Child of the Flames (The Seven Signs Book 1)

by D. W. Hawkins

Shawna grimaced. “And if we can’t?”

  “Then we’ll deal with that problem when it presents itself.” D’Jenn gave Dormael a nod. “Go—warn Alton. Take care of our friends on the Squidchaser and get a good lay of the land. Don’t take long, though. We need to get moving.”

  “I’ll return shortly.”

  Dormael closed his eyes and summoned his magic, turning it inward and separating his consciousness from his body. He soared upward into the night, away from the alleyway and over the crowded streets. Turning toward the cliff face, he sped toward Alton’s manor.

  He circled the manor grounds in search of soldiers, but the streets were clear. Light shone from the window of Alton’s study, which was cracked to the night. Dormael flew in through the opening and found Alton at his desk, scratching a letter by candlelight. Pouring his magic into a thought, Dormael solidified an illusion of himself standing in the room.

  “Alton.”

  Alton jumped in surprise, almost falling from his chair. He regarded Dormael with a bewildered expression and glanced around the room. He sighed and placed his quill on the desk.

  “Magic?”

  “Magic.” Dormael smiled.

  “All the gods in the Void, Dormael. A little warning the next time you decide to call on me this way would be welcome. I nearly pissed myself. What’s happening?”

  “She’s fine,” Dormael assured him, “but something is wrong. Your Captain has betrayed us to the Galanians—or we think so. We think they’re waiting in ambush.”

  “The treacherous little shit.” Alton’s expression grew dark.

  “We’ll see—I’m dealing with him next. We’re fine, we haven’t been captured. Our plan is to head north and find passage in Borders.”

  “Borders?” Alton wrinkled his nose. “There’s nothing but criminals and muddy streets in Borders.”

  “It’s our only choice. In any case, we wanted to warn you before the trap is sprung. If they know about us—”

  “They know about me.” Alton sighed.

  “The Sanctuary should keep you safe in the immediate, but you need to hunker down. If you know any fighting men you can hire out, now would be the time.”

  “None who can get here on short notice, but I’ll be fine, Dormael. Lindesholm would have a hard time explaining how he arrested one of the richest men in the city, and I’d have my day in court no matter what he did. Besides, he’d have to beat my message to the King. Go—take care of Shawna and take care of yourselves.”

  “We will, my word on it. Take care, my friend.”

  “And you, Dormael.”

  Dormael threw his mind once again into the night. He flew over the rooftops of Ferolan, headed toward the docks. The street lamps shone like beacons in the night, passing beneath him as he hurried to the harbor. Wharves poked from the main quay, like a multitude of fingers reaching toward the water. Ships were clustered in their berths, and it didn’t take long to find dock sixteen.

  The Squidchaser was a two-masted brig that looked more than a little worse for wear. She was stained with a dark finish, and a white line had been painted just under the rail. There was a single oil lamp burning on the ship and another on the wharf by a stack of crates, where a few crewmen milled about, trying to look busy. Dormael hovered over the scene, searching for anything out of place.

  There were sailors standing just out of the lamplight on deck. They appeared to be doing nothing more than loitering about. Dormael spiraled toward the ship to get a better look.

  All the crewmen were armed. There were men with crossbows on the forecastle, and others armed with cutlasses on the deck. They shot furtive glances toward the quay, where Dormael and his friends would have appeared.

  Definitely an ambush.

  Crates were stacked along the quay, lined up and ready to be loaded. A gust of wind blew in from the sea, and one of the crates wobbled. A hand reached up and steadied the crate from behind—an armored hand.

  Found you.

  Dormael climbed into the air and circled the quay for a better vantage. Armed men huddled behind the crates, some wearing the white and red surcoats of Red Swords, and some dressed in the uniforms of the City Watch. They would have pushed the crates atop Dormael and the rest as they passed and surrounded them.

  We’d have been trapped on the dock. Not a bad little ambush, truth be told.

  He wheeled around and alighted on the deck of the Squidchaser, picking a shadowed spot near the forecastle. Roldo stood near the gangplank, shooting nervous glances at every moving shadow. Dormael poured his power into another phantasm, solidifying his form in the shadows before stepping into the light.

  One of the crewmen gave a start, and Roldo’s eyes went wide. Expressions played across the man’s face—surprise, anger, uncertainty, fear. Dormael couldn’t help but smile.

  “Captain Roldo.” Dormael smiled and spread his hands wide. “Are we ready to depart?”

  “How did you get here?” Roldo’s eyes shot around the deck.

  “You made a big mistake, Roldo.”

  “What in the Six Hells are you talking about?” Roldo took a step back. The crewmen shuffled around, uncertain glances flying around the deck.

  “Don’t act the fool. You took Alton’s money and gave us up to the Earl and his new allies.” Dormael pointed to a man on the forecastle. “You have crossbows all over the deck.”

  Roldo scowled, taking another step backward. “I told you. I don’t want to be dragged off in the middle of the night. A man’s got to preserve his skin, doesn’t he?”

  Dormael shook his head. “Cowards—you’re all the same.”

  “Kill him!”

  Dormael allowed his phantasm to dissipate, flashing away from the spot where he’d been projecting his form. A few tentative twanging noises rang out, and bolts cut through the air where Dormael had disappeared. Roldo screamed another curse, whirling around and peering into the shadows.

  Solidifying himself once again, Dormael stepped from the darkness on the other end of the deck.

  “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Dormael gave him a broad, mirthless grin. “Normally I’d take a good bit of time to seek the proper redress for this sort of thing, but lucky for you, I’m in a hurry. We’ll have to settle for a little payback—for me, and for Alton.”

  Dormael concentrated on the ship, reaching down to the cured timber of the outer hull. Roldo snarled another command, but Dormael was lost in his power. Working magic at a distance was more difficult, and he had to draw more energy from the ether to get anything done. Grasping the bottom of the hull with his Kai, he yanked it inward.

  There was a violent cracking noise, followed by an ominous creaking from below. The ship rocked as Dormael pushed the hole wider. Crewmen ran in all directions, shouting and flailing about. Roldo held to the railing, staring over the side in open-mouthed horror.

  “Should’ve kept to the bargain!” Dormael made his phantasm rise into the air, holding his hands wide for dramatic effect. This shouldn’t be so much damned fun.

  The ship pitched forward and rolled to starboard, sending implements tumbling across the deck. Roldo screamed orders at his men held tight to the tilting rail. More men rushed around the quay, shouting with alarm as the Squidchaser sank. Somewhere in the harbor, a bell started pealing.

  “You!” Roldo glared at Dormael. “You did this! I’ll kill you for this!”

  “Have fun dredging her up, old boy!” Dormael snapped his fingers, sending a pulse of energy into the Squidchaser’s sailcloth. The mainsail ignited with a whoosh, bright flames rushing across the yardarm. Dormael pulled harder on the ether, his mind full of the angry melody of the fire. It crawled further into the rigging, jumping to the topsails and rushing down the shrouds until the whole rig was aflame.

  He abandoned his phantasm and his disembodied mind rose once higher into the air. The docks were alive with frantic activity as people jostled to see what was happening. Dormael looked over the crowd and spotted the Red
Swords climbing from their hiding places, staring in wonder at the burning ship.

  I figured that would flush out the insects.

  With another effort of concentration, Dormael pulled a few of the Red Swords from their feet and into the dark waters of the harbor. They slid from the dock one by one, screaming in surprised terror. The rest drew their swords and spun, searching the night for an enemy to stab. Dormael slammed the nearby crates into their startled faces and set some of them ablaze.

  That should occupy them for awhile.

  The docks were in chaos. Red Swords scrambled in every direction. Members of Ferolan’s City Watch ran up the street, calling alarms for reinforcements. Squidchaser pitched in its berth, and its foremast toppled into the water with a violent crack. Dormael rushed back through the night, leaving the harbor for the alley where he’d left his friends.

  Dormael came back to his body and fought off a wave of dizziness—using magic at such a distance was taxing. He swayed against the wall of a building next to him, and he almost lost his footing when he tried to catch himself. Leaving his body for so long had allowed his feet to go numb with inactivity.

  Gods, that hurts!

  “Alton knows.” Dormael winced. “Roldo has been dealt with. The Red Swords had a tidy little ambush set for us. There are probably more in the city somewhere, but the ones at the harbor will be occupied for awhile.”

  “Good.” D’Jenn smirked, bending an ear to the echoes of bells ringing in the harbor. “Let’s get to the North Gate.”

  There were no more guardsmen in the streets than there had been before, but the mood of Dormael’s companions was sharper. Dormael was winded from his expenditure of power, but he sucked the cold air into his chest to help him stay alert. A squad of City Watch ran past once they left the docks, but they trotted in the direction of the harbor’s bells and paid the party no mind.

  They rode at a walk from the poorer parts of Ferolan into the higher reaches, where the tenement buildings gave way to modern designs made of neat bricks of stone. The streets were quieter toward the northern end of town, and the only people making their way through the night paid the party little heed other than to shuffle from their path. The silence was welcome, but it made the hairs on Dormael’s neck rise with anxious tension.

  They halted in the shadows between two stone buildings as the city walls came into view. Dormael dismounted to peek around the corner at the North Gate, and D’Jenn followed. Four torches burned along the wall of the gatehouse, casting a flickering pool of light across the cobblestones of the street. Inside the glow of the torches, five men stood conversing in low tones, though their voices carried odd bits of the conversation to Dormael’s ears. Three of them wore the surcoats of Red Swords.

  “Five men,” he said over his shoulder, “three of them Galanians.”

  “Eindor’s blighted eye.” D’Jenn grimaced. “Well, we knew it wasn’t going to be easy.”

  “Just use your magic and have done with it,” Shawna said, her voice tight with pain. “We need to leave, they’re in the way. Seems pretty simple to me.”

  “It’s not simple.” D’Jenn shook his head “If we just go out there and blast our way through, we might as well write your Colonel Grant a letter telling him where we’re going.”

  “Let him come,” Shawna shot back. “I’m practically itching to meet him.”

  “D’Jenn is right.” Dormael looked at her. “It’s best not to hand them information.”

  “Besides, what are you going to do in your current state?” D’Jenn shrugged. “You might be deadly with those blades when you’re healed, but right now all you could do is hurl angry words and get killed.”

  “For now, Sevenlander.” Shawna turned away. “For now.”

  Dormael glanced back around the corner. “Distraction, or deception?”

  “Maybe a bit of both.” D’Jenn sighed through his nose. “Have any ideas?”

  Dormael ground his teeth. “What about a messenger? I could run up, scream about the emergency at the Docks.”

  “They’d piece together what happened pretty easily after we’d gone.” D’Jenn shook his head. “Not good enough.”

  “Put them all to sleep?” Dormael offered.

  D’Jenn shook his head again. “If they all get knocked out, they’ll know something strange happened as soon as they wake. Not good enough.”

  “A distraction, then. We could start a fire.”

  “I don’t like the thought of burning a few buildings just to aid in our escape. People could die in the fire,” D’Jenn said.

  “An illusion, then?” Dormael shrugged, turning away in frustration. “Maybe we could slip past them in a magical disguise.”

  “It’s risky.”

  “Wait—you can do illusions with your—?” Shawna wiggled her fingers.

  “To a certain degree.” D’Jenn nodded.

  “Well,” Shawna said, “there is one thing that would set them all to running.”

  “What?” Dormael asked.

  Shawna looked him in the eyes. “Me.”

  D’Jenn narrowed his eyes. “Not a bad idea. If you showed up at the gate and took off running—”

  “They’ll take off chasing me.” Shawna nodded.

  “Once they abandon their posts, we ride through the gate.” D’Jenn smiled. “They might even think you’re still in the city when you disappear into the streets. Distraction and deception—I like it.”

  “Whatever we do, let’s do it quickly.” Shawna winced. “It’s my side.”

  D’Jenn nodded. “I’ll do the illusion. I’m better at that sort of thing.”

  “Fair enough.” Dormael shrugged—it was true, after all. Dormael was naturally powerful, and he was an artist with destructive forces. When it came to complicated workings, however, he was less talented. He’d barely managed to cover the blood on Shawna’s clothing during his last attempt with illusions, but D’Jenn was subtler.

  “We’ll hide here in the alleyway while I do this. You keep us hidden,” D’Jenn said.

  “Got it.” Dormael nodded.

  “If this works, we’ll need to get out fast,” D’Jenn said. “Everyone, mount up.”

  Once everyone got into position, D’Jenn went to work. His power sang through the ether, his melody whispering through the night. He borrowed light from the air and twisted a shadow from the night. Colors sprang to life as the form solidified—a vision of Shawna astride her horse.

  She sat tall in the saddle, displaying her twin blades on her hips, her red-golden hair resplendent on her shoulders. D’Jenn made the illusory woman trot toward the gate and pause at the edge of the torchlight, wheeling the horse around. She glanced around in confusion and drew one of her swords. With a defiant glare in her eyes, she kicked her horse into motion and rode away from the gate. The hooves of the illusory horse even made noise, clopping over the cobblestones in time with its legs.

  Gods, he’s good at that.

  Dormael, for his part, deepened the shadows in the alleyway to hide the party.

  The Red Swords started shouting, and a clamor rose from the gatehouse. One of the men went for a pair of horses tied near the gate. He offered the second mount to one of his fellows and hopped into his saddle. He shouted a few terse orders, and the rest of the guards took off down an adjacent street to flank the illusory Shawna. The Red Swords snapped the reins of their horses and thundered in pursuit of D’Jenn’s illusion.

  The illusory Shawna rode past the alleyway, one sword drawn, hair streaming behind her like a warrior maiden in a song. The torchlight played along her sword, and she had a fierce expression on her face. She leaned forward in her saddle, hair blazing like fire in the ruddy light, and out-paced the two Galanians with ease.

  Shawna gaped at the illusion, her expression more awed than surprised.

  The Red Swords galloped past the alleyway, eyes locked to their prey. Their hoof-beats faded into the night, and finally D’Jenn opened his eyes and looked up. He gathered his
reins and nodded to the street.

  “We ride!”

  Bethany clutched to Dormael as he kicked Horse into motion, and the companions headed for the gatehouse at a run. Dormael whipped out with his power and sucked the flames from the torches burning by the entrance, plunging the square in front of the gate into deep shadows. They passed beneath the city gates without a fuss, and soon their backdrop became the rolling hills surrounding the northern edge of Ferolan.

  Dormael wanted to howl at the moon as the cold wind bit into his face. How long would it take the Galanian Colonel to figure out what happened? Perhaps the Galanians would waste days—or weeks—searching the city for Shawna. It was a warming sort of thought, and Dormael held onto it.

  The moonlit hills spread out before him, and though it was damnably cold, he was happy to be out of the city. Dormael glanced one last time at the fading lights of Ferolan, smiling as he caught eyes with Shawna. The wind was calm, the night was clear, and for the moment, they were free.

  I just hope it lasts. Hope was always fleeting. Dormael held to it anyway.

  Dancing with the Fire

  “What do you mean ‘gone’, soldier?” Grant tried his best not to toss everything on his writing desk into the floor.

  “She was just gone, sir.” Ferun gulped. “Disappeared. We chased her, but she outran us, and when she went around the corner…just gone, sir. I can’t explain it.”

  Grant tapped his finger on his desk, grinding his teeth. “That’s twice the bitch has escaped my grasp.”

  Ferun kept his mouth shut—he was more intelligent than Formin had been.

  Grant sat down in the chair at his desk and gazed out the window. He wanted to throttle the private. He wanted to scream.

  The emperor will have me dismissed for this, and I’ll be strangled. I know too much to left alive.

  “Sir, if I may offer an opinion?” Havram said from behind him.

  “Speak, Lieutenant.” Grant sighed. He was yet unsure if he could trust his aide, but the child was gone now—either stolen from him in the night or escaped. The point of contention between them was removed, and Havram had always been otherwise professional.