Sentinals Justice: Book Three of the Sentinal Series

by Helen Garraway

  “We stand here, in the presence of the Lady, to join these two people together as one.” Roberion began, pausing as the waters around the ship began to glow. The sailors peered over the side and exchanged nervous glances before staring up at the moon, which was pulsing brightly.

  Jerrol smiled at Taelia. “The Lady watches.”

  “As the line protects,” Taelia replied, completing the age-old catechism.

  A soft silvery glow surrounded Jerrol and Taelia, and Roberion knew they didn’t need his words. Raising his arms, he intoned: “Do you, Jerrol, take Taelia to be joined as one in the eyes of the Lady?”

  “I do,” Jerrol replied, gazing into Taelia’s turquoise eyes. Her cold fingers shook in his.

  “Do you, Taelia, take Jerrol to be joined as one in the eyes of the Lady?”

  “Oh, I do,” Taelia replied vehemently, staring at Jerrol as if she could see him.

  Roberion almost laughed. “In the name of the Lady, Land, and Liege, may these two be joined, forever as one,” he declared, a smile spreading over his face.

  The silvery green glow brightened around Jerrol and Taelia as Jerrol dipped his head and they kissed. The sailors all whooped in celebration as Roberion grinned at Marianille and Niallerion, wiping away a surreptitious tear.

  Taelia came up for air, laughing as Niallerion and Marianille crowded around them in congratulation, admiring her silver robes which flowed around her. The little Arifels, Ari and Lin, popped into view, chittering in the air above them, their delicate wings flared and glittering in the moonlight. Sailors stared with expressions of awe tinged with a little fear at the spectacle. They knew their captain was different, he was a Sentinal after all, but to see a mythical creature hovering in the air above them emphasised how different. A few fell to their knees praying to the Lady, others gasped as the Arifels descended to perch on Jerrol and Taelia’s offered hands.

  Raising a toast, Roberion allowed one drink apiece, strictly abiding by the rules of the ship. Who knew when the wind would fill their sails? Once the ceremony was over, the sailors snuffed out the candles, had one final glance at the magical creatures and returned to duty. The Lady’s Miracle glowed in the silvery moonlight, mysterious and serene, surrounded by still waters.

  A little later, Jerrol and Taelia cuddled under a blanket, up on the poop deck. A brilliant moon and a spray of sparkling shooting stars lit up the sky in celebration. Jerrol described the view as eloquently as he could. “I think the Lady approves,” he said, breathing in Taelia’s sweet scent.

  “Do you remember when we first met?” Taelia asked, her voice soft.

  Jerrol laughed. “How could I ever forget? You dropped from the sky like a Lady’s blessing.”

  “That’s not what you said at the time.”

  “Well, you were a bit heavier than I expected, and I was only a scrawny lad at the time.”

  “But you caught me, and you never let go.”

  “Never,” Jerrol whispered, hugging her tight.

  “I wish I could see you just once.”

  Everything around them stilled for a moment, and then Jerrol stiffened as a great pressure constricted his head and then suddenly released him and all around Jerrol went dark. He heard Taelia gasp and he froze as his sight left him. Taelia twisted in his arms as she frantically looked around her before she stilled in turn.

  “Oh.” Her voice wavered.

  “I love you,” Jerrol said, trying to put all his love for her into his expression. As he bent to kiss her, he felt the pressure as his sight returned and knew she could no longer see. He hoped she had seen enough.

  He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Come,” he said, helping her stand. The blanket falling onto the deck. His hand trembled in hers, and she gave him a small smile as she followed him down the stairs. The sailors politely looked elsewhere as the newly joined couple made their way to their cabin.

  Jerrol stood in the centre of the cabin and held out his hand. He still couldn’t believe he was joined heart and soul to this beautiful woman. Taelia unerringly gripped his hand as she stepped into his embrace. Sliding her hand up his chest and around his neck, she pulled his head down, and their lips met. The kiss deepened and became more urgent, the heat between their bodies rising. He began undoing the tiny buttons of her gown, her fingers reciprocating as she felt for his. He shrugged out of his jacket; he had fewer buttons. His shoes followed, as did hers.

  She smiled against his lips as her fingers slid up his body and she moved on to the next set of buttons. The heat of his skin beneath the fine material of his shirt tempted her closer, and she stroked his skin as his shirt parted and her lips found his chest. Soft fingers explored in wonder as her lips left a cool trail across his skin.

  Jerrol groaned, his skin sensitised to her touch. He shivered in response, yet the heat seemed to be collecting in his groin. He needed to touch her, yet he couldn’t get near enough.

  “How many buttons does this gown have?” he whispered, frustrated.

  “Silly.” Her breath tingled against his skin. “You don’t have to undo them all.” She wriggled, and the gown slithered to the floor, leaving her thin petticoat which slid smoothly up her skin and over her head in one smooth motion revealing the most wondrous sight his eyes had ever seen. His hands smoothed over her pink tipped breasts, revelling in the touch of satin smooth skin.

  “Ah,” she gasped as the sensations led to more exploration and burning hot lips left a trail of sultry kisses over her skin. Her fingers ventured hesitantly to his waist and struggled with his belt. His hands covered hers, the lack of fingers ignored as he helped ease the buckle off and then the remaining buttons. His trousers fell and he stepped out of them. Her hands fluttered over him as he pulled her close and their skin met along the length of their bodies. She felt him straining against her thigh, hot and pulsing.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered as he scooped her up and laid her on the bunk, kissing her face and neck as his hand drifted down her body.

  “It’s not fair, I can’t see you,” she growled huskily as her body shuddered in response to his every caress. She cupped him as he hovered over her.

  He groaned as she squeezed him gently. “You don’t need to see me,” he gasped, “you can feel all that needs to be felt.” Their bodies moved more urgently as the desire built. She gripped him tight, pushing up as he penetrated deeper. She gasped, and the world exploded as their bodies arched and melded together, Taelia drawing him in as far and deep as possible. She was never, ever letting him go.

  Taelia was laying on top of him, trying to pretend she would never move again, when he started laughing beneath her. “This must be the most perfect position ever,” he said, chuckling with delight as she frowned down at him. His fingers swirled her nipples.

  She wriggled, trying to keep him within her. “Stop laughing,” she grumbled as he slid out. He laughed even more as he drew her down and she swallowed his chuckles as their lazy kiss grew urgent again and their touch awoke each other’s bodies for much more urgent activity.

  During the night, unnoticed, the wind picked up and filled the sails, keeping the sailors busy. A blushing bride climbed back on deck with her husband the next morning. They climbed up to join Roberion, who smiled knowingly at Jerrol. Jerrol grinned and hugged his wife. Taelia lifted her face to him. “What?”

  “Roberion is throwing me knowing looks,” he murmured into her ear.

  Taelia blushed and laughed softly. “Good,” she said. “I hope you look very pleased with yourself.”

  “He does,” Roberion laughed, infected by their obvious happiness. “As do you, Mrs. Haven.”

  Jerrol laughed as he hugged her, watching the ocean, his hair ruffled by the breeze. He lifted his face and inhaled the fresh salty air and the never-ending view. He stored the memory; an amazing one to balance all the terrible ones he had been collecting lately.

  10

  Pollo, Elothia

  The Lady’s Miracle approached the port of Pollo e
arly the next morning. Jerrol and Taelia reluctantly left their shared cabin for the deck above after a second wonderful night of exploration and sheer bliss.

  Roberion’s men unloaded their horses and belongings and helpfully pointed out the custom’s hut at the end of the Jetty. Jerrol smiled his thanks and confirmed Roberion would return in a month to collect them.

  Leaving Roberion to unload his cargo, Jerrol took Taelia’s hand, and they walked down the swaying wooden planks. Taelia lurched as the swells unexpectedly made the jetty rise, and Jerrol slipped his arm around her waist, anchoring her safely to his hip. She smiled her thanks and his heart melted. He couldn’t resist kissing her. Taelia sparkled with happiness beside him.

  Marianille followed them with a grin on her face, and Niallerion staggered ashore behind her, glad to be off the ship. Raucous seagulls swooped expectantly, shrieking over their heads as they wheeled and dived on the sea breeze. Taelia laughed as Marianille described the seagulls, big enough to carry off a small child, according to her.

  Jerrol steered Taelia to a seat on a bollard on dry land. “Wait here a moment; the hut is so small we won’t all fit. The sea is behind you, so take care you don’t fall in.” Jerrol left her chatting with Marianille as he took their papers into the hut.

  Niallerion waited by the door, still swaying as he held the reins of their horses, and Zin’talia whisked her tail at Jerrol as he passed.

  “Dry land,” she murmured. “But does it have to be so cold?”

  Jerrol chuckled. “What? A mighty Darian, afraid of a little chill?”

  “I come from the desert. You know I prefer the heat!”

  “You’ll survive. We have to climb that hill. That should warm you up.” His gaze rose to the rising ranks of grey stone buildings that marched their way up the sides of the valley leading away from the port. He grimaced at the sight and entered the customs office, which was in a bare wooden shack only furnished with a wooden table and chair.

  A scrawny man in a cloth cap with a scarf tied around his neck sat at the table. His clothes hung off him as if he had recently lost a lot of weight. “Papers,” he said in a bored voice.

  Jerrol handed over their papers and waited.

  The man stilled as he read them. His eyes returned to the top of the page, and he read them again. He glanced up and met Jerrol’s amused eyes. He lurched to his feet. “Sir, my apologies. I wasn’t aware you were arriving today.”

  Jerrol smiled. “Well, as you can see, we have arrived.”

  “Your honour guard is not due here until tomorrow. May I suggest you await them at the Grand Duke Hotel? It’s up on the main street. The port would be honoured to host your stay. Let me show you the way,” he said, handing back the papers.

  “That won’t be necessary. We have our horses, we can make our own way. We just need assistance with our baggage.”

  “Of course, I will see to it. But you must wait for the guard. The grand duke expects to greet you in Retarfu personally.” The man puffed out his chest as if it was his own doing.

  “Very well,” Jerrol said, trying to conceal his annoyance. Benedict must have set expectations. Sighing under his breath, he backed out of the hut, folding his papers over as the port master edged past him.

  The port master hurried up the road, gesticulating urgently. Jerrol watched him with a slight frown, before walking over to Taelia. “It seems we are to be feted. Our arrival is unexpected. The king’s emissaries are to be escorted to Retarfu tomorrow by the Duke’s own guards, and we are offered rooms at the Grand Duke Hotel for tonight.

  “I suggest we start as we mean to go on, Scholar Haven. We could treat this as part of our joining celebration. A night in a distinguished hotel. Marianille will attend you, responsible for your comfort and safety. Niallerion is my man, and me, I’ll just tag along as the king’s representative.” He smiled, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

  Taelia laughed. “I am happy to celebrate at the king’s expense. I expect the king’s representative to be very ingenious, if discreet,” she said, ignoring Marianille’s snort of laughter.

  “In that case my lady, may I escort you to the hotel?” Jerrol asked with a flourish, helping her up from the bollard. Marianille fell behind with Niallerion, leading her own horse and Zin’talia.

  They walked up the main street, allowing the port master time to reach the hotel before them. Voice low, Jerrol described to Taelia where they were. “Looks like the buildings along the wharves are all warehouses. They back onto what I can only guess is where the wharf rats live; an area I think we should avoid it if at all possible.”

  The smell wafting from the buildings to Taelia’s left was of decaying dead things, the stench of stale beer, and rotting seaweed, and Taelia held her handkerchief to her nose; a pungent combination they were glad to leave behind as they climbed the slowly steepening incline.

  “I can see why they built the town up here and not down there,” Taelia said a little breathlessly as they reached the top. She breathed in the fresh sea breeze with relief. “I can hear a bell chiming. Is there a temple over there?” she asked, pointing to the north.

  Jerrol looked to where she pointed, listening intently; he couldn’t hear the bell, but he didn’t doubt her. “We can check at the hotel. I’m sure they will show us.”

  “Good. Where are we now?”

  “We’ve reached a crossroads. A narrow track leads to your temple to the north, the main road continues east, and more residential areas feed off to the south. There are a few boarded-up shops, and there’s a hardware store of some sort, but to be honest, I don’t think you’ll be doing much shopping here. It looks like this town has fallen on hard times,” Jerrol said, watching the way the people openly stared at them.

  Taelia frowned at him as she pushed her hair out of her face. “I thought this was one of the major trading ports; surely it should be vibrant and busy?”

  “Well, it’s not today. Let’s get out of the street. We’re causing some interest with the locals. The hotel is straight ahead of us.”

  Taelia nodded in quick agreement, and Jerrol led the way to a square three-storey building that took up two plots of land and extended out to the rear. It was clad in white-washed boards that had collected enough road grime and weathering to give it a grey tinge. They walked up the steps, which were made of grey wooden planks. Taelia clutched Jerrol’s arm tighter as the planks gave a little under them and they passed through the wooden door that was standing open into the dim interior of the Grand Duke Hotel. Niallerion and Marianille took their horses around the side of the timber-clad building and through the stone arch into the stable yard.

  “Commander Haven, welcome, sir. Scholar Taelia, welcome to the Grand Duke Hotel. My name is Thorsten. I am the manager here. We have prepared two rooms for you and a private parlour on the second floor, if that suits? Your companions can room over the stables.” The manager gabbled so fast, they barely made out the words.

  “Thank you, Thorsten,” Jerrol said, looking around the reception area. The walls were clad in a faded red paper and the floors were bare wooden boards, which once would have been polished to a high shine but were now dull, darkened with age and use. “Our baggage is still down on the docks if you could send someone to retrieve it.”

  Taelia’s nose twitched, sensitive to the dust swirling around them. She sneezed.

  “Of course, it would be our pleasure.” The manager snapped his fingers and a young boy sprang forward to take the saddlebag from Jerrol. “For your own safety, we advise you to stay within the hotel until your escort arrives. There has been some unrest in the port, a result of news of Vespirian attacks on the border. People are a little on edge and we wish to avoid any unnecessary incidents.”

  “Incidents? I can assure you we are very well-behaved Vespirians. We will not cause any incidents,” Jerrol replied.

  The hotel manager swept his hand towards the young boy holding Jerrol’s saddlebag. He was dressed in a rather grubby, blue uniform. “Cars
ten will show you to your rooms.” He glared at the boy, who bobbed his head and led the way to the stairs.

  Taelia clucked as Jerrol tucked her hand in his arm, and she leaned into him. “Well, he is very efficient. He couldn’t get rid of us fast enough. I must admit I have not had much experience of hotels, but is that a normal greeting? Do they not like guests lingering in the foyer?” she asked.

  “Seems not,” Jerrol replied as they followed the young boy. “Carsten, do you have many guests staying here at the moment?”

  The boy stared up at him, his eyes wide. “People come in on ships,” he said, eager to get them to their rooms. He hurried up the stairs, hopping from one foot to the other as he waited for them at the top. “Your rooms, sir, this is a suite with two bedchambers as requested and the parlour is between.” He opened the door to the parlour and ushered them in. He did his funny bob again, and he was gone before Jerrol could thank him.

  “Well, something’s not right here,” Jerrol murmured as he released Taelia’s arm. He checked the bedchambers, pausing at the side of the window to ease the net curtain aside. It smelt musty. The grimy window looked over the back of the hotel. Niallerion was talking to someone just inside the barn. He glanced up and casually scanned the windows, nodding as he caught sight of Jerrol.

  “These rooms haven’t been aired in months.” Taelia frowned. “I can smell the dust.”

  “I agree. I think all the furniture was covered. They’ve opened the rooms, especially for us. Be careful as you enter the bedchambers; the floors are wood and there is a rug in the centre just waiting to trip you up. Come have a seat. There are two armchairs and a settee. Which do you prefer?” Jerrol asked.