The Seal of Falgarth
Trey touched the seal, trying to sense the pattern on it with his fingertip in the failing light. “Tis Falgarth,” he muttered. He slipped his finger under the folded paper. The seal was already broken.
The letter inside was written in the elegant script of a court calligrapher. He recognized the signature of King Ranton. The rest was indecipherable. He frowned, passing the paper over to Jason.
“What?” said Jason taking the letter and examining it. “I can’t read this. Can you, Hanna?” He offered her the letter.
Hanna turned it over in her hands, wincing at the words. She rubbed at her eyes, momentarily forgetting the swelling there. “It hurts,” she mumbled, bringing the letter closer to her face.
“Can you see?” said Jason.
“Yeah. Yes. It just. Oh. It hurts.”
“Maybe we can make something of it,” said Trey reaching for the letter.
Hanna pulled away, adjusting her position to get a little better light on the subject. Letters began to take shape. “I hate this script,” she whispered. The text was in French. For once she did not regret her efforts to study that language.
Hanna began to translate aloud. “Captain. Take Tarin. Enter the gates under his guise and destroy from within. We join you at Midsummer Eve. Leave none living. Midsummer celebration indeed.” Hanna squinted at the signature. “Nor—. Nar—. Not—.”
“Northal?” said Trey and Jason simultaneously.
“Yeah. That’s it. I think.” Hanna pressed even closer to the letter. “Yeah. What you said.”
“We must make haste,” said Jason.
“That wasn’t Tarin then?” said Hanna.
“Damn,” said Trey. “What do they plan?” He cast his eyes on the stars beginning to show in the darkening sky
“Midsummer’s in two weeks,” muttered Hanna. Hanna lowered the letter and followed Trey’s gaze into the heavens. “Are they going to attack?”
“We must prepare,” whispered Trey. “Yet we can do nothing tonight. Lie yourself down, Hanna. Rest. We might not get much of it henceforth.”