The Seven Signs: Three Book Collection

by D. W. Hawkins

  “Artifact?” Alton asked, but then he stopped himself, and looked at Dormael in sudden realization. “This artifact—it's what you spoke of before, what led you to Shawna.”

  Shawna grimaced, cursing herself for being unconscious for so long. These men already knew more about the motivations of her enemies than she did, and had obviously been conspiring with her cousin while she lay in recovery. She knew that she should be grateful, and she was, but she couldn't help feeling angry that her family's secrets had been laid bare before she'd been able to even open her eyes.

  Allies or not, they were strangers, and she resented the way they'd taken charge of the situation. Now she felt as if she was being pulled along by events instead of controlling them, and that rankled somewhere deep in her being. This was her responsibility, her burden to bear, and these men were all speaking about her as if she was a simpering little girl who needed saving. Part of her wished she could whip out her swords and show them the folly of their positions, but she knew that was just her anger talking.

  Dormael saw her face and seemed to register the way she was feeling. She quickly schooled her features to noble serenity, and hid the anger deep in her chest. Alienating the only allies she had wouldn't be the smart thing to do, and Shawna knew she needed the help, though she resented the fact.

  Dormael softened his expression and spoke to her instead of over her, for once. “The night that I found you, I could feel something with my magic. It led me outside the city, where I found you on the road.”

  “It led you to me?” she asked.

  “In a way,” he nodded. “It's hard to explain.”

  “Try,” she replied.

  “Magic has...a certain feeling to those of us who can wield it,” he began. “It's like a song, like music that no one can hear but wizards. Sometimes you can feel a resonance with certain things, like infused items—magical items, I mean—and the night I found you, my magic came awake on its own. It pulled at me until I gave in, and let it lead me down the road.”

  “And it led you in my direction,” she nodded, trying to understand what the Sevenlander meant.

  “Even so, Lady Baroness,” he nodded. “You were...well, you know what condition you were in. I could feel this...artifact...of yours screaming at me in my magical senses the entire time. At first I wasn't sure if it was you that was causing it, or something in your possession, but I wasn't going to just leave you there to bleed out.”

  Shawna regarded him with narrowed eyes. So, the man had helped her not out of some sense of noble character, but an interest in her mother's armlet. For a moment she considered giving the damned thing to the wizard and having done with it—after all, it was certainly something beyond her understanding. Who better to examine and guard the thing than a Wizard of the Conclave?

  The sentiment passed quickly, however. The armlet was her responsibility, no matter how dangerous or magical it was. Her father would scream from the Void if she simply passed it to someone else for safekeeping and let them go on their way. She felt certain that doing so wouldn't spare her from the attentions of the Galanians, anyway. Regardless of what they wanted, she was the only witness to the attack on her family's barony—her barony, she reminded herself angrily. Passing the thing along may keep it from the clutches of the emperor, but it would not save her life.

  “I was unconscious,” she said to him, “dying. You could have robbed me blind and ran away with it. Is this...cultural aversion to theft what kept you from doing so?”

  Dormael shrugged, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. “Maybe. When I saw you...well, it was obvious that you had fought your way clear of something. I just wasn't going to leave you there, that's all. You were obviously remarkable, even without the magic leading me to you.”

  “Oh?” she asked, unsure of how to take that remark.

  “Female Blademasters are rare enough,” he shrugged, though she saw something else in his expression. She remembered the way he'd ran his eyes over her body, and suspected his intentions weren't entirely noble in that regard. Still, now that he was under her scrutiny, he was acting almost like an adolescent boy confronted with stealing sweets.

  It would have been endearing, if not for the way he'd ogled her earlier.

  D'Jenn sighed and rolled his eyes at Dormael. “My cousin, noble as a lion shitting in a bed of roses.” Dormael shot an irritated glance at D'Jenn, but the blue-eyed man ignored him. “This just means that we need to move as quickly as possible. Lady Shawna, we need to get you out of the city.”

  Shawna sighed and nodded. “Yes. I need to get to Arla, try to get an audience with the king.”

  “That was my idea as well,” Alton nodded, “but our new friends here don't think it's far enough.”

  “Not far enough?” Shawna said. “And where would you have me go, if not to the one man in Cambrell with enough power to see justice done?”

  “I don't think the king can do much to help you,” D'Jenn said.

  Shawna couldn't stop herself from chuckling. “Oh no?”

  “Hear them out, cousin,” Alton said. “In this, they are speaking sense.”

  Shawna gave Alton an angry look, but sighed in resignation. “Very well. Go on.”

  “For one, we know that Emperor Dargorin was willing to commit an act of war to get his hands on your artifact,” Dormael said. “He obviously has little regard for Cambrellian laws, and has shown his ability to subvert people to his side. He's got the largest military force on the continent, probably more gold than anyone in Alderak, and he wants what you have very much.”

  “These are all obvious things,” Shawna said.

  “Yes, but think it through, Lady Baroness,” D'Jenn said. “Let's say you go to the king, you make your case, and he offers you his protection. That will be fine right up until he starts getting letters from the Galanian emperor. I don't know what sort of man the King of Cambrell is, but I do know that he has more than you to worry about. If the Empire starts making noise about moving an army onto Cambrellian soil, what recourse would your king have?”

  Shawna tried to follow the Sevenlander's logic. “If the Empire threatens invasion...well, I guess that would mean war.”

  “Right,” Dormael nodded. “Cambrell is a prosperous country. No offense, Lady, but your armies haven't seen combat in a very long time. Every soldier under the king's command is untested, and it's unarguable that Galania has the advantage of arms. The Galanians have been warring on everyone around them for years, now. They have the combined might of three nations behind them.”

  Shawna grimaced. She wasn't stupid by any stretch, and she could see where they were going with their arguments. Now that she began to think it through, her plan sounded more rash than anything else.

  “He won't sacrifice the thousands that will die in a war, not to mention the peace we've seen for so long, simply for one minor baroness,” she said, the words tasting like ashes in her mouth. “He will give me up to the Empire rather than go to war.”

  “Just so,” Alton nodded, “as much as it pains me to agree.”

  “What's more, the Red Swords are spinning some tale about you being a criminal,” Dormael said. “Dargorin will write to the king, demanding your extradition. If he refuses, Dargorin can offer him gold, titles, a political alliance, or any sort of treaty—perhaps even to protect his borders.”

  “Everyone in Alderak is afraid of going to war with the Empire at the moment,” Alton nodded. “Keeping the borders of Cambrell inviolate, even for a short time, would be a powerful motivation to give you up.”

  “The borders have already been violated!” she snapped, regretting the comment as soon as it passed her lips. Alton rocked back from her with a pained expression on his face, and Shawna felt like a fool for her outburst. “I'm sorry, Alton. It's just...”

  “I know, cousin,” he said. “No need for apologies.”

  “As horrible as this is,” Dormael said, “Dargorin holds all the advantage in this game. We're on our own as long as
we stay in Cambrell.”

  Shawna felt the crushing weight of it all on her shoulders, and for a moment, she felt quivering emotion well up in her chest. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream at the gods in frustration. She wanted to put her swords through every Galanian she could find.

  “What am I to do, then?” she asked. “If not the king, then who can help?”

  “We are not entirely without options,” Alton said, but she could hear a grim reluctance in his tone.

  “There is one place on Eldath that even the Galanian Empire would fear to tread,” D'Jenn said.

  “Where?” Shawna asked.

  “Ishamael,” Dormael said. “We can take you to the Conclave.”

  Shawna's insides went cold at the very thought of the Conclave. All her life she had heard lich tales about wizards. She didn't believe most of them, and figured they were just old legends. After all, no one in her family's household had ever even seen a sorcerer, much less spoken to one. As a child, though, her father's maids had regaled her with tales of Sevenlanders trafficking with evil spirits, sacrificing children on stone altars to Eindor, their bloodthirsty god. Some people in Alderak believed that every time a sorcerer used his fell power, a baby died somewhere in Eldath.

  She wasn't sure if she believed that, but the thought of traveling to the oldest bastion of magic in the world filled her with a nameless fear. The only place in Alderak to tolerate magic was Lesmira, which bordered Cambrell to the northeast. The Lesmirans had signed some treaty with the Sevenlands many generations back, and had built the Lesmiran School of Magic in Tauravon. Most people avoided sorcerers in Cambrell—if not openly hunted them, as was done in other kingdoms.

  “The Conclave?” she repeated, hearing the unintended disbelief coming out in her tone. “Why would I travel so far from my home? How am I to reclaim it from half a world away?” She left the rest unsaid—that going anywhere with the two wizards, especially to the center of their power, made her more than uncomfortable.

  “Hear us out,” D'Jenn said, holding up a placating hand. “What we need to do now is prioritize. Your home is gone—I'm sorry, but it's the truth. There will be no reclaiming it without first dealing with the immediate threat.”

  “The Galanians,” Dormael nodded.

  “And with the Empire painting you for a criminal, what are the odds that anyone other than the people in this room will help you?” D'Jenn asked.

  “D'Jenn,” Dormael said in an admonishing tone, but the blue-eyed sorcerer held up a hand to cut him off.

  “No, Dormael, she needs to hear it,” D'Jenn growled. “You're a pariah, Lady Baroness. If you run to the king, the Empire will find you. If you run to Lesmira, you're still within its reach. You've no major political allies, no fighting men, and no marks to your name—in fact, all you have is your name, and we can bet the Galanians are hard at work smearing it.”

  “You think I don't realize that?” Shawna spat. “You weren't the one who just saw their entire life go up in flames, so don't tell me what I've lost!”

  “I'm not trying to parade your tragedy before you, but you need to listen,” D'Jenn said, ignoring her anger. If he was taken aback by her vociferous tone, he didn't show it. “If you want your revenge—and judging from your expression, you do—then there is a way to see it done. The first thing you have to do is get far away from the reach of the Empire, and there's only a few places you could go. Only one of them has the power to protect you, and this artifact that you're carrying.”

  “Which is the other piece of this puzzle,” Dormael cut in, trying to head off the confrontation before it could continue. Shawna turned her eyes to Dormael, who held up his hands for peace. “Dargorin wants your artifact, whatever it is. If he wants it, that means that it must hold some purpose that he feels he can bend to his own, and I think we all know what that purpose is.”

  “Conquest,” Alton nodded. Shawna shot him an angry glare, but he pretended not to see it.

  “I don't know what it is you carry, but I do know that it's powerful,” Dormael went on. “I could tell that much the night I found you, and in the days since I've only become more convinced of it. You cannot allow him to get his hands on it, or I suspect many more will die the way your family did.”

  “You're a bastard,” Shawna muttered. “Both of you are bastards.”

  “Maybe,” Dormael sighed, “but we're not wrong.”

  Silence hung over the room like a wet blanket as Shawna considered their words. She tried to consider all the angles. The Galanian Empire lay to the south, Lesmira to the east, and nothing but the freezing steppe of Dannon, with its screaming barbarians, to the north. As long as she stayed in Alderak, Dargorin could send more and more men after her. She might escape them for a time, but she knew that if she chose to take up this fight alone, she wouldn't get very far.

  “How will going to the Conclave help me?” she finally asked.

  “It's the only place on Eldath where you can find help,” D'Jenn said. “The Conclave doesn't want dangerous magical items in the wrong hands—in fact, we make it our business to ensure that doesn't happen. Dargorin can't touch you there, and he certainly wouldn't risk an attack on the Conclave.”

  “No one would risk getting near the Conclave,” Alton muttered. At a glance from D'Jenn, he shrugged. “It's just the truth, don't look at me that way.”

  “Lady Shawna,” Dormael said, “I know you want justice. I understand that, believe me. But the first move after an attack such as the one you've suffered is to get clear and regroup. You need perspective, and you need time to heal. Come with us, and you will have at least that.”

  “And what if healing isn't what I want?” she shot back. “What if it's blood that I want?”

  “Then the best thing to do is to choose your own battleground, not to have it chosen for you. As long as you're here, you're at the mercy of your enemies,” D'Jenn said. “In Ishamael you'll have some of the most powerful people in Eldath listening to your story, and none of them in the pocket of Imperial Galania. That's more than you'll probably get anywhere else.”

  Shawna eyed the man for a tense moment, going over her options in her head. As much as she hated the fact, he was probably right. She had thought she would be safe in Ferolan, but instead she had learned that the duke had rolled over to the Empire without a second thought. The Red Swords were already here, already hunting her. The other free kingdoms in Alderak were all terrified of the Galanians, and there weren't many places left to run. Squaring her shoulders, she struggled up from the bed a second time and looked D'Jenn in the eyes.

  “Very well,” she said. “I'll come with you. But I'm not surrendering myself, or my artifact, to you.”

  “We would never ask you to do such a thing,” Dormael said. She turned her gaze on him, and he smiled. “You can leave whenever you wish. We're allies.”

  Shawna thought that remained to be seen, but she kept her misgivings to herself.

  “I'm happy we've made the decision,” D'Jenn said, though his expression didn't look happy in the least. “Now that it's out of the way, can we have a look at your...artifact?”

  “Why?” Shawna asked, feeling an irrational surge of jealousy.

  “So we can figure out what it is, what it does,” D'Jenn replied, never taking his eyes from hers. “Obviously.”

  If her side hadn't been hurting like fire, she would have slapped him. As it was, though, she was exhausted from the exchange, and all she could think about was getting the lot of them out of her room so she could go back to her thoughts. She was hungry, tired, and in pain.

  “It's in my saddlebags,” she grunted. “Alton, could you grab them for me?”

  “No need,” D'Jenn smiled. He threw his hand out toward the armoire that stood near her bed, still keeping his eyes locked to hers. The two wooden doors on the front of the thing burst open, and her saddlebags floated out into the room. Shawna shied away from them, but did her best not to show any fear of the magic to the smug sorcerer. The saddlebags
moved across the room and fell on the bed in a neat little pile.

  Shawna gave D'Jenn an irritated glance and turned back to the bed, moving stiffly as she sat. She glanced in Dormael's direction, mostly to make sure the Sevenlander wasn't running his eyes over her legs again, but the man appeared transfixed by her belongings. Shaking her head, she reached into the bags, rummaged around for a moment, and came out with the small, silver box.

  She lifted it and thumbed the small catch that held it closed. Shawna couldn't help but feel a bit of apprehension as she reached inside and grasped the sinuous twists of the silver armlet. The ruby gleamed as she brought it out into the room, and Shawna fancied that she could see something deep inside the gem, like glimmering patterns of light.

  “It belonged to my mother,” she said as she turned toward the men in the room. “It was a gift from the king, given to her on the day she wed my father.”

  “It looks such a small thing,” Alton said as he narrowed his eyes at it, “for all of the trouble it's caused.”

  “It's no...small thing,” D'Jenn muttered.

  Shawna turned her eyes to the two wizards. D'Jenn was staring intently at the armlet, reaching one of his hands out in an unconscious gesture. She wondered—not without a bit of dread—if he was using his magic, and then tried to get used to the idea. If she was going to be traveling with these two, magic was something with which she would need to grow more comfortable.

  Dormael, though, stood as if in a trance. His eyes were brighter than normal, focused, but his body swayed on his feet, and his expression was going slack. Shawna narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what in the Six Hells was happening, but then D'Jenn suddenly started back from the man and focused on him. It took Shawna a bare moment to see what was happening.

  Dormael’s clothing was smoldering. It looked as if someone had draped the clothes over a warm fire to bake the wet out, only Dormael was still wearing them. She wondered for a moment if it was something he had meant to do, some trick of sorcery with which she was unfamiliar. The light in the room flickered and grew by degrees, and she found herself sweating. Turning her eyes to the fire, she saw that it was roaring higher than it had been before.