Jence entered the arsenal and examined the swords and the battered and piecemeal armor housed within. Most of the swords were kept sharp enough to be effective, but they lacked the enhanced capabilities of powered weapons. The gleaming implements hung on the wall from simple hooks upturned under the crosspieces. Armor was also in its most basic form. Pieces of scrap leather fitted with plates of metal to increase its defensive capacity were stacked on shelves and piled atop metal crates.

Everything inside the arsenal had been scavenged during the upheaval after the war. Governments had either been shattered beyond repair or had condensed down in an attempt to guard their key people and as much territory as they could effectively hold, leaving vast areas lawless and unprotected.

Jence, after being freed from the robot city, had led many missions through the surrounding tunnels to the surface, gathering whatever supplies and materials could be used to sustain the stronghold of the warriors. Supplies got fewer and harder to find with every operation, and it was clear to him, they would eventually run out. Scavenging could only sustain them for so long before actual production capabilities were required.

He'd brought his concerns to the Elders before, and they'd cautioned him about making such information common knowledge. They were aware of the problem and were working to confront it, but they didn't want him to create doubt in the minds of his fellow warriors as to their chances of success.

Jence knew doubt was a nasty form of fear, and it could creep up on even the strongest warriors, slipping soundlessly through their minds while leaving footprints of unease in its wake. Doubt could undermine strongholds and compromise the best laid defense strategies with distraction and hesitation. The survival of his people required them to be unified and resolute, no matter the situation. There was no room for doubt.

Selecting a sword and some armor, he strapped them about his person and departed the arsenal. He had guard duty this morning.

Walking with a brisk pace, Jence crossed the courtyard and waited with the other five members of the patrol while the gates were opened.

Strips of cloth had been wrapped tightly around horizontal pipes sticking outward from a vertical post made from welded together oil drums. Warriors positioned at each pipe pushed hard while walking in a slow circle.

Atop the post were more horizontal pipes fanned outward like the rays of a metal sun. As the post turned, the upper pipes caught on the vertical spokes of a cylinder positioned sideways above the front gate. The mechanism rotated the cylinder as the warriors continued walking their circle, coiling the chains around the long tube and raising the connected metal bars of the gate out of the way.

Jence and his fellow guards exited the stronghold, taking up positions outside the wall until the gate was slowly lowered back down and secured.

Moving with both speed and silence, the five warriors split up and headed in different directions to relieve the guards already on watch. The warriors of the stronghold never called in those on patrol when it was time to change shifts because it would leave the perimeter undefended while the new warriors got into position. Instead, the second shift would reinforce those already on watch, doubling the strength of the guard momentarily and leaving no weak point to be exploited.

The concealed position Jence would be stationed in was located inside a tarnished copper pipe. Victim of a rupture years ago, the upper half of the upright conduit was missing, the edges pushed outward in jagged fingers. Before he reached the location, Jence knelt down beside a tightly stretched string running along the base of the wall and leading to the guard's position. He tapped the string in a precise order with the right number of vibrations and pauses between them. Only when the silent recognition code had been delivered did Jence stand up and continue to the observation post.

Knowing a friend was approaching, the warrior stepped out of his hidden position and nodded a greeting to Jence in passing. The heavily muscled warrior was haggard, his face drawn, his dark blond hair slick with sweat. Jence understood the rigors of guard duty and the toll it demanded of the warriors.

Jence drew his sword before slipping inside the ruptured pipe. As the footsteps of the relieved guard faded from Jence's hearing, silence closed in. It was a nerve shredding silence, the kind responsible for raising the hairs on the back of his neck and whispering paranoia in his ear. He knew well the threats waiting beyond the territory controlled by the warriors, and in the silence, his mind considered the possibility of someone or something lurking out there in the darkness beyond his field of vision, waiting for a momentary lapse in his vigilance in order to strike.

Hours passed, and Jence was about to think his watch would be uneventful when he heard a single footstep. Whoever had been responsible was very good at stealth, but Jence's hearing was better. Holding perfectly still and keeping his breathing hushed, Jence strained his ears, waiting until he heard another footstep. The person approaching him wasn't one of the warriors because they would've come through the access tunnel in the other direction. He knew this could only be someone from the surface, and the warriors had no friends there, only enemies.

The sound of another footstep reached him, but Jence detected something else. He listened closely and heard it again. A slight echo occurred when the footstep sounded again, and Jence realized the cause. It wasn't one person closing in on his position but two. They were moving in unison in an attempt to disguise their numbers.

Fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword, Jence waited for the enemy to enter range.

Two men crept slowly around the corner. They carried low intensity lights, just bright enough to reveal their surroundings with a soft glow but not enough to give away their position from a distance. The men's apparel was ragged, patched a dozen times over. Dirt, grime, and old scars covered the men as if they'd been on the run for a year after being attacked by wild animals. The hair on their heads was cropped in a disorganized fashion similar to the end result if cut by hand with a dull knife, and patches of longer hair resided next to some shaved down to the scalp. Knives were held ready in both hands of the two men, and Jence didn't need to be told the dark stains on the metal was blood.

When the two intruders moved past him, Jence launched his attack. His first sword swing took down one of the two men, but the second swing missed as the invader rolled across the floor and out of range. Rather than stand and fight, the second man bolted down the tunnel toward the exit.

Jence gave chase, leaning down to scoop up one of the knives from his deceased opponent in passing. He swung his sword and cut a line near his observation post. Tied to a rock, the cut line would drop the stone down a shaft to the stronghold where the warriors would be alerted to the intruders, giving them time to fortify defenses before encountering the threat directly.

Although his opponent was moving at full speed, Jence was more familiar with the tunnel system, and he took different passages in order to close the distance with the fleeing scout. Jence skidded around a turn and entered a long corridor only twenty feet behind his enemy. Throwing the knife he'd retrieved, Jence put an end to the scout.

In the silence immediately after, Jence heard running footsteps and the slamming of a metal hatch further away. Dread coiled in his stomach, making him queasy. Despite stopping the scouts, word of the warriors' location had still managed to get out. Jence started sprinting back toward the stronghold. He had to get back fast.

The warriors had survived for years in secret, but that was now at an end. The enemy would be coming for them, and they would be coming in force.