Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  Marianille stiffened. “The Captain made the decision, Your Majesty. I didn’t have any say in it. The Captain was, let us say, angry with the Families…” Her voice was firm. “He thought that if they couldn’t look after their people, then they didn’t deserve to rule.”

  “And they agreed?” the king asked more moderately.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s all in there.” Nil’ano indicated the papers again. “The Captain left the Sentinals to watch over them. He committed Vespiri to ensure their security, allowing the Families to manage the internal government on condition that they submitted to your rule, Your Majesty. I captured it all as it was agreed.”

  “And what did the commander threaten if they refused?”

  Niallerion swallowed, running a finger around his collar. “Um, he didn’t say, but with the Sentinals standing behind him, I don’t think anyone dared to ask. They knew what had happened at the Telusions and they knew he was very upset.”

  “Upset?”

  “I would recommend you never see the Captain upset. It’s frightening.” Marianille gave a faint smile. “It was all according to law. The accords are watertight, Your Majesty. You, ah, now rule Terolia, as well.”

  “What happened at the Telusions to make Commander Haven so angry that he would annex a whole country? That’s the mountain range, isn’t it? The one we couldn’t find on the map?” the king asked, his eyes glinting dangerously.

  Niallerion blanched. “Um, a lot of innocent people died, Your Majesty. We found the crystal mines; a lot of starving people and no crystals left. Mined out long ago, yet they still had hundreds of people, slaves, working the mines. They were starving and ill-kept, digging for dirt. Such a waste.” Niallerion shook himself. “The Captain kept them inside the mountain. They were dehydrated, starving, in poor shape. The heat would have done for them. We were trying to alleviate the worst of the conditions when the mountain blew up, caved in on itself, buried them alive.” Niallerion stopped, his eyes wide. “There was nothing we could do; it was a whole mountain that collapsed. The Captain didn’t take it well.”

  “I imagine not,” Prince Anders choked.

  “We saved forty-two people. Took them back to Melila for help,” Marianille said. “Then the Captain took us back to Mistra and called a Master Conclave. Don’t know how he did it, but he got representatives from all six of the Families together, and that is the result,” she finished, nodding at the accords on the king’s desk.

  “Where is the commander?”

  “He went to the Watch Towers with Birlerion, Your Majesty. Something about a veil?” Nil’ano replied.

  The king closed his eyes.

  Prince Anders leaned forward. “Sentinal Marianille, Niallerion, we thank you for you assistance and welcome you back to Vespers. Ambassador Nil’ano, that will be all for now. We will read the accords. The king will call you if he needs to speak to you further.”

  The Sentinals left the room as fast as they could; eager to avoid any further awkward questions. The king’s voice rose behind them.

  “He annexed a whole country!”

  “He must have had good reason, and by the sounds of it, he did,” Liliian responded, trying to sound reasonable.

  “And now he’s gone to the Towers to seal the Veil.”

  “He will return soon, and he will tell you about it himself,” Liliian said soothingly.

  “He is the Lady’s Captain, after all,” Anders said, reaching for the papers.

  “That may be so, but to annex a whole country!” King Benedict snagged another paper and collapsed into his chair to read it.

  44

  Stoneford Keep, Stoneford Watch

  Many hours later, Tyrone entered Lord Jason’s study. Jason raised his head from the papers littered over his desk and Tyrone internally winced at the sight of his face. New lines of worry creased his skin, adding to the wrinkles. He had visibly aged overnight.

  Taelia was curled up in a chair in the corner, dozing against the arm. She jerked upright as the door clicked. Jason stopped working and leaned back in his chair. “Well?” he asked as Tyrone flopped into the chair opposite.

  Tyrone’s face tightened in anger. “If I ever get my hands on whoever attacked Jerrol, he will regret it.”

  “Join the queue,” Jason said. “Will Jerrol be alright?”

  “He’s tough. I will say that for him.” He glanced across at Taelia and shrugged. “I had to amputate the damaged fingers; it was the only way to get them to a state for them to cleanly heal. As long as no infection sets into the bone, we should be able to save the hand.” He paused as Taelia gasped. “Sorry, m’dear, but it is a risk. Generally, he’s stable. We’ve got the fever under control and he is much more comfortable.”

  He didn’t mention the delirium or the distress that kept dragging Jerrol out of the induced sleep he was trying to keep him in. “We’ll observe him tonight. He should be recovered enough for you to visit him tomorrow afternoon,” he said, as he levered himself out of the chair. “You should go to bed too, both of you.” He nodded at Jason and left the room.

  Jason rose. “He’s right, Taelia. You need some sleep. You’ll see ... be with him tomorrow.” Taelia reluctantly stood. “Come, let me show you to your room,” Jason said as he steered her out of his office.

  Jason tapped on the door of the guest room assigned to Tagerill, opening the door at his acknowledgement. Tagerill looked up as he entered. He lay the sword he was sharpening across his lap as Jason shut the door behind him and briefly closed his eyes.

  “Tyrone had to amputate the damaged fingers. He says they’ll heal cleanly. Jerrol is comfortable now, not so distressed. We can visit him tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Good,” Tagerill said with relief, some of his tension easing. “He was determined to come back here. He wanted to do something for Saerille, I think. I don’t think he could face losing a second Sentinal.”

  “What’s this? Who was lost? What happened?”

  Tagerill hunched his shoulders, keeping his face carefully blank. The horrendous loss ripping through him was not for public viewing. “We lost Serillion. Saerille and Birlerion are missing. I don’t know what happened. The Captain wouldn’t say, though I think he blames himself. What I got from Taelia and Jenkins was that the Captain had been in Terolia for over a month with Birlerion. They were on their way back and stopped in to see Torsion. There’s some confusion over Torsion, as well. It seems he’s missing, too.”

  “Now you mention it, I remember him passing through. That’s right,” Jason paused, his brow wrinkling. “He spoke to your sentinal and it upped and left. Stoneford not good enough for you?” he teased.

  Tagerill’s face eased. “That was such a shock. I felt him arrive. They couldn’t keep me in the infirmary after that. Certain sentinal trees can speed up the healing process. That’s why I was going to take the Captain straight to Deepwater. My sentinal is prepared to heal him.”

  “How are Jennery and Alyssa doing?”

  “Loving life and each other at the moment. It was a shame you missed the joining. It was special.”

  “I’m glad all is well with them and you too, I hear.”

  Tagerill blushed. “Indeed, I am fortunate. I’ve been training with their troops; undisciplined lot. It has been good rehabilitation for me,” Tagerill said, flexing his arm. “But now I think it’s time to return to the Captain and Vespers. He is not safe out on his own.”

  “Safe for whom?” Jason laughed. “We’ll see how he is tomorrow. Sleep well, Tagerill.”

  “Lady’s blessings,” Tagerill replied, returning to his sword and sliding the whetstone down the edge.

  When Jerrol awoke, he lay still, listening. He wasn’t sure where he was. He had a cacophony of images in his head and he wasn’t sure which ones were real. He remembered speaking with Serillion, but that wasn’t possible. He was dead. His stomach fluttered at the memory. Ain’uncer had attacked him and he had stolen Zin’talia, as well. Why? He missed her touch, her sof
t crooning, and her complaints. His head echoed emptily.

  Images of Taelia and Tagerill were mixed in with a ranger he had never met before, and he had lost Birlerion, as well. His breath caught. He had been searching for him, desperately. He would no longer have the reassurance of him behind his shoulder. He opened his eyes, trying to ease the growing tightness in his chest, and breathed a small sigh of relief as he recognized his surroundings. Stoneford infirmary.

  His stomach clenched in panic. He couldn’t feel his hand; had Ain’uncer chopped it off? He tried to lift it but couldn’t. He attempted to sit up but hands pressed him back down. “Oh no, you don’t. You stay right where you are.”

  Jerrol stared up into the healer’s face, and fear lurked in his eyes. “Tyrone, my hand.”

  “Your hand will be fine if you do as you are told. Yes, you’ve lost two fingers, but you’ve still got the other three,” Tyrone replied, seeing the need for reassurance as Jerrol relaxed back against the pillows.

  Jerrol’s brows contracted. “I don’t remember how I got here. I’m not sure what was real and what wasn’t.”

  “I expect most of what you remember was hallucinations as we’ve been dosing you to keep you under whilst we tidied up the mess you made of your hand. But Tagerill and Taelia brought you here with a King’s Ranger yesterday. They’ll be in to visit you later when you’ve eaten and had another nap.”

  “I can’t sleep my life away. I have to return to Vespers and report to the king.”

  “He can wait another day or two. You sent Marianille and Niallerion on ahead, didn’t you? He can make do with that report for now. Here comes your breakfast; some nice scrambled eggs. Make sure you eat them all.” Tyrone eased Jerrol upright and stacked another pillow behind him. “Take it slow,” he advised, “you’re not going anywhere today.”

  Jerrol stared at the plate in front of him, forgetting as he tried to lift his right hand. It was splinted and heavy. He fumbled for the fork with his left hand and began clumsily eating. He was suddenly famished.

  Tyrone observed him from his desk. Time was what Jerrol needed; time to adjust, time to cope, and he knew he wouldn’t get it. He would give him what he could. A day or two maybe. Even that would not be long enough. Tyrone shook his head and returned to writing up his notes.

  Jerrol did doze once he had chased his eggs around the plate for a while. Giving up, he had let the assistant take the plate away and had accepted his help to lay back down. He dozed some more, listening to the gentle sounds of people moving about the infirmary or talking in low tones. It was soothing.

  After a bowl of soup for lunch—he was much more successful with the spoon than the fork—he lay propped up by pillows, ruminating over the events at the Watch Towers. He flinched away from thinking about the people he had lost, squirming against his pillows. He thought of Terolia. He hoped the king had approved of his decisions. Well, it was too late now.

  “They were the right decisions,” a soft voice said in the back of his mind.

  He relaxed. “Saerille, how are you?”

  “Better than you, I fear. I am sorry, Captain.”

  “For what?”

  “For not being there to help. I failed Serillion, not you.”

  Jerrol rubbed his face. “We did our best, and no one can ask for more. We didn’t fail; we sealed the Veil. You managed to hold the defences for far longer than you should have had to, and Serillion gave me the time to repair it properly. Both of those events occurred because someone else was trying to stop us. It is their fault, not ours. I was the one who put you in danger; all of you. You did what I asked of you, and I couldn’t expect more. Thank you, Saerille; thank you for holding on.”

  Saerille was silent for a moment. “Thank you, Captain; and thank you for the shelter. But I think it is time I returned to my sentinal. He is calling, and I can see the path. I will assist Chryllion and we will await your orders. I recommend you stay within Chryllion’s Sentinal for at least a day; he will speed your recovery, and the Waystones will cut your journey, so the king will never have to know.” Jerrol felt her smile grow. “Oh, and for goodness sake, tell Taelia you love her and put us all out of our misery. The poor girl deserves better from you.”

  Jerrol winced. The downside of sharing your head with someone else was that they knew what you were thinking. He would have held his hands up in surrender if he could, but instead, he wished her a fond farewell and a small weight lifted and disappeared. His head was getting emptier and very lonely.

  Worrying about Zin’talia, he tentatively reached out again, pushing as far as he could, extending what, he wasn’t sure, but he concentrated on calling her. Silence. He almost laughed out loud at the thought that hearing Zin’talia complain all the time was normal and that he missed it. He led a strange life. Would Taelia really want to share it?

  “You won’t know unless you ask her.” Saerille’s gentle thought intruded.

  He brightened. “Hey,” he thought, “does this mean we can still talk? Across distance?”

  “Seems like it,” she thought in return, and he smiled in response.

  “Well, someone is in a better mood this afternoon.” Tyrone’s voice cut across his reflections.

  “I feel much better. As I said, I wasn’t sure what was real and what was not. Things don’t seem so out of control now.”

  “Good. In that case, you can have visitors. Jason and Tagerill are waiting outside; you can have fifteen minutes with them and then you can see Taelia.”

  Jason and Tagerill entered his room, relief on their faces as they saw a clear-eyed and centred man in place of the feverish wreck they had seen the previous day.

  “Well, Tyrone works wonders,” Jason said. “You don’t look the same person.”

  Jerrol grinned. “That he does. I’d shake your hands and say thank you, but it’s all a bit awkward now. I’ll figure it out.”

  “I think Jenkins is the one to thank. He got you out and stopped you bleeding to death,” Tagerill’s deep voice corrected him.

  “Ah, yes, he must feel a bit displaced with the rest of his unit missing.”

  Lord Jason chuckled. “He seems to think he’s been reassigned to the Captain’s Guard, so he isn’t too worried.”

  “Good. I need all the help I can get.”

  “Nikols will be complaining soon. We keep stealing his men,” Tagerill said.

  “I’ll send him some of my apprentices. They need to widen their experience,” Jason said with a laugh.

  Jerrol looked at him. “I think that is a great idea. We should rotate the men, so they meet more of their counterparts and understand how they work. Makes it easier when we need to co-ordinate across the Watches. If the rumbles from Elothia continue, we could have an all-out war. Having consistent working practices will make all the difference. Once I am back in the Justice’s office, I’ll suggest we get our Captains together for discussion and agree on how it could work.”

  Jason stared at him. “You really are going to take over the Justice’s Office?”

  “Didn’t the king announce it? Haven’t you had any dispatches from them?”

  “Nothing for at least a month.”

  “Well, I’ll fix that for sure, and if you don’t hear anything from me for a week, then send a runner and ask why.”

  “Yes, commander,” Jason replied, and they all broke out into laughter.

  The laughter faded, and Jerrol looked up at them. “What news of Birlerion?”

  Tagerill’s face tightened. “There was no sign of him, but he’s alive, Captain. The Ascendants must have taken him.”

  Jerrol closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have taken him up there. I led him into an ambush.”

  “Well, it was a good job you did or you wouldn’t be here now. From what I hear he took out your ambush and the Ascendants,” Jason said.

  Jerrol rolled his head on his pillow. “Tagerill?”

  “He is resilient. They won’t find it easy to break him down.” Tagerill was silent a mom
ent and then he asked, “Do you have any idea where the Ascendants were going? Did Ain’uncer say anything?”

  Jerrol tried to remember. “It’s all a blur. Jenkins said something; something about him planning a trip. Ask him.” He relaxed back on his pillows, exhausted. He raised his arm off the bed. “I’ll be rehabilitating for a while.”

  “Chryllion’s sentinal has offered to help with that,” Tagerill said.

  “I’ll accept his offer gladly,” Jerrol said with a washed-out smile. “Oh, and visit Saerille before we leave. She is back in her tree. Jason, she will be ready to support Chryllion in a couple of days. She just needs a little time to readjust.”

  Jerrol tried to keep his face straight as she made a rude noise in his head. “Stop eavesdropping,” he thought to her.

  “Yes, sir,” she thought back, laughing.

  A smile blossomed on Tagerill’s face. “Saerille is alright? That is great news. Wait till I tell Chryllion!”

  They were interrupted by Tyrone. “Time, gentlemen. We don’t want to exhaust our Captain in one go.”

  “He’s a commander now,” Jason said, eyes twinkling. “Commander of the King’s Justice.”

  “Is he, now? Then it’s time for the commander to rest before his next visitor.”

  “Jason, I’ll send a report to you on Vespers and Terolia. I need to arrange a scribe. There is no way I can write it all left-handed. Tagerill, come back in the morning. We need to talk about Waystones.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Tagerill said as he rose under Tyrone’s glare.

  Jason corrected him as they left the room. “He’s a commander now.”

  “He will always be the Captain, being a commander doesn’t change that,” Tagerill replied. They continued to argue as they left the infirmary.

  Jerrol scowled at Tyrone. “How long will it be before fifteen minutes of talking doesn’t exhaust me?”

  Tyrone smiled and patted his shoulder. “Longer than you’ll like, but if you build up gradually, you’ll regain your strength. I think your activities over the last month in Terolia have contributed to your general debilitation. This is not just a result of your hand. However, it is a contributing factor.”