The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  He recovered his balance rapidly. “I wasn’t sure. Nowhere near sure, in fact. And telling you would have sent you on a mission away from us, away from your children. There was a much greater chance that mission would have ended in disaster.” He paused for breath. “Artemi, I just saw you die – permanently – in my mind. Please, don’t argue with me over this.”

  “He was reborn in this very city,

  Silar. And he lived near the bloody ruins of Cadra!”

  The general’s eyes carried some regret, but the look soon turned to horror. “Bloody light.” He rubbed at his jaw briefly. “That’s what Talia knew. She must have seen him there. That’s what she tried to tell me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “Don’t you see? That’s why she was murdered. Someone didn’t want us to know.”

  Artemi leant against a low wall behind her. “If that is true then they knew his identity. And now he is here. Do you think it is not fortune that

  brought him? Or perhaps he escaped from something?”

  “Perhaps. We should be careful, Temi.”

  “We will. Send one of your special birds to his home. We’ll have the names of his parents in our archives for the Cave of Light.”

  Silar smiled weakly and held his hand out to her. “For Talia I will go to his home myself.”

  The queen took his hand as she stood, and returned the smile. Their pause allowed her to study him more closely. His guilt over Talia was still marked, ageing even his youthful

  features. Several things about his appearance had altered in the years since that event. He had grown his blond hair longer, so that it brushed across his eyes and covered his ears, and his face had not convened with a razor in some time. He still dressed well, but in muted colours and shades of grey. Silar was a man who no longer wished to be noticed.

  “I would have been lost without you through these years without him. We all would. And do not think that my need for you will lessen in the years

  to come.”

  A small chuckle left his throat.

  “Nonsense, my lady. Artemi Fireblade does not become lost. We should find those children of yours.”

  “We should.” They ambled back into the snow once he’d reclaimed his horse, and the sun glinted brightly upon the whiteness around them.

  room glow orange, and the icy winds were silent on the other side of the curious glass. Morghiad eyed the two guards who’d mysteriously followed him to Peachgrove as he shut the door. He was glad to find some silence and solitude after the waves of gawping stares and peculiar bows. What a life this Kalad must live! He had been told to expect some unusual responses for the way he looked, but he could never have conceived of anything like this. He went to lean against the glass of his window, or whatever passed for glass here.

  The queen and her general were gone, and the streets had repopulated with citizens who displayed some semblance of sanity. At least, none of them appeared keen to throw themselves headlong into the snow again. The people here were as odd as their buildings, and their female sovereign was not as he had imagined at all. She was a great deal shorter than he had been led to believe, for one thing, and not nearly so striking as others had described. Bearably pretty, perhaps. Not one of the world’s great beauties. And her relationship with her general had been an interesting discovery. Did she whore with all of

  her soldiers as she did with Lord Forllan? And how did she manage it without turning the lot of them into eisiels?

  He sat on the small, hard bed. It seemed to have been made out of several pieces of rock and a token bed sheet. Already he missed his home and its woodland walls. He missed many things, but he had to remain focused on his objective. A part of him had been surprised that the queen had not remembered his village. The other part of him knew that she would have given little thought to it. Women like her tended not to concern themselves with

  such matters.

  A knock sounded at the door. Morghiad immediately stood to attention, and smoothed down his clothes. He had to be on his best behaviour now, especially if he was to achieve what needed to be achieved. “Come in.”

  A sturdy man with pale eyes and dark red hair stepped into the room. He wore the standard green tunic of the army, dotted with grey stars of faceted stone. “Master Zennar, is it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A narrow smile crept its way along the elder man’s features. “Very

  good. Your training will be under my supervision. You shall refer to me as Sergeant D’Avrohan. I shall see you two hours before dawn tomorrow. Make sure you sleep tonight. We’ll have no whoring, no drinking and no brawling. The punishment is the lash or exclusion. And I warn you, the training here will be tough for a street boy like you.” The sergeant marched out of the room as soon as he had finished his declaration, and Morghiad struggled not to laugh. After the schooling he had received, the training here would be a blazed holiday.

  The trees advanced with the speed of a sprinting army, and the twigs slapped at his face with their frozen fingers. Kalad grinned broadly as he raced through the woods, his heart thumping with great, forceful thuds. He pushed himself faster and harder, until his muscles screamed and his lungs begged him for a chance to breathe. But he could not stop. The

  flood of changing scenery and light and heat and ice and life - it was too much for him to relinquish. He was no cat like his brother and sister; Kalad was entirely and completely wolf.

  Danner was running beside him, visible only as a flash of silver amongst the undergrowth. Danner understood him. Danner knew. The smell of the air changed from dampness to cold rock, and Kalad prepared himself to leap. He gritted his teeth, reaching as far as he could with each stride he took. The broad chasm loomed beyond. He leapt to a rounded stone, jumped and soared into the air. For a moment the only

  sound was the roar of the wind against his ears, and he was flying. His body moved through the ripples of energy in the ether, it was a part of The Blazes that burned against his skin. Then came gravity.

  It urged him toward the base of the grey canyon, clutched at his ankles. But Kalad kept his focus on the other side. He would make it. It rushed towards him in a hulk of stone and dead brush. He reached out with a hand and caught the ledge. His body thumped against the cliff face below it, but he felt no discomfort. He had made it across. Reaching up with his other

  hand, he grasped at the stone above and began hauling himself up. Danner was watching him quietly when he finally clambered onto the soft grass. The wolf looked almost smug to have made it there first.

  “Your mother used to do stupid things like that.”

  The kahr followed the source of the voice to his left. He laughed. “I am nothing like my mother.” He was useless at most of the things she was good at, that the rest of the family was good at for that matter.

  Tallyn Hunter folded his arms as he approached. “Not as she is now,

  perhaps. As she was. Have you had quite enough fun running around here like a madman?”

  Kalad stood and dusted himself off. “For now. You’ve come for something.”

  “I have. The queen wants us back in Gialdin with all haste. I don’t know what it is about, but we must

  go.” A sigh escaped from the kahr’s

  throat. He loved his mother, but he often wondered how old he would have to grow before she would allow him some freedom to do as he pleased. Perhaps when he reached his

  hundredth year. How he wished he could be as lucky as Tallyn and Medea were to have each other. They could always defend the other’s actions, or share blame if they feared a telling-off. Kalad was alone. “Fine. Do you think it had anything to do with Silar haring off in the middle of the night?”

  The Hunter shrugged as he turned to trot back towards the trees. “I suppose,” he shouted, “Follow me!”

  Kahr Tallyn picked up another handful of snow, compressed it and launched it at his sister’s head. She ducked in time, and threw another of her own. He moved with plen
ty of space to avoid it, but the ball of ice followed him and smashed into his side with a chill flump. Blast her! “That’s cheating!”

  She laughed at him, entirely proud of her underhand methods. It was fortunate for him that it took her such a long time to prepare that sort of power.

  Without pausing, Tallyn withdrew his sword and scooped up the snow with its blade. Medea grinned and did the same, sprinting towards him. Their swords met with a clang, releasing the snow in a soft shower over their heads. A vigorous fight was inevitable, and the kahr grinned as he saw the first of her attacks blade-forblade. Their battles could extend for days without a clear winner, but that made them no less enjoyable. His boots soon filled with cold melt, and his clothes became soaked as their melee progressed through the gardens.

  He moved fast enough to keep

  Medea from using the invisible fires of The Crux, and waited in readiness for the first barrage of Blaze flames to hit him. When a fireball at last came his way, it didn’t take long for him to realise it wasn’t of his sister’s making. Deconstructing it rapidly, he bowed out of the fight and turned to face his mother. Medea clearly had other ideas, however, as she wrapped her foot around his ankle to trip him as he moved. He rescued himself at the last moment, and did so quite inelegantly, but he was glad to escape it without a face-full of snow.

  He blinked as he regained his

  composure; there was something different in his mother’s features. Her whole bearing had altered. The queen was smiling, and he had not seen her smile like that since...

  “Tal, Medi. I am glad to see you are both enjoying your free time.”

  Silar stood behind their mother with his arms folded. There was a smile in his eyes, too. But it was guarded.

  Tallyn did not allow himself to hope. He could not be sure until she said the words. “What is it?”

  The queen took his and Medea’s hands. “I have some good news.”

  His sister cast him a quick look, and he knew that she was thinking the same thing. But she waited for someone else to speak first. She always seemed to do that.

  “Your father is alive. He is here.” Tears trickled down from his mother’s dark eyes, and her smile was as broad as he had ever seen it.

  The kahr was swift to embrace both women tightly, and soon found himself similarly emotional. He closed his eyes as he laughed with happiness and relief; his efforts to contain his tears becoming increasingly futile. When he opened his eyes again, he

  found Silar’s steady gaze had locked upon him.

  “Tell her,” The general said. Oh dear. He knew exactly what Tallyn had done. Had he always known?

  The queen released her children and wiped the tears from her face. “Tell me what?” Puzzlement crossed her reddened features. “Wait... aren’t you curious as to how this happened?” She flicked her gaze between the two of them. “You know, don’t you?”

  “I - ah, Medea and I... we were only very young. I didn’t really know what I was doing. We made him like you, like The Hunter and Mirel and the rest of them. But we weren’t sure – we had no idea if it had worked. And after he died you seemed so convinced that he had done the right thing; that he was supposed to remain dead.”

  “You two did this?”

  They nodded.

  She made an odd sort of laugh, halfway between amusement and exasperation. “How?”

  Medea hunched her shoulders awkwardly, and looked to the ground in silence.

  “There are lines of time everywhere,” Tallyn said. “I can see them... but I needed Med to move

  them around our father.”

  The queen frowned and moved her eyes to her daughter. “And can you see these lines?”

  Medea shook her head.

  His mother returned her gaze to him. “Have you done this to anyone else?”

  “No.” A lie.

  Silar’s face was full of glowers beyond, but he remained quiet.

  “Very well,” the queen said. “I probably would have done the same if I’d had your... abilities. And I’m glad you did. Of course I am. But this sort of responsibility is unlike any other.”

  She sighed. “Is there anything else you can do that I don’t know about?”

  “I ah...” He saw her die... he could have saved Talia. He could have prevented so much hurt. “I don’t know yet.” He could not afford to disappoint her again, not when she had only just begun to smile. “So he must be young, younger than we are?”

  His mother nodded. “He won’t remember you or me or any of us for a few years yet. And he seems to have developed quite a sour attitude to me already.”

  Artemi is the beauty and perfection of fire made human, their

  father had said. She could burn a hundred-thousand hearts with one of her tears. Kahr Tallyn very nearly grimaced in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Silar stepped forward to join them. “He always was a grumpy sod at that age. I doubt it has anything to do with you, my lady.”

  “You doubt?” What had happened to the general’s pronouncements on their father’s future actions? Where was his certainty?

  The queen drew her mouth to one side. “Your father has a way of

  masking his intentions, it seems. Should make this a little more fun though, don’t you think?”

  The general rolled his eyes. “Listen. We need to be careful. I’ll explain why later. Medea, Temi – I need to have a word in private with Tal first. I’ll follow you shortly, if I may.”

  His mother looked between them briefly, but smiled in approval. “As you wish.” She linked arms with his sister as they turned to leave, and the two women ambled off into the snow. They walked like dark shadows cast by moving light.

  Silar’s brow was quick to furrow once the women were out of earshot. “I know what you’ve done, lad, and you must undo it. I want you to put me back the way you found me, and do it soon.”

  “My mother needs you.”

  “No. She has never needed anyone. Not really. And she has your father now.”

  “And they would both be distraught if you were gone.”

  The general spoke through gritted teeth. “That is how life is – normal life! I don’t want another blasted life after this one! How would I spend it? Mooning after your mother

  again? Bloody blazes, Tal! I’ve had enough years of that.”

  Tallyn was lost for words. “I just... I want...”

  “I know.” Silar placed a hand on his shoulder. “You must stop this business of trying to please everyone. It is an impossible thing to achieve. When you are king, you will have to make decisions that upset people.”

  “But my father will be king again, surely? If my mother re-marries him-”

  “He will be her consort,” the general finished. “He bent many rules to secure her role as queen across

  several lives, to ensure she would hold the throne after him. You should see the Act of Succession – it’s covered in bloody crossings-out and amendments! Your mother is a very singular exception. No other vanha-sielu has the right to reclaim the rank of their previous life – imagine the mess it would cause if they could! Just about every country in this world has that written down somewhere. And remember that this new Morghiad is not of Jade’an blood, and he would be marrying a D’Avrohan. That means you are still the next king.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  Silar chuckled. It grew into a laugh. “Ah, that’s what he used to say.” He clapped an arm around Tallyn’s shoulders. “What we need to do is find you a woman to distract you from the woes of your duties.”

  “I don’t have time for that. Medea needs me. She can’t ever marry and it wouldn’t be fair-”

  “I told you: stop trying to please everyone. She’ll do better without you watching her every move.”

  “But you said-”

  “That was before your father came back. Things are different now. It’s time we gave her a taste of

  independence, don’t you think?”


  Perhaps it was. But he hated not knowing where she was. He was supposed to look after her. He hadn’t been separated from her in years! She wouldn’t like it either, but of course that would chime with Silar’s new philosophy. Sack trying to please everyone, why not just upset those he cared about instead?

  Artemi growled under her breath and paced the length of the room again. She had tried everything with her daughter: encouragement, admonishment, advice, toughness, softness. Nothing seemed to work. “I do not understand you, Med! You have everything. You are an excellent fighter, clever, beautiful - you have the

  love of your family...” Artemi leaned on the desk to meet her daughter’s green eyes. “You are one of the strongest wielders ever to have lived. Why can’t you... argue with me?!” Medea looked at the surface of the desk. She looked upset again, and that made Artemi feel like the cruellest mother on Earth. “I... do not have thousands of years of experience.” The queen struggled not to curse. “Sometimes that can do me more harm than good.” She softened her voice. “I am not always right, Med. Come with me.” She held out her hand to take her daughter’s, feeling the ice