The Sentinel's Reign

by Suzanne Rogerson

  Brogan watched the dark sky begin to lighten and sensed a subtle change in the army below; he had a feeling Rathnor would give the command today.

  As the sun rose on the third day, its light threw the scene into view and his heart sank. The army were getting into formation, preparing to charge the pass.

  Brogan looked over at the watch commander; Captain Jaym had already spotted the enemy’s plan and was communicating telepathically with the other captains below.

  Brogan looked back at Rathnor’s camp and gulped back fear as he watched his own people begin the march on Turrak.

  ***

  The settlement looked deserted from Tei’s vantage point at the top of the cave entrance. After the army struck that morning, launching their first attack with the sunrise, the focal point of the exiles’ world had become the pass. As the Confidante, Hafender had ordered her to stay away from the action so she wandered down into the valley, not knowing what else to do with herself.

  She spotted the first trickle of injured defenders beginning to arrive and hurried over to look for Brogan among them. Her moment of relief was brief as the stretcher-bearers passed her. The wounded men needed skilled healers and surgeons, but she followed at their heels anyway, hoping to help in some small way.

  She halted inside the temporary infirmary set up in the valley, struck by the smell of blood already infusing the air. Dozens of unoccupied beds lined the walls waiting to be filled.

  A passing nurse glanced up as Tei hovered in the doorway. ‘We don’t need any help just yet. Why don’t you come back later?’

  Tei was glad to escape the stench and depression of the infirmary. She headed to the mess hall, but again her services were not required.

  Tei paced, kicking up dust, her feet eventually directing her to her favourite secluded spot. She found her cherry tree and sat resting against its base, trying not to notice its leaves falling prematurely or the lack of her favourite wild flowers. Tei closed her eyes, allowing her spirit to drift. She travelled across the settlement towards the pass, trepidation filling her as the first of the exile defenders came into view.

  The archers stayed well protected in the rocks, picking off the attackers as they charged Turrak. Most of the attackers fell back with minor injuries; but there were still fatalities, deaths they so desperately needed to avoid.

  She could see swordsmen, hidden behind well-positioned boulders in the pass, waiting to stop any attackers who managed to breech the volleys of arrows raining down on top of them. While she watched, no one made it that far.

  The exiles were grim-faced defenders going through the motions of war, while the attackers, enraged by the lack of battle, pushed forward recklessly.

  She glimpsed Brogan crouched high up on the pass wall, armed with bow and arrow. He was far enough back from the entrance to the mountains that it was unlikely he would need his weapon. If they were lucky he wouldn’t need it at all.

  Curiosity pushed Tei to the edge of the pass to look upon the vast enemy camp spreading out beyond Turrak’s shadow. She hovered above it, watching their preparations, wishing she could do something to make the people see the truth.

  She spotted Rathnor and shuddered with hatred. Evil leaked from him as he strutted around the encampment and revelled in his farcical war. If only those mystics had managed to kill him, Tei thought.

  Rathnor looked up to where her spirit hovered and a slow grin spread across his face. Their eyes met across dimensions and he reached towards her.

  Reeling in shock, Tei escaped back to her body. She sat up, panting and drenched with the sweat of fear.

  ***

  Rathnor smiled to himself as he moved towards his private tent. The girl’s terror had put him in good humour, even if he’d stumbled on her presence by chance. He was glad Nadan and his men had not managed in their many attempts to kill Tei; he suspected she’d provide more entertainment before the war was through.

  ‘Rathnor, sir?’

  He stopped and turned at the sound of his name, staring at the messenger until the boy cowered. ‘Speak, boy.’

  ‘The Assembly are awaiting your presence at the meeting.’ The boy’s face glowed red, and he flinched as if expecting a slap.

  Rathnor relaxed; hitting cowards held little pleasure, not compared to the heady rush of breaking a brave man’s spirit.

  ‘Ah yes, the meeting.’ Rathnor pictured the old fools holed up in their pavilion, petrified of being so close to the fighting.

  He turned back to the messenger. ‘Tell them I shall be with them shortly... run along then, boy.’

  Rathnor turned on his heels and marched to his tent. Ducking inside, he was glad to shut out the rest of the world. He dismissed his bodyguard, settled into his chair and sipped the brew already waiting for him. Then he reached out to test the island magic. It felt weak, strained to breaking; it wouldn’t last more than a few days. Satisfied, Rathnor checked how the rest of his plans were progressing.

  Farrell.

  The sea commander must have been waiting for him. How does the battle fare? What’s going on inside the barrier?

  Rathnor could smell the stench of uncertainty on his ally. Our people fight, but we’re dying. Without your aid, I fear they’ll slaughter us all. The risks we’ve taken, the lives we’re losing, all will be for nothing.

  Farrell remained silent, but Rathnor felt the noose tightening on his prey.

  We need you. To know you’re there waiting gives us the courage to fight on. Rathnor pursed his lips tight, resisting the urge to lay the deceit too thick. Farrell wasn’t a gullible man, but he had a big heart and conscience to match.

  Tell your people we’ll be ready when the barrier falls.

  Rathnor grinned to himself. Thank you.

  He broke the connection. Another piece was set in place; the years of planning were finally about to reach fruition. The revenge he had craved since childhood was almost his; it was a shame Gohan wasn’t there to regret his selfish deeds. But the girl was a fine replacement; to break her puny body and suck away her spirit would be a fitting reward.

  While he was still in good spirits, he called on another of his victims.

  Nadan.

  The captain tensed as he always did. Rathnor felt the rippling hatred travel through Nadan and quelled it deep inside the captain before it had a chance to take hold.

  Keep your men close by.

  Nadan struggled to form his reply. They are restless; they want to join in the fighting.

  Caution them with patience, Nadan. They’ll have their time of glory, but right now, it’s important you aren’t seen.

  Rathnor took a moment to tighten the spell on Nadan, tweaking his hold to ensure it would not slip, burying the man’s hatred deeper still. Then he smiled, pleased by the success of his creation. You are a good captain, Nadan. I know the men will follow your command.

  As you wish, master.

  Rathnor broke the connection and finished his brew, still smiling though tiredness lurked ready to claim him. He pushed aside his body’s need and thought about Nadan. He really was a good captain, even if his heart wasn’t as evil as Rathnor wanted it to be. He’d almost lost control of Nadan a few times over the last year, as the captain fought again his imprisonment. Rathnor knew he’d have to keep a close eye on him in the days to come to ensure the spell didn’t slip again.

  Rathnor rose from his chair and stretched out his back, his fingertips brushing against the fabric roof of his tent.

  He remembered the Assembly waiting for him in the large pavilion. ‘And now to attend to the biggest puppets of them all.’ He laughed as he smoothed down his cloak and headed back outside.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Warm blood pumped through Tei’s fingers. She tried desperately to staunch the flow from the arrow wound in the man’s chest, but she knew her efforts were in vain.

  The enemy soldier met her eye. ‘It will be alright,’ she said.

  He grabbed her hand, though there was barely any s
trength left in him. ‘Thank you.’ He choked on a mouthful of blood and then went still.

  Tei sat back on her haunches, tears stinging her eyes. The walls of the mountains pressed down on her, suffocating her, while whimpers of pain echoed through the pass.

  She looked down at the dead man and knew Rike and Garrick would be waiting to guide his spirit, but it didn’t counter the fact he’d died so needlessly. She covered his face with a large square of linen usually reserved for bandages. Then she cleaned her hands in a bowl of water that was already pink with blood.

  ‘This is what I demanded to be a part of,’ Tei thought to herself, scrubbing at the bloodstains on her skin with a harsh cloth. ‘I should have stayed away.’ She wiped at her tears with her sleeve, glad that everyone else was too busy to pay her any attention.

  Once she’d contained her emotions, Tei glanced up and down the pass. Everywhere, people were treating the wounded, and then there were the dead, waiting to be honoured in Turrak, or returned to their comrades outside the pass when there was a lull in the fighting. Despite their best efforts, there were many casualties. She thought of Callisa, locked in her mountain prison, fighting a losing battle to preserve the island barrier and keep the magic of the island whole.

  Tei took a deep breath of air polluted by the stench of blood and looked to see if there was anyone else in need of help. She glimpsed Mara helping a mystic with a shallow cut on his forehead, and strode over to confront her friend.

  Mara offered a hesitant smile as Tei drew level with her.

  Tei caught a glimpse of the small swell of Mara’s belly, a stark reminder of the approaching new life amid so much death. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Just doing my bit, the same as you.’ Mara finished winding a strip of linen around the wounded man’s head and pinned it in place.

  The patched up mystic made a swift exit as though glad to escape back to the battle-lines.

  ‘Wasn’t last time enough for you?’

  Mara’s hands moved to her neck and then she quickly pulled them away and smoothed down her dress. ‘My skills are needed here.’

  Tei bit her lip to halt an angry reply, before she took a deep breath. ‘Just go back to the valley before you get hurt,’ she said and turned away.

  Mara caught her arm and spun her around. ‘Why should I hide away while others risk themselves to protect us? I’m not a delicate flower, I’m pregnant.’

  Tei shook her arm free of Mara’s grip. ‘You’re pregnant with the next generation of mystic, a baby that could be our people’s last hope of surviving this war.’ Tei reached out and touched the bump, a shiver travelling through her. ‘You’re pregnant with Rike’s child.’

  Mara crumpled against her, and she held her friend as the sobs wracked through her.

  ‘You can't go to him. You have to be strong, to carry on his line and ensure his name is not forgotten.’

  ‘It’s so hard being the one left behind.’ Mara sniffed, resting her hands on the growing child within her. ‘What do I say when she asks about her father?’

  ‘Say the truth, that he was a hero.’

  Mara hugged her tight. ‘Thank you.’

  They moved apart. ‘Go back to the valley Mara,’ Tei said softly, and felt relief wash over her as her friend nodded.

  As they prepared to go their separate ways, they saw two stretcher-bearers hurrying through the pass, shouting at people to clear the way. The enemy soldier they carried had an arrow sticking down through his eye socket and protruding out of his cheek. Despite the grotesque injury, he seemed to be alive. Both Tei and Mara rushed forward. ‘Anything we can do?’ Tei asked.

  ‘No, this one needs the surgeon, nothing we can do for him here.’

  Tei stepped aside so they could pass but then the wounded man started convulsing.

  He sat up suddenly, unbalancing the stretcher so the men holding it had to fight not to drop him.

  The wounded soldier screamed as he jumped clear of the stretcher and drew a dagger from his tunic. He lunged at a stretcher-bearer, the blade slicing into his arm before he could duck clear.

  The injured man lunged again and slashed at the air. ‘You won't take me. I’ll kill you all before you get me.’

  Tei pushed Mara behind her. The second stretcher-bearer shielded his injured colleague, holding up his empty hands in an act of submission. ‘No one wants to hurt you.’

  The man with the arrow sticking out of his face took a swipe at him, but the wild slash missed because blood from the wound had blinded his remaining eye.

  Tei glanced up and saw an archer moving into position above them, sighting his arrow, waiting for the right moment to shoot.

  ‘Mateu, you need to calm down,’ a voice called out from the line of injured enemy soldiers who were guarded at sword point until a break in battle allowed them to return to their comrades outside Turrak.

  The wounded man spun on his heel, seeking the speaker through the blood pouring down his face.

  A soldier struggled to his feet, hindered by injury. The cloth of his breeches had been ripped away to reveal his scraped and bruised leg; a cut had been bandaged but was still bleeding through. He did his best to hobble closer to the man he’d called Mateu and, as he stepped fully into view, Tei gasped as she saw a face from her past.

  ‘Assis,’ the wounded soldier exclaimed.

  ‘Mateu, lower your weapon,’ Assis said with quiet authority. He’d spied the archer above and put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘These people aren’t trying to hurt you, they want to help you.’

  Tei watched Assis slowly approach his comrade.

  Mateu faltered, but his knife didn’t lower. ‘Assis, get behind me. I’ll get you out of here.’ Mateu stumbled, his face reflecting the agony he was suffering, but the blade remained levelled outward at friend or foe.

  ‘Mateu, listen to me. You’re not in any danger from these people, but you have to lower your weapon.’

  Tei could barely breathe, the tension palpable. She slid her hand over her sword hilt.

  No one moved and time seemed to slow down. She felt the bowman’s taut string, the readiness of the armed exiles, and Assis in the middle of it all.

  Mateu sagged suddenly. His knife clattered to the ground and he collapsed, but Assis caught him as he fell, almost caving under the weight of the unconscious man.

  The stretcher-bearers rushed forward to take Mateu, though this time they secured him to the stretcher with ropes and checked he had no other concealed weapons.

  Assis watched them go, a look of uncertainty mingled with his relief.

  Tei approached him, still shocked to find her childhood friend so far from home and in the midst of battle. He’d always been a peaceful man, more skilled with a chisel than a blade. ‘Hello, Assis.’

  He turned towards her and his eyes widened. ‘Tei?’

  She beamed at him. ‘Yes, it’s me. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Wow, look at you.’ He took in her appearance - no longer the tailor’s daughter, but a mystic warrior with her father’s sword strapped at her side and her green cloak billowing out behind her.

  ‘Saska was so worried when you disappeared. We both were.’

  ‘I didn’t want to leave Seatown, but I would have endangered her if I’d stayed.’ As Tei said it, the truth came into focus and for the first time she was glad she’d left home with her father when they did.

  She looked up the pass to the retreating figures of the stretcher-bearers. ‘That was brave of you; you saved his life.’

  ‘Mateu is a good man.’ Assis met her eye. ‘I don’t want to lose any more friends to this war.’

  Tei nodded and they stood staring at each other in silence. The question of how they could be on opposing sides hung between them. She opened her mouth to try to explain, and then shut it, knowing she could never make him see the truth with a few words.

  Assis looked tired and pale, while blood and dirt streaked his leg; he looked lucky to be standing at
all.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘My leg was crushed by falling rocks. The man I was fighting pulled me free and bandaged it,’ he said, still looking shocked by the turn of events.

  Tei studied her old friend and made a decision. ‘Come with us to the mountains; you need to get those wounds seen to, and your friend will be glad to see a familiar face when he wakes up.’

  Mara raised her eyebrows; they both knew Tei had no authority to invite the enemy into their sanctuary. They only took the worst of the wounded into Turrak.

  He paused, protest on his lips, but then he glanced down the pass to where the clash and clamour of fighting reverberated back to them.

  Mara glanced at Tei again, but raised no argument as they made the journey in silence. They walked slowly to accommodate Assis as he limped along on his wounded leg.

  As they reached the entrance to the valley, the guards took one look at the ragged appearance of their charge and waved them through.

  Assis made it several steps beyond the guards, before he stopped dead. The full breadth of the Turrak valley spread out beneath them. Tei moved to offer a hand, but then she realised it wasn’t the injuries that had made him pause.

  ‘I never realised…’

  ‘There is no evil here,’ Tei said, knowing she was putting voice to his thoughts.

  ‘Then what are we doing? Why are we at war?’

  Tei gripped his hand, glad when he didn’t pull away from her. Instead, Assis met her gaze unguardedly and she attempted a reassuring smile. ‘Things aren’t as dire as they first appear. We’re trying our best to minimise the causalities, but as with your friend, accidents happen.’

  Assis watched her lips, but she wasn’t sure he was taking in her words. She gave his hand a squeeze. ‘Let’s get those wounds treated before you bleed to death. When you’re stronger, we’ll talk again. Don’t give up hope, cling to it.’