Page 3 of The Missing Sentinel
A deep and abiding friendship had formed between necromancer and sentinel. For many years, Drexley had reveled in his enriched existence. Then Adney had started making suggestions. He’d questioned why Drexley kept his hair in disarray. With a shrug, Drexley had told him it was easier to ignore it.
So, Adney had ordered Drexley to sit as the necromancer trimmed it. The second demand had followed once Adney was finished—Drexley was to keep it combed and tidy. Drexley had been so uncomfortable being touched that he’d barely registered his annoyance at the commands. But his frustration had grown as he had to fix his stupid hair several times a day to accommodate his training schedule.
Mentioning that had been the worst mistake of Drexley’s life. Adney had issued a directive that altered everything. Drexley could no longer train. Gone was the one thing that brought Drexley unparalleled joy and cleared his mind. But as Adney had pointed out later, it left him more hours of the day to read.
Drexley was enormously fond of books, but he had not minded carving out time for his training. Unfortunately, Adney did not ask his opinion. The one benefit Drexley found was that he did not have to change out of the fussy wardrobe Adney had insisted he wear constantly.
Drexley’s uniform had disappeared shortly afterward.
Next came the suggestion that Drexley grow a beard. Adney had one and thought it was the height of sophistication. Unsure of his own thoughts about facial hair, Drexley had hesitated in the conversation, and it had become an order. Now Drexley had a neat goatee and mustache. It was impossible forDrexley to grow a full beard, and Adney complained about it regularly.
The clothes and the way Drexley looked were minor things. But what vexed Drexley was the way his choices were made for him. Pointing that out to Adney had complicated the situation further. Drexley’s necromancer had insisted that sentinels were created to serve and it was Drexley’s duty to want the same things as Adney.
Was that true? Were the sentinels innately inferior to magickind like necromancers? The only other sentinel Drexley knew was back at the compound. And Drexley was forbidden to return. Adney insisted that the sentinels had no leader despite Drexley calmly explaining Alaric’s existence.
To Adney, Alaric was nothing but a disgraced sentinel betraying the necromancers by putting himself in a position of authority. Drexley’s explanation that Alaric would never do such a thing had resulted in the order to end the discussion immediately.
It was perplexing and fundamentally confusing to have a dear friend who could decide things for Drexley without paying attention to his input. But Drexley had to trust that Adney knew far more about the world than him. Drexley had spent his life prior to meeting Adney in a cage, giving the necromancer the advantage of experience.
He tugged on his clothes after washing and acknowledged that the issue ultimately was his own. Adney deserved his trust. The necromancer was over two thousand years old and had experienced much. He could even recall the world before sentinels were created. So, who was Drexley to think he knew better than Adney about anything?
What was wrong with Drexley? He continued to have complicated feelings about losing his choices despite someonewith vastly more knowledge than him helping him out by deciding for him.
Feeling horrible for questioning Adney, Drexley grabbed the lone thing that set him apart from necromancers, and with the whisper of a magical word his glowing daggers hovered near his waist. They were ornaments now, and Drexley missed the feel of them in his palms as he trained, but whatever threat had taken Adney’s son had no clue where to find them in the necromancer’s secret realm.
Danger was nowhere, which was a relief.
Drexley left his bedchamber behind and with swift, sure steps found Adney waiting for him in the dining hall.
“Good morning, Drexley, did you sleep well?” Adney asked with a bright smile. The necromancer was always pleased to see Drexley, and it reminded the sentinel that their friendship was important to them both.
“I did,” Drexley replied. As a sentinel, it was impossible to lie, but Drexley had slept soundly. It was when he woke that his thoughts remained trapped in a vicious cycle, leaving him confused and riddled with guilt for resenting Adney’s orders. Adney had offered him everything, and Drexley should’ve been nothing but grateful. “How did you sleep?”
“Exceedingly well. I woke full of wondrous ideas. I recalled an old tome of stories I stumbled upon as a young man, full of dragons and other enchanted creatures. Of course, it was written long before we knew such things to be real, but I thought you might find it enjoyable. You have such a love of fantasy.”
Drexley’s grin was genuine as a skeleton set a plate full of food in front of him. Squelching the persistent need to thank the skeleton—as Adney had told him it was unnecessary to show the creatures any gratitude—Drexley plucked his fork from the table. “I will hunt for it after our meal; it sounds a lovely tome.”
“I have an idea of where to find it. Near the bottom of the shelves, I should think, since it would have been near the start of my collection. I created this realm as a young man and would often come here to think. A good choice given the danger that eventually found my son. But no one can find us here.”
“Yes, I was thinking something similar as I headed here this morning. It relieves me to think of the last century of peace.”
“Which is why I think we are ready to discuss my second idea.”
Drexley swallowed a delicious bite of sausage and smiled. “It will be hard to top a fantasy book, but I am eager to hear what else you have planned for our day.”
“I was thinking about weapons.”
“What need do we have of them? As you mentioned, we are safe here.”
“Yet you carry a pair of daggers with you from morning until nightfall.”
Alarm filled Drexley, and he glanced at Adney. The necromancer’s gray gaze was filled with determination. “Yes, but I am a sentinel, and every sentinel carries his weapons with him.”
“How many sentinels have you met?”
“One,” Drexley answered, though Adney already knew everything about Drexley’s unremarkable past.
“And we already know him to be a man who does not instill trust. How can a sentinel lack a necromancer? We created you. It is our duty to guide you and your behavior. Rumors abound about a sentinel who murdered their own necromancer. How do you know it was not this Alaric?”
