Sentinals Awaken: Book One of the Sentinals Series

by Helen Garraway

  “Danilesh, what is the meaning of this?” Jason was horrified.

  Danilesh glowered at Jason before staring at the floor. A young private came forward with the crossbow. He was shaking his hand out. “M’lord, he was too busy reloading to check who was behind him,” the young man said, handing over the crossbow, having just struck a senior officer.

  The two guards on either side of Danilesh jerked his arms back painfully, forcing his head up. Jason took the crossbow, thinking fast. “Was he on his own?”

  “As far as we could see, he didn’t have a spotter,” the young man replied.

  “Private Mackie, isn’t it?”

  “Yessir.” The young man stood to attention and saluted.

  “Escort Mr Danilesh here to the cells and then join me in my office.”

  “Yessir!” He saluted again and gestured the men to precede him to the cells.

  Jason took a deep breath, trying to control his rapidly beating heart. He stared at Chryllion.

  “My apologies, my lord, there was no time to warn you.”

  Jason waved away his apology. “Thank goodness you were here,” he said as they walked to his office, where his remaining captains were waiting for him. He threw the crossbow on his desk with a loud clatter. “Bramon, why was Danilesh trying to kill me?” he asked, his voice cold and harsh.

  Captain Bramon stepped back at the ferocity in Jason’s voice. “W-what?” He gaped at Jason.

  “Danilesh, he is in your division, isn’t he? Where is he from? Has his behaviour changed recently?”

  “Lieutenant Danilesh is from Appletree, on the borders of East Watch. He’s a solid officer, clean record, the men like him. I haven’t noticed anything different in his behaviour. He is just back from leave. What happened?”

  Jason pointed at the crossbow. “He tried to nail me with that. Now, why do you think he would do that?”

  “I-I don’t know, sir,” Bramon stuttered. “There is no reason for him to target you.”

  “Well, he obviously thought there was, and we need to find out if there are any others like him,” Jason snapped. “You need to be on the lookout for any change in behaviour. I need to know we can trust our men. I need to know I can trust you.” Jason took a deep breath. “I called you in here today to bring you up to date. This,” and he pointed at the crossbow, “makes it more imperative.” He was interrupted by a tap at the door.

  “Come,” he said.

  Private Mackie opened the door, saluted and shut the door behind him. “Lieutenant Danilesh is restrained in the East cell block, sir. I left two guards with him. Umm, I took the liberty of requesting two men from Captain Bramon’s unit to man the walls, sir.”

  “Very good,” Jason said. “Captain Bramon, Corporal Mackie here shows excellent initiative. I suggest you use him wisely.”

  “Yessir,” Bramon replied.

  “Right, sit, gentlemen, this is the situation.” And Jason, after waiting for them all to settle, gave them a quick summary of recent events. “We can now see that even our garrison is being affected by whatever disease is spreading through the Watches. We are already spread thin, with the border patrols and increased garrison security; adding a campaign against the smuggling routes is going to extend us further. Suggestions, gentlemen?”

  “Why don’t we bring our plans for the Fourth Division forward? Drop the other divisions down to two units for now, before we can recruit. Now is probably not the time to bring new people in if we cannot be sure of their loyalty,” suggested the second unit commander. “We can tighten the rotations, reduce the leave to garrison only. We are under war conditions in effect.”

  Bramon spoke up. “I suggest we interview every man who is back from leave; with the unit restructure we could say it’s for reassignment, which will be true enough. We don’t want all our experience in one division. And a rotation may not be a bad thing if we think there are some rotten apples.”

  “We should use the cadets, sir, add them to the garrison rotation, slot them into the units. It would be good experience.” Mackie spoke hesitantly. As Jason nodded encouragingly, his voice firmed up and he continued. “And help bolster the numbers, which might mean we could keep an extra unit or two. There are duties that they could do, which would relieve some of the pressure on the other units, and most of them are gagging to move up, sir.”

  “Interesting idea. Go and fetch the drillmaster for me.” Mackie left the room as Jason continued. “Recommendations for advancement should be on my desk by tomorrow. Bryce should be back before the end of the month; in the interim, his sergeant will act in his stead. Each of you set up the interviews, and by the end of the week, I want your suggestions for the divisions. I also want to create a floater unit under my command.” Jason paused as he looked at Bramon. “In this floater unit I want men you absolutely trust, as we also have another task,” and he went on to explain the need for investigating the council.

  “But isn’t that out of our jurisdiction?” Bramon asked. “I mean, that’s the King’s business, not the army’s.”

  “The safety of the people in the Watches is our business, and these are unusual times. We know something is going on, and it is our responsibility to find out what, and to protect the King and his people against it. Right, you have your orders, get moving. Report back by the end of the week. Any concerns, raise them immediately, don’t wait. Bramon, stay, we need to speak with Danilesh.” He dismissed the others.

  The drillmaster and Corporal Mackie caught up with them as they descended the stone steps to the cell block. The air was dank and still, the gloom alleviated by lanterns hanging at regular intervals along the corridor.

  Two guards bracketed the barred door. The first guard saluted Jason before pulling the bolt back and opening the door. “He hasn’t said a word, sir,” he reported, standing back. Jason stepped forward, with the drillmaster looming behind him. A soft command and Mackie moved in front with a lantern which dispelled the darkness. Danilesh huddled on his cot, lost and bewildered; gone was the angry glowering attacker.

  He lurched to his feet and stood to attention as soon as he saw Jason. He was slightly taller than Jason with broad shoulders and a trim figure. As Bramon said, he was a solid officer and completely reliable until now.

  Jason stopped in front of him. “Report,” he said.

  “S-sir? I’m not sure why I am here. What happened?” Danilesh held his head, frowning. “I don’t remember getting here, did I hit my head?” He glanced around the cell with unseeing eyes.

  Jason observed him. “You tried to shoot me with a crossbow.”

  “Never,” Danilesh responded. “I would never do such a thing. I would never betray my o-o-...” He coughed, trying to get the word out. He tried again. “My o-o... ugh,” and he inhaled as he choked on the words. He began to panic as he struggled to breathe; his eyes rolled as he started hyperventilating. Jason rushed to hold him down as he collapsed on the floor.

  “Get Tyrone, quick,” Jason ordered over his shoulder.

  Mackie handed the lantern off to the drillmaster and ran for the infirmary. The drillmaster knelt next to Jason. “What’s going on here, Jason?” he asked, staring at Danilesh as the shudders eased and his body relaxed.

  “I don’t know, let’s get him off the floor.” Between them, they lifted the unconscious man onto the bed. Jason gave the drillmaster a quick recap of the morning’s events. He had just finished when Tyrone appeared in the doorway. “Tyrone, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Tyrone moved over to the bed. “Mackie here filled me in. Danilesh had no memory of the event at all?”

  “That’s what he said. And when he was trying to say such an action would be against his oath, he seized right up, couldn’t get the word out. It was strange, Tyrone, I’ve never seen anything like it, it was if his body was preventing him from saying the words. He started to spasm almost immediately.”

  Tyrone checked Danilesh’s pulse and eyes. “Let’s get him back to the infirmary, and I can invest
igate further. Once he’s conscious, I’ll let you know, and you can question him again while I’m observing him. I would recommend we keep him under guard for his safety.”

  Jason stared at the now peaceful Danilesh. “You think he is a risk to himself?”

  “Let’s take the precaution. I don’t like where this is heading.” Tyrone called in his helpers, and they lifted Danilesh onto a stretcher before leading the way out of the cell. Jason ordered the guards to accompany him and dismissed Mackie back to his duties. He walked with the drillmaster. “It was suggested this morning that most of your cadets are ready to step up into the units. At least in supporting roles.”

  “Depends what you have in mind,” the drillmaster rumbled. He was a big man with a barrel chest and a deep voice which could be heard across the training field when he wanted it to be.

  “There is a disease spreading through the Watches. Unfortunately, we are infected too, though to what extent I don’t yet know. I need to know who we can trust. We are stretched thin with all the problems we are facing. I need to defend the garrison, stop the smuggling trade, patrol the borders and clean up the Watches. If I drop the divisions down to two units, we could create a fourth division. You know we’ve been talking about it, but we haven’t had the men. The question is, how ready are your lads? We would be fast-tracking them, but it might do them good, and buck up the other men.”

  The master nodded slowly. “As long as you don’t rely on them in the front line of a pitched battle, I think they will manage fine. I have thirty lads in their final year. It would only be another nine months before we graduated them. I intended day placing them soon.”

  “Work with my unit commanders on the best placements. They will provide their recommendations by the end of the week. The earlier, the better to be honest,” Jason said as he eased his shoulders. He slowly walked back to his office, suddenly drained.

  Tyrone called Jason back to the infirmary that evening. He was waiting for Jason in the outer room, his face grave. “I’m not going to tell you what I think happened. You can question him and see where it goes. I’ll be watching his reactions, and I’ll be ready if necessary.”

  Ready for what? Jason thought to himself, but he followed Tyrone into the smaller back room.

  Danilesh was sitting up in bed. A guard stood in the corner of the room with a strange expression on his face, a combination of fascination and sympathy.

  Jason stood over him, waiting, while Tyrone drew up a chair and sat, making himself comfortable.

  “How are you feeling?” Jason asked.

  “Much better, sir. I am sorry, I don’t remember what happened. Master Tyrone was telling me I collapsed, but I don’t remember.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I am sure it’ll come back later,” Jason reassured him. “How was your leave? You went to visit your parents, didn’t you, in Appletree?”

  “Yes,” Danilesh said, a frown creasing his face. “Yes, I did. My brother was home on leave too. He is in the King’s Fourth Cohort over on the borders with Terolia. My mother was ecstatic having us both home. It doesn’t happen very often.”

  “Terolia, eh? Does he like it? What did your brother say about it?”

  “Oh, the usual, soldiers always complain, sir.” He made a face. “He was eager to go back. He made quite a few friends over there.”

  “Did he talk about any friends in particular?”

  “I don’t know. He might have. I can’t remember.” Danilesh massaged his temple.

  “Was Captain Haven mentioned at all?”

  Danilesh reacted as if he had been punched in the chest, gasping for breath as his heart rate spiked. Tyrone leaned forward. “It’s alright, Dani,” he said, “deep breaths, that’s right, you can control it.”

  Jason waited patiently as Danilesh got his breathing back under control. Tyrone sat back, and Jason continued.

  “I was reading an interesting book yesterday. It was explaining the origin of the Guardians.” Jason paused as Danilesh lurched out of his bed, hands reaching for him. His sheets tangled his legs, and he fell, the spasms prostrating him, and Tyrone had a draught ready to pour down his throat around the piece of wood he had shoved in his mouth.

  Jason watched Danilesh as the tremors smoothed out and left the young man exhausted.

  “One last thing, Dani, say the Lady’s Oath,” Jason said, watching the immediate subdued reaction, the drug taking the edge off the severity, but there all the same.

  “Someone has planted a reaction to keywords in his head,” Tyrone muttered, standing up as his helpers returned Danilesh to the bed. “A bit clumsily, as it doesn’t matter the context, merely the word.”

  Jason looked down at semi-conscious Danilesh. “And I am assuming he is a knife at my throat?”

  “I’m not sure. It depends if the imperative was for one attempt or to continue until he killed you or died himself. Without knowing the keyword, we’ll never know.”

  “Is there any way of reversing it?”

  Tyrone shook his head as he gently covered Danilesh with a blanket. “Without the keyword, it is impossible.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” Jason demanded – and worst of all, how was he supposed to prevent it from happening to others? Lady help us, he thought desperately; they had no protection against such a threat.

  Tyrone straightened up. “One thing, though, you have an easy check for all your men. Get them to recite the Lady’s Oath every morning. You’ll soon know if someone has been affected.”

  Chapter 25

  Watch Towers, Stoneford Watch

  Jerrol worried they had delayed too long explaining the situation to the only councillor in Velmouth not in receipt of one of Fortes’ letters. Councillor Sellins had not believed them, to begin with, and had been horrified when he did. They left him rounding up his wayward councillors and threatening Fortes with whatever foul punishments he could think up.

  They travelled as fast as they could to Tower Hamlets, skirting the lake which took up most of the plateau and climbing up through the trees to the towers. Birlerion had been in their hands all night. Jerrol prayed he was still alive.

  “Where do you think Saerille will be?” Jerrol asked as he dismounted and handed the reins to Tagerill. He stared up at the dark stone towers as Tagerill led their horses into a copse of trees out of sight. The grey dawn attempted to peep through the brooding, black clouds. The air was dense and moist with promised rain. Skirting the walls, he searched for a way in as Zin’talia complained about being left outside to get wet. Sometimes a Darian was more trouble than she was worth.

  “I would recommend we don’t contact her. She will stay hidden. She will come to us when she needs us,” Tagerill said as he followed Jerrol. There was no way in and in the end Tagerill boosted Jerrol up on the wall at the rear as the gate was solidly locked.

  Jerrol hovered on top of the wall searching the interior. The cobbled courtyard appeared empty. The buildings were in darkness, and he couldn’t see any sentries on duty. He climbed down into the yard. From what Jerrol knew the towers were the home of fifteen Veil Watchers, old men now, who stared at the heavens searching for answers to age-old questions.

  Scholars used to visit as part of their journeyman year, but as time passed and no answers were shared the reasons for visiting faded, and fewer came. He wondered why Torsion continued to visit. He also wondered if there were any answers which never made it out of the towers.

  Jerrol crossed the courtyard and silently eased the gate open enough for Tagerill to slip inside before closing it behind him. They froze beside a parked wagon as two guards exited a tower and crossed the courtyard, oblivious to the two standing in front of the gate. The guards’ voices travelled clearly. “Well, he was a bit of fighter. It will take a while before he cracks, but they always do in the end.”

  “If only he knew the keywords, eh? I’m sure he’d like to switch it off. To be at the mercy of someone else for the rest of your life, euch!” the other guard responded.<
br />
  Jerrol exhaled as the guards entered the building opposite. “Keywords?” he murmured, fingering the black notebook in his pocket.

  Tagerill entered the tower through the open archway. A wooden door made of heavy oak with iron fittings stood open. The deep grey stone walls were thick and smooth. A wide hallway opened before them with a spiral staircase dominating the centre and rising through the tower and curling down into velvety darkness beneath their feet. As they climbed, blind corridors and dead ends spun off at each level. Jerrol caught Tagerill’s sleeve and pulled him down a dimly lit corridor. The air was musty and dry.

  Lifting a lantern off the wall, Jerrol entered one of the end rooms. He stopped abruptly at the sight of what looked like a corpse. An ancient man dressed in an out-of-date, black velvet suit lay in a reclining chair staring up at the ceiling. His skin was creased and wrinkled like old parchment.

  Jerrol felt the man’s neck and the soft beat pulsed slowly beneath his fingers, though the man never stirred at his touch. He glanced around the empty room. Thick red curtains covered the windows and blocked out the light. The suffocating darkness was lifted only by the glow from the lantern.

  He jumped when a muttering began behind him. Tagerill entered the room and shut the door.

  “One hundred twenty-four degrees East, 31 degrees on the meridian. Veil thinning needs a patch... 125 degrees East, 31 degrees on the meridian. Veil thinning needs a patch...” The scratchy voice continued muttering a succession of numbers as Jerrol looked around the room in concern. There was nowhere to hide if anyone came.

  “Boy, I know you’re there,” the voice growled. “Are you taking this down? We need to do a patch, the Veil is thinning.”

  “Yessir,” Jerrol said, his voice echoing in the empty chamber, “only I don’t know how to do a patch.”

  “Yes you do. I can feel your power. Leyandrii sent you, didn’t she? Come here where I can see you,” the man instructed.

  Jerrol walked around in front of the Watcher. He met the man’s luminous eyes as he inspected Jerrol. “They get younger every day,” he complained to himself. “Don’t just stand there. Write down these numbers,” he said, indicating a notebook lying on his lap.