The Sigil Blade

by Jeff Wilson

  “He would have fought in the battles in Nar Edor then,” Edryd said, realizing as he said it how little he knew of Seoras prior to when he had met him.

  “He did. He surrendered directly to your father in fact.”

  “He knew my father?” Edryd asked, clearly astounded by that information.

  “I would not say that he knew your father,” Irial disagreed. “It’s more like he worshipped him; but, what their relationship was, if anything at all, I don’t know. When I picture Seoras, sometimes I can see a little boy who desperately wanted to grow up to be a sigil knight.”

  Irial smiled as she spoke. It was a pleasant way for her to imagine the dark shaper. Edryd found it an impossible thing to reconcile with his own conception of the short tempered man who had been instructing him.

  “That childish part is still there. It has driven him to make a series of bad decisions, compromises made at great cost in pursuit of his goal. He is a dark man now, evil even, and very unhappy.”

  Edryd had not been expecting or asking for her opinion of Seoras as a person. What she was describing though, was consistent with what Edryd knew in a very direct way from the link he shared with Seoras.

  “He isn’t intentionally malicious though, or needlessly cruel,” she said, softening the appraisal of the man she worked for. “If he seems frustrated, it is because he doesn’t like who he is, or the things he has done. It isn’t that he ever feels guilt or remorse, he doesn’t, but he measures himself a failure, and is a man filled by regret. I think he would find another way if he believed that he could.”

  Edryd didn’t know what she meant by this, and Irial probably didn’t know either. It was just a generalized impression that conveyed a sense of who she thought Seoras was.

  “And his connection to the draugar?” asked Edryd, trying to move the conversation back to his original question.

  “He returned to An Innis a little more than a decade after he left. The draugar began to show up in the months that followed. They were ragged and befouled creatures back then and they didn’t have any thralls.”

  By all accounts, draugar were still fairly horrific in appearance. Edryd could only wonder how bad they must have been for Irial to think they were less ragged and foul now.

  “Why did Seoras help them?” Edryd asked. He couldn’t reason out what held the shaper here.

  “People think he is a necromancer, able to command the returned. It is very much the other way around. The draugar come to him with instructions, always demanding new thralls. Bound by some agreement he made with their master, he remains here, doing whatever they require, which mainly involves training more thralls.”

  “Why do they even need human servants?” Edryd wondered.

  “The thralls help in conventional ways, such as carrying burdens and applying treatments that preserve and augment the bodies of the draugar. They also serve as human agents to do everything from hiring ships and negotiating deals to carrying out missions of their own. Basically, they do whatever their masters wish, and they do so with complete obedience. This makes it possible for the draugar to remain mostly hidden from the world.”

  “They don’t want anyone to know about them,” Edryd concluded, realizing just how crucial the thralls were to the draugar.

  “No, and to that end they travel mostly at night, avoiding contact with living things. But travelling to and from An Innis so frequently, occasionally they were seen. People began to associate them with plague victims. A few swore they recognized them as men and women that they had known in life, the specters of family members returned from death.”

  “But why would anyone recognize them? They were not anyone’s family members.”

  “Some of the creatures no longer have bodies, but they can be seen when they want to,” Irial explained. “They don’t appear as themselves. They can’t. They play tricks with the mind, and you see someone you can remember from your past. It can be someone still living, but usually they choose someone who is already dead.”

  Edryd was stunned. He had experienced what Irial was describing. Until this moment, he had not understood. Irial caught the expression on his face.

  “You have seen them before,” she said.

  “I was followed when I left Nar Edor,” Edryd confirmed. “I ended up in the hands of smugglers who I had fallen in with as a means to travel from Nar Edor without being known. They thought I was just a hired sword. A day out of Nar Edor, they decided they didn’t need my help defending their cargo, and that they would do better by selling me. I ended up bound and imprisoned in the hold of their ship.”

  “Hard to imagine how they managed that,” Irial said. “I would think that would have cost them dearly.”

  “I was drunk,” Edryd said reluctantly, “perhaps drugged as well, and feeling very sick on my first experience on a boat out on the ocean.”

  “They regretted it in the end,” Irial said. She knew some of what he was about to tell her, having made the connection to things she had learned from Logaeir, and tales spread by the survivors of the ship that had taken him captive.

  “They did,” Edryd agreed. “What they didn’t know, and what I was only vaguely aware of, was that there was a draugr on the ship with us. It had been following me for weeks and had boarded the vessel when I did. Late at night, I woke up as she was cutting my ropes.”

  “She?”

  “I saw a woman,” Edryd explained. “I barely remember my mother, but I am sure for a moment that I saw her face leaning over me. I thought it was delirium from the wine or the drugs, but someone cut my ropes.”

  Irial shifted, growing tense and anxiously waiting to learn more.

  “I killed two of my captors, and then I burnt the ship down around the heads of the rest of them.”

  “You burnt the ship down while you were still on it?” Irial asked with skepticism, even though she knew it for the truth. “You must have really wanted them all dead.”

  “I killed only four of them in the end. The rest escaped in a smaller boat that they had been towing.”

  Irial thought that she knew the rest of this story. “And you remained alone on the burnt out ship until you were rescued by Aelsian.”

  “Not alone no, the creature, I guess it must be one of the Ældisir, was there, though I could not see her. I think she must have been terrified that the ship would sink, but it held up long enough. Aelsian somehow knew that she was following me. He drew her away so that I could escape, and I ended up here.”

  “That was a dumb thing to do,” Irial complained.

  Edryd thought that she meant that Aelsian was stupid to draw the attention of the creature, but that wasn’t it.

  “You don’t go to An Innis to avoid draugar,” she said.

  “Not for any other reason either,” Edryd agreed. “It would be a dangerous place even without Seoras and the likes of Herja. I don’t understand his reasons for staying here.”

  “I don’t either but I have heard Seoras complain that his fate is not so different from that of the men he trains. Maybe he has no choice.”

  “If he is something like a thrall, then he isn’t a very good one. He seems to have chosen to protect me from his master.”

  “No doubt he does so for reasons of his own,” Irial said. “Perhaps it is that part of him that wanted to be a sigil knight. He might believe that you can somehow help him out of all of this.”

  “You could be right,” Edryd agreed. “Today, he told me of a way to defeat them.”

  “The draugar?” asked Irial.

  “He said that a sigil sword could be used to destroy them,” Edryd explained, “but I told him that it was at the bottom of the ocean between here and Nar Edor.”

  Irial’s eyes lit up at the mention of the sword. “That could be used to destroy a construct,” she said excitedly. “Please tell me you didn’t really throw it into the sea.”

  It struck Edryd yet again that he needed to read this book she had borrowed from Uleth. Irial seemed to know more
about the ancient Sigil Order than he did. Even if it was full of nonsense, a lot of people seemed to be operating under the assumptions that it held the truth.

  “Aelsian has the sword,” Edryd said, feeling troubled at revealing where it was.

  “He will surely have the good sense to bring it when he comes,” she replied.

  I won’t know what to do with it if he does, Edryd thought, worried that Aelsian would bring the weapon. Edryd wanted nothing more to do with that aberrantly willful artifact of power.

  Chapter 17

  Feyd Gerlin

  Aelsian stood beside his desk studying three scraps of paper, two of which were scrolled pieces of text carried by feathered messengers to a roost on the roof of his home on the Elduryn estate. One of those, penned by Commander Ledrin, had arrived this morning. Devoid of useful context, it read: need to meet – Edryd. The other, sent by the Ascomanni, had arrived two days ago with the message timeline accelerated three weeks – Logaeir.

  Preparations had been underway to return to the waters near An Innis before either of the messages had come, but there was an increased urgency now. Logaeir’s message he had understood. The Ascomanni attack on An Innis would now be taking place before the end of the month. The fleet navarch would not be involved in the attack, but his forces needed to be nearby as a contingency. The ships were already in place, but Aelsian needed to leave soon if he meant to be there himself.

  Edryd’s message communicated almost nothing, but it did reveal that Ledrin must now know what had happened to the heir of House Edorin as well as Aelsian’s role in it. He wasn’t certain, but Aelsian didn’t imagine that it meant that Edryd was back in Nar Edor. Edryd was most likely still on An Innis, or the message should have said otherwise.

  It was reasonable to assume that some single factor had motivated both messages. Ludin Kar’s prediction had come true. Logaeir was making use of the situation and had placed the Edorin heir in a position of terrible risk. Feeling a personal obligation, and fully appreciating his responsibility for having put Edryd under Logaeir’s influence to begin with, Aelsian could not quiet his own unease, and he resolved to leave as soon as he could.

  This made it an especially inopportune time to have received the summons from Feyd Gerlin, the Sovereign of Ossia. As outlined on the third, larger sheet of paper, delivered moments ago by hand and now crumpled into a misshapen lump near the edge of the desk, Aelsian had been commanded to leave immediately to attend a council of the Ossian Fleet. The council was comprised of Aelsian, commanding the famed Ossian First Fleet, Morven Tevair commanding the much larger Second Fleet, and Feyd Gerlin along with whichever of his advisors were currently in favor at the moment. He could expect that they would want an update on the Ascomanni.

  The timing was suspect. Aelsian wondered whether Feyd Gerlin might have a source either on the island of An Innis or in the Ascomanni encampment. A more direct explanation might be that a member of Aelsian’s staff, or one of the officers under his charge, was spying for the sovereign.

  In any case, this was not a message that Aelsian could ignore. He left his office and hurried down the hall to his simple living quarters, where he proceeded to change into a crisp cerulean formal uniform. He had dispatched Ludin Kar this morning with instructions for the crew of the Interdiction, ordering that it should be made ready to leave immediately.

  Aelsian had one remaining problem. He was debating what to do with the sigil blade. He had to take it back to Edryd, but he hadn’t been comfortable entrusting that responsibility to anyone else, except for Ludin Kar, who had refused it. As a result, the ancient weapon was stowed discreetly away in a pine crate under Aelsian’s bed, where it had continued to trouble his sleep on a nightly basis. If Aelsian left it behind, he would have to return to the estate before he could leave.

  Deciding that he needed the flexibility to go directly to his ship after the council concluded, Aelsian retrieved the sword from its place beneath his bed and belted it on at his side. Aelsian did not have a suitable sheath, so the weapon hung at an angle, blade exposed, through a banded metal throat piece that he had scavenged from a scabbard meant for a shorter sword. Having completed all preparations, Aelsian made his way towards the front of the Elduryn family estate.

  Availing himself of a carriage sent by the sovereign, Aelsian had time to anticipate numerous questions that he thought he might be asked regarding the Ascomanni, for which he prepared a series of noncommittal responses. However, as he did not know specifically why he had been summoned, he was not confident that this would do him any good.

  On his way to the sovereign’s palace, Aelsian struggled with doubts over his decision to wear the sword. It was plain and unadorned, but the unusual length and simple metallic beauty of the weapon drew attention, and he dreaded the possibility that it might inspire curious questions. Unnervingly, Aelsian felt like the weapon was pleased to be out from beneath his bed, excited at the prospect of being carried. It wants to return to Edryd, Aelsian reminded himself, thinking that he would be relieved to be rid of it.

  He was the last to arrive in the carpeted council chambers adjoining the common audience hall of Feyd Gerlin’s palace. Feyd, seated in a comfortable chair, was flanked by a silent advisor who cautiously appraised everyone in the room. Tevair, navarch for Ossia’s Second Fleet, gave Aelsian an unfriendly stare, glancing only briefly at the weapon belted at the First Fleet Navarch’s side, apparently angry at having been made to wait on the arrival of his more accomplished counterpart.

  “I hear that you have plans to travel,” Feyd began. “But I am sure you didn’t mean to go before advising on your progress.”

  Aelsian hadn’t made a secret of his plans to leave, but he hadn’t been advertising them either. It confirmed what he could reasonably have expected. He was being carefully watched by enemies and friends alike.

  “I received a message from our agent,” Aelsian confirmed. “The schedule is being moved up by three weeks.”

  “Why I wonder?” Feyd puzzled with disguised interest, speaking to no one in particular. Though the question had not been specifically directed at him, Aelsian knew that it was expected that he provide the sovereign with an accurate explanation.

  “Our agent did not say,” Aelsian answered. “I assume, though, that he judges the Ascomanni forces are sufficiently prepared. If we delay too long, there is a risk that disunity among the Ascomanni leadership could develop, which would then make the entire project impossible.”

  “No other reason than that?” Tevair interrupted.

  “You are free to offer your own speculations, Tevair,” Aelsian said. “If you think you know more than I, you should enlighten us.”

  “I have heard rumors that Aisen has taken command of the Ascomanni,” the Second Fleet Navarch said.

  Aelsian needed to be careful how he answered this question. It would be dangerous to lie to the sovereign, but it would not be safe to tell the truth either, not that he knew with any precision what that was.

  “Our agent within Ascomanni has made use of Lord Aisen’s disappearance. Posing as the Blood Prince, he has given the Ascomanni a central figure to lead the attack and better control the aftermath once they have taken the city. It may be a contributing factor in the sudden acceleration to the timeline.”

  “Did you approve this?” Feyd asked.

  “No, I was never even informed until after it had already been done,” Aelsian said.

  “You need to reign in your man,” Tevair suggested. “We can’t have him acting of his own accord.”

  “I agree,” said Feyd. “This is a risk. If Aisen should reappear, proving your man a liar…”

  Feyd’s suggestion hung in the air for a while before Aelsian responded.

  “That won’t happen.”

  “How can you possibly be sure,” Tevair argued.

  Aelsian cursed his own stupidity. He had managed to talk himself into a corner. A direct lie would eventually be exposed, putting him in a precarious position whe
n the truth ultimately did come out. He could not keep this from Feyd Gerlin, but Aelsian was not about to share it with anyone else.

  “I have information that you need to know Feyd,” Aelsian said, “but it is for your ears only.”

  Aelsian looked around the room, waiting for the others to leave.

  “You can trust Ambassador Seym,” Feyd said, meaning the advisor by his side who had so far said nothing during the meeting.

  “I am sure that I can,” Aelsian agreed, striving to sound diplomatic, “but I would like you to hear the information first before you decide whether it should be shared with Seym or Tevair. They must leave.”

  “I have the right to be here, and you have no authority to give me orders,” Tevair said to Aelsian, furious over being dismissed by his rival.

  “No, but I do,” Feyd said, his voice a command. “A certain amount of deference has always been afforded by the Second Fleet to the navarch of the First. It is a weakness, Tevair, that you cannot manage even the pretense of courtesy. You are excused with my permission. We will conclude the meeting without you.”

  “I apologize,” Tevair said quickly, his tone anything but apologetic. “But I will hear what it is that Aelsian has hidden from us.”

  “I can share this with you alone, Feyd,” Aelsian said with a firmness that made it clear he would not change his mind.

  “Both of you out,” Feyd ordered.

  The sovereign looked uneasy as his advisor, followed by the still fuming Tevair, left the room. Aelsian couldn’t blame him. History had shown that the ruler of this country had good reasons to be careful of his navarchs. Feyd had just angered one of his, and had agreed to an unwitnessed audience with the other.

  The sovereign knew though, that the best way to avoid joining Ossia’s infamous list of deposed or murdered rulers, which Feyd Gerlin had successfully managed to do now for more than two decades, was to maintain a balanced rivalry between the two powerful men who commanded Ossia’s naval forces. Measured by that goal, Feyd Gerlin had just made some considerable progress.