Farrell pursed his lips and ran his hand through his hair. The responding twinge in his back added to his irritation. ‘So you read my intentions, what I need to know is can you help me?’
‘Help you control your magic? Yes. Help to ease your conscience about your decision? I don’t know… I cannot sense the island.’
The words were like a boot in the guts. ‘I need clarity,’ Farrell said quietly, clenching his fists under the table.
Buck reached forward and laid a wrinkled hand on Farrell’s shoulder. The unexpected gesture surprised him and he saw Allisus tense, his annoyance at the imposition clear. Farrell waved him down.
Buck slowly removed his hand. ‘I’m willing to try to help you. Maybe if I could get closer to the island.’
‘You’re suggesting boarding our ship,’ Allisus said, turning his incredulous look to Farrell. ‘The crew won’t like it, Commander.’
Farrell turned the options over in his mind. ‘It’s worth a try.’ He turned to Buck. ‘You must swear to hold your tongue and pledge allegiance to me. But know this, I may not be skilled at disguising my thoughts, but I can tell if you are lying to me.’
‘I understand, Commander.’ He nodded solemnly. ‘I wasn’t always a hermit, you know. Once upon a time, my life was very different. I still care for our people, even if they don’t care for me.’ Buck stood up from the table and faced Farrell. Then he knelt on creaking joints at Farrell’s feet. He bowed low, offering his neck. ‘I swear my allegiance and my silence to you, Commander Farrell. I promise to help you in any way I can.’
‘Thank you.’ Farrell grasped Buck’s hand and helped the old man to his feet. ‘We leave in five days.’
Buck nodded, made his excuses and left.
When the old hermit was gone, Allisus leant in close over the table. ‘I’m sorry. I thought he could help you.’
‘He will.’ Farrell smiled. ‘He was genuine, I could tell.’
‘You mean you really intend for him to sail with us?’
‘Of course.’
‘If anyone finds out you need the help of magic, you’re inviting mutiny.’
Farrell pursed his lips. ‘Then let’s ensure they don’t find out.’
Allisus’ brow wrinkled with concern. ‘What will you tell the crew?’
Farrell smiled wickedly at his first mate. ‘I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll come up with a suitable story.’
Allisus grimaced. ‘Yes, Commander.’
‘Here, take this to sweeten your mood.’ Farrell tossed a sack of Leila’s spiced biscuits to the old man.
Allisus relaxed into a smile. ‘Buying my compliance, what would the crew say?’
‘What indeed?’ Farrell grinned.
***
Brogan had chosen a seat at the back of the hall. He squeezed the chair arms, his whole body tense and at odds with the excited atmosphere in the room. He’d sat through days of the trial, biting his lip while the four badly beaten exiles had endured the farce of their hearing. Not once had they looked in his direction, though he willed them to acknowledge him, for them to know someone in the room full of hatred cared about their fate.
The last person had spoken and everyone waited for the final announcement. While Luth counted the votes, Rathnor conferred with his advisors. No one really doubted the outcome, but he still made a show of going through the formalities.
Rathnor read the slip of paper Luth passed him, then stood and faced the hall as he smoothed down his shirt and straightened his sleeves. ‘The votes agree these men are guilty of the crimes of multiple murder. We sentence the four accused to death by hanging. Their punishment will be carried out at daybreak tomorrow.’
The room erupted in cheers. Brogan watched the Assembly’s self-appointed leader, wishing he could smash the smug look from Rathnor’s face. He fought to keep his expression neutral, an impossible task when surrounded by his peers as they celebrated the travesty of justice.
The guards led the prisoners back to their cell, and the townsfolk permitted to attend the trial booed and jeered until they were out of sight.
Today, the hall seemed to take forever to clear of people. Brogan hung back, catching Rathnor’s eye.
The senior Assembly member smiled at him, a slow self-gratifying smile that made Brogan’s blood burn with loathing.
Rathnor dismissed the last few hangers-on and finally the room emptied.
Brogan approached him, forcing himself to stay calm. ‘What was the point of this?’
‘What exactly are you referring to?’ Rathnor asked.
‘Let’s dispense with the lies. It’s just the two of us here and we both know those men are innocent. Why the charade?’
‘Innocent? How can you say they’re innocent? They’re exiles, they use magic…’
‘But they didn’t kill the young woman or her family, did they?’
‘You were at the trial, Brogan. You didn’t say a word in their defence.’
Brogan took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. ‘What gives you the right to decide those men should die?’
‘But I didn’t decide,’ Rathnor said with a grin. ‘The Assembly did.’
‘I saw you pay off the witness.’ Brogan waited to see a hint of guilt or concern in Rathnor’s eyes but there wasn’t the faintest show of surprise. ‘You concocted this whole thing, didn’t you? Well, it stops now. Call it off before I tell everyone the truth about you and your secret meetings.’
‘Oh, Brogan, you’re such a naïve fool. Go ahead and tell the rest of the Assembly what you think you know. You have no proof. It would be your word against mine. I wonder who they’ll believe.’
‘This is wrong; you’re corrupting good people.’
Rathnor’s grin deepened. ‘See you at the hanging tomorrow, Brogan.’ He sauntered towards the doors, but paused and turned back. ‘And don’t expect any daring rescues this time. I’m ordering the town locked down. No one gets in, or out.’
Brogan watched him go, then kicked the nearest table and cursed.
***
Tei saw Hafender heading into Jander’s tavern. She’d seen the look on his face and felt an instant jolt of unease. She followed him inside and spotted him sitting in a corner. Tei decided to approach him even though everyone else seemed to be avoiding him.
‘Captain Hafender.’
He looked up at her, surprised. ‘Oh, hello, Tei. Join me for a drink.’ He didn’t leave her any room to argue as he waved her into a seat and indicated to Jander to bring over an extra cup.
It was only just past midday, but Tei could see the captain had something on his mind.
‘Thank you for sticking up for me,’ she said. ‘Thal said you’d offered me a place on your team.’
‘You’re a good mystic. I didn’t want to see the Elders force you into marriage.’ He nodded thanks to Jander as the tavern owner set a jug of cider and two tankards on the table between them.
‘But then maybe I’m wrong.’ Hafender shrugged and poured the drinks before staring morosely into his tankard.
‘No, I’m glad you spoke to Thal. And though I don’t want another protector after Undren’s murder, at least I know there is another option open to me.’
‘There’s always another option; you don’t have to follow their rules. If you don’t want to marry and don’t want a protector, follow what you deem is right.’
The captain downed his entire tankard and belched. Then he sighed heavily.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked tentatively. He didn’t answer. ‘Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help?’
Hafender fixed her with his gaze and she read the sadness in his eyes. ‘I’m afraid our friends are beyond anyone’s help this time.’
‘What do you mean?’
He rolled the empty tankard between his hands and she wondered if he would answer. ‘We’ve just had word that Makner’s team were captured by the Assembly and put on trial for the murder of Callisa and her parents. They were found guilty and
hang tomorrow.’
‘But how, why?’
‘Because the Assembly is corrupt. They’re framing innocent people for the Masked Riders’ crimes. No one can stand up against them. And I must sit back whilst innocent men, my friends, are murdered in the name of justice.’
‘No, this is wrong. Someone has to stop this. Surely...’
Hafender lay a hand across hers and met her eye across the table.
‘It isn’t like before. They won’t allow us the chance to interfere.’ He slumped back in his seat and refilled his drink. ‘They hang tomorrow and no one can help them.’
Tei thought of Brogan, unable to believe he could have been party to such lies.
Hafender gulped his drink and then slammed the tankard down on the table. ‘The worst thing is I handpicked those teams. I sent them out to spread the Sentinel’s word and I filled their heads with what a superb opportunity this was to unite the people of Kalaya. I set them up for this. My best men teamed up with the new recruits. I thought this was a simple and safe task. How wrong could I have been?’
Tei listened to him and drank her own share of the cider. ‘Can’t the Sentinel do anything?’
‘I’ve spent the morning with her. Believe me, Tei, if there was something either of us could think of to save these men, we would have acted upon it.’ He looked at her again and seemed to consider something. ‘She’s very upset. Maybe you should speak to her.’
‘I don’t know what help I could offer.’
He didn’t question her words though Tei longed to open up to someone and admit how she struggled with her role as Confidante. How could she give guidance or comfort to someone who refused to listen to anything she had to say?
‘I’m sorry to be such bad company.’ He downed his drink and poured the last dregs from the jug into his tankard. ‘I plan to drink myself into oblivion and hope I can live with myself tomorrow when my men are dead. You’re welcome to join me.’
Tei shook her head and stood. ‘I don’t think that would be fitting behaviour for the Confidante.’
He laughed and waved her away. As she moved to leave, she squeezed his shoulder and leant low to whisper in his ear. ‘I know it won’t help, but Rike and Garrick will save their spirits from the Soul Eater. That’s the best we can do for them now.’
Tei walked away, feeling the weight of Hafender’s suffering follow her. She hardly knew these men, but the injustice of their sentencing ate at her as she tried to carry on with her day. She wanted to reach out to Callisa, but the Sentinel was silent, their link as cold and dead as it had been before they met. Sometimes Tei wondered if it would have been better if it had stayed that way.
***
It was a chill, but clear morning as Brogan watched the four prisoners being led out into the market square. He stood amongst the crowd of townsfolk, rather than the Assembly, unable to stomach being a part of the deceit.
The crowd were surprisingly sombre as they watched the prisoners mount the platform.
Each man, two of them barely into adulthood, stood beneath a loop of rope. The hooded hangman moved along the line, testing each knot before tightening the nooses around the prisoners’ necks. He stepped back and signalled to Rathnor that everything was ready.
The crowd waited with an expectant hush.
Brogan looked along the line of doomed men, realising he didn’t even know their names. None of them had been named in the trial. No families would be informed; they were just four unfortunate exiles caught up in Rathnor’s plans.
The Assembly leader gave the signal; there was no big speech or gloating exhibition. The masked hangman pulled a lever and the trapdoors on the platform opened.
They fell through the short drop, ropes snapping taut around their throats. The prisoners dangled, choking and convulsing as the nooses suffocated away their lives.
Silence filled the packed market square and then, as the prisoners stopped moving, the first cheer rang out.
Brogan’s throat constricted, but he firmed his jaw and shut down his emotions as he moved back through the crowd. He’d shown his face, played his role, now he needed to escape.
Rathnor spotted him and hailed him across the square. Gritting his teeth, Brogan switched directions and headed towards the senior Assembly member and his troop of lackeys. Lawman Jarance rushed off as Brogan reached them.
‘It seems you were right to want to delay the hangings, Brogan.’ Rathnor offered his most patronising smile. ‘We’ve received news that the witness was killed last night. The exiles have an accomplice in town, so we must set up an investigation to find this traitor.’ He emphasised the word traitor and held Brogan’s gaze longer than necessary, before leading the Assembly party away.
Brogan stared after them in stunned silence. He should have been expecting Rathnor to kill off the fake witness to cover his tracks. The witness had sealed the death warrant of four men with his lies, and now his death could see Brogan swing as an accomplice if Rathnor chose to follow through with the unspoken threat.
He decided to take the deeds of the farm to Drago and Verda. The papers had been in his pocket almost a week. It was time to stop putting off the inevitable. Once the farm was off his hands, he would focus on getting word to Tei about Rathnor. He owed the dead men that.
***
The black sweeping cloud of death swamped the four unsuspecting spirits. They were drowning in it, suffocated by it.
Garrick fought it valiantly, his sword chopping at the black mass but making little impact. The murky tendrils of blackness trailing after the Soul Eater were dangerously close to ensnaring the protector’s spirit.
Rike battled beside his friend, but he could see it was a fight they could never win. As the Soul Eater swallowed the four helpless spirits, Rike attempted to pull Garrick back from the fray.
Garrick’s sword continued to hack and cleave through the air, heedless of his own safety.
‘Garrick, leave it!’ Rike shouted, struggling to reach through the battle rage consuming his friend.
‘But we have to help them. It’s Makner and...’
Rike grabbed Garrick and held him back, every fibre of his spirit straining against Garrick’s strength. ‘No, it’s too late. Listen to me, Garrick, they’re gone.’
‘But I promised the Sentinel...’ He sagged back, the fight in him disappearing.
‘There’s nothing more you can do, I’m sorry.’
Garrick pushed Rike away and then watched the black shadow of the Soul Eater slink through the mist and vanish.
‘What now? Do we let it win?’
‘No, this is just one battle, Garrick. We can’t lose hope now.’
‘But they’re dead.’
‘I know, and it wanted you to follow. They were the bait to lure us into its trap.’
‘I don’t care what it was planning, they were my friends. I can’t believe you accept their deaths so easily.’
Rike could only shake his head in reply and Garrick stormed away, losing himself in the mists.
The guilt ate at Rike, but he knew he was right. Losing her Spirit Guides would only make the Sentinel weaker and the enemy stronger. Cursing, he went in search of Callisa.
***
‘Sentinel.’
Rike reached out to her and Callisa moved swiftly to meet him. ‘Rike, how did it go?’ She asked, though she could see by the dark shade of his aura that he was deeply unhappy.
‘The four exiles are dead, Sentinel. I’m sorry we couldn’t save their spirits.’
She sensed the sadness in the Spirit Guide. ‘Makner was a friend of yours.’ She didn’t need his nod of confirmation; the truth was in his eyes.
‘The Soul Eater was waiting; poor Makner didn’t have a chance.’
‘It’s not your fault, Rike.’
His expression twisted with remorse.
‘It’s not your guilt to carry, let it go.’
He studied her face. ‘It’s not your fault either.’
She blinked back tea
rs. ‘Somehow we have to step back from our emotions and not linger on the injustice of every death that befalls our people. We have to be strong and be ready to fight the Soul Eater.’
‘Spoken like a true Sentinel,’ Rike said.
She stared at him but there was no mockery in his words. He bowed before her. ‘I never had the chance to serve you in life, but I’m honoured to serve you in the afterlife. I’ll do all I can to help you defeat the Soul Eater.’
‘Thank you, Rike. I’m grateful to you; I know what you gave up to be here, I’m sorry it was necessary.’ She felt the warmth of his spirit, and wished she’d known him before any of this had happened.
‘Tei wants to help you,’ Rike said, catching her off guard.
'I know... I just find it hard to ask so much of her.’
‘But you need each other.’
Callisa nodded and prepared to leave the Astral Plane, but she paused and looked at the Spirit Guide. ‘You’re doing a valuable job, Rike.’
‘As are you, Sentinel.’ His solemn words followed her back to her body.
Callisa opened her eyes and shook the life back into her tired limbs. Then she walked to the window and looked down at the settlement. From up here the magic of Kalaya sang to her, washing over her, but it couldn’t dispel the persistent fear of failure that dogged her shadow. Today was proof of what happened when she got it wrong.
She moved to one of the large chairs by the fire and curled up in it. The fire sparked to life and she drew comfort from the bright flames. Much needed sleep tried to claim her and, for once, she gave up fighting and closed her eyes.
Callisa dreamt of a man. His handsome features were familiar, but she couldn’t put a name to his face. She watched as he climbed up the wooden steps of a platform and a man in a mask tightened a rope around his neck. Even as she realised what was happening, the trap door beneath his feet opened and he fell through with a savage snap. The crowd cheered. ‘Traitor! The traitor’s dead!’
She turned away from the dead man and hovered above the crowd. Many were armed and dressed for battle. Some kind of war was coming and the fearful realisation chased her back to wakefulness.
The Sentinel's Reign Page 6