Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  “A voice crystal? Where would they have got that from?”

  “The Telusions, probably. That was the main source of crystal mining.”

  “Telusions? Where were they?”

  Birlerion raised his eyebrows and then grimaced. “I suppose they are no more? The Telusion mountains ran down the southern coastline of Terolia. A string of fire mountains. The last time I was there, they were running hot, so I’m not surprised they blew.”

  Jerrol stared at him. “You went near an active volcano?”

  “Volcano? I suppose I must have, if that’s what you call them. Not by choice, I can assure you,” he said, his voice fading as he stared down the street. Jerrol was sure he wasn’t seeing the empty street as his mouth tightened.

  Terolia again.

  “How do they work?” Jerrol asked.

  “Someone with the knowledge would have had to charge it for a specific person’s use. When the crystal is clear, that person can send messages to whoever they want within a certain radius. When it turns cloudy, it is depleted.”

  “Who can create them?” Jerrol stared at the crystal.

  “One who knows the old ways. There must be someone who understands how to harness its power within Vespers.”

  “Could you do it?”

  “Me? No. Niallerion or Parsillion, maybe.”

  “Is there any way of finding the people at the other end?” Jerrol asked as he took Zin’talia’s reins from the soldier leading her up the road. Her concern bombarded him, and he squinted at Birlerion, trying to tune her out.

  “Jerrol! Are you alright? You are covered in blood. Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” he reassured her as he focused on the Sentinal beside him.

  “I doubt it. The recipients would have to be in the local vicinity for the crystal to work; they don’t work over great distances, but that would still be most of Vespers.” Birlerion heaved a dejected sigh as he glanced around him. “Tagerill is not going to be happy when he hears about this.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can sneak into the Chapterhouse and get a bath before anyone sees us.”

  Birlerion shook his head and mounted up. “Wouldn’t the garrison be better?” he suggested as one of the soldiers assisting with the clearing up handed him a few of his arrows. Most had been lost, shattering on impact. Twisting, he slotted them into his quiver. Birlerion indicated for the guards to close around them and led the way down the street. People peered out of their doors, watching wide-eyed as the troop of soldiers passed.

  “How many got away do you think?” Jerrol asked as he gazed up at the passing roofs, wondering if he would ever again be able to walk safely down a street in Vespiri.

  “Only a couple. The inquisitors will have their hands full with the bodies. It will be interesting to see if they can tell us anything.”

  “Unlikely,” Jerrol said as they passed through the garrison gates. As he dismounted, Jerrol nodded dismissal to the lieutenant at the head of the guard. His friend Leander Jennery strode across the courtyard. Once a lieutenant in the King’s Guard and now a reluctant Lady’s Guard, though the Lady had not turned him full Sentinal for some reason. His eyes remained a bright blue instead of the usual silver of the Lady’s Guards.

  Jennery was his oldest friend, both of them having grown up in Stoneford under the eye of Lord Jason and their foster mother, Hannah. He was currently courting Lady Alyssa of Greenswatch, and Jerrol inwardly chuckled as he remembered when she had found out his first name and insisted on using it. Not that he would have gotten away with it, Jennery only answered to Jennery.

  “Jerrol, are you alright? What has happened? Are you hurt?” Jennery grabbed Jerrol’s shoulders in concern.

  “I’m fine. I just need a bath,” Jerrol replied. “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Jennery said, shaking his shoulder. “You arrive covered in blood and surrounded by guards. I think that’s a little more than nothing.”

  “I need a bath before Nikols sees me,” Jerrol muttered, trying to slide out of Jennery’s grip.

  “I think it’s too late for that,” Birlerion murmured as he braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions.

  “Maybe we should have gone back to the palace.” Jerrol scowled as he turned towards the commander who crossed the courtyard, closely followed by Darllion, who glared at Birlerion as if it was all his fault. Birlerion straightened up and glared back.

  Birlerion groaned out loud as Tagerill sauntered into the courtyard, assessing Jerrol keenly before turning to his brother.

  “Busy day?” Tagerill inquired.

  “We dealt with it. What are you doing here?” Birlerion asked with some bitterness.

  Tagerill grinned. “Enjoying a tour of Old Vespers. We were passing the garrison when we saw you arrive and, considering your appearance, I wanted to check that the Captain was in one piece.”

  Jerrol started laughing as Birlerion took umbrage. “Tagerill, please, enjoy your time off. Tomorrow will be early enough for you to return. Birlerion is quite capable of keeping me in one piece.”

  “He’d better,” Tagerill growled, the threat clear as he sauntered back out of the courtyard and joined a woman hovering outside the gates.

  Jerrol’s eyes widened as he recognized Lady Miranda. He drew everyone’s attention back inside the courtyard as he suggested they move inside and allow both Birlerion and himself to clean up before giving an update on what had happened.

  Outside the garrison gates, Tagerill paused beside Lady Miranda. “How are you feeling? Had enough? Or can I tempt you to have dinner with me?”

  “Haven’t you had enough of me? Was everything alright? Wasn’t that Captain Haven? He looked a bit worse for wear.”

  “He does seem to attract trouble, but they are fine. I have enjoyed today. Thank you for taking the time to share your city with me. Hopefully, I will learn to love it as much as you do.”

  “That was my downfall. I misjudged how much I liked the city when I moved to Greenswatch. I thought I could adapt to life in the country, but I couldn’t, I hated it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like the gardens and the peace and calm of the temple, but I don’t want to live in it.”

  Tagerill watched her. “I wasn’t sure, but I met Lady Alyssa and your son, Simeon, in Greenswatch. I think Lady Alyssa intends on joining you here, now that Simeon is confirmed.” He hesitated. “I am sorry for your loss. Lord Hugh will be greatly missed.”

  “I was the wrong wife for him. He tried—he really did. I was just too young when I got joined. I don’t regret leaving; Hugh was quite capable of bringing up the children to revere the Watch.” Lady Miranda sighed, her face pinching. “Hugh didn’t deserve to die the way he did.”

  “You said you had the day off today. Are you still waiting on Princess Selvia?”

  “Yes, the princess sponsored me when the queen passed away. The princess is the daughter of the Grand Duke of Elothia. I knew her before she joined with Prince Kharel. It was a difficult time at court, and she made it possible for me to stay. It was quite natural to move into her employ. I’ve waited on her for the last ten years or so.”

  “How does she go on? Did she support Prince Kharel’s bid for the throne?”

  “Let’s not get into politics. We’ll only end up disagreeing.” Lady Miranda turned away. “I think it’s time for me to return to the palace.”

  “I appreciate you showing me the city. I hope you will not suffer for it. You ought to have a hot bath, just to make sure you are not too stiff tomorrow.”

  “I’m not as fragile as you think.” Lady Miranda said and clamped her lips shut as she strode through the narrow streets of the government quarter. The tall stone buildings rose around them, casting long shadows in the early evening torchlight.

  “My apologies,” Tagerill murmured, wondering what he had said to offend.

  Lady Miranda gave a gentle sigh. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not used to having someone looking out for me. Thank you for today and for lunch.
I enjoyed it.”

  “As did I,” Tagerill replied, falling silent as they walked up the switchback towards the palace. “Thank you for making my first day off memorable,” Tagerill said, bending to kiss her hand as they paused at the palace entrance.

  Lady Miranda’s eyes twinkled. “It was a pleasure. Thank you for sharing your memories with me.”

  “I hope we have the opportunity to repeat the experience when we next have a day off,” he said with sincerity as she withdrew her hand.

  “Thank you,” she said as she mounted the steps, leaving Tagerill to walk around to the barracks and mull over the day and the mystery that was Lady Miranda.

  6

  Mistra, Terolia

  Var’geris was brooding. He knew he was, but he couldn’t help it. Everything had been so clear when they had started. The steps they had taken were well thought through and well planned. They had been extending their influence unnoticed throughout Vespiri; where had they gone wrong?

  The Ascendants’ plans were unravelling. But there was a force moving around Vespiri that seemed to see through their subterfuge and strike it down instantly. He had sent people forth to investigate; they would soon find out who it was.

  How had they lost their grip on the king? It was untenable. They’d had the chancellor and the Crown Prince, the two most influential people in Vespiri, after the king, and still they had let control slip through their fingers. Not only had they lost the king, but the prince was now out of reach under house arrest and closely guarded.

  The chancellor was lucky to have escaped, and he hoped Iss’aren had a good explanation. He’d better have good news of the situation in Elothia.

  The Grand Duke of Elothia was preparing a document protesting against the treatment of Princess Selvia, though Var’geris didn’t think it would make any difference. King Benedict was taking the attack on his throne personally. They wouldn’t be able to catch him unawares again.

  There had been no word from Mer’iteras in Greenswatch either, which was worrying. At least they still had Deepwater in their grip. For’teras and Pev’eril between them could re-entrench them in the watches. Stoneford was also susceptible, being out on the borders and far from the king’s watchful eye. It could still be a distraction as they continued their infiltration in Terolia. Terolia was nearly ripe and ready to fall into his hands. The Families were disintegrating; his next speech in Mistra should tip the scales and finish the Families forever.

  His deliberations were interrupted by the Veil, coaxing him to return. He had thought the Veil was a myth; a story told by those who should know better. He had been wrong. The stories were true. The Lady had brought down a Veil of protection around the world of Remargaren and banished all magic and she had taken his ancestors with her. He had been shocked when he had first experienced the Veil. What an amazing sight. It would consume him if he let it. He had expanded his mind as his father had taught him, extended his awareness up and out of his body, and he had heard its call.

  Its wondrous beauty had drawn him closer; the twisted strands caressed his skin and murmured sweet promises if he would stay, and as he hesitated, he had heard them; his ancestors calling from beyond. It was down to him and his brothers to open the way.

  Relaxing into the cushions, he closed his eyes, feeling his way out to the Veil. Ignoring the sparkling beauty beyond, he sensed the weakness in the weave; yes, there! Someone had tried to patch it, but they hadn’t been able to seal the edges properly. He focused his mind and sent a burst of energy, which forced the seam apart and unravelled the fix. He tried to sense the location of the person who was fixing it. A taste; a woman. Where was she?

  Expanding his mind, he searched the perimeter. She was elusive, but he had her scent now. He knew what to look for. Concentrating on the tear, he tried to widen it. It resisted. He released the strands and folded his awareness back into his body and opened his eyes.

  He trembled with exhaustion. Communing with the Veil was draining. It sucked the life out of him, craving more each time he visited, yet he could no longer resist.

  Returning to his brooding, he scowled. The Vespirians hadn’t seen anything yet. He would find them, and they would regret interfering with his plans.

  Palace Barracks, Old Vespers

  The day after the attack, Birlerion was off duty, having handed the Captain over to Tagerill.

  He rose with the dawn and met his friend Serillion on the training field. Along with Tagerill, the three of them had been inseparable at the academy, until they had graduated and been posted all over Remargaren. It felt good to go through the movements of Apeiron with his friend, stretching and preparing for what he knew would be vigorous workout. Both Serillion and Tagerill had always bested him with the sword; he had never quite reached their standard. After all, Tagerill had been born with a sword in his hand.

  Memories of his days at the academy flooded his mind as he flowed through the movements, stirring memories that he didn’t want to revisit, and he clamped down on them as he drew to a halt and breathed deeply.

  He caught Serillion’s flick of a glance, and he turned away as he shed his shirt and picked up his sword, throwing the sheath over with his canteen. They were both stripped to the waist, their pale skin gleaming with sweat, sleek muscles rippling as they moved. They were of a similar height and build, though Serillion was fair to his dark hair. Well matched in theory. Blue sparks of energy crackled around Serillion and his sword; it was obvious Serillion needed this sparring session, and Birlerion had better make it a good one so he could work off his excess energy.

  Without warning, he launched at Serillion, his sword a curving arc in the pale grey dawn and the clash of steel reverberated across the training ground. They pumelled each other for a good chime, gradually drawing an audience as the other guards on the training ground stopped their own training and watched the display.

  Once the crackles of energy dissipated, Birlerion drew the session to a close by twisting into his friend and forcing him down on the ground with a thump. Birlerion grinned down at him, sweat dripping off his brow. “Good workout.”

  Serillion grunted from beneath him. “When did you become so good, Birlerion? I barely held you off most of the time.”

  “You’re just out of practice.” Birlerion rose and offered his hand.

  Grasping it, Serillion hauled himself to his feet and went to grab his shirt, using it to mop his face. Dirt and grime smeared his back, sticking to his sweaty skin. Birlerion followed, glancing around at their unexpected audience. “Well, we had to give a good show,” he murmured, gesturing towards the guards who were slowly turning back to their own training. Birlerion shrugged into his shirt observing the guards, who were now training with a bit more enthusiasm.

  “That was not just a show.” Serillion groaned as he stretched.

  “You needed it. I’m sure Tage will need it too, maybe you should make sure you train with him tomorrow.”

  “Not me, let him beat you to a pulp. You can show him how much you’ve improved.”

  As they began walking back to the barracks, their shirts flapping in the growing breeze, Birlerion said, “Maybe I’ll suggest Darllion; I am sure he must need a workout.”

  Serillion chuckled as they entered the bathing room. “I wish Tianer was here, she would soon put him in his place.”

  Birlerion grimaced in agreement. She would have flattened him as well.

  Showered and clean once more, they returned to the barracks. Birlerion dressed in shirt and trousers; the linen soft against his skin, reminding him that he lived again. Yes, in a different time, but was it really so different? He buckled on his sword belt, and caressing the ornate hilt, he remembered the day Tagerill’s father had given it to him. Repressing the memory, he picked up his jacket and slid home his daggers.

  Leaving the barracks, they went to the stables, both heading down to the city. Serillion veered off to the Chapterhouse with a wave and Birlerion stopped outside the temple, promising to meet him later
. Greeting his tree as he passed, Birlerion smiled at the frisson of welcome and he entered the Lady’s temple. The white marble gleamed in the morning sun, and it shimmered as Birlerion knelt at her altar. For some reason, the temple had always reacted to his presence. Once again, he prayed for her forgiveness as he opened his mind, searching for the deity who controlled his destiny. Emptiness echoed around him; she wasn’t there. His heart clenched as he wavered. But no, she had given him his orders; protect the Captain. Until she said otherwise, that was his purpose.

  Rising, he bowed to her altar and left. He planned to do some research in the Chapterhouse, if he could avoid Scholar Torsion. Maybe if he tucked himself away in a corner, they wouldn’t find him.

  A shadowy alcove hid him from prying eyes as he found a book on the histories of Vespiri. He began working his way through the last century, trying to learn the vagaries of the country he now lived in. He read about the politics and spheres of influence of the current administration, with the intent of identifying any internal threats against the Captain. As if there weren’t enough external threats already.

  He had gone from having a pulse on the political landscape to knowing nothing, and he didn’t like the feeling. He sat working his way through a weighty tomb about the current administration of Vespiri when the presence of another Sentinal impinged on his senses.

  “I thought we were going to meet for lunch? I might have known I’d find you here. You always did like Leyandrii’s library,” Serillion said.

  Birlerion looked up at his friend and grinned. “I have a lot of reading to catch up on. You all had a head start on me.”

  “Through no fault of your own, you didn’t have access to any books until you joined the rangers,” Serillion said, sitting next to him. He peered at the book. “What are you reading?”

  Birlerion held up the cover: A History of Vespirian Administration, 4005 - 4105. “Thought I’d see what’s been happening in the last century or so, according to the scholars, anyway.”