There was a muted whirr, and the man on the left cried out and dropped his knife. He hugged his hand to his chest as he stumbled away, squelching through the mud, and the other man scurried after him.
Jerrol scanned the undergrowth. His silent protector was still following him, then. At opportune moments help had appeared and as mysteriously disappeared before he had a chance to accost him. The man been following him since he left Old Vespers; who was it? “Show yourself. I know you’re there, so you may as well come out.”
He looked back at the man sinking into the gloopy mud. His sword followed the man’s slow descent as the glutinous muck restrained him better than any ropes could. A quick flick of the eyes confirmed that the others had turned tail and fled back into the dripping trees.
Glancing back at the bushes, Jerrol waited, and the lean, silver-eyed man from the temple gardens stepped out. His grey-green uniform was showing signs of wear and tear, but he looked nowhere near as disreputable as Jerrol.
“You’ve been following me for nearly a month. What do you want?”
The man’s alert eyes flitted around them before returning to the man in the mud. “I do the Lady’s bidding.”
“The Lady does not bid you kill innocent people.”
“No, only those trying to kill her Captain.”
“Do you think we can continue this conversation somewhere dry, and warmer?” the man stuck in the mud asked through chattering teeth.
Jerrol looked down and grinned. “Well, if you will consort with bandits, what do you expect?” He wiped his sword on his cloak and sheathed it, and then he began to chuckle. “Not the rendezvous I was expecting, Jennery,” he said as he reached out a hand to help pull his friend to his feet. The mud released Jennery with an enormous squelch; the iron grip inexorably pulled him up and out of the mucky suction. Jennery staggered as his legs took back his weight and trembled back to life. Looking down at his clothes, he scowled.
“Rendezvous,” he barked with laughter, “in this godforsaken place? You could drown in this, and no one would ever know!”
“There are worse fates, you know,” Jerrol replied as he moved to the firmer ground at the side of the road.
“Who is your friend? He won’t stick me with one of those arrows, will he?”
Jerrol flicked a glance at the man watching them. His bow was still strapped to his back. “Not unless you try to attack me again.”
“Jerrol!” Jennery followed him. “What happened? Why all the secrecy? And why are we flailing about in all this mud?”
Jerrol turned away. “Not here,” he said. “Let’s get out of the rain first. There’s a barn back aways down the track. It’s empty for now, and you can clean up.” He gestured to the silent bowman. “Will you join us?”
It wasn’t much of a barn, more a temporary shield from the rain. The screens were crude: a simple weave that wasn’t tight enough to prevent the water from dribbling through the many gaps and collecting on the mud floor. The damp smell of saturated soil and drenched foliage permeated the air.
Adjacent to the shelter was a lean-to providing just as primitive protection to a rug-covered horse tethered to the wall. Jennery drifted over to the unfamiliar mare, admiring her sleek lines visible even under the grubby rug. He gently rubbed her nose in greeting. “Where did he find you?” he murmured as she tossed her head. Jennery sighed as he glanced around. “A bit of luxury for a change. I’d forgotten what it was like.”
Jennery observed the bowman hovering by the door, half in and half out. He looked lean and dangerous, his face sharp and observant, his eyes never still, watching. He made Jennery feel on edge as if something terrible were about to happen.
A soft snort from behind him showed him how much sympathy he was going to get. “Stop complaining,” Jerrol said as he threw over a bundle of cloth. “Get changed. I want to know why you were with those bandits and attacking innocent strangers as well.” He shook his head. “I thought you would come in by the Port road.”
“I did come in by the Port Road, for what it’s worth,” Jennery grunted as he peeled off his sodden clothes. He used them to rub the mud off his muscular body, but they didn’t help much. He gave up, dropping them on the floor. “But the port was closed. The dockers were protesting about something or other, so I tagged on to a mule train.” He struggled to get a clean shirt on over damp skin, the cloth muffling his voice. “From the tone of your very short and uninformative message, I guessed you didn’t want to advertise our presence here?” He ended with an upturn of his voice. He looked across the shelter at Jerrol, who was kneeling over a small fire pit, trying to coax a spark out of his flint.
The man in the doorway gave a soft exclamation. He was watching Jerrol with a strange expression on his face, but Jennery didn’t think it was a conversation gambit, so he looked back at Jerrol, pausing as he watched the spark catch and the flames grow. He continued with his report. “The Chancellor posted guards at all the entry points; he controls the wharves and the headland. The King won’t get support from the dock hands when their livelihood is at risk.”
Jerrol sighed as he rested the tin pot over the fire. “I know,” he replied, glancing up. The flickering flames slanted a soft yellow light across his face, which was drawn and strained. The dark shadows under his eyes made him look a lot older than his twenty-two years, but his grey eyes were clear and sharp.
Jennery’s mouth tightened with concern. Jerrol was thinner, having lost weight in the few months they had been apart. The arms master had raised his slight build as a concern when he had first been inducted into the rangers, but his wiry, stubborn constitution had always proved true.
He rubbed his chin, remembering the one time Jerrol had managed to beat him in the sparring ring. The scar was an annoying reminder. Their foster mother, Hannah, had had conniptions sewing him up, berating both of them for their carelessness. “What happened?” he asked as he squatted next to the tiny fire and inhaled the intoxicating smell of coffee. “Coffee,” he exclaimed, “you’ve got real coffee?”
The bowman shifted as the aroma reached him, his eyes brightening. “Kafinee?” he murmured.
Jerrol grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his face eased. “The last bag. I couldn’t get any more so make the most of it. I hope you brought some money with you as I’m just about out.” He handed a mug to the bowman and then one to Jennery.
“Bliss.” Jennery communed with his mug and sipped the steaming black coffee. It was pungent but smooth, and more importantly hot. He relaxed as the warmth crept down his limbs.
The unusual bowman hovering in the doorway drew his attention. Even with the coffee in hand, he held himself alertly. He looked as if he could deal with whatever came through the door. His silver eyes never stopped moving, continually scanning the surroundings. He wore an archaic silvery-green uniform, with a high-necked collar, which made him look mysterious, foreign. The material shimmered even though there was little light.
“Who’s this in the fancy get-up?” Jennery jerked his head at the man at the door.
“I don’t know.” Jerrol stared at the dark-haired young man. “I first saw you in the temple in Old Vespers. Who are you?”
The man ducked his head. “The Lady bid me protect you; you have too many enemies, Captain.”
“You’re a Sentinal, aren’t you?” Jerrol said slowly. The man stilled, and Jennery gasped.
“He can’t be. They all died,” Jennery blurted, and the man flinched, his face paling.
“No, they didn’t. The Lady encased her guards in the sentinal trees to protect them. You’ve been sleeping, haven’t you? You’re Birlerion. One of the forgotten.”
The man deliberated, staring at Jerrol, his face unnaturally stiff. “Yes, the Lady named me Birlerion. I am one of her Guards.”
“But that would mean he’s over three thousand years old,” Jennery gasped, his mouth dropping. He didn’t believe it; it wasn’t possible. Birlerion stepped back, his eyes flitting around him.
“Why didn’t you come forward before?” Jerrol said, his voice calm.
Birlerion flicked a glance out the doorway. “If they didn’t know I was there, easier to take them out.”
Jennery scoffed, watching the man who looked ready to flee. “And how many have you taken out?” he asked with morbid interest.
Birlerion clamped his lips shut and turned away.
“Enough, Jennery, drink your coffee.”
Jennery dragged his gaze away from the strange Sentinal and looked at Jerrol. His friend was on edge and greatly worn down. His uniform was grubby, mud-splashed, and unrecognisable except for the badge on his tunic. For the third time, Jennery asked, “What happened?”
Jerrol hesitated, delaying his response by sipping his coffee. Eventually, he raised his head and looked at Jennery. “There was a misunderstanding. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but the upshot is...” He hesitated again and gave a slight shrug. “The Prince arrested me for treason.”
Jennery gasped. “What?”
“He sentenced me to death.” Jerrol stared into his mug.
“But, but why?” Jennery couldn’t grasp what he was saying.
“It seems that Prince Kharel has the ear of the King and has convinced him that I am working against the Crown and not to be trusted. Oh, and Isseran has levied some such accusation or other that I’ve been trying to discredit him.” Jerrol rubbed his face, and Jennery saw his hand tremble. “The King is ill; he has some palsy that is eroding his strength. Prince Kharel is feeling vulnerable. Instead of relying on his greatest weapon, the King’s Rangers, he is sowing dissension. At least Prince Anders is out of Vespers with the army. By casting me out, he thinks he can strengthen his grip, and reduce the rangers’ influence on the King.”
“But you are one of the King’s most trusted advisors! He wouldn’t send anyone but you to Birtoli; he refused to consider anyone else. The resolution was acclaimed by all; even the Princess acceded to the agreement. If anyone were going to get upset, it would have been her. And collusion against the Chancellor?” Jennery paused, trying to find a foul enough word to use. He gave up. “I don’t believe it,” he said. “Nor will anyone else.”
“I have been on Isseran’s detail for the last two months, remember. He is rumoured to be negotiating with a high-level party for support, and I have been seen in his vicinity. It doesn’t take much for most people to assume the worst.”
“If you are no longer part of the court, there is no benefit to Isseran.”
“Of course there is. The King has lost a trusted advisor. He wins either way.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Isseran knows you would never betray the King. I don’t believe he would even waste his time trying. The King knows it too, and nothing you say will make me believe differently.” Jennery glared at Jerrol.
Jerrol laughed, though there was little humour in it. “I don’t think the tale of my arrest was bandied about that much.” A pained expression passed over his face. “I think the Prince was hoping to kill me off quietly, without anyone noticing.”
Jennery’s breath hissed out in dismay; there was something not quite right, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. “What did Nikols say?”
“Well, seeing as he was the one who helped me escape, I assume he thought that the accusations would hold. I thought it would be best if I kept my head down, maybe check out the Watches whilst the furore dies down. Incognito, you know.” Jerrol paused, waiting.
“Incognito! I’ll have his head on a pike, the bastard. You wait till I get my hands on him. How dare he treat you so? To let the Prince arrest you...” Jennery broke off, appalled. No wonder his friend looked so wrung out.
Jerrol held up his hands, fending Jennery off. “I know, I know,” he said. “Calm down, think of it as a break, time to relax,” he added with a slight smile.
The comment gave Jennery pause. “What? In all this mud? Not the sort of place I’d choose,” he huffed. “How come I’m here? If you are not on King’s business, how did you manage to wangle my orders? I am an important member of the King’s army, you know. Those orders were official, though now I think on it, they were a bit vague.”
Jerrol laughed and gripped his friend’s arm. “I’ve missed you.”
Jennery squinted at him. “Hmm. Are you going to tell me what’s really going on here? Or do I have to beat it out of you? And where did you find that mare? There is no way she is a garrison horse, and quite frankly, there is no way you could afford to buy her.”
“I told you; I’ve been discharged. I managed to get out of Old Vespers before the Prince could do anything more permanent, though it was a near thing. He was very enthusiastic in his pursuit!” Jerrol paused. “I believe I have Birlerion to thank for making it this far. The mare found me on the road and decided to stay.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to argue, I’d walked far enough. The only thing all this mud is good for is disguising what she is, though even then she is still quite eye-catching, no matter what I say to her. The Darian breed is rare in Vespiri. I’m hoping most people won’t recognise her for what she is.”
“And how successful has that been?” Jennery asked, his voice bland. “The Darians make lifelong bonds, don’t they? Has she accepted you as her rider?” He snapped his fingers. “She must have. I bet she’s given you her name, hasn’t she!”
Birlerion stiffened. “Never share her name,” he said, his voice edged with an emotion Jennery couldn’t identify. “She is the Lady’s gift.”
“She did,” Jerrol admitted. “The first time she spoke to me, I almost fell off her in shock. That was a surprise; it’s almost as if she were looking for me. I must admit I don’t think I would have survived without her; she’s been good company.” He stared bleakly into the fire, his face taut.
Jennery shifted as the silence drew out, and discreetly observed Birlerion. Considering how fraught his friend looked, he wondered how the Sentinal had managed to cope with being abruptly woken and shoved into a situation not of his making, nor of his time. He didn’t say much. They knew nothing about him, and the thought of him silently following Jerrol these last few weeks made his gut tighten.
At least he was here now; he could protect Jerrol. “So now I’m here, what’s the plan? I need to pick up my horse and saddlebags from the village.”
“I thought I’d disguise myself as a King’s Ranger seeing as I am so experienced,” Jerrol said. “No one will recognise me. It worked quite well earlier.” He grew serious. “We need to check out the King’s Watches; it appears the administration is under threat. Too many have forgotten the promises, the guardians are failing, and we need to discover why. A gentle jaunt exploring the countryside, what more could you ask for?”
“Less mud,” came the grumpy response.
Chapter 6
Greenswatch
Jerrol waited his turn at the water hole, digesting the news that Lord Hugh of Greenswatch had travelled to Deepwater for the confirmation of Lord Aaron. Zin’talia had tugged her reins free and wandered over to the pond whilst they had been talking to the teamsters and was now cropping the short, wiry grass around the edges. He could sense her impatience; she wanted to get off the road and find a warm stable.
Frowning, he squatted down at the water’s edge to scoop up a handful and splash his face. What to do next? He rubbed his face over and rinsed again. He unstopped his water skin and dunked it in the pool. Jennery leaned against his horse, as he too drank from the water. Birlerion hovered on the edge of the road, watching the wagon train disappear around the bend.
“I think we’ll swing around south by the Grove before heading across to Stoneford. No point going to Greenswatch if Lord Hugh isn’t going to be home. We can stop off there and report to Lord Hugh on the way back.”
“I can’t wait. I need a bath; all this dipping in rivers can’t be good for you.” Jennery bared his teeth. “I need a few comforts on this merry jaunt of ours. Can’t you find a hostelry for once? There’s one about ten
miles further on, Mucky Duck or something; it’s on the outskirts of the Lady’s Grove. Let’s make for that and have a good meal; you’re wasting away, lad.”
Jerrol tilted his head, a slight smile on his face. “You mean the Black Hen? I assume it has a taproom?”
“It would be rude not to, now wouldn’t it?” Jennery grinned.
“Alright,” Jerrol agreed. “Let’s do that. The horses could do with a rest; we’ve covered some miles this last week. Now we are in the Greenswatch we need to keep a closer eye out, ask a few questions. Though that does not mean we are going to crawl from one taproom to the next,” he said with a mock scowl as Jennery’s grin deepened.
Jerrol shook his head, stoppered the water skin and hooked it back under his saddlebag. “You all finished here? Birlerion, do you need to top up your water?” He gestured to the pool as he prepared to remount Zin’talia.
Birlerion took his place at the water’s edge as Jerrol swung himself up and Jennery gathered up his reins and pulled his horse away from the pond. Jerrol turned onto the muddy track that would lead them north towards the tall sentinal trees that stood in the Grove.
Jennery glanced at the mysterious Sentinal as they rode. He rarely spoke. On occasion, he graced them with his presence, like now, but usually he was a shadow on their trail, silent and deadly. “So, Birlerion. Where were you from? Where did you call home?”
Birlerion hesitated before answering. “I was born in Vespers, but I called Greens home.”
“Vespers. Yeah? Which one? Old or New?”
“There was only one Vespers.”
Jennery nodded sagely. “Old, then. What was it like three thousand years ago?”
Birlerion’s face was stiff, but he answered. “A lot smaller.”
“We could’ve guessed that. Tell us something we don’t know.”
Birlerion glared at Jennery, and Jennery gave him a bright smile. He made a silent bet the Sentinal wouldn’t tell them anything. He rarely spoke as it was.
Sentinals Awaken: Book One of the Sentinals Series Page 4
