Sentinals Justice: Book Three of the Sentinal Series

by Helen Garraway

  The Veil throbbed. The insidious threads reached deep and pulled Jerrol apart as the crystal in his blood sealed the exposed ends for all time. His mind expanded as he encapsulated the world of Remargaren, and he sighed as he merged with the protection that would keep them safe forever.

  The air sparkled as the sky cleared. The stormy clouds melted away and the brilliant blue sky arced overhead. The barrier shimmered and disappeared with a slight popping sound, leaving tiny bubbles floating in the air, glistening with the colours of the rainbow as they descended.

  The plateau stood empty and silent.

  53

  Plateau of Oprimere

  King Benedict drew a shaky breath and looked down across the open plain towards the plateau of Oprimere. He had forced Fonorion to bring him through the waystone to the ridge north of Stoneford when news of the barrier arrived. He had watched from the ridge in horror as the action unfolded on the plateau below them. Some of the men around him were weeping, overwhelmed at the sight of the Lady. Others stood in shock, horrified at the loss of their captain and commander.

  He gazed across the land barrier at the men gathering at the foot of the plateau, knowing that the young man with the bright blonde hair was the grand duke. Randolf slowly raised a hand in acknowledgement, and then they both turned away, surrounded by their retainers, as they attempted to assimilate what had just happened.

  The sky was a blaze of orange and crimson and the Lady’s moon was just visible as she began her ascent when six tall sentinal trees shimmered into view on the plateau. Their silvery trunks were burnished blood-red by the dying rays of the golden sun and the canopies were haloed by an iridescent glow that only touched the trees. They stood silent, still, searching.

  Taelia faced the trees, staring across the plateau as if she could see them. The air was oppressive, the anguish heavy. The trees stood clear in her mind’s eye, but none of them waited for Jerrol. She shuddered as the names of the fallen Sentinals chimed through her body. Her breath caught in her throat, no, it wasn’t true. “Taurillion!” she shouted as she shuffled back to the healer’s tent, desperately calling Ari.

  Stoneford Keep, Vespiri

  “Find out which six Sentinals fell, now!” King Benedict ordered as he sat in Lord Jason’s study. His fearful gaze touched on Fonorion who stood at his shoulder as always. Niallerion stood by the door, his face pale and anguished. Both the Stoneford Sentinals were missing, and he caught his breath as he saw Jason’s strained face, somewhat diminished without his familiar Sentinals standing behind him. “What news from Deepwater?” he asked slowly, not wanting to acknowledge the possibility.

  Niallerion shook his head. “There is much confusion, not all Sentinals have been found. Tagerill is missing, as is Frenerion. The Captain has not been seen since …” his voice trailed off. He struggled on. “Chryllion and Saerille have yet to return. Birlerion fell, but the Elothians have him. We haven’t heard if he survived. There are reports that more Sentinals were seen to fall. We don’t know who or where they are.”

  “But you know when one of you falls, so surely you know who they are?”

  Niallerion shook his head. “There are too many. It is not clear.”

  “Go, find out,” the king instructed as another messenger entered the study, his hands full of missives.

  Niallerion rushed to the waystone and stepped into Oprimere. He faltered as the trees came into view, his chest tight as he slowly circled the plateau. The trees would not have traveled if their Sentinal had not fallen. They had come in search of their companions. He took a deep breath and climbed the mound, and, stopping before the first tree, he hesitantly extended a hand.

  Anguish tore through him. “Birlerion,” he cried as he collapsed to his knees hugging the tree. “No, Lady please, not Birlerion.” He rested his forehead against the trunk. He couldn’t believe Birlerion was one of the fallen. That he would never see his friend’s face again.

  Inhaling deep, he tried to control the tears that blurred his vision. Throat tight, he forced himself to rise. Blindly, he staggered to the next tree. Ari popped into view above the trees, shrieking at the top of his voice, and Birlerion’s tree shuddered violently before fading from view. Ari disappeared in its wake.

  Niallerion swayed, his eyes widening as the ramification of Birlerion’s tree leaving hit him. Was there a chance? Could Birlerion still be alive? Ari had come to get Birlerion’s tree. He grasped at the possibility like a drowning man grabbing a life belt. His hand descended on the trunk and Lorillion’s name struck him deep inside. He moaned as he gripped the tree, his body shaking uncontrollably as he grieved for the man who had never truly been awoken. He swallowed, trying not to heave. His stomach roiled as he tried to control his grief. The ground trembled as a final tree appeared in the gap left by Birlerion’s tree, completing the circle, and Niallerion knew it was Serillion’s, come to join his grieving brethren.

  “Birlerion,” he muttered. Hanging on to an impossible hope, he pushed himself away from Lorillion’s tree. He slid down the hill and staggered towards the Elothian encampment, tears streaming down his face as he searched.

  His way was barred by Landis, who displayed an impressive array of bruising down the side of his face.

  “Where is Birlerion?” Niallerion demanded.

  Landis winced and placed his hands on Niallerion’s chest.

  “You need to prepare yourself,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “The healer says there is no hope.”

  Niallerion brushed passed him and paused in the entrance of a large tent, his thin face grey and pinched as he took in the scene. Birlerion lay on a table, unnaturally pale and still. His chest was exposed, revealing horrific burns. The remains of his clothes were still smoking on the floor. Marianille and Taelia were arguing furiously with a healer, Taelia’s arms flying in the air with agitation.

  “He needs his tree.” Niallerion’s voice cut through the tent. “Now,” he said as he strode up to Birlerion’s body.

  The healer barred his way. “It’s too late. He’s gone. No one could survive the blast he received. His chest is crushed; his lungs collapsed. He cannot breathe.”

  “We are not losing one more Sentinal,” Niallerion hissed, forcibly moving the healer, who cringed away from the expression on the Sentinal’s face.

  “Niallerion?” Marianille turned toward him. Her silver eyes filled her face. “I need your help. I can’t carry him on my own.”

  Niallerion scooped Birlerion up in his arms. He staggered under his weight, but he steadied and marched out of the tent, his silver eyes blazing. The aroma of scorched skin and roses tickled his nose as he strode through a crowd of milling soldiers, who parted before him. Marianille hurried beside him. Niallerion raised his head, his senses questing.

  “This way,” Taurillion stood before him. “His sentinal is this way. Let me take him.”

  “I’m fine.” Niallerion tightened his grip and Taurillion gave way. He led the way to the newly seated sentinal just behind the encampment and Niallerion shimmered into the tree without stopping, closely followed by Marianille. They didn’t come back out, and Taurillion took up a sentry position, waiting, staring unseeingly before him.

  Taelia rested a soft hand on his arm as she stopped beside him. “Taurillion, I am so sorry.”

  Taurillion slowly stiffened as he stared at her, realising she didn’t refer to Birlerion. “No, I don’t believe it.”

  “Her tree is waiting at the plateau.”

  “No, it can’t be.” He strode off into the deepening gloom, leaving Taelia alone outside the sentinal.

  She took a deep breath and hesitantly reached for the trunk. It warmed briefly beneath her touch. “Marianille?” she called. She knew the pain the Sentinals were suffering. She felt it herself. Her only consolation was that there was no tree waiting for her husband. Then again, he didn’t have a tree.

  Healer’s tent, Oprimere Plateau, Elothia

  Serenion woke up in tears. He was laying on
the floor of a tent full of injured soldiers. Generille hovered over him and gathered him in her arms as he shuddered. “Hush, dear boy. It wasn’t your fault. He pushed us all away. Lad, you didn’t want to be going where he was.”

  Serenion stiffened in her arms. “Where’s Yas?” His voice was muffled, and Generille glanced at her husband.

  Royerion reluctantly shook his head, and Generille’s eyes filled with tears. Her grip tightened on Serenion, and he knew. He reared out of her arms, overwhelmed with shock and loss. He blundered out of the Elothian tent and stopped in horror at the sight of the glowing sentinal trees crowning the Oprimere plateau, as it was being called. Six trees, six Sentinals. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Taurillion’s tall form striding through the tents and past the flickering torches, and he hurried to catch up with him. He seemed the last link to normality, to the past.

  “Taurillion.” Serenion grasped his sleeve, and Taurillion’s severe face softened at the sight of the distressed boy. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

  “Thank the Lady, you are alright,” he breathed, giving the boy a slight hug.

  “What happened?”

  “The Captain gave his life to remove the threat and seal the Veil, and some of our friends did too.” He squeezed Serenion’s shoulder again and turned back to the trees. “Can you give me a moment?” he said, his voice faltering as he stared ahead.

  “Of course. I’ll be with the grand duke.” Serenion turned away. He didn’t think Taurillion had heard him. When he looked back, Taurillion was crouched beside a tree, his shoulders bowed in grief.

  Serenion entered the command tent and found the grand duke surrounded by people and looking harassed. He positioned himself behind the grand duke’s shoulder, and Randolf looked up in surprise. At the sight of his face, he cleared the room and peace descended for a moment.

  “Tell me.”

  “Yaserille’s sentinal is on the plateau,” Serenion said simply, and Randolf closed his eyes. Guin’yyfer would be inconsolable.

  “And Taurillion?”

  “He went to the plateau.”

  “And you?”

  “What about me, Your Grace?”

  “You were knocked unconscious. You’re supposed to be in the infirmary.”

  “There are others who have a greater need for healers than me.”

  Randolf nodded, watching him. The boy’s eyes looked wild, though he was manfully trying to control his grief. Maybe keeping him busy was best. “Very well, keep me informed.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “We recovered another Sentinal. Chryllion, I believe. Niallerion came searching for Birlerion and is around somewhere with Taelia and Marianille. I hear Birlerion’s condition is not good, and there has been no word of Commander Haven.”

  “I’ll stay with you until Taurillion returns. Where is Lady Guin’yyfer, Your Grace?”

  “Helping the healers; they are overwhelmed.”

  Serenion stepped to the flap of the tent. “Generille?”

  Two Sentinals stepped forward out of the mass of people waiting outside, and Serenion introduced them to the grand duke. “Royerion and Generille of East Watch, Your Grace. May I suggest Generille accompanies Lady Guin’yyfer for now? And Royerion guards your door. They don’t all need to be in here at the same time.”

  Randolf’s lips twitched, but he said: “East Watch? How came you to be here?”

  “The Captain called, and we came; he needed help with the Veil,” Royerion’s calm voice replied.

  “Do you know what happened to him?”

  Generille sighed. “He pushed us away, trying to protect everyone except himself. We need to teach him better.”

  “He lives, then?” the duke asked, the strain on his face easing.

  “He lives until we know otherwise. And at the moment, he is only missing,” Generille said firmly.

  “Very well, then, Sentinal Generille. I would appreciate it very much if you would accompany Lady Guin’yyfer and ensure she comes to no harm. Serenion, I think you are right; a guard on the door seems most sensible if we are to have any peace to figure out how we clear this mess up. If either Captain Landis or Captain Owen arrive, show them in immediately.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Royerion bowed and escorted Generille out of the tent. He took up the position outside the flap. His silver eyes glinted at his wife as she smiled sadly and patted his face before heading off towards the infirmary.

  Generille bowed over in grief. She honestly hadn’t expected to find her friend in the rows of dead being prepared for burial, but here he was, his body laid out, long and lifeless, his wounds hidden beneath the canvas shroud in which he was wrapped. She laid a gentle finger on his face and breathed his name. “Adilion.”

  For such vitality to be laying so still, it was unnatural, and the tears fell. She looked up as someone stopped behind her. She heard a soft curse as the man crouched beside her. “Do you need help? To get him to his tree.”

  Generille looked at the wiry man dressed in a blue and red uniform and blinked away her tears. “L-Landis?”

  Landis nodded. “He shouldn’t be here. Taurillion said his tree is on the plateau. We’ve been searching for him.”

  Deepwater Watch, Vespiri

  Alyssa shoved her hair out of her face and looked up into the night sky. The Lady’s waxing moon lit the landscape with her brilliant silver light; it seemed blindingly bright, throwing their two sentinal trees into stark relief. Her eyes teared up as she remembered her husband returning with two Sentinals laid out among the many injured soldiers.

  Heart constricting, she remembered the sight of Tagerill lying next to a woman they named Yaserille. She had thought he was dead, too; he had been so still and pale. Her mother, Miranda, Tagerill’s wife, had fainted on the steps before Jennery had a chance to tell her he was still alive, just.

  He was lying within his sentinal now. She thanked the Lady that Denirion had been with them. They would not have been able to get him into his sentinal so fast otherwise, and she knew deep down that Tagerill would not have survived if there had been any delay.

  One piece of good news was that Frenerion had appeared out of the gloom, dazed but whole. Denirion had escorted him back to Greenswatch with orders to stay in his tree until told otherwise.

  Alyssa took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her stomach cramped as she considered the number of losses and those still missing. Their infirmary was overflowing though her husband said they were better off than he had expected. She shuddered at the thought that he had expected their losses to be much worse.

  They had no news from Stoneford; no word from Commander Haven. Alyssa knew her husband was frantic. She also knew conditions had been worse at Stoneford. There could be little good news from there. Jennery had sent Denirion through the waystone desperate to know what had happened. Denirion had yet to return.

  The sudden appearance of the barrier had to mean that Jerrol had been involved. She recognised the Lady’s work, and she blessed him fervently for trying to limit their losses. The cessation of all fighting even after the barrier had disappeared and the skies had cleared, indicated that whatever was wrong had been resolved. She prayed to the Lady for good news, and she prayed for Jerrol and Taelia, as well as the king and those at Stoneford.

  The tears slowly dripped down her cheeks as a sense of foreboding crept over her. They had lost a Sentinal, and a second hung by a thread. How many more were they going to have to say goodbye to?

  She looked up as Denirion slowly walked up the steps to the house, his shoulders stiff as if he were forcing himself to remain upright, and she turned towards him in despair. Jennery came clattering down the steps, his face taut in the moonlight.

  “Tell me,” he said, his voice rough.

  “In total; five Sentinals dead, two critical including Tagerill, and one missing,” Denirion said, staring blindly at them. “Lord Jason lost over half his men. Many are still missing. His Watch is ...” Denirion’s voice failed him. “The grand duke
remains encamped at the battlefield of Oprimere. His losses are just as severe.”

  “Who did Jason lose?” Jennery asked, his voice painfully controlled.

  Denirion closed his eyes. “Chryllion and Saerille.”

  Jennery swallowed, his face paling alarmingly. “Both of them? How is Jason?” He knew how he would feel if he lost Tagerill and Denirion.

  “Coping. The king remains at Stoneford, as does Fonorion. King Benedict plans to meet with Grand Duke Randolf tomorrow. The threat from the Ascendants is no more. The Veil is sealed.”

  “Who else did we lose?”

  “Adilion, Yaserille and Lorillion.”

  “Commander Haven?”

  “Missing. He’s not been seen since…” Denirion failed to get the words out, and Jennery gripped his shoulder in support. “Lady Leyandrii appeared on the plateau. She and the Captain attacked the Ascendants, and swept them away. The Veil is sealed and the Ascendants are no more, but the Captain hasn’t returned.”

  Jennery forced the words out. “Anyone else?”

  “Birlerion,” Denirion replied as he exhaled. “Apparently, he caused the distraction, enough for the Captain to attack, but he took the full brunt of the Ascendant lord’s power. The healer pronounced him dead, but his sentinal says otherwise.”

  Alyssa’s tears overflowed. “Lea.” She reached for her husband, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “I know, sweetheart, I know.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Wait. All we can do is wait.”

  “What about Taelia?”

  Jennery looked at Denirion. “Where is Taelia?”

  “She is with the grand duke. Marianille is with her. They watch over Birlerion.” Denirion paused. “She waits for news of the Captain, but it doesn’t look hopeful.”