The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

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The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 131

by H. O. Charles


  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. The time for change is now.” She marched back to the table and placed her hands on her hips. “Listen up, lads – and ladies-” she glanced briefly to Sindra and Caala. “Tonight I am stepping down from my role as queen. Tallyn shall take over from me. He is more than ready for the task.” Mouths

  dropped open all the way along the table, and the kahr dropped his fork. “But before I resign from the entirety of my command, I have some final instructions. First, I want my own squad of soldiers: good ones, but no more than twenty. Koviere and The Hunter will be among them. Second, my name must be permanently removed from The Act of Succession. I must have no claim to this throne in any future lives. Third, Morghiad must take his oaths tomorrow and be placed under my direct supervision. I don’t care whether you make him a private in my squad or my own bloody

  bodyguard. It’s time I taught him some manners and some respect, at the very least.”

  Artemi folded her arms with obvious satisfaction at her words, and waited for someone to break the silence that ensued.

  Pavon cleared his throat. “Ah – may I ask what you intend to do with this team of swords?”

  The Fireblade smiled broadly. “Get rid of bad people, of course.”

  “And are there any in particular you would like to be rid of?”

  Koviere’s deep laugh boomed across the room. “There’s always a

  good supply to be had out there. My lady, I would be honoured to join you.”

  She nodded with approval, and then blinked as Orwin stood.

  “I would like to join you too.”

  “And I.” Beetan stood beside him. He was rapidly followed by the other six lieutenants present.

  The queen’s forehead creased. “I’m touched, but I cannot steal all of Calidell’s lieutenants – who would be left to mind the city and my children? Not forgetting that several of you have wives who do not fight. This will not be like marching to war, gentlemen. I need my squad to be mobile.”

  “I’m not married, and there’s plenty of top sergeants to take my place.” Orwin nodded towards Sidav.

  “I think you’ll also find I’m newly single, available and responsibility-free.” Beetan winked. “And Orwin’s right. It’s time to let some new blood through. Besides, I’ve always wanted to know what a woman would look like with four stripes on her breast.”

  She sighed. “Fine. Orwin and Beetan, you’re in. Make sure you find good replacements for yourselves. Jarynd, you may join on two conditions. First, you must find

  yourself a replacement who is kanaala. Second, you must find me a wielder who knows how to use a sword.”

  He nodded rapidly, gleefully. “I know just the people, my lady.”

  “Very well. That makes seven. Find me the other thirteen swords and I’ll be happy.”

  Tallyn Hunter gazed around the room with some satisfaction. He was rather excited about this new mood that had prevailed. Few things compared to the thrill of adventure, or the freedom of travelling, or the surge of the hunt. His blades had stayed dry for far too long. He cast an eye along the row of

  smiling, confused and disappointed faces. The most prominent of them was his namesake’s. The young, greeneyed and much put-upon kahr looked as if he was about to revisit the contents of his stomach.

  Artemi gazed fondly at her engagement dagger; its silvery blue blade glinted in the cold light of morning. It was the first time in years she had looked at her possessions as an ordinary woman again. She no longer had to bear being given ridiculous titles and overly reverent bows, nor did she have to face pronouncing judgement upon wielders who’d been less fortunate than herself. She felt a touch of guilt at divesting those responsibilities to her son, but knew that he was better-suited to ruling than she could ever be. Tallyn was the sort of person who loved all people. Artemi was not sure that she was the same. She tucked her dagger into its thigh holster and stepped into the corridor beyond. Already servants were waiting to move her things from the

  rooms she had occupied for so long, and to install the few possessions her son had. She felt a little sad to be leaving the apartments that held so many memories, but also glad that she now had an opportunity to make new ones. Her eldest son already had a hand in most of the country’s business, so the handover was not quite so traumatic as it could have been. There were just a few small details to be tied off, and the matter of placating one or two objectors. Silar would, no doubt, have his own opinions on the matter... assuming he had not already foreseen her decision. When he came back, that

  was. The new king would have much need of him and the longer LordGeneral Forllan remained absent, the more difficult things became.

  The doors of the offices had always brought her a degree of apprehension when she saw them, but today their sight made her smile. She pushed them open slowly and made her way to the desk: Morghiad’s desk. Five documents had been laid out for her. Solemnly she took up her canal pen, and began to sign each of them.

  THUNK

  A roughened body stumbled through the doors and landed in a

  messy pile before her. How typical that her last duties here would be complicated by some other event. She sighed and got up to investigate. Her breath was stolen from her, however, when she turned the man over. “Silar? What follocking-well happened to you?”

  His eyes flickered open slowly. He tried to speak, and failed. His face was covered by a short beard, and his hair was filthy.

  Artemi checked over his body for injuries, pulling his muddied coat away from his body. A length of rusted metal, at least as long as two of her

  daggers, jutted out from his side. “What is this?”

  He mumbled something as she tore his shirt open.

  “Bloody idiot. How long has it been like this? You could have had this seen to before now, surely? Stupid, stupid man.” She heaved his torso up to remove the rest of his coat, and attempted to check his back. “Well, it hasn’t gone all the way through. That is something.” Artemi tried to let him back onto the floor, but he remained upright.

  “Temi... had to wait. Something about this bloody thing.” He groaned

  and tried to stand. “Don’t destroy it.”

  “Alright! Just stay still! Here.” She swept the documents from the desk and helped him onto it. “Just lie there and don’t move.”

  The general gave her a pained chuckle. “I do like it when you fuss over me.”

  Artemi made sure she gave him a fierce look for his idiocy. “It’s not like I’ve been given a choice.” She prodded the area around his wound. It felt hard, but the edges were smooth and moving. Clearly his body still had enough energy to heal itself. That was a good sign. She gave the metal bar a

  good tug.

  “Agh! Bloody light, woman! Don’t you think I’ve already tried that?”

  “Shut up, Silar.”

  He smiled at her, which was somehow more worrying.

  “I’m going to have to wield to get this out. It’ll-”

  “Hurt. I know. Just do it.”

  The fires poured into her almost as a reflex, and before making any forms she used her power to sense around the object that had lodged in the general’s side. It was a curious thing with an end that curved around at rightangles. She wrought the fires into forms that would cut carefully through his skin, and began to excise the metal. Dimly she could hear Silar hissing through gritted teeth, but she was more concerned that he remained still. One jolt and she could cut his body in two. The bar had lodged itself behind several of his ribs, which meant that the only way she could remove it was by slicing through those as well. “Sorry Si,” she muttered, before whipping through his tissues as if he were a hog for butchering.

  His groan of complaint was not an easy thing to listen to, but he stayed

  still with admirable control. With the exit clear, Artemi deftly ripped the offending piece of metal from him and held it aloft. Blood dripped noisily from its end. She looked back to his wound, and noted that it wa
s healing up steadily. “You ought to take some swift before you go to bed.”

  “Light of Achellon. Is it out?”

  “It certainly is.” She turned the metal object onto its side. Oddly, it looked as if his blood had cleaned the rust from its surface.

  He forced himself up on one elbow. “Is having children anything like that?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm.” He reached across and took the bar from her, wiping some of the blood from its surface. “There’s writing on here – I think it’s one of your languages.”

  Artemi looked at it closely.

  Tarrin ca nhori’in d-. The rest of it had been cut off at the curved end of the bar. “It means, ‘The fire that binds is...’ something.” The shape of the metal object sparked a memory, but she could not identify it.

  “You know what it is, don’t you?” The general’s breathing was becoming laboured once more. “You

  know – just as you knew that man’s name. You’re the key to this. You are the one who knows who killed your sister. You have to concentrate – work it out.” He reached up to brush a finger against her cheek. “I can see it in your mind. It is the mind that I love. I love you, Artemi Fireblade.”

  She moved his hand away. “Stop!” It was easier to look instead at the bar in her grip. And yet no blazed answers would manifest themselves in her mind! “What else did you see up there?”

  No answer came. Silar had passed out on the desk.

  A noise came from her right; someone was opening the door to the offices. Artemi hurriedly threw the bar into a desk drawer and stood. A dark boot stepped into the room, followed by a second, a pair of long legs and a dark green tunic. It was Morghiad. He blinked only briefly at the scene before him. “I knocked but there was no reply so... I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

  Artemi glanced back at Silar, topless and slightly bloodied on the broad desk. The general had maintained a rather impressive torso through his near-century of living,

  which only served to make her feel more embarrassed. “Ah-” She cleared her throat. “He has just returned from a very long and difficult journey. I was just... never mind. Let’s see if we can find an army medic to deal with him.” She strode as confidently as she could towards the army’s newest recruit and made to walk through the door, but he blocked her exit. She pulled a face at him. “Is there something amiss, Master – Private Zennar?” Of course, he’d taken his oaths and was now assuming his place as her sworded attendant.

  He gave her a look of puzzlement. “I think you should know

  there’s, ah, something on your cheek, my lady.”

  Artemi reached up to her face with a clean but tentative hand.

  “No, here.” He moved her wrist farther back, which sent sparks of Blaze echoing down her arm.

  Her face was damp, and when she pulled her fingers away she found them covered in more blood. Blasted general must have left it there. Just how much more incriminating could this scene possibly look?

  “My lady, he is still alive, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. He is. He’d better be.”

  She flashed a quick form of Blaze over her face to clean it, and stepped past him to the hallway. A pair of guards were waiting outside. That was good. “The Lord General was injured on his last mission. I would appreciate it if one of you could send for Aglos with all haste. The other one ought to remain here.”

  “Aye, Lady Fireblade.” The youngest of them sprinted off down the corridor.

  “It’s D’Avrohan! D’Avrohan!” she called after him. She might as well honour that name while her father still

  Her new bodyguard eyed her carefully. “May I speak?”

  “Go on.”

  “Is that D’Avrohan as in Sergeant D’Avrohan?”

  Artemi struggled to keep the surprise from surfacing on her face. “Yes. He is my father.”

  “Oh.” The young man moved his gaze away, frown lines littering his forehead. He looked back. “And Fireblade, as in the books?”

  Artemi sighed. This was becoming uncomfortable, and would undoubtedly sail too close to vanhasielu waters. “An affectation. Do you

  have any other questions for me?”

  “Why are you no longer the queen? And should I still address you as ‘my lady,’ my lady?”

  “My lady is unnecessary, but acceptable. Just be sure to adhere to my orders when I issue them. And I am no longer queen because I have other duties, of which you shall be a part. Speaking of which, what exactly have your superiors instructed you to do?”

  Morghiad took a short breath. “I must remain at your side, night and day – until I am relieved.”

  “That’s it?”

  He nodded.

  “No leave or time to sleep?”

  “If I desire sleep I am to take my rest where you see fit or, if you do not designate a place for me, I am to sleep at your door.”

  Artemi burst out with laughter, which her bodyguard did not share in. Not even a hint of amusement touched his features. Slowly she drew her emotions under control. “Ah, they are very mischievous, those army boys.”

  “They seem to be trying to humiliate me.”

  “You think that guarding me is humiliating?”

  Morghiad refrained from saying any more. He did not have to, for Aglos was soon hurtling towards them on his stocky legs. He made an odd sort of bow before them.

  “Our general’s in the office. The wound is healed but he needs some swift and rest. Make sure he actually takes some time to recover, won’t you?”

  The curly haired medic nodded and bundled himself through the doors. Artemi could feel those cold green eyes studying her once more. In a previous life she might have allowed those stares to go unquestioned, but not this time.

  “Yes?”

  Her bodyguard shifted his feet briefly. “The king married the daughter of a soldier?”

  “Doesn’t anyone in this country gossip?” She pulled a frown at his implacable face. “Obviously not. How about we have a deal? I shall answer whatever peculiar questions you have of me and, in return, you can tell me something of your upbringing. Does that sound fair?”

  His mouth moved to one side of his clean-shaven face. “Why would you want to know about that?”

  Artemi arched an eyebrow.

  “Why would you want to know about a soldier’s daughter?”

  “Fine,” he said, almost with disgust.

  She shot him one of her broadest smiles, and began to walk towards her eldest son’s rooms. The new king’s old apartments were awash with hurrying servants when the former queen arrived. Tallyn was among the cloud of blue, looking somewhat bewildered. “Sire.” Artemi made a smooth curtsey and dipped her head. Morghiad also made a neat bow behind her.

  “Oh, not you two! Please!

  Everyone else, but not you!” Her son raked a hand through his bronzecoloured hair and grimaced.

  She smiled and clutched his hand in both of hers. It sparked with soft, meandering flames. “You have had a lifetime of being the kahr. Really, this shouldn’t feel so different.”

  “There’s a hundred-thousand miles of difference, mother.” He leaned in to whisper, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for this.”

  “Nonsense. I should have handed over the responsibility years ago.”

  He straightened and chewed his

  lip. “I will do the best that I can but, please, don’t... bow at me! And don’t call me ‘sire.’ It’s Tal or Tallyn or son or whatever else.”

  Artemi smiled and squeezed his hand a little tighter. She really was very proud indeed. “As you command.”

  He rolled his eyes at her. “I have a speech to prepare – if you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Do you need some help?”

  “You always said my father was the best at this.”

  That was true; Morghiad had an incredible skill for words and delivering them appropriately. “Well, why don’t

  we ask his lookalike?” She turned to her bodyguard. “Ho
w would you address your public as a new king?”

  The young man looked rather stunned. “Ah... Iwould... ah. Tell them...” He folded his arms and stared at the floor. “Tell them that you will lower taxes.”

  “Our taxes are at a four-century low.” Artemi shook her head and turned back to her son. “Alright, don’t listen to him. Just... be confident. Remember you are their servant and not their master, but that no one else in this world is better-equipped to do the job than you are.” She gave him a final squeeze, a goodbye and made her exit. Her son would do very well as the new King of Calidell, she was sure. He was not tough or firm, but kind. People always seemed to like kind kings.

  “Morghiad?”

  He paced a touch faster so that he could walk by her side.

  “I think it is time that you and I had a good, old-fashioned sword fight.”

  A brief smile flitted across his face. “I hear you are unbeatable.”

  “Well, that is not true, but I’ll be enough of a challenge for you. Come on, I’ll race you to the practice hall.” As Artemi loped ahead through the

  glossy light of the white halls, she felt the same thrill of freedom she had last known decades ago. Now she was at liberty to act in whatever undignified, silly and un-queen-like manner she wished, and damn anyone who wanted to comment! Her feet were pounding the surface of the Crux-wrought floor with far too much noise, but she could hear Morghiad’s footsteps rapidly closing in behind her. She gave him a quick glance and a wink, but he appeared too focused even to notice. Artemi moved her sight back to the corridor ahead and powered forward even faster, her grin pulling her

 

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