Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  Jennery saluted. “Sir, in case you are not aware, the ball is proceeding. The king wouldn’t hear of it being cancelled. He wants to make sure we wipe this threat out once and for all. He is fed up of his palace being a battleground.”

  Nikols grimaced and shook his head. “I pity Haven that job.”

  Night descended as Jennery returned to the palace. He passed many carriages beginning the ascent up the torchlit rise. The king’s ball would be well attended. It would be interesting to see who stayed away, he thought. He beat the carriages to the front entrance and trotted round to the stables. Strolling into the office of the King’s Justice, he found Jerrol behind the desk. He wore a gold strip of cloth around his arm that flashed in the lamplight. Jerrol looked up as Jennery approached his desk. “Report,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Nikols has the warehouses under control. He has also set up a roving patrol up to the palace grounds, both out of sight. He said Fenton had been after more men from him. You’ll be glad to hear Nikols refused. Apparently, Fenton was on his way back here, but I didn’t pass him on the road.” Jennery reported, adding with a grin, “What’s with the fancy armband?”

  Jerrol shrugged and threw a strip of white cloth at him. “It’s so we can tell who’s who, seeing as we can’t trust any of Fenton’s men. Landis suggested it. We ran out of gold cloth, so you get white.”

  Jennery raised his eyebrows as he tied the cloth around his sleeve. “The guests are beginning to arrive. I passed them on the way up.”

  “Very well, then, let’s get into place. Fonorion and Parsillion have King Benedict and Prince Anders. Darllion is guarding Prince Kharel. Landis has the perimeter. Bryce, the interior. You have the guests. You can practice your charm. Birlerion is with me. So, I guess we’d better go join them.”

  They left the office, collecting a heavily armed Birlerion from outside the door and headed into the Palace. Jennery considered Birlerion. “Um, maybe Birlerion ought to be up in the galleries? He might frighten the guests.”

  “They won’t see him,” promised Jerrol as he led the way to the ballroom. He waved Jennery on as he paused to speak to Darris. “All set?”

  “Yes, sir. Guests are being checked on entry. Those not prepared to swear the oath are escorted to a side room. Those who do receive an armband. Our guests below stairs are being guarded by one of the footmen; a big lad, sir.”

  “Good,” Jerrol said as he entered the ballroom, scanning the room, which was ablaze with light and crystal. White cloth-covered tables lined the walls and elegantly dressed guests were beginning to circulate, accepting glasses of sparkling wine from waiters bedecked in gold and white. Prince Anders stood by the door, welcoming the guests.

  The glass doors, which usually opened out onto the terrace, were shut. The heavy brocade curtains were drawn, providing a vibrant backdrop for the gold chains that crisscrossed them and glittered in the candlelight. A raised dais was swathed in red and gold at the end of the room, currently hosting a quartet who were playing softly in the background. Four trumpeters stood in the gallery above, awaiting the king’s arrival. All present were wearing an armband.

  Jerrol left Jennery circulating, anticipating the arrival of Alyssa and her mother. He spotted the discreetly positioned Birlerion up above before he left the room and walked towards the king’s chambers. Jerrol nodded as he passed arriving guests, murmuring words of encouragement as he acknowledged the salutes from guards unobtrusively watching all exits.

  He arrived at the king’s chambers as a clock in the hallway began to chime seven. He tapped on the door and eased through the gap as it opened. The king stood waiting by the fireplace, resplendent in his navy-blue uniform. He wore a red sash diagonally across his chest, and he sparkled with jewels.

  “All is in place, sire,” Jerrol reported, blinded by the spectacle before him. “Are we making a statement tonight?”

  The king nodded. “Absolutely.”

  21

  Ballroom, King’s Palace

  The ballroom was abuzz with voices as Jerrol preceded King Benedict through the doors. He nodded at Darris, who signalled the trumpeters, who heralded the king’s entrance with a loud fanfare. The voices died down as the guests turned towards the king. A ripple of bows and curtseys preceded the king as he made his way down the ballroom. He turned before the dais and raised his hands, his jewels catching the light.

  “Lords and ladies, welcome to my home,” he said with a smile. “This is our first celebration of Vespiri since our recent troubles. You may have noticed the catechism you received at the entrance. We are expecting a few minor difficulties this evening, and I would request that you stay within the ballroom for your safety and enjoyment.

  “Captain Haven and his guards will ensure our safety.” A ripple of apprehension interrupted him. “You do not need to be concerned. I will speak further with you later. Please enjoy.” The king moved away from the centre of the room and paused beside Jerrol. “You will be protecting us, won’t you?” he asked with a sharp smile.

  Jerrol grimaced and escorted him towards his waiting guests. Handing the king to Fonorion, he stood in the shadows, still and silent, watching the room. The ballroom slowly filled with more distinguished guests, bright and colourful.

  Jerrol watched Jennery escort Alyssa, draped in a beautiful gown of forest green, to a table, and he wondered where Lady Miranda was. Scholar Dean Liliian and her assistant entered the ballroom, and he eagerly watched the doorway. Torsion entered, escorting Taelia, resplendent in a deep rose-pink gown that hugged her body. Her cloudy brown hair was artfully piled on her head, and his heart stuttered as he gazed at her. He drank in the sight of her, longing to hold her in his arms just for a moment. She turned her head towards him and gave him a beautiful smile that made him catch his breath before she tipped her face back to listen to Torsion.

  Lady Miranda entered the ball room and taking a deep breath, he moved towards Prince Anders, still adeptly receiving guests on behalf of his father. “Enjoying the practice, your highness?” Jerrol murmured as he paused beside him.

  The prince flicked him a glance. “No more than you, Captain Haven. Though if you have need of practice, I am always available to meet in the ring. I did offer, you have yet to name the time and place.”

  Jerrol smiled. “I am, of course, available for your entertainment, your highness, though maybe not when we’re in the middle of an attempted coup.”

  Prince Anders choked and cursed Jerrol under his breath. “Go annoy someone else, why don’t you?” he muttered before turning to smile at the next guest.

  “Your face will get stuck like that,” Jerrol promised as he moved forward to take Lady Miranda’s arm as she entered the room.

  Anders made a very unroyal face at Jerrol before turning back to the arriving guests. Lady Miranda cast a suspicious glance at Jerrol. “What did you say to him?”

  Jerrol laughed. “Got to keep them on their toes, you know,” he said as he saluted the prince and moved her further into the room. “I just wanted to say that we received word. Tagerill has regained consciousness and is progressing well. Not happy, but progressing.”

  “Oh, Captain Jerrol.” She stopped walking, taking a deep breath, as her eyes filled.

  Jerrol glanced around the room and spun her on the dance floor, giving her time to recover. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Oh, I do. Captain Jerrol, thank you so much. I’m so relieved. I thought…” She faltered.

  Jerrol tightened his grip. “Well, don’t. He will be fine.” He glanced up into the galleries and nodded at Birlerion as he caught the silent message. He spun Lady Miranda towards the table where Jennery hosted Alyssa and Lady Olivia.

  “Thank you for the dance,” he said, squeezing her fingers. He nodded at Jennery, and with a quick bow, he swiftly moved away and out of the room.

  Lady Miranda stood, mouth agape, as she hovered by the table, and Jennery stepped manfully into the gap. “Lady Miranda, you
ought to know that he doesn’t know how to stand still. He’s always leaving beautiful ladies deserted on the dance floor.”

  Relaxing, Lady Miranda laughed. “I’m sorry. Thank you. He just told me that Sentinal Tagerill is making a good recovery; isn’t that a relief?”

  “Oh? That is good news,” Alyssa said, shyly watching her mother.

  The awkward pause lengthened, and Lady Olivia said, “Miranda, it has been too long since we last spoke. You look ravishing, my dear.”

  Lady Miranda smiled in return. “Olivia, may I say how sorry I was to hear about Stefan. I regret I was unable to visit you before.”

  “Thank you, my dear. Let’s sit, shall we? We have much to catch up on.” Lady Olivia indicated the table.

  Jennery slid an arm around Alyssa’s waist. “Dance?” he whispered and twirled her onto the floor as she nodded. His arms tightened as she relaxed into his embrace.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “I was surprised. I don’t know why; I knew she would be here, but I didn’t know what to say.”

  “It’s understandable. Yesterday was the first time you’ve seen her in how long? Ten years? But I wouldn’t worry too much. We should insist she comes with us to Deepwater; give you time to get to know each other again,” Jennery murmured into her hair.

  “Good idea. Who is that dancing with Jerrol? I thought he left. Oh, he is deserting her as well.”

  “That, my dear, is Scholar Taelia, an old friend of ours. You forget he is on duty, not like me, who gets to enjoy the ball with my beloved,” Jennery grinned.

  Alyssa laughed up into his face. “Well, I am sorry for him; he’s obviously a good dancer. It’s not fair on us ladies.”

  Jennery made a face. “What? You mean I’m not good enough for you?” he asked as his gaze flickered around the ballroom, noting the number of guards out of uniform. He glanced up at the gallery. Birlerion was no longer in sight.

  Alyssa stared up at him. “Is something wrong?”

  “With you in my arms? Never,” Jennery declared as he twirled her back towards the table. “I just need to check on something,” he murmured, kissing her hand and settling her in the chair opposite Miranda and Olivia, who were deep in conversation.

  Jennery made his way down the room towards Parsillion, who stood beside Prince Anders. “What’s up?” he murmured as they observed Fonorion shadowing the king.

  “It’s started. There is an altercation down near the warehouses. The Captain went to check the perimeter. First contact is imminent.”

  “It looks like most of the guests turned up. I can’t see anyone of note missing,” Jennery said.

  Parsillion nodded. “The king said the same. I think there was only one or two people who refused to say the oath. The king seemed pleased.”

  “I think he takes it as a sign of support.” Jennery grinned as he began to move away, pausing as a distant rumble penetrated the room. Parsillion froze before moving to flank Fonorion, murmuring in his ear. Fonorion nodded before speaking to the king.

  King Benedict nodded in turn and stepped up onto the dais. “Lords, ladies, and distinguished guests,” he began. “If I may have your attention, please. As you know, the Watches are of great historical importance to Vespiri. We often forget their beginnings, created as the Lady extended her protection over our great country. What you may not have been aware of is that the Watches were created at a time of instability to segment our country into areas that needed to be defended.” He paused. “Defended against those who sought to subsume us under their power, who sought to take away our free will, who sought to ...” The king’s voice continued as Jennery reached the double doors at the head of the room.

  He placed his hand on the door handle just as an enormous explosion rocked the palace. The sound of shattering glass further down the terrace was interspersed by the clatter of debris rattling against the windows as shocked exclamations rose over the king’s voice. A ripple of fear spread through the room.

  “Please, ladies and gentlemen, stay calm. We are safe here,” the king promised, his face pale. He bent to talk to Fonorion, who responded firmly. The king nodded and continued his speech. “Many of you are aware of the recent return of the Sentinals. Let me introduce them to you ...”

  Jennery slipped out of the ballroom, ducked into the antechamber to grab his sword belt, and rushed down the corridor. He skidded to a halt as Bryce erupted into the entrance hall fighting a man dressed all in black. One arm dangled limply, as he defended himself against an onslaught of overhead blows. Jennery unsheathed his sword and entered the fray, taking the pressure off Bryce, who gave way gratefully. The unexpected arrival of another opponent put the man off his stride, and Jennery dispatched him. A second explosion shook the palace and faint shrieks from the ballroom penetrated the entrance hall.

  “Check Darllion is alright,” Bryce gasped. “They’re after the prince.”

  Jennery dashed out of the palace, across the parade ground, and down the stairs towards the cells. Bodies were strewn across the steps, a testament to the ferocious defence the guards had put up. A gaping hole in the wall still smoked; Jennery passed it, staring in disbelief. He rounded the curve and paused at the bottom of the stairs, trying to decipher the scene in front of him. Princess Selvia seemed to be trying to climb all over Jerrol.

  22

  Palace Grounds

  Jerrol left the ballroom light at heart and with a smile on his face. He had finally managed to dance with Taelia, stealing her away from a glowering Torsion under the benevolent gaze of the Scholar Deane. She had felt so right in his arms. Her face was aglow as she looked up at him. She must have forgiven him.

  Smiling down at her, he had known a few moments of sheer bliss, which he squirrelled away. They didn’t happen often. At the end of the dance, he reluctantly returned her to Torsion’s arm and left.

  He met Birlerion in the small ante-chamber beside the ballroom. “Stay and cover the king and Prince Anders. Don’t let them out of your sight.”

  “I won’t.” Birlerion said, and went to go back up to the gallery. He paused with his foot on the step. “Who’s got your back, Captain?” he asked.

  “The king is more important. We’ve invited the wolves into his home; they won’t be able to resist. I’m relying on you. Keep him secure.”

  Jerrol grimaced as Birlerion gave him a keen stare, before slowly nodding. “Be careful. I don’t want to be explaining anything to Tagerill.”

  Jerrol left before Birlerion could change his mind. He was halfway around the perimeter, murmuring encouragement to the men, when a bright flash lit up the sky, preceding a distant rumble, and then one of the warehouses erupted into flame. Astonished exclamations rose around him; what terrible magic had the descendants discovered?

  His stomach dropped as he looked up at the palace. Lady help him; he had no defence against such destructive power. “Hold the perimeter,” he yelled at the king’s guards as he saw a movement in the line. There was a ripple in the darkness.

  He faded into the shadows, working his way back towards the lower terraces. Guards were engaging along the perimeter. Clashing swords vibrated on the night air as he ghosted along the stone balustrades.

  A small group detached themselves from the shadows and skirted the terrace. They paused outside the glass doors before moving on. Jerrol followed. Checking the doors, he found a plain sack tucked away in the murky shadows. The rich baritone of the king’s voice came from inside the palace, his words a deep rumble. Sucking in his breath, Jerrol muttered a swift prayer before he grabbed the sack and flung it as far from the building as possible.

  He was blinded by the intense flash that lit the sky as the sack exploded in mid-air. The blast blew him across the terrace, slamming him hard against the palace wall. Flying debris clattered against the window. Shattered glass from the windows above fell like glinting snowflakes all around him. Stunned, he lay for a moment, his ears ringing. Stirring, he levered himself up and held his thumping head. His hands came awa
y, shaking and bloody.

  Taking a deep breath, Jerrol staggered to his feet and checked around him. Thank the Lady the palace doors were still whole. Guards were engaged across the gardens, though it was like he watched from afar; he couldn’t hear the clash of swords, even though the fighting was fierce. He stumbled around the terrace. Where had they gone?

  Another loud explosion buffeted him and he lost his footing as the ground bucked beneath him. He pushed himself up off the gravel, sharp stones cutting his palms as clods of dirt dropped around him. The dungeon. They were after Prince Kharel.

  Circling the edge of the palace, he staggered towards the grey stone building that housed the king’s cells. They must have blasted through the back wall; it was the only place he could think of for them to enter from the outside.

  The stone wall that edged the cells had a gaping hole in it. The stone smoked, and the stink of fire coals permeated the air. Had they found a way to burn rock? Jerrol jerked, his heart jumping as a hand grabbed his shoulder. He hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind him. A frenzied guard shouted at him, but Jerrol couldn’t make out what he was saying. The man’s eyes were wild and bulging. Jerrol shook him, noting the gold armband. “Stay here,” he shouted. “Don’t let anyone out.” He pointed at the smoking hole.

  Jerrol unsheathed his sword and climbed through the hole, watching the stones above him warily; they didn’t look too secure. He descended the stone steps, peering around the curve in the corridor. His ears were still ringing; he couldn’t hear a thing. He halted at the bottom.