The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  Morghiad looked almost angry. “Silly girl. You think I have space in my heart for anyone else? Do you think any other woman could rouse my desire after you? Honestly, Artemi. Sometimes your humility is endearing and other times it just makes you blurt out idiotic things.”

  She felt as if she had failed him. What sort of excuse for a woman was she?

  He rode closer to put an arm across her shoulders. “You are everything to me, and those other things do not matter if I can wake each morning to see your face.”

  Artemi nodded slowly. It wasn’t good enough for him; she was not good enough. But she was glad he had said it. She did not want some other woman stealing those mornings from her.

  They reached the camp at the top of the pass and the men made haste about their preparations. Morghiad went off to organise various people and bark a few orders, which Artemi suspected he secretly quite enjoyed doing. She trudged along with the two horses to a growing corral and led them inside.

  “Let me take the saddles off, my queen,” a young soldier said.

  She placed her hands on her hips. “I am not a queen!” Why did they have to keep calling her that? Well, she would keep denying it until they learned.

  The soldier had the front to smile at her. “Er...yes, my er- lady.”

  And she wasn’t anyone’s lady, either. But that would have to do. She tramped off into the snow, carrying the saddle bags. At

  least no one had tried to take those off her. Something caught her attention to the left. A broad-shouldered sergeant with dark red hair ran towards her: her father. He had insisted on signing up to the army as soon as he had heard of her relationship with the kahr, presumably to keep a close eye on the younger man’s behaviour. Her father’s attitude to Morghiad still remained frosty at best; she only wished that they could get along better. Weirdly, he seemed to like his lieutenant, Silar, an awful lot. Artemi wondered if he’d like Lord Forllan so much if he knew how many bed fellows the nobleman had worked through the year before.

  “That’s a sour look, if everI saw one,” he winked at her.

  Artemi was worried about her father fighting in the army. He was good enough with

  the sword, but he was too bloody protective to be sensible. “Oh, it is nothing. Where is Silar setting your lot up, then?”

  He took a saddle bag off her shoulder. “Our lines are over there. Listen, Artemi, I’ve had a bit ofa think on this epic trek ofours. About your man and... well, you could’ve chosen worse than that pretty boy. Ah – that is another matter. Anyway, I was thinking. I know you two can’t really have kids, well... sons. Though that didn’t apply where you were concerned. So he’d better not try it -”

  “We’re not going to have children, father,” she cut in.

  “Right, well... I was thinking, when the time comes... why don’t you adopt one of the kids from that orphanage we passed? Some of them will probably be like you.”

  Artemi laughed. Her father had always been so keen to be a grandfather. He would be a good one, she was sure of that. “Perhaps we shall adopt one day, and I would be honoured for you to be pride-father.”

  He grinned broadly at her offer; then drew his smiles under some control. “Yes. Well, see that the Sete’an lad takes good care of you. If he doesn’t, you just tell me.”

  Artemi tssked. “He is a good man with a good heart. I wish you would believe me!”

  “Until he does the honourable thing and marries you he’s going to have to work hard to impress me.”

  Her eyes bulged. “He’s not allowed to marry me! Not unless you are secretly a king in disguise and I a kahriss. And besides, what does it matter? It’s just a signature on a piece

  of paper and the exchange of some ridiculous item or other.”

  Her father muttered, “It’ll stop him marrying anyone else.”

  Artemi was exasperated with the conversation. Her father simply didn’t want to like Morghiad, no matter how hard the younger man tried. They reached the site of the captain’s tent and her father set down the saddle bags. He gave her a hug. “Take care, my queen.”

  Not him as well! She nearly threw the bags after him.

  Multiple tents sprung up in the snow around, and she helped where she was permitted to. Far too many of the men seemed to have forgotten she was a soldier, like them. Out of boredom she trod up to the summit of

  the slope beyond and took in the view. It fell to a smooth hollow that was entirely surrounded by sharp, pointed mountains. Not a good place to be trapped. The air stirred beside her. “Does it have a name?” she asked.

  “The map says it is The Crater of Souls,” Morghiad said.

  “That is an ominous name. The place makes me feel... uneasy.” Artemi cuddled against him.

  He ran his hands over her hair and cupped her face, raising her chin up so that their eyes met. “You have nothing to fear from it. Let’s go back to our tent, my lady.” Morghiad had always insisted on setting up his own tent, and this time Artemi insisted on helping him. At least her captain would allow her to do some work. They climbed inside

  once done and warmed themselves with a midair ball of Blaze. It wouldn’t be long before he convened a meeting, and she made the most of her private time with him by removing all her clothing. She had to change into her Cadran uniform, of course, but she enjoyed putting a smile on his face with her escapades. Every time she put on a new item of clothing he would interrupt by wrestling her to the floor and covering her bare skin in kisses. The floor beneath the base mats was quite disturbed by the time they had finished, and both parties had flushed cheeks.

  The meeting eventually convened in their tent, where battle plans were hatched and details meted out. Silar gave her his usual attentions, but was warm towards Morghiad. It was good that their friendship had endured.

  She wanted to know that Morghiad would have someone to lean on if anything happened to her. Rahake was another man full of smiles. Apparently he was sharing his tent with some blue-eyed recruit. It was good to see the dark man overflowing with happiness. Artemi offered her thoughts on some of their war plans, for what it was worth. She hardly had training in this sort of thing, though by the way some of them reacted she was a blazed expert. Worse, throughout the entire meeting the lieutenants and even the bloody kanaala kept talking about “the queen” and “The Lady Artemi,” but Morghiad simply let it go. How was she to stop this ridiculousness if he wouldn’t support her?

  She was relieved when the meeting was over, leaving her alone with her kahr. Artemi

  curled up under the thick woollen blankets and waited for her lover to join her, but must have fallen asleep before he did so. When she opened her eyes it was daytime and she was alone. Discovering she was still dressed, she strode straight out of the tent. There was something odd about the world outside. Something felt... unsteady. The ground seemed weak with every one of her footfalls. Before she knew what was happening, a blackswathed army poured over the hill from The Crater of Souls. They cascaded down the hillside, chopping Calidellian soldiers down in tens. This was wrong, it all felt so horribly wrong. She could not see Morghiad anywhere. Artemi did what she was not supposed to do. She reached deep inside herselffor The Blazes. They were so close to her reach now. If she

  could just break through and touch the fire she could use it to stop the army. A solid wall came crashing down in her head; it blocked her from the Energy. She hammered against it as hard as she could but her efforts were in vain. And so she took up her sword to fight the darkened army. Artemi whirled her blade around as fast as she could, swiping body after body out of the way. Men fell, but more men seemed to spring up to replace them.

  Artemi fought on, her uniform becoming soaked in her own blood as more men cut her. She was being overwhelmed. She would die soon, she knew it. Knocked by a rogue blade, the wielder fell to the bloodied snow as another man dived in to kill her. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the end. It didn’t come. When she opened them again the

  men were runnin
g from her, or rather, they were running towards someone else. Artemi climbed back to her feet. Morghiad. They were going after him, but her feet would not move to pursue. Powerless, she watched as they piled on him, pulling him to the ground as they had done to her. She cried out to him to fight back. Then the black-clad soldiers took his body up and ran with it. Artemi screamed after him. Why couldn’t she move? She wept as they sprinted back over the rise with her lover and screamed again as all of them were swept up in a black, swirling cloud. Why had they left her? Why could she not die with him? She collapsed into a wailing heap in the snow.

  Footfalls brought her attention from the ground. It was her father. She tried to get up to embrace him but could not move. “What has

  happened, father?”

  He studied her for a moment. There was a strange light in his eyes. “The captain has been taken.”

  She breathed through her tears and looked at him closely. “You are not my father. Who are you? What have you done to my father? Where have they taken Morghiad? Is he still alive?”

  The man in her father’s body knelt down in front of her. “I am who you need me to be. And yes, Morghiad is still alive. But you don’t have much time.”

  “Where is he?”

  The man brushed the hair from her eyes. “You will know. But you must employ swiftness to save him.” He stood and walked off into the snow. “The flower holds the key!”

  The man shouted in the distance.

  “Wait!” She called after him. He did not respond. She clenched her eyes shut, and then opened them again.

  Morghiad was looking at her worriedly in the firelight. Her whole body was covered in sweat and she felt utterly out of breath. But he was alright. He was alive. “I was dreaming,” she swallowed.

  The captain shook his head. “That was more than a dream, Artemi. You practically blew this place apart with your attempts to reach for The Blazes. I had to dam up everything in there to stop you, and nothing would wake you. What did you see?”

  She sat up in the blankets. All her clothes had been removed. When had that happened? “I saw them take you.”

  Morghiad wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Who took me?”

  “The army we’re chasing. The one we’re supposed to find. There were many thousands of them. They poured from the crater, cut through our soldiers and then they took you.” She felt tears pressing to escape.

  “I am here now, Artemi. And I have no intention of going anywhere.” He brushed her cheek and kissed her deeply, sending flames rocketing through her body. She pulled him as close as she could and reached into the burning fires. He allowed her to take The Blazes through him and she drew upon it heavily. Distantly she felt him form something from it. It felt so intense and being a part of him was... other-worldly. She wanted more of it. As if he could read her thoughts, he tore away the sheet that separated them and pressed his body tightly against hers. Artemi almost cried out at the sensation of all the contact, all the fire that ripped into her body from his skin.

  He moved to kiss her neck and she writhed against him, clamping his body to hers with her legs. Artemi rolled him onto his back and held him to the ground with her hips. She could feel that he was desperate for her, that he had to enter her now. She pushed herself onto him, hard. Morghiad kissed her lips as she did so, and gripped her at her hips. He pulled her ever closer, pressing himself deeper inside her. It happened slowly, but they did not stop or fight it. At last they were locked together, and there was no going back. At that point Artemi sensed uncontrollable release of The Blazes. Some of it flowed into him; through him almost. And she could feel everything he felt: the softness of her skin against his and the lightness of her form by comparison. She breathed through the pure pleasure of the sensation, and their bodies began to rock. She was not sure how many levels they worked through, but with each one she found herself screaming in the growing fires that engulfed them. She could not release herself from him, and struggling only produced more hunger in them both. By the end, Artemi could barely move against him. Every twitch of her hips produced pleasure so intense that she could not bear it. Or he could not bear it. The end was close now. Morghiad held every drop of Blaze Energy he was capable of holding and soon she would kill him with more of it. Artemi kissed him gently and pulled what she felt to be his very essence into

  her. She wrapped herself around every sensation that was his and every emotion that poured from him. When she had savoured it all she pressed her body more tightly against him; gently at first, but then harder. Brilliant white light enveloped them both in purest ecstasy. It was blinding, searing light. It was death; she knew. They had to be dead, and her last thought was a lament for the loss of the man she loved.

  The camp fire spat and jumped about on top of the damp wood that somehow fuelled it. Passerid was poking it absent-mindedly with his short-sword. Clearly his thoughts were elsewhere. To the right of him sat one of the newer soldiers, as young as Artemi and seemingly with halfthe maturity. But then, she did have the advantage of being vanha-sielu. On the young soldier’s right was a well-worn sergeant, known as Garadin. Silar gnawed off another lump of snow rabbit. It tasted chewy and unsatisfying. He was glad that Morghiad made Artemi happy. That was all he’d wanted; well, that and the promise of her safety. But it was good to see her smiling away during the meeting, in between the glowers she’d thrown every time anyone called her a queen. It had started off as a bit of a joke amongst the men

  when Morghiad had first taken her as his benay-gosa, but gradually they had come to believe in her as their queen. And the title was finally sealed in stone the minute Morghiad admitted he was head-in-the-milk-bucket in love with the woman. For all her complaints at being called queen, it amused Silar that she failed to see how her presence had galvanised the army. And the relationship had made a stronger man of Morghiad, too. Now they really had something to fight for.

  This particular mission had been set when a rogue army raided two cities in southern Calidell and twelve on the borders of Kemen. The Kemeni ruling family had pleaded with King Acher for help, but he had offered nothing and said nothing to Morghiad of it. Fortunately enough, Silar’s growing network of sources had intercepted some of the missives and he was able to get the message to his captain. The army had voted unanimously to aid the Kemenis, even though the countries typically had little love lost for each other. No one knew much about the army they were chasing and meditation revealed less. Some of his sources had indicated that it was made up of disgruntled mercenaries; others that a rebel leader had established it in a lair, hidden in these mountains. The descriptions given of the mystery soldiers gave Silar cause for concern though. Words like “blackened”, “twisted” and “dead” seemed to crop up often, and reminded him of eisiels. You couldn’t have a whole army of eisiels, surely? If only Artemi could remember her past battles, she’d be a goldmine of information on these sorts of things.

  Passerid dropped his sword into the flames suddenly, his eyes widened and focused in the near distance. “Bloody fire and Achellon!” he exclaimed.

  “What is it?” Silar clutched his sword hilt and looked around the camp. All seemed calm enough.

  Passerid’s eyes shrank back to their normal size, but his face went pink. “Ah... you don’t want to know.” He pulled out his other sword and used it to fish out the now very hot one from the fire. Then he huddled uncomfortably in his cloak.

  Silar relaxed again. Must have been some sort of kanaala thing. They could be a jumpy lot sometimes. He went back to chewing the tough rabbit meat and thought deeply about the rogue army. There had been no reports that they had a wielder, but one could never be sure. If there were eisiels in it, then a wielder might be behind its creation. That was a nasty thought. With any luck, Artemi would be strong enough to blast them all into oblivion. His thoughts were interrupted again by running feet. What was it now?

  Beodrin and Jarynd came hurtling into the group. “Did you feel that?” Jarynd demanded of Passerid. He
grunted in the affirmative. Jarynd blew for a moment. “Well don’t you think we should find out what’s bloody well going on?”

  Passerid grimaced. “Definitely not. It’s their business and I have no wish to see it.”

  Silar frowned, and then realisation began to dawn on him.

  Jarynd was practically hopping up and

  down. “Every kanaala and wielder within a thousand miles of this place will have felt that!”

  Silar caught his arm. “Er... Jar, I think what he’s trying to say is...” he cleared his throat. “You should leave them to it.”

  “And what would you know? Their tent is almost on...” His voice trailed off as the coin chimed. The wiry man’s face coloured. He hunkered down next to Passerid and assumed the same uncomfortable scowl. Beodrin raised his eyebrows at his friends’ behaviour. “I’ll go and see that the other kanaala... understand what’s going on.” He turned to go back to his section of the camp.

  “He could have set up a partition first,” Jarynd muttered quietly.

  Garadin looked around at the men with his ancient, knowing eyes and a grin. He had

  seen more battles even than Jarynd, and probably more lovers, too. It was strange that he had fought in King Acher’s name for years and had been part of some of the greatest victories; yet his loyalty had been so completely and smoothly assumed by Acher’s son. Silar did not believe that the world had simply tired of King Acher; rather that Morghiad’s desire to do the right thing had revealed all the faults in his father. Acher of House Sete’an was not a good king. Many of the men had awoken to this fact in recent months. But Morghiad would never allow them to depose his father, and Silar increasingly worried that his men might find ways of getting someone to do it for him. The lieutenant cast his mind to Morghiad and Artemi. He did not particularly want the image of them together in his mind, but he hoped the