Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  “Yes, sir. We had the barracks prepared for your arrival. It is a relief to have some trained men here. Captain Landis seems to know his stuff, if I may say so. You’ll also need these; these are the personnel reports. There is a transcript of each of the interviews I performed and my findings,” Peppins replied, stacking his papers in a pile. He left Jennery to pick up the first report and returned to the desk outside Jennery’s study.

  Having left the maids sorting out her baggage in the pretty room her daughter had escorted her to the previous evening, Lady Miranda descended the stairs and walked out of the house towards the sentinals. She was drawn towards Tagerill’s sentinal. She couldn’t say why, just that she wanted to inspect it more closely. Standing under the broad canopy, she peered up in awe, reaching for the silver trunk as she overbalanced. She gasped as the air shimmered and twisting around, she heard Tagerill whisper her name.

  “Miranda?”

  “Tagerill, how are you?” She hurried to his side, hesitating by the golden strands that spun around the bed that Tagerill lay in.

  He stared up at her, a slight crease on his brow. His face was pale and wan, his silver eyes dull with pain. “How did you get here?” he asked in bewilderment.

  She bent over him, passing through the strands, and gently kissed him. “I came with Alyssa and Jennery.”

  His uninjured arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, and she giggled in relief. “I’ve been so worried; the reports of your injuries were so terrible.”

  “I’m sure they were exaggerated,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ll be up in no time now that my sentinal is here,” he reassured her, his eyes brightening as she relaxed against him. His grip tightened. “I thought I was dreaming.”

  Miranda chuckled. “I expect we’re both dreaming,” she said, lifting her head off his chest. “I’m not quite sure where I am.”

  “With me, where you belong,” Tagerill said as his eyes closed and his breathing deepened. “Don’t go,” he said as she stirred.

  “I’ll be here when you wake up,” she promised, smoothing his coppery red hair off his forehead, and Tagerill relaxed into the healing sleep that his tree created for him.

  Miranda held his hand as he slept. After a while, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips before rising and tucking his hand under the light blanket. Reluctantly, she stepped back, watching the golden strands close the gap she had left. “You will tell me when he is due to wake up? I promised I’d be here,” she asked, staring around her.

  The interior of the sentinal tree was the same silver sheen of bark as the exterior but softened by a swirling mist above, and a golden glow that was emanating from Tagerill. She felt the assent in the air around her. “Thank you. How do I leave?” She had no sooner said the words than she was outside, leaning against the trunk.

  The day passed as preparations for the confirmation were completed. Alyssa had ordered a simple ceremony; all they needed was for the local villagers to bear witness before the Lady.

  Lady Olivia arrived, escorted by a convalescent Bryce, released by the healer on condition that he didn’t do anything energetic. Bryce gritted his teeth and agreed. Their carriage swept up the approach road and disgorged them and their luggage. Jennery nabbed Bryce and herded him into his office before he had finished greeting Alyssa, pelting him with questions about Jerrol and the Justice office.

  Olivia was relieved to be passing on the guardianship she had gained when her husband had been killed, and her son had failed to take up the mantle. She was in full agreement to pass it on to Alyssa, and as the two of them strolled around the grounds discussing the Watch, Olivia shared all she knew. Denirion followed close behind, his alert silver gaze observing all.

  Bryce watched amused as Jennery and Landis spent their time planning their defences and sending out scouts, taking it in turns to drive their men to distraction. Tagerill slept long and deep, and Miranda visited every few hours to check his progress. The golden strands were beginning to fade, and Miranda hoped it was a sign that Tagerill would soon be well enough to be released.

  On the morning of their confirmation, Jennery surprised Alyssa with a bouquet of scented flowers and, taking her hand led her down to the sentinal trees by the lake. Denirion stood by the water’s edge. Tagerill was seated to the side, his right arm in a sling, but looking much better. Alyssa’s mother stood beside Tagerill, her hand resting on his shoulder.

  “I thought we should be joined in the sight of the Lady before we took on the guardianship; just us and the Lady,” Jennery said, staring deep into Alyssa’s eyes.

  Alyssa leaned against him, lifting her face for a kiss. She whispered a gentle question, her eyes gleaming as she glanced at her mother and Tagerill. Jennery’s smile deepened as he followed her gaze. “We’ll witness your joining if you’ll witness ours,” he said with a soft grin.

  Miranda gasped as Tagerill awkwardly rose. He held out a trembling hand. “Shall we?” he asked, his heart in his voice.

  And so, under a shimmering green canopy of majestic Sentinals, amongst an air of celebration and happiness and a moment of shared joy, Alyssa and Jennery and Tagerill and Miranda said their vows under the watchful eye of the Lady.

  Later that afternoon, the townspeople began to gather around the home lake, waiting expectantly for the new Lord and Lady of the Watch to be confirmed. Lord Simeon of Greenswatch had arrived, but on such short notice, the other Lords had sent their regrets along with their congratulations. Lady Miranda and her son, Simeon, were reunited, and a general air of expectation pervaded the Watch.

  Denirion stood forward and began to recite the service. “It is my honour here today to invest the Guardianship of Deepwater and the future of our land and its people to be held and protected so that we may flourish and prosper. Lady Alyssa, please step forward.”

  Alyssa stood and strode up to the dais as the townsfolk stirred in surprise. She knelt before Denirion and stared up into his face.

  “Alyssa. The Guardians created Remargaren in the hopes of building a peaceful and prosperous world. In their name, do you accept responsibility for the Land that is Deepwater, which extends from the River Vesp in the west to the Stoneford border in the East and is known as Deepwater Watch?”

  “I do,” Alyssa replied.

  “Alyssa, in the name of the Lady, do you swear to honour Deepwater; to protect and nurture its people; to guard their right to live within your Watch?”

  “I so swear.” Alyssa’s voice was firm.

  “In sight of the Land, do you swear to nurture and propagate the natural resources given to your care?”

  “I so swear.”

  “Before me, and at the behest of the King and Lady, do you swear to uphold the laws of the land and to join in the protection of Vespiri should it be needed?”

  “I so swear.”

  “As Guardian, do you swear to honour and protect the treaties of Remargaren?”

  “Guardians protect and in turn are protected. Keep the line. All honour to the Lady,” Alyssa replied, her voice ringing out across the lake. The audience rippled with expectation as Denirion and Tagerill’s graceful sentinals began to glow.

  “And so, in the presence of your peers and with the blessing of the Guardians who created our world, I declare that Alyssa, daughter of Hugh and Miranda, be known as Lady Alyssa of Deepwater; hers to keep and honour for so long as she shall live; to pass through her descendants in perpetuity. Rise, Lady Alyssa, and accept the Lady’s blessing.”

  The sentinal trees burst into light, a golden glow extending to the pointy ends of their leaves as they lit up the lake. People began cheering as Alyssa rose, stiffening her shoulders as the guardianship settled, and then she hugged Denirion; a huge smile on her face.

  Lady Olivia pulled her out of Denirion’s embrace and kissed her on either cheek. “The Lady is pleased, well done,” she whispered. As she stepped back, Jennery swooped in to engulf his wife in a huge hug, swinging her around, and then, after setting
her back on the ground, to more decorously lead her towards the celebrations.

  The villagers crowded around, eager to be part of the birth of a new guardianship, which was clearly blessed by the Lady. Word would soon spread that Deepwater had been redeemed.

  26

  Chapterhouse, Old Vespers

  It was nearly a week since the king’s ball. Rumours were flying around Old Vespers regarding what had happened and Commander Jerrol Haven featured prominently in them. Jerrol hadn’t been back to the Chapterhouse since. Torsion supposed the king was keeping him busy, along with that Sentinal. Torsion ground his teeth. Birlerion would pay; Torsion would find a way.

  The Chapterhouse was quiet. Liliian had worn a trail up to the palace due to the number of meetings she was having. Torsion was leaving for the Watch Towers at Liliian’s request. This was his last chance for a while to speak with Taelia.

  Torsion stood in the shelter of the Chapterhouse arches as Taelia walked through the gardens to her favourite seat by the fountain. She raised her face to the silvery gleam of the waning moon, which gilded her and everything around her in silver and shadow. Glancing around the courtyard, Torsion smiled. It seemed they had the place to themselves this evening.

  He strolled into the gardens and paused at the fountain. “The sound of water is always so relaxing, isn’t it?” he said as he dipped a hand into the cold water.

  Taelia turned her head at the sound of his voice. “Yes, can you hear the music too?”

  “The music?”

  “Yes, the water sings if you listen carefully.”

  “I’ve never sat long enough to listen. The sound always makes me want to doze,” he admitted.

  “Which is good for you, but you should listen too. The water appreciates a good listener.”

  “I expect it does,” he agreed. “I wanted to talk to you. I am being re-assigned to the Watch Towers to go and clean up the mess Jerrol left behind.” He frowned as Taelia’s lips tightened in response to his comment. “The history hidden in that place will be amazing. It will take more than one scholar to discover it all.”

  “You’ve always been drawn to the Towers, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. I’d love to show them to you, Taelia. We could make wonderful discoveries. You and I work well together. We’ve had plenty of practice.” He sat on the bench next to her. “We make a good team.”

  Taelia laughed and reached to grip his arm. “That we do,” she agreed with a smile.

  “Come with me,” he urged, thankful that she couldn’t see his heightened colour as he took her hand. “I’d look after you. I’ve always been there for you, you know that!”

  “Go with you?” Taelia repeated, withdrawing her hand.

  Torsion grabbed her retreating hand. “Yes, come and experience the world with me. There are great things we could do together.” His blood stirred at the thought as he pictured what he wanted to do with her. His grip tightened. He’d have her soon.

  “No, I have plenty of work to do here.”

  “Others can do it. Join me and make a difference,” Torsion said, excitement rushing through him as he searched her shocked face.

  “I-I can’t. I have important work to do here,” Taelia stammered, her cheeks heating.

  “You mean searching the archives for Jerrol?” Torsion scowled at her. “I’ve seen you and Mary scouring that room. There is nothing to find; there is much more at the Towers.” And she would be away from the influence of those Sentinals, he thought.

  Taelia stiffened. “My work is as important as yours, Torsion. You never value what I contribute.”

  Torsion pulled her into his arms and tried to kiss her. “I have more important work we can do together,” he murmured, tightening his embrace.

  “Torsion! What do you think you’re doing?” Taelia’s voice came out as a squeak as she tried to push her hands against his chest, but his grip tightened.

  “You know how I feel about you; I’ve always been here for you, haven’t I? Not like some we could mention.” Torsion tried to smother her face in kisses, oblivious to her struggles. His heart raced now that he had her in his arms. He had dreamed of it often enough.

  Taelia tried to twist out of his grip. Her voice shook as she struggled. “Torsion! No. Let me go.”

  Torsion stiffened in shock as a hand gripped his shoulder. “Torsion! She said let go.”

  Torsion jerked away from Taelia in surprise, Jerrol’s voice as welcome as a cold rain shower. Taelia slipped out of his loosened grasp and stumbled to Jerrol’s side.

  “Where did you come from? Always saving the day,” Torsion sneered, as he tried to calm his breathing, furious at being interrupted.

  “A fleeting visit,” Jerrol replied. “What’s wrong, Torsion? I thought you were her friend.”

  “Well, if she will lead a man on, what can she expect?” Torsion said, his face flushed.

  “I never did,” gasped Taelia. “I thought we were friends.”

  “Oh, more than a friend, my dear. I’m good enough when he’s not around. Is that it?”

  “Torsion, I never meant to mislead you. I enjoy your company, but as friends! I thought you understood.”

  “Or is it that Sentinal you prefer? You seemed to enjoy his company the other day.” Torsion bit his words off, the anger building within him. He trembled as he tried to contain the emotions that were about to overwhelm him.

  Taelia stiffened, her fingers curling into fists. Her face hardened. “Birlerion knows the meaning of courtesy and good manners much better than you do.”

  Torsion shook as a mask of indifference descended over his face, the harshness fading from his expression. His anger drained away as icy cold calculation replaced it. Straightening, he stiffened his shoulders and stared at Taelia, ignoring Jerrol. “Oh, never mind. Taelia, my lovely, please accept my apologies. I misjudged the situation.” And with a sweeping bow, he stalked out of the courtyard.

  Jerrol's touch was fleeting. “I can’t stay, love. But you can’t trust him; promise me you will be careful. Something is not right.” Jerrol dropped a kiss on her head. It was as light as a feather, hardly an impression, but such a familiar action that Taelia went to lean into him in response. But he wasn’t there.

  “Jerrol?” As she reached out in front of her, she realized she was alone. She must have pulled him to her in her need, a blessing from the Lady. She wasn’t sure how she had done it. As instinctive as if breathing, she could translocate herself, and it seemed Jerrol as well. She would have to ponder on that. Could she move other things or people? The scholar within her began analysing the possibilities.

  A smile dawned on her face. He had called her ‘love’! She spun around, treasuring the warm feeling. He had forgiven her. She hugged the word tight inside her.

  Deserts of Terolia

  “Captain? Wake up!” Birlerion’s voice was sharp on the chill night air.

  Jerrol opened bleary eyes. “W-What’s the matter?” he asked. He had a cracking headache. He looked around the camp, tugging his robe tighter as his breath misted around him. All was quiet, dawn hours away yet. Nil’ano was bundled up in his robes, fast asleep.

  “You called out, and then you collapsed. I couldn’t wake you.” Birlerion sounded on edge.

  “I was dreaming,” Jerrol paused, trying to remember. “Or, I think I was dreaming. I’m not sure. It all seemed so real. Taelia needed me. Something to do with her and Torsion.” He rubbed his temple, trying to remember. Something had been very wrong. He eased back down into his blankets, exhausted and dozed off, leaving Birlerion glancing over at him as he settled back down in his own blankets.

  It took five days to reach the town of Ramila; five days of parched grass plains giving way to unrelenting desert; five days of Birlerion watching him with concern. The sun beat down on them from a clear blue sky and the heat reflected up from the golden sun-baked ground, with Jerrol melting in the middle. The excessive layers suffocated him even though they were supposed to help cool the skin and
reduce the chance of sunstroke.

  Jerrol was not convinced. He was sweating in places he didn’t know he could sweat. The only reason his hair wasn’t plastered to his face was because it was hidden under the swathes of material that Birlerion had wrapped around his head.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” Nil’ano said in surprise as he inspected their turbans.

  “It’s the only way I know,” Birlerion said with a sad smile. “I suppose a lot has changed since I last visited Terolia.”

  Nil’ano chuckled. “My boy, you will bring about a new style. When the Families see it, they’ll fall over themselves to copy it.”

  Zin’talia spent an inordinate amount of time telling Jerrol about local tradition and drilling home the point that the locals, in general, knew best. Jerrol did his best to pay attention. He did not spurn an expert when one was presented to him for free.

  As they approached the town of Ramila, she was still instructing him.

  “Listen to Birlerion. He knows what he’s talking about. His ideas may be a little antiquated but they worked back then. No reason why they shouldn’t work now.”

  “You’re a fan now?”

  “I was never not a fan. I like him. He’s relaxed a bit. Maybe he’s getting used to me.”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact he found you some Baliweed when we met those traders?”

  “I said he was resourceful,” Zin’talia replied, and Jerrol smiled at her smug tone.

  “You said no such thing.” His gaze rested on the back of the Sentinal.

  Birlerion had surprised him again. Taking the lead when they passed a caravan of Terolians heading north, Birlerion had hailed the Terolians like they were old friends, and his greetings broke down barriers with ease. It seemed that Birlerion was familiar with the Families. He should have known.