The Sigil Blade

by Jeff Wilson

  He learned that she and her sister took care of six goats, seventeen chickens, an herb garden, and a plot of vegetables that included carrots, potatoes, and onions. Added to all of that now was one fairly useless and enfeebled stranger who was more trouble to care for than any other part of the small farm.

  He learned more useful things as well. He had been nearly dead to the world for over three weeks, and he had indeed been taken for one of the dreaded Ash Men by people who had seen him stumbling through the town on the day he had collapsed. He was most certainly considered a source of contagion. No one apart from Irial, Eithne, and Seoras was to know where he was. Irial it seemed, was risking a lot. Seoras had acquiesced to Irial’s suggestion that he should be cared for in her home, but that had only been because he was convinced that Edryd would not survive. If Edryd was not going to live, just as well that he died quietly somewhere else. Now that he was awake, it wasn’t clear what would happen.

  Eithne had also let it slip that her sister had plans for Edryd, but Eithne didn’t seem to know what was involved. This was hardly an unfamiliar experience. It seemed to Edryd like everyone he met wanted to use him in one way or another. Ordinarily, Edryd would have been frustrated, but he found that he was instead anxiously hoping that he could be useful. He certainly owed a debt, and would do whatever he could to help Irial.

  Irial’s return interrupted the middle of yet another mini confrontation. It was only as she heard Irial approaching the house that Eithne realized she had never brought Edryd any milk. In a blur of motion, she was gone and back again with an earthen pitcher and a cup made out of a hollowed-out stone. Pouring quickly, she then extended the cup toward Edryd.

  “Drink it,” she whined urgently, “do it quickly.”

  Edryd wanted to tell her that it didn’t really matter, but Eithne looked so sincerely worried that he took the milk and began to drink. The milk was warm and not quite fresh either, and though it was immensely satisfying to his starved body, he was having trouble finishing it.

  “Do it faster,” she pled as he tried to swallow, causing him to choke.

  Recovering, Edryd drained the contents of the cup and dried his mouth on his sleeve just as Irial was entering the room.

  “Oh good, you gave him the milk,” Irial said. She was pleased to see Edryd doing well.

  “This is his second cup,” Eithne lied, “I brought him another right after you left.”

  Edryd nearly coughed up what was left of a last swallow of milk that he had not gotten completely down.

  “We mustn’t give him too much, Eithne,” Irial cautioned. “He needs to build up slowly.”

  “Don’t worry, I took good care of him,” she replied. She flashed Edryd a subtle warning look as if to say he shouldn’t dare try and contradict her.

  “She certainly did,” Edryd agreed. “I can’t say I wouldn’t have preferred a good piece of roasted meat, but the spiced chicken dumplings she made me were delicious.”

  Remembering Irial’s strict warning that she was not to give him anything solid, Eithne gasped, the sharply inhaled air remaining momentarily caught in her lungs. Believing she was about to unfairly be in trouble, Eithne started in on a furious protest that she had done no such thing when Irial began to laugh.

  “She isn’t much of a student in the kitchen,” Irial said. “If Eithne had made you dumplings, you wouldn’t have been able to describe them with the word ‘delicious’.”

  Eithne flushed red and stomped out of the room, the expression of malice and disdain all too real this time.

  “That has to be the tenth time today she has done that,” Edryd reported, exaggerating only a little. “At least she is angry with you this time instead of me.”

  “Eithne has become very invested in getting you better, and takes watching over you very seriously,” Irial said. “You probably shouldn’t tease her like that.”

  Edryd’s smile faded as guilt began to rise slowly to the surface. “I expect that I have been a real burden, and I must seem ungrateful,” he said with remorse.

  “I won’t say it was no trouble,” Irial admitted. “But your survival is a matter of no small consequence… important to many others to be sure, but not least of all to me either.”

  Edryd knew he was taking it the wrong way, but his heart ran faster at hearing Irial say he was important to her. He remembered Eithne had mentioned that Irial needed him. Rather than follow his awkward interest in pursuing clarity in the matter, he changed the topic to a related subject.

  “If you know the answer,” Edryd began cautiously, “can you tell me what it is that Seoras wants with me?”

  Irial paused before responding. “Do you remember I told you that he trains enslaved men to be soldiers?” she asked.

  Edryd nodded. He did remember, but he wasn’t sure how it related to him.

  “To say that he trains soldiers doesn’t really suffice. When he finishes, they are more than just ordinary soldiers, they are special,” she continued.

  “I’m sorry,” Edryd scoffed, unconsciously adopting an officious and condescending tone, “but from what I have seen there is very little that is special about his soldiers. Hagan and Cecht were poorly trained, ill-mannered, and lacked any discernable discipline.” In truth, both had been surprisingly fast and resilient, but Edryd didn’t feel like either could do anything other than cheapen the very concept of what a professional soldier should be. Had Edryd been responsible in any way for their oversight or training, he would have been quick to avoid accepting credit for the results.

  “Those two are examples of his failures,” Irial corrected. “His more accomplished students have been dealt a more horrible fate than simply remaining in service to Seoras here in An Innis. Those that show proficiency and learn to shape darkness are made into thralls to undead spirit creatures that serve Aed Seoras’s master.”

  “You’re talking of the draugar,” Edryd said with a shudder that came despite his best efforts to remain calm. He didn’t know what was meant by ‘shaping darkness’ but his own experiences with being followed and pursued relentlessly by a draugr pushed all other thoughts from his mind.

  “Yes, that is one name for them,” Irial confirmed.

  Skipping the more obvious question as to who was Aed Seoras’s master, Edryd focused on his more immediate predicament. “He means to make me one of these thralls then?”

  “I don’t think so,” Irial disagreed. “He seems to see you as something else.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “I think he believes you could become his equal, or even more than that,” Irial explained. “I think he is looking for an ally and partner.”

  “An ally against whom or a partner in what?” Edryd questioned.

  “I am sure I do not know,” Irial answered truthfully but unhelpfully.

  Edryd began to understand just how difficult his position was, and wondered if it might have been better if he had simply not survived his illness. He had narrowly slipped a draugr who seemed to have a personal mission to unrelentingly follow him across the breadth of the known world, only to end up mixed up with a man who paired unwilling captives and slaves to those very same deathly creatures. He could hardly have found a less safe place to escape to.

  “I have no right to ask more of you, but when we met you told me you could help me leave An Innis,” Edryd reminded her, holding onto the small hope that this gave him.

  “I am afraid it is too late for that,” Irial responded. “I should not have spoken about that, not without better understanding the situation. I was lacking some important information, or I would never have suggested it.”

  Edryd assumed this to mean that Seoras’s interest in him was much stronger than she had imagined, and he didn’t push the matter any further. He would have to face the realities of the situation without complaint. Seeing the look of sudden resignation on his face, Irial made an effort to reassure him. “No reason to worry for the moment, you are nowhere near well enough to leave here. I can buy
you time to figure things out before you will need to resume training with Seoras.”

  “I really am grateful for your help,” Edryd said sincerely. “Tell me what I can do for you in return. I am sure there is something.”

  Appearing uncertain, Irial looked Edryd over intently, considering what she should say. “We will talk of it when you are better,” she finally offered, explaining nothing at all.

  Irial closed the conversation by asking after anything he might need. Insisting that he didn’t need anything, Edryd was then left alone in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Immediately, he regretted not having asked about a change of clothes.

  It was no more than a few minutes later when Eithne intruded upon his solitude. “If you were wondering,” she began slowly and seriously, “Irial was just being mean when she said that I was bad at cooking.” Eithne seemed to be very worried on this point.

  “I’m sure she was,” Edryd replied.

  “I don’t know how to make chicken dumplings,” she admitted. “But I watch over the goats and chickens, and I work in the garden. I help harvest vegetables, I tend the fire, and I help clean everything.”

  Edryd smiled as he listened to the unending list of things that Eithne did to contribute.

  “If I don’t know how to cook, it is because she doesn’t either,” she continued, rationalizing any perceived shortcomings she might have. “I’ve seen how she does it though. If she would let me, I could cook what she does,” Eithne insisted. She didn’t seem to realize that she was contradicting her earlier claim that Irial couldn’t cook at all.

  “You have left something important out,” Edryd objected.

  Eithne tensed, expecting Edryd to challenge the glowing review she had just given herself.

  “You know how to nurse a poor sick stranger back to health,” Edryd said. “I understand I have you to thank for watching over me and getting me better.”

  Eithne blushed happily at the compliment. Suddenly self-conscious of her reaction, her mood shifted and she tried to feign indifference.

  “Maybe you can give me a tour now that I am well enough,” Edryd suggested.

  Eithne’s eyes narrowed into a familiar expression. “You are not well enough,” she said. “And what makes you think I want to show you around my house?” she argued as an added measure.

  Trying to demonstrate that he was strong enough, Edryd stood up and began walking towards the door, ignoring the aches felt in just about every muscle in his body.

  “Well come on then,” Eithne said with an exaggerated sigh, realizing that he was determined. Without further argument, and in truth quite pleased to be relied upon as the source of privileged information, she led him out the door.

  On the other side of the doorway Edryd found himself in a short, confined hallway, open on either end with archways that led into the main living area. This space served solely as a screen to the entrances to the bedrooms. It was an interesting but apparently unnecessary feature that struck Edryd as an unfortunate misuse of space. A stone fireplace and a kitchen area could be seen through the archway to his right. Eithne headed in the opposite direction into an open doorway a few feet away that led to the other bedroom.

  “This… is my room,” she declared proudly. It was the same size as Irial’s room, but crowded with two beds, a trunk, a dressing table, and a small shelf full of books, there was scarcely any space left in which to move around.

  The realization that his presence had meant that Irial was now sharing a room with Eithne, mortified him in no small measure. “I’m sorry that you had to give up part of your room,” Edryd began to apologize.

  Eithne interrupted him before he could say more. “It’s only temporary,” she said. Her eyes brightening in anticipation, she suddenly blurted out, “let’s go to your room!”

  She had not meant the room he had been staying in. Edryd followed after her as she bounced excitedly out of the room and hurried through the nearest archway into the large double-bayed open hall that made up the main living area in the cottage. Stout oak timbers rose up at regular intervals along the low stone plinth walls, curving as they ascended. Joined tightly at the top with mirrored timbers from the opposite side, they supported a steeply sloped thatch roof. A fire pit, lacking coals or ash or any other signs of recent use, dominated the center of the room. Thatch, blackened by smoke all around a small opening in the center of the hall, suggested that the fire pit had at times been used extensively in the past.

  Two tables filled the far side of the room, one a large oak slab bordered by long low benches and the other a smaller roughly squared surface covered by a linen cloth and edged with mismatched chairs neatly arranged on each side. Irial sat beside the fireplace in the corner next to the bedrooms, comfortably relaxing in a chair while tending to the contents of a large iron pot heated by hot coals and a low flame in the fireplace. Closed doors along the wall opposite his current position suggested rooms on the other side of the living area. They lacked the screening hallway, but he anticipated that they would otherwise be largely identical to those he had just seen.

  Eithne headed directly toward the door nearest the back of the cottage, pushed it inward, and disappeared inside. Pausing to acknowledge a curious look from Irial, Edryd followed after the enthusiastic guide. The room shared the same dimensions as the others he had seen, but had fewer furnishings. Seeing a modest bed against the back wall, Edryd took the opportunity to both test the bed and rest his tiring body by taking a seat on the wool stuffed mattress.

  It seemed obvious that the room had been prepared for him, even though he had not been put in it. He wondered why with so much space he had been using Irial’s room and she had doubled up with Eithne. Then he began to notice how much colder this room was. Irial’s room shared a wall with the kitchen fireplace and would probably have been the warmest place in the cottage. The arrangement had been out of necessity, and wouldn’t continue. Edryd’s attention was then caught by the solid wood bar supports fastened to either side of the door frame. An oak beam matching the width of the supports stood upright in the corner. He tried to remember if this had been a feature in the other rooms as well but couldn’t recall. Certainly, housing a strange man in the room next door, he wouldn’t be surprised if they barred their bedroom door each night.

  Eithne looked at Edryd expectantly, gauging his reactions and seeking approval. “It’s a nice clean room,” Edryd remarked. “I’ll bet you helped get it ready specifically for me,” he added.

  “She did,” Irial said from the doorway. “You are only just beginning to recover though, and you are not well enough yet to move into a drafty room like this one.”

  Overcoming his surprise at her sudden appearance, Edryd met her concerned stare directly. “I would be far more comfortable in here, and there are plenty of blankets. I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

  Irial looked doubtful and clearly had her misgivings, but she didn’t argue.

  “Your things are already here,” Eithne said, looking pleased and pointing to a trunk along the outside wall. His dark oiled coat hung on a peg in the corner and his shoes and belt rested atop the trunk Eithne had identified, which he assumed must have held his clothing. He was too tired to do much more in the way of moving around, so there wasn’t much point in getting dressed, but it was a relief to know where his belongings were. Eithne appeared dissatisfied when he didn’t open and inspect the trunk.

  “We will try it for the night,” Irial said, “but if your condition worsens in any way, you’ll be moving back to a warmer room.”

  Irial had Eithne bring him another bowl of warm broth, and she watched as he finished it. Afterwards she wouldn’t leave until he agreed to get some rest. Feeling rather foolish and uncomfortable at being mothered like a young child, Edryd allowed her to help him into bed, and without protest, he also allowed her to also tuck the sheets in tightly around him. Sleep refused to come at first, but when it did he settled into a deep uninterrupted slumber.

  Chapter 9


  King of the Ascomanni

  The next morning, Edryd woke to find that he was alone in the cottage. Feeling determined not to waste another day lying in bed, Edryd dressed slowly while making plans to explore the rest of the building. He was still weak, but he had more energy and his body no longer ached so much with each exertion. It felt good to move around and he felt light on his feet. This wasn’t just in his head he realized; he was in fact much lighter than he had been.

  Eithne had shown him nearly everything there was to see the night before. There was one last room which remained unexplored, but it was barred shut from the inside. Curiously, there was also pair of sliding wooden bolts attached to this side of the door that allowed the room to be secured from the outside as well. He could think of only one purpose for this: it could be used to lock someone inside. He was glad that this was not the room that had been prepared for him. Feeling chilled by a current of cold air as he stood beside the door, Edryd decided to return to his room, where he retrieved his coat from where it had been hung on a peg in the corner.

  Satisfied with his explorations within, Edryd wrapped himself in the dark coat before turning back around, going through the open hall, and then out the front entrance into the bright morning sunlight in front of the cottage. His canvas coat was not especially warm, but it was of a good quality and provided protection both from the damp and from the wind. It was loose and comfortable, and he had to overlap the open ends a good four to six inches before it went tight around his body. Choosing not to think about this in terms of how thin and weak he had become, Edryd instead admired the cut of the coat, feeling not quite like the person he had once been, and welcoming the idea that he could become someone different.

  Eithne was tending to a group of goats penned inside a fenced yard a short distance to the south of the cottage. Settling down on a large stump beside the wood pile that was stacked just in front of the house, Edryd watched as Eithne separated two milking goats and led them to a feeding trough. She glanced in his direction only once, and then proceeded to collect milk from first one and then the other, partially filling a wooden pail in the process. When she finished, Eithne transferred the contents into a hardened clay jug, and with one hand on each handle, she began lugging it up the gentle slope that led up towards the entrance of the cottage. Edryd instinctively wanted to help, but he decided against it. Better to be thought of as weak and enfeebled, than to publicly demonstrate it.