The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  “I was in those wars, actually.”

  “Bloody blazes!” Silar only muttered a brief, “My queen,” before he turned and strode from the cell. Maybe Artemi was just as mad as Morghiad. Or perhaps they were the sane

  ones and his mind had become unseated. Whatever the situation, he was fast becoming sick of it.

  A thick fog of depression had settled upon Artemi as she considered Morghiad’s future. It seemed increasingly likely that he would bring about this terrible event, an event that would destroy everything or throw the remnants of the world into chaos. His current state of mind was the immediate explanation for such an act, but what more could she do to clear it? And if Dorlunh thought Morghiad was somehow linked to this, then why had he tried to save him from Mirel? Come to think of it, why hadn’t he killed Morghiad himself? There was hope to avoid such things, or there was far more to this than they currently understood. There had to be.

  She huddled and considered and pondered for what she considered to be a few hours, and once her feet had grown numb from the cold, she stood to pace her cell. Perhaps the others were right. Perhaps it was time she went to him. Artemi threw off her swaddle of heavy blankets and furs, and opened her cell door. Doing so always threw a chill of guilt and excitement up her spine, even though no one could see her. It still counted as a break of her

  own promise. But this time she did not walk toward the partially repaired exit - this time she walked the way her visitors had left.

  A very small amount of Blaze was all that was required to create a glowing ball of light to illuminate her journey, and its soft blue hue was immensely calming against her growing nervousness. At length the musty smells gave way to fresher air, and the puddles on the floor lessened in size. The ground assumed a gradual slope upwards, and Artemi began to jog forward with excitement. She kept her footfalls entirely silent, but anyone could have heard her heart thumping from the next city. Artemi only stopped when the ceiling turned to wood, and the incline of the floor rose to meet it.

  To the left was a small, worn set of steps - the inspection hatch. She hopped up

  them quietly and listened for sounds above, before taking in Blaze to sense for people. There were none. Not even a single guard. Artemi thrust open the hatch, and blinked as she was drowned in a flood of white moonlight. She stopped in it for a moment, bathing in its heatless embrace. Abruptly the light winked out, and she realised the moon had moved from its perfect alignment with the room’s single window and the walls beyond. She stepped out of the tunnel and moved toward the broad door. This room had been where she’d informed Morghiad of the tortures she’d received from his uncle. His reaction was a heartbreaking memory indeed, and she shoved it firmly into a corner of her mind. Sneaking through the castle unnoticed was not going to be easy without her usual

  fitness, and she had added to her own obstacles with that request for a larger guard. She knew that Morghiad had reprised his old rooms since Mirel’s death, but that would not help her much. Artemi had to scale the vast height of the courtyard wall unseen or burn her way through the intervening floors. But that much wielding at night would undoubtedly attract attention and leave a trail; the courtyard was the better option.

  She padded up to the window and peeked out. Several soldiers marched the perimeter in black and green – only, their uniforms were different. Instead of the green stripes on black coats, they wore long tunics of dark green, dotted with stars of black and silver. Artemi smiled to herself at the change; each man looked like a hero from the Torvalen Hunt. And the familiarity would not be lost on Tallyn for that - he had been the only man to complete The Hunt and find the Heart of Glass, after all. Too bad he’d given it to her for safe keeping. And too bad she’d stashed it at the Reduvian Bank. She was glad he had not yet enquired after its condition.

  Her momentary assessment of the courtyard had revealed the pattern of its guard’s patrol, and the key point at which she could step out of the heavy bronze door. A corner to her right looked to offer just enough shade for her to clamber up unseen. Artemi took a deep breath and stepped out in complete silence. The scars of the great Blazecut troughs, though filled, were still evident in the courtyard floor, and much of the walls remained glassy from the heat of her battle with The cold night air was a thing of beauty against her skin, but she did not stop to revel in it longer than necessary. Her movement to the corner was smooth and fluid, so that she blended with the sliding shadows perfectly. And then she was in place. Artemi shimmied up the corner as quickly as she could, remaining wary of dusty footholds and loose mortar. The slightest disturbance could reveal her location and suspicious actions to everyone, and then they really would believe she was Mirel.

  When she reached the roof level, she stopped briefly to check for more soldiers. None were obvious. Artemi hooked her legs onto the gutter and rolled onto the tiles, keeping her outline as low as possible. They were slicked with ice and about as slippery as moss

  covered rocks when she tried to walk on them. How she wished she had proper climbing boots! Instead, she followed her training and reprised her prone position to create as much friction with the roof as possible. The ice melted through her clothes as she dragged herselfacross its surface, slaking her front with its chill.

  Whichever fool historian had thought to describe her life as a Kusuru Assassin as glamorous had clearly known nothing! Artemi stuck herselfto and snagged on at least another twenty tiles before she reached the area above Morghiad’s balcony, which she dropped onto like a clump of sodden feathers. There was no light from his rooms, and she could see no movement inside. She knew which of the doors was the quietest, and which had the weakest

  latch. Artemi gently pushed the casement door open and crawled into the room on her knees, before closing it quickly behind her to stem the flow of cold air. Not that his room was very warm. Actually, it felt colder than outdoors.

  She stayed low as she padded toward his bed, but straightened once she’d stepped back into the shadows. And there he was, sleeping calmly amongst the soft, white sheets. His face was recently shaved, though his hair had been left to grow longer than she remembered. He was still undeniably beautiful, and exuded the strength she’d always found such comfort in. This was surely not the body of a man weakened by madness. At first she did not want to disturb him from the serenity of his slumber, but Artemi could not resist the urge to reach for him. She wrapped her cold, icy

  fingers around his, and stayed her breathing as the fires thundered through her right arm. His reaction was immediate - his eyes snapped open, glittering wildly, and he raised himself like a cat about to pounce.

  Unsure as to what she should say to calm him, Artemi squeezed his hand softly. He looked down at it in confusion, and then lifted it from the bed to examine it more closely. It started slowly at first, the small stream of her power flowing into him, but then it grew to a torrent and larger until a tsunami of inferno raged through her. Fear crept in as she realised she had given him complete control, but instead of wielding, he seemed to consume it, savour it. His eyes closed and he pressed her hand against his cheek with a smile. “This is a dream, isn’t it?” he murmured.

  Sometimes dreams could impart important information. “I wanted to see you.”

  Morghiad opened his eyes again and pulled her into bed with him. “Why are you in such a state?” he said as he wrapped his arms about her. “Why would I dream of you looking like this?”

  Artemi quickly thought up a dream-like excuse, “I have had a long journey to reach you.”

  “Not galloping across my country, stealing horses again?”

  She chuckled. “No.”

  “I miss you, Artemi. I need you back here. I can’t tell you how much.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes then. “It won’t be long. I will come to you.” She wondered where the silver dagger had gone

  and who held it now.

  “They’re out looking for you now your father and the others. They’ll bring you back h
ere soon, and you’ll be safe. I promise not to betroth you to me this time.” She heard the smile in his voice as he said it. “Do you have any other requests?”

  My freedom. “I’ve no need of big houses and expensive horses. But there are some things I must ask of you now.”

  “Name them.”

  She turned over to face him, or rather his chest, and played with a strand of his black hair. “I want you to take care of yourself. I want you to recover from Mirel’s influence.”

  “I have her imprisoned – she’s beaten. She’s here, below the castle.”

  Artemi quickly pushed the subject

  away. “It doesn’t matter about her now. What matters is you. Is it true you tried to cut your legs?” She raised her eyes to meet his.

  Morghiad swallowed as he tried to say something.

  “Tell me.”

  “I... it was the pain she left in them. I feel it every time I look at them, every time I remember. It’s always there. But she left the acid everywhere. It’s inside me, in my veins. And I cannot be rid of it until everything grows anew.”

  Artemi sat up and nodded slowly. “I see. But that is not the way to deal with it. I can remove what she’s left behind, if you allow me.”

  He studied her briefly, and nodded as

  he gently released her power. It seemed to be a difficult thing for him to do.

  She pulled the covers from his body and ran her eyes over it appreciatively. But now was not the time for leering at him. Artemi placed her hands on his feet, and began to search for any remnants of Mirel’s forms. She found one fragment, and then another... and another. Her horror grew as she found thousands of them inside him - everything from healing forms to cutting, burning and freezing forms in his bones, in his skin and muscle. He hadn’t imagined this at all. “How do you bear this?” How had he borne it when the forms were whole?

  He stayed silent.

  Artemi began to wield Blaze that would break up the fragments, sweeping up the small pieces that were beyond the influence of a

  kanaala. She worked up his legs and to his groin, where most of the tortures had clearly been concentrated, then to his abdomen and chest. His arms she caressed with clean fire, taking care to work up to his fingernails where Mirel had, quite predictably, exacted a slew of tortures. His right hand was entirely clear, but that was no surprise. Finally, she took his head in her hands and sifted through the multitude of slivers that lay inside his skull. It was a wonder he was not writhing around and screaming from those alone. They melted away swiftly at her influence. “It’s done now,” she said.

  Morghiad raised himselfto face her, and smiled broadly. “Thank you.” And then his smile faded rapidly. “But if this is a dream, they will be back whenI awaken.”

  Artemi shook her head. “No. They are

  gone forever, I promise you.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “When you wake up tomorrow, there will be no pain. All will be well.”

  He grinned and took her by the arms. “CanI make love to a dream sprite like you?”

  Fighting the urge to leap on top of him and take what she wanted demanded a considerable amount of restraint, but this was hardly the time. And certainly not when he thought she wasn’t real. Besides, she wanted to be confident she could tie his mind to hers again. That required a little more forethought. “Not now.”

  He frowned. “Well that’s typical Artemi – always some great problem on her mind. What is it?”

  “Can you tell me everything will be well with you?”

  “As well as it can without you here.”

  Now it was Artemi’s turn to frown. “I know about your... problems after I died – with the wielders.”

  He drew breath sharply and released her arms. “You must be disappointed in me. I am sometimes... weak against it.”

  “Morghiad, there is nothing weak about you, you... idiot. I’ve seen inside that head of yours, remember?”

  He half smiled. “I became addicted to you in more ways than one. The wielders had something you had. None of them were ever strong enough though. They just made it hungrier.”

  “It?”

  His eyes dropped to her hands as he

  took them. “I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like... a... sort of creature. I don’t control it. I can’t.”

  “You never spoke of this to me before.”

  “It wasn’t there with you, or at least it was dormant. It only seems to rouse when you are gone.”

  “Is it there now?”

  He smiled and shook his head. His smiles always were perfect. But how could she fix this thing when she was in a cell? “You must have conquered it though?”

  “They locked me away for a while. It was starved, and that made it weak. But it’s always there. Waiting for a day whenI can’t fight it.”

  Artemi interlocked her fingers with his.

  “You must never give in to it. Never stop fighting. I need you to be here whenI return.”

  “I will, for you.”

  “Good. There is one more thingI must discuss with you – something Dorlunh mentioned to you.”

  Morghiad sighed heavily. “It is the same thing. Or related. I was... angry at them. For taking you. I very nearly lost them in the chase when the Bridge started to fail. And the anger – as the Sky Bridge fellI tried to hold the broken forms. The creature took over and I allowed it to. I don’t remember much more than that and I understand less.”

  “You could have killed Mirel with it. You must have known that.”

  Morghiad shook his head. “It is a worse monster even than she is. And if I’d set it free on her... it could have ultimately hurt you.”

  He was stronger than he realised, and more rational than anyone could have hoped. “You will destroy it, I know that much. And whenI come back to you, if you haven’t already done it yourself, I will help you do it.”

  Morghiad pulled her to him then, and held her tightly as he buried his face in her lank hair. She must have looked and smelled pretty terrible, she realised. Blaze baths could only clean you so well.

  Artemi curled up beside him as he slipped into a deep and contented sleep. He would recover now, and the world would turn again. When she was sure he would not wake with her movements, she exited his chambers and returned to her cell. The vast tunnel seemed especially cold without him there.

  The spring sun burned fearsomely upon the glittering stones of Cadra, and everywhere the obsolescence of winter gave way to eager life. Green leaves pushed through gaps between blocks, shining with morning dew, and small birds chirruped to each other between their eave-bound nesting sites. A broad smile worked across Morghiad’s face as he greeted the stall keepers and shoppers he passed.

  Tallyn had invited him to walk among the citizens today, having recommended it as a way of reaffirming trust and assurance. And he trusted Tallyn’s advice on such matters, since the old man had been a king several times himself. In truth, Morghiad was surprised at the level of recovery the city demonstrated. Its economy had boomed, its people were wellfed once more; it was clean, busy and noisy. He liked his city to be noisy.

  “You’re looking very pleased with yourself, my lord,” Tallyn said wryly.

  “I am glad to see things as they are. Most people here have been forced to endure far more than they should.” A young water carrier curtseyed before him and the king nodded in return. “We may have a good future yet, assuming the Hirrahans don’t carry out

  their latest threat.” He didn’t want to think about that now. Today was too good a day to worry about that.

  Tallyn grunted. “Silar seems to think so, though he moans like a funeral wailer about the stuff he sees.”

  Morghiad only raised an eyebrow. It was curious that Tallyn and Silar had struck such a discord with one another. The two men had far more in common than they realised. Morghiad placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, now comfortably resting at his hip. Back where it belonged - it felt like an old friend. Artemi’
s brother would have it when he died, he’d decided. The boy was almost good enough to use it already.

  They had left the market square and were progressing along the broadest of the

  curving streets, which bustled with colourful waves of people at this time in the morning. He watched their expressions closely, which seemed to range between stark shock at seeing him or polite smiles. A woman heavily laden with rug rolls waddled past and tripped on a loose stone, sending her burden flying through the air. Morghiad reached forward to catch her in time, but was not fast enough to save her wares. “Are you alright?”

  Her eyes were wide when she recognised him, and she mumbled some unintelligible words in response.

  “I see. Well, you can’t be expected to carry all this by yourself.” Morghiad hurled several of the rolls over his shoulder. “Tallyn? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind helping...”

  The Kusuru rolled his eyes and smiled,

  before taking the remaining rugs under his arms.

  “If you would lead the way, my lady?”

  She gawped in surprise only for a moment, curtseyed and then turned to progress through the crowd.

  “You’re not too slow for a lumper,” Tallyn commented. That was the word he and his kind seemed to use for ordinary swordsmen. “We might have made a halfdecent Kusuru out of you.”