Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series

by Helen Garraway

  “Can we create one?” Jerrol asked, hopefully. “Niallerion. Can you explain to me how to create a Waystone? Birlerion tried, but he couldn’t explain it, so I don’t know how to create one.”

  Niallerion considered him. “Captain Guerlaire created the Waystones at the Lady’s behest. You have the sword, I see. As you are the Captain, in theory, you should be able to make them. Captain Guerlaire would skim the directional particles from the atmosphere and centre them into his chosen beacon.”

  “He would do what?” Jerrol asked.

  “It’s not as hard as it sounds. You have his sword so it should be possible. Swing the sword in an arc and the particles will gravitate to the sword. Then, when you thrust the sword into the rock, the particles will coalesce around the point and crystallize in the middle of it.” He paused to take a breath, not used to speaking so much. “That becomes the beacon. It is multi-directional, so you can travel in any direction you wish, as long as there is another Waystone open at the other end.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Jerrol said, offering a silent prayer to the Lady.

  “Let’s try it,” Niallerion suggested.

  “If this works, I owe you a beer.”

  “I look forward to collecting it, Captain.”

  Jerrol strode out of the cave and into the late afternoon sun, followed by his Sentinals. They watched him casting about for a likely rock, and then he unsheathed his sword and waved it above his head before taking a deep breath and plunging the sword point into it.

  A blinding flash lit the sky, and a shimmering chime echoed in the scorching air. Jerrol stood before a newly created Waystone. He gaped at it in amazement before turning back to the Sentinals, a wide grin on his face. “It worked,” he said, the surprise in his voice making the Sentinals smile.

  “Of course it worked. You are the Captain.” Roberion laughed, thumping Jerrol’s shoulder in celebration.

  “I suppose I’d better test it,” Jerrol said, staring at the rock thoughtfully.

  “Maybe one of us should test it, Captain. We can’t afford to lose you,” Marianille suggested, staring at the inoffensive rock.

  “I can’t afford to lose any of you,” Jerrol protested.

  “There are more of us and only one of you,” Adilion said as he stepped forward. Before Jerrol could protest, he shimmered and disappeared only to return immediately, stepping out of thin air. He grinned. “It worked.”

  Jerrol breathed out in relief, trying to calm his sudden panic. “Thank goodness. I owe Niallerion a beer. Don’t let me forget.”

  Niallerion laughed. “I won’t let you forget, don’t worry.”

  “The way to Il Queron is open,” Jerrol said with a smile. “Let’s get the horses. Peterion, did you collect the salts for Erissia?”

  “Yes, Captain, the sacks are all loaded.”

  “Ok, let’s go, then.”

  Chapterhouse, Old Vespers

  Liliian sat at her desk, reading the message from Torsion and knew that they would have to send more resources up to the Watch Towers. The history that was hidden within those towers would be equivalent to the knowledge lost below them in the catacombs, but now was not the time. She was busy searching for whatever she could find about the guardians to help Jerrol.

  She sat back, considering. Jerrol had been concerned about the Watch Towers; worried the King would not protect them fast enough. Maybe it was time—but to send Taelia? She read over Torsion’s message again. He explicitly asked for Taelia and her ability to translate the ancient’s texts; it would be best to send her, especially if he had documents that needed explaining, which was more than they had found here in Old Vespers.

  She rose and descended the stairs, pausing at her assistant’s desk to ask, “Is Taelia down in the new catacomb, do you know?”

  “No, I believe she was in her office this morning with Mary. They were talking about excavating the next level down,” he replied.

  Liliian nodded her thanks as she left his office. She found them in Taelia’s office as expected. She tapped lightly on the door as she hovered outside. Mary looked up and whispered, “It’s the Deane.”

  Taelia raised her head. “Deane, please join us. We were discussing the plans to open the room below the one Jerrol found. We’ve about finished with the upper room.”

  “Well, it will have to wait, because you’ve been re-assigned to the Watch Towers. Scholar Torsion has found some texts he needs help translating.”

  Taelia’s face blanked briefly before a look of caution spread over her face. “Scholar Torsion requested me?”

  “Yes, he’s found some ancient texts similar to those found in the sub-chamber and he needs your help to translate. I think it’s important we take the opportunity to find out what we can from the Watch Towers, and Commander Haven was very interested in them.”

  “True,” Taelia considered a moment. “I think, maybe someone else ought to go. I’m not comfortable going up to the towers with only Torsion and soldiers around.”

  “Torsion won’t hurt you. And your status as a scholar would mean you wouldn’t mix with the guards at all.”

  Taelia flushed. “Umm, Torsion misunderstood out relationship, Deane. I don’t want to raise his hopes unnecessarily.”

  “Mary, would you give Taelia and I a moment?” Lillian asked as she observed Taelia’s heated face.

  “Of course, Deane.” Mary bobbed her head and left.

  “What happened?” Liliian demanded.

  Taelia flapped her hands. “Nothing, he just thought we were closer friends than we are. He wanted me to go with him to the Towers, to be his companion, but I made it clear that’s not how I view our friendship. He didn’t take it very well.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Nothing happened, Jerrol saw to that. Torsion was very apologetic and I didn’t want to besmirch his name over a misunderstanding. We have been friends for a long time.”

  “When was Jerrol here?”

  “I’m not sure. One minute he was telling Torsion to stop, and the next he was gone. But it was enough. I didn’t want to embarrass Torsion further.”

  “Don’t keep things like this to yourself. I can’t deal with it, if you don’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry, Deane.”

  Liliian sighed. “In light of this maybe it is better you don’t go. I’ll find someone else.”

  “It’s not fair. I should be able to go. The history in the Towers is important, and I am the right person to send, only I’m not sure I’d be comfortable alone with Torsion.”

  “I understand. Let me consider what can be done, maybe I’ll recall Torsion to explain himself and send someone else with you. We might find a way.”

  “Thank you, Deane, I would like to help Jerrol, if I can.”

  30

  Il Queron, Terolia

  Jerrol stepped into the brilliant sunshine in Il Queron and continued walking, leading Zin’talia away from the Waystone. Jerrol turned, and in quick succession, Adilion arrived followed by the other Sentinals, all with broad grins on their faces as they drank in the sights of Il Queron before them.

  “We’re truly here,” Marianille whispered, shading her eyes. Peterion and his camel arrived last.

  “Welcome to Il Queron,” Jerrol said.

  The town was much busier than when he’d last seen it. The evening market stalls were piled with colourful fruits or swathes of material, with people happily haggling. The café was open, the aroma of the thick, rich coffee drifting on the dusty air and teasing Sentinal noses long resigned to the smell of dirt and stone.

  Rickety chairs held grey-bearded men arguing amiably over board games or cards. They gradually noticed the newcomers and silence fell over the square as the people gaped at the tall Sentinals striding down the street towards the temple.

  Erissia came out of the temple accompanied by an older man dressed in cream robes and stood grinning on the temple steps.

  “Captain Jerrol, this is Elder Mal’em
. He is the head of our council.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Jerrol said.

  The Elder stared at them wide-eyed as he called for his manservant to take the animals in hand.

  “A moment, if you please,” Jerrol murmured as he followed the excited Sentinals into the temple. Mal’em nodded and hovered in the doorway.

  Jerrol knelt at the altar and gave heartfelt thanks for the Lady’s assistance in finding the Sentinals and bringing them here. The Sentinals knelt around him, and they sighed in contentment as happiness filled the air.

  “I thank you, my Captain. Well done,” her words whispered in his ear. “Welcome home, my Sentinals.” Leyandrii’s voice drifted on the air, casting a benediction individually on each Sentinal.

  Jerrol rose and returned to speak to the Elder. “The Lady is waiting for you.” He said as he ushered the Elder into the temple. “Go on. Don’t keep her waiting.”

  Mal’em slowly walked up to the altar and knelt. He bent his head and froze at the soft chuckle in his ear. “Still so stiff, Mal’em? When will you learn to relax in my home?”

  “My Lady?”

  “Your vigilance will be rewarded. Stay strong. You will be tested further, but know that I am always with you,” and she was gone.

  Mal’em rose, breathless. The Sentinals rising beside him wore the same expression of wonder and amazement.

  “You were right,” Mal’em said as he reached Jerrol. He grinned foolishly.

  “Erissia said she has been cooking another tanjia for us. Lamb, I believe; in expectation of our arrival. She has gone ahead to prepare. Let us join her.” Jerrol said as he led the way to Erissia’s home. They entered her courtyard with the ceiling made of green vines and purple blooms. The sweet aroma from the blossoms perfumed the air.

  “What a lovely scent,” Marianille exclaimed as she entered the room. “How lovely.” She gazed at the colourful rugs and cushions and the green and purple ceiling. “Colour,” she said in amazement and collapsed into the pile of cushions with glee.

  “Please be welcome in my home. May the Lady bless you all.” Erissia said as she arrived behind them. She hurried up to Jerrol and hugged him. “You found them; you are so clever, Captain Jerrolion, and Peterion remembered my salts.”

  “We would never have found them if you hadn’t told us where to look,” Jerrol replied with a slight smile.

  “Then we are all clever,” she said agreeably, tucking her arm in his. “Introduce us, please.”

  “The young lady sprawled in the cushions is Marianille of Greens.”

  Marianille laughed and stood. “My apologies. This is such a beautiful room. Elder Erissia, Elder Mal’em. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “A lady of discernment I see. Welcome,” Erissia replied.

  “This young man is Adilion of Berbera.” Adilion bowed, grinning, as Jerrol continued around the group. “Niallerion of Vespers, Roberion of Selir, and Birlerion of Greens.”

  “Welcome all. You come from far and wide; we must show you a true Terolian evening,” Mal’em said with a wide smile.

  “Please be seated, relax. You are all so tall, towering over me. Sit,” Erissia insisted. She pushed a nervous young woman forward with a tray of glasses. “We have fresh orange or pineapple juice.”

  “Orange?” Roberion sat up. “Orange?” he repeated, eyes bright.

  “No wine tonight. They are going to have a sensory overload as it is,” Jerrol murmured for Erissia’s ears only.

  “I think you may be right,” she agreed, smiling. “They are all so happy.”

  “Wouldn’t you be? After being encased in stone for three thousand years with your friends dying around you.”

  “We don’t forget just because we have a moment of happiness. Relax, enjoy their enthusiasm for life, their appreciation of the things we take for granted. Savour it; it is a gift from the Lady.”

  “Wise as always,” Jerrol murmured as he moved to drop onto a bright red cushion next to a grinning Adilion. Erissia left the courtyard, returning with a tray of flatbreads and dips. Jerrol stretched his legs out and sighed in contentment as the Sentinals tried everything.

  The evening progressed. The tanjia was exclaimed over, consumed, and left them all full and sleepy. Mal’em and Erissia tactfully retired early, after Peterion assured them his sentinal had room for all. Erissia lit a large lantern, placed it on the table, and left.

  Roberion turned to Birlerion. “Tell us what happened. You were there beside the Lady. What did she do?”

  Birlerion stared around their intent faces, his face taut. “I don’t know what she did,” he replied, his voice low. “The Lady called. I responded. But when Guerlaire broke cover, the Ascendants attacked. I only remember falling; I don’t remember much else.” He stared at them, but Jerrol thought it was as if he didn’t see them at all. He was searching his memories; his face paled and his mouth tightened, whatever he remembered didn’t reassure him.

  “The Lady told you to hold true. She believes in you, trusts you. You did what she asked,” Jerrol said, knowing it was true. “Maybe she is protecting you? You keep saying it was chaos at the end. Maybe it is better you don’t remember.”

  Birlerion’s face eased at the suggestion, and Marianille gave him a sympathetic hug as the Sentinals nodded in agreement, murmuring words of encouragement. Jerrol watched as they all tried to reassure Birlerion.

  “Tell us about yourself, Captain, and how you managed to get a Darian.” Roberion’s deep voice changed the subject.

  Adilion shifted and cast a concerned glance at Birlerion.

  “Me? What do you want to know?” Jerrol replied, stirring on his cushions. He had almost been asleep.

  “Everything.”

  Jerrol laughed. “There’s not a lot to tell. I grew up in Stoneford. My father was a King’s Guard. My mother died when I was born. I never knew her. My father died when I was about six, out on border patrol, so the keep fostered me. You could say I grew up in those stone walls, underfoot most of the time in the stables until a new stablemaster kicked me out.” He eased his shoulders slightly in memory and continued.

  “Fortunately, a King’s Ranger stopped by and reinstated me. He sponsored me into the rangers. My friend Torsion, a scholar, introduced me to the Chapterhouse. I studied for a couple of years until I was old enough to join the rangers, and I’ve been in the rangers ever since, doing whatever the king needed doing.

  “Spent the last few months putting out fires in Vespiri, and met my Darian on the road. I believe the Lady sent her when I was in dire need, and she’s stayed ever since. Then the king received a request for help from Terolia, and he sent me over to find out what was going on.

  “The Ascendants seem to be set on destabilising Terolia. They have caused dissension in the Families and are enspelling people to do their bidding. And so, we are here to stop them, and that’s about it.” Jerrol grinned at the listening Sentinals.

  “What he didn’t say is that he saved the king’s life, twice. He put down an attempted coup by the Chancellor of Vespiri and is also the Commander of the King’s Justice,” Birlerion added, a trace of his usual assurance in his voice.

  “It wasn’t just me,” Jerrol replied.

  “Yeah, but you were the catalyst. They would have succeeded if you hadn’t been there, and you know it.”

  “Maybe. I expect the Lady’s Captain will always be in the middle of whatever is happening.”

  “Captain, what do you need of us?” Niallerion asked.

  “Enjoy tonight and tomorrow. Acclimatize to the new Terolia. Have a bath. The day after, we leave for Mistra and a confrontation with the Ascendants, I expect.”

  “As you command Captain. In that case,” Roberion levered himself to his feet. “I will claim the bathhouse first.” He left the courtyard, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

  Marianille laughed. “He has missed the baths. We’ll never get him out.”

  “What have you missed, Marianille? Tell me a l
ittle about yourself.”

  Marianille pouted. “You should be asking Roberion. He asked the question of you.”

  “Ah, but I know he likes baths,” Jerrol smiled lazily. “All I know about you is that you are Birlerion’s sister.”

  “That’s more than you know about the others. I’m sure you didn’t know that Roberion is a sailor, for example, hence his love of water,” she said with a fond smile.

  “I didn’t. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow when he is out of the bath. Ladies first.”

  “Oh, all right. As you know I’m from Greens and have four brothers.” She faltered. “Three brothers, I suppose.” She grabbed Birlerion’s arm. “Versill and Tagerill are alright, aren’t they?”

  “They are fine. I told you, Versill was in Greens all the time and the Captain woke Tagerill in Stoneford, along with Chryllion and Saerille. We found Serillion in the Grove in Greens.”

  “Thank goodness,” she said and after clearing her throat continued. “I was two years ahead of these youngsters.” She grinned at the other Sentinals. “You were all in the same year, weren’t you? Graduates of ’21?”

  “1121, she means,” Birlerion interjected. “But yes, we were all in the same year with Tagerill and Serillion.”

  “Thank the Lady I was well out of it before you came through the Academy. I don’t think the rangers were ever the same again,” she teased.

  “They weren’t that bad,” Niallerion said. “Made it easier for the rest of us. Birler attracted all the trouble. Not through any fault of yours,” he was quick to add as if he thought Birlerion would take offence.

  “I think you can squarely lay the blame of that with the Clarys,” Marianille said with a frown. “Unfortunately, they thought if you didn’t have a blood line with a name to back it up, then they wanted to expel you from the cadets. My father soon dealt with them, though.” She hesitated. “Greens won’t be the same without them,” she said.

  “Penner’s descendant’s still hold Greens.” Birlerion said trying to comfort her. “Simeon is the current lord. He’s a good lad, Penner did well. His sister Alyssa is taking up the guardianship of Deepwater.”