“Watching what? What did you see?”
“I saw the Sentinals, led by their Captain. They wait, they have been waiting a long time.”
“What do they wait for, Taelia?”
“For the Captain to awaken them.”
Greenswatch
The morning sun crept around the house and blazed through the bedroom window, waking Jerrol. He lay still, basking in the warmth, assessing his body’s complaints; his shoulder ached, his ribs were a muted throb; otherwise, he felt fine.
As he ruminated over the earlier discussion, he sensed Zin’talia’s contentment, a soft embrace that meant he wasn’t alone. Magic, he thought; magic was leaking back into the world.
A result of shredding the Veil? Was it even possible to shred it, and if so, who could do it? He hadn’t realised the Veil was a physical thing. A question for Silene – and on that thought he got up and dressed carefully. Leaving his shirt loose and carrying his jacket, he went downstairs.
He found Birlerion sitting at the table, a half-empty bowl of left-over stew before him, impossibly playing with a blue flame, rolling it across his fingers, before lighting the candle and blowing it out again.
“How is that not burning you?”
Birlerion looked up, startled. Flushing, he relit the candle and picked up his spoon. “I thought I’d lost the knack, but it seems to be back,” he said.
“You’ve been letting me struggle all these weeks, and you could have lit our fires for us.”
Birlerion grimaced. “I thought it was a lost skill; it didn’t work, to begin with.” He rubbed his fingers, and the flame appeared again. “It’s only since the fire I’ve been able to do it again, and I did offer.”
Jerrol snorted. That wasn’t the only thing that had changed; it was as if something had relaxed in the Sentinal, he was certainly more talkative. “Without telling us how you were doing it, could you teach me?”
“I don’t know. If you don’t naturally have the ability, it’s unlikely to manifest now.”
“Well, who could do it? Is it a Sentinal thing? How did you learn?”
“Sit down and eat,” Silene interrupted them as she came into the room with another plate and a mug of coffee. “Eat and afterwards I’ll check your side.”
“How’s Jennery?” Jerrol asked, glaring at Birlerion as he obediently sat.
“Still asleep. He took quite a crack on the head, he’s lucky they didn’t just stick a knife in him,” Birlerion mused as he pushed his empty plate away.
“I think they were only paid for one death,” Jerrol said.
“Possible,” conceded Birlerion. “Reese and I went down and moved the bodies. They’re in the shed for you to take a look. I must admit I didn’t notice anything that would tell us who sent them, though we can guess.”
“Yes, it seems Kharel is getting impatient. I suppose the fact he is sending assassins means he’s determined to execute me. Though I think I’ll have to disappoint him.” Jerrol focused on his plate of stew; it was delicious. He relaxed back into his chair and, looking up, caught Silene frowning at him. “Is something the matter?”
“No.” Silene’s face relaxed. “Not really, but you are a bit of a conundrum, Captain. I can see the Lady’s hand, but there is also another. One I cannot see clearly.”
“Well, let me know when you find out what it is.” Jerrol grimaced. “I think the Lady’s influence is enough to manage for now. Last night...” Or was it this morning? He shook the thought out of his head. “When we last spoke, you said you thought magic was leaking back into the world. How is that possible?”
Silene sat at the table opposite him. “Captain, as you know, the Lady’s Veil is what separates the Lady and the Ascendants from this world. It is a barrier that was erected by the power of the Lady and the sundering of the Bloodstone. Legend says that the Ascendants have been trying to find ways to breach the barrier for centuries. On occasion, they find something that can penetrate, and they focus on trying to widen the gap. Their goal is to bring down the Veil and ascend to power here.”
“Wait, you mean the Ascendants are still alive? I thought they all died when the stone was destroyed.”
Silene smiled at him sadly. “A common belief, but mistaken. The Ascendants certainly exist, but whether you would call it alive in the manner of our people, I’m not sure. The Guardians and the Ascendants were cut from a different cloth to us and had very different powers. Remember the Lady is our deity, worshipped from afar, our only link to the civilisation that existed here all those centuries ago.”
“The Ascendants were not so different to us, and nothing like the Lady,” Birlerion said, his voice low.
Silene stared at him. “I keep forgetting you know what actually happened. What we know we pieced together from those early records. You will rewrite history.”
“I’ll leave that to Serillion. He was the historian.”
“And what were you?” Silene asked, suddenly intent.
“Just a Sentinal doing the Lady’s bidding,” Birlerion replied with a wry twist of his lips.
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Silene murmured. She turned to Jerrol. “Captain, I fear you will need to return to the Chapterhouse in Old Vespers and search for that old civilisation. If they found a way to penetrate the Veil, you’ll need to find a way to prevent them from returning. The Watch Towers above Velmouth is another important location. The Veil Watchers are underestimated and often forgotten.”
“Silene,” Jerrol asked, “have you ever heard of a Veil-shredder?”
Silene’s eyes dilated as her face drained of all colour; she leapt to her feet and took a step back. “Who mentioned such a thing?”
“Sylvie said she would tell me about them, but she didn’t have a chance.”
Silene sat at the table with a thump. “We try not to speak about them; the less said, the better.”
“What are they?”
Silene bent her head, her lips tight. “If Sylvie mentioned it, then she must have been concerned.” She looked up. “The Veil can be damaged. Some people have the power to reach out with their minds: those who have trained their skill to such an art that they can reach the Veil. They try to force a breach, to split the weave. The Veil Watchers should be watching for it, though; it’s their job to repair it.”
“The Veil Watchers can repair the Veil?” Jerrol sat forward, watching Silene.
“They used to. I’m not sure if they are capable anymore,” Silene admitted. “They have become forgotten, lost in time. I doubt they are even aware of what is happening around them. They are so old. I doubt they know how anymore.”
“Shouldn’t we be keeping them alert and watching? To protect us from this very occurrence?” Jerrol’s stomach dropped at the thought the current difficulties could be their own fault.
“It’s been over three thousand years,” Silene said. “People forget, things don’t seem so important when the threat is non-existent. The purpose of the Towers has long been forgotten, the people inside a distant memory. Not everything is passed on as the people forget its purpose.”
“The Watchers are three thousand years old?” Jerrol slumped back in his chair in shock.
“What’s left of them,” Silene said.
“They were first instigated when the Lady created the Watches,” Birlerion said.
“But how?”
“Much like the Sentinals, I would think. The Lady blessed her guards with her protection,” Silene said.
“The Lady said they were stirring, that I need to awaken them,” Jerrol said, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could block out the idea. He had to waken Sentinals and the Watchers?
“Then you should wake them,” Silene said, watching him open his eyes, which gleamed silver. “Captain,” she finished softly.
His eyes widened. “How?”
Silene shrugged. “I am sorry, Captain, I do not know, that is your job.” She turned to Birlerion. “Tell me, is it true the Lady Leyandrii and Lady Marguerite lived in the palac
e in Vespers?”
“Where else would they live?”
“I knew it. What was Marguerite like? There is so little written about her. What happened to her?”
“She was a beautiful young lady. Mischievous and full of life. Very attuned to the Land. She spent much of her time in what is now called Elothia. She supported Leyandrii at the end, did what was needed.”
“Is it true she bonded with the Land?”
Birlerion stilled. “What makes you ask that?”
Silene patted his shoulder as if to reassure him. “I am attuned to the Land as well. And sometimes I think I sense her.”
“You would be in no doubt if you met Marguerite,” Birlerion said with a small smile. “As I said, she did what was necessary.”
Jerrol sat stunned; he didn’t know why he felt so shocked, but he did. It was if every myth he had heard had stood to attention and proclaimed they were real. His mind couldn’t grasp the enormity of it. And yet, the Lady had told him, not in so many words but if he had listened the message had been there. He rested his head in his hands as Birlerion stood and went to check on Jennery. He straightened as his side twinged.
Silene was beside him immediately. “Let me check that for you,” she said, pulling his shirt up. He took off his shirt and let Silene fuss over his wound. “That looks fine, no sign of infection.” She dusted it with more powder and tied the bandages back on. “You’ll need those stitches out next week. Otherwise, it should all heal itself if you take care.”
“Birlerion and I need to go and speak to Lord Hugh. We thought if Jennery was still poorly, we could leave him with you and pick him up later this evening?”
“That is probably best.” Silene looked up from her wrapping as Birlerion came back in the room.
“He’s not with it, best we leave him here if that’s alright with Silene and Reese?”
“Let’s go saddle up and see what Lord Hugh has to say to all this.” Jerrol stood and slipped on his jacket.
They were riding down the track towards Greenswatch before they spoke. “You should wake the others,” Birlerion said. “We need their help.”
Jerrol stared at him. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to wake them.”
“Knock on the door and tell them to come out,” Birlerion suggested with a gleam in his eye.
“If only it were that easy.”
“I think we need them. If the Ascendants have found a way to shred the Veil, we are at risk.”
“They must have help on this side of the Veil,” Jerrol said.
“They would have supporters just as the Lady does. The council’s new advisors?”
“To name a few, no doubt,” agreed Jerrol. “They definitely have influence; persuasiveness doesn’t seem to be a problem for them, does it?”
“It never was,” Birlerion said as they turned on to a well-kept tree-lined road leading to Lord Hugh’s home. The trees parted to reveal a grey-stoned manor house. A stone archway led to an internal courtyard, which reminded Jerrol of the keep at Stoneford where he had grown up.
Birlerion looked around with interest, though he did not comment. As they approached the stone-slabbed courtyard the relaxed nature of the guards was proof that Lord Hugh had yet to arrive; there was no bustle or confusion in the yard.
Lord Hugh’s steward Garrick came to greet them as they dismounted, frowning at their unfamiliar garb. “Captain Haven?” he said uncertainly, recognising Jerrol from previous visits.
“Garrick, it’s good to see you again. This is my colleague, Birlerion of the Lady’s Guard. We hoped Lord Hugh would have returned from Deepwater by now.” Jerrol handed his reins to a young lad who was staring in awe at Zin’talia.
Garrick blinked at Birlerion, who was inspecting the courtyard. He shook himself. “We expect Lord Hugh within the day; please join me inside.” Garrick led the way through the dark doorway as the lads took the horses around the back.
Jerrol followed, relieved they hadn’t heard of his fall from grace. “I was hoping to visit your records room, if that is acceptable? If Lord Hugh hasn’t arrived by the time we finished, we’ll head out to meet him on the road. I need to travel on to Stoneford anyway.”
“Of course, let me show you the way.”
They followed Garrick through a stone archway leading inside the mansion; the stone walls were softened by coloured drapes, and the air cooled imperceptibly. In the centre of the entrance foyer was a sweeping staircase leading to the galleries above. Below the stairs, corridors wove behind and under, leading to offices, storerooms and the Greenswatch records room.
Garrick stopped at a wooden door. “The records room. I’m afraid Lord Hugh does not allow food or drink inside; we’ve had accidents in the past that damaged essential papers. Refreshments will be laid out in the room next door for you. Please do not take them into the records room.”
“We understand. We appreciate your hospitality,” Jerrol said as he entered the room. He inhaled the familiar odour of musty books and dust that seemed inevitable in all records rooms.
“Silene mentioned a section for historical events?” Jerrol turned around, inspecting the books. Wooden shelves lined the walls, and every shelf was full of books, scrolls and manuscripts. There wasn’t a single empty shelf.
Garrick gestured at the shelves. “This whole room records events; it is a personal perspective as to whether it is major or not. I imagine she was referring to the Elemental scroll. It records any change in power, unusual storms or floods, changes in weather patterns or a change of government, a new King, for example.”
“Changes in power,” Jerrol repeated, hearing an echo of Silene’s calm voice. “That would be it, I think.”
Garrick turned the dial on the glass lamp to increase the light in the room and ran a hand down the cataloguing system; he found the reference he was looking for and pulled a hefty tome from one of the shelves. “Here you go,” he said, heaving it on the table. “Refreshments will be next door,” he said as he left the room.
Jerrol sat down and opened the book, and Birlerion drifted over to look over his shoulder.
The Elemental scroll was, in fact, a book of loose-leaf parchment pages, which had been sewn into the book individually. He skimmed down the rough pages, letting his eyes accustom themselves to the archaic script. He had learnt to speed read at the Chapterhouse in Old Vespers. He thanked his friend Torsion yet again for persevering with an impatient young boy who preferred to be in the training yard than a schoolroom.
The pages referred to floods, the planting of ancient plantations, the felling of specific trees, or the loss of specimens in storms. It marked the line of Descelles from the beginning and then the Lords who ruled the Greenswatch starting with Lord Warren Descelles, the first Lord Warden of Greens, his son Penner inheriting after him and so on, an unbroken line to the current day.
Jerrol paused over an entry celebrating four of their children becoming Sentinals in the year 1122. Versill, Marian, Tagerill and Birler. And their loss in 1124 when the Lady sundered the stone. To lose four of your children on one day. Jerrol couldn’t imagine the pain that the family had gone through. He looked up and met Birlerion’s anguished eyes.
“They were so proud of us,” Birlerion whispered, the grief evident in his voice. “To lose all of us would have destroyed them; we were such a tight-knit family. Tagerill would have it we were all tied together, woven tightly, that’s why they would never let you go. If only they had known where we were, it might have eased their grief.”
Jerrol looked back at the pages and away from the pain in his eyes. There were oblique references to Guardians, though not specific names or locations, loremasters, councillors, temple leaders. His eyes caught on the word descendant. Descendant? He focused on the page and reread it more slowly.
The Ascendants had descendants. There was a record of a descendant visiting the Greenswatch over a thousand years ago; the descendant had been proud of his heritage, had demanded his due. The people of the Lady’s land o
wed him for the tragic loss of his ancestors. He had searched for something, though there was no record of what he had been looking for nor of him finding it. He had left another descendant in his wake. The birth of his child was recorded, though there was no mention of whether the child’s father ever returned. The Ascendants had descendants, and the descendants had descendants. He wondered how strong the belief was that they could find a way to bring their ancestors back.
Jerrol leaned back in his chair and stretched his aching shoulders. He had found the thread he needed. Making a note of the name of the child on a scrap of paper, he skimmed through the book, searching for further descendants. He found an unbroken line to the date that the King’s census, currently out of his reach, took over two hundred years ago and the records stopped.
Jerrol closed the book and turned down the lamp. He would leave it for Garrick to return to the right place. Leaving the records room, he returned to the foyer by the grand staircase. Birlerion must have gotten bored and found his own entertainment. Jerrol hoped his homecoming wasn’t too painful.
The manor house was still calm and quiet. Lord Hugh and his retinue had not yet returned, even though the day had progressed. He had been searching for two or three hours.
There was a clatter of hooves, and a black horse came to a skidding halt. A small boy slid off the mud-splashed horse and clutched the stirrup to hold himself up as his legs trembled with the effort.
Garrick came striding out of another part of the building. “Norris! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Lord Hugh?”
“Sir, Lord Hugh bade me give you this, hand it to you and no one else, sir.” Norris pulled a twisted screw of paper from his jerkin and held it out. “It’s taken me all day to get here. He said I wasn’t to be seen, by anyone!”
Jerrol wondered what would have made Hugh so ultra-careful and shivered as a sense of foreboding flashed through him. He joined Garrick.
Garrick dismissed Norris and led the way into his office, gesturing for Jerrol to follow. He sat heavily frowning as he read. He sighed and tossed the paper to Jerrol. “The boy didn’t take up the mantle; Deepwater has no Guardian. We need to look at our protocols and protect the land. This does not bode well. Deepwater will sicken, and she will affect our borders.” Garrick looked sick himself. “This could be the start of the end,” he said. “Hugh is concerned that Simeon will not pick up the mantle, either. There is a groundswell of sentiment in support of the councils. The councils’ word is gaining more weight than the King. The younger generation is more susceptible to new ideas. The protocols are the precautions to defend from the inside, salvage what we can.”
Sentinals Awaken: Book One of the Sentinals Series Page 13
