The Seventh Sigil (Dragon Brigade Series)

by Margaret Weis

  “God bless the duchess!” said Stephano, thinking she sounded a lot like his mother.

  “And now, Captain, what is the plan?” Haelgrund asked.

  The sun was fierce this morning; Stephano and Dag were both sweating in their heavy uniforms. Stephano proposed they walk over to stand in the shadow cast by the fortress walls. Master Tutillo appeared with camp chairs for the humans, and he unfolded them in the shade. Haelgrund settled down with his tail curled around his feet.

  Stephano sent the midshipman to ask Sir Conal to join them. While they waited, Stephano asked Haelgrund if dragons had ever flown through the Breath down to the bottom of the world.

  “I spoke to our loremasters,” said Haelgrund. “During the end of the Sunlit Empire, one of the dukes asked dragon explorers to fly below the Breath, find out what was at the bottom of the world, see if it was suitable for habitation. This was during the time of turmoil in the human kingdoms, a time of turmoil for our kind as well. A time when our cousins left us.”

  Haelgrund cast a glance at the wild dragons. His gaze fixed on Viola, who happened to be lounging in the sunshine. The light caused her scales to glisten with jewel-like colors of amethyst and ruby.

  Dag saw the male dragon’s admiration and nudged Stephano. “I think romance is in the air,” he whispered.

  “I don’t have time for romance,” said Stephano curtly.

  Dag raised an eyebrow. Stephano flushed.

  “You know what I mean. Not dragon romance.”

  Dag grinned and shook his head. Stephano went back to business.

  “You were saying, Haelgrund? About the Breath?”

  “What? Oh, yes. The dragons were able to fly through the liquid part of the Breath, although the experience was not a pleasant one. It was very nearly disastrous. Some turned back, but others persevered and reached the bottom of the world. Of course, at that time, no humans were living there. Our explorers reported a land of shadows and swamp, of no value to anyone. Certainly no dragon would ever care to dwell in such a place.”

  At that moment, Sir Conal arrived and was introduced to the dragon. Stephano asked the knight to describe how he and Miri had sailed the Trundler houseboat through the Breath, particularly the part the Trundlers called the Aurora—a layer of the Breath stretching between Above and Below that was so cold the mists congealed and liquefied.

  “So the difficult part for all of us will be to fly through the Aurora,” said Stephano. “We have room for you dragons to shelter inside the fortress.”

  Haelgrund cast a glance at the fortress. The dragon’s mane twitched.

  “All of us, cooped up in there, penned in like cattle?”

  “Just until we pass through the Aurora,” said Stephano.

  Haelgrund gave a grunt. “We will discuss it.”

  That was Haelgrund’s polite way of saying Stephano should stay out of dragon business. But since it was his business to make certain the dragons arrived safely, Stephano was ready with another idea.

  “My friend, Miri, had a suggestion. The fortress goes first and punches a hole through the liquid. You dragons would fly through it. This is how the Bottom Dwellers’ ships pass through the Aurora,” he added. “The hulls of their vessels are covered in contramagic constructs that disperse the liquid, opening up a hole.”

  “That sounds more sensible,” said Haelgrund. “What do we do once we arrive at our destination?”

  “If all goes according to plan, the fortress will remain hidden in the storm clouds as we descend.” Stephano told the dragon the information he had received about the invasion fleet. He drew a crude map in the dirt. “There is a mountain not far from the city where the invasion fleet is located. We plan to set the fortress down on the other side of the mountain. Powerful wizard storms caused by the contramagic are sweeping the land. There are caves in the mountain where you and the others should be able to stay until the storms subside. Once that happens, we will attack the fleet and destroy it.”

  Haelgrund was eyeing Stephano. “Sounds far too easy, Captain.”

  “There might be one or two complications,” Stephano admitted. He spread his hands. “The truth is, we don’t know what we’re going to find down there.”

  Haelgrund gave a grunt, his mane bristled and his eyes glinted. “I look forward to flying into action with you once again, Captain.”

  Stephano rose to his feet and stretched the kinks out of his back. Haelgrund returned to his comrades to apprise them of the plan.

  “Could I have a moment of your time, Captain?” Sir Conal asked, as they were walking back to the fortress.

  He relied on his cane to help him walk, though that did not seem to slow him down.

  “Certainly, sir,” said Stephano. “I have not had an opportunity to thank you for traveling with my mother, watching over and protecting her.”

  “Your mother is a remarkable woman,” Sir Conal said, smiling. “A woman of courage and strong will. Extremely strong will. I still do not feel right about leaving her, but I could not very well disobey her direct order.”

  “Kings have bowed to my mother’s will, sir,” said Stephano, smiling.

  “Your mother spoke of you often, Captain. She is very proud of you, and she loves you very much.”

  “I wish I was entitled to her love, sir,” said Stephano. “I treated her badly.”

  “She intended you to feel the way you did. She was protecting you from her enemies at court. All that will change. As the priest said, no matter what happens, for good or for ill, Rosia will not be the same.”

  “I suppose not,” said Stephano.

  They had arrived at the fortress. Dag had hurried on ahead. Stephano could see Master Tutillo waiting for him, almost bursting to tell him news. Probably bad.

  Stephano turned to the knight. “If you will excuse me—”

  “Just a moment. Let me blunt, Captain,” said Sir Conal. “I am doing nothing except taking up space and eating your rations. With your permission, I would like to return to the Mother House in Evreux. I have a presentiment I’m going to be needed there.”

  “You believe there will be war,” said Stephano.

  “Even if you do manage to stop the invasion fleet, the black ships are here, and they have struck Westfirth, Braffa, Estara, and God knows where else by now. Your mother foiled Eiddwen’s plot to destroy the palace. They will attack Rosia again.”

  “Of course, you have my permission, sir. You may have your pick of the griffins we have stabled here.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I will leave immediately. I am honored to have met you. You are your mother’s son and that is the greatest compliment I can think to give.”

  “The honor is mine, sir,” said Stephano.

  The two shook hands.

  “Yes, Master Tutillo,” said Stephano.

  “Monsieur Rodrigo’s compliments, Captain, and would you come speak to him. It’s about the magic, sir.”

  Stephano went inside the fortress and climbed the stairs that led to the bridge. Once there, he had to lean out a window to view his friend, who was perched on his scaffolding directly below.

  The Estaran crafters had transformed an island mountain into a fortress, magically planing the rough granite to form a smooth exterior. Stephano looked down to see Rodrigo passing his hand over the stone wall, murmuring words of magic. His eyes were half closed and, Stephano knew from having seen Rodrigo do this before, he was envisioning the construct in his mind and engraving his vision on the wall.

  Stephano leaned his elbows on the window ledge and watched in admiration. He recalled another Rodrigo, whose only concerns were for the lace on his cuffs and the rosettes on his shoes; a Rodrigo who slept until noon, made love to a half dozen women at a time and never allowed himself to be caught by any of them; a Rodrigo who used his considerable magical talent for parlor tricks or to hide from jealous husbands.

  He looked at this Rodrigo; grubby and dirty, his hands scratched and bleeding, perched on rickety scaffolding ten feet
in the air, working to create magic that could mean the difference between victory over their foes and death and defeat.

  Rodrigo let out a deep sigh and opened his eyes.

  “Well … that’s it,” he announced. “The magical shield is in place. Now we wait to see if it works.”

  “Is there any way to test it?” Stephano asked.

  “Not unless you have a few contramagic weapons lying about.”

  “Sorry, I’m afraid not,” said Stephano.

  Rodrigo left the scaffolding by means of a ladder. Reaching the bottom, he told the workmen they could start to dismantle it. He disappeared inside the fortress and a few moments later joined Stephano at the bridge. Master Tutillo arrived at the same moment, carrying two mugs of tea.

  “What an estimable young man!” Rodrigo exclaimed. “Now if you had only thought to add a drop of brandy…”

  “I did, sir!” said Master Tutillo, triumphant. “I thought you might need it. If there’s nothing else, sir, I have an errand to run for Lieutenant Thorgrimson.”

  He saluted and dashed off, leaving Rodrigo to regard him with moist eyes. “That boy is a treasure. I think I shall adopt him. He will be the son I never had. Or at least the son I never knew I had.”

  “Don’t let Dag hear you say things like that,” said Stephano. “He’s just starting to like you.”

  Rodrigo took a blissful sip of tea. “The Dragon Brigade flies again and I shall be part of it! I will wager that in your wildest dreams, Stephano, you never imagined that I would be heading into battle. Perhaps I shall earn a knighthood…”

  Stephano regarded his friend with deep affection. “Rigo, you have done a wonderful job. I can’t thank you enough. But I wish you would reconsider—”

  “My dear fellow, I wouldn’t miss this for the Duchess of Esterhausen’s spring gala. Well, perhaps not the spring gala, which is the event of the season, but certainly for her winter gala, which is deadly dull—”

  “Rigo, be serious for once in your life,” Stephano said sternly. “This will be dangerous—”

  “I understand the danger, my friend, probably better than you do,” said Rodrigo softly.

  “I shouldn’t let you come,” Stephano said.

  “You have no choice, I’m afraid,” said Rodrigo with a shrug and a smile.

  Stephano gave up. “This magical shield you’ve created. Does it work like the protective magic Gythe cast on the Cloud Hopper?”

  “It should be stronger than those Gythe cast,” said Rodrigo. “Now that I understand contramagic.”

  Stephano looked back out the window. “So what is the magical construct you put on our fortress?”

  “A combination of magic and contramagic.”

  “Won’t one destroy the other?” Stephano asked, alarmed.

  “Not if I’ve done this right. This is magic as God or science intended, depending on how you look at it,” Rodrigo explained. He joined Stephano to gaze down on his work with pride. “I must admit that after talking to Father Jacob, I’m starting to think God and science are one and the same.”

  “So what is it you’ve put on my fortress?” Stephano asked. He looked down and could not see a thing.

  “The seventh sigil,” replied Rodrigo.

  “And how do we know it works?”

  “We don’t,” said Rodrigo.

  30

  The nations of the world warned us that if we did not stop the deprivations of my brother—the so-called Pirate King—they would destroy our island. I fear that none of us believed them.

  —Xavier I, Memoirs

  Stephano was wakened before dawn by Master Tutillo, who greeted him with a cup of hot tea and the news that the tugboats had arrived. Stephano thanked the excited midshipman and sent him to inform Dag.

  When the lad was gone, Stephano sat on the edge of his bunk and blew on the steaming tea before taking a sip. He spent this moment as he always did before going into action: confronting Death, staring into the dark and empty eyes until fear subsided. He and Death then shook hands like gentlemen and parted.

  Once the tea cooled, he drank it as he put on his dress uniform. His Highness, Prince Renaud was coming to see them off. Stephano looked forward with pride to introducing the prince to Haelgrund and the members of the Dragon Brigade. Perhaps he could start mending the schism between humans and dragons.

  He walked out onto the battlements just as reveille was sounding. The early morning was clear, the air cool and refreshing. The dragons were still sleeping in the field, curled up into impossibly small balls, their tails wrapped around their noses.

  Haelgrund had formally invited the wild dragons to join the ranks of the noble dragons and fly with them into battle. Stephano was pleased. This gesture meant the noble dragons had accepted their wild dragon cousins as equals. He had been displeased, however, to note that Haelgrund had not invited Hroal and Droal to join them. The old dragons were disappointed, but accepting of their lot. As common dragons of low rank, they knew their place. They were quartermasters, remaining “on the ground” as the dragons termed it.

  Stephano knew the dragon brothers both dreamed of flying with the Brigade. But although he was their commander, he did not generally meddle in the dragons’ internal politics.

  The sailors and marines were in the mess, eating what would be their last hot meal. When the fortress embarked on the perilous journey, the cook would douse his fires and they would all live on cold food for the duration.

  When Stephano had first taken command, he had kept their destination secret, fearing spies, not wanting word to get back to the enemy. He knew most of the men were assuming they were going to war with Freya. They were astonished when he had informed them yesterday that they would be traveling Below to fight the enemy that had attacked Westfirth, sunk the Royal Lion and destroyed the Crystal Market.

  The men must have had their doubts about sailing to the bottom of the world; Stephano found it hard to believe himself at times, but most had friends who had served on the Royal Lion or family who had been in the Crystal Market and they gave him a rousing cheer at the end of his speech.

  Dag walked along the battlements. He was grinning hugely and rubbing his hands, as happy and excited as a child on Yule.

  “With your permission, sir, I’ll meet with the tugboat captains, explain their duties,” said Dag. “I was there when the Estarans first towed the fortress into place. She can be a bit tricky to handle. When is His Highness due to arrive?”

  “In about an hour,” said Stephano, glancing at his watch. “You’ll need to be on hand for the welcome.”

  “All that bowing and scraping. Waste of valuable time, if you ask me, sir,” Dag grumbled.

  “We can spare him a few moments. Without the prince, I would be in prison in the Citadel. Have you seen Miri this morning?”

  “The sailors are securing the Cloud Hopper to the dock. She’s supervising.” Dag shook his head. “God help the poor lads.”

  “I’ll go rescue them,” said Stephano.

  The dragons were awake and, led by Haelgrund, they flew off to hunt what might be their last meal before arriving at their destination. He accompanied Viola, rousing Verdi’s ire and causing Petard to tease his sister until she turned to snap at him. Hroal and Droal, not invited on the hunting party, flew off on their own.

  Stephano walked around the fortress, inspecting the work, making certain all was ready. He then descended to the dock, where he found Miri swearing at his crew in Trundler. The sailors were attempting to secure the houseboat with ropes attached to iron rings embedded in the stone walls of the fortress and not doing it to her satisfaction. As he watched, she smacked one sailor on the head with the flat of her hand.

  “Where did you find these lubbers?” Miri demanded angrily of Stephano, storming over to confront him.

  “Prince Renaud sent his best men,” he said in soothing tones. He consulted his watch and frowned. “Speaking of His Highness, he should be here by now. Do you have everything you requir
e on board the houseboat? Did Rigo repair the magic? Did he add protecting constructs?”

  “I have everything. The houseboat is covered in Gythe’s protective constructs. He thinks they’ll protect the boat on their own. He didn’t want to do anything that might disrupt them.”

  “But he doesn’t know for sure they will protect you.”

  “We can’t know anything for sure, Stephano,” said Miri.

  Stephano sighed. “We’re flying into this battle on a wing and a prayer. Once you’re finished here, I’d like you to be up on the bridge. I’ll need you to guide the helmsmen to our landing site. When we’re in position, you can leave for the temple in the Hopper and bring back my mother and Gythe.”

  “Any message to your mother?”

  “Yes,” said Stephano softly. “Ask her to please forgive me.”

  “She’s a mother, Stephano,” said Miri. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  He took her hand and drew her off into a secluded hallway.

  “Where are you taking me?” Miri asked, laughing.

  “A kiss for luck.”

  He embraced her and was about to kiss her when Master Tutillo seemed to spring up out of the floor.

  “Captain, sir, you’re needed— Oh, uh, sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “What is it, Master Tutillo?” Stephano asked with all the patience he could muster.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Lieutenant Thorgrimson’s compliments and you’re wanted on the bridge. A griffin messenger just arrived. He says it’s urgent.”

  “Thank you, I’ll come.”

  Stephano turned back to Miri. “You know what’s in my heart. I want to marry you. Why won’t you give me an answer?”

  “I’m still thinking.”

  “What’s there to think about?” Stephano asked.

  “You see?” said Miri. “That’s the problem.”

  She kissed him gently on the cheek. “Go deal with your crisis. I have work of my own to do.”

  She pushed him away and ran back to the boat.

  Stephano shook his head in frustration. Turning, he nearly fell over Master Tutillo.