by Jeff Wilson
“You couldn’t,” Neysim disagreed. “I have already finished my ten year service. The wealthiest and most powerful merchants in Nar Edor all arose from out of the ranks of former Sigil Corps trained soldiers. The connections you make while in the Order are a guarantee of well-paid employment once you leave service.”
“That is how you maintain loyalty then,” Krin concluded.
Neysim nodded his head in agreement. “A man motivated by money or power will hardly purchase it at the expenditure of his freedom, swearing service to a Lord and landowner who would never share with his men what the Order does.”
“But did not Aedan Elduryn swear his loyalty to Kyreth Edorin?”
“He did,” Neysim agreed, “but that was before the re-founding of the Order, and it is said that he later rescinded that oath.”
This was all intensely interesting to Krin. Most of what he had heard of the Sigil Corps and of Aedan Elduryn had not come from someone so close to the source, and what he was learning now differed from most of what was widely believed beyond the borders of Nar Edor.
“If a man leaves the Corps before finishing his service, I suppose he isn’t much use then to anyone,” Krin said.
“We would let even the worst failures enlist again if they desired it,” Neysim said, “but they start a new ten year term if they do.”
Krin was starting to see the appeal of a group like the Sigil Corps. It went beyond the romantic notion of the near mythical order of Sigil Warriors of old that this group was trying to emulate. Recruiting even a few of these men into the Ascomanni would be invaluable, but it was going to be a difficult bargain to sell.
Oren and Ruach arrived a moment later, abruptly interrupting Krin’s efforts to progress the conversation further. Egran followed along a short distance behind, but he continued on past the group without bothering to acknowledge any of them.
“Ledrin wants to speak with you,” Ruach said.
Krin stuffed pieces of meat and bread into his mouth, hurriedly finishing what was left of his food as he casually complied with the summons. Neysim started to rise as well but Ruach stopped him.
“Oren and I will take your post for a while,” Ruach said to Neysim. “Finish your meal and head back when you are ready.”
“Lead on,” Krin said, his voice muffled by a mouthful of food that he had yet to swallow.
Oren and Ruach exchanged a few looks as the three of them travelled back down the corridors on the way to Ledrin’s quarters.
“Is he even going to get the message through?” Oren asked his companion.
“He has channels, and I think we can trust that he will use them,” said Ruach.
“I don’t suppose anyone would like to tell me what we are talking about?” Krin asked, only to be rewarded with an uncomfortable silence. “Someone, please say something,” he demanded with increased when it became clear that no explanation was coming.
“Ledrin has reassigned us,” Oren said unhappily, diverting the topic by not actually answering Krin’s question, but making it appear that he had. “We will be reporting to a new command.”
“You are released from Aisen then?” Krin asked.
“Not until the transfer takes effect three days from now,” Ruach said.
“There is more, isn’t there,” Krin said, prying away at them for more information.
“He won’t be sending help to Aisen, says that he can’t,” Oren siad, showing intense disappointment, the tone of which bordered on being insubordinate.
“He has his reasons,” Ruach said, feeling compelled to defend the commander. “We are stretched thin already. The other commanders aren’t going to allow him to allocate scarce resources for an expedition to retrieve a man who doesn’t want to come back.”
“I can’t believe you are saying that. We can’t afford to do nothing. It is well worth the risk if we can return with an army of allies,” Oren countered. There was a heat behind his words, and Oren was clearly ready to defend the stance which he had taken.
“The Ascomanni don’t really constitute what I would call an army,” Ruach disagreed.
Krin had made much the same point to Neysim only a few minutes ago, but he wasn’t about to help settle anything by coming into this on Ruach’s side, with which he did not agree.
“Can we just say that you both have positions with merit?” Krin laughed. He was taking pleasure in watching the two men argue.
“You have no say in this,” Ruach said. Oren seemed to agree, as neither appreciated Krin’s deliberately unhelpful interference.
“We are no army, but it isn’t our numbers that would be valuable,” Krin pointed out, taking the situation more seriously. “It’s our mobility that would be of benefit. With our ships, you could threaten anywhere along the coastlines.”
Oren quickly jumped in to support the argument. “It would persuade houses to stay close to home, protecting their own holdings instead taking risks by joining the king’s effort to strip House Edorin of its lands.”
“All good in theory,” Ruach said, “but we are a long way from achieving anything of the kind.”
“With even a small complement of Sigil Warriors backing us up we would make quick work of An Innis,” Krin disagreed. “We could be here with a fleet of ships in less than a month.”
The notion put fire behind Oren’s eyes, but he had been sold on all of this long ago. Ruach however, was dubious of Krin’s claims, and he wasn’t going to get behind this plan, not without support from his superiors.
The Ascomanni captain was ushered into Ledrin’s office before they could discuss the matter any further, and Sarel Krin now stood alone facing the Sigil Corps commander. Ledrin was perhaps twenty years older than Krin, but he was still a solidly imposing figure. It wasn’t a sensation that Krin experienced very often, but he felt intimidated under the stare of this man.
“How is Aisen doing?” Ledrin asked.
“Well enough, but despite his many efforts, our young Blood Prince hasn’t had much luck at running away from himself. He has attracted the attentions of every single faction currently competing for control of An Innis.”
“These factions, who are they?” said Ledrin, interrupting Krin as if he were conducting an interrogation.
“The Ascomanni captains of course. That absurd Ard Ri for another. The one person of real consequence though is a far more dangerous man, a dark sorcerer named Aed Seoras. All have tried to make use of Aisen in one way or another.”
“He won’t like that,” Ledrin said. “There was a misunderstanding between us, and Aisen no longer trusts me. He thinks that I tried to use him.”
“I don’t think that was a misunderstanding,” Krin said with a wry laugh. “I have no doubt you did use him, and would be doing so now if you could get your hands on him.”
Ignoring the accusation, Ledrin continued with another question. “He left under some interesting circumstances, and he would have had a sword with him, the family sword of House Edorin.”
“That would be a big weapon that casts bright white light when he wields it? Never seen it.”
Ledrin appeared unconvinced.
“I don’t know if he knows where the sword is, but he does not have it,” Krin insisted. “He had no weapons when he arrived, and he carries nothing more than a simple short sword now.”
“What are the Ascomanni intentions in regard to Aisen and with respect to Nar Edor?” Ledrin asked, moving the interview along.
“Logaeir plans to overthrow the Ard Ri, Esivh Rhol, and install Aisen in his place. He wants to make him the ruler of An Innis. Ultimately, I think he believes that Edryd, Aisen I mean, will be able to take firm control of the Ascomanni forces.”
“Oren and Ruach have differing views regarding this Logaeir fellow. Tell me what kind of man he is. And tell me, why would he want Aisen put in control?”
“Logaeir was a young boy when the remnants of Beodred’s forces took control of An Innis following their defeat here in Nar Edor. Logaeir witnes
sed what happened then, including the deaths of his friends, the exploitation of those that survived, and the violence that took place again each time power changed hands in successive upheavals. He doesn’t want the Ascomanni to be one more example of the same. He thinks Aisen is his solution to all of that.”
“And you agree?”
“I don’t,” Krin admitted. “Aisen on his own won’t be able to control the Ascomanni when we take the island.”
“Aisen alone could not control them, but Aisen backed up by a company of the finest soldiers of the Sigil Corps could,” Ledrin said, completing the logical inference.
“He could. Logaeir doesn’t want the Ascomanni to remain what they are right now. I think he dreams of something not unlike an extension of the Sigil Corps based in An Innis. Aisen could make that happen.”
“And afterwards you intend to help us in our current conflict, and the Ascomanni don’t want anything in return?”
“A few men to help Aisen now and a trade agreement once he is the ruler of An Innis,” Krin answered. “There is great wealth trapped in An Innis. We won’t need payment for helping in Nar Edor, just the means to convert our trade goods into coin.”
Ledrin paused for a moment, ending his series of rapid questions. Krin knew the commander was considering his options and making a decision, but he could not read anything on Ledrin’s face.
“You understand of course that I would never be able to convince the other commanders to accept what you are proposing,” Ledrin said.
Krin started to argue but Ledrin cut him off. “You need to return to An Innis. I can give you three days. If you and your crew are not gone by then, you won’t be leaving of your own accord, if at all.”
“This is a mistake….” Krin started to argue.
“Three days, and no more,” Ledrin said. He seemed to want Krin to read something into this.
Krin smiled. Ledrin had not offered to help, but he had not specifically rejected the request either. It was no coincidence that he had given three days for Oren and Ruach to report to their new captain, and that he was now giving Krin those very same three days to make his preparations to leave. Krin was more than willing to take this as his answer.
“Three days should be enough,” he agreed.
***
Edryd’s afternoon had been consumed by his efforts combing through the woods, hunting and looking for food. He was now enjoying the success of those efforts—a snared rabbit; skinned, gutted, and cooked over a fire beside his simple shelter, which he had built far away from the ruined structures of the ancient city.
He had been forced to travel closer to the coastline in order to find a place to hunt. The animals, he had discovered, were avoiding the forests and the Ruins in particular. The dominance of the towering trees prevented the development of undergrowth, leaving little cover and almost nothing for a large animal to forage on. Edryd suspected that the wild creatures of the forest also felt some of what he did whenever he approached too close to the orphic chamber and the enormity of the featureless enigmatic towers that channeled disrupted currents of arcane energy in that place.
What he experienced that first morning had been enough to convince him to keep his distance. Or at least it had for the rest of that first day. At the end of each subsequent day (this would now mark the fourth consecutive evening) Edryd returned to the center of the city, inexplicably drawn towards the source of the disrupted energies.
Feeling a pleasant contentment, which he attributed to having his belly full of the cooked rabbit, Edryd left his fire behind and started moving towards the ruins. He made occasional explorations as he travelled, so that it took a little longer than what would ordinarily have been needed to reach his destination. When he did arrive once more at the center of the ruined city, Edryd lowered himself onto the ground, sitting just inside the edge of the encirclement. As he sat there, he tried to reason out the purpose of the site. There were no displacements, a shaper was apparently required to activate the stone towers, but Edryd could sense the immense potential that could be harnessed within this location. He could discern only one thing; this place was broken, and it would break anyone who tried to avail themselves of its corrupted power.
His perceptions had grown no stronger despite days of practice, but he was getting better at recognizing the patterns for what they were when he felt them. Concentrating, as he was presently doing, brought a clarity which expanded the range at which he could sense the world through changes in the dark, and so he felt the approach at a great distance. Something, passing through the boundaries of the ruins, was moving in Edryd’s direction. He recognized the pattern of displacement that had drawn his attention. It was Aed Seoras.
Edryd patiently waited as he tracked the shaper’s progress, trusting that his own unique ability was preventing Seoras from doing the reverse. Seoras wouldn’t know yet that Edryd was here, but it was obvious that he was searching for his student.
“I thought you would be here,” Seoras said when he reached the encirclement of towers.
“What is this place?” Edryd asked. He had been puzzling over it for some time now, and his impatience had grown by the day.
His teacher’s answer was a disappointment. “I don’t know,” he said. “I have studied it for years, and the only thing I can say with confidence, is that it is old.”
“That’s… incredibly underwhelming. You know more than that. You said before that this place predates the last age.”
“It does, and by several thousand years at least.”
Edryd had been thinking of it as a thousand years old and had been having trouble with that. Adding a few extra thousand years put it that much further beyond his comprehension.
“As near as I can tell,” Seoras continued, “it was built at the dawn of the age of sorcery, created by a people who sought to imitate the achievements of the first men.”
Edryd didn’t want to admit that he lacked even a basic understanding of the subjects Seoras was discussing, and so comprehended very little of this, but Seoras could see it in the eyes of his student.
“Let’s go inside, there are panels in the chamber that give an answer or two,” he said.
Edryd hesitated. He had been down there once before, and felt then as if he had barely escaped the darkness in the chamber. The evening was already fading and he had no desire to go through this again, particularly not at night.
“I have a camp not far from here,” Edryd hedged, “we should at least get something to light our way.”
“No need for that,” Seoras said. He extended his arms out in front of his chest and cupped his hands together. A blue white light leaked out of gaps between his fingers, and when Seoras removed his hands, he revealed a sphere from which emanated a light that had no apparent source. It rose a little higher in the air once it was thus freed from confinement, and as Edryd looked on, it remained in front of Seoras, suspended in place.
“A trick that I have been holding in reserve,” he said, hoping that Edryd would be impressed. Seoras had shown far more powerful ways in which to shape the dark, but none of those shared the dramatic visual impact of this one, serving as a simple and unquestionable demonstration of a shaper’s power.
Edryd wasn’t so much impressed as he was startled. He had seen a variation of this kind of light once before. It had emanated from the Sigil Sword of House Edorin, just before Edryd had used it to kill his brother. The recognition on Edryd’s face must have read in a way that led Seoras to believe that he had in fact properly amazed his pupil, for he walked happily as he moved towards the descending stone steps, with the ball of light smoothly advancing ahead of him.
Seoras proceeded without the slightest hint of apprehension. Edryd couldn’t understand that. If his teacher felt the pressures concentrated in this place, it should have unsettled him. Unwilling to show his own fear, Edryd followed behind Seoras, a few steps behind the dark-tempered shaper. The light from the sphere lit everything brightly, making this a much diff
erent experience from his original exploration, and Edryd made his way down the steps much faster this time.
When they reached the bottom, Edryd could see that the landing he had reached before was part of a raised dais, a flat circular area in the center of the chamber. On one edge, a broad shallow basin, its surface dark and discolored, was carved into the floor. Edryd took a wide path around it, choosing not to make any assumptions. Seoras was a good distance away now, having already stepped down from the dais, and afterwards continuing on straight across the uneven ground beyond the platform before eventually reaching the outer edge of this unnatural cavern. He was staring at a panel carved into the rock that seemed to confirm what Edryd had tried not to imagine.
Almost freshly carved in appearance, the panel displayed in beautifully detailed stonework an image of a wounded and dying man, whose blood was collecting in a pool within the basin.
“It was said that a Sigil Warrior was never any more powerful than he was when he faced his death,” Seoras said, his voice taking on added depth as it broke the silence and echoed through the chamber. “When the soul transits to the next realm, it opens a gate. That gate develops conditions in the dark that allows it to be more easily shaped. Whoever built this, I think they tried to catalyze those conditions with a sacrifice.”
“I think I know more now than I really care to,” Edryd said. He could feel the pressure building and he wanted to leave. Unaffected, Seoras showed no concern for Edryd’s discomfort.
“The next panels are interesting ones,” Seoras said, looking at two more carvings that completed a grouping of three that had begun with the depiction of the dying man.
The two panels were interesting, if rather more obscure than the first. One of them showed another man, wreathed in flowing energies, standing over an opening in the floor of the upraised dais where the basin should have been. The last was an image depicting the circle of five towers, surrounded by runic inscriptions. Edryd couldn’t discern any particular pattern to the placement of the runes, but they were not random. There was information in these symbols and in their positions if you could understand it, like locations on some kind of abstract map.
