An early taster of the current beginning to Sentinals Origin. Subject to change, not yet edited.

Sentinals Origins is set three thousand years prior to Sentinals Awaken and the Sentinal series. This is the story of how the Sentinals came to be and how they ended up in their Sentinal trees.

Chapter 1- Guerlaire

Slapping his neck, Guerlaire cursed under his breath at the sting of yet another bloodsucking bug as he ducked under the low hanging branch attempting to take off his head. The trailing vines tangled in his hair and he pushed them away as the sailors continued rowing downstream, regardless.

They had taken a wrong tributary when the main river had split into multiple channels and lost valuable time. Worse, magical energy itched under his skin and he needed to return to Leyandrii to alleviate it. He had cut it too fine and now he was paying the price. Unable to keep still, he paced between the rowers, the only stretch of deck unencumbered by coiled ropes, barrels, or sacks of dwindling supplies.

Sudden storms appeared out of nowhere and drenched them in icy sheets of rain. And then the next moment the air steamed with a muggy closeness, attracting those buzzing blood suckers that ate him alive.

Another symptom of the Ascendant chaos unbalancing their world. In the depths of Elothia, he shouldn’t be fending of blood sucking bugs. He should be wrapped up against freezing snow storms.

Exhaling, he strode back along the deck. His fellow ranger, Chryll, raised a black eyebrow as he approached. Chryll was a giant of a man, broad-chested, deep-voiced and highly intelligent. Too intelligent for this jaunt of his into the depths of unexplored Elothia. He suddenly wondered why Chryll had accompanied him. He must be bored out of his mind.

“Need a sparring session?” Chryll inquired, a small smirk on his lips.

“We’d capsize if we tried,” Guerlaire replied, ignoring the concerned expressions of the nearest rowers. They had seen some large predators moving through the waters earlier, and no one wanted to tempt them any closer.

“Then lets pull in and camp for the night. If you don’t work off some of your energy, you’ll explode into flames.”

“I’m not that bad,” Guerlaire growled.

“I beg to differ. Leyandrii will string me up if you don’t return in one piece.”

Snorting, Guerlaire inspected the banks. Thick vegetation screened the view, trees draped in trailing vines arched above them, blocking the dimming light as the day drew to a close. Chryll was right. They needed to set up camp before darkness descended.

“There. Pull in there, men. We’ll camp in that clearing.”

The boat’s captain shouted a command and the rowers leaned more heavily on one side as Guerlaire pointed to a gap in the vegetation, and the rowers pulled their boat to shore.

Guerlaire jumped onto dry land and searched the clearing. It seemed unoccupied by any beast that might eat them. The sloping bank did suggest that it may be a watering spot, so they would have to keep a good watch. They were the interlopers here, not the the local wildlife.

The sailers shipped their oars and turned into lands men as they set up camp. He had been fortunate in his captain and crew this trip. They were skilled and efficient and ignored his odd requests, storing his finds and samples with the care they deserved.

He stared back out across the river. He still couldn’t see how the gods had created this world, and yet knew nothing about it. Leyandrii, the daughter of the All Mother, and the woman, nay goddess, he hoped would one day be his, had stared at him in bemusement when he said as much.

He imagined her exqusite face, green eyes sparkling as she smiled at him and said, “Just because we created it, doesn’t mean we know every inch.” Guerlaire was determined to know every possible thing he could about the world he lived in. Especially as Leyandrii had helped create it.

The sound of a sword being unsheathed brought Guerlaire out of his introspection. Chryll had been serious. He turned and drew his own sword. He hoped Chryll was ready because the power brewing below his skin needed an outlet, and once they started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Chryll didn’t give him a chance to speak, but launched into an attack that had Guerlaire on the defensive. Powerful blows rained down on him, and he concentrated on deflecting the force aside, parrying blows and working into a position where he could attack.

He was lost in the flow of his body, the warming muscles, the sheer exhilaration of not having to hold back, when Chryll barked in his deep voice, “Stand down.”

Guerlaire immediately broke off, his chest heaving with exertion, sweat dripping down his face. He realised his muscles burned and his shirt stuck to his skin but the simmering spark of energy had decreased, burnt off in the brutal sparring session.

In sudden concern, he inspected Chryll. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Chryll laughed as he turned away. “In your dreams. You didn’t come close.”

Guerlaire knew that wasn’t true. In the brief glimpse he had of Chryll there were blood spatters across his slashed shirt. He grabbed Chryll’s arm. “You are hurt!”

Chryll brushed him off. “I’m fine.”

“You should have spoken sooner.”

Chryll laughed again and bent down to pick up his sword belt. He hissed his breath out and Guerlaire was immediately by his side. “Where are you injured?” He helped Chryll sit and tugged his shirt open. Self-recrimination rushed through him as he saw the red marks down Chryll’s side, and the multitude of minor nicks and cuts on his skin. Nothing serious, but taken altogether, Chryll must be in pain, even if he said he wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry,” Guerlaire murmured as he grabbed a canteen, soaked a cloth, and dabbed Chryll’s  torso.

“What for? It was a good work out. I should move faster.”

“I didn’t even realise I had hit you.”

Chryll gripped his shoulder. “Stop it, Guerlaire. You did nothing wrong. I attacked you.”  He shifted awkwardly and sighed. “It was a good workout. Hopefully you won’t need another for a few days.”

 “Chryll…”

“I mean it.” Chryll glared at him.  “Go get me something to eat. I’m starving.”

Guerlaire rose, exhaustion taking the edge off his simmering intensity. His constant need to burn off energy was eased by Chryll’s sacrifice. He needed to find another way to control this power that bubbled under his skin.

Offering the sailor stirring the soup a brief smile of thanks, Guerlaire took the bowls and bread back to where Chryll leaned against a tree trunk, his eyes closed. “Here,” he said softly, offering the soup and a spoon.

Chryll opened his eyes and grinned. Taking the bowl he said, “You need to show me that reverse manouvre. Where did you pick that up from?”

Guerlaire frowned as he stirred the steaming liquid, trying to remember the moves he had made. It must have been related to Apeiron, the discipline of the air, where mind and body melded into one. “I’m not sure. I think it was a variation of the Apeiron move in Acknowldegement.”

Chryll drank his soup, a crease forming between his brows as he thought. “Maybe.” He dunked his bread in the soup to soften it. After the weeks they had been travelling, they were only left with hard biscuits and solid rolls. Chryll lifted the roll out of the liquid and stared at it for a moment, before dunking it back into the soup. “I can’t wait to taste fresh bread again,” he muttered.

“Once we reach the main channel, we’ll only be a few days away from the coast. It won’t take long to return to Vespiri after that.”

Nodding, Chryll ate his bread. “I imagine Leyandrii will be waiting for you.”

Guerlaire grimaced. “She warned me about staying away for too long. Getting lost hadn’t been in the plan.”

“At least you have enough research to keep you in Vespers for the rest of the year.”

“True.”

They were interrupted by a small fluffy tri-coloured creature, with scaly wings and tail, who appeared in front of Guerlaire. She chittered loudly, scolding him.

Guelaire laughed and held out his hand so the little Arifel could land. Tufts of brown, black and white fur stuck up in all directions and once she flipped her wings back, she began to groom herself. “Ren! How did you find us?”

Ren rubbed her cheek against his hand and images of Leyandrii filled his head; worried green eyes, hands on hips, head tilted in question.

“I know we’re late. Tell her we’re fine and on our way home. A couple of days, at most.”

Ren tilted her head in a mimcry of Leyandrii and Chryll snorted.

Guerlaire scowled at him. “We’ll be home soon, I promise.”

Ren chittered and disappeared.

Chryll grinned slyly. “So when are you going to propose to her?” Guerlaire choked on the mouthful of soup he had just swallowed, and Chryll patiently waited for him to stop coughing. “Well?”

“I’m a nobody. She’s a goddess.”

“You are the most senior Captain in the Lady’s Rangers, and she sends an Arifel to check up on you. It’s obvious she loves you.”

“I have no family line; no lineage to offer.”

“So? Has she asked you for one?”

“No, but her family will.”

“I think Leyandrii can make up her own mind. After all, she is the goddess they left behind to run this place. If she is capable of that, managing you should be simple.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome.” Chryll waved an airy hand. “I live but to serve.”

Guerlaire snorted, though he wasn’t deceived. Chryll was trying to distract him from the lines of pain creasing his face. They had run out of medicinal supplies days ago, that was why they had headed for home, and now he had caused his friend pain, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He rummaged in one of the bags a sailor had brought over, and using his knife, began tearing one of his spare shirts into strips. “Let’s bind your ribs to give you some support,” he said once he had a pile. And ignoring Chryll’s protests, forced him to remove his shirt and proceeded to strap him up. The red marks on Chryll’s skin were turning a deep purple. “Once we are home, I’ll teach you how to defend against a reversal,” he promised, guilt blunting the egde of his restlessness even more.

Chapter 2 – Leyandrii

Leyandrii observed the small room which was filled with rows of tiered seating rising halfway up the walls. The burnished wood gleamed, polished to a shine, and the aroma of beeswax hung in the air. Above the seating, four golden onoffs floated in the air, emitting a dim glow that only increased the depth of shadows, almost depleted.  They needed recharging.

The tiers were slowly filling up with the men of the administration. The men who managed her world on a day to day to basis and managed to irritate her more often than not. Why did they have to be so difficult?

Her instructions had been simple. Keep the peace and ensure the people were free to live their lives. How difficult was that? Why was it that as soon as these men put on their green robes, all their common sense dribbled out the bottom of their boots?

Leyandrii slowed her breathing and calmed her nerves. Her bottom was already protesting about the hard cushion she sat on, but that had been deliberate. She didn’t want to get comfortable, she needed to pay close attention to the proceedings today.

Someone was scheming, and the balance of power was shifting. She had her suspicions, but today would be her proof. Once she was certain, the next problem would be what to do. She had tried to distance herself from the Administration, allow the ministers to rule as they saw fit, but she wouldn’t let them exploit her people.

Her voice was the voice of reason. She was saddened that she had to interfere. That these ministers were so easily corrupted.

Her lips twitched as the minsters began low conversations as soon as they saw her seated in the place of honour. Many uncertain glances flicked in her direction, and Leyandrii noted who huddled with who. Important information she was collecting for free.

The noise level rose as more ministers arrived. There were more than she remembered. They had been propagating. She wasn’t sure if that was good thing or not. The meeting room wouldn’t hold many more, and it would be cramped and uncomfortable.

The only person who approached her was Oren Asher, the Commander of her Rangers. Straight-backed and lean, hair greying at the sides, Asher strode down the centre aisle and up the steps to where she was seated. He wore his uniform instead of robes, a deep blue that suited his bronzed complexion.

“Lady Leyandrii! It’s so good to see you!”

Leyandrii smiled and offered her hand.

Asher bent over it, his lips warm on her skin. He peered up at her from under his black lashes. “Any news on when my captains will return?”

Leyandrii chuckled. “Soon. They got lost.”

Asher rose with a laugh. “I see my rangers need some map reading lessons.”

“I’d agree, but I fear the maps would not be of much assistance these days,” Leyandrii replied, staring out across the chamber. “Too many people are trying to flex their muscles.”

“Do you know who?”

“I have my suspicions.”

“As do I. It has been subtle, but there is one faction gaining the more influential seats. And they are quick to bring in their friends.”

Leyandrii pursed her lips. “I had so hoped that they would work with our world, and not against it.”

“Power has a way of changing people,” Asher said as he gazed out over the chamber and then back at Leyandrii. “The more they have the more they want.”

“It seems we are the centre of attention.”

“Where ever you are, you will always be worthy of all our attention,” Asher said with a grin.

Leyandrii laughed, and as the room quietened, she rose. Her gaze swept the room, and she was disappointed to see only men. There were still no women in the Administration. She wondered why. Something else to investigate.

“Gentlemen. I see the Administration grows. I welcome the new minsters to your positions of responsibility. You may influence the direction of discussion, but you have a responsibility to my people. A responsibility to ensure that the world they live in gives them the freedom of choice. To live their lives how they desire, in safety and with opportunity. Your job is to create and maintain that environment. I look forward to hearing your proposals.”

She swept her hand through the air, and the golden globes suspended above the chamber, glowed brighter, illuminating each of the ministers seated in the tiers.

“Please introduce yourselves so that I may know you.”

Leyandrii sat down and waited as the ministers organised themselves. She tensed as a faint voice teased the back of her mind, and she threw her awareness out in the city, frantically searching as she acknowledged the new ministers.

She had heard the voice before, demanding her attention, but it was so faint, she had never been able to pin point it, but today, it was near the site where her temple was being built, and she wished she could just leave this shambles of an assembly and find him. It was a male, young, very determined, and drawn to her temple as she had planned.

She had to find him before it was too late.

But for now, she would know her foes. The men planning her downfall would soon find out she was more than a match for them. They might only see a young woman. More fool them.

Leyandrii gritted her teeth, smiled serenely, and observed proceedings.

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