The Sentinel's Reign

by Suzanne Rogerson

  Farrell doubled over as though a sword ripped through his insides. Struggling to breathe through the pain, he clutched at his stomach, expecting to feel blood on his fingers. The pain grew, spreading to his chest, and he couldn’t breathe.

  Rathnor came in for a second attack. There was nothing he could do, no way to defend himself. Farrell screwed his eyes shut and turned his thoughts inward, pushing his mind away from the pain. His magic responded, drawing his spirit free. Terrified, Farrell found himself looking down at his unconscious body.

  His Kalayan contact stopped the advance and faced Farrell, spirit to spirit. A slow smile spread across Rathnor’s face. That was easier than I expected.

  Farrell looked back down at his body sprawled across the desk. He couldn’t reach it, couldn’t feel it at all. His spirit battered against an invisible obstacle, but there was no way through. His panic dissolved into understanding as Rathnor’s laughter filled his ears.

  You may have killed me, but you haven’t won.

  Oh, you’re not dead. Rathnor sneered at him. You wouldn’t be much use to me dead.

  Farrell looked down at his body in the ship’s cabin, held at bay by one of Rathnor’s spells. Now he could feel the complex workings, too intricate for his base knowledge of magic to comprehend.

  Watch and learn. Rathnor disappeared, leaving Farrell to float above his own body.

  He strained to get his spirit closer, finding control enough to hover above the desk. Suddenly his body sat up.

  Farrell cried out in alarm and flung himself backwards.

  The body slowly looked up at him, an ugly grin twisting the features. Rathnor’s spirit looked out through Farrell’s eyes.

  No, you bastard. No! Farrell yelled.

  He flew at himself, his spirit pounding ineffectually against the spell. The body below him stood up and walked to the door. Farrell watched helplessly as his body left the cabin and climbed the steps out into the sunshine.

  Understanding hit Farrell with a terrible, sickening jolt. Then, as an unwilling spectator, Farrell found himself following his body as it strutted up to the quarterdeck and leant over the rail. Every member of the crew waited in avid silence. The only noise to break the spell was the shrill cry of the gulls and the gentle lapping of the sea against the ship’s hull.

  Farrell strained against his bindings, giving one last attempt to stop Rathnor.

  ‘Weigh the anchor and prepare the sails. We’re about to win ourselves a new home.’ Rathnor’s words carried strong and true in Farrell’s voice.

  Cheers rang through the air, drowning out Farrell’s screamed denial.

  The false commander stood amongst them, soaking up their adoration, before making a victorious retreat.

  Allisus hurried after him, his faithful first mate looking concerned.

  ‘What’s going on, Commander? You were about to order us home.’

  Rathnor rounded on the old man, his murderous intent radiating from Farrell’s face.

  ‘How dare you doubt me!’ He prodded a finger into Allisus’ chest. ‘Question my orders again and I’ll have you flogged to within an inch of your life.’

  Allisus stepped back, almost stumbling as the cabin door slammed shut in his face.

  Farrell hovered above his first mate. ‘I wish you could help me, old friend.’

  A dizzying sickness pulled at Farrell, sucking his spirit towards his body.

  Inside the locked cabin, he found himself once more inert at his desk. Farrell battered against the spell holding him powerless and pathetic. Then Rathnor’s spirit joined him.

  Did you enjoy the show?

  You evil bastard, release me.

  Rathnor laughed the assured laugh of someone who had already won. I will release you back to your body, but only if you continue to do my bidding.

  Farrell faced the spirit of the man, no longer an ally but his enemy, and refused to answer.

  I own you. Is that not a fair price to pay for the life I’m offering your people? Is it not too heavy a burden to bear for the sake of your family?

  And if I refuse?

  You won’t refuse me, Farrell. You’ve seen what I’m capable of doing. Buck was an old man with a weak heart, but Leila, she’s strong. I’ll enjoy crushing her spirit. The unborn child will be an added bonus. Then of course there’s little Fynn, I doubt he’ll put up much fight.

  Leave my family alone!

  Do my bidding, Commander, and they will be unharmed. Rathnor’s spirit turned dark. Defy me and you won’t be the one suffering the consequences.

  The anger died on Farrell’s lips and he found himself nodding to Rathnor’s demands.

  The spell holding him prisoner abated and he found his way back to his body. He didn’t move, but lay with his head cradled against the pitted desk, slowly allowing his awareness to return. There was still a part of the spell in place, binding him to his word.

  You’re mine now, Farrell. But, if you still have a mind to resist, know that I can take back control of your body any time I choose and leave you a homeless spirit.

  Rathnor left Farrell with the poisonous words echoing in his ears.

  Chapter Thirty

  Tei woke up cold and aching from her slumped position in the chair. It took a few moments to remember where she was. As she sat up, she spotted Callisa sprawled face down on the cold stone floor by her feet.

  Tei rolled the Sentinel over and cradled Callisa’s head in her lap. She was breathing but her skin was snowy-white and clammy.

  ‘Callisa,’ she called softly and stroked the Sentinel’s cheek, but there was no response.

  Tei remained in the uncomfortable position, not knowing what to do. There was a change in the air, but her dulled senses couldn’t pinpoint the wrongness. All she could do was sit and wait for the Sentinel to wake. Hours seemed to pass in silent unknowing misery, before Callisa’s eyelids finally fluttered open. Her fingers briefly curled around Tei’s and she groaned.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  Callisa slowly shook her head.

  Tei bit back the questions desperate to spill from her tongue as she helped Callisa into the chair and covered her with a blanket. Then she made a restorative tisane from the herb pot by the fire and helped her friend to sip it. Slowly Callisa’s colour returned.

  Tei forced a biscuit into Callisa’s shaking hands, and watched over her as she dutifully nibbled the corner.

  Time lapsed and Tei paced with impatience. Finally, she could take the silence no longer. ‘What happened?’ she asked, sitting next to Callisa.

  The question drew Callisa from her thoughts and she met Tei’s gaze.

  ‘It’s over.’ Her voice was croaky and she licked her dry lips before taking another sip of her drink. ‘The barrier’s gone. I don’t have the strength to restore it. I tried so hard, but the damage to the magic is too great.’

  Tei shivered and hugged herself. ‘What about the commander? Did the old man get your message to him?’

  Callisa exhaled a long, drawn out sigh. ‘The old man’s dead and the commander is now under Rathnor’s control. He has no mind to stop the invasion. They’re preparing to sail into the Bay of Hope as we speak.’

  ‘There must be another way. Gather the Elders; let’s talk this through with them.’

  ‘It’s too late. There’s no stopping Rathnor now.’ Callisa hung her head.

  Tei’s anger rose - a deep, dark anger more primal than she’d thought possible. Her resolve returned, her sense of purpose blinding in its clarity. She was the Confidante; she had to help the Sentinel overcome her despair. There had been too many deaths, too many lives sacrificed already. She would see Rathnor defeated even if she had to walk into the enemy camp and slay him with her own sword.

  Tei reached across and squeezed Callisa’s shoulder, trying not to register the bony flesh.

  ‘We’ll find a way. I promise.’

  Callisa looked up at her with pity. Tei had to look away, before her courage fled in the face of such despa
ir.

  ***

  Rathnor pulled aside the tent flap and stepped inside. He waved away his bodyguards and, as soon as they were out the way, he flopped into his chair. He closed his eyes and his spirit soared from his body. He headed straight for the bay and arrived in time to watch Farrell’s ships sail into view.

  Rathnor hovered above the Bay of Hope watching Farrell’s fleet of ships line up and drop anchor. They moved quickly, lowering their rowing boats and sailing for shore, while the few witnesses on land fled in terror. He picked out Farrell sitting in the lead boat, his face a stern mask. Beside him sat the old man Rathnor remembered threatening to flog. Now he looked at his commander with wary eyes, keeping his lips pursed shut as if too afraid to speak.

  Glad to see you’re sticking to our bargain, Farrell. Rathnor felt the commander flinch. Your wife and children are safe; this is a friendly reminder not to speak to anyone about this, including that nosy first mate of yours.

  Farrell glared at the old man, and then turned to scowl at the rest of the crew in the rowing boat. Rathnor saw the tension and fear in the men.

  Very good, but an occasional smile would do wonders for morale. After all, you are leading your people to a new and better life.

  Piss off, Farrell said, his words dripping with venom.

  Rathnor laughed and broke the connection, satisfied Farrell would follow the planned course.

  He returned to his body and took a moment to reflect on his recent victories, unsure which of them he’d enjoyed the most, breaking the young Sentinel, or his control over the good commander.

  Thinking of the Sentinel, Rathnor prodded at the island magic and felt its weakness, how it leeched away the girl’s strength in a bid to survive. Soon, he’d be strong enough to seize the island’s power from her. As he made his plans, Rathnor felt the unwelcome presence of someone outside his tent.

  ‘Rathnor, sir,’ the young lad called through the thin door flap, his voice strained with nerves.

  ‘Enter,’ he shouted, adopting a bored expression.

  The messenger hovered by the tent entrance, looking awkward. ‘I apologise for the interruption, sir, but the Assembly are having problems with some of the men. They aren’t happy storming the pass; they say it’s costing too many lives.’

  ‘This is war, what do they expect?’ Rathnor rose to his feet and paced the tent. ‘We’re fighting to free ourselves from the corruption of the exiles’ magic. A few lives sacrificed in battle is nothing compared to the damage we would suffer if they were allowed to go free.’

  The young lackey nodded, emphatically. ‘Maybe you could speak with the men, sir.’

  Rathnor forced himself to take a thoughtful pause. ‘Tell the Assembly to arrange an immediate meeting with all the troops. Once I’ve spoken to them, they’ll be lining up to take the pass.’

  Looking purposeful, the messenger disappeared outside.

  ‘Fools,’ Rathnor said under his breath and smiled.

  ***

  Thal rushed through the valley towards the mountains and looked up at the Sentinel’s hidden room, wondering if the cause of his uneasy feeling emanated from there.

  He bumped into Tei as she was leaving the tunnels and noted the wild-eyed stare of the Confidante.

  ‘Tei, is everything alright?’

  She shook her head, looking pale and unsteady. Thal grabbed her arm and looked into her glazed eyes, realising she was in shock.

  ‘Callisa sent me to get some air,’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Do you need help? Shall I call someone?’

  She shook her head again. ‘Call a meeting, Thal.’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘Yes, we need to get the Elders together.’ She glanced up at the mountains and then squeezed her eyes shut. ‘The barrier is down and the Sentinel needs our support.’

  She hurried away and Thal watched her, dumbstruck.

  The foreboding that had driven him towards the mountains finally made sense, and as he cast out his consciousness he realised Tei was right - the magical barrier surrounding the island was gone.

  Hilda. He reached out to her. We need to gather all the Elders now.

  She agreed without a word, but her fear was easy to read when it mirrored his own.

  For the first time in a few hundred years, Kalaya was barrier-less and vulnerable, with an army of raiders at their shore.

  ***

  ‘Tei!’

  She turned back and saw Assis hobbling towards her from the infirmary. He was using a stick to help him walk, much the same as the one Ellas had used a few weeks before.

  Tei quickly dabbed away tears on her sleeve and waited for him to catch her up.

  ‘Just the person.’ He grinned and gave her a hug.

  She attempted a smile. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I’ve been granted permission to explore the settlement and you’re the perfect person to show me your home.’

  ‘It’s really not the right time.’

  ‘Come on, Tei. You can spare an old friend a few minutes.’

  She looked around the valley and then back at the mountains. Thal would still be organising the Elders’ meeting, there was nothing pressing to occupy her time other than relive the horror of the barrier falling.

  ‘I don’t have long before the Sentinel needs me again.’

  ‘Then you’d best start the tour.’

  As they walked slowly, Assis’ movements restricted by his limp, Tei told him about the life of an exile. She pointed out the meeting hall, the tavern, and the stables. Everywhere was deserted. ‘It used to be a bustling, happy place.’

  ‘I can see how rewarding life would be if we weren’t at war. This is the sort of place I’d like to live and raise a family.’

  ‘You’re carpentry skills would be valued in Turrak, I’m sure you could make a wonderful life here.’

  He looked thoughtful as he continued hobbling along.

  Tei pictured Brogan as he’d headed off to the pass. Her heart lurched with fear and she tried to close her mind to the possibility of his death.

  She coughed to clear her throat. ‘How’s your friend Mateu?’

  Assis smiled. ‘Still in pain, but they said he will recover. He lost the eye of course, and will have a nasty scar, but he’s talking rationally and has stopped believing everyone wants to kill him.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  They walked a little further and then sat by the lake and watched the ducks. Tei thought how funny it was that nature could carry on as normal while the human world tore itself apart.

  ‘So how are Saska and her family?’

  ‘Which family?’ Assis grinned at Tei’s confused expression.

  ‘Do you mean...’

  He nodded enthusiastically. ‘I finally proposed.’

  ‘Congratulations, Assis. I’m so happy for you both.’

  ‘We were married six months ago...’ He glowed as he talked about the wedding and then grimaced as he recalled asking Saska’s father. ‘I’d rather have faced a sword than ask him, but now look at what we face.’ His mood sobered as they spotted injured men escorted back towards the pass by armed exiles.

  ‘I joined because I wanted to ensure we would raise our children in a safe world. Now I find I’ve been fighting for a lie.’

  Tei looked around the settlement. She felt the magic, or lack of it. Not a visible change, but the aura of the magic was different, as though it was dissolving. She glanced up at the mountains where she knew Callisa waited and felt her resolve returning.

  ‘Assis, you have seen the truth. Others will too.’

  ‘Some of us have, but how is that enough?’

  Tei gripped his hand. ‘We each do what we can, however small. We’re still making a difference.’

  They set off back towards the infirmary.

  Assis struggled up the slope. ‘It was easier coming down hill.’ He stopped to rest his injured leg. There was sweat on his brow and his expression looked pained.

  ‘Why don
’t you rest here and catch your breath? I need to get back to the Sentinel.’

  He caught her arm before she could leave. ‘What you said has made me realise that I want to stay in Turrak. I want to talk to the injured people and make them see we’ve been tricked into believing the exiles are a threat. Here I can show them the truth.’

  ‘That’s exactly what we need.’ Tei hugged him and then bid him goodbye. ‘If only it wasn’t too little, too late,’ she added to herself as she walked away, picturing the invading ships sailing into Kalaya’s bay.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Brogan heard the horn and watched as the attackers retreated. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sheathed his sword and waited for the battleground to clear before leaving his post. All around him, defenders were quick to take advantage of the break: resting, snacking or cleaning their weapons. The runners gathered the fallen arrows and lost swords, before heaping the enemy dead outside the pass.

  Brogan spotted Ellas still standing in his battle position, looking out at the enemy camp. He moved next to his friend and clapped him on the back.

  ‘You holding up?’ he asked.

  Ellas looked at him with a grim smile, his eyes not brightening with the motion. Then he cleaned the fresh blood from his sword.

  ‘I wonder why they’ve retreated,’ Brogan said.

  Ellas sheathed his blade and sat down on one of the nearby boulders. He looked stiff, the wound in his thigh still healing. Brogan joined him, wishing he could cheer him up. He had a sudden memory of his friend earlier in the battle, his blade deflecting the enemy’s swords and pushing back an advance single-handed.

  ‘Who’d have thought after all those years hidden away on the Assembly that you would turn out to be a talented swordsman?’

  ‘It’s not a skill I’m proud of,’ Ellas said with a grimace. ‘I killed farmers today. They shouldn’t even be here; their place is tending the land, providing food for the people.’

  ‘None of us should be here,’ Brogan said. ‘Why don’t you take a step back for a while; I can see that injured leg is still hurting you.’

  Ellas’ scowl deepened and his nostrils flared. ‘I’m not a coward, Brogan. I may have acted like one in the past, but I’m not walking away now, not again.’