Sentinals Justice: Book Three of the Sentinal Series

by Helen Garraway

  Jerrol frowned. “Is it a distance thing? They’ve taken him further away?”

  “No … I suppose it could be.” Chryllion rubbed his temple. “I don’t know. It’s not like Serillion; it isn’t the same feeling. We think he’s still alive, but whatever’s happening isn’t good.”

  “Then we won’t waste time. Jason, warn Tyrone; we’ll probably bring Torsion back here. He didn’t look too great from what Ari showed us, though I don’t know what his injuries are. Chryllion, I’ll create a waystone up at the towers, make it easier for you and Jason to keep an eye on them.” Jerrol grimaced at the two Sentinals Adilion had collected from Marchwood. “Tianerille, Venterion, I hope you are ready; there is a lot that needs putting right at the towers.”

  Tianerille’s laugh was more like a growl. “Don’t worry, Captain, we’ve rested enough; we are ready.” The two Sentinals had been recuperating in Marchwood since Jerrol had woken them in the rock strata under Terolia; the same place where he had found Niallerion and Marianille.

  “Let’s go and see what Torsion can tell us.” Jerrol mounted his horse and led the Sentinals down the road. It was at least a day’s ride to Velmouth and then they had to climb up to the towers. “Keep alert, we weren’t intending on riding anywhere,” Jerrol said, his voice sharp as they turned onto the road to Velmouth.

  It was dark by the time they reached Velmouth, but Jerrol was insistent that they keep moving, ignoring Niallerion’s concerned gaze.

  “Captain, stop a moment.” Niallerion pulled his horse in front of Jerrol. “You’re cold, wrap your cloak around you. We weren’t expecting to be travelling all night. We ought to stop and rest. For the sake of the horses, and Tianerille and Venterion. They haven’t ridden for a while.”

  Jerrol pulled up, staring at Niallerion and then the other Sentinals.

  Venterion winced as he met his gaze and shifted in his saddle. “Much as I hate to say it, a chance to stretch out lazy muscles would be a relief.”

  Tianerille was quick to agree, stretching out her back and wriggling in her saddle.

  “Of course, I’m sorry. I never thought,” Jerrol said.

  “We all want to get there as fast as we can, but we won’t be able to function if we don’t rest.” Tianerille wiggled her fingers. “And who knows, I might even be able to resolve some of Venterion’s aches and pains. A nice massage wouldn’t go amiss, now, would it?”

  Venterion’s silver eyes gleamed as he grinned back at her.

  “You should have said earlier. We could have stopped at the inn,” Jerrol said.

  “It’s only a mile back down the road. Let’s return there and start again in the morning. We’ll stay just for a few hours, until dawn,” Niallerion suggested.

  Jerrol allowed Niallerion to lead them back. He followed, concentrating on trying to relax; his muscles were so tight, they ached. On arrival at the inn, Niallerion found them rooms and they shed their gear and relaxed in the empty parlour.

  After a glance around the room, Tianerille moved behind Jerrol and began massaging his shoulders. “So tense, my Captain, it’s not good for you.” He relaxed into her hands, and she worked the knots out of his muscles.

  “I can’t help it. The towers evoke memories I don’t want to think about.”

  “Then we’ll have to change that. For now, let your mind drift and think about your young lady. Yes, we heard; congratulations, by the way.”

  Jerrol chuckled as he tried to relax. “Where did you learn to do this?”

  “My father was a healer. He taught me many tricks to help with injuries and stress. He said I’d see both as a ranger; he was right of course.”

  Jerrol’s head hung down as Tianerille massaged his neck, his mind drifting in a haze of contentment, when dinner arrived. He almost groaned out loud when Tianerille stopped her magic.

  “I’ll be rubbing Venterion’s butt later if he asks me nicely.”

  Venterion chuckled as he sat at the table. “If you want the favour returned, you’ll be nice to me.”

  Tianerille laughed and sat beside him, her arms as thick as his as she rested them on the table and inhaled the aroma. She sighed. “I’ve missed this. You don’t realise how little sensation is around you until your senses are overloaded with a delicious stew.”

  “I’m sorry to be pitching you straight in without any time to adjust,” Jerrol said, fumbling the spoon in his left hand as he helped himself to the potatoes. He gritted his teeth and clenched his mutilated hand below the table, his massage-induced sensation of lazy relaxation already lost.

  “Best way, probably; doesn’t give us time to overthink it,” Venterion replied. “It sounds like the Ascendants are causing as many problems now as they did in our time. The Lady expects us to stop them.”

  “Well, we stopped them in Vespiri and Terolia. Elothia is probably next. I believe that is where they’re retreating to, taking Birlerion with them. I’m hoping Torsion can tell us where they went,” Jerrol replied.

  “Who is Torsion?” Tianerille asked.

  “A scholar from the Chapterhouse. He specialises in antiquities. I’ve known him for years, since I was a young lad in Stoneford. He was my mentor; he sponsored me into the Chapterhouse when I first came to Old Vespers.”

  “And he was at the Watch Towers when everything happened?” Tianerille asked.

  “Yes, he had been assigned up there for a few months. He was supposed to be alleviating the condition of the Watchers, but I didn’t see any sign of it.”

  “I heard he and Birlerion clashed,” Niallerion said.

  “Yes, they took an instant dislike to each other,” Jerrol admitted.

  Tianerille frowned. “Birlerion is usually a good judge of character, Captain.”

  “I think it was because Torsion reminded him of someone. But Torsion is the only person who may know what happened to Birlerion, so that’s why we need to speak to him.” Jerrol rubbed his face, suddenly exhausted.

  He forced himself to eat, toying with his food, but he could barely keep his eyes open, and as soon as he could, he went to bed. Niallerion had been right. They wouldn’t have made it to the towers without him falling out of his saddle.

  Venterion watched him go. “We’ll take the watch between us. You go and rest, Niallerion. Tomorrow looks like it will be a tough day.”

  Niallerion nodded. “He blames himself for losing Serillion and Birlerion. Along with the Ascendants attacking him, it’s not surprising he doesn’t want to return to the towers.”

  “We’ll be with him, and he has to face it sometime. I guess tomorrow is as good a time as any, and anyway, it’s not his fault; the Ascendants are to blame,” Tianerille said. “He is a sensible man. He’ll realise it soon enough. Go on with you, Nialler; you’re shattered.”

  “Yes, ma,” Niallerion said and retreated before she could clout him.

  Watch Towers, Stoneford Watch

  Jerrol woke with the dawn and dragged himself out of bed, even though his preference would have been to turn over and go back to sleep. His brain thought otherwise, and unwanted memories and images spun off each other and kept him awake. After tossing and turning for a while, he couldn’t stay in bed and rose. He needed answers.

  Venterion and Tianerille both looked fresh and alert and were already waiting outside with the horses by the time Jerrol joined them. Jerrol wondered if they had deliberately feigned exhaustion the night before to make him rest. He scowled as he mounted his horse, but there was no point complaining; they had been right.

  The nearer they got to the towers, the more he tensed. He didn’t want to face Serillion’s loss again. He had failed to protect his Sentinals and the guilt ground through him as he rode. Clenching his hand, he tried to disguise the tremor that was beginning to shudder through him.

  Tianerille moved up beside him, and Jerrol stiffened.

  “Did you know I was posted to Greens when I was a ranger? The lord of the Watch back then, Lord Warren, was an amazing man; generous, kind, and far-sighted
. He knew how to run a Watch.

  “One day, when I was out on patrol, we came across this Terolian. Swaddled in those desert robes, we had no idea who it was; he had scarves wrapped around his head and face. He was riding the most beautiful black stallion; a Darian, for sure. He was gorgeous. There was a blanket over the horse’s withers. I expect they were feeling the weather.

  “Didn’t recognise him, of course, not until he spoke, and even them, it wasn’t until he dropped his scarves that I realised it was Birler. He was exhausted, barely keeping his seat. There was an arrow in the back of the saddle. Terolian saddles had those raised backs, fortunate for Birler.

  “He was being chased; had been all the way from Terolia. Days he had been travelling, determined to reach Greens. We dealt with his pursuers and returned to Birler. He was so exhausted, he couldn’t get back in the saddle. I had to give him a leg up.” She smiled at the memory.

  “Well, you should have seen Lord Warren’s face when we all trailed in. Birler had been determined to get home and warn his father about the Ascendants’ threat against his family, and he did. The Lady watches over him, Captain, as she does you. He’ll be there waiting when we find him. Don’t you worry, he’ll be there.”

  Jerrol eased his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said, somehow soothed by the story. It sounded just like Birlerion.

  They clattered into the Watch Towers courtyard late that evening and the sergeant rushed up to greet them. “I was going to send a message to the keep. The scholar arrived yesterday, all beat up.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In his room. He ain’t left it.”

  “Is he badly hurt?”

  “Just bruises I think; he was more shocked than anything.”

  “Very well, I’ll go and see him. Sentinals Venterion and Tianerille are here to take over the management of the Watch Towers. You and your men will report to them.”

  “Yes, sir.” The sergeant watched the Sentinals warily.

  “Venterion, see what you can find out from the sergeant. Tianerille, you come with me. Let’s see what Torsion can tell us.” Jerrol led the way to tower, his steps slowing as he approached the entrance. He halted as the aroma of dry stone hit him. His heart rate accelerated and he broke out in a sweat as he froze.

  “We are here for answers,” Tianerille’s steady voice said from behind him. “Once we have them, you and Niallerion can return to Old Vespers and leave the towers to me and Venterion.”

  “Answers,” Jerrol repeated and, taking a deep breath, he entered the building.

  They found Torsion in his room on his hands and knees scrabbling about in a box of papers. He jerked up as Jerrol opened the door, an expression of undisguised horror spreading across his face as he leapt to his feet. “Jerrol, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to see you, of course. Why else would I be here?”

  “You were hurt,” he said, his eyes flicking down to Jerrol’s hand.

  Jerrol held up his gloved hand up. “Everything heals in time,” he said. “What about you? The sergeant said you were not well.”

  Torsion tottered over to his bed, where he dramatically collapsed. “I barely escaped with my life. It was terrible.”

  “So I see,” Tianerille said dryly.

  Torsion flicked her a resentful glare. “You don’t know what it was like! If it hadn’t been for She’vanne, I wouldn’t have escaped. They were focused on that Sentinal; I told you he was no good, Jerrol. Why didn’t you listen to me? He was fighting off the rangers and he wouldn’t let anyone into the tower to help you.”

  “He was defending me. It was a good job someone was,” Jerrol said, running a hand through his hair as he tried to contain his spurt of disbelief. Was Torsion really trying to accuse Birlerion of being an Ascendant?

  Torsion’s gaze slid over him and he changed tack. “He was hurt, so they took him with them. I told you he was one of them.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Torsion; you know better than that. Birlerion is no Ascendant, and you know it. Ain’uncer took him because he couldn’t escape without taking Birlerion with him.”

  “Jerrol, look, I know he’s one of yours, but I’ve told you, you can’t trust them.”

  Anger flared through Jerrol, burning off his tension. “Don’t you dare. I told you before, Birlerion is the Lady’s and he is my friend, and if you have nothing to say that will help us find him, then don’t speak.”

  Tianerille slipped passed him. “You’ve damaged your hands, what happened?” she asked, grasping Torsion’s hand and smoothing her fingers over the swollen knuckles and faded bruising. Torsion tried to snatch his hand back, but Tianerille tightened her grip. “They were caused by you punching something or someone, repeatedly.”

  “I had to fight my way out, I told you. I couldn’t stay there. It’s not my fault they took him.”

  “Where were you when you escaped?” Tianerille asked, releasing his hand, and Torsion tucked it under his arm.

  “Amsar. They were boarding a ship. I managed to overpower my guard, and She’vanne helped me escape.”

  “And Birlerion?”

  “They had already tossed him in the hold. I couldn’t help him.”

  “Where were they going?”

  “I don’t know. North, up the coast.”

  “Why did they come back for the guards and horses?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know, Torsion?” Jerrol asked, a bite to his voice.

  Torsion flapped his hands. “It wasn’t my fault. When I was woken by the racket your Sentinal was making, I had no idea what was going on. My first thought was to make sure Taelia was alright, but I got caught up in the fracas in the courtyard.”

  “You didn’t come up into the tower?”

  “No, I told you; I couldn’t get passed Birlerion. When he was overpowered, I thought it would be over, but there was a blinding flash. He did something, knocked us all out. When I came too, I was in a cart with him. He was out cold; I couldn’t get him to respond.” He flicked a nervous glance at Tianerille as she hissed. “I pretended to be unconscious and I overheard them speaking. They’re after the grand duke; they were going to Retarfu.”

  Jerrol frowned. “Retarfu? Why not the Summer Palace? The grand duke would have relocated by now.”

  Torsion shrugged. “That was what they said. When we pulled up at the dock, I managed to slip away while they were unloading Birlerion. I had to fight off some of their guards, but She’vanne appeared and we escaped. It took us weeks to get back here.”

  “Why didn’t you go to Stoneford? It was closer,” Tianerille asked.

  Torsion scowled. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I let She’vanne choose where we went. As I said, it’s taken us weeks to get back. Now, do you mind? I’ve had a terrible experience. I need to rest.”

  Tianerille smiled, though it didn’t reach her glittering eyes. “That’s right. You ought to stay in bed; the best place for you. The Captain will create a waystone, and I’ll escort you to Stoneford. Their healer will soon have you sorted.”

  “That won’t be necessary, a good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, we don’t want to take any risks. I think you ought to see the healer. But for now, rest. I’ll send some food up for you.” Tianerille hustled Jerrol out and shut the door on Torsion’s protests. She wouldn’t let Jerrol speak until they reached the ground floor.

  “There’s something not quite right about him,” she said.

  “Do you think he’s been enspelled? The Ascendants have discovered Mentiserium.”

  “It’s possible. You need to be careful about believing anything he says. The only thing that rang true was him not being able to get past Birlerion. He was annoyed by that.”

  “We still don’t know where they were going.”

  “North, into Elothia. There’s not much in the north of Elothia. It shouldn’t be hard to find him.”

  “It’s the cold season. It’ll be snowed in.”


  “Which means they’ve gone to a large town. They wouldn’t get through the snow off the beaten track.”

  Jerrol stared off into the distance. Retarfu was in the west, clear across the other side of the country. If he went there, could he find a way into the north?

  “You should create your waystone, Captain. Time for you to return to Old Vespers. I’ll take Torsion back to Stoneford. They can keep an eye on him there.”

  “Healer Tyrone at Stoneford has some experience with Mentiserium; he will be able to tell if Torsion is affected,” Jerrol said as he walked out of the building. He stared around the courtyard, his mind churning as much as his gut was.

  Niallerion approached. “You’ve got your work cut out here, Tianerille. Venterion is not impressed.”

  Tianerille laughed. “He’ll be happy sorting it out, then. Come on, Captain, make your waystone; you need to get back.”

  King’s Palace, Old Vespers

  King Benedict of Vespiri and Terolia paced the floor of his study. He stopped by the window and stared out over the terrace that led down into the formal gardens. Dreary grey stone dominated the view as the rain continued to sift down.

  He turned away from the window, a frown creasing his brow as his steward, Darris, announced Commander Haven. His frown deepened as he watched Jerrol enter and kneel before him. How such an unassuming man could be the cause of so much trouble amazed him sometimes. “Rise,” he said. He wasn’t going to talk to the top of the man’s damn head. “Sit.”

  “Thank you, sire.” Jerrol sat before the king’s desk.

  Benedict’s lips twitched at his commander’s wary expression. “I suppose you heard that I received a formal response to my letter to Grand Duke Randolf of Elothia?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “He had the temerity to accuse Vespiri of violating his borders.”

  “What did he say about Elothia’s incursions?”

  “He said they hadn’t crossed the border.”

  Jerrol huffed. “Lord Jennery’s reports have said otherwise.”