Sentinals Justice: Book Three of the Sentinal Series

by Helen Garraway

  Marianille looked down at Taelia’s hands. They were so small and delicate. They were like her mother’s, and just as strong. Taelia may be mourning the absence of her husband, but she was unwavering in her belief that he would return. She squeezed Taelia’s hand before releasing her and leaning back in her chair. “I was born in Greens,” she began slowly as the warmth of the fire caressed her face. Taelia smiled as if she could see her.

  “I was born in the month of Julu in the year 1100 in Greens. I had two older brothers and two younger brothers. So, I suppose, it’s not surprising that I turned out a bit of a tomboy. My mother thought she finally had a princess to dress, but it was not to be. I preferred fighting with my brothers, usually coming home covered in scrapes and mud.

  “I became a Sentinal in 1123 when the Lady called. I had been a ranger for two years. Tagerill and Birler had graduated the year before.” Her laugh was soft. “There were moments when we thought they wouldn’t make it, but Serill kept them on the straight and narrow.”

  “Serillion? I always thought Birlerion was the calming influence?”

  Marianille smiled. “Birler calmed Tagerill down, that is true, but Birler came from the streets. He had to fight his way up through the ranks the hard way. Many wanted him expelled due to his lack of family bloodlines. He wasn’t always calm; certainly not as self-contained as he is today. He was a joy to be with. He had a gift for life and embraced it.”

  “I think I saw a glimpse of it once,” Taelia said. “In Old Vespers, he introduced me to his sentinal. It was the first time I truly saw him relax; he was like a different person. I could hear the warmth in his voice, and he looked much younger; his sentinal had eased the strain of living in this new world.” She swallowed. “I didn’t realise how much it affected him until then. I was glad he had his sentinal to help.”

  “They are a gift from the Lady,” Marianille agreed. “You were honoured. We don’t tend to open our sentinals to others; they are part of us you see. What you see on the outside is very different from the inside.” She paused for a moment and then continued describing her brother. “I first met Birlerion when he came home from the academy with Tagerill. He was recuperating from an injury. My parents decided, that first time he came to stay, that he should be part of our family. It took them months to persuade him.”

  “Persuade him?” Taelia asked.

  “Yes, he thought he would only bring trouble to our family. He didn’t realise how much we loved him. We got there in the end, and we adopted him.” Marianille’s voice wavered. “My brother had a keen eye. Arrows were a natural progression from the slingshot, and he was deadly, I can tell you. He was rather undergrown, to begin with, and we all wondered what Tagerill saw in him. He had to build up strength to manage a broadsword. It didn’t come easily, but we all learnt not to underestimate him in the end.” She stared into the fire. “That’s what makes me believe he will return; he won’t give up on the Lady or the Captain.” Marianille heaved a deep sigh. “He travelled far and wide, across Terolia, even up here into the wastes of Elothia. I don’t know what he did here, but Lady Marguerite had to come and rescue him. He was searching for something for her, and I guess he found it, because they returned home after that, and not long after, Marguerite bonded with the Land.” She shook off whatever image she was seeing and smiled. “Tagerill now—you couldn’t keep him down for long. He was irrepressible.”

  “What was he like as a child?”

  “Tagerill?”

  Taelia nodded.

  “Much like he is now, only less disciplined. He always got us into trouble. He couldn’t resist a prank once he’d got it into his head, though he always owned up to it when it was discovered. At least he’s grown out of that, at last.

  “And Serillion, well.” Marianille sighed. “He was a bookworm at heart, quiet and studious, but he was always at their backs and invariably got dragged into trouble, too. I think he saw himself as the responsible one, trying to curtail Tagerill’s more outlandish ideas. It was always the three of them. She fell silent at the thought that they would never be together again. She wondered how Tagerill was coping with the loss of both his best friends.

  “You were at the palace with the Lady Leyandrii?”

  Marianille smiled. “Yes, towards the end. She was the most beautiful woman; not tall or imposing, but you couldn’t miss her. She was soft-spoken and youthful, yet wise beyond her years, and very determined. How she got all the palace staff out before the end, I’ll never know, but she did. They all left under protest, as I did, but only because she said that if we stayed, it would make it more difficult for her. I still can’t believe that she did it. She destroyed everything to save us.

  “You’re going to ask me what happened at the end, but I don’t remember. I was swept away into darkness, and I don’t remember anything until the Captain woke me. I think the only one who truly knows is Birlerion; he was with them at the end, but he won’t speak of it.”

  “What about Marguerite?” Taelia asked.

  Marianille’s voice lightened. “She was a free spirit, always disappearing. I’m not surprised she bonded with the land; she was always running free somewhere. Taurillion was the only one who could slow her down long enough for us to appreciate her. She was young, with long tresses of auburn hair and brilliant blue eyes, like yours, though hers were more the colour of the sky, while yours are more like the sea around Birtoli.”

  “The Lady had green eyes, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, emerald green. Guerlaire’s eyes changed to match hers over time. His were green in the end; he loved her so much.” Marianille paused, remembering.

  Taelia smiled. “I’m sure she knew,” she said. “Tell me about Guerlaire. Where did he come from?”

  “I think the story of Guerlaire is for another night. It’s late. You need to sleep.”

  Taelia scrunched up her face in protest, but rose all the same. She paused in the doorway and smiled at Marianille. “Thank you for sharing your story.”

  “Your turn tomorrow. You can tell me when you first met Jerrol,” Marianille teased and was relieved when a gentle blush touched Taelia’s cheeks.

  “I think I loved him from the moment I fell into his arms,” she said with a soft laugh. She displayed the silver hair clip still in her hand. “He gave me this. A gift. It reminds me of him. Exposed at all times it is not all that it seems. Concealed within it is a tool.” She eased it open and Marianille saw a serrated edge. Taelia smiled a gleam in her eyes. “He taught me to pick locks, cut ropes, ways to escape. Just like my husband, this clip has hidden depths.” She snapped it shut. “Tomorrow, then.”

  Marianille watched her turn away and close the bedroom door. She sighed as she returned to her post by the door.

  27

  Adeeron, Elothia

  One evening, when they were finally allowed to stay long enough at Adeeron to sleep in their beds, Finn was shocked to see an infantry troop return ragged and battered, hauling a line of even more ragtag prisoners behind them. Finn frowned as he watched, staring more intently as the prisoners filed passed. His stomach tightened as he recognised the uniform. What were Stoneford troops doing this far north? And how did he know them?

  He barked an order and a corporal trotted over and saluted. “Report,” Finn growled, his eyes like flint.

  The corporal gulped nervously, flicking a glance at the stern-faced lieutenant before him. He turned his gaze toward the men trudging by. “Sir, we engaged just north of Arla. We held the line, but they flanked us and took out the second unit, so we had to retrench. These were the only men we managed to cut off.”

  “What unit are they?”

  “Stoneford, sir, 2nd Unit, First Division.”

  Bryce’s old unit, Finn thought, and then, Who is Bryce?

  “Why do we have prisoners to feed?”

  “The Tasker wanted some labour, sir, for the mines.”

  “Well, you’d better patch them up if you expect them to work. They’ll be droppi
ng like flies the state they’re in.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Corporal replied, thankfully retreating and herding his prisoners before him.

  Finn watched, frowning as he considered various plans to rescue them. He shook the thought away as he strode to the officer’s mess. Why was he thinking of rescuing the enemy? He joined Owen at a table and accepted a mug of coffee. “Owen, how long have we been here?” he asked.

  Owen gazed at him, his blue eyes questioning. “Coming up for three months, why?”

  “I just saw a unit returning from a skirmish on the Vespiri borders. What do you make of these sporadic engagements? What is the point if we don’t advance? They don’t retreat, and we all end up in the same place.”

  “I think the general are just testing their defences. I expect we’ll hear of some major engagement soon.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Typical infantry manoeuvres; test and then strike.”

  “No.” Finn shook his head. “We have shown our hand. Why give them time to prepare when we know they outnumber us? And anyway, what is in Stoneford that would be of any use to us? Why risk the army over a non-strategic piece of land. Surely, Old Vespers should be the target, if anywhere?”

  “Let the generals worry about that; that’s what they are paid for,” Owen said. “I heard a rumour we’ll be shipping out soon.”

  “Do you think we’re ready to replace the first unit in Retarfu? They say the grand duke is picky with whom he allows to be his guards,” Finn asked, allowing the change of subject.

  Owen laughed. “He has no choice. You know we’re the only unit Adeeron has turned out that has any chance of pleasing the grand duke. You’re a natural. I wouldn’t be surprised if you make captain before we leave, or Birler, but he won’t be made an officer. You are the only one with the diplomatic skills to manage the grand duke; the rest of us are too heathen.”

  Finn flinched. Captain? He felt a thrill rush through his body. Had he been a captain before? He leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee, trying to hide his discomfort. “And you, surely?” He was surprised that Owen was still here. He had half expected him to desert at the first opportunity, back to his family in Tierne.

  “Nah, you have a way with the men; they respect you. They couldn’t give a toss about me.”

  “You mean you couldn’t give a toss; if you did, you would make a good captain.”

  Owen shrugged. “That’s alright. I’ll let you make all the decisions.”

  “When do we get leave? Aren’t we supposed to get a week’s respite before we are posted?”

  “Not us. We might not come back; we were forcibly conscripted, remember?”

  “Yet they’re going to trust us with the safety of the grand duke?”

  “I never said it made any sense. Anyway, where would you go? You still don’t remember anything, do you?”

  Finn sighed into his coffee mug. “No, nothing. I only think I must have been in the military. As you say, it all seems so natural. Yet no one knows me, or where I came from.”

  “Well, Lieutenant Finn, a blank page awaits you, and I look forward to finding out what you write on it,” Owen grinned.

  “Thanks so much,” Finn said wryly. “But what about your family? Didn’t you say you were from Tierne?”

  “They probably think I’m dead by now. No point disappointing them by turning up,” Owen said, staring into his coffee.

  Finn frowned at him. “It can’t be that bad. Why can’t you go home?”

  Shrugging Owen leaned back in chair. “You know, typical story. Youngest son, no one notices if you’re there or not, no one needs you.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “They couldn’t wait to send me away. Only m’sister got upset; the rest couldn’t wait to grab the sign on fee.” Owen scowled. “Money-grabbing penny-pinchers signed me up to an apprenticeship in the custom guards when I was fifteen. One less mouth to feed.”

  “You didn’t like the guards?”

  “That was so boring. More likely to freeze your balls off than meet a smuggler. Who’s going to smuggle ice for Lady’s sake? It will just melt.”

  Finn laughed. “Not unless you go a lot further south, then it would be worth something.”

  Owen huffed. “I’m worth more to them dead than alive. My father has been preparing my eldest brother to step into his shoes for years. He will lord it over those lands fine. Without me, my brothers will only have to split everything two ways instead of three, and I was never much of a farmer; never much of anything, really.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “And then my sister went off to get joined, but that went wrong. The atmosphere at home was pretty dire. No. No reason to go home.”

  Retarfu

  Niallerion rubbed his numb hands together and then tucked them under his armpits as he stamped his feet on the frozen ground. The cold was vicious, making his bones ache. He was about to give up his search of the market square when he felt the tingle of another Sentinal’s presence.

  At last. He scanned the milling crowd, and met a searing copper gaze. Taurillion! It really was Taurillion. He was bundled up in a fur cape, his head and ears muffled in a fur lined cap. He would never have recognised him without the warning sensation.

  Taurillion cut his way through the market, and Niallerion left the shelter of the doorway to meet him. He had stayed in one place too long and had stiffened in the freezing air. Shuffling across the icy cobble stones, he tried to ease his protesting muscles.

  Slipping on a patch of ice, he fell into the strong arms of the other Sentinal. Taurillion huffed, his breath a plume of steam, and after a searching inspection of Niallerion’s face, he hauled him into the relative warmth of a nearby inn.

  “You are frozen solid, you fool,” Taurillion muttered as he pushed Niallerion into a chair next to the fire. “Stay there,” he ordered and went to the bar. He came back with a fur rug which he tucked around Niallerion’s lap. “Your lips are blue. How long have you been standing out there?”

  “T-too long,” Niallerion stuttered as shivers began to shake him.

  Taurillion knelt in front of him and stripped off his gloves. He massaged Niallerion’s chill skin. “You should only wear fur-lined clothes; it helps trap the heat against your skin,” he said as he continued to massage some life back into Niallerion’s hands.

  “I’ve been s-searching for you. Why didn’t you keep in touch?”

  “Drink this.” Taurillion handed him a steaming mug and helped him hold it steady as he drank. Niallerion shuddered as the warmth slid down his throat. Taurillion had spiked it with a strong liquor that started a fire in his belly and as the heat spread he relaxed back in his chair. Observing him for a moment, Taurillion sighed and sat in the chair opposite, loosening his cloak.

  Niallerion inspected him in silence. Taurillion's grave face was framed by dark blond hair, plaited in thin tails at the front, and pulled back into a loose queue and out of his copper eyes. His cheeks were currently flushed with the heat from the fire. His chin was camouflaged under the thick beard he wore, but Niallerion was sure he was just as stubborn as he used to be. “Where have you been?” he asked after a short pause. “I wanted to thank you for your help.”

  Taurillion shrugged, twisting his lips in distaste. “Realising the world is much changed and not necessarily for the better.”

  “Where’s Yaserille?”

  “Around.”

  “Taurillion, we need your help. Both the Captain and Birlerion are missing. We know Birlerion is in Adeeron, captured by the Ascendants. The Captain is missing, presumed dead.”

  Taurillion scowled. “He is not dead.”

  “They are not well. I can’t feel the Captain, and Birlerion is so muted I’m not sure if it really is him or not. I sometimes wonder if it’s my imagination.”

  “Birlerion could fall into a manure heap and turn up smelling of Leyandrii’s roses,” Taurillion growled.

  Niallerion scowled. “Not this time,�
� he said, his face strained. “It’s been months.”

  “Why are you still here, then?”

  “Taelia, uh, Scholar Haven, insists the Captain will return. We’re waiting for him.”

  “To do what?” Taurillion asked, his copper eyes glittering in the candlelight.

  “To save the grand duke and Elothia from the Ascendants.”

  Taurillion snorted. “No change there, then.”

  “Where is Marguerite, Taurillion? We need her help.”

  Taurillion stiffened, his face losing all expression. “She’s not here.”

  “She must be. Marguerite is the Land; where else would she go?”

  Shrugging, Taurillion’s cold gaze flicked around the room. “She abandoned us, abandoned me. She’s not here.”

  “She wouldn’t. You know better than that. Marianille is here with me, guarding the scholar. The Elothians are preparing to attack Vespiri. They want to destroy the Veil. They are after the Captain and the Watch Towers.”

  Taurillion quirked an eyebrow. “Why? They already have Birlerion.”

  Niallerion froze. Birlerion? He knew Birlerion was different, that Leyandrii had depended on him, but an equal to the Captain? “What can Birlerion do?” he asked, his voice hushed.

  “What can’t he do?” Taurillion asked, his expression bland.

  “They don’t know what they have,” Niallerion whispered, his gaze darting around the tavern as his memories of Birlerion, always in the midst of trouble flitted through his mind. His busy mind catalogued events, parsing the details he had accepted without question, because Leyandrii had managed it so.

  “Are you sure about that?” Taurillion asked. “Their posturing could all be camouflage. If they’ve had him for months, they would have broken him by now. We can’t trust him even if he does return.”

  “No,” Niallerion shook his head. “No.” His voice strengthened. “They got nothing from Birlerion. I heard them talking. They don’t know who he is.” He paused, and stared at Taurillion. “Who is he?”