The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs)

by D. W. Hawkins

  “Well, what about this Mekai that you speak of, where does he come in?” Shawna asked, a little confused by his explanation.

  “The Mekai,” D’Jenn stepped in, “is simply an advisor, if a well respected and powerful one. The Mekai is the leader of the Conclave, as we explained once before, but his words carry weight with the Kansils and with the people. To be a wizard is a much honored profession where we come from, and he is the most respected wizard.

  “However, the Mekai is not allowed to make decisions regarding the government of the Sevenlands. There are laws against any wizard holding a position of power in the government, and for good reason. We live in a different world, my dear, and a wizard who leads a nation is a dangerous thing, indeed. No wizard, even the Mekai, can become a Patron, Clan Leader, or Kansil.”

  “I see,” Shawna said, and nodded as his point sank in. The three sat around the fire for a little while longer before D’Jenn finally rose and bid the other two a goodnight. Shawna sat with Dormael for a while, gazing into the fire in silence, but after a few minutes she sought her blankets as well. Dormael was enjoying the warmth of the fire, and he slid onto the ground to rest his back on the smooth rock and laced his fingers together. He thought of home as he closed his eyes for a moment and yawned deeply.

  ****

  He was surrounded by a roaring fire, a furnace of forever that burned with endless heat, though he was not singed at all. He looked down to hands, expecting to see burning bits of flesh dripping from them, but they were whole and healthy. His boots and the rest of his garments were whole as well, and though the thunderous blaze roared around him, he was not touched.

  Suddenly his garments disappeared, and he was standing naked to the flames. He made to cover himself, but realized suddenly that no one was there to see him. There was nothing but him and the fire. He felt something warm writhe around his right arm slowly, as if a heated snake were wrapping itself around his arm. He started in surprise and looked down upon his tattooed appendage.

  Shawna’s armlet was there, only it was changed. The ruby was blazing as bright as the sun, and something alien swirled inside the light. The armlet was growing, sprouting new vines of silver as if it were a choke-vine climbing the walls of a castle; only it was wrapping itself around his arm. The piece of jewelry grew until it encased his entire upper arm and shoulder in weaving, sinuous bands of warm metal. Dormael watched it happen in horrified wonder, unable to stop it.

  There was singing somewhere, but not singing of voices, he realized. It was his magic. His magic was singing to the armlet, and the armlet was singing back. The two entities harmonized with each other, and the ringing feedback filled Dormael with a blazing warmth. His inner fire matched that of the thundering blaze around him, and he was one with it. He was the fire.

  Shawna appeared suddenly, crying vengeance with her raised voice, screaming revenge against the Red Swords and begging Dormael to help her. Her voice reverberated within the blaze, making it sound as if she was far away from him, though she stood right before him. Suddenly the woolen garments she was wearing burned away, and she was naked, though she didn’t take any notice. She screamed at the top of her lungs, and the fire engulfed her slender form. She was gone.

  D’Jenn was there now, telling Dormael that he was smoking. Dormael, you’re…smoking, his voice beckoned from far away. D’Jenn was reaching out to him, reaching for his hand, trying to help him. Only, Dormael couldn’t touch him. Somehow he knew that if he touched D’Jenn’s hand that it would end badly. All at once the flames engulfed D’Jenn, only D’Jenn didn’t disappear as Shawna had.

  Dormael watched in detached horror as his cousin burned alive. The fire climbed his body, singing his long hair and beard. D’Jenn writhed in agony, his flesh charring, his eyes boiling from his sockets like melted butter. He screamed, reached out for Dormael. Dormael reached out with his own hand toward him, trying to help, and the movement seemed to take a lifetime.

  Their hands met across a swirling vortex of flame that descended into oblivion. As their hands clenched, Dormael felt the fire singe his fingers. D’Jenn’s body came apart in his hands and he was swept away in the vortex as Dormael began to burn. He felt the pain, the pure agony of his skin simmering, his marrow boiling, his gums melting into his mouth. As he took a breath to scream his last, the fire followed the air into his lungs.

  The world exploded around him.

  ****

  Dormael awoke like a man drowning, clawing at the air and gasping for it, coughing and retching at the feeling of the dream and the fire that had rushed into his body. He reached to his right arm reflexively, but the armlet wasn’t there. Relieved, he sat back against the rock where he had dozed off and took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his brow. As he opened his eyes, his dread began anew.

  The campfire was a pillar of flame, a large, flaming arm that was reaching for the night sky. It spun slowly from the pit, revolving surreally like a carousel made of fire, its top reaching to the canopy of the ancient oak trees, but not burning them. Waves of heat seemed to dance from the fire, disappearing into the cool night air around him. Dormael watched it spin hypnotically, transfixed.

  All of a sudden he realized that the singing harmony he had heard in his dream hadn’t been in his dream at all. His magic was alive and coursing through him, emitting a song of exultation. And there, just beyond the magic that he could feel, the energy he knew like a brother – was another song.

  Its voice was…different, alien. He’d heard this voice once before, when he had touched Shawna’s armlet back at Alton’s manor. But that had been nothing compared to the singing he heard now. It was like his own magic and the other song were weaving in and out of each other, dancing and singing to each other, communicating in some way that Dormael didn’t quite understand. It was as if an orchestra played inside his mind, but his actual ears heard nothing. The clearing was silent.

  He tried to put his magic to rest, but it…resisted him. It was like reaching from the bottom of a waterfall to touch the top, having to battle the falling water the whole way. Slowly he wrested control back, and he put his magic to sleep. It went, but it left him with a feeling of…regret?

  The other song was still there, floating through the night and slowly ebbing and eddying, as if it were searching. Then he felt it…brush…his mind. It touched him, almost gingerly, and Dormael had the distinct impression that it was greeting him in some way. A flood of images and feelings came into his mind, and Dormael had to go to one knee or collapse.

  The stars spun in his eyes and he was falling, falling towards a bluish—The sun blazed into the Void, sending waves of fire spinning, ever—Armies burned, men screamed in—A man reached out his hand, touching him reverently and—Sadness, great and long sadness gripped him, he wanted—

  Dormael gasped with each image, his head exploding in a thousand bright needles as they changed from one jumbled feeling to another. He gripped his eyes, trying to stem the flood of empathic messages. Looking over towards the bedrolls, he saw Bethany there, gazing up at the pillar with tears running down her little face. She jumped with each message, and Dormael knew that she was getting them, too. He reached out for her, tried to crawl to her, but with each movement another image slammed into his consciousness.

  His hand was almost to her, and she had seen him reaching. She reached out to him as well, the tears still running down her face. He was almost there, his fingers touched hers. In his mind he saw D’Jenn burning alive, remembering the dream. As he touched her hand, the world around him descended into blackness.

  ****

  “Dormael…cousin…Dormael,” D’Jenn’s voice called, ringing from the blackness in vague sheets of sound. He could feel hands shaking him, touching his body that lay…somewhere. He wasn’t sure. It seemed that all of it was happening to someone else. The darkness encased him, warming him, keeping him safe. It was like floating in a warm pool of water. It was like floating in death.

  He heard the sound of a yo
ung girl sobbing. Bethany! But she was far away now, somewhere near his body. She was somewhere above the surface of the black. She was hurting, crying, I have to get to her! The words came as mind-bending flashes of pain, Bethany’s tear-streaked face staring up at the fire frozen in his mind. His consciousness whirled, spinning queasily as he reached for his thoughts.

  They scattered like marbles on a stone floor, ever escaping him no matter how many times he tried. He tried to move, to…swim…to the surface of this darkness, but he had no form, no body. He reached for the magic and could feel it, but it was faint, as a sound heard through a wall was faint. He held on to it though, held on to it for dear life. He held on to it for his sanity.

  He filled himself with it, pulled more and more in until he should have been burning with it, but it was not so. He could vaguely feel the power, the pure, pulsing power, but again it was muted. He gripped the magic as if it were a rope to lead him home, and slowly began to pull his way to the surface.

  With a snap he came awake. D’Jenn and Shawna were leaning over him, Shawna with a worried expression on her face and D’Jenn with an intent one. The sky overhead was the light blue of dawn, and the stars were faint in the sky. Dormael rose to a sitting position and Shawna gasped and put her hand on his shoulder to steady him, but Dormael was already up. D’Jenn said nothing.

  Bethany was sitting on the ground with her knees drawn to her chest, sobbing into them with her head bowed and her eyes closed.

  “Bethany!” he exclaimed, and upon seeing him awake, the young girl ran to him and threw her arms around his neck and cried in earnest. He was a bit startled, but there was nothing for it but to embrace the youngling and comfort her sobs. He looked to D’Jenn and Shawna and the both of them looked surprised and confused, but neither uttered a word. Dormael pried Bethany’s arms back and pulled her up to look at her face.

  “Did it show you things, too? Did it talk to you?” Dormael asked softly. Bethany nodded in response, and D’Jenn gave a start at the question and began looking around the campsite. Dormael would explain to him in a moment.

  “Did it hurt you, child?” Dormael queried.

  “It didn’t mean to, but it hurt anyway. I thought it killed you,” she lamented, and with that she broke into fresh sobs. Dormael just hugged her and let her cry. He picked her up and turned to D’Jenn, who was pacing around the camp, looking for tracks and evidence of what could have happened.

  “Be easy, coz, nothing came here in the night,” Dormael called to him.

  “What do you mean, Dormael? What in the Six Hells happened here last night? I woke this morning to find you face-down in the dirt, and Bethany the same way. Your arms were outstretched and just only touching…as if…as if you had fainted or collapsed that way,” D’Jenn replied, half asking and half explaining, “And then, there’s this.”

  D’Jenn pointed down to the fire pit. The iron grill that had once been there was burned through; a hole completely melted away in the center and the rest of it twisted with heat. It looked as if someone had placed a dollop of hot lava on it, and it had melted through. Dormael’s eyebrows climbed his forehead; he hadn’t expected that.

  “It was Shawna’s armlet,” he began, and D’Jenn’s face took on a look of surprised understanding. Shawna’s hand went to her mouth and D’Jenn’s went to his goatee. Dormael stood in silence for a few moments, and the only sound was Bethany’s sobs against his shoulder.

  “Pull it out,” D’Jenn commanded quietly, and Shawna jumped at the sound of his voice. She rushed to her saddlebags and rummaged around for a few seconds, and then came out with the small silver box. Dormael tensed himself for what, he didn’t know, but he tensed nonetheless. When he looked over at Shawna again, she was gingerly holding the silver armlet. Dormael had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  They all stood there for a moment, waiting perhaps for something grand or terrible to happen. When it didn’t, D’Jenn strode purposefully over to Shawna and took the armlet into his hands. He stood for a moment gazing into the ruby, but Dormael didn’t hear the strange song or feel the prickly feeling that would tell him D’Jenn was using magic.

  “Whatever happened, it isn’t happening now,” D’Jenn declared, “I’m tempted to touch it with my magic, but...we don’t know what would happen, do we?” D’Jenn looked askance to his cousin, and Dormael set Bethany down on the ground and wiped her tears before continuing. The girl took a deep breath and forced her emotions under control. She glanced fearfully to the armlet and then to Dormael, who patted her on the shoulder and told her everything would be fine. Then, he walked over to where D’Jenn stood with the armlet.

  “It…started with a dream,” Dormael began, “I think that I dozed off by the fire, just there. I was surrounded by flames, Hells, the whole world was flames. I was wearing the armlet, but it was different…it was wrapped around my entire arm, all the way to my shoulder. It sort of…grew like a vine or something. I saw the both of you,” he nodded to D’Jenn and Shawna, “and you, Shawna, just disappeared. D’Jenn, though…D’Jenn, you burned alive. It was very vivid. I tried to reach you, to help you, and then I was burning, too. I could…I could feel it, as if it were really happening.

  “When I woke, the fire in the pit was fifty hands high, and it was turning like a top. But it wasn’t…I don’t really know how to explain it…it just wasn’t burning like fire burns. My magic was awake and singing to it, as before, only this time it was louder and…the song, D’Jenn. You should have heard its voice. It felt like nothing I’ve ever experienced before…I don’t know how else to explain it.

  “When I forced my magic to rest, the other power remained this time. It sort of touched me…it brushed me as if…as if it were being careful at first. Once it had a connection, though, it sent me messages, pictures in my head and feelings…it was just too much. It was like being in a waterfall, only the water is memories and thoughts. I just couldn’t take it all in. I think it touched Bethany, too; though I don’t know why or how. I saw her there, and I tried to make it to her, to help her and…well you know the rest.”

  “Did it try and hurt you?” D’Jenn asked, “Did you feel…threatened?”

  “No, actually…it sort of felt like it was…saying hello,” Dormael answered slowly. The two wizards stood there a moment, mulling over this new turn of events, but Shawna was growing increasingly agitated, pacing back and forth and letting out a long sigh every now and then. Finally, raising her hands in the air, she burst out.

  “What in the name of the Gods is going on here?” she exclaimed, “First, you tell me that my mother’s armlet is alive, as if that were something you hear every day. Then, you tell me that it knocks you out, with…with memories! Isn’t this getting just a little strange to anyone else? It burns a hole in iron, Dormael, iron! I, for one, certainly feel Gods damned threatened!”

  “Calm yourself, girl,” D’Jenn admonished her, “I can’t think with you pacing around and screaming.” Shawna looked offended at his words, and squared herself for a retort. Before she could let loose her words, however, a small voice sounded from behind her.

  “It isn’t mean,” Bethany said, “It’s just lonely. It only wants to talk; it’s just that talking hurts.” The heads of the three adults turned slowly in her direction, and Bethany met their inquiring stares calmly, all signs that she had been crying gone. Dormael and D’Jenn gazed at each other thoughtfully, and then D’Jenn went over and knelt down before Bethany.

  “Can you tell me anything about it, Bethany? What did it tell you?” he asked quietly. The girl screwed up her face as if she were searching for an explanation and played with her braid idly as she searched for the right answers. Slowly, she began to put words to her thoughts.

  “It…it was very sad, for a long, long time,” she stated, and D’Jenn nodded, waiting for more. Bethany tried to appease him. “It…I think…I think it came from the stars…it has seen them. It only wants to talk…but it’s hard to understand it. It talks in pictures and…fe
elings.”

  D’Jenn nodded and rose, patting the girl on the head. He took a deep breath and turned to his cousin and Shawna. Dormael waited for him to say something.

  “I think,” D’Jenn mused, “that we should put it away. Shawna, place it inside the box and set the box upon that rock over there, if you would.” Shawna moved to grant his request, and placed the armlet inside its box atop one of the sitting stones. D’Jenn looked to his cousin.

  “Remember how we shielded ourselves from it? Well, I think that we can make a stronger shield and this time we shield the armlet instead of ourselves. We’ll use the box as a focus and infuse the shield into the silver,” D’Jenn explained.

  “I hope that it’s strong enough, coz. That thing is…well, I don’t think I’ve ever felt power like that before,” Dormael replied.

  “For now, it’s all we can do. Come, let’s set up the spell, shall we?” D’Jenn beckoned to a place on one side of the stone, and Dormael moved to stand there, looking down at the small box of silver. D’Jenn stood opposite him on the other side of the stone, and the cousins opened themselves to the magic.

  Dormael’s energy sprang out like rush of water, a gust of wind, a storm of lightning. At once he was one with everything around him. He could feel the ancient energy of the oak trees, silent and strong, living now as they had been for a hundred years or more. He could feel his cousin’s energy, like a star in the Void. He reached out towards his cousin with his magic, and D’Jenn took the lead.

  D’Jenn wove their magic together, entwining it like so many strings of light and formed a globe of energy around the box. The globe became smaller and smaller, until the energy began to fuse with the silver of the small container. The wizards did this over and over again, until they were satisfied that the shield was strong enough to hold the strange energy of the armlet inside. Sighing, Dormael let his magic rest and sat down on the large rock, taking the box in hand.