Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  “Not surprising, I suppose. A chance to sit behind a desk for a while, then, and have a rest,” Jerrol murmured, closing his eyes. Exhaustion ambushed him and he drifted off to sleep.

  She sat next to him when he woke. A smile spread across his face as he opened his eyes. Taelia held his left hand, stroking it gently. The impression from her kiss was still warm on his skin. He basked in the glow that warmed his heart whenever she was near. “Tali,” he said.

  She turned her face towards him and smiled the smile that was just for him. He was a fool; how could he live another day without her?

  “Jerrol, how are you?”

  “Much better for seeing you.”

  “Truly, Jerrol? You’re not just saying that?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Tali. You’d know, anyway.” He laughed. “You can always see straight through me.”

  “Not always.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, watching her face.

  “What for?”

  He had surprised her. She didn’t realize how much of what she thought she expressed on her face.

  “For not being there. For not writing. For not saying I love you often enough.” Jerrol gripped her hand.

  Taelia hesitated a heartbeat, her face an open book. Her beautiful eyes shone with tears. “Oh, Jerrol, I love you too. Anyway, I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” Her tears fell on his hand.

  “Don’t cry,” he said, trying to disentangle his hand long enough to wipe her tears away. “This is going to be a darned inconvenience.”

  “What is?”

  “Only having one useful hand!”

  Her face screwed up in distress.

  “Hey, don’t be upset; it will heal. I’ll get used it. My writing may be atrocious for a while, but things will improve.”

  “Jerrol, do you forgive me? For pushing you away that day in Vespers, for hurting you the other day.”

  “Sweetheart, you’ve never pushed me away, and if you hadn’t cauterized my fingers, I probably wouldn’t be here today. You didn’t hurt me, Ain’uncer did.”

  Her face tightened again, displacing that beautiful glow. “I don’t understand why he would do such a thing.”

  “Let’s not talk about him. We have more interesting things to talk about,” Jerrol pulled her nearer.

  “Like what?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face.

  “Like this,” he said as he kissed her.

  Checking in on Jerrol a little while later, Tyrone smiled to himself. The healing was progressing nicely.

  Two days later, Tagerill escorted Jerrol and Taelia to Old Vespers. Jerrol argued that only his hand was injured; the rest of him was alright, especially since Chryllion’s sentinal had helped speed his healing.

  Jason and Tyrone helped Jerrol into his clothes, the shirt and jacket a larger size than normal to get over the splint, but both Jason and Tyrone watched in awe as Jerrol’s borrowed clothes shimmered into his usual uniform. The larger size made no difference in the end. Tyrone strapped his arm up, making sure he wouldn’t be able to use it. Jerrol finally laughed. “Peace, Tyrone. I’ll never get out of it on my own. You don’t have to truss me up.”

  Jerrol agreed to Tagerill’s escort on condition that he returned to guard Alyssa and Jennery in Deepwater and stayed with Lady Miranda. Jennery would need all the help he could get to whip his forces into shape, and anyway, Jerrol would have Marianille and Niallerion to keep an eye on him in Vespers.

  They stepped out of the Waystone behind the Chapterhouse, and Taelia bent over, hugging her stomach. “I don’t think speed compensates for the discomfort,” she gasped, her face pale and sweating. Jerrol rubbed her back and offered the canteen. Jenkins fared no better, and he groaned into the ground as Tagerill stood over him until they had recovered enough to mount their horses.

  They clattered into the palace courtyard, and Jerrol handed off the reins of his borrowed horse as Darris appeared at the top of the steps to take him to the king. Jerrol stopped just over the threshold as he was pierced by the glaring blue eyes of the king, though the king’s expression softened as he took in the state of his commander.

  “Jerrol,” the king said mildly. “You’d better sit down before you fall over.”

  Bowing briefly, Jerrol walked over to the chair that the king indicated. If he knelt, he didn’t think he would be able to stand again, and it seemed the king had some inkling of his exhaustion as he sat in his chair.

  “I think you have a lot of explaining to do. But first, you’re hurt. Do you need a healer?”

  “Thank you, sire. No. It’s been treated. It will heal in time,” Jerrol replied with a slight smile.

  “You’d better tell me what you’ve been up to,” Benedict said.

  “Didn’t Marianille or Niallerion report what happened in Terolia?”

  The king snorted. “Marianille presented me with the papers and Niallerion was too terrified to be coherent. He just about managed to get out that I now rule Terolia and that you would explain before he bolted.”

  “I suppose it was a bit unfair, expecting them to carry the news.”

  “A bit. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  The only time the king interrupted was to ask, “What made you think you could annex a whole country for me?”

  “I was so overwhelmed by the enormity of the Ascendant’s network. The fact that all the Families must have been involved in some way or another; that they had let go of the fundamental principles upholding their society and weren’t falling over themselves to reinstate them. I thought they didn’t deserve to be in power.”

  “Simple as that?”

  “Well, not at the time. I think having had time to think about it on the way home has clarified my reasoning. They need someone overseeing them; someone who can keep an eye on the bigger picture and not become so insulated as they had done. I think they will do a better job of managing internal politics now. And I was furious about what happened at the Telusion mine,” Jerrol admitted.

  “So I heard. Your anger was … frightening was the word used; I believe.”

  Jerrol reddened. “It was the only way to break through their shell of self-interest.”

  “Well, it worked. And may I say, the accords are a masterpiece. We have much to discuss, but not right now.” The king looked at him, keenly. “And after all that, you went to the Watch Towers?” The king’s face was grim as Jerrol finished his report.

  Jerrol shrugged. “It’ll heal,” he said wryly. “If it hadn’t been for Birlerion, I wouldn’t be here at all. We have to find him.”

  “We will. But first you need to look to yourself.” Rising, the king pressed a button on his desk and met Darris at the door. He spoke softly and returned to Jerrol. Jerrol waited, content to drift. Exhaustion hovered, waiting to ambush him again.

  Darris entered the room with another glass on a small silver tray; the glass was filled with amber liquid. The king passed the glass to Jerrol. “Drink it.”

  The king watched as Jerrol drank. The brandy eased the tension in his body, and Jerrol relaxed against the back of his chair.

  “I think they’ll find that the price to pay for all their actions will be too high when it comes time for them to account for it,” the king said. “Right. You are off duty and on convalescence leave until I say otherwise. I will work with Anders and Ambassador Nil’ano to make the accords work.

  “You will rest and spend some time with your young lady. When you’ve recovered, we’ll speak again. Bryce and your Sentinals can hold the fort for a while longer. Darris will show you to your room. Healer Francis will be up to see you shortly. Don’t argue, do as you’re told,” King Benedict said sternly as Jerrol opened his mouth to protest.

  “Yes, sire,” Jerrol said, placing the empty glass on the table. He rose, his exhaustion visible.

  “And Jerrol? Thank you. I am honoured to have you as my Commander and Oath Keeper,” the king said formally before he dismissed him into the healer’s care.
>
  Jenkins ended up helping him into a bath. He had appointed himself as Jerrol’s aide, and he helped Jerrol undress and get into the water. Jerrol awkwardly held his hand up as he was sluiced down and then wrapped in warm towels. Jenkins helped him into his nightclothes and into bed. He obviously wasn’t going anywhere tonight. A light tap on the door heralded the arrival of Healer Francis.

  Francis looked at him from under grey, bushy eyebrows. “Well, looks like you’ve been busy, then.”

  Jerrol scowled, feeling somewhat disadvantaged. “I’m already in bed, and I’ll have no trouble sleeping.”

  “I think we’ll make sure of that,” the healer said, sitting on the side of the bed. “Drink that.” He handed over a vial as he began to unwrap the bandages on Jerrol’s right hand. Jerrol sighed and drank the vile liquid, knowing that he was not going to have a choice. His eyelids drooped almost immediately. The Healer distantly tutted before rewrapping Jerrol's hand in clean bandages.

  Whilst Jerrol slept, King Benedict interrogated everyone he could find, and that evening, he sat discussing Jerrol with Healer Francis.

  Francis shrugged. “Traumatic experiences affect people in different ways. We’ll have to keep an eye on him, and, to be honest, keeping him away from his work too long could be just as detrimental. It’s fortunate his young lady is here to distract him for a while.” He knew the king wanted him to tell him exactly when Jerrol would be fit for duty, but it was too early to commit to anything. “We’ll have a better idea in a week. Let’s see how he copes.”

  Jerrol awoke the next morning, still tired even after a good night’s sleep. The exhaustion crept through his body and he deliberated about not getting up. He lay in bed, worrying about Birlerion. Everyone kept saying that Birlerion was strong, but their expressions were bleak as they said it; more hope than conviction. Jerrol knew Birlerion was more vulnerable than they had realized, his experiences piling up like Jerrol’s and just as overwhelming.

  As his mind drifted towards memories he didn’t want to think about, he made an effort to get up. He began to dress before he could be stopped, deliberately concentrating on fastening the buttons with his left hand. He was sure they were all askew. Leaving his room, he found Taelia seated at a table, eating breakfast. She raised her face and smiled at him. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning. We are to be spoilt, are we? Breakfast delivered to our rooms?”

  “And so, they should. You are to be cosseted.”

  “As long as you are doing the cosseting, I’ll be happy.”

  “Deal,” she said with a coy smile that he couldn’t resist. He bent and kissed her. Taelia leaned into the kiss, her arms reaching for him, and then he embraced her, their bodies pressed tight together.

  “You need to eat some breakfast,” Taelia murmured against his lips.

  “In a minute,” Jerrol replied as they tottered over to the settee.

  Jerrol was stretched out on the settee, Taelia hovering above him, redoing his buttons by touch, when the door to their sitting-room opened and Jenkins arrived with a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Miss, he’s supposed to be resting. Healer’s orders,” Jenkins said, trying to keep a straight face as he placed the pot on the table.

  “He’s horizontal, isn’t he?” Taelia said with a laugh. “Count that as a win!”

  “Yes, miss, if you say so.” Jenkins backed out of the room with alacrity.

  “Oh dear.” Taelia smiled down at Jerrol. “He thinks we are depraved.”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Jerrol said, pulling her towards him.

  45

  Somewhere off the coast of Elothia

  Torsion stared out across the choppy grey water to the passing Elothian coastline, a frown on his face. He leaned against the boat’s wooden rail and inhaled the moist sea air; a blessing after the dry, dusty stone of the Watch Towers. He had let Jerrol escape. Jerrol! The Lady’s Captain. Who would have believed it?

  His brothers were not going to be amused when he finally arrived. He idly wondered where Var’geris was as he stared out across the sea. Var’geris had not been at the meeting point, and they had set sail without him. Ain’uncer was already upset with him for detouring into Terolia to find out what Jerrol had been up to. He should have known better, but to have discovered what Jerrol was doing in Terolia might have mitigated the disastrous news he was bringing home to his brother Ascendants.

  Well, he had a Sentinal to tell him everything now. The Sentinal would be a mine of useful information, if only they could get it out of him. Torsion flexed his bruised hands; his knuckles were raw and sore. Shrugging his shoulders, he tried to ease the tension. He admitted to himself that he had got a little carried away, taking his frustration out on the man who had spoiled their plans. It was fortunate that the sailors had interfered, preventing him from pulverizing that stubborn Sentinal; otherwise, he would have lost the Sentinal as well as Jerrol.

  He scowled as he thought of Jerrol again; everything was always so easy for him. Everyone liked him, including Taelia. He would not give up on her. She was his. She would see sense in the end.

  Torsion tried to relax. He had tensed up again and his back ached, along with his hands. He closed his eyes and listened to the seagulls wheeling overhead, letting the scent of the sea erase the memories of the Watch Towers.

  A seaman hovered behind him and he stiffened, pushing himself off the railing.

  “Uh, Mr. Tor’asion, sir. The Captain says we’ll be docking in one hour, sir. And, uh, your prisoner is conscious.” Duty done; the seaman retreated.

  Tor’asion straightened, his shoulders squaring, his face firming. The hot anger transformed into cold calculation. He blamed Ain’uncer. He shouldn’t have left Jerrol. Instead, that Sentinal, Birlerion, had drawn them both in and it had taken both of them to overpower him and carry him away, and in so doing, they had let Jerrol escape. He should have let Ain’uncer die, he thought. He flexed his fist again. Well, the Sentinal would pay.

  It was soothing to hear his real name: Tor’asion. It was like relaxing into a familiar set of clothes that fit for once. He had been hiding beneath Torsion for too many years. He needed to survive just a little bit longer. He needed to come up with a good story to explain what had happened; one that would gain him sympathy.

  And then there was the Veil. It was well and truly sealed now. They hadn’t been able to find any points of weakness. All those centuries of gradually breaching it, wasted. They had charged a few crystals but nowhere near enough.

  He thought about the Grand Duke of Elothia, his face grim. Their final chance. Sul’enne had been preparing him. Maybe this was the plan they should have followed first. Smash Vespiri with force instead of allowing them to awaken to the threat.

  They had lost the element of surprise, but Iss’aren had been persuasive. A peaceful coup would reap them many more rewards than violence. Well, the ex-chancellor would have as much to explain as he would. Iss’aren had failed at ‘peaceful’; let’s see what they could do with violence. Tor’asion clenched his fist and slammed it against the rail. They would prevail.

  THE END

  The adventure continues in Book Three:

  Sentinals Justice. Available Autumn 2021.

  Sign up to my newsletter via: linktr.ee/helengarraway to find out first when it is available and to download a free novella in the same world. Book 0.5: Sentinals Stirring

  If you have a moment and you enjoyed reading Sentinals Rising, then please do leave a review and tell other fantasy readers what you enjoyed.

  Reviews are so important to independent authors to drive visibility and to help us to continue publishing our books.

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  Thank you for your support.

  Helen Garraway

  March 2021r />
  Other books in the series:

  Novella #o.5 Sentinals Stirring

  Book One: Sentinals Awaken

  Book Two: Sentinals Rising

  Book Three: Sentinals Justice (Autumn 2021)

  Acknowledgments

  I am so excited to have finished my second novel in the Sentinal series. An accomplishment I wouldn’t have achieved without the support of some very special people.

  First, my thanks go to my wonderful daughter, Jennifer, who has supported all my dreams to write and publish my novels. This one is for you!

  My very good friend, Kaye Adams, who is my sounding board, and keeps me sane when I go off track.

  Michael Strick, my ever faithful beta reader and Jill Wells who helped hunt down those darned typos. If you find any lurking, the fault is mine.

  Jeff Brown of Jeff Brown Graphics (jeffbrowngraphics.com) designed my gorgeous cover and Tom from Fictive Designs (https://fictive-designs.com/maps) drew the wonderful map of Terolia.

  And finally, thank you to my street team; Sloane, Eva, David, Rosalyn, Andrew, Jami, Carmen, Patty and Stephanie. Thank you for all your support!

  This book wouldn’t be the amazing story it is without you. If you would like a taster of what is coming in Book 3 then keep reading…

  Also By Helen Garraway

  Sentinals Awaken

  Sentinals Rising

  Sentinals Justice (To BePublished) Fall 2021

  Sample chapters of Book 3 | Sentinals Justice:

  Chapter 1 Somewhere in Elothia

  Tor’asion knelt before the simple altar; the rising star of the Ascendants resplendent in red and gold before him. His dark head was bowed; his black eyes closed. They were so close. It was their destiny; it was meant to be. He had searched and searched the archives, the catacombs, the Watch Towers. He had spent his life searching as had his father and his father before him.