Beodrin nodded with approval. “Very good, soldier. I must take my leave of you now. I hear Baydie’s voice on the winds.” He bowed to Morghiad and abandoned the slightly unusual-looking family in the vast expanse of the hall. With minimal prompting, the king had proven himselfa natural hand at dealing with Artemi’s brother, and with any luck she’d see the potential in him rather than the flaws. Women seemed to look for such things as fatherly natures in their prospective partners. The captain smiled to himselfas he walked down the corridor. It would not be long before the king and queen were finally reunited, and he could stop worrying like a father himself.
The warm oak of Baydie’s bar was a comforting and very familiar sight that Beodrin rarely enjoyed these days. He breathed in the smells of ale and hardwood, before descending into the buzzing melee of drinkers. The elder Silar, Eupith, Orwin and Beetan were in their usual spot at the left wall, and Beodrin bought himselfa tankard-full before joining them. “Evening, lads,” he said.
“Good to see you, Beo,” Eupith said in his sing-song like manner. His face was rather boyish for his numerous centuries on the earth, but his short beard served to mask some of that.
Silar leaned forward. “How’s our little plan going?”
Beodrin grinned. “You know, I joined
this army to fight battles, not play matchmaker.”
“Toughest battle I’ve ever seen you fight,” Beetan winked.
“Aye,” said Beodrin, scratching his sandy hair. “I left them both with the little brother. Let’s see how they do playing family for a while.”
“Cunning move,” the general nodded with appreciation. “You know Artemi came to me the other day, fuming over our arrangements for her duties. She claimed that guarding Morghiad was not a proper job if no one else did it, and that he’d probably try to save her first anyway. And whenI said I’d double her duty time if she didn’t learn to accept what she was given, I swear she had daggers in her eyes.”
The table erupted in various chortles and sniggers.
Eupith smirked a little before speaking: “Come one, then. How long before they get their act together? A month? A week? Sod it, I’m opening a book. And Silar, you’re not allowed to bet.”
The general scrunched his face up. “I can’t see anything about that anyway, and nor would I want to.”
“Right,” Eupith said, “I’m putting myself down for a month. Any other takers?”
Beetan guffawed. “They’re off to the Wilrean border in a few days. I wager he’ll be tasting her magic pussy within the week.”
The captain rolled his eyes in response. “Alright. They’re both tough as Jarhoan battle ships. Put me down for two months. Against
my better moral judgement.”
All eyes turned to hazel-eyed Orwin who, as Artemi’s lieutenant, probably spent more time with her than everyone else but Silar. “I’m not taking part!” he protested.
“Why? They haven’t already, have they?” Eupith whispered.
Orwin folded his arms. “I doubt it. But Artemi’s like my little sister, and she is still a girl. No. I’m not betting on that!”
“She’s no girl, Orwin,” Beetan smiled and made a cupping shape with both hands. “This is your king and queen. Think of it as a wager on the commencement of a new era in our beautiful country.”
“No,” Orwin said firmly.
Their discussion turned to matters of uniform, and Silar’s numerous ideas on how to
ensure the women’s bodices were a low-cut as possible. Beodrin could at least rein the general in on those ideas, but a part of him worried exactly what Silar would try to get away with. It was a good idea of Morghiad’s though, with more than a practical application. It would ensure a re-affirmed identity amongst the men and women, along with changing the look of the city. Beetan was right in his own way; they really were looking at the beginning of a new era.
Selieni stalked quietly through the leaning stacks of books, inhaling the soft summer air that drifted through the vents above. For such an important city library, the place did look hugely disorganised. She remembered wandering through the shelves as a child, feeling as if millennia of knowledge bore down upon her from each dusty book. A diminutive man with thin shoulders and long hair drew up in front of her. “How mightI be of service, Lady Mori?”
“And what is your name?” she asked as she clasped her hands at her waist.
He gave a small bow. “Dorlunh. I am keeper of the books here, and more besides.”
Selieni nodded. She had heard her father speak of him on a few occasions. “I’m looking for something on quenching. Do you
have any books about that?”
Dorlunh raised his eyebrows. “I can tell my lady has not been so unfortunate...”
“No, it’s not me. It’s for Lady D’Avrohan.”
The book keeper looked confused. “She’s been quenched? No one... I thought the king might have mentioned it,” he sighed.
Selieni folded her arms. “He doesn’t like to speak of it, and nor should you. It is a source of great shame for a wielder, is it not?”
Dorlunh nodded. “Yes it is. Are you looking to help the young lady?” Something glittered in his eye.
It went against everything her heart demanded, but some things needed to be done to correct imbalances. And her father had always sorted out the troubles of kingdom
without a second thought for himself. It was time Selieni did the same. “Yes, I want to help her.” Blazes, how it grated to hear herself say that!
The small man smiled with his thin lips. “Well, that is good. And it is good that you are the one doing the asking.”
“Why me?”
He started walking towards a set of shelves at the back of the library. “Because she needs another wielder to re-ignite her.”
What? Selieni had intended to do what she could, but surely the only fix would have involved kanaala? And she didn’t want to actually engage Artemi in conversation, let alone touch the woman. Selieni gritted her teeth.
“Here we are.” He pulled out an
especially dusty volume with a peeling binding, and handed it to Selieni.
She flicked through the pages, which seemed to be in a language she didn’t recognise. “I can’t read... whatever this is,” she said.
Dorlunh folded his arms. “Don’t your parents bother teaching you any Pre-Fordan these days?”
Selieni shook her head. “We all speak the common tongue now.”
“Yes, yes.” The keeper rolled his rather ancient eyes. “Well, to restore her to what she was, you essentially need to take her back to the brink of death – just as the kanaala who quenched her did – and then you have to rebuild her path to the Blazes. It’s very dangerous, and should really only be done by
experienced wielders. But then, there aren’t many of those around now either. This book only tells you how to do the first part; you’ll have to work out how to rebuild the path yourself.”
Pushing her to near-death sounded far more enjoyable. But surely all this was rot. Selieni had only thought to allow Artemi to feel the Blazes again, not wield them. “Completely restore? I thought quenching was irreversible!”
Dorlunh laughed softly. “It’s the sort of myth that becomes prevalent in a country that has banned wielders. Especially when there aren’t any left to do the restoring. Some knowledge is very easily forgotten.” His smile faded.
The wielder looked back at the book. “Do you have somethingI can translate this
with?”
The small man nodded and began walking over to a leaning tower of books, illuminated by a solitary golden shaft of sunlight. “Dictionary,” he said, handing her a smaller book. “I’ll help you with the tougher parts if you need it. But really you can only understand by doing. Some of the book’s explanations are vague.”
Selieni frowned. “Thank you. I’ll do what I can.”
“One more thing, my lady. I’ve seen it done once or twice before, and the woman tended
to kick and scream a bit. And Artemi can kick like a carthorse. You may wish to take her by the neck when you do it.”
The wielder nodded. Yes, a good bit of agony on Artemi’s part wouldn’t be a terrible
“Ow!” Artemi flipped over on the bedroll. “What are you doing!?” she whispered harshly.
“I can’t very well come into your tent to wake you up,” Silar said in low tones. “People will get the wrong idea.”
Artemi pushed the tip of his sword away from her waist. “Why are you waking me up in the first place?” She moved a little way towards the entrance, and noticed that the
topless general was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looked... panicked.
“I need to talk to you. Now.”
She grunted and pulled her red-gold hair over her shoulder. “Alright. Let me make sure I have more clothes on than you.” No care for their shame, any of these Cadran men! He turned his back while she hastily clambered into the previous day’s uniform. It didn’t smell terribly good, but before long, she was stumbling out of the tent door and affixing her sword to her waist. “Well?”
“Come with me,” Silar whispered.
Artemi would have wagered five gold coins that he had planned another ridiculous duty or ruse to push her into bed with his bighead king, but something about Silar’s demeanour was different this time. He stopped
under a weeping pine tree. “I had a very disturbing vision in my dreams just now. And it involved you.”
“What did you see?”
He frowned at something in the distance, before returning his ultramarine eyes to her. “I saw you kill Morghiad. You burnt him to a crisp with a giant ball of flame.”
Artemi felt all breath drain from her. “What?”
Silar folded his arms. “I know you both have had your differences, but please tell me you’re not going to do that.”
She shook her head slowly. “No. He irritates me beyond words with his arrogant, swelled head. But I wouldn’t... I would never... I swore an oath to protect him. Besides, I can’t even make fireballs anymore.”
Silar drew his mouth to one side. “No, I don’t think you’d do it intentionally. But something... I don’t know what it is yet. Just be careful with him around fire and other wielders, alright?”
Artemi nodded. “Of course.”
“Oh, and the next time you’re on evening guard duty you’re to station yourself inside his tent. Do you understand? Hovering outside a room made of canvas is pretty pointless.” Silar stalked off with a stiff back.
This was infuriating! Inside his tent? Did they want her to accompany him to the toilet, too? How long before she was ordered to guard him from under his sheets?
Then something occurred to her. It was true that she couldn’t make fireballs anymore, but she could still burn a man to ash if he
shared her bed. But that would require her to be more powerful than the king was, and when she’d felt his touch it had outranked her by a comfortable margin. Her ability couldn’t grow that much more before her twentieth year, surely? No. Besides, she had absolutely no intention of doing that.
She could imagine the smug look on his face when he’d finally conquered her, and how he’d parade his victorious selfbefore his countrymen. And she would not give her superiors the satisfaction of winning their pathetic battle with her! Artemi would be a woman made of ice: cold, hard and impenetrable ice! She settled back in her bed for the night, but her dreams were disturbed with odd images of fire and overly smug, naked kings.
Artemi re-awoke feeling fractious, to say the least. She wasn’t rostered for bodyguard duty that day, but Beodrin would still place her at the front of the column, as close to the king as possible. After hastily bathing, she dragged on a clean uniform and armed herselfwith the numerous throwing daggers and swords she had been prescribed. Artemi was quick to stow her tent, and soon she was waiting by Arrow for her orders. The woodlands of the southwest were almost entirely of tall pine, with thick bracken and soft floors. And the bright summer sunshine fought through the trees with some success, illuminating the spot where she stood.
Orwin promptly marched up and withdrew a list of postings. “Artemi, you’re to ride in the third division with Lieutenant Farpike today.”
She felt her eyes popping out of their sockets and her mouth beginning to drop. Had Silar really been that perturbed by his vision? Didn’t they trust her anymore?
“Do you have any questions?” the hazel-eyed guard asked firmly.
Artemi shook her head, and then began to feel relief. It was what she’d wanted after all, a break from being forced into the company of the King of Conceit.
She clambered onto her dun mare’s saddle and rode around to the back of the rapidly growing column, looking for the scarred face she knew to be Jarynd’s. She’d never even spoken to him before, but his reputation was well-known throughout the army. Eventually, she spotted his narrow form in the
four green stripes that denoted his rank, and went to join the kanaala and his men.
“Artemi D’Avrohan, good to have your esteemed presence with us today,” he said with his curiously sneering mouth.
“The honour is mine,” she said. And meant it. Lieutenant Farpike had seen a great many wars, and fought many wielders. He never spoke of the warrior who’d given him the scar across his face, and few dared ask. He reached over to touch her hand briefly, and then withdrew. “Yep, quenched as a rain soaked campfire,” he said.
Artemi blinked. Surely that was a little impolite? She raised an eyebrow. “You thought I was pretending?”
He gave a lop-sided grin and shook his head. “No, lass. General asked me to double
check, is all. And orders are orders.”
She tried not to feel too incensed. She had a debt to pay, and wasn’t about to renege on it! “I understand,” she said limply.
He gave her what could be interpreted as an encouraging smile before he spoke. “It’s not the end of the world for you by any means.”
Artemi nodded as they kicked the horses forward. She could dimly make out the king on his giant, showy black horse in front. Several banner men flanked his sides, but there was no bodyguard. “Quenching can’t be undone, can it?”
Jarynd’s pale eyes wandered to the king as well. “No. A wielder is like a piece of kindling amongst the flames. She can light herself or pass her flame to another piece of
kindling – a kanaala – but once she’s been dowsed the fire just won’t take on her.”
“Then how can she still kill a man by lying with him?”
The lieutenant smirked visibly. “You getting ideas, lass?”
Artemi almost blushed. Almost. “No,” she spluttered, “I just want to understand. There are not many people I can ask without them thinking the wrong thing.”
He laughed softly. “Alright. You know I once took a quenched wielder to my bed.”
“Really?” She tried to hide her surprise that any woman with eyes would have been his lover.
He nodded sagely. “Beautiful breasts. Eyes as big as moons. Ah, I miss her.” His gaze drifted a little. “Anyway. She told me had been
graded three before, and I suppose I had to believe her. I mean, the woman felt as cold to the touch as a river.”
Artemi was incredulous. “You didn’t know and you still...?”
The lieutenant grinned. “Oh yes. Well it was a service to her. I mean, where else was she going to find pleasure and good looks?”
Artemi laughed aloud. She was beginning to like this man very much.
“So, I suppose you want to know what it was like?” he continued. “Well, it was the same as sleeping with an ordinary wielder. Lots of fire and fun stuff, for me anyway. Girl said she couldn’t feel any of the heat. Not that I left her wanting. None of my women go away unsatisfied.” He drew his chin up arrogantly.
“But how could it burn through you and not her?” she asked.
Jarynd frowned. “Well, you know. When a man is – ah.” He cle
ared his throat. “When they are...”
“Yes...” Artemi prompted.
The lieutenant leaned over and whispered, “It means he is sort of... inthe flames with her if he is, you know... inside. And he’s still a flammable bit of kindling.”
She nodded, believing she understood. So her native ability would still matter in such a situation, though she wouldn’t be able to sense any of it. It wasn’t that much of a revelation. She’d spent her childhood believing she would end up in bed with an obese king she didn’t love. And now she was consigned to a life of celibacy, which was probably the least-awful of the two possibilities.
The march eventually stopped at the small town of Sochend, where Artemi found herself billeted in a small but pleasant inn room. She began to unpack her things in the woodlined chamber, when a dark movement caught her eye in the open doorway. The king stood there with his saddle bags slung over one shoulder.
“You’re here?” she asked, puzzled.
He nodded slowly. “Next door. Would you expect any different from those men?”
Artemi raised her eyebrows. “No. I suppose not.” What sort of game were they playing with her? Perhaps she had become another of Silar’s will-die pieces. She sighed. It was her turn to perform the most pointless bodyguard duty tomorrow, and no doubt new orders would come at the last minute. Beodrin
would probably march in and have her ‘guard’ Silar instead, just to confuse her even more. “I hope you have a nice outfit to impress people with tomorrow,” she teased.
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