“What does dad think of that?” Dormael asked.
“You know him. He just grumbles about it, sits around playing his guitar and drinking copious amounts of the firewine and the ale and tries to act like he hates the animals. But when he thinks no one’s looking, he’ll have a cat in his lap or a dog at his feet, scratching away at their ears,” Allen laughed, shaking his head, “Dad’s a big soft hearted lump behind all that grouchiness and disapproval. Mostly these days he just talks about the Kansil and the Tal-Kansil, and how much he hates them, and how they’re pulling the wool over all of our eyes and leaving the populace behind. He says a lot of ‘back when I was a spearman…’ and ‘things were better when…’ and ‘in my day things were hard.’ You know how it is, he walked uphill both ways and all of that nonsense.”
“Good old pop,” Dormael shook his head, smiling.
“So, when were you going to tell your brother that you were a father?” Allen shot at him accusingly, punching Dormael in the arm.
“What?” Dormael exclaimed.
“A father?” Shawna echoed, turning an accusatory eye on Dormael.
“I’m not! Oh – you mean Bethany?” Dormael laughed, patting the little girl on the head and picking her up, “Bethany’s not my daughter, Allen. She’s just…”
Bethany looked at him, big eyes expectant. They were deep green today, like the evergreens they had ridden past earlier.
“She’s…well, she’s…” Bethany’s eyes looked at him, waiting.
Just like that, Dormael made his decision about the little girl.
“She’s my daughter.”
Tiny arms went around Dormael’s neck and Bethany hugged him as tight as she could. D’Jenn just smiled at Dormael knowingly and nodded. Shawna made a little crooning sound, so common with women, and came close to place her hand lightly on Dormael’s shoulder. She wiped a tear from her cheek and brushed a strand of Bethany’s hair back from her forehead, letting a sound somewhere between a laugh and sob escape from her smiling mouth. Dormael cleared his throat around the sudden rush of emotion he felt and tried to laugh it all off.
“Come on now, guys,” he sniffed, “You can stop all that now.”
“Oh, just shut up Dormael,” Shawna uttered, and gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. Bethany gave him another on the opposite cheek, and Dormael felt a little sheepish but more than anything he felt…better. He was glad that he had made the decision, and realized at the same time that he had probably made it a long time ago, and just didn’t know it. D’Jenn’s smirk said that he had known since the beginning, and all that talk about it had just been to coax it from him.
“What in the Six Hells is going on here?” Allen asked, smiling, “First she’s not your daughter, then she is…”
“I think you just witnessed Bethany’s adoption, coz,” D’Jenn said, clapping Allen on the shoulder. “You, my friend, are an uncle now.”
“Well, then,” Allen said, clapping his hands together, “I see. I think. In any case, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it back at the house. Dad’s already broken into the ale, I’m sure, and Mom is making dinner. She’s going to go crazy over that pretty little girl you have there, Dormael.”
“I think just about everyone will,” Dormael agreed, setting Bethany back on the ground. She was smiling widely, showing little white teeth, and her eyes were a little red from happy sobs. “She’s a special kind of girl, that’s for sure.”
“Well then, let’s mount up and ride on to the homestead,” D’Jenn spoke, “We’ve an extra horse back there for you, Allen.”
“Sounds good,” Allen agreed, crouching until he was eye level with Bethany, “Would you like to ride back with your new uncle? I’ll point out all the best places to play.”
“Are there lots of places?” Bethany asked, stepping forward shyly.
“More than you can count, sweetheart. I played all over this vineyard when your father and I were your age. There’s lots to see.” Allen’s tone was enticing, and he held his hand out to the little girl, a big friendly smile on his honest face. Bethany gave a shy, excited glance to Dormael, as if she were asking permission. Dormael smiled broadly and nodded, giving her a little pat on the head.
“Okay,” Bethany agreed, holding out her arms to Allen.
“Good,” Allen smiled, hoisting the little girl up and planting her on his shoulders, “First, I’ll have to show you the absolute best climbing tree anywhere in Soirus-Gamerit. It’s got branches big enough to sit on almost all the way at the top, and it’s always full of bird nests. Then, I’ll show you…” His voice faded into the distance as he walked towards the train of remounts, Bethany riding easily on his shoulders.
“It’s settled then,” D’Jenn announced, clapping Dormael on the shoulder, “You’re a father, coz. Congratulations.”
“You knew what I was going to say the whole time,” Dormael accused him, a wide smile on his face.
“Of course I did. You’re the only one who didn’t know.” With that, D’Jenn winked and turned to mount Mist. Dormael was left standing there with Shawna, and for some reason he felt a little uncomfortable. There was something coming from the girl, some emotion rolling off of her. Dormael looked at her. Her eyes were misty, still on the verge of spilling tears, her hair was bright red and golden with the light of the sun reflecting off of it. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she were about to say something. She took a deep breath, and Dormael couldn’t help but notice her breasts heaving underneath her shirt.
Gods be damned, she was good looking.
“Dormael,” she began, shaking her head and grinning at him strangely, “You really are a good person, you know that?”
“Come on,” Dormael scoffed, waving the comment away and making to turn towards Horse.
“No, really,” Shawna grabbed his arm, and her touch stopped him cold, “I think that may have been the happiest moment in that little girl’s life, and you did it for her. She loves you, you know.”
Dormael took a deep breath and sighed, still a little uncomfortable with all this emotion flying around. “I know. I love her too.”
Shawna sighed herself, and then suddenly wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Dormael was a little surprised, and only got his own arms around Shawna before she was pulling away. She hesitated for just a second, looking him in the eyes, then dropped her gaze and stepped away. Her cheeks turned a rosy color and she moved quickly towards Charlotte.
He couldn’t help but feel a little excitement, a little satisfaction, and a little disappointment that she had only spent a short second pressed against him. Her body was firm muscle with a layer of softness over it that evoked thoughts of his hands moving over her, squeezing her, touching her in places a little too familiar for friendship. His heart was beating in a familiar rhythm that only tuned up when he was fighting, or laying in bed with a naked woman. He wondered what Shawna looked like naked.
“Come on Dormael, you’re holding us all up,” Allen said as he passed by on one of the remounts, Bethany waving from the front of the saddle.
“Ah – right.” He said, turning to climb onto Horse.
****
Maarkov stood against the railing of the King’s Blessing gazing dejectedly down at the roiling wake of the ship. Sailors went about their business around him, quietly tying lines and other such things, eyes locked to the deck as much as they could manage. They tried very hard not to make any noise other than was necessary. They didn’t want to catch Maaz’s murderous attention. Maarkov couldn’t blame them for that.
A breeze whipped from the fore of the craft, bringing with it the charnel house reek of blood and fresh death. Maarkov spat as some of the smell seemed to enter his nose and invade his mouth, and was almost surprised not to see the color of blood in his saliva. The smell was that strong.
Maarkov turned back towards the mainmast, making his way down the steps to the main deck. He glanced up in morbid curiosity at what none of the crewmen would look at, at what ev
eryone on board was trying very hard to ignore. Maarkov, however, felt no such disgust at the sight. It gave him no pleasure, certainly, but he had seen deaths to fill a hundred thousand graves. Corpses were only scenery to him.
The flayed cadaver of the old captain hung limply from atop the mainmast, swaying in the wind and bouncing from the sail, leaving odd prints of thick, drying blood and ichor upon its once – white surface.
Maaz had hoisted him up four nights ago, screaming and begging for his life. He had used the man for some dark ritual, some forsaken working of his abominable magic. Maaz had worked like a master, slowly cutting and pulling the skin from the captain’s body, and the man had passed out from the pain long before he died. Symbols were drawn around the mast on the deck of the ship, twisted curving runes and sharply pointed words in a language that Maarkov didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Maaz had cut the skin into square, orderly patches, chanting in the damnable language the entire time, and nailed them to the mast and the deck so that he could cut even more symbols into them. Upon one such patch of skin Maarkov could see a nipple. He almost chuckled at the sight, and wondered why he found it so ridiculous. No one else was laughing.
It was that night that the ship had lurched forward with a great creaking of wood and rope, and had begun to move forward under some strange power that no one wanted to talk about. Maarkov had looked askance at his brother, but all he got in response was a mocking smile. He had wanted to part that smile with a sword, but as always he held back.
He entered the captain’s quarters and found his brother lounging in the chair behind the desk, pouring over a map of the Sevenlands.
“So nice to see you, brother mine,” rasped Maaz in his mocking tone, “I do so enjoy our little chats.”
“When will we hit land?” Maarkov inquired, pushing down the contempt and rage he felt for his sibling.
“Maybe a week, maybe longer, but sooner still than that pitiful sailor would have put us there by more…conventional means.”
“And where, brother, do you think we should make landfall, eh? It’s going to be hard explaining that dead body to any customs officials we meet in any harbor, don’t you think?” Maarkov sighed, plopping into the chair opposite and propping his boots up in Maaz’s face, right on top of the map. Maaz peered balefully at his brother’s boots, but only sighed and sat back in the captain’s chair.
“The King has made it clear that this mission requires a certain amount of…discretion. We will find some smuggler’s cove to put off into, and be done with it there. No harbors, no cities, no customs officials,” Maaz hissed, smiling with that painful grin. Maarkov’s gut filled with cold dread, like a jug being filled with water.
“And the ship, the crew?”
“As I said, dear brother. Discretion.”
Maarkov sighed, touching his sword unconsciously and imagining it sliding into the bodies of the sailors outside the door. “That’s a lot of blood, Maaz. It will be Shundov all over again.”
“Oh, my heart weeps for it, dear brother. I promise to have trouble sleeping over it,” Maaz chuckled, an insulting sneer slithering onto his pallid face. Maarkov sighed and leaned back, pushing the rage down once again.
“Once we get there, how do you plan on tracking down the girl and the bracelet?” Maarkov asked, changing the subject.
“I have ways of finding information. It will be a simple matter, really. I’ll need you to…borrow one of the crewmembers before we depart the vessel. Anyone will do. Then we will have the information we need, I assure you. We’ll have their trail the first day we make landfall.” Maaz explained, reaching over and taking a dainty sip of wine from a goblet at his elbow.
“The sooner this is over, the better,” Maarkov commented, pulling his boots from the desk and rising to leave.
“So you can go back to entertaining the whores of Old Galan? Or will it be Fal-Nelek this time, the new Galan?”
“We all have our vices, Maaz. Some of us like to fuck, and some of us like to…skin people alive and drink their blood,” Maarkov spat, turning to leave.
The only sound he heard as he slammed the door was his brother’s hissing cackles as he laughed mockingly at the comment. Maarkov once again tried to quiet the rage that was boiling in his chest, forcing it down inch by mental inch.
He smiled as he imagined sliding his blade slowly into his brother’s ribs. One day, he promised himself, I’ll be free of that snake. One day I’ll kill him.
****
“Dormael! D’Jenn! Get over here, both of you!” Dormael’s mother was a short woman, no more than shoulder height to him and a little less to D’Jenn. She had fiery red hair that stuck out in curls in all directions, as if she spent more time simply brushing it from her face than she did actually brushing it. She had a ready smile on her face, and though she was just past fifty years, wrinkles had yet to touch her.
She was stepping lightly down the front steps of the sprawling house, gesturing wildly at her eldest son and nephew in come-hither motions, her hands stained purple with the mush of crushed grapes. She wore a green dress made of linen that Dormael immediately thought was a little too thin for the cold, and a pair of ridiculous looking furry slippers. Dormael smiled broadly as he swung down from Horse, and strode over to his mother.
“You’re going to catch a chill, you know,” Dormael chided her, embracing the small woman in a deep, strong hug, “Those old bones of yours aren’t what they used to be.”
“I’ll whip a switch out and tan that hide of yours, then you’ll see just how old these bones are, boy,” Yanette shot back, slapping his arm. She turned to D’Jenn. “Don’t hang around in the back, now D’Jenn. Get over here and give your aunt Yanette a hug, and don’t think you’ll be immune to the switching, either. I remember the three of you boys running around here getting into everything you could.”
“Good to see you to, Aunt Yanette,” D’Jenn smiled, his piercing eyes brightening, “still as fiery as ever, I see.”
“Damn right,” she replied, pulling D’Jenn to her in another warm embrace. “Allen, why don’t you get your worthless butt inside and get some drinks for your family? And go out back and grab your father.”
“Why don’t you hobble your own old butt back there and get him? I’m busy with your new granddaughter,” Allen laughed back, holding Bethany up out of the saddle and causing her to laugh in little silvery peals.
Yanette gasped and turned a shocked glance on Dormael, conveying a whole range of surprise, pleasure, and accusation all at once. She rushed over to Allen’s horse and grabbed Bethany up into a great hug before setting her on the ground. Bethany smiled and bit her lower lip, a little shy with all the affection she was receiving so suddenly.
“Well,” Yanette breathed, “aren’t you just the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen? My first granddaughter…well, then. I’m your grandma, dear.”
“Her name is Bethany, mom,” Dormael informed her from his place by the steps, “I’ve adopted her.”
“I guess we all have, then. Welcome to the family, Bethany,” Yanette smiled, and held out her hand to the little girl. Bethany took it and held onto it. Yanette smiled, and sniffed a great sob away as she wiped a tear from her face with the other hand.
“Always crying,” Allen sighed, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
“Shut up boy,” Yanette laugh-sobbed back, “I’ll cry all I want.” Yanette looked up as Shawna stepped down from Charlotte and came to stand beside Dormael and D’Jenn, hanging back a little as if she were unsure of what to do. “Come on over here, girl, let me get a look at you, don’t be shy.”
“Shawna Llewan,” Shawna smiled, mimicking the Sevenlander bow with her right fist over her heart.
“Yanette Harlun and it’s a pleasure, dear,” Yanette grinned back and bowed in turn, “Don’t worry about these two boys, they have the most horrible manners. Sometimes you’d think they were raised by wild animals with the way they act.”
“I couldn’t agree
more,” Shawna replied, giving Dormael a slight wink.
“So are you a daughter or a niece?” Yanette asked with an easy smile on her face. Shawna looked a little confused, and Dormael a little mortified. D’Jenn gave a short bark of laughter as if he were going to answer the question, but then thought better of it.
“Mom, she’s a friend. We’re travelling together, that’s all,” Dormael explained, holding his hands up as if he expected the short woman to start pelting him with something.
“What do you mean a niece or a daughter?” Shawna asked, talking over Dormael.
“Well, not to be blunt dear, but what I meant was: which one of these degenerate boys are you courting?”
“Oh! I see, well -,” Shawna began, her cheeks turning red again with embarrassment.
“Like I said, mom, just a friend. We’re headed to Ishamael,” Dormael sighed, placing his hand on Shawna’s arm to calm her. Shawna bit her lip and shrugged, letting a bit of a laugh escape.
“Uh-huh. Business, I guess? It’s always business with you boys. When are you going to come spend a summer at home with your family? Allen’s off fighting in that damned death ring and you two are always off doing…well, whatever it is that you do. Conclave business and all that, I know. But you could spare some time to come home once in a while and see your old mom, couldn’t you? You too, D’Jenn. Your mother misses you too, you know. She was out this way in autumn, and she mentioned you. She said that you haven’t been home in years.”
D’Jenn actually looked slightly abashed. Dormael would have smiled had he not been receiving the same tongue-lashing.
“There’s always so much to do, I know,” Yanette continued, “but us old folk aren’t going to be around forever, you know.”
“Mom, they get it. They’re tired. Evmir’s Hammer, old woman, let’s go inside,” Allen sighed, rolling his eyes and smiling at his mother.
The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs) Page 47