Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  “Who are going silent?”

  “The others. They enter the between, neither here nor there.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Marianille.”

  “Who?” Jerrol froze in shock.

  “Marianille of Greens. You know of me, Captain?”

  “I’ve met your brothers, they search for you. Birlerion is here with me.”

  Marianille gasped and reached out, tentative but longing. He grabbed her close. “Marianille, have hope. I am coming and I will find you. I am near; keep calling me, understand? I am following your voice.”

  He heard her sharing the news. Other voices joined hers, deeper, slower, more slurred.

  Jerrol woke in the dimness of the cave and sat up. Zin’talia snuffled in the dust and the camel made a spitting noise.

  “Birlerion?” he murmured and the Sentinal stirred. He was beside Jerrol before he had a chance to repeat his name.

  “Captain? What’s the matter?”

  “I’ve found them. Birlerion.” Jerrol gripped Birlerion’s arm. “I’ve found your sister, Marianille.”

  Birlerion stilled and then sighed out a long breath. “Is she alright?”

  “Come with me and I’ll show you.” Jerrol grinned, his eyes bright with excitement. He gripped his sword, and with the Lady’s power swirling around him, he reached out with his mind. Birlerion exclaimed beside him and gripped his shoulders.

  Jerrol placed his hand on the rock below him and sank his thoughts into it. He struggled to find fissures. He didn’t think about what he was doing, he just did it, desperate to find his Sentinals before he lost them. Zig-zagging down below the rock strata and into an open space, he flew through the subterranean cavern and descended further, aware of Birlerion beside him.

  “Marianille?”

  “Captain?” Her surprise was evident; he was almost on top of her.

  “I’m here. How many are you?”

  “Eight of us remain, though three are borderline. I’m not sure they will travel.”

  “Alright, let me think. I have a safe place they can recover. We have trees waiting for them. They will help sustain those who are weak. I just need to get them there.”

  “Marianille?” Birlerion reached out beside him and Marianille flew into his arms. “Are you really alright?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Birler. It’s been so long. And we’ve lost so many. Marguerite did what she could, but her presence has faded as we stirred.”

  Jerrol ignored their reunion as he reached out, thinking of the Sentinal he had rescued and left in Marchwood Watch overseeing the newly planted nursery of sentinal trees.

  “Laerille?”

  “Captain?” Laerille replied in surprise.

  “Are those sentinal seeds we planted ready to receive their companions?”

  “Any time. We have twelve saplings ready for you. Lord William’s men have been working hard. You should have seen them grow. They truly are a Lady’s miracle.”

  “That is good news. I’m not sure how this is going to work. I have three Sentinals, I think.”

  Laerille shouted in the distance. “Anterion! Get ready. The Captain is sending us three Sentinals.” She came back to him. “No worries. We’re ready.”

  “Hold tight. I mean it. I need you to stay connected to me and direct them to the right sapling. I might let go; make sure you don’t.”

  “I’ve got you, Captain. I won’t let go,” she said. The confidence in her voice was reassuring.

  He left the channel open. “Marianille?”

  “Captain?”

  “Who’s first?” he asked.

  “The worst off is Tianerille of Marchwood. She is fading fast.”

  Laerille jerked at the name. She hissed her breath out and called through the link she had with Jerrol. “Tianer?”

  A small gasp shivered through him, leaving a sense of regret. He latched onto the faint essence, tightened his grip, and pulled. His sword glowed a brilliant blue in the dim cave above the rock strata, casting his empty face into dark shadow.

  “Captain? What are you doing?” Birlerion asked as the hum of the sword got louder, vibrating through the rock and him.

  Jerrol puffed out a laugh. “I have no idea. But whatever it is will save my Sentinals.”

  “Then whatever you do, do not release your sword. You are pulling an enormous amount of energy, and I would hate for it to be released unexpectedly.”

  Jerrol laughed out loud at that. “That’s all you’re worried about?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t like to get stuck down here, either. But in the scheme of things, that doesn’t seem important right now.”

  Jerrol shook with the effort, but Birlerion’s calm voice anchored him, and he reached through the Land searching for Laerille. He recognized Marchwood and the pull of one of the sentinal trees drew him up through its roots and he deposited Tianerille into the embrace of the waiting tree. He gasped out loud as he released her, the pain ricocheting through his veins.

  “Who’s next?”

  “Virenion of Marmera.”

  Virenion reached out, tentative but longing. Jerrol grabbed him close and travelled once more through the Land and pushed the Sentinal into the sapling calling him, cringing as the pain hit him at their separation.

  “I need a minute.” Jerrol caught his breath as the pain fizzled through his body; he sucked his breath in as his body trembled with the effort. Birlerion gripped his arm and a jolt of energy flushed though him.

  “Venterion of Marchwood is next,” Marianille called.

  Laerille’s eagerness was palpable, so he reached one last time. “Venterion? Laerille is waiting for you.” A wisp of interest stirred the dry air, and he reached, pulling Venterion through and almost shoving him into the humming sapling, which grabbed him from Jerrol. He steeled himself and groaned, releasing the connection to Laerille and folding in on himself. His thoughts pulled back through the rock layers and into his body, severing his contact with Marianille. He slumped on the floor, gasping.

  Birlerion groaned beside him. “A bit of warning next time, might be nice,” he gasped as he folded over, breathing in deeply against the sudden shock of separation.

  “What’s happened?” Peterion asked as he hovered over them.

  “Just… give me a moment,” Jerrol rolled over and stared at the rock ceiling. “What time is it?” he asked as Peterion helped him sit up.

  “We’ve been here for about four chimes, but you’ve been groaning in your sleep. It sounded like you were in pain.”

  Jerrol wrapped his arms around his body. “It hurts,” he said, closing his eyes as he shuddered. Birlerion wrapped his arms around him, trying to offer comfort. Jerrol relaxed into his embrace and lapsed into an exhausted doze. He was still lying in Birlerion’s arms when he awoke. Peterion hovered over them.

  Jerrol tried to smile. “I guess Birlerion’s told you the news.”

  “Are they really below us? Trapped under tons of rock?” Peterion asked in disbelief.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “And you have helped three of them travel to Vespiri?”

  “As mad as it sounds, yes,” Jerrol said with a wry smile.

  “Your sword was glowing,” Peterion said.

  Birlerion smiled. “Leyandrii guides us.”

  “I transferred the ones in the poorest condition. It was difficult, and I have no idea how to get the others out.” Jerrol leaned back against Birlerion and closed his eyes, comforted by his embrace.

  “We have enough water for a few more chimes here, then we need to return,” Peterion said.

  “Then I suppose we’d better get on with it.” He frowned at Birlerion. “What did you do down there? I felt a surge from you.”

  Birlerion grimaced. “I think you’ll find it was from your sword.”

  Jerrol shook his head. “No, it was you, I’m sure of it. Link with me again. I’m tired, and I don’t want to get stu
ck anywhere. Make sure you bring me back.”

  “Always, Captain.”

  “Get ready for some surprised visitors,” Jerrol said through gritted teeth to Peterion as he sank down through the rock strata taking Birlerion with him.

  “Marianille?” he called.

  Her relief washed through him as she reached out. “Captain? Are you alright?”

  “Sorry, it was more difficult than I expected,” Jerrol admitted.

  “Do we need to do the same thing?”

  “Depends on your condition. I know you’ve only recently awoken, and some of you are in worse condition than others. Although you have been sustained down here, if anyone doesn’t have the strength to cope with the desert heat, then, yes. The desert is brutal. You should only come with me if you are strong enough. I could do with some help here in Terolia but not at the expense of a single Sentinal’s life. I will not risk it. If you have any doubts, then go to Marchwood and spend some time recuperating. That’s an order, if anyone doubted it,” he said firmly. Birlerion hovered beside him intent on the conversation.

  They heard a quick discussion. The voices were clearer, more alert. “I think Illiserille should go to Marchwood if the Captain is able. The rest of us can join you,” Marianille said.

  Jerrol called Laerille and she reached out to meet him. Her weariness tinged his awareness of her. The effort to transfer Sentinals between them was draining all of them. He had no idea how the Lady was helping him, but he was glad she was. “Last time,” he murmured.

  “We’ll take as many Sentinals as you can find,” she said brightly, belying her fatigue and embracing Illiserille as Jerrol released her. Jerrol broke the link and gasped as the pain lashed him. Birlerion bolstered him.

  “Marianille, I need to talk to all of you. Who’s left?”

  “Niallerion, Adilion, and Roberion.”

  “Can everyone hear me?” he asked, spreading his thoughts wide, aware of Birlerion’s quiet excitement beside him. His presence was an unseen strength that sustained him.

  “Yes, Captain,” multiple voices replied.

  “Birlerion is with me. He will assist two of you, and I’ll take two of you. I can’t explain this in words; you’ll have to take the thought straight from my mind. You need to latch onto us and not let go. This is what you need to do and this is where you need to arrive.” He pushed his instructions to the Sentinals and shared his experience of travelling through the rock.

  "I know Leyandrii performed all sorts of miracles, but is that really possible?” A voice sharp with doubt asked.

  Birlerion laughed. “Only you, Niallerion, would question your rescue.”

  “Is that you, Birlerion?”

  “Yes, it’s me. And as I am here with the Captain, it must be possible. I’ll help you and Marianille. We’ll have plenty of time to talk once we’re out of this rock.”

  “If we must.”

  Jerrol reached for Adilion and Roberion. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready,” their voices overlaid each other.

  The Sentinals latched onto him and followed him through the rock strata to their cave. Jerrol and Birlerion awoke, sprawled on the floor and four tall Sentinals appeared before them.

  Jerrol levered himself to his feet, smiling in welcome.

  “Marianille. Welcome home,” he said.

  Marianille’s silver gaze darted around her as she swirled her thick, brown hair around into a rough knot and held it in place on her head with a slender dagger. “Well, that was an experience,” she said as she adjusted her robes, and then she spied Birlerion rising beside Jerrol and she launched herself at him. “Birler, by the Lady, it really is you. You’ve lost weight,” she scolded.

  Birlerion hugged her back. “You can’t talk, you’ve lost weight too. I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

  Marianille wiped away his tears, even as tears streamed down her face. “As I have you. What happened to you?”

  Peterion greeted the other Sentinals as Niallerion watched Marianille and Birlerion.

  Shrugging, Birlerion hugged her again as if trying to convince himself she was real. “It was chaos at the end. I awoke in my sentinal in Vespers. Versillion is in Greens, and Tagerill in Deepwater. Both are awake and well.”

  “Thank the Lady. And Ma and Pa and Penner?”

  Birlerion hid his face in her neck and rocked her.

  “Birlerion? What happened to them?”

  “I’m sorry, Marianille,” Jerrol began.

  “No, I’ll tell them.” Birlerion took a deep breath. “We were asleep for a long time. Centuries. Leyandrii encased some of us in trees which sustained us in our slumber. Our families are long gone, having lived their lives. We walk in a very different Remargaren.” He stared at the other Sentinals, his silver eyes gleaming. “When Leyandrii destroyed the Bloodstone and banished all magic, she banished herself and Guerlaire with it. She no longer walks this land, and I don’t think Marguerite is aware we’ve woken. It’s been three thousand years and the world is a very different place.”

  Jerrol inspected the three men standing opposite him. Although their faces tightened not one of them spoke. They looked tired, jaded even. As if life had been slowly drained out them over the centuries. Two had the deep brown skin of the Terolians, in comparison the third man, was pale and sickly looking. They all wore long, desert robes, shimmering silvery green in the dim light. The swords that hung on their belts were more curved and were much lighter than the broadswords the Vespiri Sentinals carried.

  Without their trees to protect and sustain them, he was amazed they had survived as well as they had. Marianille was the most vivacious, but he was sure that was due to the excitement at seeing her brother. She was as thin as Niallerion, who looked like he might fade away. He wondered if he ought to offer to transfer them to Marchwood and the sentinal trees waiting for them.

  Jerrol took a deep breath and spoke. “Although the Lady no longer walks in our land, she is still present, and she still has need of us. She has claimed her Captain. I am Jerrolion. Captain of the Lady’s Guard.”

  “I am Adilion of Berbera.” The younger dark-skinned man with blue-black curly hair introduced himself. His silver eyes glinted with interest as he looked around the cave.

  “Niallerion of Vespers.” The youngest Sentinal said. He was thin and gaunt, with busy fingers that flicked the strap holding his sword as if it wasn’t quite right.

  “Roberion of Selir,” the third man said. He was broad-shouldered and slightly shorter than the others. Jerrol thought he was the oldest, though it was just an impression.

  “Marianille of Greens.” Marianille said from her brother’s embrace. She seemed reluctant to let go of him.

  “Welcome, please make yourselves comfortable. I’m not sure where you were expecting to appear, but we are about four chimes ride north of Il Queron.”

  Peterion handed around the water canteen.

  “Considering it seemed like there was little hope of ever coming out, anywhere is good,” Roberion said, his voice gruff.

  Jerrol smiled in sympathy. “How did you all end up here? I thought Marianille and Niallerion were based in Vespers.”

  Niallerion grimaced. “As Birlerion said, it was chaos at the end. The Land was folding in on herself. I think this location was the only solid one in the area and she dumped us all together. Easier for her to sustain us, I guess. She was very apologetic.”

  “Apologetic?”

  “Yes, Marguerite was angry. The Ascendants were causing her severe pain. They were messing with her structure, diverting water, digging deep shafts into her rock, changing her landscape. I think she’d had enough. Some of the changes triggered the volcanoes along the Telusion ranges. She was having to deal with all sorts of problems and trying to save as many of her sister’s people as she could.”

  “The Telusion ranges? Birlerion mentioned them as well. I’ve been searching for them. You’ll have to tell me what you know about them.”

&
nbsp; “Yes, Captain.”

  “Well, it seems history is trying to repeat itself. The descendants of the Ascendants think they can do it again. They tried to overthrow the King of Vespiri and fortunately failed. They are now trying to destabilize the ruling families in Terolia and have nearly succeeded. We are on a mission to stabilize the region. The Families are under siege, though they don’t realize it yet. We are about to go and listen to one of the Ascendants speak in Mistra. It will be interesting to hear what he has to say. Will you accompany us?”

  “Captain, you have but to command,” Adilion said.

  “Are you sure? You don’t need time to adjust? Lady Leyandrii encased each of her guards into a sentinal tree. You haven’t had that. The Lady’s Guardians have sustained them for the last three thousand years. Not all trees survived, so I planted twelve saplings in Marchwood. Four are now populated with your friends. There are trees awaiting you in Marchwood Watch if you need time to recuperate. After all, you have suffered much and a lot has changed in three thousand years. Remargaren will not look as you remembered it.”

  The Sentinals exchanged serious glances, and then Marianille shrugged. “Birlerion looks the same, so some things haven’t changed. We’ve slept long enough, it’s time we lived again.” She smiled at Birlerion and he grinned at her in return and Jerrol left them to reacquaint. The Sentinals huddled round, slapping Birlerion on the shoulder, and Birlerion hugged each of them in turn.

  Walking over to Zin’talia, Jerrol sagged to the floor. “Now we have to figure out how to get them back to Il Queron,” he said.

  “Could you not help them walk through rock again and come out at Il Queron?”

  “I’m not sure I could take them that far, safely. And they certainly can’t walk all the way back to Il Queron in this heat.” Jerrol raised his voice. “Roberion, is there a Waystone near here, do you know?”

  Roberion rose and walked over to Jerrol, shaking his head. “No, Captain. There used to be one in Fuertes, but that is leagues over the other side of the ridge. There is nothing between here and the sea.” He faltered. “At least, there wasn’t. There were no towns nearby, so no reason for a Waystone.”