Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  “Leyandrii’s plan? Not your plan?”

  Birlerion laughed. “No, it was their plan; we just did what we were told. The power was theirs. They just lent it to us when needed.” He tilted his head; his eyes distant. “Torsion is on his way with back up. Before he gets here, I could show you how I see the temple if you’d like?”

  “I’d love that, thank you.”

  “My sentinal will know you now. If you ever have the need, if you need shelter or a quiet place, you are always welcome. He will allow you entry.”

  Taelia’s eyes shone. “You are very generous.”

  “He gets lonely when we are away. You would be doing me a favour. He’s used to having me here.”

  “Then I would be honoured, thank you.”

  “Let us visit the Lady. She likes us to visit, as well.” Birlerion offered her his arm and led her out of the tree.

  Taelia faltered as her gaze swept hungrily around the gardens and over the sentinal before pausing on the white marble temple.

  “I can still see!”

  “For a little while, though I am afraid your sight will fade soon. But you’ll have time to see inside if you wish.”

  They entered the temple and Taelia gasped. “It’s shimmering; the stone is shimmering.”

  “Leyandrii is always pleased when we visit. The temple reflects her pleasure.” Birlerion chuckled as he reached for the smooth white stone and patted it. The white marble settled into a soothing gleam at his touch and his face softened.

  Taelia watched him in amazement. “Birlerion! What did you just do? It’s stopped shimmering.”

  Birlerion shrugged, a soft smile on his face. “I have no explanation. The temple always says hello.”

  Taelia stared at him for a moment, as if perplexed and then walked up to the altar. “She was so beautiful,” she murmured as she gazed at the statue of a young woman holding an armful of flowers.

  “She still is,” Birlerion replied as he knelt at the feet of the statue. He relaxed as the welcoming peace of the temple embraced him. A small smile tugged at his lips as the stray thought that he was older than even this temple passed through his mind. Thank goodness he didn’t feel that old. He rose and joined Taelia where she sat in the pew observing him. He gave her a self-conscious smile and inhaled the heady scent of roses.

  “Roses. They smell beautiful,” Taelia said, her voice soft.

  “Uplifting,” Birlerion murmured.

  Taelia jerked around at the strident clatter behind them, breaking the spell. “Hopefully they soothe as well. Torsion doesn’t look pleased. Birlerion, you need to be careful around him. I would never have believed you if you’d told me, but I think he would kill you if he had the chance.”

  Birlerion sighed, sad to lose the moment. “I know. I seem to rile him for some reason.”

  “Taelia!” Torsion’s voice was like an explosion in the calm temple.

  “There is no need to shout,” Taelia replied.

  “Where have you been?”

  “You can see where I am, and where I have been is nothing to you. Now leave me in peace. I have every right to sit in a temple.” Torsion flinched as her brilliant eyes bored into his.

  “I’ll not leave you with him.”

  “It’s probably best if I leave; no point causing a scene,” Birlerion murmured. “Remember, you are always welcome, scholar.”

  “It’s Taelia, call me Taelia, and it’s not you making the scene. Thank you, Birlerion.” She offered her hand and Birlerion bent over and kissed it in farewell.

  She smiled as he whispered her name, and her sight began to fade as he left.

  19

  King’s Palace, Old Vespers

  Jerrol was methodically searching the prince’s bed-chamber when Jennery found him.

  “There you are. I’ve been searching all over. The king has the whole palace buzzing.”

  “I hope he remembers there are spies in the palace.”

  “Apparently, it is a celebration for the confirmation of Alyssa as Guardian, and he’s decided to have a full-dress ball.”

  “Ah, your audience with the king went well then?”

  “Better than well. He wants us back there as soon as possible to perform the confirmation. I need to start beefing up the garrison, as you said the Elothian border is going to be key. Landis is going to come and help.”

  “Umm, the confirmation means you too, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose, though Alyssa is the Guardian.”

  “Have you set the date then?”

  “Date?”

  “For your joining, numbskull.”

  Jennery stopped pacing in shock. “By the Lady, I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “But you have discussed it, haven’t you?”

  “Well, of course, but generally, you know, as part of taking on the Watch,” Jennery said.

  Jerrol grinned at his dazed expression. “Then maybe you had better ask her before the king does it for you. I am sure Alyssa will want to plan it all. Maybe you ought to suggest that her mother helps her; you know, a way for them to bond.”

  Jennery bit his lip. “Her mother?”

  “Haven’t you met her mother yet? Lady Miranda will become your mother.” Jerrol’s lips twitched. Maybe he ought not mention that it looked like Tagerill could end up being his father.

  Jennery paled. “Mother?”

  “She could go with you to Deepwater; give Alyssa a chance to get to know her again.”

  “Do you think she would want to?”

  “I am positive she would. Get on her good side, go and introduce them. Though I would slip in your proposal first.” Jerrol grinned, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

  Jennery nodded. “Propose first, then meet the mother,” he mumbled as he left the room, bouncing off the door frame as he stumbled away.

  Parsillion peered through the door, a grin on his face. He had replaced Birlerion for the day. “Do you need some help?”

  Jerrol laughed. “I think I’ve pretty much searched everywhere.” He gestured at the jumbled mess. Prince Kharel was disorganized; books and papers were scattered across the floor, clothes dropped haphazardly or strewn across chairs. Jerrol had been through every piece of clothing, every book and scroll, even to the extent of pulling up rugs and moving furniture, but there was nothing: no incriminating messages; no sign of collusion.

  Sitting on the bed, he scanned the room. It was a basic room; the prince had not bothered with any curtains to soften the windows nor requested any furniture or decorations to ease his comfort. It was quite spartan compared to his wife’s plush parlour. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. Lady, he thought, we are getting nowhere.

  His eye paused on the door to the ramparts. He stood and opened it and followed the stone steps up around the bend and out into the morning sun, Parsillion on his heels.

  The crenulated stone led all the way around the tower; a sheer drop all the way around. The silver spire rose to a point above him. There was a wooden chair positioned on the flagstones, facing west towards the city of Old Vespers. Jerrol sat in the chair and inspected the stone walls around him. The northernmost warehouse just behind the Chapterhouse was visible through one of the gaps. What was the purpose of the warehouses?

  The fact that the warehouses were visible reinforced his suspicions. Idly, he inspected the stonework around him. The grey stone was weathered and dull, all except for one stone, which seemed to brighten as he stared at it. He eased the block out of the wall with his knife. The stone grated slightly before falling into his hand, and in the cavity behind it was a cloth-wrapped bundle. He replaced the stone and sat back in the chair, unwrapping the small package.

  A clear, tubular crystal fell into his hand, along with a black notebook and a folded piece of parchment; the same as the parchment he had found in Deepwater. He unfolded the parchment and examined the unexplained symbols. Sighing, he refolded the paper and flicked through the notebook. It was the one Isseran had dropped
, and he had handed to his commander; the one Kharel had confiscated from Nikols. He sat back with a huff as his eye ran down the list of officials.

  There were some heavyweight names on the list, which Jerrol supposed was not surprising considering the positions Isseran and Kharel held. He pondered. Was there an opportunity for him to use this list without knowing what their directives were? Could he feed in bad information, and if so, what?

  The bundle in his lap buzzed and he almost dropped it in surprise. As he flipped the cloth open, the crystal glowed a bright white. Tentatively, he picked it up and it vibrated against his palm. He gripped it tighter in case he dropped it.

  Parsillion hissed his breath out. “Another communications crystal.”

  The buzzing grew louder and a subtle vibration grew in his ears; an unnatural sensation that made him shiver. Jerrol flinched as a voice spoke clearly: “... all associates, calling all associates, check-in time recalibrated to minus two, repeat, check-in time recalibrated to minus two. We rise with the Lady’s Moon, repeat, rising with the Lady’s Moon. Do not, repeat, do not, get wet. Allow the decs to clear the way. Final check at minus two.”

  Jerrol froze. The full moon was tomorrow, the day of the king’s ball. Was that the day they would attack the palace? What did the rest of it mean? He ran back down the stairs, Parsillion at his heels, and went to seek an audience with the king.

  Jennery found Alyssa sitting in the small parlour reserved for the ladies. She was staring out of the window.

  “Hey, fancy a walk?” Jennery grinned as he stuck his head around the door.

  Alyssa leapt to her feet. “Please. Everyone is busy except me.” She slipped her hand around his arm and allowed him to escort her out of the palace. They began to walk down through the gardens.

  “Where are we going?” Alysa asked.

  “I wanted to talk to you privately,” Jennery began, gripping her arm tight.

  “Oh? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, nothing’s the matter,” Jennery said. He flicked a glance around them. The gardens were deserted, and he drew Alyssa to the side of a flower bed. “Errm, I was thinking …” He ran his fingers around his shirt collar, which suddenly felt too tight. “I was, um thinking.” He stuttered to a halt.

  Alyssa cocked her head at him. “Thinking what?” she prompted.

  “Well, seeing as the king will be announcing you as Guardian of Deepwater, and we will be running Deepwater together, and seeing as, well, seeing as we like each other … um … a lot. I was thinking, well you know, I was … um … thinking, we should get joined,” he said in a rush, looking hopefully at Alyssa.

  “What?”

  He rolled his eyes and dropped to one knee, holding her hand in a panicky grip. “Alyssa, I love you. Please will you join with me?” he asked, the colour rising in his face as she gasped. A wide smile spread over her face.

  “Lea, yes! Of course I will.” Alyssa wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

  “Um, aren’t I supposed to kiss you?” he asked rather breathlessly when she finally let him go.

  “You did the asking. I’ll do the kissing,” Alyssa said and promptly kissed him again.

  Jerrol took a detour via the cells on his way to see the king. Maybe the prince would reveal something. The king called the cells ‘the dungeons’, but the upper level wasn’t the dark, dank holes you would expect of true castle dungeons. As he descended the curved stone steps, he remembered his first sight of an Arifel. It was a fortunate distraction at the time, enabling him to escape his death sentence. Birlerion, again.

  Kharel’s cell was on the upper level and quite light and airy, with a cot bed against the wall. He sat on the edge of the bed; his shoulders slumped in dejection. A King’s Guard stood over him.

  “Well, you’ve thrown away everything, and for what?” Jerrol asked as he entered the cell.

  Kharel glared at Jerrol.

  “The Ascendants have left you to swing for treason. What were they offering you that you didn’t already have?”

  Kharel clamped his lips together and stared at the wall.

  “What, you aren’t going to say? Do you think they’re going to rush to save you? The Grand Duke doesn’t want you; you’re no longer any use. You’ve got no power.” Jerrol flexed his hand. “He only wants Selvia, his daughter.”

  “He can have her.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear you say that. You are aware of the penalty for treason? For trying to assassinate the king? Death. Death by public execution, so that all the people can witness your humiliation. Do you think you’ll be able to hold your head high? Act brave while inside, your guts are shaking like jelly and all you’ll want to do is spew?”

  Kharel flicked a nervous glance at Jerrol, his face tight.

  “The king ordered it for the day after tomorrow. No point wasting time. It’s not as if you can say anything to prove your innocence as you were caught in the act.” Jerrol paced around the cell. “Hung, drawn, and quartered. I always thought that was a bit barbaric, but they say they gut you and drag your entrails out while you are still alive. They make sure you suffer before they chop you up.”

  Kharel paled.

  “I heard you live for quite a while; after being gutted, I mean. All the bits are still connected, aren’t they? In theory.” Jerrol paused at the door as he considered the king’s eldest son. “What could they have possibly offered you that you didn’t already have?”

  “You don’t know what you are dealing with,” Kharel spat.

  “Why don’t you tell me?” Jerrol invited.

  “They don’t leave loose ends. They have it all planned.”

  “You mean you are prepared to die just to make sure their plan runs smoothly?”

  Kharel smirked. “You will see. You don’t know what they are capable of.”

  “Really?”

  “They have powers you have never seen and magics that will overwhelm you. Just wait. You’ll see.” Kharel’s laugh was a little hysterical. “I can’t wait for you all to be brought down.”

  Jerrol held up the clear crystal. “Is this how you all get your instructions? Traitors like you and Fenton?” Jerrol waved the black notebook. “Someone else is telling you what to do. Who is it?”

  Kharel’s eyes bulged and he clamped his lips tight.

  “You’ve committed treason, on the word of some other person who you are not even willing to name? Ashamed to associate with them now, are you?”

  Glaring at Jerrol, Kharel refused to say another word.

  The door clanged shut behind Jerrol as he left. He jerked his head at the guard and they made their way up the stairs. “Did he say anything previously?”

  The guard shook his head. “He said more to you than he has the whole time he’s been in the cell.”

  Jerrol sighed. “He knows something is going to happen; he’s not sure what, though he expects to be rescued. Stay alert.”

  The guard saluted and headed back down the stairs.

  Jerrol deliberated. The king would get annoyed if he kept interrupting him, but this was too important not to raise as an issue. He entered the palace, intent on reaching the king.

  Darris opened the door as he approached. King Benedict was expecting him and was standing behind his desk. “What’s the matter? I could feel you coming across the parade ground.”

  “Sire, I found this hidden in the ramparts above your son’s room.” Jerrol placed the crystal on the desk. “This is a live communication crystal. It buzzed while I was holding it. There was a message. There is a rising planned, which will coincide with the Lady’s moon. An associate's check-in has been recalibrated to ‘minus two’. I thought maybe the attack was planned for Lady’s day, but I think it’s tomorrow to coincide with your ball, and I found Commander Fenton in the notebook.” Jerrol tossed the notebook on the king’s desk. “I mistook the ‘f’ as an ‘s’ previously.” Jerrol exhaled a deep breath. “Prince Kharel knows something’s coming.”


  The king cursed, long and fluently, and massaged his temples before leaning back in his chair staring at Jerrol. “Very well, see if you can find Fenton, and double the guard on my son. The ball continues. I will not be dictated by nameless people.”

  “Yes, sire,” Jerrol said and bowed his way out of the room.

  20

  King’s Ball

  It was the morning of the king’s ball, and Miranda sat waiting in the king’s rose arbour, twisting her handkerchief between her fingers. She had agreed to meet her daughter here, and although she was excited to see her, she wasn’t sure of the reception she was going to receive. It had been nearly ten years since she had last seen Alyssa. That had been her choice, not her daughter’s. She could say she had been influenced, but what sort of mother deserted her children and never checked how they were getting on?

  She held her head in her hands. Yes, she’d had her reasons; she had been too young, too immature, not understanding the commitment she had made, scared of leaving the city. All excuses, and thin ones at that. She may have been persuaded against her will but she hadn’t put up a fight and, instead, had gone with the easy option, allowing someone else to make her decisions for her.

  Arguing that Hugh hadn’t tried to stop her wouldn’t help her. She knew he had. He had tried to meet her halfway. He’d agreed to attend court more often if that was her desire, yet she had allowed herself to be convinced that her family didn’t need or want her. Miranda recalled Captain Haven’s words; it’s never too late. “It’s never too late,” she repeated to herself. “Give yourself a chance.”

  Footsteps on the gravel disturbed her, and she looked up. A young couple strolled towards her; they were holding hands, and the girl leaned into the man. As they walked, the man slipped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. He gave her a brief hug and let go, leaving her to walk on alone, watching her with concern.

  Miranda took a deep breath and stood. This beautiful young woman was her daughter? All grown up and courting? She had missed so much of her daughter’s life. She suddenly didn’t want to miss any more.