The Seventh Sigil

by Margaret Weis

  As Stephano descended, he had a chance to observe the fortress from the air. From a distance, Fort Ignacio could be easily taken for an odd stone formation, a mound made of rock jutting up out of a field. Likely one reason it had remained undisturbed for all these years. Those traveling in this part of Rosia—and they would be few, since the land was mostly unclaimed wilderness—would take no particular notice of one more hillock among many.

  As he flew closer, he could see clearly that this was no natural formation. Three stone walls encircled the stone mound, one near the top, one in the middle, and the largest at the bottom. He noted with interest the gun emplacements were on the lowest level and thought it would be wise to mount swivel guns on the middle and upper walls. As he drew ever nearer, he could see the stonemason crafters reinforcing and repairing the walls. Prince Renaud had told him he had already sent crafters and others to start work on making repairs to the fort.

  Dag, having once served inside Fort Ignacio, had likened the fort to a skep—a beehive made of straw, shaped like a dome with the wide portion at the bottom. The fort had been constructed years ago by Estaran stonemason crafters, who had burrowed through the solid stone, transforming it into living areas: The main barracks, officers’ quarters, privies, food storage, infirmary, kitchen and mess hall collectively formed a ring around the innermost part of the fort. The center of the dome contained the main armory and powder magazine. Between the two, a large space was being hollowed out and cleared for the dragons to rest when they hit the near-liquid part of the Breath, and would have to shelter inside. They could fly on their own most of the way down, but Stephano was concerned about them flying through that environment.

  This assumed that Stephano could persuade the dragons to fly with him. A large assumption.

  As Stephano drew nearer, he saw Dag standing on the ramparts on the upper level. Dag must have heard Petard’s hooting and looked to see what was going on. He waved at Stephano, then left to descend the stairs, to meet him outside the main gate.

  After the griffin landed, Stephano thanked the beast and dismissed it. The griffin flew off, pointedly ignoring the dragons, who in return paid him no heed. The three circled overhead, preparing to land.

  Stephano took off his helm and ran his hand through his sweat-dampened hair, walking swiftly to meet Dag, who was just emerging from the fortress’s main gate.

  At the sight of Dag, Stephano checked an exclamation of dismay. He was shocked at Dag’s appearance. The big man had lost weight and his hair, which he wore in a short, military cut, was showing gray at the temples. He looked haggard and sleep deprived.

  Stephano knew, of course, that his friend had been working day and night with the crafters to restore the fortress. He noted the lights they had rigged to enable them to work well into the night. But he didn’t think long hours alone could account for Dag’s altered appearance. His military friend thrived on hard work. He must be blaming himself for Gythe and Miri’s disappearance and, worse yet, assuming that Stephano blamed him as well.

  Dag was standing in the shadow of the fortress, waiting for his arrival. The three dragons had landed some distance away, eager to see Stephano, but he had to reassure Dag before he visited them.

  “Good to see you, sir,” said Dag stiffly, starting to salute.

  “The hell with that,” said Stephano. He grabbed Dag’s hand and pressed it warmly. “It is good to see you, my friend.”

  Dag shook his head. “Don’t call me friend, sir. I don’t deserve it.”

  “Dag, listen to me,” said Stephano, keeping hold of Dag’s big hand. “I don’t blame you for what happened with Miri and Gythe. I don’t hold you responsible. You shouldn’t hold yourself responsible. Gythe drugged you. You had no way of knowing what she was planning. And likely no way of stopping her, even if you had known.”

  “I’m not sure, sir. Gythe had been acting strangely. She kept to herself, didn’t hear us when we talked to her. She seemed to be hearing their evil voices. I’m sure they lured her away. I should have known!”

  “But you didn’t,” said Stephano, practical and matter-of-fact. “Dag, answer me this: How many men in this whole wide world ever know what any woman is thinking?”

  Dag gave a wan smile. “I know you’re trying to help, sir. But it’s still my fault.”

  Stephano gave up. Dag had not forgiven himself for an incident that had happened years ago when he’d ordered men to go on what had ended up being a deadly mission. Despite the fact that he could not have foreseen an ambush set to catch him and his men, he still blamed himself for their deaths.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve heard any news of Miri and Gythe?” Stephano asked.

  Dag shook his head. “No, I haven’t. You, sir?”

  “Nothing.” Stephano rested his hand on Dag’s shoulder. “But no matter where they are, we’ll find them.”

  “That we will, sir,” said Dag with grim certainty. “I won’t rest until I have.”

  “I’m going to greet the young dragons,” said Stephano, glad to end this conversation. He was uncomfortable talking about Miri, even when all he did was think about her. “You get something to eat. You’re starting to look like a skeleton.”

  “I haven’t had much appetite lately, sir. The prince sent his own cook from the flagship. The food’s actually good.”

  “Only the best for His Highness,” said Stephano drily.

  “About the young dragons, sir,” said Dag. “They have a surprise for you.”

  Stephano was wary. “A good surprise or a bad surprise? I’ve had enough bad surprises.”

  “You’ll find out, sir,” Dag said with a smile.

  Stephano stood gazing up at the fort. He vividly remembered the immense size of the fortress, the thickness of its walls. He and the Dragon Brigade had fought a hard battle until they finally forced the men inside to surrender. The memory brought back thoughts of his former dragon partner, Lady Cam, and her death. He shook his head, banished the thoughts, and went to meet his new partner.

  The three dragons were lined up as he had often seen them on the island, with Viola in the center and the two males on either side. She was eager and excited, now that she knew all had been forgiven between them. Her head tilted slightly, her tail thumped the ground.

  Stephano called out, “I am pleased you have returned, Viola. I am very sorry to hear about your homeland.”

  Viola opened her mouth and spoke slowly and haltingly. “Thank you, Captain Stephano.”

  Stephano stopped to stare at the dragon in amazement. Although he knew the wild dragons understood what he said to them, they had never spoken anything other than the dragon language; nor had they ever evinced any interest in learning how to speak a human language.

  “Viola, that is wonderful!” said Stephano warmly. “I am pleased you are learning my language!”

  “Learning,” said Viola. “Hard.”

  “Cap-tain,” said Petard, crowding his way forward, bumping his sister.

  “Ste-phan-o,” said Verdi slowly. “Dag. Gythe.”

  Viola shot him a warning look. Verdi ducked his head. Petard regarded Stephano with grave solemnity. Petard had been Gythe’s partner, and the two had been very close.

  “What about Gythe?” Stephano asked sharply. “Do you know where she is? Is she safe? Is Miri with her?”

  “Safe,” said Viola cautiously.

  “You have heard from Gythe!” Stephano said excitedly. “I know the two of you could communicate mentally. Tell me. Where are Gythe and Miri?”

  Viola glanced back uneasily at Petard and Verdi. Clearly, Petard was unhappy, his head down, his mane flattened along his spine, his eyes hooded. Verdi stood stoic, solemn, silent.

  “Please, help me,” Stephano pleaded. “If you know, tell where to find my friends!”

  Viola again repeated, “Safe.”

  Stephano was frustrated. Either the dragons didn’t know or they weren’t telling. At least Gythe and Miri were safe—presuming Viola knew the m
eaning of the word.

  Petard fetched a sigh that rippled over his body from his head to his tail. Lifting his wings, he glanced longingly into the sky.

  “Fly?” Viola said eagerly.

  “You should rest. We will be making a long flight into the dragon realms. You three can meet your cousins.”

  He thought they would be pleased. But the young dragons seemed to be thrown into a panic by this news, fluttering their wings and tossing their heads. They had met only two civilized dragons, Hroal and Droal, the brothers who guarded the sorrowful ruins of what had been the Abbey of Saint Agnes. Stephano guessed the three must have heard disparaging stories about their civilized cousins from their elders.

  He felt he should say something reassuring, but he had his own doubts about this reunion with the civilized dragons. The two factions had not parted on good terms and even though the rift had occurred centuries before, the long-lived dragons had long-lived memories.

  “Speaking of families, I heard from Dag about what you found when you returned to your island. I am sorry, very sorry. You couldn’t find any trace of them?”

  “Fire,” Viola said sadly. “All gone. Alive? Dead?” She shook her head.

  * * *

  Stephano returned to the fortress to find Dag had assembled all the workers: crafter masons, carpenter crafters, and engineers, to meet Stephano.

  “They were told they were readying the fortress to defend this part of the coastline,” said Dag softly to Stephano. “Prince Renaud offered them an extra week’s wages if they finished the work ahead of schedule. They’ve been working two shifts, day and night.”

  “Excellent,” said Stephano, pleased.

  After they met with the workers to discuss the repairs and answer any questions they might have, Stephano asked Dag to give him a tour of the fortress. During his days as a mercenary soldier, Dag had been hired by the Estarans to serve as a sergeant in Fort Ignacio, which they knew was going to come under attack by the Rosians. The Estarans had laid claim to the southern part of the Rosian continent for centuries and had established the fortress to test Rosian resolve.

  “The Estarans snagged a small island drifting in the Breath off the coastline and magically altered the natural landscape,” Dag explained to Stephano. “Crafters smoothed the jagged rocks of a mountain into an inverted bowl shape, adding the walls and guard towers.”

  In addition, they had tethered four smaller free-floating islands to the main fortress, added walls and gun batteries, turning them into redoubts. Suspended at the end of heavy iron chains, the redoubts could be extended to provide a better field of fire and keep the enemy from landing troops on the main fortress.

  “I remember,” said Stephano, adding grimly, “I wish I didn’t.”

  “I agree, sir,” said Dag, shaking his head over his own memories. “That was a war both sides lost.”

  “Considering it fell a thousand feet through the air, the fortress appears to be in pretty good repair.”

  “The main body of the fortress remained intact, though, as you can see, most of the walls and towers collapsed.”

  “And you lost the redoubts,” said Stephano.

  “One was destroyed in the siege,” said Dag. “The other three broke free when the fortress hit the ground. Two came down God knows where. The fourth almost fell on our heads. You can see what’s left of it over there. We’re using the stone to repair the walls.”

  “You were damn lucky you survived,” said Stephano, looking over the walls at what was left of the redoubt: a large crater filled with rubble.

  “I owe my life to our crafter, Father Antonius,” said Dag. “He guided the fortress down, doing his best to slow the descent and alter the angle at which it fell, minimizing the force of the impact. Our biggest challenge now is sealing the doors and windows so that we can survive the freezing cold and the powerful, treacherous currents we’ll face in the Breath.”

  “When do the workers expect to be finished?”

  “In a few weeks, sir,” said Dag. “Maybe sooner.”

  “Would you be free to leave, travel with me for a few days?” Stephano asked.

  “Yes, sir,” said Dag, brightening. “I’m really not needed. Thus far my main job has been to keep the masons from fighting with the carpenters.”

  “Good. We’ll make the wild dragons happy. I believe they are eager for an adventure.”

  “Where are we going?” Dag asked.

  “The dragon realms,” said Stephano. “His Royal Highness has authorized me to try to reform the Dragon Brigade.”

  “Congratulations, sir!” said Dag. “That’s wonderful news.”

  “There are a lot of ‘ifs’ before that happens. If I can find any of the former members and if I do, will they set aside their anger and agree to come fight to save us after we insulted them and drove them away? I haven’t forgiven Alaric for disbanding the Brigade,” Stephano added grimly. “I don’t see why they would.”

  “The dragons must know by now that the Bottom Dwellers are a threat to them,” said Dag. “If what the wild dragons tell us is true, the contramagic is killing their young.”

  “Maybe the wild dragons can convince them,” said Stephano. “Although that could be another problem. The wild dragons and their so-called civilized cousins haven’t spoken in hundreds of years.”

  They were standing on the ramparts of the upper wall, watching the three young dragons. Ignoring Stephano’s suggestion that they rest, they had taken to the air to practice their battle maneuvers: diving straight down toward the ground, pulling up at the last moment, twisting and turning to avoid fire from an imaginary foe.

  The sunlight glittered on their scales, and with their speed and grace, they were a beautiful, even awe-inspiring sight. Few of the workmen had ever seen dragons in action and a number of them stopped to stare, bringing down the wrath of their foremen upon them.

  Stephano grinned. He could understand the workers’ reaction. Even he found it hard to tear his attention away from the dragons. Watching them, he thought of a question he had been meaning to ask Dag. “What happened on the dragons’ island? All Viola would tell me was ‘fire.’”

  “According to what they told Hroal and Droal, the young dragons returned home to find that the island had been torched. They discovered bat corpses and the body of a dead dragon,” Dag said. “The body was so charred, they couldn’t tell who it was. The young ones searched for their clansmen, but the island was deserted. That’s why they came back to us. They had nowhere else to go.”

  “Suitable members for the Cadre of the Lost,” Stephano remarked.

  “I wish we were a cadre again, sir,” said Dag heavily. “Doesn’t seem right without Miri and Gythe. I even miss that plague sore, Rigo, though if you tell him I said so, I’ll deny it.”

  “We’ll be together again,” said Stephano confidently. “I feel it in my bones.”

  Dag grunted. “You always get like this, sir.”

  “Like what?” Stephano asked, startled.

  “Happy,” said Dag dourly. “When you’re about to go into action, you get happy.”

  Stephano looked at the dragons wheeling in the sky, then at the towering walls of the fortress, and he thought of the possibility of putting the Dragon Brigade back together.

  “We’re going to take the fight to the Bottom Dwellers, Dag,” said Stephano. “We’re not going to play defense any longer. We’re going to avenge the murdered nuns, the sailors aboard the Royal Lion, and all those who died in the Crystal Market. We’re not going to let them destroy the voice of God. They’re going to hear God roar.”

  “You also wax poetic,” said Dag, grumbling.

  Stephano laughed. He was about to suggest that Dag show him where to find the mess when the young dragons began to hoot. Both men turned to see what was happening. Two dragons, one of them unusually massive, were flying toward the fortress from the northwest.

  “That’s Droal, sir,” said Dag, squinting against the sunlight. “I never sa
w the other.”

  Stephano stared intently. “By God, it’s Lord Haelgrund! He was a member of the Dragon Brigade. I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “I wonder how he knew you were here,” said Dag.

  “Droal must have told him and brought him to meet with me.”

  Stephano watched the two dragons approach. Haelgrund, a young dragon who could fly swiftly for his size, was deliberately slowing his flight to allow the elderly Droal to keep pace with him.

  “Odd coincidence,” Stephano said, troubled. “Here I am thinking about flying to the dragons to discuss reinstating the Brigade and Haelgrund comes looking for me.”

  “You don’t sound as if you think this is a good coincidence, sir,” said Dag with a sidelong glance.

  “I don’t,” said Stephano.

  Droal and Haelgrund landed in a field, and then the wild dragons landed nearby, keeping their distance. They were glad to see Droal, but appeared wary of the stranger, especially such a large stranger.

  Haelgrund was seventy-five feet from his head to the tip of his tail, with the long, arching neck that marked him a dragon of noble blood, and vivid green scales. Lady Cam had once confided to Stephano that the female dragons of the realm considered Haelgrund a fine specimen of dragon manhood. Stephano doubted he had taken a mate. Dragons generally did not mate until they were closer to three hundred.

  Stephano was interested in the reaction of the wild dragons, who had probably never seen a dragon this enormous. Viola was clearly impressed, because her eyes were open wide. Verdi, his eyes narrowed in displeasure, was not happy to see Viola admiring the newcomer. Hearing Verdi growl loudly, the irrepressible Petard gave a hoot of laughter, causing Viola to whip her head around to glare at him. Petard fell meekly silent, though Stephano thought he saw a gleam of mischief in the young dragon’s eye.

  Haelgrund, who would have learned about the wild dragons from Droal, now regarded the three curiously. His attention focused immediately on the lovely Viola. She noticed his admiration, but pretended not to, averting her head and preening her spikey mane.