The Sigil Blade (13 page)

“You think it is a bad idea then?” Edryd asked, trying to get Krin’s take on the feasibility of Logaeir’s intentions.

“A bad idea… no, it’s a terrible one! If someone could neutralize Seoras, I might give it some thought…” Krin, making a mental connection, stopped his rant short. “You fought Seoras a few days ago. If you had to, do you think you match him?”

“If you know I fought with him, you must also know how it ended. No, I am no match for that man.”

Krin did know what had happened. He was disappointed by Edryd’s response, but not especially so. He leveled an insult at Edryd anyway. “I understand Logaeir’s thinking now. It is a shame that you measure so short of your reputation, and that you are so easily defeated. A man Seoras broke in less than a week wouldn’t be any good to us.”

Edryd flushed with heat at the remark. He knew Krin was trying to provoke him, but that didn’t make Edryd any less angry or Krin any less correct. “This is not my fight,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” Krin agreed, “and the last thing we need is a man who doesn’t want to fight.” Krin stood up, gave a short goodbye, and strode away from the camp, shrinking into the darkened night.

The momentary heat from the agitation Krin had kindled faded quickly as cold air sapped the warmth from Edryd’s body. Seeking to stay warm, he pulled the ends of his too small coat tight around his body, and having no strength left to do anything else, Edryd curled up on the ground next to the fire and promptly fell asleep.

Edryd slept late into mid-morning the following day, when he was roused by the warmth of the sunlight reaching him through his blanket. It did not immediately occur to him, but eventually he remembered he had not had a blanket with him when he fell asleep. Bolting upright, he looked around in confusion. There were coals still smoldering in what was left of last night’s fire. Someone had tended to it in the night or it would have gone cold long ago.  Whoever his visitor had been, he had covered Edryd in the blanket. A quick glance around the camp site revealed a full water skin and a half dozen hard biscuits wrapped in a piece of cloth. Beside the supplies was a note, weighted down with a heavy bronze coin.

Edryd took the coin in one hand and held the letter out in the other as he read the note.

I hope this finds you well – I couldn’t stay longer and I didn’t want to wake you (you look like you needed rest) so this note will have to suffice. Our offer is an open ended one. If you change your mind, or you ever need help, you can find us in the same manner as you did before.   – L

It seemed clear who his benefactor was, if you could call him that. Edryd examined the coin. It was similar to the one from the night before, only this one, though it must have been from a much older mintage, was still bright and clean and had no scratches on it. The design of the coin was similar but it did not bear Esivh Rhol’s image. Instead there was a family crest inscribed with the motto: wisdom is strength. None of it meant anything to Edryd. However, as with the coin from last night, this one also had a thin piercing. Flipping the coin over he could see the same rough map of the island found on the Esivh Rhol coin. This time the piercing ran through a spot Edryd judged to be just south of the roadway he had travelled upon on his way towards town the night he had first arrived in An Innis. The meaning was obvious enough. He could make contact with the Ascomanni at the marked location.

Edryd nibbled on one of the biscuits but felt sick the moment he swallowed the first few crumbs. Realizing he had eaten nothing the previous day, he forced himself to eat a few more pieces. He also managed a few swallows of water, and felt better for it. Edryd stood, brushing away the small pieces of cold bread that had crumbled into his lap, but feeling dizzy, quickly sat back down.

Taking it slow, he stood up once more. Tying the biscuits into a bundle with the cloth and tucking them into his coat, Edryd grabbed the water and dropped Logaeir’s letter into the coals of the fire. He placed the coin into a coat pocket and proceeded to stumble out of the shelter and around the low hill that hid it from view. As he began working his way back towards town, he felt his face and found it burning hot to the touch but completely dry and free of perspiration. Edryd loosened his shirt, hoping that it would help to cool him down.

He tried another swallow of water but it made him cough and caused his throat to tighten up. He had been feeling sick for days, ever since he had been hit by Seoras. The damage was far more serious than anyone realized. Seoras had put Edryd in this fragile state, but the exertions Edryd had taken upon himself over the past day and a half had made things much worse.

As Edryd made his way into the town, true to form, An Innis was predictably quiet at this time of the morning. The few people he encountered all seemed startled, and filled with a fear caused by his sudden appearance, they hurried away. At an intersection of two wide streets, Edryd came to a clear pool, whose surface was broken by slow ripples which extended out from the source that fed its shallow depths with clean water.  Seeing his reflection in the pool, he now understood the strange reactions. His open shirt revealed the mottled mass of unsightly bruising. It had a foreboding appearance. His undamaged skin alternated between tones, appearing sickly pale wherever it wasn’t faintly pulsing red with blood and heat.

The stories he had heard about the Ascomanni and the contagion that left them looking almost dead, with flesh colored to reveal their accursed state, didn’t quite match his appearance, but it did call them to mind. Edryd knew there was no truth to any of it, but that didn’t mean the people he encountered would dismiss such fears as easily as he had, especially if they had known of his contact with the feared Ash Men, or knew that he had recently spent time on the mainland within the forests.

Edryd pulled his shirt closed, tried futilely to fasten his coat, and continued on, taking great care to avoid being seen. He did not realize at first that he was headed in the direction of Greven’s inn. He couldn’t go there, not if he wanted to stay hidden from Seoras. Feeling inside of his coat for the set of iron keys, Edryd was comforted when he discovered that they were still there. He had previously decided against it, but it was his best option for now. He didn’t have the strength to go wandering around looking for something both abandoned and unsecured, and he certainly was in no condition to try kicking down any doors.

Edryd travelled slowly, pausing frequently so as not to exhaust his remaining strength. He took an indirect route through narrow alleyways in order to limit the risk of being seen. Arriving at the back of the property, Edryd crawled through an opening in one of the overgrown hedges. He tried both keys at a side door and discovered with frustration that they wouldn’t engage. The locking mechanism seemed to be broken or rusted shut. Almost as an afterthought, he placed the palm of his right hand on the rough surface of the wooden door and pushed. The thick heavy oak door swung smoothly inward several inches. The lock wasn’t broken, it just wasn’t locked. Edryd pushed harder and the door opened the rest of the way.

It was immediately apparent that the home was not altogether abandoned. The interior was empty, completely without furniture, and the floors were layered thick with dust, but that dust had been recently disturbed. There were foot trails going in and out of all of the rooms, and several others that led up and down a wide stairway near the main entrance. Edryd knew he shouldn’t stay, but he was past the limits of his strength. He found a comfortable corner away from any windows, and wrapping his coat around him, he slumped into an inert pile. A moment later he was sleeping deeply, oblivious to everything.

He woke twice. Once just at the onset of the evening and again late that night. When he woke the second time he found that someone else had come and gone, disturbing the dust on the floor. This was evidenced by a fresh set of booted impressions going in and out of the room, which led to a spot on the floor beside Edryd where someone had lingered for a while, crouching down beside his sleeping form.

Whoever had been there, it seemed they had been hungry. The bundle of cakes had been taken, but thankfully the water skin had been left untouched. Edryd took a long swallow of water and began shaking. He could not stop the trembling. He felt numb with cold, but when he touched his face, Edryd could feel that his skin was fevered and flushed with heat. It occurred to him then, without much understanding, that he might be about to die.

He wondered if he had been poisoned, but if Logaeir had wanted him dead he would have just killed him while he slept, and Edryd knew that he had been ill long before he had actually encountered any of the Ascomanni. It had been foolish of him to leave the estate, and even more foolish not to leave with Logaeir. Certainly his situation would have been much improved in either case. It was too late now. Sleep overtook him, mercifully deadening his conscious suffering.

Edryd was aware of nothing else until the next afternoon. He wasn’t even sure if he was awake or not, but someone seemed to be leaning over him, taking a close look. The man seemed to be worried about him. Edryd’s heart ached with the hope that this person was here to help him. He struggled to concentrate, trying to bring the man into focus. Gradually his vision did improve and he realized that it was Aed Seoras. It was not worry that he saw on the man’s face, it was irritation.

“You understand your current condition is entirely your own fault,” Seoras insisted.

Edryd might have tried to argue that he had never healed from the damage he received during their fight. Seoras was directly responsible and deserved most if not all of the blame that could be assigned. Weak as Edryd was though, he couldn’t manage to speak.

“You should have just stayed at the estate,” he continued, and then added more to himself than to Edryd, “You are all but dead where you lay… such a damned waste.”

***

Aelsian felt troubled. He had not enjoyed a single night of sound sleep since parting company with the man who had called himself Edryd. The navarch knew the man to actually be Captain Aisen of the Sigil Corps. As the heir of House Edorin, Aisen had holdings in Nar Edor as well as others in Ossia as the son and heir of Aedan Elduryn. The latter was of particular importance to Aelsian.

Aelsian was influential in Ossia, and that influence was in large part owed to his connections with the Elduryn family. His position administering the Elduryn properties and business interests made Aelsian important in political and commercial arenas. His position as Navarch of the Ossian First Fleet made him important in military ones. Aelsian’s friend and master, Aedan Elduryn, absent for more than a decade now, was probably dead. If so, Aisen was his friend’s only living legacy. For Aedan’s sake, Aelsian owed to Aisen whatever faithful service he could hope to offer.

He had wanted to take Aisen back to Ossia, to the family estate, but it was perhaps for the best that he had not succeeded in that ambition. Preparations were necessary before Aisen could assume a role in Ossia without provoking those who would certainly fear him. It had not, in any case, been possible. Edryd had not admitted to his identity as Aisen, and Aelsian had chosen not to force the issue. Now that Aelsian was back in Ossia, there were men in whom he would need to confide.

One of those men was Ludin Kar. He needed the scholar’s advice. Ludin Kar had spent a lifetime researching and preserving the history of the last age. He had concentrated especially on those matters related to the now long dead, but once nearly omnipotent, Sigil Order. The ongoing and still evolving attempt to revive this ancient order, in the form of a military fraternity in Nar Edor, was being closely watched, as it was sure to have some very interesting and potentially far reaching implications.

Ludin had proven only too eager to meet, so that had been straight forward enough. Implementing precautions that would guarantee a private environment while also obscuring the importance of the meeting, had been a more delicate problem, but Aelsian had come up with a simple solution. He had invited Ludin to use a cottage on the Elduryn estate as a stopover point on a trip from his home at the site of what remained of an old Sigil Order Temple, to the capital a dozen miles up the coast to the north. It didn’t matter that Ludin had not been planning such a trip since it didn’t take much imagination to come up with things that the scholar could accomplish while in the city that would provide a cover, and it didn’t matter if it was noted that he stayed at the Elduryn estate on his way there.

What Aelsian wanted to avoid, if he could, was confirmation that the two of them had met, and at all costs he had to ensure that no part of their conversation would be overheard. Towards that purpose, he had left his residence in the Elduryn family home, and set out on his own in the early morning hours. To anyone else’s knowledge, he had gone on a hunting trip alone. Instead he had spent the day in and around the secluded cottage, spending most of his time studying the sword that he carried with him. It was awkwardly long, with no adornment or markings of any kind, but it had a beautiful clean form. It was pristine, as if newly forged and freshly polished, with no outward indication of what Aelsian knew to be its ancient age and history of use in violent conflicts.

Ludin Kar did not recognize the weapon for what it was when he finally arrived. He showed no interest in it at all. The navarch didn’t know whether he should have been surprised, but he was. Ludin was the foremost expert in such things after all. Not for the first time, it struck Aelsian that the man’s lanky build and nervous mannerisms did not quite match the image of a sedentary individual who spent his days buried in books.