The Seven Signs: Three Book Collection

by D. W. Hawkins

  “You make a good point, though,” D'Jenn said. “It bothers me that we know nothing about your mother's armlet, yet Dargorin does. It could be that Dormael and I are behind on the latest events, but if he's searching out infused items, I would hope someone at the Conclave would know about it.”

  “It's new to me,” Dormael shrugged. “The last I heard about the Galanian Empire was when they attacked Old Shundov, and the slaughter that happened there. I remember because it surprised me.”

  “Why would it surprise you?” Shawna asked, an edge forming on her tone. “Dargorin obviously has no scruples where slaughter is concerned.”

  Dormael gritted his teeth. “I'm just saying that at the time, it seemed out of character. I remember the conquest of Neleka—I was there, in fact. It was civilized. At least, compared to how it could have happened.”

  “Civilized?” Shawna asked.

  “Aye,” Dormael shrugged. “They fought a few battles, sure, but the takeover went swimmingly for the Empire. There was no slaughter at Fal-Nelek, no sacking of towns, or the other types of general mayhem that accompany a war of conquest. There were a few arrests, if I remember correctly, but the Galanian emperor allowed the Nelekans to keep their state mostly intact. Any who opposed the Empire was allowed to leave. No hangings, no purges. It was the oddest thing.”

  “You sound quite impressed by them,” Shawna said.

  Dormael tried to unclench his jaw. “That's not what I mean. At the time, it was unheard of. That's why the slaughter at Shundov surprised me.”

  “What were you doing in Neleka during the Galanian invasion?” Shawna asked.

  Dormael felt an involuntary pang in his chest. “Visiting with a friend.”

  “And is your friend still impressed with the Galanians, too?” Shawna asked, showing Dormael her teeth.

  “No,” he replied. “She died during the war.”

  Dormael didn't feel like talking anymore, so he spurred Horse out ahead of the party, leaving Shawna behind.

  ***

  Shawna watched Dormael ride ahead, then turned a flat look on D'Jenn. “What was that about?”

  D'Jenn gave her a sideways glance, conveying an uncomfortable expression, and stayed silent. She kept looking at him, waiting for an explanation. Finally, with an irritated breath, he spoke.

  “Dormael had a friend in Neleka, before the invasion.”

  Shawna sighed and gritted her teeth. “You're just repeating what he said.”

  “I am.”

  “So...was she special to him, then?” she asked. It would have been hard to imagine a sorcerer taking a lover, but Dormael had been downright lecherous since she'd met him. She had also noticed his eyes tracking her from time to time, though she didn't let on that she had seen him. He didn't do it in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, and Shawna had been exposed to such things before. She had been of a suitable marrying age for quite a few springs already, and had fielded a few suitors in her time. She had long been able to tell the difference between a harmless glance and a dangerous leer.

  Dormael was a harmless flirt most of the time, but there were rare moments where an actual person peeked through the uncaring, flippant facade that he wore. She suspected that the flirtation was partly an act, though she hadn't known the man for long enough to tell. D'Jenn, on the other hand, seemed more grounded—though she could tell that her very presence irritated him. She didn't know why, but she blamed it on cultural differences.

  “He...cared about her, yes,” D'Jenn nodded.

  “So he loved her,” Shawna sighed. “At least he's almost human.”

  D'Jenn cracked the slightest of smiles. “Almost. I won't say that he loved her—or at least, I don't think he would have realized it at the time.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, you've seen how he is. He's not the type to explore his feelings and all that. But after she disappeared...well, he disappeared, too. Worried me for awhile, but I think he was looking for her. I didn't see him for an entire year, and when he came back he wouldn't speak of her. Wouldn't have me speak of her, either.”

  “What happened to her?” Shawna asked.

  D'Jenn sighed and shifted the reins in his hands. “She was a wizard. Some rare few children who have the spark come to terms with it on their own, and she was one of those. Had some cabin in the forest near the city of Fal-Nelek. I don't really know what happened to her, but I can make a few guesses.”

  “Guess, then. I'd be interested to hear them,” Shawna said, gesturing for him to go on.

  D'Jenn gave her an all-suffering glance. “Well, wars are chaos, no matter how civilized Dormael said the invasion was. Even if the fighting never reached her doorstep, things may have devolved in the region. There would have been refugees fleeing the Galanian border towns. She was living in hiding, so she might have been outed as a magic user during the chaos. A group of refugees might have come along, found her cabin, and done for her. Who knows? If Dormael ever found out, he never mentioned it to me.”

  “What was her name?” Shawna asked.

  “Inera,” D'Jenn said. “But I wouldn't mention it to Dormael.”

  Shawna nodded and the two of them returned to riding in silence. She stared at Dormael's back for awhile, wondering about the mysterious woman. Had the wizard also lost someone to the Galanians? He didn't seem to hold the same weight in his heart as did she—a burning fire in her chest, a desire for blood. Perhaps his wounds were too old to be so raw.

  It might have been hard to imagine Dormael in love with some woman, but what was harder was picturing a woman being in love with him. Surely the woman must have known his nature—that, or she had never observed the man around other women. Part of her could see why she would have found him charming, maybe interesting, but never the type in which to invest for the long term. She clenched her jaw as she remembered his eyes tracking over her bare legs, and the complete disregard for her displeasure. Some men were better kept on a leash.

  Dormael could probably benefit more from a cage—or the women around him might benefit.

  Shawna sighed and let Charlotte fall back into line. Oddly enough, she felt bad about needling the man over his lover. She was going to be sharing the road with these two for some time, and making enemies of them would serve no one. She might apologize later—he had saved her life, after all—but she could let him sulk for a little while. Perhaps a bit of anger at her would deter him from ogling her backside the next time she stretched in the morning.

  Something told her it was a small hope, though.

  ***

  Dormael spotted a likely campsite as the sun was just beginning to sink behind the horizon. Just to the east of the road was a clearing around a ready-made firepit, complete with stumps arrayed in a circle, rounded smooth on top from the weight of untold numbers of travelers. Dormael imagined it was a well-used site, probably maintained on some sort of honor system. Cambrell was an almost sickeningly civilized kingdom, so such displays of altruism didn't surprise him. Even the Baronet Keeting had displayed a care for propriety, though his prettied words had dripped acid from every syllable.

  Dormael turned Horse toward the clearing without speaking, and his companions followed. As they reined in, everyone fell to the camp preparation with quiet efficiency. Before long, Dormael found himself warming his freezing hands by a glowing fire, and puffing on his pipe as he tried to let the soreness escape from his backside. It had been too long since Dormael had spent so much time in the saddle.

  Bethany lounged with her head against his shoulder, staring into the flames. Every few minutes he would start to say something to the girl, if only to get her talking, but then stop himself as the idle words died in his mouth. He didn't have much experience with children, and he was sure that no matter what he tried to say, it would make him look the fool. So he sat and offered silent company to the girl instead. Bethany didn't seem to mind.

  As D'Jenn rummaged around in his saddlebags for the ingredients for the nigh
t's supper, Shawna came trudging over and sat across the fire from him. Dormael gave her a wan smile, but returned to staring into the flames. The ride had left him with little energy for speech.

  “I didn't mean to pry earlier,” she said, breaking his reverie. “About your lover, I mean.”

  Dormael sighed. “You weren't. It's nothing to worry about.”

  “Still...I didn't mean to make you angry,” Shawna said.

  “Say no more about it,” Dormael sighed again, holding up his hand to forestall any more words. “I'm not angry, just tired from the ride. My backside is slowly turning to cured leather.”

  “Can't you just magic that sort of thing away?” Shawna asked.

  “No,” Dormael smiled. “Healing your body with magic isn't as easy as all that. Otherwise we'd have just wiggled at our fingers at you, and no more arrow wound.”

  “I thought you were just being jerks,” Shawna said, answering his smile. “Or maybe I'd have to pay you with my firstborn son, or the blood of the innocent.”

  “I'll take the blood of the innocent any day,” D'Jenn said as he tromped over to the fire, depositing various cooking implements on the ground. “Who wants to deal with a squalling babe all day, right young one?” D'Jenn threw a mock punch at Bethany, who smiled and fended him off with playful little swats of her hands.

  “Well, my father had a cure for that. He told me about it when I was a girl,” Shawna said.

  “A cure for chapped arse?” Dormael asked.

  “Yes. We raised horses, you know. You learn all sorts of things, growing up around them,” Shawna said.

  “What's the cure?” D'Jenn asked, though a smile started to crack his dour features.

  “A tougher ass, and less whining,” Shawna smiled.

  “I told him the same thing the other day,” D'Jenn laughed. “See, cousin? Wisdom of the ages.”

  “Stunning revelations abound,” Dormael said, smiling despite the jokes being bandied about at his expense. It was good to see Shawna in a better mood, anyway. Though, Dormael thought it was funny that D'Jenn was warming so quickly to her. He remembered the tirade that D'Jenn had went on about Shawna, but now it seemed his icy shell had cracked.

  “How long is the ride to Borders from here?” D'Jenn asked.

  “Around a week or so,” Shawna replied, stirring the fire. “That's just a guess, though. I've never actually been there. No one goes to Borders if they can help it.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Dormael asked.

  “It's a hole in the coastline full of smugglers and thieves,” Shawna said. “It's a cesspool.”

  “I've been in a few cesspools in my time,” Dormael smiled. “They're not all bad.”

  “I'm sure you have been,” Shawna said.

  “What's that mean?” Dormael asked.

  “Nothing,” Shawna replied, fixing him with a flat look.

  “I think there's a village, maybe two days up the road,” D'Jenn said. “If we keep a good pace, we might make it in time for the festival.”

  “Festival?” Bethany asked. Dormael nearly jumped to hear the girl speak. Everyone else was regarding her with surprised glances, as well. It took a moment for Dormael's mind to jump back into order.

  “The Festival of Frost, dear,” Dormael clarified. “Day after tomorrow is the Winter Solstice. The Festival should last from noon on the Solstice to noon the next day.”

  Bethany cleared her throat, eyeing the rest of the companions with nervous glances. “Will there be food?”

  “There's always food at a Solstice, little one,” Shawna smiled. “Enough to fill your belly three times.”

  “Food, drink, dancing. There might even be games,” Dormael said.

  Bethany cracked a diffident smile. “Then we better make good time. Food is worth it.”

  “Our wise little leader has spoken,” D'Jenn said, shooting Bethany a wink. The girl only settled deeper into her cloak in answer, and returned to staring into the fire.

  Dormael suddenly had an idea. “Bethany, do you know how to read?”

  The girl looked up at him and shook her head.

  “Well, it's high time you learned, little one. While D'Jenn cooks, I'll teach you how to write your name. Sound good?”

  Bethany nodded.

  “Alright, then,” Dormael nodded back. He grabbed a stick and scribbled a few lines in the dirt. “This is the first letter of your name...”

  Bethany listened and piped in whenever Dormael asked her a question, and before the food was done, she was scrawling her name in the dirt with a surprising amount of dexterity. It warmed him to see her smile, though a wild look still harbored in the fringes of her expressions. He allowed her to return to silently watching the fire as she ate. Dormael huddled into his cloak and gnawed on his own food until the cold sent him to his blankets.

  The next day was completely clear, and utterly devoid of warmth.

  Dormael spent parts of the ride allowing Bethany to lead Horse, and shooting his consciousness out into the morning to do a little mind-flight. The road, which meandered near the coastline, was clear of travelers in both directions. The clear, blue sky coupled with the absence of movement made the world surreal to Dormael, as if he and his friends rode through some winter-locked wasteland with only the cold for company.

  The forest grew thicker as they made their way north. Evergreens began to pepper the area, standing out in rebellion of the season. The afternoon took on the early twilight of the deep woods, painting the road with somber colors. Something began to tickle Dormael's brain about the woods around them, but he couldn't quite place it. It took him a minute to realize that his Kai was reacting to something nearby.

  D'Jenn had already sensed it, and turned his mount from the road, toward what looked like an overgrown game trail. Dormael, taking a cue from his cousin, opened his Kai and allowed the magic to sing to him. He could feel something resonating from farther into the woods—a pleasant, harmonious sort of feeling.

  The going was slow, as the horses had trouble navigating the trail, but Dormael gasped as they broke into a clearing. A cabin sat in the largest part of the open space, though Dormael hadn't seen it from the trail. The roof had long ago fallen in, but he could tell that the decay was the natural result of time, and not from some disaster.

  Nearby was a firepit, complete with a bricked enclosure and an iron grill. Smooth stones were placed neatly around the pit, tools stacked beside them. All along the clearing were ancient trees, their limbs intertwined as if they had all agreed to shield this place from the outside. Dormael could feel the entire area vibrating with magic.

  “What is this place?” Shawna asked, breaking the warm silence. “How did you know of it?”

  “I didn't,” D'Jenn replied, staring around at the trees. “But I could feel it.”

  “Magic?” Shawna asked, a strange note entering her voice.

  “Don't worry, it won't kill you,” D'Jenn said, shooting her an evil smile.

  “What does it...what does it feel like?” Shawna asked.

  “Like a warm buzz all over your body,” D'Jenn replied.

  Bethany's eyes shot to D'Jenn, the movement startling Dormael. He thought the girl had been asleep, and he nearly fell from his saddle.

  “Warn me next time you do that,” he laughed, tousling the girl's hair.

  She fended him off, but favored him with a smile. He left off trying to irritate the girl, and started to help her down from the saddle. Shawna saw them dismounting, and regarded him with what Dormael could only describe as white-faced terror.

  “Wait—we're going to stay here?” she asked.

  “Arent we?” he asked in reply, looking to D'Jenn for support. D'Jenn only smiled and dismounted to start exploring the clearing.

  “Well...didn't you say there was magic here? That this place is...well, you know.”

  “What? Cursed?” Dormael couldn't keep a smile from sliding onto his face.

  “Why are you smiling at me like that, Dormael? I
s it safe to just sleep here, and under all that magic? What will it do to us?” Shawna asked, looking at him like he was the village idiot.

  “It won't do anything to us,” Dormael said, trying his best not to laugh. “Sometimes you can feel the intent of a thing. This place is a refuge, Shawna. Have you noticed that it's warmer in here?”

  She paused. “It is, isn't it?”

  “I promise you, this is the good kind of magic. We would be able to tell if something dangerous was going on here.”

  “I think a wizard died here,” D'Jenn said from near the cabin.

  “Because that doesn't sound dangerous,” Shawna clipped, turning a raised eyebrow to Dormael.

  “That doesn't mean his ghost is going to come screaming out of the trees,” D'Jenn said as he walked over to join them. He gave Shawna a smirk. “Or her ghost, respectively. I think a wizard lived here, died here. Protected this place in life, so his magic does so after his death.”

  “I'm still not having a good feeling about this,” Shawna said.

  “When a wizard dies, they leave a sort of imprint on a place,” Dormael said. “It's wild magic, unfocused, so most of the time there's no clear intent. Where violence is done, sometimes you would find a place that's hostile, or just...strange. Sometimes, though, other things happen. The magic in this place is welcoming.”

  “Like a warm buzz all over your body,” Bethany smiled.

  “Precisely, dear,” Dormael returned her smile, and tousled her hair again. This time she just moved her head a little. He was making progress.

  “See? Bethany's not afraid,” D'Jenn said, giving Shawna a meaningful look.

  “Very well,” Shawna sighed, dismounting awkwardly around her wounded abdomen. “But don't say I didn't warn you when the ghosts come screaming out of the trees.”

  ***

  Dormael was surrounded by darkness.

  He knew he was dreaming—lucid dreams were some of the first signs of being Blessed, and an innate ability that all wizards possessed. Something felt different this time, though. There was an odd tangibility to this dream, a vivid sense of reality that slapped his senses to attention. He centered himself, and focused on the dream.