being bound like a stuffed hog. But none of it compared to the pain of losing her father. And after all of it, after he had survived Mirel’s tortures and stabbings and imprisonment - even though he had lived through that to squeeze her tightly at its resolution, even though he had fought through centuries of battle - he had not survived this day. She had cried for hours in the arms of her mother and brother, until her head ached with dehydration and no more water would come from her eyes. Damn Mirel! And damn her stupid traps!
But something had stalled her weeping - that brief sensation of heat from below the city, a sensation she had not experienced for several weeks. It had been gone in a flash, but it had very definitely been there. She remembered her father’s last words to her.
“That’s Artemi we’ve locked away. Silar is sure of it, and I grow more convinced of it each day. How can we allow Morghiad to continue in keeping her prisoner?”
Whoever this woman was, it was clear she was not quenched. Selieni needed to investigate, to find out if there had been truth in his suspicions. She took a long, ragged breath as she stepped into the castle courtyard. Her father had forbidden her to enter the basalt heart of the city in light of Morghiad’s condition, but it hardly made sense given that she was not at risk. What could he have wanted from a quenched wielder? Her father had tried to explain that there were other ways in which kanaala could access the fires through a woman, but Selieni had been adamant. The king would never stoop to that, no matter how
insane he had become. Then she saw him.
He stood tall, motionless in the corner of the great courtyard. A pale band of fabric had been tied across his eyes, but he seemed to see. He appeared to notice her immediately, and approached with confident strides in the low firelight. “Selieni,” he said as he approached. “I’m so sorry.”
She nodded, thought briefly of speaking to communicate her acknowledgement, but realised he had probably seen it anyway.
“Calidell owes him a great deal. He will not be forgotten by any of us here, I assure you. And you have my word that your family will be properly supported in the years to come.” Morghiad appeared, and sounded, entirely cogent.
“Thank you.”
He hesitated briefly before speaking again. “May I ask what you are doing here, away from them?”
Selieni decided that honesty was the safest course here. Then again, there was something about the king’s intensity that drew the truth from everyone, even without his eyes. “I’ve come to see her.”
The muscles in his face worked oddly, and he started murmuring something she could not make out. It sounded almost as if her were chanting, singing even.
“Sire? Acid?”
He stopped abruptly at her words. “Don’t. Go. Down. There.”
“Why do you fear her? You do, don’t you - fear her still? I am not afraid.”
The king clenched his jaw at her intentional rudeness. But she had been in no mood for false courtesy. He was not mad. He was just being silly because his overgrown warrior pride had been injured.
“You ought to fear her. After all that she did to us,” he whispered harshly.
“I survived. So did you. You can rise above it. My father cannot. Now, excuse me while I face the big, scary woman.” Selieni ignored the growing lines of anger on his face and strode past him, toward the door she knew led to the hatch.
“Stop!” he called after her. She ignored him. He called again, “If you kill her, she’ll only come back! But with ice. She’ll come and bury us in ice.”
Selieni marched into the wood-floored
room and shut the huge, heavy door behind her. Perhaps he was a little burned by Blaze and clearly, if he had felt the wielding earlier, he had chosen to ignore it out of his own terror. She thought she was beginning to fall out of love with her once-perfect king.
The true hatch filled the entirety of the floor, and she remembered her father explaining how it was designed to allow for the width of a mounted, marching army. And the walls of the room that held it were false, weakly constructed to be collapsed in times of emergency. Few people knew of the castle’s escape tunnel, but being The Captain’s daughter had some benefits. She unhooked one of the wall lamps, pulled open the inspection hatch and scrambled through the hole.
The darkness below was blacker than
black, damp and filled with the scent of mould. In truth, it smelled more of death. Old rubble crunched beneath her feet. She walked for a time through it, waving her torch about to trace the curious contour of the glazed walls. The place was soundless and, after ten minutes of lonely walking had passed, she began to wonder if she would see her father here. At length, a flame bobbed distantly ahead. It drew closer to her as she neared it, and she was immensely relieved to discover it was Lord Forllan. He did not look so pleased to see her.
The general glowered at her in the low light. “What are you doing, girl? This is no place for you. And what if Morghiad finds out?”
“He already knows.”
“What?”
Selieni had no time for this. She hissed with exasperation. “I felt her wield earlier. I want to see her for myself.”
His expression softened slightly. “Are you sure you’re in a fit state to do that alone? Perhaps I should accompany you.”
“Look, I know it’s Artemi and not Mirel. I’m not an idiot like King Crazy, up there.”
“Hmm. Well, just so you know – she doesn’t know about... about what happened earlier today. She’ll be wandering the castle if she hears of it, and we can’t let her do that yet.”
A strange thing to say to the bereaved. “But if she’s innocent...”
“She needs to gain Morghiad’s trust.”
“Oh.” It made sense, after a fashion.
The general did have some very curious ways about him. “Alright then. I won’t speak of him.” Her own father. She drew her thick cloak around her, bid goodbye to Silar and continued walking down the tunnel. Her torch was not needed for long, however, as a string of pale aqua fires glowed into view. They were anchored to one wall, guiding her down the slope and toward a much brighter area. A dark figure sat at the centre, surrounded by wrought iron bars.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” the woman said in her soft tones when she arrived. “Are you alright? You look a little... wrung.”
Selieni stepped closer and then seated herself on the cold, hard ground. “It has been a trying few weeks.” She examined the prisoner closely, closing her mind to the foul smell of the
accommodations. Artemi remained annoyingly beautiful, of course. Her red-gold hair still glistened in cascading waves, and her deep brown eyes were bright with life. “I have some questions to ask first. To be sure, you understand?”
“Ask away.”
Selieni decided to start with a tricky one. “Do I like you?”
“Not much.”
Selieni smiled. She was almost becoming fond of Artemi. “Why?”
“Because,” Artemi hesitated only briefly, “...Because Morghiad cared for me.”
“He still does. Now, whenI restored you five years ago - was that a good or bad thing?”
That did knock the ancient woman off
guard. “It depends. I left to protect Morghiad from myself– that, you probably know. And it was because of what he said to me that day... But whether his admission of love was spurred by my restoration, I don’t know. And if he hadn’t said what he said, and if I hadn’t have left, I would almost certainly have been unable to kill Mirel. Then again, without my power, I’d have been defeated by her anyway. So yes, it was a good thing.”
Selieni blinked in astonishment. “You didn’t know he loved you!? The whole bloody country knew it!” There was no question as to her identity. Only Artemi could ever have been that obtuse!
“I... thought he was... confused. Why would a man love a woman he barely knew?”
“Hah.” Selieni pulled her knees to her
jaw against the cold. “Did they te
ll you what he did after you died the first time? And after you left?”
Artemi shook her head slowly, flamecoloured tendrils of hair following her movements.
“A different kind of madness. Or maybe it’s the same.” Selieni related the tale of Morghiad’s recovery from addiction, and his victims of it.
“I had no idea,” Artemi whispered softly once she’d heard the sequence of events. She became quiet then, introspective.
Selieni decided to break the difficult silence. “So, do you intend to stay down here until he comes to his senses?”
“That’s the plan.”
“How old are you, anyway? If you
don’t mind me asking.”
Artemi’s grin was brief. “Ten-thousand years, I think. Thereabouts. Possibly more; I don’t remember my earliest lives any longer.”
Ten thousand! Selieni tried to hide her shock as best she could with a slight change of subject. “I think he’s just afraid. He will come to you eventually. Perhaps you are right to remain here.” It was surprisingly unsatisfying to see the other woman in such conditions though. In the past, she’d have leapt with joy at the spectacle, but something had altered in their relationship. And that reminded her of the true reason for her presence. “You know what I have come here to ask of you.”
“I do, and I will happily oblige you. It is the least I can do in return.” Artemi leaned forward then, stretching her hand through the
bars. She took Selieni by the neck, and began the agonising work.
“His name is Kalad,” he said, smiling broadly.
Artemi shook her head again. “But how? It’s not even possible! You’re not even him!”
The man laughed at her softly, his perfect smile widening even further. “I am who you need me to be.”
She tried to focus on his eyes, but
found herself staring at the darkness of her prison cell instead. It was impossible! That had been no vision of the future; it couldn’t be. It had felt like one of those foretellings, the ones where curious people took over the bodies of those she knew, the ones where they had to tell her something important, the ones where she was left shivering afterward. But there were certain laws of nature that could not be circumvented. It was unattainable. She was made to fight, nothing more! The other part was frightening, horrifying even. But no one else needed to know about her idiotic dream. That’s all it was.
As her mind cleared, she began to hear a very quiet set of footsteps approaching, but did not spend long wondering to whom they belonged. She knew their sound very well, and
soon Toryn was standing at her cell. He held the torch up to inspect her closely, his eyes rapidly softening with recognition.
“Father?”
He harrumphed loudly. “And he thinks I wouldn’t know my own daughter.” Her father reached through the bars with his characteristically solid arms and bear-hugged her firmly. She had missed those hugs terribly, she realised, and the smell of his clothes reminded her of happy times.
“How are Si and Sindra?”
He grinned as he released her. “Very good. Silar’s nearly a grown man, as tall as I am already. He seems to have developed an eye for the ladies, and unfortunately a fondness for his sword fighting. Morghiad spent a great deal of time teaching him before- well, that
seems to run in the family. And Sindra, well, I suppose no one’s told you?”
Artemi shook her head. “Is she alright?”
“Yes! You have a sister now.” He smiled. “Talia.”
She blinked. “Blazes, what else has happened while I’ve been away? Is she, you know... is she like me? And what does she look like?”
“Wielder? No. But she has our hair. I think one day she’ll leave droves of men broken-hearted as you seem to.”
Artemi grimaced at that, but turned it into a slow smile. “I’d love to meet her, and see my brother again, but this is no place for them to see me.”
know whose fault that is. Tell me Artemi, why did you have to choose him, of all men?”
“There was a time when I thought you close to approving of him, father...”
Toryn harrumphed loudly and folded his arms.
She continued, “...And you agreed to my betrothal to him.”
“Because I knew it would make you happy, silly girl. I’d never seen you so full of inane grins except in those last few years of your, ah... before.”
Those years felt like an age away, now. “There’s never been anyone...” She didn’t finish. “Please will you be kind to him? Help him. For me?”
Her father shook his head. “He’s lost it. The man you knew is broken. I’ve seen it often
enough in battle. I suppose you have too. But there’s always been something, you know, wrong about him. I knew it would land you in trouble some day and now, here you are.”
Morghiad had his troubles, sure enough. But so would anyone who had endured the things he had. The Blaze addiction was worrying though. She’d seen Kanaala kill themselves in searching for the kicks they needed, sometimes by using her. If only he’d let her fix him... “It’s not forever. And I need to stay here now, to defend this place.” Now that she had all this extra family to keep from Mirel’s clutches.
“You intend to defend us from behind those bars?”
“This
is not a prison to me.”
“Did he hurt you, Artemi? When he put
you in here?”
There was no need for her father to hear about that. “I’ve faced worse trials than this before.”
Toryn gritted his teeth visibly. “Listen, lass. You may be twenty-million years old, but you’re still my daughter. I don’t especially like twuntish kings or kahrs or whatever-they-maybe messing with my girl. And I don’t appreciate them allowing her to get herself murdered, either.”
“He can’t help his position, and that wasn’t his fault-” Something crashed loudly in the hallway beyond, and Artemi took hold of The Blazes without thinking. The tunnel’s structure didn’t seem to have any new failings, but someone was approaching, someone tall and male.
Artemi allowed the fires to drain from her body, and she and her father waited in silence for their new visitor. Their anticipation was not held for long, however, as he swiftly strode into the torchlight amidst a cloud of his own darkness. Toryn drew his mouth tight and sighed loudly through his nose at the king. Artemi found herself merely staring at her former lover open-mouthed. He looked strong and confident, but whatever remained of his beautiful eyes was obscured behind a scarf of some kind.
“You should come away from her, Toryn. She is still dangerous.” His voice sounded firm, commanding. Not the voice of a madman, surely?
A hard look developed in her father’s eyes then, but he spoke with remarkable calm, “This came and passed in Artemi’s cell, and with each immeasurable day her hopes for Morghiad’s recovery diminished. Reports from Arrian, Toryn and Silar remained steady and steadily disheartening. They’d managed to stave off the search for her this long, but the king was growing irritable and desperate at her absence. Artemi had decided, after some considerable thought, to ask them to search for Mirel instead. It meant going against his orders, but if they found her then he’d know Artemi was the true Artemi. And there was the added opportunity to imprison the rogue Kusuru while she was still harmless. Toryn was disinclined to leave his daughters when they both quite clearly needed him, and he feared that his son would gravitate towards the farmer in his absence. But after numerous arguments and lengthy
is my Artemi.”
She kept her silence; protesting her innocence before she’d gauged his mood would not be the right path.
Morghiad appeared to be listening hard for signs of movement, a quickening of her heartbeat perhaps, or her worried breathing. She still loved him. Very deeply - dreadfully. Her heart was probably hammering noisily.
“It is another one of her tricks. She took Artemi’s memories. I don’t know how. But she has. And while we pander to this wo
man, she is out there.”
“Where did you find me last time?” Artemi asked quietly.
Morghiad’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.
Her father replied quickly, “Tedarah.
The city of Goshan.”
“And my father there... he was content to release me?”
There was a brief pause. “Temi, ah... he wasn’t around. You’d been sold to... to another house.”
“He sold me to a whore house, didn’t he?”
Toryn blinked, then nodded.
“You see, now?” Morghiad said with some excitement, “She reads us, Toryn. She can delve into your head and dig out its darkest secrets.”
“Follocks, I can! It doesn’t take a genius to work it out from my father’s embarrassment. Achellon knows I’ve grown up a hundred times in those places.” And worse.
Morghiad made a peculiar growling
noise under his breath, but stood his ground.
Her father broke the temporary silence. “You really grew up in... in brothels?”
“Yes. My abilities were always hidden, or at least they have been for the last fourthousand years.” Toryn didn’t need to know any more than that. He already looked quite upset. “I ought to thank you for putting up with my childhood all over again,” she paused as her father chuckled, “And you for financing what must have been a very expensive search.”
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