Velmouth perched in the foothills of the Stanton Peaks, a curling spine of snow-tipped mountains that curved around the town and split off to the north into Elothia. The air was crisp and clean and so clear that the vibrant blue sky and the surrounding pine trees popped. The resinous scent of pine permeated the air.
The conical roofs of the grey stone Watch Towers peeped above the ranks of deep green pine trees, wreathed in mist. The Watch Towers were at least another day’s ride from Velmouth.
Tagerill took a deep breath. “The Watch Towers seem to be untouched, though I do not remember a town here,” he said, gazing about him.
“We have grown. Remargaren is more highly populated now, and new towns are springing up everywhere. Keeps the scholars busy updating the maps.”
“There are maps of all Remargaren?” Tagerill’s voice rose in surprise. “Guerlaire spent much of his time exploring new lands.”
“Oh yes, from the icy wastes of Elothia to the Island archipelago of Birtoli.”
“Islands?” Tagerillion twisted in his saddle. “Is Birtoli no longer connected to the mainland?” He looked around as if he would be able to see it.
Jerrol grinned. “I’ll take you down to the coast at Mortelin, you can see the main islands of Aguinti and Molinti from there.”
Tagerill sank back in shock. “Islands?” he muttered to himself.
They approached the outskirts of Velmouth as wooden houses with small picket-fenced gardens lined the road. The town sprawled at the foot of the mountains and tracks led off in all directions, lined with houses. The main road opened into a central square with empty stalls lining the edges. A small temple stood proudly to the north of the square, its white dome gleaming in the bright sunshine. They rode past busy cafes and taverns towards the hostelry and the adjoining inn.
“Birlerion, go and get the rooms. Tagerill and I will see to the horses. Let’s get settled. Then we’ll split up and search for Torsion.”
Birlerion dismounted, tugged his saddlebags off and walked up the steps into the inn. Jerrol and Tagerill continued into the barn next door. The fresh smell of sawdust and straw blended with the aroma of leatherwork and the musty odour of horses. A small, wizened man came out of the tack room as he heard their voices.
The man gave a sharp whistle, and a young lad scampered in to take one of the horses. “Them over there are empty, pay at the inn with your rooms.” Jerrol followed the lad as directed and suddenly turned back. “We’re hoping to meet a friend here, Scholar Torsion, do you know him?” The man stared at him and then he shook his head before shuffling back into the tack room, uninterested.
“Where do you think Scholar Torsion will be?” Tagerill asked as he led his horse into a stall.
Jerrol considered Tagerill’s question as he followed with Zin’talia. “Well, he is a sometime councillor up here, so I suggest we start at the council building. If not we can check at the temple and the local taverns, though he may be up at the Watch Towers. He has always been fascinated by the Watchers. He will be so excited to meet you. Be warned, he will interrogate you until he knows everything you know.”
Tagerill gave a small chuckle. “I’m not sure I’ll be much help there. The Lady set the Watchers their task. We merely guarded them.”
Jerrol unstrapped Zin’talia’s saddle and pulled it off. He slung it over the bar and leaned against the railing. “It concerns me how much was lost. Over time the legends evolved in the telling, the messages lost or diluted. When the Lady did whatever she did in the end, the destruction must have been total. She used all the magic left in the world and took the knowledge of it with her.” Jerrol watched Tagerill. “We know so little, and nothing about Sentinals.”
Tagerill finished unsaddling his horse and turned back to Jerrol. “The Lady created us about two years before she sundered the Bloodstone – not that we realised that was going to be her intent. We were scattered across Remaragen, trying to block the Ascendants’ plans and protect the people.” Tagerill began to brush the worst of the dust off his horse. “The Ascendants grew out of the Administration; they got used to the taste of power. They were not satisfied with ruling on behalf of the Lady, they wanted it for themselves. That was why the Lady created the Watches. She devolved some of that power into the people themselves.
“The land provided for the people, the people worshipped the Lady, the Lady blessed the Guardians, and the Guardians protected all. I suppose it is to be expected that the regions devolved as they have; it would take much to replace the Lady.” He grimaced. “The Ascendants were furious, so it doesn’t surprise me their descendants are targeting the Watches today, trying to complete what the Ascendants failed to.”
“And they genuinely used magic?”
“They liked to think so. The Ascendants became so focused on the belief that they were special, the pure bloodline that was born to rule, that they forgot that the Lady and her family created Remargaren. They had real power.
“The Ascendants discovered some of the latent power of the land and those clever enough harnessed it, through their minds or through other devices they created. But they couldn’t control it properly, and they caused more damage than good. We spent all our time fixing the damage.”
“So you have power as well?”
Tagerill chuckled. “The Lady has the power, and her sister Marguerite. They work through us. We are her tools. We do her bidding. We exist to protect the Lady and her people.”
“These Ascendants have found a way to control people. They are controlling the councils, and they are turning on
