“Marian, Finn needs help. You need to get him out of the palace now or the Ascendants will kill him. He can explain. I need to help the grand duke, and delay Var’geris.” Birler shoved Jerrol towards her, turned on his heel and strode off.
Marianille stood there open-mouthed. Then she lurched after Birlerion. “Birlerion, wait!”
Niallerion dragged Jerrol into the room. “Marianille, inside now,” he snapped, and Marianille spun in shock at the edge to his voice. “Now!”
“Tali,” Jerrol crossed the room to Taelia and embraced her. “I have no idea what is going on,” he said, as his mind spun with unease. He knew Birlerion could be decisive; he had never expected this though. “My lieutenant, Owen Kerisk, has sided with the Ascendants. The grand duke has collapsed with some malady, maybe even poisoned like King Benedict, and Birler has just completely disobeyed his orders.”
Niallerion closed the door as Marianille entered glaring at him. “We have no time,” Niallerion said as he pulled out a scroll from behind a chest of drawers and unrolled it on the table. “Captain. We found a secret escape route. You need to go this way.” Niallerion traced a path on the map. “The entrance is off the old cells. Taelia found it. Follow the stairs, and then take the right fork at the end. It will take you through the cells. Keep going down as far as you can and then keep going; there is a door at the end of the passage. It takes you through a tunnel under the wall. Just make sure you camouflage it again when you exit. We may need it again!” He grinned with excitement, his silver eyes gleaming.
“I don’t understand. What did you tell Birlerion?”
Niallerion shrugged. “The truth.” He dragged another bundle out from behind the ornate piece of furniture and thrust it at Jerrol. “I found it for you.”
Jerrol gasped as his sword, Guerlaire’s sword, was revealed. The ornate hilt gleamed in the candle light as he unwrapped it. He belted it onto his right hip. “Thank you, you did very well.” Jerrol gripped Niallerion’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on Birlerion; he will need your support when all his memories return. It is an unnerving experience.”
“Of course, we will.”
Jerrol stared at them. “I can’t thank you enough for remaining here. For waiting. Risking your life every day, not knowing if I would return.”
Marianille snorted. “Taelia knew. She never doubted you for a moment.”
Jerrol’s arm tightened around Taelia’s shoulders.
“Taurillion and Yaserille are here in the city, somewhere. We could do with their help but we don’t have time to find them,” Niallerion said. “I’ll send them after you.”
Taelia stirred in his embrace. “Jerrol, Niallerion discovered they have Owen’s mother and sister under arrest in the Summer Palace, that could explain why he is behaving the way he is, release them and you release him.”
“He did say he didn’t have a choice,” Jerrol replied, frowning in thought. Taelia shivered as his fingers traced her lips. “What would I ever do without you,” he said in wonder as he kissed her.
Her arms slid around his neck, and she kissed him back. Urgent and heartfelt. After a moment she stiffened and drew back. “We can’t. Not here, not now. Follow Niallerion; he’ll show you a way out.” She caressed his face. “You will know me again,” she whispered, placing something in his hand. “Now go.” She pushed him away.
“I think they’ve poisoned the grand duke. See if you can help him,” he called as he followed Niallerion out of her rooms.
He scurried through the palace corridors and down the servants back stairs after Niallerion. When Niallerion stopped, he stopped. He followed as close as he could, nerves jangling as they dodged the household staff. They paused at the side entrance and after a quick check, dashed across the orange garden, through the barracks and entered the stone building that housed the cells. The cells were dank and cold and he shivered as he remembered being incarcerated in one. His muscles tightened as memories of Ascendant’s fists and excruciating pain followed the thought. He didn’t think he could go through that again. Following Niallerion down the stone steps into the shadowy depths, he recognised when the surface changed to an older facing stone. He ran his hand over the stone. It was familiar. It reminded him of the Chapterhouse.
Niallerion left him at the bottom of the steps with a small pack and a warm cloak. A quick clasp of his forearm and he was gone; heading back to help Birlerion if he could, his concern obvious. Jerrol hesitated for a moment, but there was nothing he could do to help, except get beaten to a pulp again and that would not help anyone. He unwound the bundle of cord Taelia had given him, rubbed his finger over the smooth green stone and looped it over his head, tucking the stone in his shirt. The familiar weight was comforting.
“Jerrol?” Zin’talia’s voice was a soothing balm to the tension constricting his gut. “Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry, Zin’talia, I don’t have time to explain, right now.”
“When did you return? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I lost my memory. I didn’t remember any of you. I’m sorry Zin’talia, I’m going to have to leave again. The Ascendants are after me.”
“Not without me you’re not. I didn’t come all this way just to freeze in a boring stable.”
He took the right fork and descended further, the aroma of damp stone and dirt surrounding him. “Unless you can saddle yourself and meet me wherever this tunnel comes out, I’m not sure how you can.”
“Tunnel? Which direction are you going?”
“Under the cells, north-east, I think.”
Zin’talia fell silent. Feeling his way, he stumbled down the tunnel as it twisted its way into the suffocating darkness. The crumbling dirt pressed down on him, and he flinched away from silky strands of cobwebs and fine frothy roots which trailed down from the ceiling and clung to his face. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to still his racing heart and cursed. He opened his palm. He had forgotten the silvery light that the bloodstone had gifted him, and he sighed out his relief as the silver glow lit his way and revealed an empty tunnel, without any of the lurking horrors his imagination had been suggesting.
When he reached a stone wall, he stopped and searched. Niallerion said to keep going. Ah, there was a gap between the walls. Where they overlapped, he could slide behind them. The passage extended into a thick darkness and he hesitated as he inhaled the musty air. Raising his left hand, the silvery glow in his palm lit his way. The passage kept going down until the stone gave way to dirt and levelled out. The ceiling was made up of a network of tree roots that caught in his hair and cast creepy shadows that trailed after him. He ducked further until he was crawling on his hands and knees, the ground dry and crumbling beneath his fingers.
When Jerrol was beginning to think the tunnel would never end, he finally bumped into a solid wall. He felt around the wall in the oppressive darkness, the dirt crumbling under his scrabbling fingernails as he frantically searched for an exit.
The wall gave under his panicked fingers and he pushed harder and a small section gave way. Light framed the panel as he shoved against it with his shoulder and it finally fell forward and bright sunlight flooded the tunnel. He shaded his eyes against the glare and hesitantly crawled out of the tunnel.
Casting a nervous glance around him, he found the area deserted, and he pushed the mud covered panel shut and disguised the seams with more dirt, until it blended in with the mud around the base of the tree. Scattering a few crumbling leaves for luck, he brushed himself down and scanned the area. He was outside the palace walls. What was he supposed to do now?
“Come to me,” a woman’s voice whispered.
He stiffened as he recognised the voice. “Marguerite?”
Heart racing, he scrambled behind a tree at the thud of approaching hooves. Zin’talia skidded to halt. “Jerrol? Why are you hiding behind a tree?”
Peering round the trunk, he was amazed to see her saddled and loaded with saddlebags and a bed roll. Much like the first time he had ever seen he
r. “Who helped you?”
“Niallerion. I called him. He’s been looking out for me.” He sighed out a relieved breath as Zin’talia continued to ramble on about how Niallerion had been looking after her.
“I’ll have to thank him later,” Jerrol said as he swung up into the saddle and adjusted his sword.
“These Sentinals are quite nice, aren’t they? I miss Birlerion. He always found me Baliweed.”
“I’m sure he will again, soon.”
As he rode away from the palace, the tension in his core eased a little as he accepted it had been Leyandrii’s sister, Marguerite calling him. It wasn’t the Lady. He still felt a hollow emptiness of loss that he hadn’t been able to explain until now, and he wasn’t wearing her uniform, so she hadn’t reclaimed him. He wondered bleakly if she ever would.
Pulling the cloak that Niallerion had given him tight around him, he was thankful for its warmth. He had a purpose. Find Marguerite. She would tell him what he needed to do next.
Taelia and Marianille sat together in the parlour, both silent and tense as they waited for Niallerion. They looked up as the door opened and closed. Niallerion spoke softly. “As far as I can tell he got out safely, though they have sent out troops to search for him. Tor’asion is beside himself, so be careful.”
“I can’t believe you got him out,” Taelia breathed. “Right under their noses.”
Niallerion shrugged. “It was Birlerion. He told Lieutenant Kerisk that Jerrol was locked up, and they should look to the duke. He kept them occupied long enough. By the time they thought to check, Jerrol was long gone.”
Marianille scrunched up her face. “But what of Birlerion. Will they blame him? Do they realise who he is?”
“No. He is unrecognisable in that chevron uniform. They are not expecting him to be anything other than a soldier, so they don’t see anything else. The fact that Birlerion doesn’t know who he is, helps.” Niallerion hesitated. “I can’t explain it, he doesn’t have the presence he usually has. Something that is innately Birlerion is missing.”
“Experience,” Marianille murmured.
“What do you mean?” Taelia asked.
“Birlerion grew up very quickly. Experience and knowledge gave him a depth of understanding. He reminds me of when he was fresh out of the academy. He is instinctive, reactive. When he turned Sentinal, he would consider his response more carefully, aware he acted in the Lady’s name. There was a weight to him; a power even.” Marianille considered and then sighed. “He had the Lady’s presence.”
“He hasn’t acted rashly, though, not until he helped Jerrol,” Taelia said, trying to understand how Birlerion was different.
Niallerion shrugged. “I said it was difficult to explain. He is untamed. Control,” Niallerion said triumphantly. “He doesn’t have the control. Makes him seem younger. Different. Unrecognisable.”
Taelia shook her head. “I’m not sure I agree; he seems no different to me.”
Marianille gave a sour laugh. “Maybe he isn’t. It doesn’t really matter as long as they don’t realise Birler is Birlerion.”
“What of the grand duke?” Taelia asked.
Niallerion’s face grew serious. “The healer is with him. He is saying it is not poison. The grand duke has been under a lot of pressure; they think it may be stress related. Tor’asion and Var’geris have their hands full struggling to get access to the duke. The healer is keeping them away.”
“Good,” Taelia said viciously. “Where is Birlerion?”
“From what I heard, the Third Chevron are in some disarray without Jerrol. Birlerion is back with his unit. Lieutenant Kerisk seems to be maintaining Jerrol’s patrols, and it looks like he is more concerned with the duke’s safety than chasing after Jerrol.” Niallerion paced. “I think we should keep a low profile; we don’t want to draw any attention to us. We still need to be ready for when the Captain is able to return.”
Taelia sighed as she rubbed her face. “I don’t think we can. We need to prevent the Ascendants from regaining control of the grand duke. This is our chance to try and help him. We need to make sure he is alright. I think we need the grand duke on our side when Jerrol returns.”
Marianille groaned. “How is Tor’asion going to react to that?”
Taelia grinned. “You know what? I don’t care. I am going to bombard him with questions, keep him distracted. You need to see if you can get into the grand duke’s chambers. Speak to Birlerion; see if he can get you in.”
Niallerion grinned. “I can help. I know the maid who cleans the barracks. She’ll help us get in. There has been much talk downstairs about Captain Finn, and how things have improved since he’s been here. They all like him.”
“We need to be careful,” Marianille warned. “The staff might not feel the same when they find out who Jerrol is.”
“Let’s hope the staff won’t say anything,” Taelia said. “We can’t do anything about it, so no point worrying. Marianille, call Ari. We need to inform the king what has happened.”
“Keep calm when reports come in, and remember, don’t believe everything they say; they said he was dead last time, and that was obviously a lie,” Marianille reminded them.
33
Somewhere in Elothia
For two days, Jerrol travelled eastwards out of Retarfu. The city soon petered out into frozen fields. Odd white coated mounds loomed out of the blanket of snow, indistinct and unrecognisable. The sharp crack of a branch snapping under the weight of the snow was the only sound in the frozen landscape.
Accompanied by the muffled thud of Zin’talia’s hooves, interspersed with the crunch of ice-covered mud, they struggled across the rough terrain. Snow had drifted around the margins caught by the withered bushes forming frozen barriers. A bitter easterly wind whipped around them.
Approaching a deserted barn, Jerrol slid down from Zin’talia and searched it for anything that would help keep him alive. He eyed the barn thoughtfully, but it was too early to stop; there was still had a whole day before him, and he needed to keep moving. Spotting a ragged blanket bundled in the corner, he used his dagger to cut it in half, and wrapped one piece around Zin’talia’s head and the other around his, his ears and nose were freezing. Leaving the shelter of the barn, he huddled in his cloak as the icy blasts raced down the valley as they struggled onwards, shivering in the bitter wind.
“Jerrol? Where are we going? We need to find shelter.”
“We will, soon.” He had no idea where he was going. He had placed all his trust in the silent pull that dragged him north, as if an invisible magnet had latched onto his core and he was unable to resist its call. The unfamiliar terrain of central Elothia surrounded him. He would never have thought that he would wish for the familiar icy plains around Adeeron, and his winter gear. It was amazing how fast things could change. But his tension eased as he recognised the sheer cliffs of the Unworthy Man’s drop beginning to dominate the landscape, curling away to the north.
He needed to head further south and skirt the edge. There was no way down those cliffs, but every time he veered south, his sixth sense prickled and he was forced to head north.
The grand duke’s Summer Palace was due south of Adeeron on the upper tributary of what would eventually become the River Vesp. The palace was where the grand duke should have been wintering. It seemed obvious now why he wasn’t using it. Jerrol mused on why no one had questioned it before, though even he hadn’t thought to question why everyone was holed up in Retarfu when the climate in the south would be much better.
Saving Lady Guin’yyfer seemed the next logical step; release the grand duke from the noose that the Ascendants held him in and then see how he would act. He turned over a variety of strategies to approach the Summer Palace. Not being familiar with the layout was going to be a drawback, and he had never thought he would be on his own without support. He still couldn’t believe there were no Sentinals to awaken. Surely there had been more Sentinals in Elothia? The Land, Marguerite, he corrected himself, ha
d asked him to save her Sentinals, not to let them give up. He had failed miserably with the only two he had managed to find, but where could the rest be? He hoped Marguerite would have some ideas, but she was silent.
He thought of his Sentinals holed up in Retarfu with Taelia. He had hoped to find help within Elothia. To only find two—two so damaged they no longer functioned—was frightening. He had been convinced there would be more.
Staring out into the wintry landscape, he shuddered. The greying sky looked heavy with snow. His body ached with the cold; his muscles were so tight he thought he might seize up if he didn’t keep moving. He toyed with the idea of heading north. He was sure that was where Marguerite was waiting for him, but he would never survive the conditions. Where was a well-equipped unit when you needed one?
He surprised four of the grand duke’s soldiers as he led Zin’talia out of a culvert, hoping it would lead him downwards away from the barrier of the cliffs. His cold-numbed mind barely took in the fact that these soldiers were not friendly before he released her reins and his sword was in his hand and he was backing away from them. They moved to block his retreat.
Jerrol searched the faces of the men around him. There was no sign of fear, only determination. They also looked comfortably protected from the cold. He raised his sword and one of the men laughed.
Zin’talia snorted, her breath pluming in the air. She reared, forcing one of the soldiers to flinch back to avoid her hooves. She came down with a thud, separating the man from the others.
“There is no way out, Captain Finn. You’ve led us a merry dance, but it ends here. The grand duke was most upset. He wanted to speak with you, but I think you’re too slippery; better to kill you and be done.”
Jerrol glanced behind him; the ground sloped sharply away behind him. How far, he couldn’t tell. Baring his teeth, he said, “Come and get me.” He wouldn’t die alone, that was for sure.
The sound of swords clashing was loud in the still air. As the man to his right advanced, Jerrol turned awkwardly to better face his opponent. His foot slipped on the ice, and he shuffled back, nearer the drop. Jerrol kept an eye on the man to his left, hesitating just out of range. The soldiers knew what he was capable of by now, but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. They didn’t know all that he could do.
Sentinals Justice: Book Three of the Sentinal Series Page 26