The Sentinel's Reign

by Suzanne Rogerson

  Brogan nodded, sad to see how much the fighting had changed his friend.

  They watched the enemy camp in silence, seeing the people converging together. ‘This is more of Rathnor’s mind games,’ Brogan said.

  ‘Be grateful for the reprieve.’ Ellas rubbed a weary hand down his face.

  Brogan shook his head. ‘No, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I’m going up for a better look.’

  He headed to the wall of the pass and looked for a good point to climb. He saluted Captain Jaym, who gave him permission to join his men.

  Brogan scaled the difficult rock face with ease, waving greeting to the archers who watched his progress. Some of them were the men he’d served with in the seemingly blissful days before the war began.

  When he was high enough to look out at the enemy encampment, Brogan picked his way along the narrow path to the front for a better view of the mass gathering.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, knowing the watchman he addressed had the best eyesight of all of Captain Jaym’s men.

  The watchman studied the scene. ‘Looks like the entire camp is gathering around one man. He’s giving a speech; I can feel the subtle touch of his magic at work. His tongue is more dangerous than any sword.’

  ‘That’ll be Rathnor.’ Brogan scowled.

  ‘He’s talking them into dying.’

  Cheers and chants reached their ears. ‘It seems to be working,’ Brogan said.

  The battle horn sounded from below. Brogan swallowed hard as he saw the army of farmers turn towards the mountains and prepare to attack.

  ‘Take your positions!’ Hafender’s voice boomed around the silent pass, quickly followed by the commotion of defenders rushing to their posts.

  As Brogan prepared to descend, the watchman gripped his arm. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘May your aim be true,’ Brogan replied and then scurried down the cliff to the bottom of the pass.

  He found Ellas amidst the frenzied activity, and drew his sword as he took position next to his best friend.

  Hafender charged to the front and spotted Brogan.

  ‘Rathnor’s entranced them,’ Brogan said as they watched the charging attackers.

  Hafender’s eyes didn’t waver. ‘We’ll hold.’ Then he jumped lithely on top of a boulder at the front of the pass, his back to the enemy in a deliberate show of defiance.

  The men cheered him and the atmosphere amongst the exiles seemed charged with new resolve.

  ‘Well lads, it looks like the time for caution is gone. It’s time to fight for the pass.’

  Cheers reverberated from the walls. Men raised swords to the air and the archers waved their bows.

  ‘Let’s turn them back with their tails between their legs.’

  Brogan raised his own sword to the sky and emptied his lungs in a battle roar.

  The enemy arrows started flying through the gap in the pass.

  Hafender jumped down amongst their ranks, unharmed as though the island protected him. Brogan heard the whoosh of arrows sent out into the mass of attackers, the screams of dying men, and then the first of the swordsmen reached the opening of the pass.

  There was new ferocity to both sides. The time for the Sentinel’s plan was gone. Fight and live, or hesitate and die.

  Thoughts flashed through Brogan’s mind and then the first of the attackers reached his defensive position. The moment his sword bit into the flesh of his enemy, everything else melted away in battle frenzy.

  ***

  They stood side by side at the window in the mountains, looking down at the settlement. The only signs of life below were the stretcher-bearers travelling back and forth between the pass and the infirmary as they carried the injured. Callisa looked exhausted, ready to collapse, but she’d ignored Tei’s advice to try to get some rest.

  ‘The Elders couldn’t advise me. The barrier hasn’t been down in anyone’s memory and they don’t know how I can find the strength to restore it.’

  ‘Thal has his books; maybe he’ll find the knowledge in them?’

  Callisa returned to her desk. ‘It all seems irrelevant now. The raiders will come and finish off any that haven’t already killed each other in this stupid war.’

  ‘They had to change the plan or they’d lose the pass.’ Tei tried to sooth Callisa, but she could see she was failing. The Sentinel’s despair leaked through their connection, threatening to corrupt Tei along with it.

  Finally, Callisa looked up from her desk and met Tei’s eye. ‘I can’t counter these heinous murders. I may as well slit my wrists and pour my blood into the earth.’

  ‘If you think all is lost, go and surrender yourself to Rathnor,’ Tei said. ‘You could save a few lives today, at least until the magic implodes and Kalaya dies along with it.’

  Callisa was silent, her eyes turning cold and resentful; Tei thought for a terrible moment she’d consider acting upon the careless remark.

  Callisa played with the golden hilt of her short sword, her expression unreadable. Then she unbuckled the scabbard and slammed it and the sword in a drawer out of sight.

  ‘Why are you even here?’ she asked as she settled back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. ‘Go help with the injured, while I try to save the dead.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t...’ Tei started but Callisa had already switched off from the conversation and closed her mind to their connection.

  Cursing under her breath, Tei stormed from the room and headed for the pass. She wished the door would slam behind her for effect, though she doubted Callisa would have noticed.

  ***

  Garrick stopped to rest and looked at the carnage in the Astral Plane above the Turrak Mountains. Once a sanctuary, now the shadows of death besieged the mists and dulled the glow of magic. Each death was a physical wound inflicted upon Kalaya and Garrick knew the Sentinel felt every spirit’s passing.

  The dead kept coming, one after another, victims from both sides of the war. Many of the spirits were lost and confused, and he watched Rike struggle to herd them together before leading them to the light at the centre of the island.

  After the legions latest wave of disorganised attacks, which he and Rike had battled back, the Soul Eater’s creatures had slunk away to wait on the periphery. They were desperate to capture any unsuspecting spirits as they passed over and Garrick had lost count of the dead he’d saved from their clutches. But there had been many he’d failed to help too, those stolen away to feed the Soul Eater and make him stronger.

  Kalaya shuddered as another poor soul perished. He glanced across at Rike and caught the mystic’s worried gaze.

  The spirits of the dead were huddled behind them, while the Soul Eater’s legions bayed in the distance. At any moment, they could launch another attack.

  ‘Can you hold them off?’ Rike asked.

  ‘I’ll be fine here, go.’ Garrick blocked the way with his swords and Rike made a swift retreat, leading the latest dead on to their ever after.

  Garrick heard a scream as a legion somehow got past their guard and stole a spirit away from the back of the group. He glanced behind him, but there was no way he could reach the doomed spirit of the man being dragged off into the mists.

  Garrick turned back to the mass of beasts. They were edging closer, their eyes shining with dark intent.

  Rike and the other spirits had gone but Garrick’s relief was fleeting as the legions moved to circle him and he realised they planned to overpower him.

  He raised his swords and sneered at the creatures. They charged and he met them head on with his blades slashing.

  Garrick fought them back - hacking, chopping and stabbing at anything that came too close. He just had to keep them at bay, to hold on until Rike returned.

  He spun around as a creature closed in behind him. Countering the attack, Garrick deflected another charge coming in from his right. A third legion charged his left, but it took a swipe to the arm that almost severed the limb and stumbled back out of range.
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br />   Garrick was losing and they knew it, but he refused to give in. He imagined the torment the Sentinel was suffering and upped his fight. They had to save the souls of the people; Rathnor could not prevail.

  Garrick spun and swung his sword in a wide arc. The legions grouped in a circle just out of his range. There were maybe twenty of them; one concerted attack and they would overwhelm him. At any moment, he knew they would find their courage and it would be the end of his fight.

  ‘Come on then!’ he shouted.

  The creatures roared at him, brandishing weapons, claws and jaws of sharp pointed teeth.

  Two legions lost their heads and tumbled forward. The space they left behind revealed a figure.

  ‘Captain Dlane!’

  The captain pounced forward and stood beside Garrick. His aura shone bright and whole as he held out his sword and faced the creatures.

  The legions charged. Soon their bodies littered the astral battleground.

  Garrick shook the captain’s hand. ‘Sorry to see you here.’

  ‘Looks like I was needed.’

  Garrick nodded and sighed. ‘You died protecting the pass?’

  Dlane looked surprised by his fate and then resigned. ‘I guess I must have done. They had me surrounded. I didn’t see the killing blow, but no matter.’ He looked around at the astral world. ‘I never realised the Astral Plane would be like this.’

  ‘Most people say the same. But you should go while you can; it’s not safe here for spirits.’ Garrick could feel the next wave of Rathnor’s creatures gathering out of sight. He’d developed a knack for sensing them.

  ‘I want to fight at your side.’ Dlane held his sword in a steady grip, no fear in him. He looked strong and capable, but the captain wasn’t accustomed to the creatures’ tricks.

  Rike returned, looking exhausted. With him were the stray souls he’d already found wandering the Astral Plane.

  ‘Always more souls to save,’ Garrick said.

  He saw the look of recognition and sadness on Rike’s face as he spotted Dlane.

  The two mystics shook hands.

  ‘Go with Rike now, while you still can.’

  Dlane’s spirit was drawn towards the others, but he fought the pull of the island. ‘I can help you, you need me here.’

  Garrick imagined the brave captain devoured by the Soul Eater. ‘No, go through, you deserve peace.’

  Dlane was about to argue but the mists shifted and glowed golden. Then they parted and a figure appeared.

  She smiled at them. ‘My brave Spirit Guides.’

  ‘My lady, it’s too dangerous for you here,’ Rike said, chancing a look at the shifting shadows.

  ‘I will be fine, I will have company.’ She looked at Dlane and smiled. ‘You can help me save these souls before you pass over.’

  ‘There’s no time, the legions are coming,’ Rike said.

  ‘Go now.’ Garrick took up a fighting stance, his blades shimmering with the gleam of the Sentinel’s golden light.

  Callisa drew the spirits to her and didn’t give Dlane a chance to argue. As they faded through the astral mists, the legions appeared.

  Garrick stood beside his friend and shot him a savage smile. ‘It’s up to you and me again.’

  Rike drew his second sword. The blade shone with light that pushed the shadows away. ‘I hope the fighting on Kalaya stops soon.’

  Garrick slashed at the first creature to reach him, almost cutting it in two.

  Rike looked intense as he countered an attack and sent the beast sprawling backwards. ‘How does Rathnor have so many of these creatures? Where are they coming from?’

  Garrick sliced the head off another beast. It turned to wisps of smoke and disappeared. The next he struck lay writhing in its death throes, its guts spilt and trodden on by the next legion in line.

  ‘That’s interesting,’ Rike said.

  Garrick’s arms ached as he swung his sword and killed another beast that felt very real beneath his blade.

  ‘Interesting, but that doesn’t help us work out which ones are illusions and which are real. And they can all still kill us.’

  They battled on, allowing Callisa and Dlane time to find any further stray spirits.

  The rate of illusions to real opponents increased; Garrick judged they were finally depleting Rathnor’s supply of creatures.

  As they stood back to back, fighting off the dwindling tide of Rathnor’s army, Garrick laughed. ‘Just like old times, my friend.’

  Rike grunted. ‘Trust you to find humour at a time like this.’

  ‘A little humour never killed anyone.’

  The remaining legions backed away and retreated into the mist.

  In the reprieve, Garrick checked the battle below in Turrak, seeing farmers and islanders attempting to flood the pass. The exiles were holding their ground, but the sheer numbers would soon overwhelm them. He watched with growing dread, knowing the fight was far from over for any of them.

  ***

  The attackers pushed forward, slowly gaining ground. Brogan had lost count of the people he’d fought and killed or mortally wounded. The exiles’ archers were unable to fire their arrows as the attackers pushed deeper into the pass. Both sides had locked together in small pockets of fighting as the defenders killed, desperate to gain back the lost ground.

  Side by side with Ellas, Brogan traded blows with soldiers and farmers alike; men he’d worked so hard to protect from Rathnor’s poison, but now killed in order to survive. He attacked and wounded indiscriminately, focusing on only one goal - defend the pass to keep Turrak and its Sentinel safe.

  Brogan’s newly acquired sword skills kept him alive for the frenzied hours of battle but lethargy seeped into his body and he stumbled over a young lad who’d fallen to his blade and lay dying at his feet. Brogan felt the whoosh of a sword above his head, and heard the clang of metal upon metal. Spinning, weapon raised, he found Ellas had already blocked the deathblow aiming for his neck. The attacker lost his sword, but ducked in close, slashing a dagger across Ellas’ stomach.

  ‘No!’ With a bellow, Brogan chopped at the attacker, severing his head. Then he turned to Ellas, catching him as he fell. He dragged his friend away from the battle, not stopping until he’d cleared the lines of defenders and made it back to the healers’ ranks. He sat Ellas down alongside the other wounded men awaiting treatment.

  Ellas attempted to smile, but it was more of a wince and Brogan saw the bright blood seeping through his fingers. ‘How’s the wound?’

  ‘It hurts a bit,’ Ellas answered through gritted his teeth. ‘But I think I’ll live.’

  Brogan looked for someone to help his friend, but the swordsmen jogging past him caught his attention as they headed out to plug the gaps in defence. Their fresh faces spoke of youth and inexperience.

  ‘They’ll last seconds,’ Brogan whispered savagely, but Ellas had rested his head against the rock wall, closed his eyes and didn’t seem to hear.

  ‘Thanks for saving me,’ Brogan said.

  ‘What are best friends for,’ Ellas said, without opening his eyes. He attempted another smile, but couldn’t disguise the pain on his face or the blood still oozing from the wound.

  ‘Try pressing harder,’ Brogan suggested as he spotted Tei amongst the people rushing up and down the pass. Her face paled as she ran towards him, and he realised he was covered with the blood of those he’d killed.

  ‘I’m not hurt,’ he said quickly and risked giving her a hug.

  Tei squeezed him tight, muffling a strangled sob against his chest.

  ‘Ellas is wounded,’ he said, moving aside so Tei could check his friend.

  She dropped to her knees and pulled open her pack as she glanced over the wound. She cleaned the area with water and folded a clean dressing over the cut in his flesh. ‘Keep pressure on it,’ she told him.

  Ellas winched, but did as she asked.

  ‘You’ve been lucky, the blade didn’t go deep, but you’ll need a nurse to stit
ch it.’ Tei stood and shouldered her pack of medical supplies.

  Brogan looked at Tei, in awe of the confident way she dealt with the wounded.

  ‘They’re moving the injured into the valley,’ she said.

  Ellas nodded and held out his hand to Brogan. Brogan grasped his friend’s blood-slicked fingers and pulled him to his feet. ‘Can you walk?’ he asked.

  Ellas clenched his jaw and took a few tentative steps. Tei quickly moved to support him.

  Brogan patted his friend on the shoulder and backed away. Tei turned to look at him, confusion and then understanding playing across her face.

  ‘Help him to the settlement,’ he told her and left before she could protest. The desperate look in her eyes haunted him as he scrounged a fresh weapon and headed back to the fighting.

  ***

  Tei helped Ellas get comfortable as they joined the queue of injured people waiting outside the infirmary. She sat next to him in silence, her thoughts on Brogan and the way he’d run back into battle.

  ‘Don’t lose hope,’ Ellas said, as if reading her thoughts.

  Tei turned to him and smiled. She noticed the cloth covering his wound was soaked with blood. Feeling guilty for neglecting her charge, she peeled back the spent bandage to look at the cut, which was thankfully beginning to congeal. She pressed a fresh bandage to the wound, and as Ellas put pressure on it, she noticed his hand was shaking.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, studying his face.

  ‘Grateful to be alive.’ He laughed at her scrutiny. ‘I’m fine, Tei. You should go help the others.’

  Tei looked along the long line of injured and then down at the former Assembly member, not wanting to leave him but knowing she must. ‘You could be in for a long wait.’

  ‘I’ve no other plans,’ he said, and waved her off.

  Tei headed up the line towards the infirmary, but then she saw stretcher-bearers heading into the valley from the pass. She rushed to help, praying it wasn’t Brogan. The injured man wasn’t familiar but his grey face looked slack as the wound in his chest bled heavily. The stretcher-bearer trying to stem the flow of blood shook his head grimly at Tei. Stepping aside, she watched them hurry past. She wandered amongst the injured, offering water and first aid where she could, or words of encouragement to those who looked like they needed it. As she worked along the line, the conversation of a group of soldiers sitting outside the infirmary drifted to her ears.