The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  met his stare. “No. I have not. My father’s rooms are, of course, closely appointed in terms of grandeur but I’m afraid the decor is not nearly so... green.”

  Lord Forllan laughed. “Nor so poorly lit, either, I’d wager.” He brought them both to a standstill next to a grey mirror lined with a striped, bright green stone.

  Artemi felt encouraged. “This place is rather like a cave, don’t you think?”

  His eyes were very blue. “I fear great beasts will rise from its bowels, some days.”

  “Did I not just meet one, Lord Forllan?”

  He smiled again. It was a fine smile. “My name is Silar. I call you by your first name, so it is only fair that you should do the same to

  “As you wish, Silar.” When she uttered his name, the strings started up again, and this time they played a much livelier tune. A great harp plucked in time to the theme and three men now stood on the dais, dressed in grey satin coats. One of the men was considerably larger than the other two in terms of width, and Artemi could just make out that he sported a neatly trimmed, dark beard. The other two were also dark-haired but close-shaven. Each man grinned at the other before the largest opened his mouth to sing.

  The quality of the sound that came from him was velvet: smooth and rich, deep and soft. He hit each note with perfection for one verse and then gestured to his companions. The smallest one reprised the song, and the power of his voice could have shattered the earth.

  Next, the tallest one sang a verse, and his voice was playful rather than loud. The three sustained a rising note together, with winks and grins at their audience, and the band filled with an echo of their previous chorus.

  At this point, Artemi remembered that she needed to breathe. How was it possible for a man to do that with their voice? And was the larger one chewing tree sap while he sang?

  The singers commenced the second verse, teasing each other with their skill. The bearded man drew admiring glances from his colleagues as he sustained a range of notes on a single breath – a breath that seemed to last for an eternity to Artemi – and the assembled guests went wild with applause at it that only died when the singers began the final verse. At the end they took the last notes in unison, and

  fought to see who could sustain for the longest, at the greatest volume. The hall erupted in cheers and clapping once they had finished. Artemi joined the applause with enthusiasm, but the singers commenced their next piece as if they had not heard it. The new song was just as lively and fine, so much so that their audience clapped along to the music, if somewhat out of time.

  Silar settled his gaze on Artemi while she closed her eyes and drank in the music.

  She truly was something to behold. And she could offer him witticisms too. He wished deeply that he could touch that hair of hers. Her eyes flicked open and looked to him – eyes that were almost as dark as the night, but filled with fire. A man could light his pipe in them.

  “I see that you like The Three Cathenas. They are very talented. There used to be four but one left to join the Calidellian army and become a lieutenant. Apparently he’s very good-looking.” Silar raised his eyebrows and grinned at her.

  Her cheeks dimpled again with her smile. “They are a wonder to listen to. Tell me, can you sing as well as you charm women?”

  “Alas, my charming and singing days are over. I am speaking to you purely as a man would speak to a woman who was forced, on

  a daily basis, to wash his linen.”

  “Are you suggesting that I do my work under duress?”

  “Is there any other reason you’d wish to remove my clothing?” Silar felt very bad about letting that one escape. That was very naughty of him indeed. Artemi was blushing furiously, and she rapidly looked to the floor. From here he could smell the Cadran soap upon her clothing, and he inhaled it as subtly as he could.

  “Forgive me, Artemi. I’ve overstepped my bounds.”

  She flicked her eyes back to him and then looked out at the room.

  He continued, “Something puzzles me. Can you tell me what it is that the laundresses flavour their soap with? I’ve never been able to work it out.”

  “Purple wisp-root,” she said without hesitation, “It grows only on the plains surrounding this city - nowhere else in the world. Or so I’ve read.” A servant that read books? There was more to this woman than her cheekbones.

  “I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”

  Artemi’s gaze was following a couple who stood close to the king. Silar recognised Morghiad as one of them, but did not know the lady who clung to his arm. Morghiad would not be enjoying this sort of event at all. “You find him attractive?” Silar ventured, not really wanting to know her reply.

  “No. He doesn’t seem to have any humour in him at all. I was looking at the woman.” Artemi smoothed down her skirt

  unconsciously.

  Silar briefly enjoyed his victory and reappraised Morghiad’s latest admirer. “I don’t know her very well. What is it that fascinates you about her?”

  “Is she not the most stunning woman you’ve ever seen? She is... perfect.”

  “No. She is not,” he responded, “Remove the paint from her face and the pretty gown from her body and she’s as ordinary as the rest of them.”

  Artemi shook her head in disagreement. She didn’t seem to be aware of her own looks, which deepened Silar’s appreciation for her all the more.

  “Artemi,” he began, “would you see me again? I’m not out to seduce you. Well, not yet. I mean... it wouldn’t have to be... like that. It

  would be nice if we could talk again. Like this.” Silar tried to quash his nervousness, though he was not sure if he had succeeded.

  The smile left her face as if harried by a monster, and her eyes lost focus. “I can’t, please forgive me.”

  “Have I been too forward? I realise you’re still very young. I’m sorry about the clothes comment, I can’t help myself somet-”

  She cut in, “No, it’s not that.”

  “You already have a young man. Of course you do. I should have guessed as much.” Silar failed to hide his disappointment.

  Her expression was pained. “No. There’s no lover. I just can’t meet with you like that. I fearI have done too much already. I must go.” She released his arm and walked quickly back through the crowds.

  Silar followed her, calling for her to wait before he caught her arm. “Has someone hurt you? Let me help you.” He would be very angry if someone had laid so much as a finger on her!

  “No. I am fine. I do not need your help. Thank you all the same.”

  He watched her stride purposefully to the other side of the hall. The woman was a puzzle to him. Most were, of course, but she was a completely different flavour and several times as infuriating. Perhaps a chat to the ‘humourless’ kahr would help in working out what was wrong with his technique this evening. Bouncing an unknown off a known could sometimes produce an answer.

  Perhaps she just found him ugly. That was perfectly possible, though he was confident he could usually charm a woman into not running away from him. Silar approached Morghiad and his lady, who was gazing up at the kahr like a lost child. Morghiad, on the other hand, seemed to be transfixed on a stone in the ceiling and interested in little else.

  The lady was as Silar had expected at close range. She could easily be described as pretty, since her lips were good and her waist was a nice size. Her breasts weren’t too bad. Unfortunately, much of her looks appeared to have been drawn on.

  “My lord.” Silar bowed a little.

  The kahr’s green eyes snapped onto him. “Silar, I hope you are enjoying yourself.” Morghiad somehow managed to convey his displeasure through his monotone voice and expressionless face. He was the only man Silar knew capable of the feat.

  He smiled in response. “And who is this beautiful lady accompanying you tonight?” Silar bowed to kiss her free hand.

  “My name is Aval di Certa,” she purred, “I understand you are Lord Forlla
n. Is it true that you once fought an eisiel?”

  Eisiels were horrible creatures, soulless men sent to assassinate their targets and then kill themselves. They had no care for pain, honour or how their goal was achieved. It was sometimes said that they were the ordinary men who had slept with a wielder, had not quite died but had lost their minds as a result.

  Silar grimaced. “I fear many reports of that incident are somewhat... exaggerated. He was mostly dead already; I just finished him off.”

  Aval looked thoughtful.

  Morghiad broke the silence. “It was already confused - lost, perhaps. But though it might have provided a more considerable challenge for any other swordsman, it was very quickly dispatched by our lieutenant here.”

  Surely Morghiad was not trying to play that sort of game? He was not going to get away with displacing the lady’s attentions that easily. Silar cleared his throat and brought the subject onto something else. Was Aval staring at his thighs? “Morghiad, I need to discuss a matter of security with you. Would you mind terribly if I drew you away for a short while?”

  Morghiad looked to Aval for approval. The man really was pathetic around women for all his captaincy and sword-wielding and serious faces. Silar would have to give him

  some instruction on the matter.

  Aval released her prize with reluctance and melted into the crowd behind, and Silar could almost smell the relief on his friend.

  Morghiad eyed Silar for a moment. “What is it? I can tell from the grin you’re trying so desperately to hide that it’s not security.”

  “There’s this woman-” Silar began

  Morghiad rolled his eyes, though nothing else on his face moved.

  “Don’t look at me like that. She’s different.”

  “Really? They’ve all been different. Silar, it’s only been three weeks since you did away with the last one! I can’t afford to have you lose your position in the army. I need you to keep your promise, of all people.” Morghiad actually looked a little angry, if that were

  possible.

  “And I shall. This woman - it’s not the same... Every other woman appears ugly in my eyes now. I didn’t even know what true beauty was until her arrival. More than that - she’s witty and intelligent and we have a real accord.” Silar felt weak. “I want to be with her. I could... well, marry her.”

  “Are you sure you’re not getting carried away?” Morghiad’s stony face softened ever so slightly.

  “I think I’m in love with her.” The words fell out of Silar’s mouth before he could stop them.

  Morghiad remained quiet for a moment, examining his friend’s eyes closely. “I see. And you need my permission?”

  “No. I need your advice.”

  “I’m hardly the most knowledgeable in this area.” He looked about at the swarms of noblewomen.

  Silar followed his gaze, and he was sure that there were more around than usual. “You’re better at understanding people thanI am. She is warm toward me but... she is afraid of something. She won’t tell me what it is.”

  “Perhaps she is afraid of becoming involved with a well-known womaniser?” Morghiad almost showed a smirk. Almost.

  Silar pulled the sort of face he hoped would sufficiently convey his displeasure and innocence. He wasn’t sure if it had worked. “No. She had this look of fear in her eyes. And sadness. I asked to see her again and she couldn’t get away fast enough, saying she’d gone too far already and needed to get back to cleaning tables or something. What does that mean?”

  “She is a servant?”

  “She looks like a queen among these pale imitations of women. You and I both met her a few weeks ago. Red-gold hair. Her name-” Before the lieutenant could finish, Morghiad had grabbed his arm and was dragging him out of the hall. Silar knew to stay quiet - when his friend behaved like this there was usually good reason for keeping one’s tones hushed.

  Morghiad drew Silar to a stop in a small hallway outside. “Not her,” he ordered. “You can’t have Artemi.”

  “Why? Have you decided to keep her for yourself? You could have told me.”

  “No. She cannot be anyone’s.” The

  kahr kept his voice low.

  Silar shifted his feet a little. “Has the king chosen her, then?”

  Morghiad was scanning the area around him subtly, looking for hidden ears. “No. But you must not pursue her.”

  “She’s not secretly a man, is she?” Silar felt his half-smile slip from his face almost as soon as he had formed it.

  Morghiad compressed his lips and ushered his friend deeper into the corner. “She’s a wielder.”

  The contents of Silar’s stomach threatened to scramble right out of him. That pretty thing was a witch? She’d had her hand on his arm; she could have melted it into nothing before he knew what was happening! He would have happily jumped into bed with

  her, enjoyed the pleasures of a lifetime and then... then he would not have woken up. He could have ended up like the eisiel, wandering the earth looking for more hapless, idiot men to kill. “If you knew this then why is she still out there, free?”

  “Her power is hidden. No other kanaala has detected her. I only discovered this a few days ago, as did she. She had no idea what she was.” A tall waiter walked by, looking at them out of the corner of his eye.

  Silar whispered, “Doesn’t she blow things up just by thinking about it? How can she not know?”

  “She’s still too young to wield without someone like me. And since no one detected her, there is no reason to believe anyone could have told her what she was. I believe she was

  truly innocent of that knowledge.”

  Silar felt nervous. “Then why haven’t you imprisoned her? What if she... accidentally kills someone?”

  Morghiad folded his arms. “She gave me a promise that she would not unless they were a threat to Calidell. Besides, any prison sentence would be a brief prelude to death and I cannot justify submitting her to execution as an innocent adult. Could you send her to her death? Have them cut her hair? This woman you claim to love?”

  Silar considered her fine eyes and redgold waves for a moment. “No.” Her smile tugged at him. “You could have sent her to Hirrah. She’d be safe and so would we.”

  Morghiad shook his head. “There is something else.”

  “You’re going to tell me she’s from Achellon next, or that she can grow arms out of her head, or that she drinks pinh for breakfast.”

  “I believe she is more than a wielder. I believe she is... The Artemi.” Did Morghiad’s eyes widen when he said that?

  “Impossible. A small thing like her, a warrior? She probably weighs less than half of either of us! She doesn’t exactly walk like an assassin either. You could hear her stomping about forty miles away.”

  “She may well have the strength and speed necessary. Some women do – you know that. She’s not yet twenty, she won’t remember any of her training or any of her famous battles yet. But I think we can use her. It shouldn’t take long for her to learn to use a sword if she has that innate ability.” Morghiad’s grass-green

  eyes followed a serving maid some yards beyond.

  Silar had observed the way she moved around the table waiters, and it had been rather elegant. “A woman? In our army? And a woman legendary for being a wildcard, at that! How do you propose to keep this a secret? How do you propose to keep her under control?” Silar almost spat the words out, though he still tried to keep quiet.

  “I am still considering some of the finer points butI believe she will keep her promise. Do you think she will keep her word?”

  Silar considered her manner for a moment. “Yes, I do.”

  “Will you help me protect her?” It sounded more like an order from his captain.

  Silar examined the hilt of his sword –

  his grandfather’s sword. Silver stags decorated the handle where it was not covered by green ribbon, and it bore some scars from its previous adventures. He had made the same promise with
it as Artemi had, and he had promised to uphold the laws of the country. Harbouring a wielder was most definitely against the law. Morghiad really was stirring things up. “Yes,” Silar said solemnly. She was rather lovely, after all. He didn’t want King Acher getting his grubby hands on her, or his executioner’s axe.

  Morghiad’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “Good. How many armies do you suppose have a legend on their side? It will be worth taking care of her. We do not want her as our enemy, in this life or the next.”

  Silar had not considered the

  possibilities of that. “I suppose she’s one way to get into the history books.” He felt bitterly disappointed that she had turned out to be this thing. It was such a terrible waste. What was the point of having such a fine figure and delicate collar bones if no man could appreciate them without fear of being blasted to oblivion? Perhaps he ought to find Beetan and join him in the revelries. “Morghiad, how about a few drinks with the men? I can’t imagine you’d want to spend much longer around the viper di Certa.”

  Morghiad nodded. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

  King Acher looked out at his guests, ungrateful parasites as they were. Every one of them ate all his food and drank all his wine as if compensating for years of famine. Unfortunately, one had to maintain appearances when one was king and a grand, extravagant feast day was just the thing. And what better day to enjoy such a feast? Gialdin had been his finest victory, and was worthy of all celebrations.