The Sentinel's Reign

by Suzanne Rogerson

  Paddren shook himself from the grip of the vision, though the smell of smoke clung to his nostrils and his skin felt clammy from the heat. He massaged his temples as he strode through the market square and made his way to the stall selling herbs.

  The leathery-faced stall owner caught his gaze and gave a discreet nod. While the trader continued to gossip with another customer, Paddren sorted through the herbs and spices, picking his usual assortment of foreign plants that wouldn’t grow in the colder climates of Paltria. Among them were dried luca leaves from the distant shores of Seya and a tiny jar of dried starspike flowers from Paltria’s neighbours in the western borderland of Cazonia. He added a small sack of tobacco to his collection before searching through the myriad of fresh cut leaves for purple lentah, the potent herb that grew on the harsh northern shores of Paltria. He picked up a bunch of wilting stems and sniffed them. The herbs had curled at the edges and only a faint hint of peppery scent remained.

  ‘You’re getting careless,’ Paddren said as he handed his selection to the stallholder.

  ‘It’ll be fresher next time, I promise.’ He offered Paddren an earnest smile, all gums and crooked teeth. ‘Take an extra ounce of tobacco and tell Master Kalesh it comes with my warmest regards.’

  Paddren rolled his eyes and pocketed the tobacco. He watched the hawker’s hands wrap the purchases in a large square of linen, and nodded when the trader slipped a pouch into his palm beneath the package of herbs.

  ‘I take care of everything.’ The man grinned.

  Paddren tucked the linen parcel amongst the other supplies in his pack, while the pouch disappeared into a hidden pocket of his cloak. He counted out payment, adding an extra coin to ensure the herb-seller’s continued silence.

  ‘See you next month, Master Kalesh’s apprentice,’ the stall owner said with a wink.

  Paddren nodded and headed back into the bustling crowd. He patted the small pouch of herbs concealed in his cloak as he threaded his way through the market. The pungent smell of plants gave way to the appetising aromas of hog roast and meat pies, reminding him that he’d missed breakfast.

  ‘Try a bunton cake, freshly made today…’

  ‘Sample the finest honey cakes in all Paltria…’

  Rival stallholders filled the air with shouts as they competed for passing trade. Paddren allowed their friendly jousting to wash over him and headed for the stables. As he stepped through the unmanned gates of the Redstone Manor estate, a presence shrouded by darkness brushed against his mind. Sharp pain ripped through his skull and white light flashed across his vision. He staggered to a halt and dropped his pack of supplies on the cobbles as a thunderclap exploded in his head. He gripped his skull between his hands, the pain so excruciating he had to clench his teeth to stop from screaming. His mental shield began to buckle, but then the unfamiliar presence retreated as suddenly as it had arrived.

  He sucked in a shaky breath and tasted the tang of blood in his mouth. A tremor quaked through his body and his hand shook as he stooped to snatch up his discarded bag.

  ‘Are you all right, Paddren?’ one of the baron’s stewards asked, detaching himself from the small crowd that had gathered to watch.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Paddren said, forcing a smile.

  The onlookers began to shuffle away. Ignoring them, Paddren tried to envisage the dark presence - certain it had been searching for someone or something. Whatever its purpose, he knew he had to tell his master.

  He hurried to the stables and caught the stable boy dozing in the straw. He tapped the lad’s foot.

  ‘Sorry, Master Wizard, sir,’ the boy stuttered.

  Paddren paced the aisle between the stalls while he waited for the lad to remove the empty feedbag and fumble with the girth straps.

  ‘That’ll do.’ Paddren tugged at the saddle horn and climbed onto his horse. He flipped the lad a coin and then turned the mare’s head and bolted out the stable door. They tore across the courtyard and out the manor gates, scattering several people from their path. ‘Sorry,’ he called over his shoulder.

  Switching the reins into his right hand, Paddren searched inside his shirt pocket and gripped the gold talisman brooch.

  Kalesh. He reached out telepathically, but something was blocking their link.

  On the outskirts of Herristone, Paddren kicked his heels into the mare’s flanks and galloped across the open ground. He continued to press the horse in a brutal dash through the forest that separated the town from Hawthorn Cottage. The miles of beech trees seemed to stretch for an eternity, but finally he broke through the shade of the woods and crossed the clearing towards the oak-framed cottage he called home. Its thatched roof stuck out above the fence of hawthorn bushes, which were just shedding the last of their creamy-white blossom. He charged his horse through the open gate and frowned as he noticed the closed cottage shutters and smokeless chimney. Vaulting from the saddle, he dumped his supplies by the door and gave the garden a cursory glance.

  ‘Master Kalesh!’

  Seeing no sign of his master, or their servant Leyoch, he rushed inside the cottage. The hearth in the main room was swept clean and the breakfast things all tidied from the table. The three bedrooms were empty, and Kalesh’s study door was locked - something he only did when he was going out. Paddren was certain there had been no suggestion of Kalesh going anywhere when he’d left the two men relaxing over their morning brews.

  He slumped into a chair by the unlit fire and took a deep, calming breath. Pulling the brooch from his pocket, he traced the hawthorn design that was worked into the precious metal. Closing his eyes, he stroked the golden brooch with his thumb.

  Master, where are you?

  Be gone, lad, this is not your concern, the wizard answered after a long pause.

  Paddren grappled after their faint connection and immediately sensed the dark presence shadowing his master. Master Kalesh, there’s a malevolent spirit...

  I know. I’m trying to protect you from it you fool. Now go.

  I won’t leave until you tell me what’s going on.

  I command you to leave now!

  A barrier slammed between them.

  Paddren’s eyelids fluttered open and he found himself sprawled on the floor. Forcing down the sour taste of nausea, he stashed the talisman back in his pocket and climbed to his feet, then stumbled to the door of the cottage and leant against the oak frame, waiting for his throbbing head to clear. Instead, the garden blurred as another vision slipped past his resistance.

  …the chair toppled and clattered to the floor. A man dangled from the exposed beam, his legs kicking wildly as he clawed at the rope tightening around his neck. In the shadows, a hooded figure watched until the death throes stopped and the man’s body hung limp...

  Paddren squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push the vision from his thoughts. He ducked back inside the cottage and grabbed the sword from under his bed, then dashed outside and whistled to his horse. She came at his call and snorted as he tied the sword to his saddle-roll and remounted. From the new vantage point, he reached out with his magic to trace Kalesh’s route, but a blocking spell masked his master’s presence beyond the gates of Hawthorn Cottage.

  ‘You’re a stubborn old fool, Kalesh,’ Paddren muttered as he nudged the mare onto the path that led back to Herristone.

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  Author Profile

  Suzanne lives in Middlesex with her hugely encouraging husband and two children.

  She wrote her first novel at the age of twelve. She discovered the fantasy genre in her late teens and has never looked back. Giving up work to raise a family gave her the impetus to take her attempts at novel writing beyond the first draft, and she is lucky enough to have a husband who supports her dream - even if he does occasionally hint that she might think about getting a proper job one day.

  Suzanne loves gardening and has a Hebe (shrub) fetish. She enjoys cooking with
ingredients from the garden and regularly feeds unsuspecting guests vegetable-based cakes.

  She collects books, loves going for walks and picnics with the children and sharing with them her love of nature and photography.

  Suzanne is interested in history and enjoys wandering around castles. But most of all she likes to escape with a great film or soak in a hot bubble bath with an ice cream and a book.