“Father...” Morghiad’s embarrassment was obvious to anyone that knew him well.
“Oh, come. You’re old enough to laugh about it now.” Hedinar turned back to Artemi. “He wrote you a poem. It was very sweet.” The general grinned.
The kahr spoke through gritted teeth. “I was seventeen!”
“Now, how did it go again...?” Hedinar raised his eyes as he thought. “... Something about hair like fire and metal, and what else...? There was a line about your-”
“Stop it!” his son hissed.
A thought began to build itself in her mind, an idea for the reason behind their Artemi’s sudden departure.
Hedinar was by now struggling to contain his giggles. “I’m sorry, son. I was just very proud to see that you had grown into a man: a man who evidently knew his own heart.”
Morghiad made no effort to hide the glower that consumed his features.
She found some words to diffuse the tension. “And evidently a man with good taste.” Her smile faded as she recalled the next part of the story. “None of that happened in my world. It was autumn 3192. We’d had
word that Acher had mustered a very large army, and that he was marching on Gialdin. And there was nothing we could do to stop it. We had too few men to fight and so we were forced to rely on this city’s defences. Everyone was crammed in – families, young children, warriors and nobility - waiting to be slaughtered.” An unruly tear ran down her cheek. “The Calidellians arrived in the morning. We put up a good fight against them, really very good. But just as they were about to be defeated... they...” She stopped to take a sip of her tea. Her hand was trembling quite visibly. “To this day I
still don’t know how they did it – they shattered the outer wall, and then everything else. One moment I was running towards the gate, and the next I was dead. The events immediately after that I can only describe based on what I’ve been told, and on what Morghiad told me.”
The kahr shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Acher...” Blazes, how did she put this gently? “...Acher and his men stormed the palace. He killed everyone. Everyone except you.” She met his green eyes, eyes that had not known nearly the same amount of heartache or loss as his counterpart. “And the king took you back to Calidell with him, where he made you believe that he was your father. He raised you as his own son.”
A sharp thud drew her attention back to Hedinar, whose eyes were filled with that same fury she hadn’t seen in decades. He cursed. “Are there any other worlds where I can go to kill that gutter crawler again?!”
“Morghiad had his retribution. In time. He grew up as Calidell’s kahr, became captain of their army. He met his future wife-”
“Wife?” The kahr leaned
forward, his eyes taking on a sparkle. “I married?”
“Presumably this woman exists here, also?” the general asked.
Artemi hid her efforts to think with an extended sip of her tea. “I believe she does,” she said at last, “But if events have progressed here as I understand they have, there may be some difficulty in... reaching her.”
Hedinar narrowed his pale grey eyes at her. “Who is this woman?”
“That is something I must discuss with your son first.”
“Then we know her, or know of her?” the general pressed.
Artemi avoided the question with little grace. “Anyway, when Morghiad finally discovered what Acher had done, he spent years plotting his revenge. The details aren’t terribly important, but eventually he killed Acher and took the throne for himself.”
“Good lad,” General Kantari whispered with approval.
Artemi made a poor attempt at a smile. “After that, he ruled Calidell – of which Gialdin was a part – and life was good. Cadra was destroyed, too, and the capital moved back here. There were some trials, of course, but such trials were overcome...” - trials that
included a certain other Kusuru Assassin. “...Come to think of it, you haven’t had a visit from Mirel, have you?”
Hedinar harrumphed. “I thought that’s what you ran away to deal with.”
“Who’s Mirel? Is she the one in the books?”
Artemi nodded. “A very dangerous woman. Evidently the other Artemi must have done something good, or you’d know first-hand about her by now.” But the reason their Artemi had left: could it be that she had fallen in love with this Morghiad? In another set of circumstances she could
so easily have run away to protect him, to protect him from Mirel and herself. Yes... that explanation made some sense.
Morghiad cleared his throat and shifted his legs. “And... am I... did I do it ri- what do people think? Am I a good king?”
“The best.” She smiled warmly at him, and he seemed to take some comfort from it.
“Tell me, how did my son come to die last year?” Hedinar asked.
The kahr did not look remotely surprised at the sudden pronouncement. In truth, little reaction
was evident at all.
“He went to...” Oh, how was she to explain this in a positive manner? “There was something – a creature, a bad thing that threatened us all. He died protecting his family.”
“Family? I have children? Did I he kill it?”
Artemi nodded into her cup. That thing was dead! She would never let it win, and she wasn’t going to cry again. Not here.
“Well...?” Excitement filtered into Morghiad’s voice. “How many? What are their names? How old are they?”
Hedinar waved for his son to calm down. “It’s good to hear that you finally grew up, but perhaps we sh-”
“Three children,” Artemi interjected. He had a right to know, after all. “Tallyn, Medea and Kalad. The eldest is fifteen, the youngest is two.” She took a final gulp of her tea. It tasted very bitter, indeed.
“They are very young to lose their father,” the general said in a low voice. “Is their mother still around?”
She nodded in silence.
“That is something to be glad for,” he said.
Morghiad had become quiet and motionless. He was studying her very intently. The three of them remained in that curious state of reflection for some time, with only the flames of the great hearth making a sound.
“I should go back with you,” the kahr finally said.
“No.” The word burned her mouth as she uttered it. Artemi had, of course, already considered the problem. “You are not their father.”
“I am the same person. And they should have me around. I would love them just the same. And my wife. If you can get here then you can get back. Take me with you.”
“No,” she said more firmly. “And you can’t be sure you’ll love her.”
“Yes. I do. I’ve already met her. Though I don’t know how it’s possible, given...” He knew! Blasted man! He’d read her like one of his bloody books! It was infuriating when he did that! He didn’t say any more, however, appearing to remember his father was in the room.
Artemi took a firm hold of her spiralling emotions. “Then if you care for her, there is all the more reason for you to stay here. The woman of my world is safe, and she has had her time
with you. But here, in this world, she needs your help.” Blazes, but it made her want to cry. It would have been so easy to steal him away for herself. Hedinar’s brow had become rather furrowed with confusion at the exchange. “Fires of Achellon, you know who she is?” he asked his son. “Why haven’t you mentioned her before? Who is this woman?” Morghiad shook his head, ignoring his father’s question. “I took her from that place – Achellon. She is here... Exactly where, I don’t know. I have tried to find her, but we can’t... You understand.” His look at Artemi
was sorrowful, but she only found herself filling with confusion.
The general fumed in his seat. “You went there?! When? Your mother and I will be having words with you about that!”
“It was a while ago. She needed my help; I couldn’t have just left her there!”
; “Boys, stop!” Artemi commanded. “Morghiad, you’re saying that you brought her back from The Crux?”
He nodded resignedly.
There was only one way he could have done that. Perhaps the
course of events here had not been so different, after all. “So where is she now?” And, more importantly, where was the child?
The kahr looked to the floor. “She said she had to leave.”
“What? And she wasn’t...? I... presumably you had to... to get her out of there, you would have had to...”
He pulled his mouth tight. “Yes. We did.”
She leaned forward. “And you didn’t notice anything... different about her once she was back in this world?”
Morghiad blinked. “Should I have?”
Artemi sat back in her chair and pondered the problem for a moment. Her other self had to have been pregnant when she had returned from The Crux, but this man seemed to have no knowledge of it. That Artemi would have known very well her situation, which meant she had intentionally kept it a secret from him. The truth was slow to dawn on her, but she saw it as clearly as the Tegran Summer skies. “You never had a relationship with her in this world, did you?”
“Artemi... I don’t understand how that’s possible without me ending up very dead.”
And it was likely their Artemi had believed the same thing. They had never realised their grade difference could be surmounted. Of course. The Fireblade emitted a long sigh; she could now see exactly what had happened here.
“Does this woman have an overprotective father?” Hedinar was clearly still confused.
Artemi looked at the floor, and Morghiad said nothing. No, she couldn’t tell the general until she’d explained the finer details to the kahr. “As I said, I must discuss it further with your son, first.”
“Why? Is she a criminal or something?”
Artemi guffawed. “Worse than that.”
Morghiad made an exasperated noise at her. “I don’t appreciate you talking that way about my wife.”
She smiled back at him. The kahr’s ignorance of the change in his lover could only mean one thing. “I believe she bore you a son.”
The general dropped his cup, spilling tea across his desk.
Morghiad shook his head in dismay. “No... she never said... I- she would have told me.” His voice turned to a plea. “Artemi, why wouldn’t she say anything?”
“Because you would have tried to help her.”
He rose from his chair to pace the room. “You are saying she died alone, because of me?”
Artemi paused briefly before speaking. “Yes, I suppose it would have killed her. But it wasn’t your fault. One of you would have died. She chose herself.”
The kahr slumped back into his chair. “I didn’t know. Are you sure are you certain this is what happened?”
“The Law-keepers would only
have released her if she was with child.”
“She didn’t say a thing,” he swallowed, “And I would have sensed a wielder daughter.” His breaths came long and slow. He rubbed at his jaw. “A son. That’s how she died.”
“I’m sorry, Mor,” his father whispered - half in disbelief, half in genuine sorrow.
The green-eyed man looked at her intently. “Do you think we can find him?”
Artemi leaned across to place her hand on his, sending sparks of angry flames along her arm. “I can
guess where she might have left him, but it will be only a guess. I cannot guarantee anything, but I will take you there, if you wish.”
He was quick to nod. “Yes. Tomorrow.”
Hedinar sighed softly. “Son, why ever didn’t you tell me of this woman while you were with her? You must have kept her from us for years for this to have happened. Is that why you were always late to everyth-?”
“Those rules don’t apply in Achellon,” Artemi interrupted. “It only takes a single... ah... union for a child to result.”
The general’s eyes widened. “Oh? And how is it that you know so much about that place?”
Morghiad spoke to save Artemi’s embarrassment. “I was usually late to patrol duties because I was directing the search for this woman. And that money: I used it to pay for the men I employed to do it.”
“And you let me believe you were a gambler?”
The kahr emitted a muted guffaw. “I hate cards. Always have.”
Hedinar smiled a small smile of approval. “Very well. Artemi, your orders are to prepare him for this as
best you can and discuss... whatever it is you need to discuss. You’ll report to me first thing tomorrow morning, and tell me what you’ve gone to such lengths to conceal today. Or perhaps my son would like to tell me his lover’s identity?” His grey eyes were hopeful.
Morghiad shook his head. “We will both explain it to you. Tomorrow.”
Artemi rose from her seat gracefully. Technically, as Queen of Calidell, she outranked the two men considerably. “Thank you for your orders, general,” she said in barely reverential tones.
He only dropped his gaze and
muttered something inaudible. A knock sounded at the door. “Enter.”
A tall man with brown hair and chiselled features stepped in. He was smiling broadly. Febain.
Artemi stumbled backwards out of surprise, but succeeded in withdrawing one of her gale swords with rapidity. The black creature had sprung from its box and was prowling at the edges of her mind. How was she to deal with two such enemies at once? Her backward movements were broken as her body encountered Morghiad’s.
Reduvi raised his eyebrows at her. “All that fighting and spinning in
the air finally sent you mad, has it?” His voice sent shivers down her spine. “Ah... is she quite alright?” When she did not move from her battle-ready position, Febain looked nervously to Hedinar for support.
“You remember my brother, surely?” The general indicated to the man of nightmares. “Runs our banks here. Wouldn’t really help me much if you killed him.”
She felt Morghiad gently extract the sword from her shaking grip. Calm. She had to calm herself! Artemi viciously forced her fears into the back of her mind. A lengthy howl was
emitted by the thing of the black river, trailing its shadow as it faded into nothingness. Artemi took a tentative step forward. Did this man claim to be different from the one she’d known? He’d better not have a dagger on him, or she’d rip the damn thing away and shove it down his throat! She forced her muscles to relax, but refrained from saying or doing anything further. Febain held out his hand to shake. “I’m really not all that bad.” Artemi stared at it for a moment. She still had nightmares about those hands. Blazes, girl! She had to take control of herself! This man was, at the centre of his being, nothing more than a coward. She had prevailed the first time, and this was just a silly hand. She took it in spite of herself, and gave it a very weak grip.
“Not all that bad, you see? Though, have any of your victims ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re just about to kill them?”
Artemi reeled at that. “I have to go. Now.” She reclaimed her sword from the kahr and trotted out of the offices, mustering as much haste as she could without a full sprint. She turned another four corners, and gave into her desire for speed. Artemi hurtled down
another corridor at full pelt, soon breathing hard with her exertion. She finally came to rest in a dark corner of the palace, slid down the wall and crouched at the bottom of it. It was all too much. All of these ghosts – this palace of ghosts! Her hands shook. She began to sob uncontrollably. How many times she had wished she could meet the dead once more, and now that she had, how bittersweet it was!
“You alright, girl?” a heavy voice boomed above her. “It’s not like you...”
She looked up at the giant who towered above her. His square face
was lined with regularly spaced frown creases. “They’re all dead, Koviere.” She stood and embraced him. “Everyone here is dead except for us.” “They look
ed alright a minute ago,” he chuckled as he squeezed her. “Ah... look at you.” He pushed her from his chest. “This is not the famous, fierce and heroic Fireblade I know. Must have been some hard years out in the wastelands of Sennefhal, eh? Tell you what, come and have a beer with me. That’ll set the world to rights.” He led her by the arm to the tavern in the cellars of the castle, and sat her firmly down at one of the benches. It wasn’t
long before the ale had made her mellow, and she tried to explain her true identity to a disbelieving giant. Several of her old Sunidaran friends, those who had followed Hedinar and subsequently died at Gialdin’s battle, came to join them too. It was very strange indeed to see their faces again, but it brought back her smiles.
Artemi did not stay there for too long, however, and was soon making her way back to her rooms. She truly hoped that she was doing the right thing here. It had become very apparent that one decision could have enormous repercussions for thousands of people,
and she didn’t know if hers would ultimately serve those she cared about. But the Morghiad and Artemi of this world deserved a chance to know the happiness that she had, and it would have been a greater injustice to deny them that perfection. She could hardly refuse this world’s Artemi a chance to meet her son, or for that son to know his father. It seemed a cruelty that her own children would have to remain fatherless.
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