The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  Morghiad gave her a small grin and strode off to his room. She halfthought he enjoyed being put down by her. Irritating.

  The following morning, Artemi poured herself into her freshly pressed uniform and buckled her bodice up tightly, before attaching her usual array of weaponry. A quiet knock sounded at the door.

  “Enter.”

  The king stepped in with something bundled under his arm, and wore an intensely elegant coat in black, crammed full of intricate silver embroidery. It hugged at every swordhoned muscle of his body with perfection. The

  man looked breath-taking.

  She was suddenly aware that she had failed to say anything. This was another ploy by her superiors! Artemi knew it! “Have I been reassigned for today?” she said plainly. Even his thighs were... she had to stop looking at his thighs.

  The man’s handsome forehead developed a crease briefly. “No, Artemi. Not as far as I know, anyway. I wanted to give you something before we left.”

  Was he up to something suspect as well? She nodded in spite of herselfand sat on the edge of her bed, realising she hadn’t bowed or curtseyed to him once. Not that she ever did. It was just another way she had of pruning his overgrown ego, but it irked her that he never picked her up on it. And yet she still had

  to bow to all the bloody women who traipsed through his doors. How was she to control his arrogance when those slim-hipped idiots were inflating his head with each visit they made?

  Morghiad closed the door behind him and came to sit on her bed, bringing the fine, swirling patterns of the silver embroidery more closely into view as they trailed over each bicep.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, looking concerned.

  Artemi reminded herself of all the bad things he’d done. “Hmm? Yes, fine.”

  “Good.” He unwrapped the bundle to reveal an oddly twisted sword in a glossy black scabbard.

  “That last time you fought me in the practice hall, you had me on the defensive most of the match.”

  He hadn’t seemed very defensive. Artemi remembered her most recent matches with him well, but then, she was almost always pitched against him in the training sessions. Yet another ruling of Captain Mori’s.

  The king continued, “You’re ready for this now.” He handed her the peculiar-looking weapon.

  Artemi withdrew it fully to assess the gentle curve of the non-steel and the odd angle of its form. Its balance seemed ever-so-slightly off too. The grip on the handle was good, and her hand seemed to settle into it perfectly.

  “It’s over a thousand years old,” Morghiad said in a low voice. “Maybe two. It was forged in Blaze Energy, and made especially for a fighter like you. You’ll find it

  unwieldy at first. But when you understand it, you’ll never want another sword again.” He smiled. Arrogantly.

  But it was quite a beautiful thing. “Thank you,” she said, feeling along the smooth blade. “Why have you given me such a gift?”

  “No one else can use it, and you deserve to reach your full potential.”

  Morghiad seemed genuine enough, but she’d been fooled by him before. Surely he wasn’t trying to work his way back into her favour with this?

  “It’s very kind of you,” she said warmly, waiting to gauge his reaction.

  He merely smiled and looked at the floor.

  “Morghiad?”

  His green eyes flicked back to her,

  making her feel as if she was a trapped rabbit in his lair.

  She took a breath. “If I had remained a wielder, would I have outranked you?”

  He drew his mouth into a thin line. “Yes, you would eventually.”

  “And you knew that? But why did you?”

  “The difference wouldn’t have mattered,” he said quietly. “But now... well, nothing is going to happen anyway so we don’t have to worry about that.”

  Artemi kept Silar’s words to herself, though she had no way of knowing if the general had spoken to the king about it. The two men could elegantly dodge such questions in their sleep. She stood and placed the new sword amongst her things whilst the king made

  for the door. “Wait,” she commanded, and he turned obediently. “The coat is good,” she remarked.

  Morghiad smiled a very dazzling smile, left the room to gather his own items and shortly afterward they were readying the horses in the stable yard. The king had by now donned his crown, and all manner of people had turned out to gain a glimpse of him from the inn’s periphery. The effect of his new attire on the women was irritatingly blatant. Selieni, a wielder who’d made her dislike of Artemi very plain, had hitherto appeared exhausted from her efforts with the Sky Bridges. But now she simpered and giggled with the brightest of eyes at her king. Several of the noblewomen who’d insisted on coming also mooned over him like love-struck teenagers. Artemi wished she could slap some sense into the lot of them. Instead she took up her reins and held her chin high as she followed him closely into the small crowd.

  Silar came out to meet them. “Sire. Artemi.” He nodded at them both, evidently pleased to see the king alive. “I trust everything is ready for today?”

  Morghiad nodded. “Let’s get to work.”

  They moved through several similar villages, where the king smiled, shook hands, gave encouraging words and made promises. Artemi felt more than a little worn when they reached the town of Siwend - a curious gathering of blue-painted houses and thatched roofs. She mused at how tired of it all Morghiad was, though he still appeared alert and content. At the oddly structured Town Hall, which was full of skew windows and

  layered with dark blue panelling, they dismounted.

  Artemi made sure she kept close to the king, as per Silar’s oft-repeated instruction. Blazes, but she was close enough to smell the soap he’d used to shave that morning! A rotund mayor came to meet them, along with a string of his underlings. He bowed and scraped at the king, before making the quite obvious assumption that Artemi was his consort. It must have looked quite odd to a mayor like Master Kiranno when the truth was explained: a small girl set to protect a tall and athletic king. Well, she wasn’t that short, not for a woman. Morghiad just made her look that way.

  The insides of the hall were packed with the town’s residents, noisily chatting away amongst the intricately decorated columns of

  the chamber. Silence fell upon them as soon as Morghiad entered, and every one bowed in unison. Did the man always have this effect? The king signalled for them to rise, which they did smoothly. She followed him diligently as he walked between the people, discussing their grievances and asking them about their principle concerns. Artemi tried not to allow herselfto be too impressed.

  A slight woman with a new baby in her arms was the next to gain his attention. She talked to him for a little while about her hopes for educating her daughter, and then moved forward suddenly. Artemi grabbed the hilt of her sword instantly, ready to defend the king’s person, when the thin woman held out her baby and plonked it firmly in his arms. The look of surprise upon Morghiad’s face was amusing to

  say the least, but it rapidly faded to curiosity. Artemi was transfixed. There was something about a battle-hardened swordsman holding such a defenceless creature, so small the greater part of its body fitted into one of his hands. A pity he would never hold her babies like that. Artemi caught hold of her thoughts, and realised she was mooning over him like all of the other stupid women. Idiot girl, D’Avrohan! She was not made for popping out anybody’s blasted heirs; she was made for fighting!

  She moved her dark eyes to scan the crowd for anything of interest, and found it wanting. All the people of Calidell looked the same after a few visits - dressed in muted colours and white shirts. Her gaze returned to Morghiad again, who had now managed to

  hand the child back to her mother and was proceeding to the next commoner. As Artemi passed the mother she overheard, “Good breeding material, that. Nice bottom, too.” And some ensuing giggles.

  Were all women completely brainless buffoons
around him? Her eyes stopped scanning the people. Something was out of place at the back of the crowd, but she was too short to see. Artemi moved towards the king until her shoulder brushed his arm. He looked down at her curiously, noting her distracted gaze, but maintained his conversation with the ironmonger in front of him.

  A broad streak of fire shot out over the heads of the people, straight towards Morghiad. Thinking quickly, Artemi launched every ounce of her weight at the king to knock

  him out of the fire’s path, and succeeded in flooring him. The gathering descended into panicked screams and the people scattered in all directions. She looked back at Morghiad, who seemed to be concentrating hard on the fireballs that continued to rain from above. Confident that his kanaala skills would protect him in the meantime, Artemi sought the source of the attack.

  Then she saw the only other two people in the chamber who weren’t moving: a woman and a man with a hand to her throat. She had to go for the source. Artemi propelled herselftowards them, dimly aware that Morghiad was shouting something behind her. Fire started to descend all around her, but she dodged the worst of it and the rest melted away before it touched her. Withdrawing her

  blade, she assailed the man who so clearly controlled the wielder.

  The pale-haired woman began to fall to the floor as soon as he released her neck, and he reached across for his sword. But Artemi was already ahead of him, and she cut a daring swipe which opened up the skin on his chest. The man met her next attack with his blade, rapidly thrusting in response. He underestimated her own speed though, and within another three moves she had him backing towards the wall with his hands empty.

  “Kneel!” she ordered. The man obeyed, and two of the Calidellian soldiers came to tie him up.

  “Are you alright?” Morghiad came to fuss over her as if he were the bodyguard.

  “I’m fine,” she said with some

  exasperation.

  He drew his fingers down a strand of her hair. It was somewhat singed at the ends.

  “Hmm.”

  “Is the wielder still alive?”

  The king looked stern. “Quenched.” He folded his arms, revealing a seared cut in one of the sleeves.

  Artemi’s stomach clenched at the sight of it. “They got your coat.”

  “They’d have taken more than that if it hadn’t been for you. Though, I don’t appreciate seeing my bodyguard run headlong into a wall of Blaze. Can you try to be less suicidal next time?”

  She grinned at him with amusement.

  A rather flustered Master Kiranno trotted over to them. “My lord, how canI

  apologise for this appalling display? You must know this does in no way reflect the attitudes of the people of Siwend. This man you hold here is Azoric Tanacet. I-”

  “Alright,” the king interrupted. “The Blazes knowI can’t make everybody like me.” He gave a quick glance to Artemi before looking back at the mayor. “Why don’t we see that everyone is calmed after the storm? And thenI think we should retire. It’s been a very long day for us all.”

  The mayor nodded eagerly and they headed for the door, where the soldiers were already offering their reassurance to panicked citizens. “You know I’d like to get myself one of those.” He nodded towards Artemi.

  Morghiad put a protective hand at her waist. “One of a kind, I’m afraid.”

  He deserved the glare he received from her for that comment and the presumptive touch. Utterly deserved it.

  As night fell, she was elated to have completed her duty, and left the king in the warmth of the hotel’s lounge to stagger up to bed. She wasn’t sure why she felt so tired when Morghiad clearly was not, but she did feel relief, and a great deal of it. A tall, blondhaired man was waiting at the top of the stairs.

  “What is it, Silar? Have I not stayed close enough to the king today? Not polished his boots well-enough...?”

  His stern look worried her. He towered above her with his Morghiad-like height. “It’s General Forllan to you while you’re in uniform. And no, you did well today. In fact, we should increase your duties with him while we’re out

  here. There may be more Tanacets about.”

  She was being punished for doing her duty well? That was hardly fair, surely? Artemi cooled her temper. It was all to pay the debt. The debt; she had to remember what she owed to these men. “Yes, General Forllan.”

  He blinked twice, and then nodded. “There’s another reason you need to stay with him. Today’s fireball was not the one I saw in that vision. It can still happen. Be watchful.” He turned to leave.

  Her former elation had swiftly descended into abject depression. “General Forllan?”

  “Yes?” The man looked just as tired as she felt, she realised.

  “Are you sure the flame you saw came from me?”

  He nodded and compressed his lips.

  Artemi shifted uncomfortably. “And yet you ask me to stay with him. Have you told him yet?”

  Silar shook his head. “There are few people in this world he can truly trust and he has enough to concern himselfwith. He needs you to keep him level.”

  That was not what she had wanted to hear. She staggered the rest of the way to her room, and flopped into bed without bothering to undress. The deepest of slumbers came to her very quickly indeed.

  “Artemi,” said a soft voice.

  She stirred.

  “Artemi wake up,” whispered a woman.

  Artemi opened her eyes and glimpsed

  the face of the last person she’d expected to see.

  “Selieni? Why are you in my bedroom?”

  “Because it’s the only time you’re not sleeping next to him or with the world’s strongest guard at your door.” The wielder twisted her long golden hair absently.

  Perhaps she’d come to finish the job that Tanacet had started. Artemi sat up and regarded the other woman levelly. “What do you want?” It wasn’t that she was jealous of the other woman’s ability, or her obvious beauty, she just needed to sleep!

  “I’ve come to help you. I want to restore your power.” In the early morning light it was clear that Selieni’s dress was of lustrous gold and crimson silk.

  Artemi shook her head. “That’s impossible. Just admit you don’t like me and you’ve come to dispatch me or cow me into leaving.”

  The woman’s brow furrowed in the way that pretty women’s brows did. “No. I’ve had plenty of opportunity to do that. And I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Morghiad. And it’s not impossible, just forgotten. Like the Sky Bridges were.”

  Artemi thought for moment. The woman had no reason to lie. “Are you in love with him?”

  “Yes.” Selieni said firmly. “Are you?”

  Artemi laughed. What a ridiculous thought. It was just lust. A great deal of silly, foolish lust. At least the wielder had been honest. “Fine. What have I got to lose?”

  “It will be like the quenching, at first. It will hurt. And after that you will have to rely upon me to rebuild what’s been destroyed. Are you willing to go through this?”

  Artemi didn’t like the sound of that at all. That pain. It still made her shiver with the memory - the sensation of hot acid poured under one’s skin. Against her better judgement, she nodded. “Do it.” It had to be worth the agony to wield once more.

  Selieni took a seat next to Artemi on the bed, and placed her delicate hands on Artemi’s neck. Artemi was glad that her grip was soft, and not like the rough grasp of Passerid. She took a deep breath in and out. Then she felt it - the too-familiar drag of her innards from within her body. It started gently at first, but slowly crescendoed into the most

  blindingly searing pain. She desperately wanted to lash out and scream the sprawling building to rubble, but all she could do was weep.

  It was one of those beautiful, dusky mornings that the south of Calidell was famous for, where birds sang in the pine trees and the mists ascended into the yellow skies. Beodrin hauled on his black leather boots and buckled his swor
d to his back. He had been considering a brief talk with Silar, who had spent the previous day in a foul mood for no good

  reason. And sending Artemi to the back of the column? He did have mysterious methods indeed. The captain strode out of his room and went to call on his daughter. He’d sensed lowlevel wielding for most of the morning, and he was sure she was up to no good. He knocked on her door and waited. “Sel! Wake up.”

  Odd. He couldn’t sense her power in there at all. Beodrin walked into the empty room to assess the scene. The large spear bed had been slept in and made up. All of her things had been packed into polished leather saddlebags and were ready to go, but she was absent. Something blue poked out of the side, and the captain knelt to inspect it. It was a very old-looking book with flaking covers and words he did not understand. He flicked through the pages quickly, and came across an

  engraving of a woman surrounded by rays of light and fire. Beodrin felt a wash of concern. He could not interpret the contents himself, but there was one man he knew of who had an interest in wielding, old books and older languages.

  Beodrin hopped up the hotel’s broad, carpeted stairs and to the large door of Morghiad’s rather luxurious-looking suite. It was open, and he stepped through to the seating area. The king was there, predictably holding a large tome on something or other. “My lord.”

  Morghiad raised his bright green eyes from the large tome.