“Toryn!” he shouted this time. There was no movement in or about the building. Silar edged farther round the corner, and spotted a charred patch of earth. It had all the hallmarks of a Blaze fireball. There were more against the wall, and this time they had bodies amongst them. One of them appeared to be a woman, and Silar steeled himselffor what he was about to discover.
Gently, one by one, he moved the scorched bodies that lay on top of her to the side. The fight could only have occurred a matter of hours before, as their skin was still warm. The sight that finally greeted him made
him want to empty his stomach. The woman’s face was unrecognisable from its encounter with the flames. Her dark eyes looked as if they’d been widened by fear, but her hair was dark brown. Not Artemi.
Silar left the bodies and marched around the rest of the building looking for clues. There was nothing obvious outside; clearly the intruders had been careful to cover their exit, if they had left. He withdrew one of his swords and swept inside a back door. The interior of the house was as silent as the Cadran tombs, and almost as dark. He threw open two of the giant shutters, illuminating the kitchen. Two giant pools of blood stained the oak floor. He stepped around them and proceeded up a short flight of steps to a hallway. “Artemi, Toryn!” The body of another woman lay ahead of him,
and he rushed to assess it. The head was some distance from its parent, but this time the girl was honey-haired. Likely another maid. Silar rose and ran between the next rooms, only finding more blood and toppled furniture.
He sprinted up the heavily shadowed stairs and into the bedrooms. All were empty and silent. Perhaps the family had escaped. The general trotted back down the stairs and to the remains outside. Most of the men in black and green had been killed with a single, sharpangled slice. Even with the added complication of half-healed neck stumps, it looked very much like Artemi’s work: neat, precise and swift.
A noise in the distance stole his attention, and he stood to look around for its source. It came again - a cry from the woods at the top of the rise. Not caring if it was a trap, Silar sprinted to the origin of the sound with his sword in hand. He hurtled into the trees and looked about him. “Show yourself!” His voice was flattened and absorbed by the dense undergrowth.
A groan reached his ears, and it was definitely from a man. Silar followed it to a broad ring of trees, skirted by heavy shrubs and cover.
Something moved against one of the trees. “Silar!” a man covered almost entirely in branches, save for his head, shouted at him. His golden adornments and dark skin marked him out as Cydia. “Bloody Blazes, amI glad to see you here! Will you get me off this infernal trunk?”
Silar paced swiftly to him and cut his
bonds, which appeared to have been made from the man’s own clothing. “What happened here?” Silar asked gravely.
The soldier brushed his camouflage from his body and stood up. “Artemi! That’s what bloody-well happened!” he growled, “She caught sight of those sham soldiers out there and before I know it I’ve been knockedout and tied to a tree! That’s the thanks I get for defending her blazed life for eighteen years!” Cydia stamped through the brush, toward the house.
Silar fell in beside him. “Did you see what happened to her? Where are the others?”
“The rest of the family have gone to Gialdin, didn’t Toryn tell you? No? Well, they ought to be safe. I only saw the last of the fight, which seemed to consist of Artemi getting her
throat wrung by an old friend of ours.”
Silar’s breath caught. “Was she alive? And what friend?”
Cydia grimaced. “Passerid. I don’t think he killed her though. Not even he would have acted in so vile a manner. He was being given orders by a tall man with brown hair. The sort the ladies would like.”
Silar bit down on his lip and gripped his sword hilt. He had believed his former sergeant to be of better character than this, but as with so many things, he had misjudged it. But Cydia was right, surely? Passerid would never kill her. And this other man must have been the banker, Reduvi. His vision suddenly clicked into place: the flame of Calidell. Reduvi would threaten to extinguish Artemi’s power, or her life. How could he not have made that connection? “They have her then, captive?”
Cydia nodded, and sighed heavily through his moustaches as his former cohort came into view. “I should be among these men.”
Silar grabbed his arm. “No. Your duty is not yet done. If we don’t get her back, it bodes very badly for everyone in this country.” Silar released him to gather his thoughts. “Why did she tie you up?”
“I tried to get her to safety, but she wasn’t interested in that. These men were already dead. Stupid, idiot girl!”
There was no time to be lost in mourning. “Cydia, some of the horses are still in their stables. I want you to take the fastest and ride straight to Cadra - tell the king what has happened here. Tell him it was Febain Reduvi.
And tell Morghiad I am tracking Reduvi and will send word as soon as I find anything. You must not stop for water or rest. Nothing.”
Cydia nodded eagerly. “My lord, you’d do well to start on the north drive. That’s the way they left.” He saluted, and then ran to the other side of the house.
Silar caught hold of Candor, hitherto happily munching on the lush grass, and jumped onto his back. The animal immediately lurched into a canter to the shaded side of the building, where Silar picked up the fresh trail of a few tens of horses. He followed the hoof prints for a mile on a road that led through the woods, and thence into the thick undergrowth of the woods themselves. Tracking the group was easy enough through this area, as the fresh shoots could not have been avoided by a
company as large as this one appeared. Silar pressed the horse forward at greater speed through the ancient, vigorous trees until the sun began to dip beneath the horizon. Broken twig followed crushed leaf after pressed soil, again and again until the sight made his eyes ache. Just as twilight had robbed the leaves of their colours, he came upon an open clearing. He checked and double-checked, but there the trail ended abruptly.
Silar cursed loudly. It could only have meant a Sky Bridge.
The sound of hoof beats was beginning to wear at Cydia. The sun had risen again, and the great walls of Cadra had only just crept into view through the trees. He feared Morghiad’s reaction greatly. Almost twenty years ago, he had made a terrible mistake that had ultimately cost Artemi her life, and the king had chosen not to punish any of her guard or Acher’s. The soldier pulled at one of his earrings nervously. He could still remember Morghiad’s words: “I am charging you to protect what is most precious to me. It is your chance to atone and revise all that has gone wrong before, your chance to be free of guilt. Do not fail her.”
If only she had not grown into a headstrong little miss with too much training for her own good! And it was their fault for
befriending her when they should have been nothing more than faceless swordhands. But she had so quickly resumed her identity as one of the soldiers, as one of them. She should never have tried to save them; that was their obligation to her!
The exhausted horse loped across the final stretch of open, dry grassland to the vast city gate. Cydia clattered through the iron doors and into the damp air of the wall interior, knocking over a few pedestrian travellers on the way. The darkness seemed to stretch for an age before the familiar green glow of the city diffused into the gloom. He pushed his mount on, past frowning gate guards and frightened merchants. For the shortest route, the sweeping roads arced up and down in a sickening, wavelike manner between the different levels. Cydia
gritted his teeth against the confusion of emotions and sensations to save himselffrom vomiting. He darted between the scaffolding of a hundred renovation projects, the small houses grew to larger ones and before long he was at the gnarled castle bridge. A strange sort of nostalgia flowed into him at the sight of it.
He dismounted and addressed the closest guard on duty - a man he did not r
ecognise. “I need to see the king. Now.”
The gateman gave him a frown. “What business does it concern?”
Cydia gave a short but exasperated sigh. “ArtemiD’Avrohan. It is urgent.”
The soldier’s eyes widened at the name, but they remained firmly on Cydia as he called to the other men, “Send-duty!” and then to the weary traveller, “Come with me.” He
was a lean man with narrow hips and thin arms that appeared too long for his body. He spidered through the courtyard and hailed someone to take Cydia’s horse, before stalking up to the darkened exit.
The corridors were just as long and winding as Cydia remembered, though some appeared to have been lightened with limewash in recent years. “Can we move faster, please?” he asked.
The soldier sniffed but broke into a gentle run - an easy pace to stay level with. As with the age-old code of the army, the men they passed nodded in the direction of the king. Some blinked in recognition of Cydia, though none would have known what his duty had been over the last two decades. He was probably spoken of as something of a disgrace
amongst them now.
They progressed deeper into the warren of grey stone, until they arrived at the arched doors that signalled the entrance to the library. Cydia felt his stomach churn at his impending encounter, and he pulled at several of his earrings. He took a deep breath before they strode into the tunnel of books, and drank deeply on the musty smell.
Morghiad was sat with his feet propped on one of the ancient tables, a broad book heavy in his lap. His posture over the tome signified deep concentration, and he did not raise his eyes from the pages as he spoke, “What is it?”
Cydia’s throat caught, and he let his guide speak for him. “This man claims to have news of the queen, my lord.”
The king’s brilliant green eyes flicked up at them, but his face remained stern. “Leave
us.”
The soldier quickly obliged and trotted back the way they’d come, back to the blue daylight.
King Morghiad closed the book and withdrew his feet from the table to place them on the floor. “Cydia, I can tell from her Blaze stream that she is still alive. But this had better be good news.”
”We – ah. Er, Artemi... she was taken yesterday, my lord, by a man named Febain Reduvi. Passerid was helping him.”
The king put the volume to one side and stood to pace a square of threadbare carpet. “What do you mean by taken?”
Cydia took a deep breath. “Passerid
did something to send her to sleep. She’s been kidnapped... sire. My lord, all the other men you assigned to protect her are dead.” His voice cracked over the last words.
The king stopped pacing. Every muscle in his body appeared tensed and ready to pounce. “Do you have any idea where they may have taken her?”
“No, but Silar left to track them.”
He thundered, beginning to lose his characteristic control, “What was he doing there?”
Cydia shook his head. “I don’t know; he turned up after the fight. But if he hadn’t I’d still be tied to a tree where Artemi left me. I tried to stop her, my lord...”
The king’s eyebrows rose and fell briefly. “That doesn’t matter now. If Reduvi has her then he has the power to bend me, and Calidell, however he wishes.” He began to pace again, hands clasped behind his back. “I have no choice but to stay here.” He cursed under his breath. “What about the rest of the family?”
“Safe. They left three days ago, headed for the coast.”
The king merely responded with a grunt, his features snapping into unreadable positions.
Cydia took another extended breath. “With your permission, and if you no longer need me, I would like to return to Corlands to bury the men and women.”
“Reduvi had the maids killed as well?”
Cydia nodded slowly. “It appears he did not want any witnesses.” The guard’s
comment soured his mouth; he had grown rather fond of Juleda’s pretty ringlets through the years.
Morghiad sighed heavily. “You are needed here. And those men will be given soldier’s burials in Cadra; they have more than earned it. We will do something appropriate for the women.”
“Thank you, my lord. They would be honoured.” More than honoured - each one would have broken down with emotion over it. If only they’d known they’d finally be vindicated in death. Perhaps he’d hoped for it too, subconsciously.
The king nodded. “I knew Reduvi was a maggot-ridden apple.” He visibly swallowed down his anger.
“Come with me.” His cloak swirled
around him as he strode briskly from the library and called upon the nearest guard. “Find Beodrin. I want all the lieutenants and as many off-duty soldiers as can be mustered in the Malachite Hall, as soon as possible.”
The guard’s eyes widened. “My lord?”
“Artemi needs our help. Now.”
The guard made a sharp intake of breath before haring down the hallway at an improbable speed.
They progressed along the shadowed corridors without conversation, until they reached the gaping stone doors of the great hall. Morghiad paused before stepping through them. “How many men did Reduvi have?”
“My view was obscured for most of it. I’d guess at forty men there, but there were probably more.”
The king turned, forehead creasing. “Artemi should have...” and then realisation came, “She gave herselfto them.” He gritted his teeth, turning away.
The partial light of the passages gave way to the dark glitter of the cavernous black and green hall. Unsurprisingly, a small group of soldiers had already gathered ahead of them, standing anxiously in the narrow pools of light shed from the slits above. More men began to swarm in through the numerous entrances, clothed invarying levels of informality. Cydia stayed close to the king’s heels as he strode bleakly to his throne. “Stand with me, they may have questions for you,” Morghiad ordered.
Only a few minutes passed before the entire room was a crush of Calidell’s finest swordsmen. Beodrin came trotting in from the
back, his relatively short stature surpassed by his presence and the regard in which the army held him. The captain was sweat-soaked and dressed in a ripped shirt from his recently broken exercise, his face and grey eyes severe with concern. He blinked at the sight of Cydia, and would have immediately known that his presence was a bad sign.
The two leaders exchanged sombre nods before the king opened his mouth to speak. “Artemi has been kidnapped by a man named Febain Reduvi and a small company of rebels. Passerid Collibry is aiding them. I imagine that they will demand some form of ransom for her life. Every one of you that can be spared will be deployed in looking for her. If necessary, I will turn this whole country upsidedown to see that she is returned safely. General Forllan is currently tracking the group, and I expect to hear word from him soon. But if any of you know where they may have taken her, where such men would consider a safe hiding place, then I would wish to hear it.”
“What is he doing here?” a sergeant asked, nodding at Cydia.
The king raised his eyebrows at Cydia, the shamed soldier, as an invite for himto speak for himself.
“When Artemi was rediscovered, I was posted at the D’Avrohan household to protect her. All those who had been assigned to guard her on the day of her death were there. And now, thanks to Reduvi and Passerid, all are dead. Except me.” The guilt of it made his ribs ache.
None of the army shouted that he ought to be dead, or accused him of his repeated failure. He wished that they had. Instead, the discussion moved to the places Passerid had liked to frequent. Cydia would almost have preferred to have been the villain rather than the incompetent ally. When the meeting was dismissed, Morghiad drew him to one side. “When you have rested, I would like you to rejoin the army here. Beodrin has the final decision, of course. And it is up to you. Toryn and his family will need re-homing now that Corlands’ location is public knowledge. You may wish to stay with th
em.”
Cydia was taken aback by the offer. Did this mean that the king had forgiven him? When he had just failed to protect their queen for the second time? “I will go wherever I can be of most use to you and the queen, my lord.”
“Then you should be here for now. When we get her back... if Artemi chooses to rejoin her family, perhaps you should stay with her. She is difficult; I am well-aware of that. But she would not have been so successful at overpowering you if it had not been for the training you and the other men so tirelessly provided her with. That training was for exactly this situation. Let us hope it saves her.”
Morghiad stared through the veilcovered window from his desk, breathing the
damp air deeply. Yet another thunderous rainstorm rolled over the city of Cadra. There had been constant lightning-wrought booms through the night, which seemed to be manifestations of his mood. Artemi, his perfect Artemi, had been stolen by that latrine scraping of a man.
He closed his eyes to check for her stream once again: still alive. Acher’s punishment had been far too lenient; Reduvi’s would be exquisite. His temper threatened to boil over once more, but he contained it. Morghiad stood to pace the room again, hands wringing tightly at his back. He hated having to remain in the castle, just waiting for news. He wanted to be out there searching every corner of his country for her, doing something!
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 55