Child of the Flames (The Seven Signs Book 1)

by D. W. Hawkins

  Bethany’s power was immense. All wizards had a natural capacity for how much magic they could channel. As far as anyone understood, it was the one thing determined by birth, and each wizard was different. Dormael was known at the Conclave for being among the strongest wizards of his generation. His power was vast, and he’d always felt lucky in that regard.

  Bethany’s gift was more than half again as strong as his own.

  All the gods in the Void!

  “What is this?” Bethany opened her eyes, a mystified expression on her face. She looked to Shawna and smiled in wonder. “Your hair…it’s really pretty. I never noticed before.”

  Shawna let out a confused laugh. “Thank you, little one.”

  “Why doesn’t the snow sing like this all the time?” Bethany looked to the darkness beyond the firelight.

  “It does.” Dormael laughed. “You’re just not always listening.”

  “You’re Blessed, squirt.” D’Jenn smiled. “You’re one of us.”

  Dormael nodded. “That sound you hear is magic.”

  “How did you know?” Bethany gazed slowly around the camp.

  Dormael shrugged. “We’re good at this sort of thing, remember? Now, I want you to listen again.” He opened his own Kai, and let his song ring out through the night. “Can you hear that?”

  Bethany nodded. “What is it?”

  “That’s me.” Dormael smiled. “That’s the sound of my magic. That’s my Kai.”

  “And this,” D’Jenn said, awakening his own power, “is mine.”

  Bethany laughed and put a hand to her chest. “I like mine better.”

  Dormael smiled—he remembered what it was like the first time he’d learned to listen to magic, to see the world through the eyes of a wizard. The light danced across one’s vision instead of passing it. The moonlight almost had a taste to it, and the wind could tell a story.

  “Alright.” D’Jenn broke the spell. “Now that you know how to open your Kai, you must learn to close it.”

  “Sink back into the pool,” Dormael said, “and I’ll show you how to—”

  “Wait.” Bethany laughed. “Whose song is that?”

  Dormael gasped in alarm—an alien, silvery song hummed at the edge of his senses.

  The armlet!

  “Bethany, wait! Don’t reach for—”

  Bethany sucked in a startled breath, her eyes going wide.

  A bright, orange light filled the campsite. Tears leaked down Bethany’s cheeks, but her expression was frozen in terror. The song of the armlet entwined with Bethany’s power, like a parent holding an errant child by the arm. Dormael tried to force his way into the link with his Kai, to wrest the alien song away from the girl, but it was like climbing against the weight of a waterfall. D’Jenn’s song worked at something, but Dormael could barely hear it.

  Magic screamed in Dormael’s Kai, like the clearing was the center of a storm.

  Dormael broke through the armlet’s hold on Bethany and lent some of his power to her. If his energy did her any good, her face didn’t react. Her eyes dilated to their limits, swirling with bright orange and yellow light. Dormael’s blood was chilled.

  Bethany’s body shook, and she floated from the ground. The campfire froze in place, held in stasis. Heat still radiated from the flames, but they didn’t flicker. Bethany’s hands twitched, and the flames twitched in response. Shawna screamed and scooted away.

  D’Jenn’s song joined its power to Dormael’s, and he redoubled his efforts to fight the armlet away. He drew on Bethany’s vast reserve of power and seized control of her Kai. Something fought him for control, like a dog with a stick, until Dormael wrenched the power away with an angry effort of will.

  Bethany hit the ground and fell on her side, her magic going silent. She started to cry, and Dormael made to help her, but Bethany was too fast. She scrambled to her feet and ran into the night, her sobs echoing as she disappeared into the snow.

  “Gods!” Dormael cursed.

  “Go after her, I’ll deal with the armlet!” D’Jenn said.

  Dormael dragged himself to his feet and ran after Bethany.

  He followed a trail of broken snow toward the east. Bethany must have been fleet of foot to have gotten so far in the dark. The trail led through the sparse trees, past the road, and toward the seaside cliffs. The air took on a wet chill and the salty smell of the sea grew thick.

  Dormael found her sitting on a stone overlooking the sea.

  She sat with her back to him, her sobs echoing over the wind. The sea beyond the cliffs reflected the moonlight in dancing flickers of silver. The waves crashed to the rocks below, and the wind buffeted Dormael’s ears. His feet were frozen and wet, and his breath was thick with exertion.

  He sat down before Bethany could protest and put an arm around her shoulders. She resisted at first, but he held her against his side until she stopped moving. She settled against him and sobbed into his cloak.

  Dormael took a nervous breath. “I’m sorry that happened to you. It isn’t always like that.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Well, it’s never like that.” Dormael smiled. “That was the armlet’s doing. You know that, though, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “We didn’t know it would reach out that way. I’m sorry. It’s our fault.”

  “I’m not angry.” She shuddered. “I was just scared.”

  “It’s alright to be scared. Scared is what keeps you alive, sometimes.”

  “It is?”

  Dormael nodded. “You can’t be brave unless you’re scared first. It’s how you deal with it that matters.”

  “How do you deal with it?”

  Dormael leaned in close, as if to share a secret. “I swallow it.”

  She gave him a disbelieving look. “You do not.”

  “I do.” Dormael winked. “I swallow it and hold it in my stomach. Fear can’t come out of your stomach—everybody knows that.”

  “You’re just making things up.”

  “Would I do something like that?”

  Bethany smiled. “Shawna said never to trust a word out of your mouth.”

  “Who are you going to believe, though?”

  I’ll have to ask Shawna about that.

  “Can you use magic to change your hair? I want red hair like Shawna, before she changed it.”

  Dormael mussed the girl’s brown locks. “You can, in a way. If you come back to camp, we’ll teach you. You can do it yourself one day.”

  Bethany’s eyes widened. “You’re going to teach me?”

  “Of course.” Dormael smirked. “Did you think we’d just let you go without teaching you?”

  “I don’t know,” Bethany mumbled. “No one’s ever taught me anything.”

  Dormael peered at Bethany, a question on the tip of his tongue. Where had she come from? Where were her parents? Dormael always thought of them at inappropriate times.

  I’ll find out one day, when she’s ready to tell me.

  “Well,” he said, rising from the stone, “that’s going to change. Come on, little one. Let’s get out of the wind.”

  “This is all very touching,” said a deep voice from behind them, “but you won’t be going anywhere.”

  Dormael spun, pushing Bethany behind him. Four men stood in the darkness, outlined by the moonlight. Three of them held crossbows, drawn and ready to loose. Dormael cursed his folly at not hearing their approach. The sound of the wind and sea below must have drowned them out.

  A tall, muscular man with braided hair stepped forward. He pulled a short sword from his belt and favored Dormael with a smile. He gestured at the men behind him.

  “If the Sevenlander moves, shoot the girl first.”

  Inconvenient Enemies

  Dormael clenched his jaw and stared the brigand in the eyes.

  He awakened his Kai, drawing the night into clear focus. The four men were tough, sinewy types, and had a desperate looks in their eyes. They wore leather and fur, a
nd their weapons were well-made. The three in the back were Cambrellian, but the tall one with the braids was from the Dannon steppes.

  They cut off wizards’ fingers up there for magical charms.

  “Hurt the girl,” Dormael growled, “and you die.”

  “I told you we should have put bolts through the Sevenlander from back there!” The man on the left shot fearful glances between Dormael and the Dannon. “They’ve all got sorcery in them! I told you, dammit!”

  “Regan,” the Dannon said, keeping his eyes on Dormael, “if you keep pissing yourself, I’ll put a sword in your guts myself when this is over.”

  Regan gulped.

  “What’s a Dannon doing south of the steppe?” Dormael pulled magic from the ether, filling his body with power as he drew in his breath.

  “Tracking down a bitch and her pet sorcerer.” The Dannon showed his teeth and gestured with his sword. “We’re taking the child into our care. If you play nice, she won’t be harmed. Test me, and the first thing I’ll do is cut her pretty throat. Understand?”

  These aren’t Galanians. There must be bounties on our heads.

  With the Earl of Ferolan’s seal, Colonel Grant had probably circulated their descriptions throughout the region and offered a reward for their capture. It was a smart play, and one he and D’Jenn should have anticipated. Dormael wanted to slap himself.

  The magic burned inside him. “I understand.”

  The air was strained, filled with the anticipation of violence. Dormael could feel the racing heartbeats of the Cambrellians, could hear the muscles in their jaws tightening as they clenched their teeth together. He sensed the light, eager tension of fingers tightening on triggers.

  Dormael focused on the tips of the crossbow bolts. He tied threads of magic to the wooden shafts, pumping them with energy. The bolts vibrated in their settings. One of the men faltered, pulling his crossbow away to check it.

  “Funny thing about crossbows.” Dormael smiled. “They’re useless if you take the bolts out.”

  The bolts made rhythmic cracks as they shattered, falling from their slots.

  The Dannon raised his sword. “Take them!”

  Dormael reached out with Kai, ripping the crossbows from the hands of their wielders. He smashed them together in the air, shattering them with the force of this magic. Bethany squealed, clutching his cloak in a meager shield. With a grunt of effort, Dormael sent the shattered pieces flying into the crossbowmen with enough speed to whistle as they flew. Leather-clad men went down in sprays of blood, staining the snow red beneath them.

  The Dannon snarled and came for Dormael, but the brute found himself wrapped in hardened air. He snarled something unintelligible, struggling against the crystallizing barrier around him. He went still, held in mid stride with his sword raised, his eyes full of blood rage.

  Shouts rang out from the direction of camp, and the smile on the Dannon’s face told Dormael his friends were in danger. Leaving the Dannon to languish in his magical prison, Dormael dragged Bethany back in the direction of their campfire. She held tight to his hand and came without protest.

  Halfway there he saw a bright flare of light, and wild screams erupted as it grew in intensity. In a few moments a man ran out of the trees, screeching in pain as flames crawled over his body. Dormael winced and shoved Bethany behind him. He killed the man by twisting his neck with his Kai. Clutching Bethany’s hand, he dragged her farther into the trees.

  He made it back in time to find Shawna and D’Jenn taking care of their last two attackers. Two more corpses lay bleeding around the fire. Despite the screams Dormael had heard, neither Shawna nor D’Jenn seemed to be injured.

  Shawnwa pulled her sword out of a blonde man and spotted Dormael. “You’re alive!”

  “Aye. There’s four more like these on the other side of the road. I left one of them alive.”

  D’Jenn turned from the dying man at his feet. “Good. Let’s go see what he has to say for himself.” He cleaned his mace in a snowbank and started for the road. “Come on.”

  They found the Dannon where Dormael had left him, stiff and staring daggers into the cold sea wind. D’Jenn stepped where the Dannon could see him and looked the man up and down. After a long, threatening look into the man’s eyes, D’Jenn stepped back and gestured for Dormael to loosen his spell. Dormael put a cautionary hand on Bethany’s shoulder and dismissed the thickened air around the Dannon’s body.

  The northman fell into the snow, snarling as he came loose from the spell.

  “Imagine our surprise when your friends came out of the night.” D’Jenn smiled down at the Dannon. “Imagine theirs, before they lost their lives.”

  “If it’s begging you’re looking for, you won’t get it out of me, sorcerer.” The northman spat. “My mother sang my blood-song when I became a man. You won’t have my soul.”

  Shawna gave him a confused look. “What’s he talking about?”

  “He thinks I’m going to steal his soul.” D’Jenn smirked. “He’s afraid his spirit will have to serve me in the afterlife. As for the blood-song—that’s what his mother whispered to him while they lay together.”

  The northman growled and tried to scramble to his feet, but D’Jenn raised his hand and lashed out with his power, sending the Dannon back into the snow.

  “Don’t get up. If you get up, there will be pain. Understood?”

  The northman only stared.

  Shawna sighed. “He isn’t going to talk.”

  “Oh, he’ll talk,” D’Jenn kept his eyes on the Dannon. “There will be a bit of screaming first, maybe a spot of cursing, begging the gods for salvation. Talking will follow soon after.”

  Shawna’s face went a little white. She crossed her arms and took a deep breath, giving D’Jenn a grim nod. Her hand fell to the hilt of one of her swords, as if touching it gave her comfort, but that was all the emotion she betrayed.

  A few days ago, she couldn’t handle a bawdy joke, but now she’s ready for torture?

  “Just keep it quiet and be quick.” Dormael nodded at Bethany when D’Jenn looked to him. “We’ll clean up the mess, see if they have anything worth keeping.”

  D’Jenn nodded and gestured above his head. A blur formed around the three of them—D’Jenn, Shawna, and the northman—and coalesced into an opaque dome of blackness. Dormael listened for muffled screams, but no sound came from within.

  Bethany grimaced. “Do we have to move those?” She pointed to one of the corpses, crumpled into a pile of disturbed, bloody snow.

  “I’ll take care of those, little one.” Dormael sighed. “You look around and see if they dropped anything. Are you alright?”

  Bethany nodded and shambled away before Dormael could say more. She trudged around in the snow, keeping wide of the bodies. Dormael turned and started moving the corpses with his power. He piled the bodies in the trees and burned them with magical fire. The men had left their horses down the hill, and Dormael corralled them together. He returned to the burn site and crushed the scorched remains to dust. Bethany tugged on his cloak as he was churning the ashes into the dirt.

  “What is it?”

  “Look!” She proffered a bulging leather purse. Dormael pened the snaps to reveal a fortune in silver Cambrellian marks. He reached into the purse and pulled out a handful of the coins—letting the silver marks tinkle back into the purse.

  Dormael raised his eyebrows. “Where did you find this?”

  “In one of their saddlebags.” Bethany grinned. “I found some string, too.”

  Dormael plucked one of the coins from the purse and flipped it to Bethany.

  “Here—keep that one. It’ll be our secret.”

  Bethany tucked the coin away with a smile.

  D’Jenn and Shawna came back to camp once the mess was cleaned. The Dannon wasn’t with them, and neither spoke of his absence. Dormael tossed the purse to D’Jenn, who raised a surprised brow once he saw the coins inside.

  “Eindor’s bloody eye.” D’Jenn
smiled. “Where did you find this?”

  “Bethany found it.”

  She nodded. “On one of their horses.”

  D’Jenn fished a silver mark from the purse and handed it to Bethany. “Here—for a job well done.” Bethany grinned and accepted the coin, shooting Dormael a conspiratorial glance.

  “That must be what he meant.” Shawna looked down at the money. “He said they got paid double.”

  “Double?” Dormael asked.

  “On account of there being magic involved,” D’Jenn said. “Our former friend’s name was Fulgaar. He was a tracker, a bounty hunter from Borders.”

  Dormael gave him suspicious look. “Since when do bounties get paid up front?”

  D’Jenn shrugged. “When the quarry is this important, I guess. This dangerous, maybe. They knew about Shawna, knew about you. Didn’t expect me, though.”

  “So, the Red Swords are ahead of us.”

  “We should have expected it.” D’Jenn let out a frustrated breath. “There’s no way we could have stopped every pigeon from flying to Borders, anyway. Fulgaar got our contract from a man named Hadrick Lucius. He’s a big man in town, apparently.”

  “Borders is a trap.” Dormael gave the snow a frustrated kick. “Our avenues of escape are closing around us.”

  “I don’t think so.” D’Jenn shook his head. “If this Hadrick Lucius is a local tough, he won’t speak the same language as the Red Swords.”

  Shawna furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

  “He’ll be open to bribery.” D’Jenn shrugged. “The leader of a crime syndicate is a businessman at heart. Lucius could probably give two golden shits about us—he wants money, or something just as good.”

  “And you think you can negotiate with him?” Shawna’s tone was full of doubt.

  “I think we don’t have much of a choice,” D’Jenn grunted. “We have to get over the sea, and Borders is our last hope until spring. Maybe we can offer him something.”

  Shawna crossed her arms. “And if you can’t?”

  “We threaten him.” D’Jenn fingered the half of his morningstar. “Threats can be powerful motivators, especially if you make them sound good.”

  Dormael sighed. “I still say it’s a trap.”