“There’s nothing, Tem,” Burrus sighed. “The whole city was as black as this night.”
“Not even any guards at the gates?”
Leo offered her another leg of rabbit
before speaking, “Tricky to see from the tree line. But if there were any, they were standing there without light.”
Artemi pondered for a moment. “It’s possible Mirel has cloaked the walls. She’d want it dark so that she can surprise any visitors, or see them coming. But then she’d have to be in control of the whole army...” And that thought worried Artemi very much. Mirel, Queen of Calidell. What if Morghiad had married her out of love? But then, why pretend she was Eryth? “We must stay cautious. I still don’t know if she controls the king. Cadra has to accept food and goods to trade... We can enter the city unseen if we pretend to be part of a delivery wagon. At dawn tomorrow we’ll hijack one on the road, and ride it in.”
Sleep that night was fitful, and Artemi’s
dreams were plagued with images of Morghiad and the multiple deaths she’d suffered at Mirel’s hands. That Artemi was the stronger wielder did not guarantee her success in a fight, especially if she’d been deprived of sleep. And worse, Mirel somehow had the king in her pocket. Whatever his choices had been, Artemi could not risk harming him. Please let him be alive, she thought. Let him stay alive for another thousand years.
Chapter 15
The morning air was cool and soft on Artemi’s skin, and thankfully rain-free. She’d prepared herselffor battle with some meditation by a nearby lake and a swim in its twilight waters. It had revealed that her muscles were not quite so well-attuned to her memories of Kusuru fighting methods as they might have been, but they were reactive and strong. And she had faced Mirel with her body in worse condition than it was currently in. She would win. She had to win to save her friends. To save him. She pushed her nervousness to one side and settled the second gale sword in her belt. It still felt hot from the ruins of Gialdin, as if still warmed by the energy of that place. The spin daggers held the same heat, and they
pulsed up her legs like glowing coals made of silver.
“Sergeant Fireblade!” Fhirin shouted, “Tem, there’s a wagon approaching on the eastern road. It’s just the right size for us.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have,” she said excitedly.
The group trotted through the woodland until they found the trail of their prize, where they turned their horses loose and followed the remainder of the tracks on foot. The wagon was wide and capacious, filled with foodstuffs and flagons of ale. Two men drove it with four sturdy horses and a woman perched on the back strut. Obtaining the cart looked like it might be fairly straightforward, so Artemi had the men sprint faster to block the road ahead.
“You don’t look much like bandits,” one of the overfed and ruddy drivers said.
“We ain’t,” came Leo’s very Sunidaran reply. “But we would like to borrow your wagon for the day.”
The second driver, a moderately rotund man with long moustaches, reached for his short sword. “No one’s borrowing anything off me!”
Artemi had to cut in at that point, before the man got himselfkilled. Sunidarans did not like stepping away from any fight, no matter how ill-matched. “Alright, alright. Put the sword away.” She could almost hear the disappointment from Fhirin. “Tell you what. As proof of our honour – that we do intend to return your wagon and goods - we’ll make a temporary exchange for your cart.”
The moustachioed driver relaxed his hand briefly. “I’m listening.”
“You may have twenty gold from me now and a further twenty when I leave the city.”
Arrian huffed noisily behind her, clearly displeased at the prospect of avoiding a fight.
The two drivers whispered between themselves for a moment and, at length, nodded in acceptance of her deal. “Wagon’s yours. You want the woman, as well?”
Artemi frowned. “What is she to you?”
The first wagon driver shrugged as he clambered down from his cart. “Just picked her up. She was pretty enough to get herselfa free ride.”
The woman chose to speak then, “My name is Korali di Certa, Lady Korali di Certa.
And I have come to reclaim my lands from that thieving king!”
Artemi stepped round to have a closer look at the young lady. There was a resemblance there, definitely. “You weren’t involved in the plot to overthrow him?”
Lady di Certa shook her head. “I was sixteen-years-old! What did I care about stupid plots?”
Artemi considered the woman for a moment. She probably was innocent. Then again, there was no time to trifle with such superficial matters. “Korali, I need your cloak. You’re to wait here with the drivers. If I can, I will endeavour to grant you an audience with the king.” Artemi had absolutely no idea if such a thing were possible, or if he would listen to her, given his current choice of wife.
Lady di Certa frowned. “I heard that the king is... He is no longer holding audiences. That’s whyI came - to speak to the new queen.”
The breath in Artemi’s throat stuck, but she managed to squeeze out a question. “Do you know what’s happened to him?”
Korali pulled a face. “Don’t know, don’t care. The queen is in charge now.”
The moustachioed driver harrumphed loudly. “Good luck getting her to listen to you. The entire place is controlled by a hand of iron. No one’s allowed to move outside once dusk hits; certain times of the day the roads must be empty... and there’s a curfew on wagon deliveries too. You’d better move your arses if you want to meet it.”
Artemi’s heart sank into the dead
leaves and buried itselffurther down, below the earth floor. Morghiad would never have allowed this if he was free or alive. Never! Mirel must have done something... something deplorable to him. Her anger at the other assassin began to roil within her bones.
The new wagon party trundled rapidly down the grassland rise and toward Cadra, having dispensed with most of its weighty goods. The cloak was good quality and fullhooded enough to hide Artemi’s hair. Of course, she could have applied a Blaze disguise to it before they’d arrived, but she wanted Morghiad to recognise her if he saw her – he and any other friends who might live.
Artemi steeled herself as they approached the eastern gate, and while she was curled up in a corner at the back of the
wagon, she bowed her head low. The concealed swords of her Sunidaran soldiers prodded her backside each time the cart bounced.
She did not recognise the voice of the guard who enquired after their business at the gate, but she looked back as they trundled through the wall tunnel. Jarynd was there, clearly stationed to keep wielders out. She hadn’t meant it to happen, but he caught sight of her face as they drew away, and she saw his eyes widen appreciably. Artemi crawled up to the front of the wagon once they’d entered the dark green of the streets, and directed Arrian to an inn she knew well. It felt less like five years had passed since she’d last been here, and more like an entire age. The atmosphere of the place had changed entirely. It was strange
to see so many citizens walking about, but to hear so little chatter emanating from them was upsetting. “This city is all wrong, Tem,” the sub-lieutenant said, “I’ve never seen such a large group of miserable sods in one place.”
“Alright, Arrian. We’ll cheer them up, soon enough.” Blazes, how she hoped she could.
They left the cart at the inn’s stable yard, entered the tavern for some ale and succeeded in negotiating a surprisingly good price for the wagon’s contents. Artemi kept her face hidden while the men talked, and from her corner of the bar she noticed how the innkeeper’s clothes hung from his frame. In truth, a great deal of the Cadran citizens looked somewhat hungry. And scared. They all looked quite frightened of something. Sidling up to one
of the inn’s customers, she tried to enquire after the king.
“No one’s seen him since the wedding,” the butcher said. He was a pink man wi
th a perfectly spherical nose. “Some say she’s killed him, others that he’s been locked in a cell and forgotten about. She can do... things, you know? The other day, my friend Horand was late in getting home. Broke the curfew. And he said he’d managed to stay hidden – but the other guys who were out – she sent a storm of flame after them. Took the width of the street and the height of the whole city, he said. There was nothing left of those people after. Not even a cinder. Maybe Acher was right, you know – about banning wielders.”
Artemi thought to herself before speaking quietly, “The other wielders –
wouldn’t they have tried to stop her? What happened to them?”
The butcher shrugged. “There were some booms and crashes in the castle a while back. Maybe that was them. Not sure. Maybe they’re the same place as the king.”
A small team of wielders could have made this much easier for Artemi. Selieni alone could have made quite a difference. Though Artemi did have one kanaala, Jhontin, to aid her in permanently quenching Mirel once she was caught... but she could do with all the extra help she could find. The castle - she knew she could enter it alone without being seen, but undoubtedly Mirel would have positioned wards and partitions and traps everywhere she thought vulnerable. And Mirel would already have marked the route she thought best for a
Kusuru incursion. But Artemi wanted to know who was inside and if she might use them. Her thoughts returned to Jarynd.
If she asked for his help, she’d be asking him to fight against his own men – men who had more to fear from Mirel. It was possible that Artemi could assume control of the army. But then, what would their attitude be to her after she had deserted them only a few years past? And they’d surely know the reason for her leaving, that she’d risked killing Morghiad. No, she could not rely on them in this battle between their queens.
She laughed aloud at the old title they’d given her. It was a title she could never hold now, she lamented, and her smile dropped. Those days under Acher’s rule seemed almost golden in her memory. “Tell me more about this curfew,” she instructed the butcher. And he related the details of it to her at length. It became obvious that Mirel had set up some Blaze forms that swept the city when the sun reached a certain point in the sky, and that there were even times when the city’s guards were obliged to be indoors.
Artemi resolved to keep her plan simple. She would walk through the gates of the castle that very afternoon, just before the army had to put itself away. Then she’d invite Mirel to come out and have a little chat with her. Her Sunidaran men would have to do the best they could in keeping the Calidellians from doing anything idiotic. But they were practised hands at managing sword-happy men. Killing Mirel could be disastrous, but less so than leaving Morghiad unaided or un-avenged.
When the sun had passed its zenith, the streets began to clear, and Artemi gathered her men by the inn’s stable block. “We’re going to walk into the castle soon, where I will call Mirel out to fight. You must not engage her directly. Not even you, Jhontin. Believe me, she has her ways of avoiding a quenching from the most practised of kanaala. But several of the Calidellian men may come out to stop me... or even to help me. You must prevent this from happening. My battles with her in the past have tended to... burn others by accident. I do not want that to happen here.”
The men nodded resignedly, disappointed to have been given the roles of policemen.
“Jhontin, if I manage to capture her I can quench her temporarily. After that I shall
need you to do the final quenching. Be ready for whenI need you.”
The lieutenant nodded excitedly.
“Then let’s go. Stay close to me until we enter the castle courtyard.”
The curving, green streets of Cadra were ominously silent when they stepped out and into them. Nothing moved in the low light, not even a stray cat or feral pigeon disturbed the scene with their presence. It was desolate. Artemi waved the men forward as they moved swiftly and noiselessly between the stacked buildings. And it wasn’t long before the gnarled, black mouth of the castle became apparent. No guards appeared to be manning the entrance or walking the walls, which gave Artemi some cause for concern.
She squinted at the gate, and looked
for the sorts of Blaze forms she might place around it to guard herself. But there were none that she could see. Artemi picked up a loose stone and threw it through the entranceway. It vaporised immediately, and she heard Fhirin grunt quietly behind her.
“Its root is beyond the gate, I think,”
Jhontin whispered.
Artemi nodded in agreement. “I’ll show you how it’s made so you can deconstruct it.” There was no choice now but to wield a very small amount in replicating the form, but Jhontin understood it immediately.
Within seconds, Mirel’s gate trap had melted to nothing in a soft glow of blue light. The group carefully edged their way down to the entrance, and stood below the portcullis. With a tiny amount of Blaze in her body,
Artemi could now see the array of traps and weapons that lined the courtyard. She touched Jhontin’s hand so that he could see, also. “Those three are the same as the one we just removed,” she explained. “I can burn the rest. The minute I’m finished, you must each man an exit for me.” The Sunidarans nodded eagerly. When the kanaala had finished his work, Artemi delved deeper into the Blazes until she held a vast amount of their flaming beauty. With so much fire in her body, she could sense every movement of every person and every tree, even miles outside of the city. It was almost as much as she could bear to hold, and to any other wielder or kanaala she’d have glowed like the midday sun against the darkest of skies. Artemi crushed each of Mirel’s traps simultaneously, destroying them in a hideous,
screaming mix of Blaze against Blaze. The sensation made her feel unwell, but she formed her power into something new: a call to her old friend.
Mirel rolled off the king’s glistening body for the fourth time that day. The ecstasy was both transcendent and addictive - a powerful thing. What benevolent force had sought to reward her with this man? Though, it had taken over four years for her to find him to discover that he was the son of Hedinar
Kantari. She closed her eyes, laid her head on his perfect, sculpted chest and watched as his manhood returned to its former state. Likely she’d use him again before the night came in. It had taken more than a little encouragement to get the king to perform for her. She’d had to try everything, from obvious seduction: kissing and caressing - to basic torture, to bringing in pretty servant girls, to dancing and to wielding with him. At one point she’d feared him unrousable or, worse, disinterested in women. But at length she’d tried disguises, and discovered he’d a desire for red heads. Not that she appreciated having hair like old tree leaves, but some sacrifices were necessary. Mirel raised herself on her hands and peered into his brilliant green eyes. Men weren’t supposed to look as flawless as he did. “You have been a very well-behaved king in the last few days. I’m going to give you a reward.”
Morghiad stared back at her unblinkingly. He had been rather vocal in the first few weeks, but he said very little now. He certainly wasn’t going to try quenching her again.
She smiled and drew a finger across his cheek, causing fire to sprout from the contact. A kanaala graded twelve. Who would have thought it possible? “Sweetness, I’m going to untie you. But this room is still laden with traps, and I would not have you injure yourselfagain. You can use this space here, if you like. Do not venture beyond the end of the bed – but you know that, don’t you?”
The King of Calidell watched at her in
silence, his gaze then slipping away to drift over the room. He had demonstrated a remarkable knack for deconstructing even the most complex of her forms in very little time, and she’d been forced to use gar-siras as anchors for each. They were hidden in a very safe place now.
Mirel crawled over to each of the bed spears and unlocked the chains that clung to them. They clanged noisily as their numerous l
oops pulled from his restraints. She remained ready to fight him if he attempted escape, but he merely rolled onto his side to look at the wall. “Sweet boy,” she whispered at him, “When you’re feeling better, you can help me manage this country again. I think you’d like that.” She wanted to make him smile. Perhaps she was falling in love with this man.
She dressed quickly and armed herself with all the usual blades, before striding out into the corridor. She didn’t really need the knives and swords anymore; everyone knew she would kill them in an instant if they dared to challenge her. The guardsmen at the door kneeled in the proper manner as she swept past them. One of them reminded her of that pretty, young and tall blond man who’d been their general. He had been quick to recognise her superiority when he’d held his soldiers back too quick. And men who thought before they charged were the most dangerous. Far better for him to be locked away and out of trouble, until she made him into one of her special soldiers. And today was the day for recruitment.
Mirel stretched her arms into the air as
she sought to relax her muscles. Was it possible to have too much sex in one day? It was something she’d never had to worry about. At least, now she had Morghiad’s bond, and any transition through nalka would not be nearly so disruptive. She strode confidently through the curiously cave-like corridors and ignored the whimpers and moans of the various soldiers she’d bound some time ago. They were a troublesome lot, especially the lieutenants. They deserved to remain in the hallways as a warning to others. She stopped in front of a former wielder. The little girl had been fairly strong and resilient to start with, but now she cried and sobbed like the rest. “There, there, my dear. I know it hurts now. But in a few months I’ll set you free and you’ll work for me. There’ll be so many rewards for your good behaviour. I
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