“Silva, sit,” the voice of the Atolean Medera, Maraine, rang out. “All of you, please sit.” She looked around the tent; a diminutive woman demanding attention. “Thank you. You were all invited to this Master Conclave, the first of our time, as the voice of your Families. What is discussed here will affect our future. Pay attention, open your eyes; listen with the ears and heart of the Medera. The future of Terolia depends on it.”
“What gave you the right to call a Master Conclave?” one of the Mederas from the lesser families asked.
“I called it,” Jerrol said, his quiet voice surprising them all.
“This is Captain Jerrolion of the Lady’s Guard and these are his Sentinals,” Maraine said, indicating the tall men and women standing behind Jerrol.
The Terolian leaders stared at them.
“Sentinals? There are no Sentinals in Terolia. There are none in Remargaren,” Reina of Solari said.
The Sentinals stiffened, their eyes glinting dangerously. They had not believed that the Families would doubt their existence. At Jerrol’s signal, they spread out around the room; easier for the leaders to appreciate their height, their archaic uniforms, and their glinting silver eyes. The room fell silent, the leaders watching, wide-eyed.
“Medera Reina, of course the Sentinals exist. You know your history. Mederas are famed for their long memories, after all. When the Lady sundered the Bloodstone, she took all magic out of Remargaren and left her Sentinals bound to their trees. To guard and watch; to remind people of the Lady’s protection. There is a Sentinal in Ramila named Tarenion. There is a Sentinal here in Mistra; meet Kayerille.” Jerrol pointed towards the Mistran Sentinal.
Stepping forward, Kayerille nodded her head, her silver eyes flashing. “Medera, Sodera,” she said politely. Her voice was deep and rich and resonated around the room. She stepped back and resumed her stance. The leaders stared, some with jaws dropped, others swallowing nervously.
“Please also meet Roberion of Selir, Adilion of Berbera, Niallerion of Vespers and Marianille of Greens.” As Jerrol pointed, each Sentinal stood forward.
“Where did the other one go?” A small fidgety man seated to the right of the Solari Medera asked.
“Birlerion? He guards our privacy.” Jerrol took a deep breath. “The Lady expects you to honour your oath and your laws. After all, your ancestors wrote the laws. They were agreed to by all the families, but for some reason, you have forgotten them.”
“We have not forgotten our oaths or our laws,” Medera Silva of Kirsha snapped, glaring at Jerrol.
“I was trying to be polite. I assume you have forgotten them, otherwise, why would you allow the people of Terolia to suffer? Not deliberately, I hope.” His silver eyes flashed in the candlelight.
“We protect our families and the families of Terolia. We do not have to answer to you,” Reina said.
“Really? The Lady thinks differently. Have you visited the villages of Marmera or Melila lately?”
The leaders exchanged wary glances. “Why would we?” Reina asked. “They are far to the south, on the borders.”
“Why not? They are your people, too. You swore to look after them in the Lady’s name. Do you ignore them because they are far away?”
“You forget who you are talking to,” the stern-faced Medera of Kirsha rose to her feet.
“No!” Jerrol slammed his hand on the table and Silva sat back down. “You forget your responsibilities. People who you swore on your blood oaths to protect are dying, and you do nothing. Ever heard of the Telusions?” Jerrol paused, glaring around the room. The leaders were all staring at him, stunned. “No one? You surprise me. I’m sure they’re listed on your maps. Well, maybe not the mine that the Ascendants made your people dig by hand; the very people you allowed to be sold as slaves and kidnapped from their homes overnight, leaving villages deserted.”
Jerrol waited. Silence. “Since when have the Medera supported slavery? Since when have the Medera allowed heathens to make money from your people? Are you all rich now? Is that what you wanted?”
“It’s not slavery. We exchange people as agreed in the laws. To balance out the families, so no one grows too big. It is all written in the book.” The Gusarian Medera spoke slowly as if hesitant to bring attention to herself.
“Have you looked around Mistra recently? Have you visited the slave pens? Or the pens in Ramila? Stinking holes of death and disease. You can’t miss the smell nor the shackles. All spell slavery to me.
“People in despair. Your people locked up because they worship the Lady; locked up and sold because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. How did that impact their families, do you think? A father or mother who never returns home. They can no longer pay for their dwellings. They get thrown out on the streets and arrested for loitering and end up in the slave pens; whole families split up and sold, shipped out of Terolia or into the mines.
“What about the children? The future of your families, torn from their family’s arms or abandoned needlessly.” His voice dropped as he stared at Medera Reina of Solari. Her face tensed as she caught his eye and she looked away.
“I’d make you visit the mine, except it’s not there anymore, along with over one thousand of your people. You let them suffer, you let them die, and you do nothing.”
“We didn’t let them die. We knew nothing about them,” the Solari Medera protested.
“But you should have known, shouldn’t you? You cross the Terolian deserts daily. I mean, you are the leaders of the Families; the people ruling Terolia; the inheritors of the Lady’s Oath sworn by your ancestors and religiously handed down from generation to generation. It’s part of your initiation as Medera, isn’t it? It is as important as the Families laws, which, if I remember right, forbids slavery. Doesn’t it say that all are family?”
He quoted the words from the Law: “The Families protect the right of all, whether they be male or female, to move freely as they wish; to welcome nomads joyfully to your hearths; to provide access to water, shelter, and vittles as if they were of your own family and to allow them to go on their way.”
“Who are you to quote our laws to us?” The Gusarian Sodera spoke, his tattoo of three yellow concentric circles visible on his cheek in the candlelight.
Jerrol straightened his back and glared at the man. Power ran through his veins and he held it ready. The Gusarian leaned back from him, instinctively.
“I am Jerrolion,” he paused before continuing, his voice weighted, deep, and commanding. The air crackled around him. “Captain of the Lady’s Guards, Commander of the King’s Justice, Keeper of the Oath, and I teach you your laws because you have forgotten the meaning of them. And if I must, I will teach you each and every one of them until you recall why you are the Medera and Sodera of your families, or you will hand over your rule to someone who will listen.”
There was a stunned silence as the Jerrol’s words resounded in the tent. “Let me introduce you to Mat’iller of Melila. Maybe you will listen to him.” Jerrol turned towards the entrance where Birlerion raised the flap and gently ushered Mat’iller inside. Even washed and dressed in clean robes, Mat’iller’s gaunt frame, haunted eyes, and general poor condition was obvious. Jerrol led him forward. “Mat’iller, tell the Mederas where we found you.”
But Mat’iller stared around the tent and burst into tears, as if overwhelmed by the opulence and comfort. Jerrol patted his back and let Kayerille lead him away. Turning back to the Terolian leaders, he explained. “We found Mat’iller inside that mountain in a warren of caverns that had been hewn by Terolian blood. Never seeing the sun, existing in the dark, starved, dehydrated; worked to the bone until they died and were replaced by other Terolian bodies and the cycle repeated.
“Mat’iller has been enslaved for nearly three years in the Telusion mines. His wife and daughter died, along with over a thousand other Terolians when the Ascendants blew up the mountain with them still in it. It collapsed in on itself. We managed to save forty-two peo
ple. Forty-two,” Jerrol repeated, his voice like death, “out of over one thousand, and you knew nothing about it. They are your people. You should know where every one of them is. They are your responsibility; your Family.”
The tent was silent.
Maraine rose. “I asked for this conclave because our Families are disintegrating around us. We have lost touch with our people, and I don’t know why. I know the Lady would be disappointed in all of us. We are failing our people.” She looked around her fellow Mederas. “We have stepped away from the Lady’s path and suffered for it. Our people are suffering for it.”
“You may have done,” the Kirshan Medera said, curling her lip. “But I haven’t. I honour my vows.”
Jerrol pounced on her. “What about the empty villages of Marmera and Lez, the depleted township of Melila? They all died in that Telusion mine. That mine has been worked for years with the blood and sweat of your people and you never noticed. Your outriders never noticed? They must have! What did you do about that? How is that honouring your vows?”
“He’s right. We should have known what was going on. They are our people.” The voice of the Solari leader broke the silence as she rose from her seat. “This is our country, yet we don’t know what is happening inside it. Why is that? When did we lose sight? When did we forget the tight bonds that tie us all together? I am just as guilty. My Family argues, yet I do nothing. Since when do heathens tell us how to live our lives?”
The room broke into a babble of voices as the Mederas and Soderas justified their actions and their leadership. Birlerion entered the tent and stood behind Jerrol’s shoulder, a reassuring presence.
Jerrol caught Maraine’s eye and she nodded. He closed his eyes briefly and asked for the Lady’s blessing for what he was about to do.
“Enough!” he shouted, his control slipping. “Are you not listening? The Lady stands in judgment and finds you lacking. Your people are dying needlessly. You abandon the helpless and ignore the plight of the less fortunate. And all you do is justify yourselves?” He glared at them as, one by one, they shrank before him. “You will reaffirm your oaths to the Lady, here tonight, or you will no longer be the voice of a ruling Family.” The leaders gasped before him but kept silent in the face of his unadulterated fury. He seemed to glow as he spoke, his silver eyes brilliant.
“You will agree to the unification of Terolia and Vespiri under the rule of King Benedict, as it was in the time of the Lady. He will protect your borders and his Sentinals will protect you and your people,” Jerrol bit out, restraining the need to pace.
The Sentinals crashed their fists against their chests in a show of strength.
“You will close down the slave trade and you will clean out your towns of those undesirables preying on your people. You will re-instate family law and re-engage with the town councils on a regular basis.
“How you do that is your business, but you will do it.” Jerrol stood straighter, his face rigid, his voice low and full of power. “In the name of the Lady and King Benedict, you will do these things. The Sentinals will help you. You will rectify all that has gone wrong in Terolia and you will help those you have failed. And if I ever have to come back here and tell you again, you will regret it.”
Maraine stood, her face pale and determined. “I, Maraine, Medera of Atolea, swear by the Lady that I will uphold the oaths and the laws of our land. I agree to all demands as stated by the Captain, and those things will be done. In return, I will remain the Medera of Atolea and speak for my Family and accept the protection of King Benedict and his Sentinals.” She sat down again, digging her Sodera in the ribs. He struggled to his feet, frowning at her, but he repeated her words firmly before sitting back in his chair, whispering, “That was quite unnecessary. I was going to swear so, anyway.”
The Medera of Solari rose and nodded at Maraine. “I am grieved by our failures and our lack of discernment. She repeated the oath and sat down, staring at her hands.
“You would hand Terolia over to a king of another country?” Silva spat. “Without a fight?”
Maraine faced her. “We have already lost it. Our country is not ours. Our words are ignored and our people die needlessly. Do you prefer the Ascendants as masters? Do you prefer their rhetoric? They claim that only the pure of blood lead the people and all others should bow down before their betters and obey. Is that the law you wish to uphold?” she asked, glaring around the table. “Is it? I prefer the Lady’s gentle guidance and to remain the voice of my Family.”
Silva sat back in her seat, shocked. The Atolean Sodera snorted. “Gentle?” he asked, glancing at Maraine and then at the furious Captain, still glaring at them from the end of the table.
“He hasn’t drawn his sword, has he?” she replied.
“There’s still time.”
Maraine’s lips twitched before she straightened her face and glared at each of the remaining leaders until they stood and swore to the Lady. Only the Medera and Sodera of Kirsha remained.
Maraine sighed. “Silva, Ricard. You have led your Family well; why do you not swear your oath to the Lady?”
Silva leaned forward. “I don’t need an outsider to tell me how to manage my Family. You are all fools. You say you don’t want heathens telling us how to live our lives. What is he, then, but a heathen?”
“No, he isn’t. He is the Lady’s Captain, come to show us the error of our ways. In Her name, he speaks. In Her voice he demands. Can you not hear?” Maraine asked.
“Hear what?”
“The Lady. Can you not hear Her? Why do you think we swear to him? He is Her vessel, and through him, we are offered a second chance. We will not get another.” Maraine drew herself erect. “Kirsha, this is your last chance.”
Jerrol stirred at the end of the table. All eyes swivelled to him. “There are some who act out of character; they can’t help it because it has been imposed on them. It is called Mentiserium, and the Ascendants are expert at it. Those without the defence of the Lady are more susceptible.” Jerrol walked around the table until he was opposite the Kirshan Medera. “It is a mind spell, triggered by keywords. Only I don’t know the keywords that may have been used here. I can try a few, but they may not be the correct ones.” He hesitated and then said, “Silverwood. Blackstone.” He thought a moment. “Redstone.”
The Kirshan Medera slumped in her chair and her sodera rose to his feet, horrified. “He’s killed her!” he shouted. “Call the guards!”
“Silva, tell us what you have been instructed to do,” Jerrol said, ignoring her seder.
Silva raised her head and stared before her. “Allow the Ascendants access to the Telusion mountains and the port of Feril. Keep suspicious eyes averted. The pure of blood will rule; all unworthy should bow before them. We must prepare the way for the new leader.” She fell silent.
The men and women around the table gaped at her, horrified.
“Who is this new leader?”
“He will be revealed when the time is right.”
“Why do the Ascendants need the port of Feril? Who is running it for them?”
“The Portmaster monitors the port. He allows the Ascendants docking for their slave ships and for their cargo ships. They trade people and goods with Birtoli and Elothia.”
“Where do the supplies come from?”
“Across Terolia. Every town has a goods store. Once they have a shipment, they tell the Kirshans and we send word to the port. They arrange the transfer.”
“What have you been promised for your help?”
“To be the first Family; the family of pure blood. All others will bow before us and do our bidding.”
Jerrol ignored the gasps. “Who will be the second Family?”
“There will be no other Families.”
“Anything else you want to ask before I wipe this spell away?” Jerrol asked.
Maraine stood, her face paling. “Who arranged this service with you?”
“Var’geris speaks. We listen. He and his brothers se
e all. They created the network and my Family provide the connections.”
“Could you identify the Ascendants to us?”
“Of course.”
“Captain, can you make sure she remembers the people and the processes so that we can shut them down?”
Jerrol considered her request and nodded. “No further questions for now?” he asked the hovering leaders. They shook their heads, silenced by the inescapable fact that one of their own had betrayed them. “She will convulse when I release her. Make sure you hold her down, so she doesn’t hurt herself.”
Jerrol focused on Silva. “Silva. You will remember the agreement you put in place with the Ascendants. You will assist the Medera of Atolea and her colleagues with any questions they ask and you will answer truthfully. You will no longer be subject to the instructions left to you by the Ascendants, and you will not be affected by any future attempts of Mentiserium. Redstone.”
Silva started to convulse in her chair and reluctant hands eased her to the floor. Her seder backed away until he bumped into the canvas wall. Roberion moved to block his escape, and he stood still, staring at his wife in horror.
Jerrol took a deep, steadying breath and rubbed his face before walking around the table to Nil’ano. “You get all that?”
Nil’ano nodded, dumbfounded. “Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve redrawn the map.”
Jerrol grinned, his silver eyes a little wild. “Make sure you get each leader to sign against their oath. Once they have all signed, I will sign and you will witness. Understood? For Kirsha, just list them as deposed, position open. We have a majority of five to one, which is sufficient.”
“Yes, Commander, um … Captain,” Nil’ano stuttered.
Jerrol turned back to the room. “Silva won’t remember everything that’s happened. She will only remember the agreement, and she may be distressed. She agreed to it because that was what she wanted in her heart. Her husband, I would suggest, is still enspelled and should be restrained for his safety until you find his keywords. When you clear out the Ascendants’ offices and the temple leaders’ offices, look for small black notebooks. They tend to keep a list of all the people they have enspelled with their keywords. They can’t remember them otherwise; there are too many.
Sentinals Rising: Book Two of the Sentinal series Page 35