The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  He pulled a face. “Or what your father will do to me. Besides, this is not exactly the sort of place to be romantic.”

  She looked around at their somewhat

  dilapidated accommodation. “No, it isn’t. But tell me, are you attracted to me even in the slightest? Or amI so repugnant that my looks are only improved by muddy river water?”

  Morghiad desperately hoped that she would move from his lap before he lost his mind. “I am drawn to you, yes.” Telling her the full extent of it would be dangerous, and appear odd given their brief acquaintance. “But this cannot happen now. At least... wait until we are free of this place and that plot.”

  Artemi smiled cryptically. “Agreed.” She stood and went to inspect one of the murky windows.

  Morghiad almost sighed with relief aloud. Sleeping with her would be just about the worst thing he could do, as much as he loved her.

  They washed and dressed quietly, before descending to the stench of sour ale in the tavern. Harvin took the king’s money with ill-concealed glee and walked them to the horses. “Be sure to think of us again, my lord,” the filthy man had said as they left. Morghiad was certain that he would think of that inn again, but not for positive reasons.

  They did not have to push much farther before they reached the outskirts of Conmar, where they settled to plan their theft. As usual, it descended into an argument over what Artemi could and could not do.

  “...I can find out exactly where it’s being kept, which room and which box. All I need is some money for ale and a minute in the taverns,” she said.

  “Absolutely not.” Morghiad knotted

  Tyshar’s reins to the tree. “If someone works out what you’re up to and who you are, they’ll know that we’ve discovered them. Then they’ll take you and the whole bloody country will fall apart.”

  She came to stand improperly close to him. “I’m very subtle at such things. And how could they possibly know who I am, or what my significance may be, unless I shouted out my name?”

  He folded his arms. “Thirteen of us know of your family’s location, what you look like and just how important you are. And if the army has been infiltrated as Veradlin claims... it’s possible other people have that knowledge too.” It was very unlikely to be the case, but Veradlin had met Artemi in her previous life and knew exactly what she meant to Morghiad. “Then my family would be in danger,” worry lined her face.

  “Right now, we are all in it.”

  “There must be another way,” she said, hesitating, “Alright. Why don’t we stalk the bank today to find out who works there. Then tomorrow, you can pick a few of them off and ask them nicely where they keep address books. Assuming we don’t find Reduvi himself, of course.”

  Morghiad nodded. He wasn’t particularly good at interrogating informants, but it was the best plan they had.

  They returned to their rooftop chasing and soon located the stone mansion that was The Reduvian headquarters. Morghiad made a mental note to himselfto remove several of the country’s tax accounts from there. The walls of the building looked to be several feet thick, and the security was going to be difficult to circumvent.

  “This looks more like my kind of challenge,” Artemi whispered excitedly.

  He bit his lip. “I’ll be the judge ofthat.”

  She crouched close by while they studied the people going in and out of the building. At length, she pointed and said,

  “Him.”

  A tall, chisel-faced man with light brown hair strode confidently towards the main doors. He held a pile of documents under one arm and was escorted by a throng of town guards. It could be Reduvi, though Morghiad had been hoping for someone shorter and altogether less well-protected.

  “He’s rather pretty for a seditious

  renegade,” Artemi giggled.

  Pretty? Just how freely did she hand that word out to men? “We’ll follow him back to his home tonight and you can have a good gawp then.”

  She blinked at him briefly and looked away.

  It was several hours before the likely Reduvi re-emerged, still flanked by half an army. They padded to the southern end of the town, keeping parallel with his retinue until they reached a large, sprawling residence in expensive red brick. Reduvi headed into the wrought iron porch and the guards rapidly dispersed.

  Artemi bounded across to the roof above the only rooms which emitted light, and appeared to stop mere moments before her

  next move. By the time Morghiad caught up with her, she was already hanging upside down from the guttering.

  “Artemi!” he halfwhispered.

  Something made a cracking sound, and with horror, he realised it was the guttering holding her. Morghiad reached out with an arm to catch her, but was not fast enough. She tumbled silently, headscarf unravelling, four storeys to the ground.

  From somewhere in the house, a woman screamed shrilly.

  Artemi’s body lay motionless on the grass.

  Morghiad moved to climb down to her aid, but caught sight often guards running from their various posts toward the sound. Blade ready, he paused to see what they would do;

  they had no reason to kill her if she was already unconscious.

  Abruptly she sat up, had the presence of mind to unhook the sword from her back and threw it into the bushes. From his hiding place, Morghiad could tell that her left leg was broken quite badly.

  Red-suited guards surrounded her rapidly, and one crouched to inspect her injury. She was explaining her presence to them, but the only words Morghiad could make out were “running,” “friends” and “idiot”. He softly slid down onto a lower roof to listen more carefully.

  A tall man, clothed head-to-toe in scarlet, approached from the house. It was the banker. Reduvijogged into the crowd and inspected her for himself.

  “Hello, there,” he said, “It’s not often

  we have beautiful women like you dropping from the skies.”

  Morghiad took an instant dislike to the man. He could almost hear Reduvi’s greedy, lecherous thoughts.

  “What were you doing on my roof?” he asked.

  Artemi used one of her dazzling smiles to great effect, “Forgive me, my lord. Iwas training for the Spring Games and I noticed your gables had the exact configuration of the fourth trial. As you can see, I’m still something of a novice.”

  The banker laughed and folded his arms. “Yes, yes. Well, I hope you won’t be doing anything so foolish again. Why don’t you come inside so that we can fix that leg?” He hooked one of her arms round his neck and

  carefully picked her up from the floor, before carrying her into his house.

  Morghiad’s stomach twisted and knotted under his ribs. Reduvi would get his comeuppance for touching the king’s girl. He started to plan some rather nasty punishments while he waited for Artemi to be released.

  The sun had set and risen again before she trotted out of the front door. Reduvi embraced her in an overly familiar fashion to say goodbye, and she was soon on her way. Morghiad tracked her to a dark alley in the west of the town, where she clambered onto the roof and met him.

  “No talking,” he said as he handed her the sword and scarf he’d so carefully retrieved.

  Artemi obeyed, and they leapt back to the secluded spot where the horses had been

  left. Morghiad sat down against a tree and unmasked himself. “Did he do anything to you?”

  Artemi tore her own scarf off, hair tumbling down in rich shades of fire and antique gold. “What if he did?”

  Morghiad felt his anger roil and bubble, and he glared at her instead of speaking.

  Her defiance melted into realisation. “Are you jealous?”

  He stood. “No.” He paced about to re-organise his thoughts. Having her around was playing havoc with any sort of methodical approach to solving his endless pile of problems!

  She folded her arms and leant nonchalantly against the tree. “Who is to say who can and who cannot touch me? The king?” Morghiad grunted quietly.


  “It just seems unfair. Why should a woman be forced to be his property, bear any man’s children, even if they are heirs or kahrs or lords?”

  He wheeled around. “You would never be made to do that! Never! In fact, you would be expressly forbidden from it.”

  She looked confused. “Well then, what else could he want me for? He has enough wielders for weapons since his great legal changes. Did he just pick me out like a piece of furniture to decorate his rooms?”

  He changed the subject. “Did you learn anything about the address book?”

  She sighed. “It’s in a very hard-toreach place; dark, hidden from all eyes, violently defended.”

  “Where in the headquarters? Top floor, middle...?”

  Artemi shook her head. “It’s not in that building.” She was playing games with him again.

  Morghiad was about to lose his patience. “Where is it, Artemi?”

  She smiled, and reached inside her corset. From it she pulled a small, black, leather-bound booklet and handed it to him.

  “I don’t want to know what you did to get this.” He stuffed the warm object into his coat without looking at the contents, and grunted a, “Thank you.”

  The king resumed his seat against the tree, and Artemi slid down to sit close beside him. “Febain – Reduvi, that is – he did nothing to me. Not that I would have allowed it, in any

  case. I much prefer someone else. You are far more handsome, and even intelligent, than he is.” She brushed a stray wisp of hair from his eyes.

  Morghiad felt his ire dwindle almost immediately. He would have to kiss her again, he realised - kiss her and wrap her up with him under his cloak.

  A firm hand stroked her hair as she drifted back into consciousness. Artemi felt an overpowering sense of security in the nameless

  man’s arms, which was odd the more she considered it. King Morghiad would certainly not approve of her affair with one of his trusted lieutenants, and this lieutenant was risking his career, perhaps his life to be with her. Artemi turned over to face him. It was disappointing that, after all his displays, he had insisted on remaining clothed while they slept. If he reminded her of her relative youth one more time, she would scream at him.

  “I don’t want to go home,” she said.

  “Your family will miss you if I don’t take you.”

  She inhaled the woody air deeply. Artemi did not want to return to her obligations at all. She wanted to stay in this exact spot forever. “I know. Can we travel back very, very slowly?”

  He smiled one of his implausibly wellconstructed smiles. “No. And I have a mountain of business to catch up on when I return to Cadra, not to mention an entire plot to foil.”

  Artemi fiddled with his shirt ties. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

  “I need you to stay safe. And alive. You must remain in Corlands for now.”

  She grimaced. It was true that she missed her brother. Maybe she missed her father and Sindra a little bit too. “Alright. I’ll stay there until you come for me.”

  The lieutenant blinked in apparent surprise at her consent. She wasn’t wilfully contrary - it was only when he had stupid ideas that she had to disagree with him.

  It took them two-and-a-half days to

  reach Corlands again, by which time Artemi had fallen completely under her lieutenant’s spell. He could have asked her to singlehandedly fight an entire marauding army of Hirrahans, in the nude, and she would have done it without question. Well, perhaps one or two questions, but only little ones. It was clear now that she could never marry the king, and she repeatedly asked the soldier to demand the betrothal be annulled as he’d promised. Each time he had twisted his mouth oddly.

  Leaving him at the northern road was difficult for her, but she fought her tears and kissed him for an inordinate amount of time. Artemi watched him ride into a cloud of swirling brown dust and leaves upon his great warhorse, and turned to trot back to her home. If he wasn’t back within the month, she would

  go directly to Cadra to find him! As she ambled up the rise to the main drive, a flurry of guards swept out to meet her.

  Neleum was wide-eyed and gesticulating frantically. “Artemi! Your father has been tearing his hair out over you! Where did you get that skinny arse of yours to?”

  It was hardly that skinny! “I just... I wanted to go for an outing. Where’s father now?”

  The tattooed guard folded his blue arms across his broad chest. “Oh, believe me, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  As if cued by Neleum’s words, her father stormed out of the house and made straight for her. “I’ve scoured this entire estate for you, young lady! I’ve even had to send letters to the general! What amI going to tell

  him about your whereabouts? Come on, I’m waiting for your excuse. It had better be a good one.”

  Artemi had no choice but to lie. She absolutely could not tell them about her new admirer. “I wanted to see the town of Conmar. I’d read about it in a book.”

  “Conmar? Really?”

  She nodded. It was a half-truth, at least.

  Laothoe squinted his bright blue eyes at her horse. “Why is there a sceptre in one of your saddle bags?”

  Artemi felt her cheeks colour. “It was given to me by the... ah... Mayor of... somewhere.”

  Cydia burst out laughing, and even doubled over from his amusement.

  Her father held out a hand in an effort to enforce calm. “He might find it funny, butI do not. There will be no more hunting trips lasting more than halfa day, and you are to be accompanied by one of these men each time you go. Do you understand?”

  Artemi felt very much like bursting into tears at her imprisonment, but did not. “Yes,” she said meekly.

  Her father frowned. “Perhaps you’ve learned to listen to your elders on your little excursion. But, if I find you’ve hidden more from me, or you break my trust again, then you will have more than a blazed betrothal to complain about!”

  Mirel stretched her arms up above her head and walked over to the window to inspect the misty morning outside. Sunidara was a very orange-hued country, with its swathes of yellow soil and piles of rain-worn rock. She did not typically appreciate leaving the comfort and security of the Dekusu Forest, but boredom had demanded a change of scenery. It was time to find out what was happening in the rest of the world in this curious Age of Idiots. One of her pets squealed from the corner of her room. “It’s alright, Teffyn. I’ll set you free soon

  enough.” She strode over to him and patted the wiry, lithe man on his blackened head. He had been very muscular when she had first turned him; it was so unfortunate that making him an eisiel had so many associated disadvantages. Mirel examined herselfin the mirror closely. Her disguise was enough to elude brief glances of those who had known her, but any proper examination could easily reveal her identity. Her blue eyes could not be disguised at all, but her brown hair could be made light and her skin dark. A few more tweaks had served to alter the size of her lips and the length of her nose. Not a bad Blaze mask by any measure. The Daisain had been very wise indeed when he had hidden her ability from other kanaala, and it was one of the few correct decisions the man had made in his odd

  How could any man have been so foolish and so brilliantly clever, all at once? No matter, he was gone, and so were the times when she had been hunted for her obvious utility. It was a wonderful thing that a formidable wielder should be allowed to wander these lands freely.

  Her assassin’s garb smelled faintly of the fire-blossoms local to this country, and its black fabric was soft and flexible now it was free of mud. She slipped into it with the practiced ease that came with several millennia of wearing such outfits, and set about the routine of donning her weaponry. Her first task today would be business, of course. Her pets would have to be told of their prey and released to find it somewhere on this curious

  continent.

  Her second task was pleasure and, by the Fires of Achellon, how she deserved some of that!
Throughout each of her lives she had always dreamed of finding that one kanaala, that one man who could match her power and survive. It was not that she needed such a man; she just deserved to know of the pleasure that she was born to experience. Perhaps it was an impossible wish, though it shouldn’t ought to have been. And she often wondered if some price would have to come with it. No man could be all things: powerful, subservient and pleasant to look at. Then again, such things would not matter if he could warm her bed for a few years.

  Her pleasure search had brought her to the capital of the country where, it was

  rumoured, a soldier of considerable ability had resided and perhaps still did. His name was Hedinar, and he was said to be appealing, very appealing. Mirel was not about to get excited before she had met him though. That tended to lead to considerable disappointment.

  “Come on my little treasures of death,” she exclaimed to her pets. “Time for you to find The Fireblade!”

  The castle’s ancient iron portcullis clanged and crashed heavily in the bitter morning air, and it ascended for the first time that day. All around, the basalt stone glistened with condensation behind the guards that ran to their duties. Silar rubbed his gloves together against the cold, and blew into them. He hoped that the dark figure approaching had learned more than he had in his investigations.

  Morghiad looked travel-worn and sleepdeprived, but happy. Artemi happy.