Sentinals Awaken: Book One of the Sentinals Series

by Helen Garraway

  “I’m travelling to visit Lord Jason at Stoneford and Councillor Torsion in Velmouth. Do you want me to take any message with me?” Jerrol asked.

  “I’ll get the protocols written up immediately. Lord Hugh mentioned that the Lords of East Watch and Marchwood were expected at the confirmation so they will have them. If you could take a copy to Lord Jason for me, and please keep it discreet as in the wrong hands we would be undone, that would be a great help, and much sooner than I could get a rider there.”

  “We’ll cut cross-country and pick up the Deepwater road so I should meet Lord Hugh on the way.”

  Garrick paused. “I would spare you a troop to take with you to meet Lord Hugh, but Master Simeon took a guard with him, and I can’t leave the Watch undefended.”

  “Birlerion and I will be fine. I’ll go get the horses saddled and find him.”

  “He walked down to the home Sentinal, round the back.”

  Jerrol grimaced; of course he had. “If I could impose, we left a friend with Silene. Could one of your lads take him a message for me?”

  “Use my desk. I need to find a scribe.” Garrick left, paper in hand.

  In a surprisingly short time, Garrick was handing Jerrol a fair copy of Hugh’s orders, which he tucked away in his pocket. Jerrol thought Garrick might have written them out himself. He gave his message to Garrick, advising Jennery to bring all their things and meet them at the keep at Stoneford.

  He walked around the mansion in search of Birlerion and found him leaning against the graceful sentinal near the lake.

  “It’s Versillion.” Birlerion’s face was haunted. “I wish they had known.”

  Jerrol placed a hand on the trunk. The bark warmed beneath his palm, and he saw a broad-shouldered, red-headed man, a broadsword across his back. Versillion, the second eldest son of Greens who had become a Sentinal. The image faded.

  Jerrol stood back and frowned. “I don’t know how to wake him.”

  Birlerion closed his eyes and embraced the tree. “You told me it was time.”

  “No, I didn’t, you told me.”

  “Semantics, it’s time. Tell him to wake up.”

  Jerrol scowled at the tree. “It’s not that simple,” he said as he laid his hand on the tree. The image came back into focus and Jerrol spoke. “Versillion, it’s time to wake.”

  The image flickered and then faded again.

  Birlerion pushed himself off the trunk and frowned up at the leaves. “Lazy sod.” He squinted at the tree. “Versill, I’ll tell Pa you’re skiving off again.”

  There was no response.

  Jerrol shrugged. “We’ll try again when we come back; we don’t have time now. We need to go and meet Lord Hugh.”

  Birlerion reluctantly left the sentinal and followed Jerrol around the lake and back up to the house.

  Their horses were brought round and, running a soft hand down Zin’talia’s neck, Jerrol gathered her reins and hauled himself into the saddle. Birlerion gave Versillion’s sentinal one last wistful glance and then swung himself up on his horse and followed.

  Chapter 17

  Deepwater Watch

  They were just joining the Deepwater road, intending to turn towards the manor house, when Zin’talia suddenly bounded forward. Jerrol leapt from his saddle as she skidded to halt before a silver-gowned woman standing beside the road. “Taelia! What are you doing here?”

  Taelia smiled up at him, cupping his cheek in her hand. “There is no time, you must hurry. The Lord Captain requires your help.” She shifted her gaze to the Sentinal. “Ready your bow, Birlerion. He has been betrayed.”

  Jerrol stared at her, bewildered. “What are you talking about, and how did you get here?” He ran a hand through his hair. “And how do you know Birlerion?”

  “It doesn’t matter, the Lady bids you hurry.” Taelia pushed him away. “Go!”

  Birlerion unsheathed his bow at her word, raising his head, listening intently. “Captain, this way.” As Birlerion led the way, the racket of clashing swords drew them off the road. They pushed through a screen of scrub and conifers and came to a horrified halt on the edge of an open field.

  Jerrol surveyed the carnage before them. Too few men in the colours of Greenswatch fought a defensive line hampered by protecting two positions, split by their attackers and weakened accordingly. Their discipline held the attackers at bay, but the sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm them. Broken bodies lay across the field in a deadly trail of death and destruction, bandits and Greenswatch alike.

  Apart from the clash of swords, the fighting was eerily silent, with men focused on their immediate need: to stay alive and protect their lord. Jerrol’s eyes narrowed; how could Lord Hugh be so outnumbered?

  Birlerion nocked an arrow and moved closer, picking his targets. Men fell in swathes, and Jerrol gaped at him. His aim was lethal and efficient, his face cold and intent.

  In no time he ran out of arrows, and he discarded his bow. He charged his horse straight into the melee, and men scattered. He whirled his horse in front of the suddenly howling men and swung his sword.

  Jerrol veered around the battle at the cries of surprise and plunged into the second, smaller clump of men, hacking his way through the barrier of ill-kempt ruffians taking down the well-trained soldiers of Greenswatch.

  His sword flickered as Zin’talia barged men aside. His unexpected arrival galvanised the soldiers into a new attack, renewed belief strengthening their arms. The line flexed as the sickening sound of a hammer hitting flesh preceded a physical groan of despair from Lord Hugh’s men.

  Jerrol spun, but he was too late. Lord Hugh was down. The bandit raised his hammer for another blow and the standard-bearer, screaming in grief, rammed the point of his standard into the man’s throat and wrenched it back out. A rush of scarlet blood spurted all over the Greenswatch banner.

  The bandit twisted in a final continuation of his move as he drove his hammer into the slight young man frozen in horror before him. The young man stumbled back, senseless. As he collapsed onto the churned-up grass, he drove the pole into the soft dirt; the bloodied standard leant at a drunken angle above him.

  Jerrol dragged his eyes from the sight and knelt beside Lord Hugh, checking for a pulse; there wasn’t one. He scanned the battlefield. Birlerion was grounded. He was swinging something around his head, and in quick succession three men dropped, their eyes staring fixedly up at the sky. A fourth staggered and Jerrol ran him through before he could recover. Spinning, he sliced his sword across the stunned man’s stomach, before pausing to survey the scene as the man thudded to the ground.

  He spotted the hub of the soldier’s defence. A young girl lay sprawled among the bodies. Her auburn curls were a vivid contrast to the green uniforms around her.

  Jerrol hurried to her side. It looked like the girl had taken a brutal fall. She was surrounded by fallen soldiers in her Watch colours. He squatted beside her, reached out to check her pulse and then cursed, snatching back his hand as the burn zinged through his blood. She was a direct descendant of the Greenswatch. The black and white Arifel, Lin, popped into view and chittered excitedly.

  He stared at the girl; she looked very young and vulnerable. Could she be hosting the Guardianship? When her father fell, the Lady’s blessing must have gone somewhere. The girl would have been the nearest acceptable vessel, but it was unheard of for a female to take the Watch Guardianship; there would be questions about that later, he was sure.

  If she had, then she was in even more danger. Those trying to eradicate the Lady wouldn’t hesitate to kill her too. Lin landed on the girl and crooned.

  “Hush,” he soothed Lin. “I know, but let’s keep that quiet for now.” Lin meeped in agreement.

  He whistled and Birlerion looked up from retrieving his arrows, though most were shattered. “We need to go. We don’t want to be here when the next wave arrives.”

  “I don’t think these were just bandits, Captain,” Birlerion said. “This was too well-planned. To tak
e down the colours of the Greenswatch?” He shook his head. “Looks like one group took off with the carriage, whilst the rest slaughtered the guard.” He led the way to a mound of bodies. “I believe this was the Lord Captain of Greenswatch, Lord Hugh; there is a concentration of bodies around him. His guard fought to the last – well, those that stayed,” he said, his lips pinched.

  “I think that,” Jerrol jerked his head at the unconscious girl, “is his daughter. We need to leave before she’s next.” He knelt and detached the Greenswatch banner from its staff, folding it over and tucking it in his pocket. He stripped a jacket off one of the guards and covered Lord Hugh’s face. Thinking about the behaviour of bandits, he pulled the Watch ring off Hugh’s finger and stared at it blindly.

  Birlerion took it out of his fingers and inspected it. “I remember the day Leyandrii placed that ring on Warren’s hand,” he said, his face impassive. He gave the ring back and turned away, yanking an arrow out of a body with unnecessary violence. “Captain, we need to leave,” he said.

  Jerrol dropped the ring into his pocket with the banner. Lin meeped mournfully and climbed down into his pocket, carefully arranging the folds of the material.

  Birlerion tensed and then swung around, thrusting the arrow in his hand into the chest of the man rising behind him. Bright red blood gushed over his hand. The man gasped, and Birlerion grabbed him by the neck. “Who ordered this?”

  The man gritted his teeth, and Birlerion twisted the arrow. “I can draw this out or make it quick. Who?”

  “Per’itise.”

  “A Terolian? What is a Terolian doing in Deepwater?”

  The man’s breath hissed out, and his eyes rolled, and Birlerion wrenched his arrow out in disgust, letting the body fall.

  Jerrol cleared his throat. “How did you know he was behind you?”

  Birlerion flexed his shoulders. “Just a feeling.” He looked down at the bandit. “Now why would a Terolian embroil themselves in Vespirian politics? They are usually quite insular.”

  “I have no idea. You’re quite handy to have around. What was that you were using earlier, a sling?”

  Birlerion’s grin flashed across his face, easing his grim expression. “Yeah, surprisingly effective.”

  “So I saw. Was it your weapon of choice before?”

  “A precursor to the bow; you use what works.” He looked around at the carnage. The sun was low in the sky, dipping behind the tree line; dark shadows stole across the field, concealing the crumpled bodies, and he exhaled. “In theory, so others don’t have to.”

  Jerrol gazed across the field. “We can’t save everyone, as much as we’d like to.” He looked back at Birlerion. “We need to go and get Taelia, she is supposed to be in the Chapterhouse. We can’t leave her here.”

  “She won’t be there. She is following the Lady’s bidding.”

  “How do you know?”

  Birlerion smiled. “I met her at the Grove. She was the one who gave me the message for you.”

  “Why didn’t you say?”

  “I didn’t know you knew her.”

  Jerrol huffed in exasperation, and then extended a tendril of thought to Zin’talia. “Find a horse. I need you to go and fetch Torsion. He has rooms in the hostelry in Stoneford. Meet me at Hannah’s house; it’s the last cottage on the road to Stoneford Keep. Discreetly! I don’t think we want to advertise any of this.” With a tired grunt he mounted Zin’talia and, looping the rein in one hand, he gestured at the girl. “Pass her up.”

  Birlerion handed Jerrol the unconscious girl, before stomping off to retrieve his bow and find his horse. Jerrol let Zin’talia wend her way through the corpses and into the dense tree line and then set off for the village of Stoneford, hunching his shoulders against the sound of the carrion crows descending to pick over the dead.

  Stoneford Watch

  Hannah glanced out of the window. The sun had long since set. A fine rain sifted down from the thick grey clouds that rolled in over the horizon, drawing in the night. She ought to close the curtains and bank the fire for the night, she thought, as she watched her cat lifting his head and staring towards the door.

  The cat gave a gentle sneeze and began grooming his tummy, legs contorted in all directions. And then, grooming finished, he stood and arched his back in a stretch, sniffed her water glass and jumped down to the floor with a gentle thud. He sat like a sentinal, tall and proud, tail wrapped neatly around his feet, staring at the door. The dim light from the wood fire flickered over his ginger coat.

  Hannah scowled at her fur-covered pinafore as she prepared to stand: white hair everywhere. She sighed. The cat flicked her a glance and then stared back at the door. Visitors then, and at this time of the night, nothing good.

  With the curtains still wide open she couldn’t exactly pretend not to be in, now could she? She got to her feet stretching her stiffening back; she wasn’t getting any younger. She shuffled out into the kitchen and wrung out a cloth to wipe off some of the hairs.

  The faint jingle of a harness and a muffled curse penetrated the kitchen, and she moved to open the door. The cat led the way; he seemed unconcerned, pausing to block her path on the threshold. A slender man struggled with an awkward burden, and as he reached the light, she saw he was carrying – a child?

  “Hannah,” he called, “I need your help.”

  “Jerrol?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Let me in, and I’ll explain,” he said as he heaved his burden onto the kitchen table and shook out his arms. “The Greenswatch was ambushed on the road by bandits, all slain or abducted. We managed to save her, but she’s unconscious. I don’t think there are any broken bones, as far as I can tell, but she took a bad fall.”

  Hannah checked the girl over and tucked a cushion under her head, making her more comfortable. She hurried to put a kettle on to boil and to stack some towels to warm in front of the fire.

  “I’ll be right back. Just need to move my horse,” Jerrol muttered as he strode back out of the kitchen. He led Zin’talia off to the looming structure slightly darker than the night shadows. The barn was dry and warm. He rubbed her down with an old blanket, though left her saddled. “I’ll try not to be too long. Sorry about the conditions. It’ll be better at Stoneford.” He ran a soothing hand down her neck.

  She rubbed her head against him. “Stop apologising. We may need to move fast,” she replied. He filled the tub with water and left her nibbling on an armful of hay.

  Jerrol returned to the kitchen to find that Hannah had removed the girl’s outer clothing and had wrapped her in blankets. She was bathing the girl’s face with warm water, the cat by her side.

  “There’s nothing broken, though she does have a nasty lump on her head,” Hannah reported, still gently prodding. She gave Jerrol a searching glance. This was the boy she had fostered so many years ago, now a man in his own right, and one she was inordinately proud of. “You do know who this is, don’t you?”

  Jerrol shrugged. “I’m assuming she is a daughter of the Greenswatch. Which is why I thought it better to bring her here than leave her on the field.”

  “Not a daughter, the daughter. Lady Alyssa, daughter of the Lord Captain himself.” Hannah wiped her hands on a towel. “What are you doing with her? What are you even doing here? You’re supposed to be up in Vespers with the King.”

  “I was just passing through, or so I thought. I can’t linger.” Jerrol clasped her arm. “I’m sorry to drop her on you, but she is in danger. She was travelling with her father and a large party back to Greenswatch, but they were ambushed. She was supposed to be killed with the Lord Captain today. I couldn’t leave her there to die as well, yet she can’t go home either until we know what is afoot.”

  Hannah gasped, her face paling in shock. “T-the Lord Captain?”

  Jerrol helped her sit in the chair. He squatted down in front of her, his precious face scrunched up in concern. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that, a bit of a shock I
know. You need to be careful who you let in. I’m not sure who is involved. I need to speak to Jason.” He rubbed his temple. “I’ll be back later, and we can figure out what’s best to do. It may be that you go to the council and let them deal with it. I’m not sure yet whether she would be safe. I sent a man to bring Torsion here. I could use his insight into what is going on.”

  “Torsion isn’t here. He travelled up to Velmouth, oh, must have been three months ago. He was talking about the Veil Watchers and wanting to go on to the towers. The council encouraged him to go,” she said. “He never said when he would be coming back.”

  Jerrol stifled a curse. “I’m missing everyone. Is Lord Jason still at the keep? I’ll try him first, see what he thinks; if not, we’ll have to head up to Velmouth. I can’t stay. I’ll help you bundle her up in front of the fire, warm her up. If she comes around, she may be able to tell you what happened before we came across them.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a heartfelt hug.

  Hannah sniffed and hugged him back hard. She tugged at his stubborn chin. “A sight for sore eyes, that’s what you are.”

  He gave her a brief smile. “I’ll be back soon. I sent a guard called Birlerion off to find Torsion. If he turns up before I’m back, keep him here; otherwise we’ll be delayed even further tracking each other down. Jennery may turn up at some point too.” With a nod of his head, he was gone, out the kitchen door and ghosting into the darkness.

  Hannah gave another sniff. Jennery was involved in this, too? That meant nothing but trouble. Both her foster sons causing havoc; there would be no peace for anyone.