Birlerion shivered at the pain in his eyes, the guilt etched on his face. “You know it wasn’t the right time, so why do you suggest it?”
Jerrol flinched as if struck, and Birlerion made soothing motions with his hands.
“I shouldn’t have waited,” Jerrol said again.
Birlerion frowned at him. “Zin’talia is outside. You should speak to her; she is upset.”
“Zin’talia? Where did you find her?”
“At the palace where you left her,” Birlerion replied as Jerrol exhaled and then his eyes went distant. Birlerion studied him and after a moment said, “You have nothing to feel guilty for.”
Jerrol jerked as if the word had burned him. Guilt. Birlerion saw it in eyes. He felt guilty for placing Taelia in danger in the first place, and now he felt guilty for not protecting her. Jerrol’s guilt flashed across his face; Taelia, Serillion, the Terolian mines, even what had happened to Birlerion. Jerrol blamed himself for all of it.
The tower trembled around them, stone grating against each other as dust and grit showered them. The building groaned, and Jerrol bowed his head as he struggled to contain his emotions. “I failed her,” he said, staring at his blood-coated hands.
“No, you didn’t. Taelia will be fine, Jerrol. The healers’ will fix her up.”
“I failed them all, even you,” Jerrol whispered, his voice muffled as he dropped his head in his hands. The tower trembled, and Birlerion peered around him in concern.
“Jerrol …?” he began as the floor buckled. “Jerrol, no, wait,” Birlerion shouted. The stone floor split with a resounding crack and they fell into the dark depths below.
Marianille cursed as Taelia lurched into her. “By the Lady, Taelia where have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” Marianille’s voice tailed off as she took in the state of scholar. “Taelia, what’s happened?” Fear sharpened her voice, and Marianille’s arms tightened around Taelia as she wavered.
“Jerrol and Birlerion …” she began.
“Healer first, you can tell me on the way,” Marianille murmured and she led her through the ranks of tents and steered her into a much larger tent. The air warmed imperceptibly, and Taelia’s nose twitched at the aroma of emollients and linen.
“Var’geris abducted me. He wanted Jerrol to shred the Veil. They fought, and Var’geris caught me with his blade.”
Taelia flinched as someone began undoing her robes.
“The healer needs to get to your wounds.” Marianille said, a reassuring presence beside her.
“Var’geris had a knife,” Taelia whispered, her eyes gleaming with a sheen of tears. She bit her lip. “He was threatening me with it to get Jerrol to shred the Veil.” Her side stung as it was wiped down, and then it went numb and she relaxed against Marianille, who was gently swabbing her neck clean. The chill air was cool against her bare skin and she shivered.
“They are shallow cuts. They shouldn’t scar,” Marianille murmured in her ear.
Taelia shrugged. “I’m more concerned with Jerrol and Birlerion. I left them in the tower. What if the Ascendants return?”
“Which tower? Where are they?”
Taelia screwed her face up at the urgency in Marianille’s voice. “It was a stone tower, with spiral steps. Ancient. Marianille, I don’t where it was. Jerrol said they would use the waystone.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
“Jerrol was upset.”
“I’m not surprised. Your robes are covered in blood. It looks much worse than it was. But it no doubt frightened the life out of him.”
The healer began wrapping Taelia in long thin, bandages. “Eight stitches. The wound was not deep, but you must rest, give it time to heal,” the healer said. He handed Taelia a sachet. “When the salve wears off, it will hurt. Take that in a glass of water.” He smeared more ointment over the wounds on her neck and began wrapping more bandages around them. “More for protection against the rubbing of your collar,” he said, patting her shoulder as he finished and moved off.
Marianille helped Taelia into clean shirt and trousers, discarding the robes as a lost cause. “Rest for a moment, Taelia. We can do nothing for now.” Marianille forced her down on a cot, and Taelia scowled at her, but she ached, she hurt, and exhaustion ambushed her as she closed her eyes.
51
Deepwater Watch, Vespiri
Jennery was having a nightmare; at least he hoped it was a nightmare, as he saw Jerrol pummelled to his knees by Torsion. He launched himself at the guards holding Jerrol, shouting he wasn’t sure what, and he was forced to the ground, the two burly guards taking pleasure in face-planting him into the stone-flagged floor. They wrenched him to his feet as Torsion swirled his cloak and disappeared. Var’geris revealed Taelia, and Jennery gasped. He tried to take a step, and then he was watching Jerrol keening over Taelia’s body, and ice ran through his veins.
He stiffened in shock as Birlerion rushed into the room. It was true; Birlerion was alive.
Birlerion stared across the room at Jennery and spoke: “We need time. You have to delay them.” And then the floor collapsed.
Jennery woke up on a bedroll in his command tent. Heart racing, he jerked to his feet in shock, his head spinning. “Birlerion?”
“Jennery! Thank the Lady. We need you. The Elothians are breaking through the lines. We can’t stop them.” Tagerill strode towards him and gripped his arm. “The second unit is falling back. This position will be overrun. We have to move.”
Jennery shook his head and gripped Tagerill’s arm to steady himself. “Regroup to the fallback position; use the reserves to delay,” he said, frantically trying to adjust.
Tagerill looked at him closely. “What has happened?”
“Jerrol’s in trouble. Torsion captured him and Taelia.” He looked at Tagerill his face bleak. “Birlerion is with him.”
Tagerill hissed his breath out. “Birlerion?”
“We need to get into a defensive position. They need time to recover. We have to delay the advance.”
“Right, I’ll take the reserves. You fall everyone else back and dig in,” Tagerill commanded, ducking out of the tent. He looked back at Jennery. “It’s been an honour,” he said, nodding at Jennery before striding off in the direction of the fiercest fighting.
Jennery watched him go in dismay, understanding Tagerill’s intention to hold the line at all costs. Minutes later, he was reeling off instructions; runners departed as he began co-ordinating a strategic retreat to buy the Captain time. But could they buy him enough time? And what was it for?
Ruins of the Tower of Teranna, Elothia
Yaserille stared at the pile of rubble in horror. The only sign that the tower had once stood there. Dust and grit hung in the air and she and Zin’talia retreated further eyeing the stones with caution as they continued to shift and settle.
“Ascendants balls,” Yaserille gasped.
Zin’talia snorted in agreement.
What had happened? Yaserille checked her sense of Birlerion and the Captain and they both sparked in her mind. Not crushed to death then.
Inspecting the mound, Yaserille selected a rock and began shifting some of the rubble, tossing the smaller stones aside and struggling to lever the larger slabs up. The edges bit into her hands; the gritty surface abraded her skin. She paused for a moment with a slab of stone balanced against her back as she tried to pivot it off the pile and knew she was wasting her time.
“This is hopeless,” she said at last as she gasped for breath and rubbed her sore fingers on grubby trousers. Lifting her face to the clear blue sky, she sat back on heels and absorbed the weak heat from the sun which was slowly being encroached upon by thick grey clouds threatening more snow.
Zin’talia approached her, and rubbed her head against Yaserille’s and Yaserille rose to her feet. “I can feel them, so they’re still alive, the question is are they trapped, or have they found a way out?” She rubbed her temple, trying to ease the ache.
“We need more help. But from where?” She racked her brains for a moment. “Let’s try Stoneford.” Leading Zin’talia away from the ruins they entered the waystone and stepped to Stoneford.
Birlerion grabbed Jerrol as they fell, twisting in the air as he pushed his transparent shield around them. The air pulsed as stone fragments ricocheted around them. They landed with a jarring thump that rattled their bones, both gasping for air, choking in the dust-filled darkness.
“What did you do?” Birlerion gasped.
“Me?” Jerrol’s voice was strained. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. The floor collapsed, along with everything else.”
“It must have been you; I don’t have this sort of power,” Jerrol said, feeling around him.
“You’re the Lady’s Captain, of course you have power,” Birlerion said through gritted teeth. “You just need to control it.”
Jerrol digested that for a moment and then asked, “Why aren’t we dead?”
“There’s still time,” Birlerion said, flexing his shield as the weight of the stone pressed down on him. He shuddered, and Jerrol opened his left hand, releasing the soft glow to see where they were. He looked up into Birlerion’s strained face and the rock suspended above them. Birlerion was on his hands and knees, back braced as if he was holding the rock up with his shoulders.
“What are you doing, Birlerion?”
“Giving us a chance. But you need to find a way out fast. I can only hold this for so long.”
Jerrol stared at him, understanding slowly dawning. “You’re the Lady’s shield,” he whispered.
“As the Captain is the sword,” Birlerion replied, gritting his teeth. “But neither of us will be of any use if you don’t find us a way out.” Birlerion’s voice shook, and Jerrol scrabbled out from beneath him.
Jerrol’s eyes widened. “You protected the people of Vespers, didn’t you? At the end? That’s why there were so few people lost. That’s why you were so exhausted and confused at the end.”
“This is not the time for a history lesson, Jerrol,” Birlerion growled.
Jerrol chuckled, surprising himself and Birlerion. “But you will tell me when we get out of here; all of it,” he said as he began searching the small space. “Marguerite? Can you help us?” he asked as he opened himself to the Land, and slowly sank his senses into the dirt below them, much as he had done when searching for the Sentinals in Terolia. The Land embraced him as Marguerite responded to his plea.
“You do manage to find some interesting predicaments,” Marguerite murmured in his ear.
Filtering through dirt and stones, Jerrol grimaced as he followed tiny fissures down through the soil. “Not through choice, I assure you,” he replied.
“Less chit chat, more speed,” Birlerion gasped.
Jerrol reached an opening, which widened out into a large cavern. He heard water dripping and drifted towards it, a mere thought. A tiny glow appeared in the cavern ceiling, a blue-green light suspended on the finest gossamer thread, followed by thousands of tiny pin-pricks of light illuminating a way out. He felt the slightest breath of air against his cheek, and he inhaled deeply, wincing at the pain in his chest. A flash of light caught his eye, and he flowed towards it. He reached for the crystal, for that was what it was, the last piece. The edges sliced his skin and it greedily absorbed his blood, merging with him as the other pieces had and fading into his palm. Heat flashed through him, and he stilled as he assimilated it.
“You have to return,” Marguerite whispered. “I cannot enter the tower, but I can give you this.” He felt a jolt of energy wrapped around a host of sensations and images, which he absorbed. His aches and pains faded.
Jerrol curled the fingers of his left hand into a fist, feeling the bite as the edges cut into his skin. The crystal had absorbed his lifeblood just as fast as he absorbed the crystal. His hand was a bloody mess, but he could still feel the crystal as if he was holding it, though it was gone from sight. The final crystal: he had found all three. They just seemed to appear out of nowhere as no doubt the Lady and the Land had planned.
He suddenly jerked, his body stiffening as the crystal entered his bloodstream, rushing through his veins. His heart stuttered as the bloodstone became one with him and the Lady’s arms cradled him, holding him tight. “All will be well, my Captain,” she whispered. “All will be well.” He closed his eyes in acceptance of what would be, listening to the Lady’s voice sing through his body.
When Jerrol opened his eyes he was once again laying at the foot of the largest sentinal tree he had ever seen. He slowly sat up. His hand hurt. The final crystal was working its way into his system. Changing him. He hoped whatever it was doing would be for the better.
The Lady approached and smiled brilliantly at him. She cupped his face. “The final step is yours to take,” she said. “You will know what to do when the time comes. My shield is at your side. Know that I will always be with you both. You are the hope of Remargaren.”
His vision shimmered, and Birlerion’s anxious voice was demanding he wake up. Birlerion awkwardly gripped his hand, trying to stem the blood.
“Ow,” he said out loud, and Birlerion flinched back.
“For Lady’s sake, Jerrol, what are you trying to do to me?”
“Sorry. When duty calls, it seems I don’t have much choice but to listen.”
“Well, tell Leyandrii to at least patch you up better!” Birlerion snapped, his voice cracking.
“I’ll tell Her next time I see Her,” Jerrol promised and wadded a piece of his shirt in his palm.
“What did you do?” Birlerion asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jerrol replied, frowning at his hand. “I saw something flash, and I picked it up, but I don’t know where it went.”
Birlerion’s sigh was resigned.
“I think I have found a way out,” Jerrol murmured, focusing back on the floor. He slowly pushed further, creating a tunnel, deliberately not thinking about what he was doing. Time passed as he gradually tunnelled down to the cavern below. He eased back into Birlerion’s arms, aware of the effort they were both expending, and Jerrol looked up into his taut face. “I learnt how to tunnel,” Jerrol said as he opened his hand to reveal the silver light that flared and sparkled in his hand. Birlerion’s eyes widened at the sight and his gaze followed the light over to the wall, and his mouth fell open at the sight of the gaping hole sloping downwards.
“I think we’d better leave sooner rather than later,” Jerrol said, wheezing like an old man. His body ached, a reminder of Tor’asion’s fists. “You can’t hold this for much longer.” He eased himself feet first down the man-sized tunnel. It was very narrow, but the edges were smooth. The stone crowded in on him and he tried not to think about getting stuck.
Jerrol’s feet flopped as empty space opened beneath them, and he frantically felt around for the ground. Easing forward, he balanced on the rim of the tunnel, his arms braced either side, and heard the shingle slide beneath his feet. He let out a relieved breath and eased down on to the shelving stones and then turned to help Birlerion down.
He watched as Birlerion gingerly inched his way down the tunnel, an intense look of concentration on his face. His grimy shirt was in tatters, revealing his emaciated frame and the scars that marred his skin. Adeeron would be haunting them both for the forseeable future, they both needed to put some weight back on. A strengthening breeze rose from below and cleared the dusty air.
There was a creaking groan and a rush of dust and grit as Birlerion suddenly relaxed and slid out of the hole. The stone collapsed onto the rock strata above them with a dull thud that shook the cavern. Jerrol steadied Birlerion as he took a deep shuddering breath and shook out his arms as if they had been physically holding the stone up above them.
“You got that light?” Birlerion asked as the sound of a loud plop hitting the water nearby made him jump. “What was that?” He flinched as the shale shifted under his feet and Jerrol held up his hand.
> “This is a limestone cavern; water seeps through it where there are weaknesses in the rock, dripping into the lake below. That’s the sound of the water dripping. The echoes make it sound very loud,” Jerrol said as he rotated, lighting up the cavern. Together, they staggered down to the water’s edge.
“Are you sure this is the way out?” Birlerion asked, peering into the darkness. The air was damp and chill and smelt of old stone.
“Just follow the lights.”
There was a pregnant pause. “What lights?”
“The lights in the ceiling, like twinkling stars of blue and white,” Jerrol replied, closing his fingers to shut off the glow. He looked up at the swathe of tiny points of lights above them.
The darkness was filled with the sound of sliding shale as it shifted under their feet and the lapping of water as the stones disturbed the smooth calm. The water looked very deep, dark, and uninviting and, once the ripples from the sliding shale settled, very still. The cavern ceiling extended high above them, and the plops of water dripping from the heights echoed loudly in the silence.
Birlerion hesitated, then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, and, taking a deep breath, he took a step forward into the inky river. His breath caught as the icy cold water bit his legs. “Any chance you could magic up a boat for us?” he gasped as he edged deeper into the water.
Jerrol chuckled through chattering teeth. “Not on such short notice.” The water was deathly cold, and Jerrol cringed as the water crept over his cuts and bruises. His ribs ached in the cold, which stole his breath. The water was freezing and sapped what little strength their weary bodies had left. The cavern was silent except for the gentle ripples they made as they swam and the occasional heavy plop of water echoing through the tunnels. The darkness was thick and consuming. The damp tang of minerals filled their nostrils.
“It’s very peaceful, isn’t it?” Jerrol said as he gazed at the twinkling stars above him.
Sentinals Justice: Book Three of the Sentinal Series Page 40