The Seven Signs: Three Book Collection

by D. W. Hawkins

“That's...unfortunate,” commented Dormael, taking a pull from his tankard. “Of course, now we're worried about making the trip. We've heard some nasty rumors.”

  “Rumors?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “People in the city are saying the Galanians are coming. That they're already in the city, and there's an army on the way,” D'Jenn said.

  “Oh, is that what they're saying?” she asked.

  “We saw a man on the street who said they roughed him up a little. He said it happened here,” Dormael added. “We just don't want to run into any trouble on the road, you understand. Can you tell us what happened?” He slid another silver mark across the bar to the girl, who narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it up. She looked around and deposited the coin in her shirt, then leaned closer to the two of them.

  “They did come in here last night,” she said. “They were big men, wearing chainmail and carrying swords, both of them. They said that they were looking for someone—a redheaded girl carrying two swords. They said she was some kind of criminal from the Empire, and that she might have come here to find a ship.”

  “How many?” D'Jenn asked.

  “Just two of them. It weren't no army, I'll tell you that. They had the City Watch with them, too, and a fancy proclamation from the duke.”

  “Does this sort of thing happen often?” Dormael asked.

  “I don't know, do I look like some pretty noble girl to you?” she snorted. “They asked their questions and moved on. Beat up one of my patrons, but Berrens has always been a loud-mouthed bastard. We've roughed him up before, too. Like I said—they were looking for some girl, some criminal. It weren't no army, so I wouldn't worry much about your trip.”

  “Thanks,” Dormael said. “We were never here, alright?” He slid another mark across the bar to the girl, and she snatched it up.

  “Whatever you say, Sevenlander,” she smiled. The cousins finished their drinks and left the Fish Head. Stepping out into the street, D’Jenn led Dormael into a side alley away from the docks. They trudged up the small alley until it crossed another street, and then looked around to make sure no one was listening. Satisfied that they were alone, the two began to talk.

  “So, Galanians, then. But why are they chasing her?” D'Jenn asked.

  “I don’t know, but the idea that she is some thief or criminal is ludicrous. She’s no more a criminal than I am. Well…less than I am, anyway,” Dormael replied. D’Jenn smiled at his quip.

  “None of this makes sense, coz. That drunk told us that these guys were some kind of elite soldier. He was right about their surcoats, too. Only knights or nobles wear standards, so why would elite Imperials be chasing a criminal into another sovereign nation? You'd think they'd leave that to a bounty hunter, or hire a tracker. You wouldn't send a unit of soldiers out to chase one girl. What are they doing here?”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out, D’Jenn. The barmaid said that if anyone saw anything, they needed to go up to the castle. They must be staying there, in the Lord’s March—probably ‘honored guests’ or some such nonsense. We have to get in there,” said Dormael.

  “Oh, and what are supposed to do, coz? Walk right up and ask to be let in? Tell them we want a chat with the Galanians?” D'Jenn smirked.

  “My dear cousin,” Dormael smiled. “We sneak in, of course. It shouldn’t be hard for someone with our particular talents. You’ve done it before—in Thardin, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes, well that was for an assignment. And it wasn't easy, either.”

  “This is just as important, coz. It might as well be an assignment. Risk comes with the job, remember? That’s what they told us when we decided to do field work. What is it that Victus always says?” Dormael asked.

  Victus was the Deacon of their particular order amongst the Conclave of Wizards. Dormael had always thought the man would have belonged in the front lines of an infantry unit if he hadn't been Blessed. He had trained both Dormael and D'Jenn.

  “Hike up your skirts and get the job done,” D'Jenn sighed, giving Dormael a flat look. “Fine. But we have to wait until nightfall. What are you going to tell Alton?”

  Dormael sighed at this, wondering himself what he would say. He didn’t know how Alton would react to their plan, but keeping that sort of secret from him could come back to bite them in the arse. If Dormael and D'Jenn suddenly came upon knowledge that couldn't be explained, it would raise many questions from Alton. He had placed his trust in them, and extended his hospitality, and Dormael was already beginning to chafe at the lies he was having to tell the man. Besides, he deserved to know what had happened to Shawna. She was his blood, after all.

  “The truth, for once. The truth about everything,” Dormael said.

  “Everything?”

  “Everything,” Dormael nodded. D’Jenn raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, but in the end, he nodded his agreement.

  “We should get back, then,” Dormael sighed. The two men turned and began the long, uphill walk back to the Merchant’s District. Over the whole trek, the Lord’s March and Ferolan Castle loomed above them, and Dormael couldn’t help staring at it. He felt a strange resignation settle into his guts as he gazed at the thing, and couldn't help feeling that the decision to infiltrate it was a significant one. If they broke into the castle, then they were in this thing until the end. They could no longer just walk away if the opportunity presented itself, especially if they left any evidence that would lead the authorities to Alton, or to whatever other family members Shawna might have left.

  What a horrible gods-damned vacation so far, he thought.

  ***

  “Galanians?” Alton asked, a skeptical look on his face. “What would the Galanians want with Shawna? She’s never even been inside their borders—at least, not that I know of. She's certainly no gods-damned criminal.”

  Dormael finished a long sip of his ale and lit a pipe, staring into Alton's fireplace.

  “They know who she is,” he sighed.

  “Say again?” Alton asked.

  “They had her description,” D'Jenn explained. “They've been passing it around the city. Whoever is after her, it's for a specific reason. I doubt that this was just a random act of violence.”

  “I have to agree,” Dormael said, looking to his cousin. “And the worst part is that it's obviously someone who can operate in an official capacity for the Empire. They've got troops, and enough clout to secure the help of your duke—Eric, or whatever his name is.”

  “Money,” D'Jenn snorted. “That's usually all it takes with the nobility. Promises of this or that frilly something-or-other, and money—lots of it.”

  “I'm writing to the king,” Alton grated, his expression darkening. “They can't come into Cambrell and apprehend one of her noble daughters. This is illegal, no matter what favors that sycophantic shit Eric has received.”

  “Ten marks to one that any pigeons leaving the city are being shot down, and all messengers are being screened at the gates. If this Galanian commander is smart, he doesn't want any word of what happens here leaving the city. Once they find out you're related to her...well, it's only a matter of time. We're alone here, Alton,” Dormael said.

  Alton sighed and looked away, nodding as Dormael's words sank in.

  “Of course. I shouldn't have waited to send the message I'd planned on writing. It appears that my inaction has cost us dearly,” Alton said, his expression darkening further.

  “We didn't know it would be a lost opportunity,” Dormael said. “In any case, it's a good thing that I kept her presence a secret, eh?”

  “Do you know how many Galanians are in the city?” Alton asked.

  “No,” Dormael replied, “but it can't be too many.”

  “The city would go mad,” Alton nodded.

  “Enough to attack a country estate, though, and kill everyone inside,” D'Jenn said. Dormael turned a flat stare on his cousin, and Alton regarded him with a pained expression. D’Jenn shrugged. “Sorr
y, but you must have realized it yourself. I'm only saying it aloud.”

  “Way to bring him down easy,” Dormael muttered. Everyone ignored him.

  “We can't keep her here for much longer,” Alton sighed, turning from D'Jenn. “If they come looking for her...well, my walls weren't build for a siege, gentlemen. I doubt my ability to keep her safe from Imperial soldiers.”

  “We need to know more—to find out how much they know,” D'Jenn said.

  “Agreed,” Alton nodded.

  “Well, we're glad you feel that way, Alton. We've come up with a plan,” Dormael sighed.

  “Oh? Fill me in.”

  “Tonight D'Jenn and I are going to sneak into Ferolan Castle and find out.”

  Alton let out a short laugh, but paused as he saw that Dormael was serious. He looked between the two Sevenlanders, confusion plain in his expression. Alton laughed again, and Dormael could see him struggling to rationalize what he’d just heard.

  “You're...going to sneak in,” Alton said flatly.

  “Aye.”

  “Sneak into the castle?”

  “Correct.”

  “You mean Ferolan Castle, the one here in the city?”

  “Obviously.”

  Alton let out a long, tortured sigh.

  “Dormael...you do understand that there are armed guards inside.”

  “Well I'm not dense, Alton.”

  “I thought you weren't, but you're making a powerful argument otherwise,” Alton said. “Dormael, first off, how in the Six Hells do you plan on getting inside? It's not as if you can just pick the lock to the backdoor and tip-toe through the bloody kitchens.”

  “True,” Dormael smirked.

  “And if you're caught, it won't take but a few hot pincers and some flaying knives to send the Galanians right here to my door,” Alton said.

  “What? You think I would give you up?” Dormael scoffed, feeling a bit of anger rise in his stomach. Such a statement came close to an insult in Sevenlander culture, but Dormael decided to let it go. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that Alton didn't know their customs.

  “That's not what I meant,” Alton grumbled. “But you must see that what you're proposing is nonsense.”

  “There's a bit more that we're not telling you,” Dormael sighed. He had been dreading this moment, but he knew he was up against it now. He had to tell Alton the truth, or none of this would make sense to the man. Taking a deep breath, he went on. “Something I should have told you before.”

  “Before?” Alton asked, picking up on Dormael's discomfort. “So you've lied to me?”

  “Not lied, exactly, only kept a few things out—not about Shawna, or what happened to her,” Dormael quickly clarified, “but about me. About us,” he said, gesturing to D'Jenn.

  Alton looked sideways between the two of them.

  “What?”

  “We have certain…talents…at our command, Alton,” D’Jenn explained. “Getting into the castle will be difficult, but we are well equipped to deal with it.”

  “Talents?” Alton laughed. “What—are you going to play your guitar and woo the guards to sleep? Recite a poem and turn their hearts to your cause? Whistle a tune and ride the breeze through a window?”

  “Not a bad idea,” D'Jenn murmured, but Dormael didn't think Alton heard.

  Before Alton could stop laughing, Dormael held out his hand to the man, palm facing upward. Alton gave Dormael a confused look, but Dormael had already summoned his Kai and focused it into the space above his palm. The world sang to him as he brought forth his magic.

  A tiny thumping noise sounded, and fire suddenly blossomed in the air over Dormael's hand. Alton started back in surprise, and Dormael could see the flames reflected in the man's wide, horrified eyes. Dormael let the fire whirl and undulate for a moment—mostly for dramatic effect—and then focused the fire down into a pea-sized granule of intense light.

  It flew in a straight line to D'Jenn, who caught the mote of energy and held it above his own palm. The mote undulated once again and took the form of a bird perching in midair. It took off from D'Jenn's hand and flew around the room, flickers of weightless flame wafting from its wingtips, before disappearing into the fireplace with another low thump.

  Alton was speechless, staring at the two of them in surprised horror.

  “That’s an exercise we used to do in Ishamael. It’s called ‘The Phoenix Takes Flight’. It’s used to heighten magical control over chaotic energy. It’s quite difficult really, but we’ve been doing this for a long time now,” Dormael spoke into the stunned silence.

  “What Dormael is trying to say, Alton,” D’Jenn went on, “is that—”

  “You're Wizards of the Conclave,” Alton finished for him.

  Dormael and D'Jenn stood quietly, waiting for Alton to speak. He shook his head and opened his mouth a few times, only to fall silent again. Dormael gave him a moment. Such a realization didn't always go down well, and Alton had doubtlessly been told lich tales as a child about evil sorcerers and the like.

  Finally, he cleared his throat.

  “You know,” he began, “I always knew there was something strange about you, Dormael—the knives everywhere, the vague explanations, your conspiratorial turn of mind. I didn’t suspect this, of course, but I wondered over and over again how you got word to D’Jenn that you were staying with me. He knew a lot about what had happened before he stepped foot into this house. I guess that was…,” Alton wiggled his fingers at him, unable to say the word.

  “Magic,” Dormael interjected for him.

  “Yes. Magic,” Alton said in an apologetic tone. “That’s just unbelievable. I’ve never met a…wizard…before.”

  “Now you have two in your study,” Dormael shrugged.

  “Indeed,” Alton said, shaking his head.

  “I didn't lie about who I was as a person, though. Just what I can do,” Dormael said. “I still want to help, and so does D'Jenn.” D'Jenn nodded in agreement.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Alton asked, still looking dumbfounded.

  “Well, it’s not exactly the sort of thing you tell everyone you meet. I had to be sure that you could handle it, and that you weren’t the usual sort of Alderakian who thinks that wizards are the next thing to Saarnok,” Dormael said, making a sign to ward off evil. “But now that the Galanians are here, the situation has become a bit more dangerous. You needed to know the truth.”

  “Then why are you really here, Dormael? How is it you just happened to pass by Shawna when she was in trouble? Is that another lie?” Alton asked.

  “It’s partly the truth,” Dormael sighed, nodding. “The whole truth is that I was led to her…drawn to her magically in a way that I can’t fully explain to myself right now, let alone to you. For some reason, the girl just causes my magic to go crazy, and I don’t yet know why. The same thing happens to D’Jenn.”

  “It's true,” D'Jenn nodded.

  “She...causes your magic to go crazy? That sounds fairly ominous,” Alton said.

  “We think she might be carrying something with her that's infused—magical, I mean. Maybe that's why these Galanians are after her. I know it might sound hard to believe, but—”

  “No,” Alton interjected, “it actually could explain a few things, now that I think about it. I don't know where Shawna could have found something magical, though—except for her swords. Do you think that might be the reason?”

  “We've looked at the swords,” D'Jenn said. “They're not the source.”

  “You could've searched the thing out and left her to die on the road,” Alton muttered as his eyes went back to Dormael, “but you didn't. I'm guessing you haven't searched her bags, either, or you'd have told me what it was that's causing this.”

  “True enough,” Dormael nodded.

  Alton regarded him silently for a moment, and Dormael could see the warring emotions on his face. He felt more than a little ashamed at coming out with the lies he'd told, but only because he had com
e to like Alton in the time he'd been in his house. Taking a deep breath, Dormael ventured another word.

  “If it means anything, I've come to see you as a friend, Alton. I'm telling you this now because I have respect for you. I didn't lie about wanting to help, either. As you said—I could have left at any time. I'm still here.”

  “I...I guess I can see why you would have kept your secret,” Alton sighed. “There aren't many places in Alderak that would welcome a sorcerer—”

  “Wizard,” D'Jenn corrected in a gentle tone. “Sorcerer is an insult.”

  “It is?” Alton asked.

  “He didn't know, D'Jenn,” Dormael sighed.

  “Now he does,” D'Jenn smiled. “Go on, Lord Dersham.”

  Alton gave D'Jenn a dangerous look, but softened it with a smile.

  “You know damn well I don't like that. Point taken.”

  D'Jenn only winked in reply.

  “As I was saying,” Alton went on, “I can see why you didn't tell me at first. I don't appreciate lying, Dormael, but...I've come to see you as a friend, as well. I think you're an honorable man.”

  Alton rose from his chair at this, and offered Dormael his hand. Dormael took it, and Alton gave him a nod. D’Jenn got a handshake as well, and then Alton walked slowly to the window and gazed out into the midday sunlight.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you a favor of you, Dormael,” Alton began, and D’Jenn gave his cousin a knowing smile.

  “To smuggle Shawna out of Ferolan?” Dormael sighed.

  “I know it's a lot to ask, but as you said, you're well equipped to deal with this sort of thing. If you can get her to the king in Arla, he will see justice done,” Alton said, still staring out the window.

  “I had a feeling that you would ask that,” Dormael said, keeping his eyes on D'Jenn. “But I think we need to go farther than that.”

  “Farther?” Alton asked, turning from the window.

  “She's carrying something magical, something that's probably dangerous,” D'Jenn said, walking up to Alton. “If it's this infused item the Empire is after, chances are they won't let the city of Arla and the favor of the king stop them. They're obviously not above using subterfuge, and something tells me that Arla won't be far enough.”