Lights: Eight...2

They hit a dead end after taking the wrong turn off the road. When she turned to leave, the sentinel was already standing there. His face was impassive and his eyes bulging in rage. The girl backed away from him, using her body as a human shield for the little, frightened boy. “Please don’t hurt him,” she pleaded, tears mingled with dust smeared her pretty face. “Please let him go, he is just a little boy. Do anything to me but please don’t hurt him.” Her voice was broken with tears of supplication.

The sentinel walked to them and was now just a foot away from the girl. He lifted his arm and slapped her across in the face. She staggered sideways and fell on the ground, whimpering. The boy scampered to her side, sobbing.

“How dare you attempt an escape after all the things Mr. Shkein did for your family?” he croaked. “You’re just a filthy little girl that deserves nothing but death. I will drag you back from your hair, like the piece of rag you are, and keep you locked up and tortured until you learn your lesson Adela. As for your little protégé, I will kill him right now, in front of your eyes and have you wash in his blood,” the sentinel took a handful of Pablo’s hair and pulled the little boy to his feet. Pablo cried louder and the sentinel silenced him with a punch on his stomach.

“No please, no!” Adela cried. “Please, mercy.”

The sentinel grinned, excited at the prospect of slicing Pablo’s throat open with his scimitar. “Nobody defies Mr. Shkein and his wishes.” His grasp on the hilt was firmer, grinning malevolently. Something stopped him, a sharp pain in the back of his head. He saw Adela reaching out for Pablo and pulling him to her, and both cowered at his feet as shards of broken pieces rained on them. The handle of a jug fell on his feet. He whirled around and saw a pale girl standing behind him, with a pot in her hand.

“Leave them alone,” Aimee said, raising the pot over her head. She, more than anything, wished she had stayed with the wooden stick. At least with it would be a fair match. The best she could do was stone him to unconsciousness, however she didn’t expect that helmet of his to be so tough.

The sentinel glared at her and snickered. “Very noble of you young girl,” he seethed. “They’re slaves; they don’t deserve a white girl protecting them.” Adela raised her eyes to meet Aimee’s, they were watery and red.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let him kill any of you,” Aimee told Adela, ignoring the sentinel’s comment. Adela nodded and backed away from the sentinel.

The sentinel glowered at her and spitted on the ground before her feet. “It would be a nice training, killing you first and then the little pest.” He raised his scimitar to his waist and walked forward.

Aimee hurled the pot to his head; it hit, but didn’t stop him. He swung the scimitar sideways, Aimee dodged it and slid her feet on the ground, connecting with his ankle and unbalancing him. He reeled back, attempting to find his balance. Aimee rose to her feet and kicked him in the chest. He fell on the ground, cursing, and then got up.

 “Good moves, where did you learn those?” he sneered.

Aimee balled her fist, ready for the second assault. He came to her again with his sword over his head and thrust it forward and down. Aimee skipped back, the blade inches away from her face. He slashed sideways over and over again, and Aimee did the best she could at dodging and ducking them. Her back hit the wall behind her; she had no escape because the thick body of the sentinel was blocking possible escape routes. Her heart thumped, she had carefully elaborated a plan to escape with the two slaves unscathed, however that hadn’t gone very well and she had run out of ideas. She forced her gaze to meet that of her attacker and pressed her body closer to the wall. The sentinel’s eyes were on the shiny blade.

“It will be very beautiful to have your blood in my blade,” he tittered, swinging it to and fro. Aimee was angry at herself for not being able to protect those innocent people that needed her so, and that she’ll never see her family again.

“That will not be likely to happen.”

The sentinel jerked his head to the source of the voice, and saw a boy standing there, with a sword at hand. Aimee followed his gaze and found Christian. Her heart gave a silly jump of excitement. He smiled confidently as he approached the sentinel.

The End

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