The Sentinel's Reign

by Suzanne Rogerson

Callisa rubbed her temple and tried to clear the fog of confusion the dream had left in her brain, only she had a terrible feeling it wasn’t a dream at all; it was a vision of the future.

  She pictured the man’s face again and realised why he looked so familiar. She’d seen him before, rescuing Tei from the raging river. There was no doubt in her mind the man was Brogan, and he was going to die.

  Chapter Five

  Tei parried and then jabbed, rolling her wrist, feeling the comfortable weight of the blade as she moved. She was just beginning to get into her rhythm when a knock at the door interrupted her. Sighing, she wiped the sweat from her face on a towel and answered the door.

  ‘Callisa,’ she said stepping back in surprise before inviting the Sentinel into the room.

  Callisa took in Tei’s sweat-drenched appearance and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Sword practice,’ Tei said, as she sheathed her sword. ‘If I intend to go on missions without a protector, I need to prove to Hafender that I can take care of myself.’

  ‘So you decided against the Elders’ suggestion of marriage.’

  ‘Do I look ready to settle down?’ Tei brandished her father’s weapon and then tossed the sword belt onto the bed. ‘Thal’s right; it’s not the time to repopulate the island. If we don’t fight now, there won’t be a future here for any of us.’

  Callisa gazed around Tei’s small room, looking distracted as she caressed the golden hilt of the short sword hanging from her waist. Tei remembered Hafender presenting the weapon to her at the initiation celebration with a whispered instruction to wear it always. It was a beautifully crafted blade, perfect for the Sentinel, though Tei knew Callisa was more than capable of protecting herself without a weapon. She pictured the carnage at the house when they first met, all the dismembered bodies...

  ‘Shall we go for a walk?’ Tei asked.

  ‘Yes, that would be a welcome relief.’

  Grabbing her cloak, Tei followed Callisa outside.

  All through the settlement, people stopped to watch the Sentinel pass. She greeted everyone with smiles, exuding a commanding presence that held the exiles in awe, but also at bay. Today she seemed troubled and Tei allowed the silence to stretch, sensing no point in pushing her for answers.

  Callisa took the lead, taking the path leading to their valley meeting point.

  When out of sight of the others, Tei moved alongside Callisa and immediately the Sentinel dropped her façade.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Callisa said, looking tired and soul weary. ‘I have to appear divine to the people, but it’s an effort to uphold the illusion all the time.’

  ‘I’m not one for pretence. And I’m your Confidante, though I don’t know what that means anymore,’ she said heavily, feeling relieved to voice her concerns.

  ‘It means just this, being able to talk without restraint. It’s what I need, someone to offer advice and keep me grounded. Maybe it’s something we both need,’ Callisa said pointedly, but Tei refused to rise to the challenge.

  They continued in silence, and then sat down in the shade of the trees. The cherry tree welcomed Tei like an old friend, and she laid her hand against the gnarled bark, feeling the slow and steady pulse of life throbbing beneath her fingertips. She looked across at Callisa who had leant back against the tree and was staring up at the brilliant blue sky through the leafy canopy. She looked at peace, but worry lines etched her young face; the burden of Sentinel could never quite leave her.

  Callisa must have felt her staring and turned to face her, her blue eyes intense. ‘Why do you want to join Hafender’s team? You don’t have to. I can make sure the Elders leave you out of their plans.’

  Tei smiled ruefully. ‘I want to go. Thal made me see that hiding in the mountains isn’t the solution; it can only ever be a temporary reprieve.’

  Callisa picked at the grass, looking thoughtful. ‘Well, I hear Hilda is still searching for a suitable partner for you, so maybe you should tell her about your change of heart.’

  Tei hung her head and closed her eyes. Brogan’s face sprang into her thoughts. She could still feel his lips on hers, his body pressed against her, the gentle caress of his hands. ‘I would marry for love, but that’ll never be an option open to me.’

  ‘You accept these laws so readily. What are you so scared of, or don’t you care enough for Brogan to put up a fight?’

  Tei flinched. ‘Of course I care, but what do my feelings matter? Look what happened to my parents.’ Tei’s anger flared before despair dampened the emotion. ‘This distance between us is my way of keeping him safe.’ She hugged the cloak against her, feeling her father’s presence surround her, strengthening her conviction. ‘It can’t be any other way.’

  Callisa reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘I’m sorry Tei; it won’t be enough to save him.’

  Tei’s heart pounded in her chest and she swallowed hard. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Brogan’s life is in danger.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I had a dream of him being hanged before an army of Kalayans. Someone wants him dead, Tei.’

  Tei stood up. ‘I have to warn him.’

  Callisa nodded gravely. ‘Go to him and bring him to Turrak.’

  ***

  ‘Why haven’t you spoken to us of your plans before now? The first we hear of your intended departure is your men preparing the Saviour for travel.’ Banuth, sitting at the head of the table, looked annoyed.

  ‘We plan to sail tomorrow, but I wasn’t aware the Stone Haven Council needed to know my every move.’

  ‘Don’t be flippant, Commander. You nearly died; of course we expect to know when you are up to your duties again.’

  ‘Do I need to ask permission?’

  ‘No, but we would appreciate knowing your plans. Do you sail for Kalaya?’

  Everyone perked up at mention of the island; Farrell realised the delay hadn’t changed their desire.

  ‘I have trade agreements to re-negotiate in Wennock City before we can go to Kalaya.’

  The disappointment in the room was tangible and Farrell’s nerves twitched in response. He’d been attacked at home where he was supposed to be safe. Maybe some of these men were behind it, or they could even have been the knife wielders. It seemed unlikely, but he couldn’t be sure who to trust. It was a dangerous game and he realised he had to give them something to prove he was indispensable.

  ‘During my recovery, I had a long time to consider our future on Stone Haven. We need to rethink how we live on this island, and how we view it. It’s not dead. When I look around, I see life struggling to re-establish. The flowers and plants are slowly spreading, our sheep flourish and prosper under our management, and the colony of sea birds has been nesting on our shores for several years now...’

  ‘These are small things that don’t equate to our long-term survival on this island,’ Banuth interrupted.

  ‘But with help it can be different. I say we continue to build up our wool trade and increase our efforts at being self-sustaining. For twenty years Stone Haven has sheltered us, now it’s time to give something back to her.’

  He stopped talking, not knowing where the words had sprung from or how they were supposed to achieve any of it. He’d felt his father’s influence at work somehow. Since the attack, he’d dreamt of Fynnock every night, and now that dream was affecting his waking world too.

  ‘We need you to unite the people, Farrell, but not with all this talk of building a self-sustaining home. You’re the commander of our fleet. You’re our strength out on the seas, and our hope for the future of our race. You need to be strong and committed to finding us a home. To leading us to Kalaya.’

  Farrell acknowledged Banuth’s words, not liking them but choosing to keep his opinion to himself.

  He spied Cyris watching them with a scowl. The councillor had been relegated to the end of the table and was clearly out of favour, though no one had given a reason for his demotion.

  ‘If I agree
to sail to Kalaya and help them, I want assurances that we will still do what we can to make Stone Haven a better home. We’ll try planting trees and crops again, and work with the land so it can support us. If things don’t work out on Kalaya, or even if they do, we can still use this island as a base.’

  ‘Expand and grow our empire.’ Banuth looked enthused by the idea. The rest of council started talking through the plan, though it hadn’t been Farrell’s intention. He didn’t want to create a super race that stretched across the sea; he only wanted a bountiful land to raise his family in peace.

  He waited for the chatter to die down and then looked directly at Banuth. ‘We leave for Wennock City tomorrow. Once I’ve re-established my relationship with the governor, I’ll get word to my contact on Kalaya.’ Even as Farrell said it, he wondered how to achieve it, but it did the trick. The councillors rose from their seats and queued up to shake his hand. Farrell accepted the backslapping and well wishes for the success of his voyage, smiling away his caution. As he left the hall, he wrestled with his conscience; how could he leave Leila alone on the island with potential murderers on the loose. There had to be a way to protect her. Heading for home, he began to formulate a plan.

  ***

  Brogan sat astride his horse and looked down on the valley. ‘Well, boy, it’ll be a while before we make this journey again.’ He patted the gelding’s neck.

  The deeds signing over the farm were heavy in his pocket and he was still reluctant to follow through with what had already been set in motion. But after the hangings yesterday, he knew he couldn’t keep the farm. He had to focus every waking moment on stopping Rathnor.

  He walked the horse at a snail’s pace, wanting to prolong the journey; this was the last time he’d look upon the family farm as his. He soaked in every detail, storing up the sights and sounds to help him cope with the difficult days ahead.

  There was no sign of his friends when he eventually trotted into the yard. He tethered the gelding outside and then wandered into the kitchen. Familiar smells of cooling tisane and biscuits assailed him, evoking happy memories of his life before his father’s fateful visit.

  Beliss ran into the room, and threw herself into his arms. ‘Don’t leave us again,’ she sobbed as he picked her up and held her.

  Guilt lanced through him as he wondered how she could have guessed his intentions. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart.’ He kissed her head and squeezed her tight.

  Beliss carried on sobbing, her tears wetting his shoulder.

  Verda arrived and peeled her daughter away. ‘She’s just tired, I’ll take her to her room,’ his housekeeper said, moving towards the door.

  ‘Where’s Drago?’

  ‘In the fields.’ She threw the words over her shoulder as she hurried away.

  Brogan found himself alone and confused by the strange welcome, but he shrugged it off and strode outside to find Drago.

  His horse waylaid him. ‘Sorry, boy.’ Brogan smiled, rubbing the gelding’s nose and patting his rump. ‘Let’s get you fed.’

  He swept up the reins and led the gelding to the stables, putting him in his usual stall. The stall next door was empty, Biscuit’s absence a painful reminder of Tei.

  Sighing, he stripped the saddlebags from the gelding and gave him some grain. The horse was too agitated to appreciate grooming, so Brogan allowed him to feed while he wandered through the stalls and greeted the remaining horses. He patted each horse in turn, knowing even as he did that it was more like goodbye. Sadness well inside him. The farm had been his escape for so long, even as a boy he’d loved to visit his uncle and spent every minute helping with the animals. His father used to have to drag him back to Newington where he’d resume his boring life of an assemblyman’s son, counting the days until he could return to the farm.

  Brogan heard a horse outside and took a deep breath as he prepared to face Drago. He patted the papers in his pocket as he stepped outside.

  In the courtyard, he found a rider waiting for him. The man’s cloak was clasped at the throat by the Assembly’s island-shaped crest, and he held out an official looking scroll, stamped with the Assembly’s seal.

  Brogan looked into the rider’s eyes and realised Rathnor was tightening the trap around him.

  The rider tugged at the collar of his shirt. ‘You are summoned before the Assembly…’

  ‘On what charge?’ Brogan demanded, his deep voice unusually harsh.

  The messenger gulped. ‘You’re charged with being a spy for the exiles. If you refuse to face trial, you will be hunted down as a traitor.’

  Brogan stared at the scroll offered to him. He wanted to laugh at the impossible choice Rathnor had given him; stay and face a trial he’d lose, or run, branded a traitor without ever having the chance to prove his innocence.

  The messenger waited a moment longer and then tossed the rolled up parchment in the dust at Brogan’s feet.

  He looked down at the summons for a long time after the messenger had galloped away. The Assembly’s wax seal stared at him, taunting him. With a snarl, he snatched up the scroll and stormed back into the farmhouse. He threw it unopened on the table and slumped into a chair. It was hard to believe that only a few months ago he’d sat in the same spot and heard the news that his father was dying. ‘You should have left me out of this,’ he told the old man sitting opposite him in his memory.

  Drago arrived a few minutes later. He took in the scene, and then his eyes came to rest on the scroll still unopened on the table. His expression cracked.

  ‘Men came last week. They threatened Beliss and Verda. They made me sign a statement full of lies. They said we’d all be charged if I didn’t name you.’

  Brogan studied his friend’s face; evidence of a beating showed in the fading bruises and when he moved, he favoured his left side. ‘Not without a fight, I see.’

  ‘Beliss wanted to heal me, but I couldn’t risk them returning and finding out about her magic.’ Drago hung his head. ‘After everything you’ve done for us; I never wanted to betray you. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You had to protect your family; I would expect no less from you.’ Brogan rose and walked to Drago’s side, patting his shoulder.

  Drago flinched, and Brogan turned away, not wanting to dwell on the pain Rathnor’s men had inflicted on his friend.

  Quiet anger built inside him, but he forced it down.

  ‘Sit,’ he ordered Drago, while he retrieved the bottle of spirit and two goblets. He poured his friend a large measure and waited for him to finish before sipping at his own drink.

  ‘What now?’ Drago asked.

  Brogan thought about the deeds to the farm in his pocket and knew Drago would never accept them while his guilt was so strong.

  ‘I don’t know, but this is my mess and I don’t want you or your family involved any further.’

  ‘At least let me help you pack; you should go somewhere, start again.’

  ‘Kalaya is a small island, I couldn’t hide forever,’ Brogan said.

  ‘The mountains then.’

  Brogan sneered. ‘You think the exiles will accept an Assembly member...’

  ‘What else can you do?’

  ‘If I run, it looks like I’m guilty. Besides, that’s exactly what Rathnor wants me to do, and I refuse to let him win.’

  ‘So you’d rather die named a traitor?’

  Brogan stood and slammed his fists against the table. ‘If I run, he’ll use you and your family to get to me again. I can’t take that chance.’

  He pulled the deeds to the farm from his pocket and tossed them into Drago’s lap. ‘I never meant for any of this to happen. I was selfish thinking I could have both lives. Look after the farm for me; I know it’s in the right hands now.’

  Brogan seized the summons off the table and stormed outside.

  In the stables, he prepared the gelding for travel. Then he climbed into the saddle and walked the horse outside, unsurprised to find his friends waiting for him.

  Verda held Beliss pro
tectively against her skirts whilst crying silent tears. Drago held the deeds in his fist, looking angry and confused.

  Beliss broke away from her parents and ran in front of Brogan’s horse. ‘Don’t leave us, don’t go back.’ Tears streamed down her face.

  He turned the horse away from her, but she grabbed his leg and tried to tug him from the saddle. ‘Don’t go,’ she begged, sobbing. Her tiny fists pounded against his leg and glanced off the horse’s flank.

  Brogan couldn’t speak; he couldn’t even look at her. He took the blows and focused on trying to keep his gelding calm.

  Drago stepped forward and lifted his daughter, kicking and screaming, over his shoulder.

  Brogan took in the scene a final time. ‘Goodbye.’ The words choked from him, and then he kicked the gelding into a gallop and headed back to Newington.

  Chapter Six

  Tei led Starflower and Biscuit from the stables and headed to the pass. It had been hours since Callisa had delivered the news about Brogan and she was desperate to be on her way, but Conall had insisted he get the horseshoes changed on both mounts before she embarked in her journey. It had meant waiting on the farrier and taking another person into her confidence since she was leaving Turrak without authorisation. The furtive organisation took time, time she couldn’t afford to waste.

  ‘Tei,’ Hafender called, jogging to catch her up.

  She greeted the captain and kept leading the horses, hoping he wouldn’t question the loaded saddlebags.

  ‘Are you alright today?’ she asked tentatively. The whole of Turrak had gathered yesterday and mourned the loss of their men. Hafender had spoken of each man’s courage in the eulogy, and no one had escaped without shedding a few tears.

  He nodded, and then raised his eyebrows at the horses. ‘I hope you’re not running out on us.’

  She saw genuine concern on his face. ‘I have a friend in trouble.’

  ‘Need some company? I have no love of being held under house arrest in the mountains.’

  ‘No, I have to go now, and I need to go alone. This isn’t a mission, it’s personal.’