Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  He grabbed a tray and selected a spoon and a bowl of soup. Eyeing the bread thoughtfully he selected a couple of pieces, and balancing the tray, he made his way to the officer’s table. He slid his tray onto the table and went back and helped himself to a mug of tea and returned to his seat.

  Deron was being joshed by his mates, colour stained his cheeks as he accepted their rough offers of help more gracefully than he would have accepted Jerrol’s. Jerrol drank his soup and gnawed his bread, resting his right hand in his lap under the table.

  “Would you like some company?” Healer Francis asked as he slid his tray onto the table.

  “Please.” Jerrol gestured to the seat with his bread.

  “I hope you are eating more than a bowl of soup,” Healer Francis said as he made himself more comfortable.

  “I was debating about what to have. Everything needs cutting up,” Jerrol admitted. “I’ll be glad when this is off.” He waved his bandaged hand under the healer’s nose.

  The healer nodded. “Come see me this afternoon, and we’ll take a look. Well done with Deron by the way, just what he needed, a purpose.”

  Jerrol grinned. “It was pure selfishness. I need someone to write for me. No one can read my scrawl.” He stood and returned to the serving line, selecting a second course. He plumped for the chicken, chops being beyond him, and balancing the tray he returned to his table.

  “Chop the meat up for me, would you?” he asked Francis, who wordlessly leant over and cut everything up for him.

  “Thanks,” Jerrol murmured as he stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork.

  Deron watched the Commander from his seat in the hall. Watched him struggling with his tray, accepting help, yet it didn’t diminish his authority. Every man in the room was aware that the Commander of the King’s Justice was in the room; his difficulties made him more human. It didn’t lessen him or the awe the men felt. He looked around his friends and relaxed. He began eating the food one of his mates had collected for him.

  When Deron stomped his way back to his desk, the commander was deep in conversation with Lieutenant-Commander Bryce, his deputy. They were arguing over a piece of paper on the desk between them. The stocky officer was well respected in the palace having stepped into the commander’s duties when the commander had been sent off on the mission to Terolia by the King. Bryce was a career soldier originating in Stoneford Watch and had relocated to Vespers at the commander’s request.

  Deron discreetly observed them. Compared to Bryce, the commander looked washed out. Lines of strain were apparent on his face and he still looked thin. His cheekbones were prominent; his silver eyes sunken.

  Bryce had obviously come to a similar concusion as Deron heard him say, “Jerrol, don’t overdo it. You can’t solve all our problems in one day.”

  “I know, there is just so much that needs to be done.”

  “And we’ll get it done between us, but not if you make yourself ill.”

  “Don’t. I already have Francis breathing down my neck. I know what I’m capable of.”

  “That’s what I said, but now I know better. Fortunately, I have Olivia to keep me sensible, but what about you Jerrol. Where’s Taelia? You need her beside you.”

  “I know, but she is busy in the Chapterhouse. I’ll see her don’t worry.”

  Bryce stood. “Make sure you do. You have to make time for yourself in all of this chaos.”

  Deron concentrated on his work and began copying out the responses the commander had dictated. He would help alleviate the pressure on the commander in any way he could. Jenkins was soon running all over the palace and into the city of Old Vespers.

  Jerrol’s thoughts returned to Birlerion as Bryce left, a constant worry at the back of his mind. It had been three weeks since he had disappeared, taking the Ascendants with him. His actions were the only reason Jerrol was alive today. His mouth tightened at the thought of what he might be suffering, but without knowing where he was, there was little he could do.

  His ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of Adilion, one of the younger Sentinals Jerrol had awoken in Terolia‒though they were all over three thousand years old. Adilion had broken his collarbone as they had tried to help some enslaved Terolians escape a collapsing mine. He was reporting back for duty and eager to help. He looked fresh and healthy; his silver eyes bright in his deep brown face.

  Jerrol was glad of the interruption. “Before you join the roster, I need you to go to Mistra and warn Maraine and Kayerille about possible retaliations. I think they will be just a distraction to try and divide our forces, but we need to make sure they stay alert just in case.”

  Adilion stood, his blue-black curls bouncing. “Do you want me to stop off at Marchwood and check the nursery?”

  “No, don’t worry, I will be going there. You can travel with us as far as the border if you want; we’ll be leaving in the morning.” Jerrol watched the eager young Sentinal leave and turned his thoughts to the Watch Towers. Who should he send up there? He ran through the list of available Sentinals, there were so few. He called in Niallerion who was standing guard outside his office.

  “I need a Sentinal guard for the Watch Towers, do you think Darllion would go? Who would you recommend?” he asked, frowning over the map on his desk.

  “If Tianerille or Venterion are recovered; I would recommend them. Without Birlerion to advise us, Marianille ought to stay in Vespers. She was one of the ones closest to the Lady. She can advise the King.”

  Jerrol nodded in agreement. Marianille was the sister of three of his Sentinals; Tagerill, Versillion and Birlerion, and she was proving to be as astute and as skilled as her brothers were. She was brown haired like her mother, so Jerrol heard, elegant and poised, fitting into the King’s court with ease and as different to her brothers as she could be. She was tall and slender, and wielded the broadsword she strapped to her back as easily as the men. Her strength fluid and hidden.

  Jerrol has been surprised to find out she was older than Tagerill and Birlerion, and had graduated from the rangers two years before them. She was relentless in her belief that Birlerion still lived, and Jerrol clung to her conviction; her assurance a solace to the guilt he felt in leading him into a ambush. She was also the most vocal in the need to search for Birlerion, not that there was any resistance to the request, they just didn’t know where to search.