“I wondered when you’d ask.” She smiled. He really was very fortunate to have her help. “I have heard mention that she placed it in a secure vault at a well-known bank. And I believe that the owner of the bank is on that list you currently hold. I would suggest you start at his headquarters.”
He raised his eyebrows. “The Reduvian Bank; Master Reduvi of Conmar?”
She nodded sagely.
The lieutenant’s handsome grin returned. “You are a very singular woman, Artemi D’Avrohan.”
He re-read the note again.
Gone to find stag. Back within six days. Lots of love, Artemi.
There was something hurried and excited about the writing. She had promised to see him the next day, but had not. And she was hunting deer out of season, which wasn’t like her. Something was wrong. Toryn paced the room for the hundredth time, and raked a hand through his hair. He had always trusted her, and she had never returned a day later than she had committed to, but this time was different. His
feet itched. “Cydia!”
A guard with skin like ancient oak and a multitude of gold piercings stepped lightly through the door.
“I think Artemi might have gotten herself into trouble. You know she attracts it like butterflies to a spear-flower. Take the men and we’ll begin a search for her at the northern end of the estate. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
Cydia blinked but was soon running to find the other guards. Morghiad had been wise in selecting the men who had once failed to protect her. Their own guilt was the strongest possible enforcer of their loyalty, and they had enough of it to last several lifetimes.
He stomped out of the study and down the hall to little Silar’s room. The boy was very close to his sister, and had a knack for being in
the right place at the right time. The door was ajar when he reached it, and Sindra’s soft tones floated from within. Mother and son were sitting on the floor, reading a book about mythical cities in the skies.
Toryn had been apprehensive when she had said she wanted a child of her own, fearing that the same fate would befall her as his first wife. But she had persisted, and the fires of Achellon had sought to give them a son free of any blazed powers. Toryn was very glad to have met her, and to have provided Artemi with her own mother for the first time. It had been so much less of a trial than her first childhood with him - truly a joy to raise his daughter again. He crouched on the floor next to them and grinned broadly at Silar. “I have a question for you.”
The boy was fast becoming as blond as his mother. “Is it about castles? I know what the biggest castle is in all of the world!”
Toryn laughed. “No, it’s not about that. But you can tell me later. I want to know when you last saw your sister.”
Sindra looked at her husband worriedly.
“Temi was on her horse in the dark. I think it was yesterday. Isn’t she going to take me hunting?” Silar asked.
He nodded. “Of course she will. Do you remember which direction she was headed in?” Not that it would help terribly. From the moment she could walk, Artemi had been trained to leave false trails and make herself virtually undiscoverable.
Silar ran to the window and pointed out of it, towards the north. “That way! Why?”
A thought occurred to Toryn. “Do you remember what that farmer looked like?”
“Yes,” he nodded enthusiastically, “He was so tall, he’d be taller even than you, daddy.”
“Do you remember what colour his hair was?”
Silar pulled a face. “I think it was black. But then everything was dark.”
Toryn frowned. The description didn’t narrow down the possible list of suspects especially. There were hundreds of tall, blackhaired men in the world. The king certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to visit her now, and that thought made him all the more concerned for Artemi’s wellbeing. It would take the best part of a week to scour the entire place with all the men available, including himself. He had no choice. He would have to alert Morghiad – no - Silar. He should hear of this before Toryn
was certain something had happened to his girl.
“Sindra, would you mind writing to Lord-General Forllan while I’m out? I want you to tell him that I am concerned about Artemi’s whereabouts. It doesn’t need to be any more than that.”
She nodded slowly and rose to embrace him. With any luck, this would all be a mountain of fuss over nothing, and Artemi was safely sheltering under a tree somewhere close. Crooked branches snagged across the dull sky, framing odd shapes of light like a window constructed by a mad man. Artemi crawled out from under her rather useless shelter and inspected the horses. Both were tacked up and ready to leave, but the lieutenant had gone on foot to scout the route ahead. She eyed the saddlebags on his jet horse.
The lieutenant had proven himself worthy of trust, ignoring a multitude of opportunities to silence or kill her, and she was convinced that his loyalties lay firmly with the
current king. There was still the matter of his identity that prodded at her curiosity. Artemi reached over to the mighty black horse and stroked its silken fur gently. Like its owner, it had quite a few battle scars of its own. It was probably a blood horse, she considered, to have survived such injuries.
The animal’s noisy breath condensed heavily in the cold air, each exhalation sounding like rushes of roaring fire. Blood horses were very expensive, since the science was so unpredictable, and they tended to hail from the best bloodlines. The lieutenant certainly came from nobility. His peculiar obsession with bathing was evidence enough of that.
She ran her hands over the pockets behind the saddle. Yesterday, she had observed him writing a letter, which he had
sealed with his own stamp. Artemi had spent many hours learning the sigils of the Great Houses, and she could almost certainly identify his family from a personal crest. Her hand came across something small and stone-like in the lowest pocket. She glanced around for him and, upon seeing no one, unbuckled the clasp.
The seal inside was round and smooth, made from some sort of onyx or obsidian. Artemi rolled it over in her hand and held its carved surface to the light. The image appeared to be of two crossed daggers in front of a flame. It did not bear any resemblance to a House of Calidell, though she supposed he could have been from overseas. His accent sounded entirely Cadran though.
Artemi pressed the seal onto the back of her hand to look at its imprint. It did look
familiar, somehow. She had seen it on a letter somewhere... Who was this man? Hearing a bird’s panic call in the distance, she quickly replaced the seal in its carrying place and mounted her own horse.
The tall, black-clad figure soon loped into view with its characteristic grace. Artemi was very glad he couldn’t look directly into the mind of a woman. If he had seen some of the dreams he had manifested in the previous night, they would both have been more than embarrassed. It was his fault for being in them, anyway.
“Ready to go?” he said jovially.
“Whenever you are, my lord.”
They cantered off into the loose and buckled trees toward Conmar, and every so often, the lieutenant would turn back along the
way they had come and hang off the side of his horse to do whatever it was he did to cover their trail. Artemi still couldn’t quite work it out, or how he managed not to become entangled in his cloak each time. Eventually, they reached a hard-packed road, where he instructed her to hide her hair and face. He did the same, quickly changing his expensive green and black cloak for a plain brown one.
Taking a main route was not the wisest option, but there was not much time left before her father would start to miss her, and Conmar was quite a distance to go. Their horses entered into a hungry gallop, and Artemi struggled to keep her streamlined gelding at pace with the warhorse. She had never thought her own horse was particularly slow, but the disparity gave her another stab of irritation at
her companion.
By nightfall they had reached the mushr
oom-like hills that marked the edge of the Ascler Province. The horses were exhausted, Artemi was beginning to flag, and the heavy clouds above heralded more rain. “I would like to find a Sky Bridge sometime soon, lieutenant.”
He nodded. “The map indicates an inn a mile ahead. I suggest we make use of it. We might as well drop the headscarves, but keep your hood up and that flaming hair of yours covered.”
Artemi raised an eyebrow. There was no need to be rude about the colouring she had been born with!
Sure enough, a timber-framed building came into view between the two proximate
hills, its windows casting yellow light onto the road outside. Her companion pulled his hood up to shade his face and dismounted.
A rotund innkeeper sidled out of a well-rotted door to meet them. “Good evening, my lord and lady.” His voice bubbled with a not insignificant amount of alcohol. “May I take your mounts to the stables?”
“My horse has something of a temperament problem with strangers. I will take him round, if you wouldn’t mind looking after the lady’s?”
The fat man nodded and trotted to help Artemi from her gelding. Before long, the two men had returned and Harvin, as he named himself, led them to the tavern lounge.
The lieutenant wrapped an arm tightly around Artemi as they stepped through the
door, which prompted her to very nearly hit him. Who was he to think he could lay a hand on her whenever he liked? She tried to shake him off, but he whispered a harsh, “Don’t fight!” and gripped even harder.
The bar was full of drunken, overweight and under-washed men. Harvin did not seem to notice that several of them were brawling roughly in one corner. Ale soaked the entire floor in spite of its thick sawdust covering and, by the smell of it, no one had cleaned it in months. Artemi tried to keep her gaze firmly fixed to the revolting floor, but was repeatedly distracted by the hooked and reddened faces of the patrons. The bar counter was filled with empty tankards and half-chewed bones. Harvin swept some of them aside and plopped his guest register down on the wet surface.
“Nights?”
he asked plainly.
“Just one,” the lieutenant said in low tones.
The innkeeper grunted and placed a cross in his book. “Name?”
“Kalad Dohsal, and my wife here is Tala.”
Wife? He didn’t intend for them to share a room, surely?
Harvin scrawled the names in unintelligible writing and snapped the book shut. “Follow me.”
They stepped over two unconscious customers on the stairs, and worked their way up to the top floor. The upper hallway leaned at an odd angle, which forced Artemi’s ‘husband’ to release her. Every single board she stepped upon appeared to make an incredible racket, in spite of her attempts to correctly weight each footfall. Making a quiet escape from here would not be easy.
The innkeeper opened the door to a small, dusty room under the eaves and lit a token candle. It looked as if someone had recently changed the bed sheets, which was something to be glad for. “Water’s in the jug on the cabinet,” he said gruffly. “Privy’s at the end of the hall. Call me if you need anything.” And then he stomped back down the groaning stairs.
Artemi locked her friend’s green eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “Wife?”
He smiled mischievously. “You’re not to leave my sight. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
What was the point of renting a room at an inn if you were only going to sleep on
hard boards? She didn’t argue, however. Even a mouse-infested bed looked inviting after their journey. Artemi peeled off her top layer of clothes and stretched out on the lumpy mattress. It was so very comfortable after the prodding roots and twigs of the woodland. She knew she needed to wash before she slept, but weariness swiftly enveloped that idea in its black embrace.
Her eyes snapped open in the darkness. Something in the air felt misplaced. Artemi clenched her jaw; the fires had surely decided she was unworthy of a good night’s sleep. Without moving anything but her eyes, she scanned every shadow in the room and strained her ears to listen. It seemed to be clear. She leaned over the side of the bed, to where the lieutenant was sleeping, and touched his bare arm gently. The man instantly awoke, though she held a finger against her mouth to indicate silence. Puzzlement crossed his features as he reached for his sword. They waited quietly for several minutes, her veins knotting progressively with each one that passed.
He began to speak “Wh-”
She signalled for the man to shut up. Just then, something in the immediate hallway creaked. The lieutenant lost no time in getting to his feet, and moved to the source of the noise. He flung open the door, only to be assailed by a whip-like, black creature, which knocked him to the floor. It looked up at Artemi as she ran across the bed to help her friend, black teeth glistening in the moonlight. “I found you...” it said melodically.
The lieutenant shoved his sword fully through the eisiel’s torso, but it didn’t appear to notice. Instead, it leapt at her with its daggers spinning though the air. She managed to avoid two of them, but the third struck hard into the muscle of her right arm. Artemi stifled a yell and threw her blade to her left hand. How very unfortunate for this creature that she was just as good on both sides!
The eisiel continued its advance as she made a daring swipe that cut off its arm. The creature did not slow, and she made another strike, this time slicing deeply into its face. It had already pulled out more daggers with its remaining arm when, abruptly, its head spun off to the other side of the room, hit the wall and landed on the floor with a thunk. The rest of its body crumpled into an oily heap on the floor.
The tall man knelt to wipe his sword on the creature’s tattered clothing. “Those things do have a taste for you, girl.” His eyes landed on the dagger in her arm. “Take your shirt off,” he ordered.
“What?”
“If you don’t, I’ll cut it off you.” He looked entirely serious.
Artemi sighed and turned her back to him. She unhooked her corset at the front and removed the blouse, refastening the hooks once she had finished. At least her most important parts would be covered up, unlike Lord Exhibition’s.
As soon as she had fastened the last catch, he sat her on the edge of the bed and examined the dagger. “Ready?” he asked.
“For wha –?” Pain shot through her
arm as he ripped the offending weapon out of it. She growled at him, which only served to make him smile. Why did he think this was amusing?
The lieutenant deftly rinsed the wound with water and slid in a sarkha with practiced ease. The moment the blackened water had finished pouring from her skin, the injury began to knit together. “That’ll be your first scar. How did it feel?”
“It wasn’t so terrible,” she lied with a grin.
Thundering and clumsy footsteps ascended the stairs outside, heralding a sweaty innkeeper. “Is everything alri-” He paused to stare at the remains of the intruder.
“Eisiel,” the lieutenant said.
“Great fires of Achellon!” he
murmured.
“We should probably bury it or burn it before more sniff it out,” the green-eyed man whispered as he pulled a fresh shirt on.
The rotund innkeeper nodded slowly.
“Tala, make sure you bandage that up tightly. You should stay here.”
Artemi grimaced but obeyed. She felt as if she were turning into one of those spineless women she had read about - the ones in novels who only ever seemed to be considered heroines if they were victims of men. Blasted idiots!
Morghiad awoke feeling only marginally more refreshed than the night before.
At least if Artemi had gotten some sleep, they would be able to move faster for longer. She didn’t seem to have the level of endurance that came with increased maturity. He glanced over at the bed where she slept. She was watching him.
“We should move on shortly,” he said in a quiet voice.
Artemi sat up and wrapped her arms ar
ound her knees. An appreciable amount of
décolletage was on display without her shirt, but Morghiad would not be quick to alert her to it. She bit her lip and swung her legs out of the bed to walk to him.
Morghiad propped himselfup on his hands to address her, but instead she stepped over him and proceeded to sit on his lap. His entire body became paralysed, and in spite of his best efforts, his arms refused to push her off. He decided to think of all the horrible things he had seen in his life: eisiels, amorous mayors, the wielders he’d quenched, men he’d killed, Acher. Yes, Acher was a very good one.
She leaned forward, kissed his lips softly, and all thoughts of Acher flew from his mind. Echoes of Blaze Energy burned through their contact, and he struggled to fight the flames themselves. “Art-” he tried to say
between kisses. He placed a hand at her back to pull her closer, and she duly complied. Morghiad was aware this was progressing too far, that he had to stop it. It took every ounce of his determination and willpower to extract her impossible, soft body from his.
She looked hurt, insulted even.
“You’re far too young for me,” he croaked.
Her brow furrowed. “Am I? Do I not have all the attributes of a grown woman?” Why did she have to talk about those? “I think you are more concerned about what the king will do to you.”
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 49