“Surprising but good news,” Jerrol replied, watching the King. He glanced at the Sentinal. “What was Isseran afraid of?”
“His own shadow, by the looks of it.”
“You went to do something, and it distracted him long enough for me to reach him.”
Birlerion sighed and twisted his wrist. “There is no magic in Remargaren anymore; it didn’t work.”
“The Ascendants have magic. Ari is magic.”
“They must have more crystals. It enhances their skill. Magic is leaking in through the rift in the Veil, enough to awaken but not enough to use. You need to seal it, Captain.”
“What will happen to you if we seal the Veil again?”
“What the Lady wills,” Birlerion said, his eyes bright.
The King managed to swallow a few more mouthfuls before leaning back against his pillows, exhausted. Jerrol took the glass and rested it in his lap, patiently waiting. The King opened his mouth and Jerrol gave him the rest of the brandy; the King watched him intently.
“Tick tock,” the King muttered.
“It should work quite fast, but we don’t have much time.” He took a deep breath. “Sire, the situation is not good.” The King snorted gently in reply.
“I know, but your Kingdom is being attacked from all angles. Prince Kharel is in league with others, the Chancellor for sure, but there seems to be some outside influence coming out of Terolia. They are targeting the Guardians. They may even have instigated it, instead of exposing it for what it is, and they are using it to drive dissension and fear.” King Benedict gripped his hand.
Jerrol continued with his report. “We’ve lost many Guardians, Lord Hugh and Lord Stefan among them. Their sons have not picked up the mantle; the lands lack their Guardians.”
“Tall and Proudies?” the King’s voice rasped.
Jerrol grinned at Birlerion. “The Sentinals are awakening. A few are here with me today; this is Birlerion.” He waved his right hand at Birlerion and paused as the King stared wide-eyed at the Sentinal.
“Your Majesty.” Birlerion ducked his head.
“The Watches are cutting the timber. The Chancellor was hoarding the wood. Something to do with the Elothians,” Jerrol continued. “We discovered there is a group called the Ascendants, and they are using a mind spell called Mentiserium to control your people.”
“By the water, no-eyes washes her hands of knowledge, pick it up,” the King said cryptically.
“You mean the scholars and Taelia especially? They know about the Ascendants?”
The King struggled to push his words out. He crossed his eyes in frustration, which would have been amusing on another day in another life. “T-the ball and chain hold the beginning,” he managed.
Jerrol was sweating, and his leg trembled with a deep ache that drained his energy, but he concentrated on the King. “There is so much knowledge, history that we have lost. I’ll start with the Sentinals and Liliian. She is going to be ecstatic when she realises she has living history in her hand. Prince Kharel discharged me, sire. Accused me of treason and placed a bounty on my head. I’m not supposed to step foot in the city.”
The King glared at Jerrol, paused as he gathered some semblance of clarity and spoke clearly and concisely:
“Do your Duty, Never Falter, Never Fail,
Lady, Land and Liege obey.
All are one, Entwined ascending,
Keeper’s Oath Never Ending.”
Jerrol froze, eyes widening; this was what the King had tried to say that day he was arrested in the throne room. He had reached the third sentence when Prince Kharel had interrupted them. “S-sire?” The words resonated through his body; he knew these words, he knew the oath, but it had never been invoked. Those were the words carved in the wall above the throne in Old Vespers.
“Never Ending,” King Benedict said firmly.
“Lady, Land and Liege obey,” Jerrol repeated. “Keeper’s Oath Never Ending.” He spread his hand across his heart and bent his head before his King. He felt the Oath acknowledge his response and lock into place with a resounding clang in the vaults of the Land that made the ground tremble. The Lady’s response was more visceral, rooted deep within; her presence branched out inside him, entwining them as one. Her greenish hue flared up as a jolt of energy shot through him, and he took a deep breath as he straightened, his eyes luminous in the dim light. The Arifel chittered excitedly as he fluttered around him.
Birlerion watched him in concern. He had thought the Captain was going to pass out, he was so pale, but now he could see both Leyandrii’s and Marguerite’s touch. The Captain was bound thrice, and there would be no escape. He gave a wry smile. The Lady was possessive; she wouldn’t be releasing him any time soon.
The King swallowed reflexively and swallowed again as the blood drained from his face, leaving him a sickly grey; a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin. “Ah.” Jerrol stood and grabbed the bowl.
He placed the bowl in front of the King, just as the King heaved and was violently sick. Birlerion handed Jerrol a towel, and Jerrol gently wiped his face. Birlerion offered more brandy, but the King shook his head. “Tick tock.” Another spasm shuddered through him, and he vomited into the bowl again.
Birlerion left to check the corridor.
Jerrol was loath to leave the King in such poor straits, but he had his orders and knew better than to disobey them. He could set some people on the right track though, he thought: spoke a few more wheels, remind them they hadn’t managed to get rid of him. He smiled ferociously in anticipation.
When Birlerion returned to the room, the King had flopped back against his pillows and was watching the Arifel. “Lost thoughts, travel far, late for supper,” the King said, eyes wide with wonder.
The Arifel walked up the bed and squatted on his chest. “Meep,” he said, staring solemnly into the King’s eyes.
“Chase dreams, fall over, break the glass,” the King replied.
The Arifel spread out his wings and chittered sternly.
The King’s face brightened. “Paper trails, ears open, yes sir!” He glared at Jerrol. “Already late, be gone!”
Ari rose into the air as the King turned back to heave into his bowl. When the King raised his head again, the room was empty.
Chapter 38
Old Vespers
When Commander Nikols and the King’s Rangers arrived, the palace was in the King’s control. The King’s staff had been reinstated, and the King, albeit a little queasily to begin with, gripped his kingdom with an iron fist and began sorting out the mess.
Per the King’s orders, Jerrol kept out of sight, constrained to the infirmary to begin with, and then working with the Sentinals and scholars while he waited for the King to relocate to Old Vespers. He worked deep in the Chapterhouse archives, surreptitiously searching for mention of the Oath Keeper and the responsibilities of the Guardians of the Land.
He was soothed by the presence of Scholar Taelia, as she organised the protocols for the search. The Sentinals deferred to her instinctively, and she seemed to have an understanding with Birlerion already. They discussed a variety of topics, often debating quite aggressively.
Her demands kept them hard at work, her insights garnering their respect much faster than Jerrol expected. He relaxed into their old routine of banter and teasing without noticing. The Sentinals watched their interactions with more knowing eyes.
Jerrol made sure no one outside of the Scholars knew where he was, and those who did assumed he was another scholar hidden amongst the influx of new faces. The Sentinals, especially Serillion and Tagerill, explored the Chapterhouse in horror. Serillion had reached the point where he was openly wringing his hands, appalled at all the lost knowledge. Tagerill tended to sit up in the bell tower and mourn the loss of the Vespers he knew and loved. Birlerion, when not arguing with Taelia, was usually a shadow behind his shoulder. A reassuring presence, and one he was getting used to.
Torsion followed the Sentinals around, trying to sq
ueeze every piece of information out of them, awed by the living history before him. Birlerion watched him with suspicion, warning the other Sentinals to be careful what they told him. Tagerill and Serillion listened to Birlerion’s doubts and shrugged them off; just because Torsion reminded him of an ancient foe didn’t make him one, and besides the Captain trusted him. The Sentinals were more interested in learning about the new Vespiri and asked Torsion as many questions in return.
It was some weeks later when Jerrol sighed with frustration; they were getting nowhere. There was nothing noteworthy in the archives. He wondered what was buried beneath their feet and wished the scholars would hurry up. He found their rigid procedures stifling. He needed action.
Seated in the Chapterhouse library, he was idly flipping through an early book on the Lady’s administration when Torsion found him. “Here you are, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
“Why?” Jerrol asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That Sentinal of yours, Birlerion. He is being difficult. He won’t answer any of my questions, yet he was the one here in Vespers. He knew the Lady and Guerlaire.”
“They all knew the Lady and Guerlaire.”
“I know, but every time I ask about something, the others say, speak to Birlerion, he’ll know more. This Birlerion was closer than the others, from what I can make out; he was special.”
“In what way?”
“He travelled widely, on behalf of the Lady, yet he is so young – what did she see in him? And at the end, she kept him near her, and sent the others out into the Watches. Why?”
“I suppose she must have trusted him.”
“Or maybe she didn’t. But why him? And not Guerlaire? He could tell us, but he won’t. He won’t talk to me about anything. I think he’s hiding something.”
Jerrol laughed. “I’m sure he is. How would you feel being awoken three thousand years in your future? You wouldn’t want to share everything about yourself now, would you? Just think what they’ve lost – would you want to talk about it?”
“I’m telling you, Jerrol; you need to be careful. He is hiding something, and until we know what it is, he is a threat.”
“Rubbish, he’s a Lady’s guard, a Sentinal. He’s here to do her bidding, and so far that is what he has done. Just because he won’t talk to you doesn’t mean I can’t trust him.”
“He let Isseran escape. Doesn’t that make you suspicious?”
“No, he didn’t. The King’s Guards let him escape. They didn’t follow his instructions. I was there when he told them to keep his eyes covered.”
Torsion snorted. “We’ve known each other for years, Jerrol. I’ve looked out for you since you were a kid. I only want what is best for you. You are family. You followed my advice then; you should heed it now. Take care, Jerrol, there is much about these Sentinals you don’t know.”
“And over time we will learn more. Don’t rush them, Torsion. We have to earn their trust as much they earn ours. They need time to adjust. They report to me. They will obey my orders; for now, that is enough.”
“I hope so, Jerrol, for your sake. Speak to Birlerion. We need to know what he knows. Don’t leave it too long, or we may all regret it.”
Jerrol watched his friend stride out of the library: dark, tall and slim, his robes billowing around him. He frowned as he remembered the Lady’s words: “There is one I cannot see, the deceiver, watch for him, my Captain.” No, it couldn’t be Birlerion, he had taken a sword for him. Birlerion wouldn’t have tried to save him if he were a traitor, would he? He had protected Jerrol ever since he stepped out of his tree. Jerrol trusted him with his life. He trusted all his Sentinals.
He shivered. They would need them if they were going to save Remargaren from this Ascendant threat. First, he needed to understand what being the Lady’s Captain meant, then to find out how to seal the Veil, and after that he needed to discover who the Ascendants were and how to stop them.
He heaved a deep sigh as he stared across the room. He rubbed his temples, trying to relieve his growing headache. Maybe Torsion was right; he ought to find out more about the Sentinals. He would speak to Birlerion first.
Somehow, he knew his problems were only just beginning. The Ascendants had inveigled their way into the Watches unseen, and they had nearly succeeded in overthrowing the King. He was sure they wouldn’t stop there. Whatever it was they were planning, the Lady expected him to stop them. He clenched his left fist; he had two more crystals to find. Standing, he glanced around. He had better get on with it, then.
The End
Acknowledgements
If it wasn’t for my mother, Margaret, instilling in me a love of books, I would never be writing these words today. I wish I had started writing earlier so I could have shared this moment with her because I know she would have loved my characters and the world they inhabit.
I am thankful for my darling daughter, Jennifer, who encouraged me to take the step and self-publish, and go social, and build a website, and take to twitter.
A big thank you goes to my beta readers, Mike Wall and my number one fan, Michael Strick, for reading my early versions and providing detailed and thoughtful feedback, and even putting down Game of Thrones to read Sentinals Awaken. I appreciate the time and effort you took to read and think about what I had written, and the suggestions you had on how I could improve it.
To my very dear friend Kaye Adams, who patiently listened to me go on and on about characters, names, plot, and the vagaries of the English language when our crafting evening turned into a writer's discussion group. Thank you for being my sounding board and for your constant support and encouragement.
Jeff Brown designed my beautiful cover, (https://www.jeffbrowngraphics.com) and Tom from FictiveDesigns (https://www.fictive-designs.com/maps) drew the exquisite map of Vespiri.
I hope you enjoy reading Sentinals Awaken as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I look forward to continuing the adventure with you in my second novel, Sentinals Rising, which hopefully will arrive in 2021.
Letter from the Author
It’s funny how all the major events in my life happen at the same time. I graduated from university, got married and started a new job all in the same month. My daughter was born just after we moved into a new house. It seems I need a perfect storm of events to take the next the step.
When my mother passed away four years ago, and my daughter headed off to university, I suddenly had an empty house and time on my hands, and I finally sat down and wrote. The ideas came tumbling out, and there was my first book.
My love of books came from my mum, Margaret. She was voracious, consuming a wide range of books of varied genres. She would sit and knit, watch the telly and read a book, all at the same time. As a child, I inherited the bookworm, though I never picked up the knack of knitting! I devoured Enid Blyton, Elinor Brent Dyer’s Chalet School books and moved onto Mary Stewart and Alistair McLean and then we found Anne McCaffrey and then David Eddings, to name a few.
Sentinals Awaken is the first novel in what I originally intended being a trilogy, and although the first three novels fit together, there are another four books with the same characters and world, so I hope you enjoyed the first in the series and stay for the journey. You can follow my progress and find out more about the next book, Sentinals Rising, at www.helengarraway.com.
If you would like to stay up to date with news and book availability then please sign up to my mailing list on the above website for a periodic newsletter. I promise I won’t bombard you. I prefer to be writing!
If you have a moment please do leave a review and tell other fantasy readers why you enjoyed the book. Reviews are so important to independent authors to drive visibility and to help me to continue publishing. Thank you so much!
Thank you for your support.
Helen Garraway
October 2020
Amazon direct review links:
UK: Amazon.co.uk/review/create-review?&asin=B08JQJZKKC
USA: A
mazon.com/review/create-review?&asin=B08JQJZKKC
CANADA: Amazon.ca/review/create-review?&asin=B08JQJZKKC
Other Books in the series
One: Sentinals Awaken
Two: Sentinal Rising (to be published)
Three: Sentinals Justice (to be published)
Sentinals Awaken: Book One of the Sentinals Series Page 32
