The Seventh Sigil (Dragon Brigade Series)

by Margaret Weis

  Julian is with Stephano, Cecile reminded herself. He is riding by his side, watching over him with a father’s love.

  “Bring our son safely home, my love,” Cecile prayed softly.

  38

  Soaring above. Ever vigilant below.

  —Motto of the Dragon Brigade

  The members of the Dragon Brigade waited in the shelter of the caves the dragons were using for refuge, watching the rain and listening to the booming thunder that shook the mountain. Stephano was mounted on Viola; Dag was on Verdi. Haelgrund and the other dragons, including the immensely proud dragon brothers, Hroal and Droal, were there, too, all of them waiting for the wizard storm to end.

  Haelgrund had stated that he and the other dragons could fly in the wizard storm. It was clear that he was reluctant, however, and Stephano had his own reservations. The driving rain reduced visibility to such an extent that Stephano feared they might lose their way. The lightning strikes could be deadly, the whipping winds perilous. He decreed that they would remain in the caves and trust that Gythe and the princess would find a way to stop the storms.

  Haelgrund was skeptical. He considered ludicrous the idea of a human, even a savant, stopping the storms with magic. Rodrigo had assured his friends that Gythe could work miracles. The saints had stopped the storms centuries ago, and he believed that Gythe and the princess, both savants, could do the same. But he was alone in his belief.

  Even Dag was dubious.

  “I love Gythe dearly and I’ve learned to just about tolerate Rigo, but if ever there were two weak reeds in this world, sir, you’re leaning on both of them.”

  And so Stephano waited in a cave, mounted in the saddle, listening to the drums. Even here, miles from the city, he could hear the beating, feel it in his body, thudding in his heart. He was having difficulty shaking off an oppressive sense of gloom and foreboding, feelings he had never before experienced when flying into battle. He wondered if the contramagic could be having an effect on him, as well as on the dragons of the Brigade.

  “The sooner we stop that racket, the better,” he muttered grimly to himself.

  Viola turned her head to look back at him, her eyes glinting. She could hear a whisper, it seemed, or maybe his thoughts. He smiled at her reassuringly and wished the storm would end. He hated waiting.

  When the sky began to lighten, at first he said nothing, fearing he was seeing a product of his overeager imagination. The rain stopped, the lightning flickered out, the thunder rumbled away. The sun broke through the clouds.

  Stephano smiled broadly and grinned at Dag. “Now what do you say?”

  “God bless Gythe and Rigo,” Dag replied solemnly, putting on his helm. Stephano put on his own, and gave the order to fly.

  The dragons soared out of the cave, led by Stephano and Viola, with Dag and Verdi on his right flank. Haelgrund flew behind, leading the Brigade.

  Petard came to grief immediately. He had been told he was to fly in the rear of the formation, as befitted his status as a new recruit. But in his excitement and impatience with his slower elders, he thrust his way to the front of the cave and flew out ahead of everyone, including Stephano.

  Haelgrund bellowed furiously, and Stephano was angry at this breach of discipline. He was about to order the young dragon grounded when Viola twisted her head to look back at him, pleading for understanding.

  “Gythe calls to him,” she said.

  Viola’s language skills had vastly improved since Haelgrund had taken it upon himself to teach her. He would have taught the other two, but Petard could not be bothered and Verdi was too bitterly jealous of his rival to take advantage of the offer.

  “Are Gythe and Miri and the others all right?” Stephano asked worriedly.

  Viola shook her head. She didn’t know.

  Stephano let Petard go. He could not do much else, given that the dragon was already far ahead of them, out of earshot.

  * * *

  The Dragon Brigade flew from the cave into the pale, watery sunlight. Stephano had left Gunnery Officer Vega in command of the fort. Stephano had been planning to leave the fort under Dag’s command, but those plans had changed with his idea to attack the temple. He would need Dag to lead the attack on the fleet, leaving Stephano free to accomplish his mission.

  Vega was a competent, though unimaginative officer. Stephano might have been worried about him, but he did not consider it likely the fortress would come under assault. From what Sir Conal had learned, Xavier had allocated the majority of his forces to the invasion fleet, leaving his forts and outposts only sparsely defended.

  As they flew over the fortress, he looked down to see the Rosian colors flying from the flagpole above the bridge and Rodrigo’s magical construct, the mysterious seventh sigil, which had been hammered and chiseled directly into the stone below the bridge. The last Stephano had seen of Rodrigo, his friend had been working to activate the magic. Stephano knew nothing about magic, so he had no idea if this seventh sigil was in any way meaningful. Haelgrund, however, had been amazed and impressed.

  “Ingenious,” he had said, eyeing the construct. “Finally you humans have come to your senses.”

  The Brigade flew on, leaving the fortress behind. They could now see the ships of the Bottom Dwellers with the naked eye. The fleet was made up of a hodgepodge of various types of ships the fiends had captured over the years. Stephano counted twenty warships, including a Freyan warship, ten smaller ships that were probably used to transport troops, and a couple of what were likely supply ships. Among these were several Travian merchants, a Rosian passenger ship, and even a Freyan trawler.

  He wondered if the warships still had their cannons, if the Bottom Dwellers knew how to operate cannons or if they would use only their powerful green beam weapons. If the ships had cannons, the captains had not yet run them out.

  Stephano smiled grimly. He truly had the element of surprise.

  The ships had inflated their balloons preparatory to launch. Now that the skies were clearing, they were preparing to set sail. The Brigade would soon be flying into range. He pictured the reaction of the lookouts when they first saw dragons—creatures that had not been seen on Glasearrach in hundreds of years: shock and disbelief, terrified calls to officers who would react the same way. Thereafter, confusion and fear and frantic haste; precious moments of time lost during which the dragons could strike with impunity.

  He could now see the temple square in the distance. He put his spyglass to his eye. Petard was almost there. On the ground below, people were massed around a stage. He was too far away to be able to tell who was on the stage, but from what Miri had told him, Xavier would be there with Gythe and Sophia. He watched as Petard swooped down on the terrified crowd, sending them fleeing in fear.

  Stephano was pleased and surprised to see Petard actually giving some thought to what he was doing. He had listened as Stephano and Haelgrund discussed the plan, which Haelgrund had been supposed to carry out. He was to cause confusion, give Gythe and Sophia time to escape, and clear the temple square of as many civilians as possible. As Stephano watched the crowd scatter, he could only hope those he loved were among them.

  Stephano blew the signal on the bosun’s pipe, sending the dragons, led by Dag on Verdi and Haelgrund, to attack the ships. He and Droal and Hroal broke off from the main body. Flanked by the dragon brothers, Stephano took a moment to watch with pure pleasure the Dragon Brigade in action.

  The dragons were trained in assaulting ships. They attacked in pairs. Haelgrund and a veteran dragon, Lady Teloreau, were the first to attack, and they caught their victim completely unprepared. No one manned the green beam weapon, and none of the crew was even armed.

  Haelgrund, flying above the ship, breathed a broad swath of fire on the main deck to clear it, aiming especially for the officers, either killing them or forcing them to run for their lives.

  Lady Teloreau followed, specifically targeting the green beam weapon mounted on the ship’s prow, directing a narrow stre
am of flame at the beam weapon. It would be protected by magical constructs, in this case, contramagic, but dragon fire had the ability to break down all magical constructs and eventually destroy them, which is what made dragons far more effective than cannons in battle.

  Stephano had no idea how effective dragon breath would be against contramagic, so he took a moment to observe as dragon fire engulfed the entire platform on which the weapon stood, blackening the barrel, setting the wooden truck alight and toppling the weapon over on its side. He could not tell if the dragon had eroded the contramagic, but even if she hadn’t, the fiends would have to take time to put out the flames. Teloreau flew off to allow her partner to swoop in again.

  By this time, surviving members of the ship’s crew were arming themselves, firing green balls of contramagic at the dragons. Although the fireballs were ludicrously small compared to the immense size of the dragons, they could inflict a great deal of damage, far more than a bullet or even a cannonball, as Hroal could attest. He was still recovering from wounds he had received during the attack on the Westfirth. The contramagic in the green fire broke down the natural magical constructs on a dragon’s scales and skin, burning through to the flesh beneath. Such wounds were extremely painful, debilitating, and slow to heal.

  The frightened soldiers were firing in haste, and the flaming balls fell short of their target. Haelgrund breathed a blast of flame that incinerated many of the soldiers and sent the rest diving for cover. This done, he set fire to the masts and the rigging. Teloreau dove toward the ship, raking the balloon with her claws, shredding it and cutting through the lines that held it in place.

  “She’s a goner, sir!” Droal bellowed.

  Stephano agreed. All three of the ship’s masts were on fire, as well as the rigging, and the balloon was in tatters. Men were fleeing the burning ship, some of them desperate enough to jump over the rails as the ship plunged out of the sky, raining burning debris on the ground below.

  Stephano knew better than to declare victory. He could see that the dragons attacking other ships were having a more difficult time. Due to the fact that some of the ships of the fleet were docked in close proximity to one another, the dragons were not able to fly as close as Haelgrund and his partner for fear they would foul their wings on the rigging. The smaller ships were taking to the air as fast as they could, and the warships were readying their defenses. One, at least, was running out its cannons. The others were manning their green beam weapons and sending armed soldiers to fire at the dragons. Fortunately, the ships would be also hampered by the close proximity to their fellows. They would not want to risk destroying another ship.

  This battle was going to be bloody and one Stephano was not certain they could win. The drumming would have a debilitating effect on the dragons unless he could stop it. He waved at Dag, signaling he was going off on his mission. Dag acknowledged the wave and flew off on Verdi to join the battle.

  Stephano eyed the line of ships, searching for one that would suit his purposes. He settled on an old-fashioned Guundaran merchant vessel built along the same lines as the Sommerwind, the ship that had rescued the sinking Cloud Hopper after they left the island.

  Designed to carry cargo, the ship was big and bulky and slow moving. Merchant ships of that period were not armed, so he would not have to contend with cannons, although this one had a green beam weapon mounted on the bow, and soldiers with long guns lined the rails. The ship had the additional advantage of flying near the temple and slightly apart from its fellows.

  As he had arranged in advance, Stephano left the two dragon brothers behind as he and Viola flew to the attack. Smaller and faster than the two elder dragons, Viola could dart in, breathe fire, and dart out again with remarkable speed. She had also learned how to twist and roll to avoid enemy fire. Stephano made certain the straps that held him in the dragon saddle were cinched snug.

  They flew in below the bowsprit, then banked upward at the last moment, rising over the forecastle with a blast of flame. The soldiers died instantly as the dragon’s breath rolled over them.

  Stephano guided Viola down the starboard side of the ship; her fiery breath clearing a path before them. Sailors and soldiers had to scramble for cover, with no chance to return fire.

  When they cleared the stern, Viola banked hard into a twisting roll that brought them around to repeat their strafing run, only in reverse. She breathed fire onto the deck, setting it ablaze and making certain the remaining soldiers were pinned down.

  When Viola flew off a short distance, leaving the ship in flames and the crew in chaos, Stephano gave the signal for the dragon brothers to take over. The smoke from the burning ship provided cover for Hroal and Droal. Hroal sank his claws into the hull and Droal unleashed a blast of fire that destroyed the green beam weapon, then latched on to the forecastle.

  The brothers had served in the quartermaster corps for most of their naval career and had often had to keep damaged ships afloat until they could safely land. They had pushed supply barges and hauled away wrecks. The two massive dragons, wings pumping and tails lashing, expertly maneuvered the burning ship in the direction of the temple.

  Stephano ordered Viola to fly over the damaged ship’s large balloons. She swept along the port side and using her claws, she ripped small holes in a few of the chambers of each of the balloons. Stephano wanted to scuttle the ship, but he needed it to stay afloat long enough to reach the temple.

  He was about to make another pass when he heard a voice shouting his name.

  “Stephano!” the man called urgently. “Look to the west!”

  Stephano turned, startled, his hand on his pistol. The only other human member of the Brigade was Dag and he was far off, in the thick of the battle.

  A dragon rider was flying alongside him, on his left flank, and now the unknown rider raised the visor of his helm. Stephano opened his mouth, but he had no breath to speak. He could only stare, in disbelief at the shadowy figure. The dragon rider was his father.

  Julian de Guichen looked grim. He pointed urgently. “To the west, Stephano! Look to the west!”

  Shaken and wondering, Stephano tore his gaze from his father and looked in the direction he had indicated. He saw, to his shock and dismay, one of the enemy ships had managed to escape and was sailing away from the battle. The ship flew a blood-red flag different from those on the other ships. He had no idea what that meant or who was captaining that vessel, but the intent was obvious. The ship was sailing straight for the fortress.

  Stephano looked back at his father. He wanted to thank him. He wanted to tell him so much …

  His father wasn’t there.

  “Of course, he isn’t there! Good God. Now I’m seeing ghosts!” Stephano muttered.

  Yet the ship Julian de Guichen had pointed out was most certainly there.

  Stephano could not take time to wonder. He gazed grimly at the ship heading toward the fortress, and tried to think what to do. Not fearing an attack, he had left the fortress only lightly manned. His men could hold out, but for how long? Dag and the other dragons were fighting their own battles, too far away to help.

  He could not go himself. Not now. His task was to destroy the temple, stop the drumming that was wreaking havoc on humans and dragons the world over.

  The boom of cannon fire caught Stephano’s attention. A warship that seemed to have come out of nowhere was firing her guns at him and the dragons. The ship was a small Travian frigate, maybe eighteen guns, and from the sound, no bigger than nine pounders. Stephano could only watch as each gun belched fire and iron. Normally he would not worry about such small cannonballs hurting a dragon, whose scales were tough as steel plating. Unfortunately Hroal was still missing scales from wounds received in the battle at Westfirth.

  The warship was only three hundred yards away, a relatively easy shot for a trained gun crew. An effectively fired broadside aimed right at the dragons could have killed or seriously maimed both of them. This crew was not trained, however. The cannons we
re firing sporadically as they came to bear and thus far they had missed the dragons and hit the merchant ship, tearing through the rigging, and knocking holes in the hull.

  Stephano briefly considered flying over to attack the warship, at least to put an end to the cannon fire, but he discarded the idea. He and Viola still had work to do with the balloons, because while the ship was sinking, its rate of descent wasn’t fast enough. And down on the deck below, the captain was urging his men to attack.

  This time, the cannon shot hit its mark. Hroal’s body shuddered as three cannon balls smashed into his wounded flank, causing him to momentarily lose his hold on the ship. Droal roared a question, asking his brother how he was. From the dragon’s angle, he could not see the extent of the injuries.

  “I’m fine!” Hroal roared back. “Keep pushing!”

  Droal nodded. “Together, brother!”

  Stephano guided Viola past Hroal and saw that blood ran from the dragon’s side. The impact of the cannonballs had blasted apart flesh and muscle, exposing the bone. Hroal managed a grin that was meant to be reassuring, but Stephano could see blood on the dragon’s teeth, and his breathing was labored.

  They were gradually increasing the distance between themselves and the warship, but he feared they weren’t traveling fast enough. Inept though the gun crews might be, they were once again running out the cannons. He dared not leave to try to stop them; they were too close to the temple. He looked about to see if he could signal one of the other dragons.

  Viola must have been thinking along the same lines, for catching sight of Petard, she let out a deafening roar that got his attention. The young dragon turned his head, saw the cannons and understood their danger. Stephano blessed those afternoons of telling the wild dragons stories of the Dragon Brigade, describing their battles. Petard had never been in this situation, but he had heard the tales.