The Sigil Blade

by Jeff Wilson

  “I have no doubts about your ability to carry that threat through,” Logaeir said. “Either of your officers could take on any five of my men, and do so without wasting much effort. I have seen what they can do firsthand, and as for you… well, I have heard slightly less credible things, secondhand. If even half of it is true…” Logaeir said, letting his words trail off, not bothering to finish the thought. He allowed the others to complete the idea with whatever stood in each person’s imagination.

  “Considerably less than half of it is true,” Edryd clarified. He could see that Logaeir appeared to be pleased, and that was reason enough for concern and caution, and a cause for irritation.

  “You don’t need to convince me,” said Logaeir. “You are nothing like the stories that are told. It isn’t you that I need, just your reputation. Well, that and your two officers,” Logaeir said, looking towards Oren and Ruach. “They have stopped helping. It’s unacceptable.”

  Edryd reminded himself that it would do no good to get angry, but it was a feat of restraint for him to speak calmly. “Against my will, you have made me a leader within the Ascomanni,” Edryd began.

  “He has made you a captain,” Krin said, interrupting Edryd in what appeared to be an effort to be helpful. Logaeir gave his friend an angry look. This had not been information that he had wanted Krin to share. Undeterred, and with a mischievous look in his eye that betrayed his motives, which were above anything else focused upon his own immediate amusement, Krin then sought to inspire even more conflict between Edryd and Logaeir. “You are the Captain to be more precise,” he continued. “Logaeir is first under your command. Quite a few of our men are eager to follow the Blood Prince, and some of them are stupid enough to believe that Logaeir represents you. He is commanding a ship under your banners. He calls it the Retribution. Several times now, Logaeir has gone so far as to pretend to be the Blood Prince.”

  The last part, Krin had said in disbelief, expressing his inability to comprehend anyone accepting Logaeir as a convincing stand in for the Blood Prince. “I have a passing resemblance,” Logaeir said, giving Krin a punishing look. Krin laughed, enjoying his friend’s discomfort.

  “I need your officers to help me,” Logaeir said quietly when Krin’s laughter died down. It wasn’t a demand. For once it seemed he was being respectful, having been forced to do so out of necessity, with no choice but to beg for what he needed. In that moment, Logaeir seemed to Edryd more like the man he had first met and talked with alone at the bottom of the cliffside trail. It was a reminder that Logaeir could, in his better moments, be contemplative, polite, and softly persuasive. Not at all like the parody of an unscrupulous man that he played whenever there was an audience.

  “As their captain,” Edryd said, “Oren and Ruach follow only my orders.”

  “Yes, but what would it take to formalize a temporary arrangement where they will also follow mine?” Logaeir asked. He looked like he was swallowing a bitter potion, but he was clearly ready to negotiate.

  “There is nothing to discuss,” Edryd said, rejecting the suggestion out of hand. “I told you they are officers in the Sigil Corps. I cannot ask them to follow the orders of some frivolous criminal with petty dreams of conquering small islands.”

  Oren and Ruach straightened their backs in pride. Logaeir’s face darkened, his demeanor approaching the verge of an apoplectic fit. Edryd had never seen the man at a loss for words and was pleased to have affected him so, if only for a short moment. Krin seemed to be enjoying the moment as well, engaged as he was in loud expressions of uncontrolled mirth.

  “Well said,” interjected Krin, once he managed to stop laughing. “But they don’t need to take orders from Logaeir. We only need them to provide training for our men, and they can do that under your orders if you prefer. That much at least should be open for negotiation.”

  Edryd gained an immediate appreciation for Krin’s unsubtle diplomatic skills. Logaeir frowned openly at his partner. This was not what he wanted, but it might be as much as they could hope to achieve.

  “Provided we understood that these are my men, no one else’s, I will consider it,” Edryd said, “but if I am to be a captain in the Ascomanni, I think it is time I had my own crew.”

  “No one is giving you a ship,” Logaeir said defiantly. He thought he understood Edryd’s intentions, and he was not going to provide him with the means to flee An Innis. “There are none to spare.”

  Krin gave Logaeir a hard look. “Forgetting the Retribution, which you have told the rest of the Ascomanni is already his, we have at least a dozen unmanned ships, anchored in inlets near the encampment,” he said, contradicting Logaeir. “I’ll give him one of mine if that is what it takes.”

  “And will you give him some of your men as well to sail the ship?” Logaeir challenged.

  Krin looked uncertain as he considered that prospect. “That is going to be a problem,” Krin admitted. “Plenty would be willing to follow the Blood Prince, but it isn’t going to sit well with the other captains if he siphons away the best of their men.”

  “I don’t need a ship, and I don’t need any of the Ascomanni,” Edryd said, dodging the entire issue.

  The conversation stopped as the participants reacted with confusion, everyone except for Edryd and Irial who had carefully planned this ahead of time.

  “Are you going to call up a phantom crew to operate a phantom ship?” Logaeir demanded, tired of waiting for an explanation.

  “I was thinking more along the line of fresh recruits,” Edryd said. “I will need you to transport Oren and Ruach back to Nar Edor.”

  “You don’t just sail into the Citadel Harbor,” said Logaeir dismissing the request. “It is closed to everything but approved Ossian merchant vessels.”

  “Once there,” Edryd continued, ignoring Logaeir completely, “they will choose a dozen or so volunteers from amongst the soldiers of the Sigil Corps. Under my command, those men will aid the Ascomanni.”

  “It wouldn’t take but a couple of days,” said Oren, completely transparent in his enthusiasm.

  “I know of eight who would go immediately,” Ruach agreed, thinking of the remaining men under Edryd’s old command.

  “They will be my crew,” Edryd finished.

  Logaeir looked like he was choking on something.

  “We could get an escort from Aelsian’s fleet,” Krin said, countering Logaeir’s earlier argument regarding the impossibility of entering the Citadel Harbor. “It won’t be any trouble getting into the port.”

  Logaeir was once again speechless. He didn’t seem to be breathing and his face was turning a darkened shade of red. With the flat of his broad fully-spread palm, Krin gave Logaeir a short powerful thump on the back, forcing out a gasp of held air from the smaller man’s lungs.

  “Barely different from what you spoke of when you convinced me to go and recruit the Blood Prince in the first place,” Krin pointed out. “Are you going to tell me this isn’t exactly what you wanted?”

  “When someone, who doesn’t hold you in any high regard, grants all of your wishes, leveraging them upon you as though they were demanded concessions, you get suspicious,” Logaeir explained.

  Edryd understood the hesitation, and he knew that the Ascomanni strategist’s concerns went deeper than mere suspicion. Logaeir was getting more than he had dared to ask for, but imagining Edryd as a captain in the Ascomanni with a company of Sigil Corps solders under his command, gave him reasons to fear that this might all come at the cost of his control over the Ascomanni. Beyond this, he had to also be wondering what had motivated Edryd’s sudden willingness to cooperate.

  “Agreed,” Logaeir said after some thought, making new plans even as the words escaped his lips. “But understand, you are committing your men to help us as needed when we take the island.”

  “Your men will get equal shares afterwards,” Krin added. “As a captain, you will get four.”

  “We won’t need them,” Edryd declined. Everyone but Irial reac
ted with surprise. “I will, however, take Esivh Rhol’s palace and everything in it. When this is over, it belongs to the Sigil Corps.”

  “Agreed,” Logaeir said quickly, much too quickly.

  Krin thought it was a little too hasty as well. “We need to talk about this,” he complained.

  “Aisen will be the ruler of An Innis, of course the palace is going to be his,” Logaeir said.

  It was Edryd’s turn to feel uncomfortable about getting something he had asked for: the palace, offered to him now along with an unwanted encumbrance. Edryd did not intend to allow anyone to install him as the ruler of this horrible island. He didn’t need to refuse though. If Irial’s plan worked, he and Eithne would be away on one of Aelsian’s ships before that attack happened, and if Edryd could manage it, Irial would also come with them.

  “You can’t decide that,” Krin continued to protest. Esivh Rhol’s palace was too big a prize to just give away.

  “The others will agree,” Logaeir insisted. “The bulk of the wealth on the island is in the hands of the harbormasters. Once the captains understand that we are getting Sigil Warrior reinforcements, with no reduction of their shares, it will be easy to convince them.”

  “One other thing,” Edryd interrupted. “Oren and Ruach are my representatives with the Ascomanni, not you.”

  “No,” Logaeir refused.

  “They command my men, they come and go as they please, and they take orders only from me. If you need help from any of my men, you run it through Oren and Ruach.”

  “Of course he will,” Krin said, “those are the rules as they apply with any of the captains.”

  “No,” Logaeir said again, even more firmly.

  Logaeir had already positioned himself as the Blood Prince’s second in command. Denying him that was a step too far, it would deprive him of every last shred of his credibility.

  “I don’t care what you tell the rest of the Ascomanni, as long as you understand that my men do not answer to you,” Edryd said, offering a compromise.

  “I will want to arrange introductions with the captains,” Logaeir said, modifying Edryd’s offer. “When I do, you will back up what I have told them, and you will endeavor to impress them.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Edryd assented.

  “Now that is where I will have to disagree,” Krin said. “After the stories people have been telling, you need to understand that meeting you for the first time can be a disappointment. It isn’t going to impress anyone.”

  Edryd laughed at the disparaging comment. The insult had been friendly and warm, instead of filled with the condescension and disrespect that came so naturally to Logaeir, and it made Edryd feel like at least one person didn’t expect impossible things out of him. Krin was especially honest and direct for someone in his profession, and was in many ways, Logaeir’s complete opposite.

  Having brokered an understanding, tension faded from the room, under the realization of that rare circumstance where those who had participated had all gotten what they wanted. If everyone was also a little unhappy about it, then that only meant it must have been a fair exchange. There was, however, one person who was entirely unconflicted, holding no misgivings about the outcome. For Irial, the results could not have been better. Irial had been silent throughout, but Edryd had taken her advice and accomplished everything she had asked of him.

  Sensing that everything had been decided, and without waiting on anyone else, Krin carved out a choice section of the roasted pig. Others followed, and soon most of them were busily engaged with their food, bringing a welcome silence to a room that had moments ago been filled with loud arguments.

  Edryd noticed Eithne, still sitting in the same seat across from Logaeir. She had quietly listened to everything, and had now gotten a hold of the white cloth-covered book that she had been admiring. It took him a moment to accept the idea that they had just plotted the overthrow of An Innis in the presence of an eleven year old girl. No one else seemed to be bothered by it, but it made the whole scenario seem completely unreal to Edryd. He took a seat beside Eithne, more than a little curious himself about the contents of the book.

  “So what do you think of it?” he asked her. He meant her opinion of the book about the Sigil Order, but she took it to be a question about the agreements that had been reached over the course of the evening.

  “You gave Uncle Logaeir what he wanted, but I don’t know what you got in return,” she replied.

  Logaeir had turned away towards Krin, but it didn’t escape Edryd’s notice he was paying close attention to this conversation with Eithne.

  “That’s a good sign,” Edryd replied. “If you haven’t figured it out, then it will be much too hard a puzzle for him.”

  Logaeir’s face tightened, unable to stifle his reaction.

  “He thinks he is very smart, you know,” Eithne laughed. “He would be angry if he heard us.” Eithne knew very well that Logaeir was listening, and was having some fun of her own.

  The evening wore on, and soon everyone was well fed with the roasted meat and helpings of vegetables that had been harvested from Irial’s garden. Edryd chose that moment to pull Ruach aside, and leaving everyone else behind, the two men took a walk out in the night air. Something was bothering Edryd, but there was little time to work with, and so he ignored his misgivings.

  “Ruach,” Edryd said as they stood in the cold beneath a starlit sky, well away from the cottage, where no one inside could possibly overhear, “I need you to get a message to the Ossian First Fleet Navarch,”

  “Who?” Ruach asked. There wasn’t any surprise in the question, just the need to clarify who it was Edryd was speaking of. Ruach knew little to nothing about Ossia or the officers in its fleet.

  “His name is Aelsian,” Edryd replied. “His ships secure the trade between Ossia and Nar Edor.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Ruach said.

  “You don’t need to. On your way back to Nar Edor, the Ascomanni are going to have to meet up with one of Aelsian’s ships. When that happens, arrange a private meeting with the captain of the ship.”

  “And give him what message?”

  “Have him get word to Aelsian that Edryd needs to see him.”

  “Edryd?—or Lord Aisen?” Ruach questioned.

  “No, don’t use my real name. Don’t mention the Blood Prince or anything else of the sort. Aelsian will already know who I am, no one else needs to.”

  “I understand. I assume we should keep this all a secret from the Ascomanni as well,” he said.

  “Tell Oren if you get a chance, but no one else,” Edryd confirmed.

  Edryd looked around and saw nothing, but remained troubled by something he couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was that was bothering him, it was somewhere nearby, hidden by the dark. “You had better get back. I will be along in a minute,” he said to Ruach.

  Edryd watched Ruach leave, watched the light scatter out from the cottage when he opened the door, and watched it disappear again as Ruach stepped inside, shutting the door tight behind him. Edryd had now pinpointed the position of the irritant that had been disturbing his thoughts. There was someone there, close enough to have overheard the entire conversation. Edryd turned, but all he could see was darkness. It was clouded and obscured, but the hidden person had a mind with an open window through which Edryd could look.

  “Aed Seoras,” Edryd called out.

  “Well met, Lord Aisen,” Seoras said, shedding fragmented distortions as he emerged from out of the night. To Edryd’s eyes it looked as if Seoras was taking form directly from shifting flows of the dark. As the shaping ceased, the window became clear and Edryd sensed that Seoras was wracked with worry.

  “You knew all along,” Edryd said.

  “No,” Seoras admitted. “At first I had no idea. More recently I have had my suspicions, and this morning I thought that I was certain, but until I overheard you and Ruach, I can’t say that I knew for sure.”

  “What are you goin
g to do?”

  “Nothing,” Seoras answered, as though he were surprised that Edryd would ask.

  “Then why are you here?” Edryd had picked up on Seoras’s fears, but they were not so deep as his own in that moment. Seoras was a threat that he could not ignore.

  “I made a discovery this morning,” Seoras began. He spoke now as though his discovery had not come about when he had tried to kill Edryd and as if this were some ordinary conversation between friends. “Through the dark, there is hint of a deeper level to the world. You may have felt it yourself. In a fight it often manifests as a sort of intuition. If someone begins to shape the dark, it creates an echo that travels. I can detect an attuned individual from a great distance away, just by the ripples they leave in their wake.”

  “That is why you thought I could shape.”

  “It was why I was willing to believe you when you said you could not,” Seoras corrected. “In subtle ways, we all shape as we interact with the world. Some of us do have a greater affinity for it than others, but with you, I can see nothing. It is as though you don’t exist. You appear to have no connection to the dark.”

  “But that shouldn’t be possible.”

  “No it shouldn’t,” Seoras agreed. “And there is an even bigger mystery. Do you remember I showed you how a sword can be used as a focus for the dark? Well a focus doesn’t need to be a sword. In particular, a well attuned person naturally aligns the currents that flow through the dark in a way that amplifies the effects of shaping. Anyone who does this should be a beacon to anyone who can comprehend the dark.”

  Edryd felt an awful sensation in the pit of his stomach. The implication was clear. Powerless on his own, he was an awful tool in the hands of someone like Seoras, whose power multiplied in his presence. He had even more reason now to be fearful of the man’s intentions.