The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle
Page 135
Morghiad’s mind filled with confusion. “You can see it?” They’d shaken hands; Lord-General Silar Forllan was no kanaala.
“I could see that she was in a mood to make me look a mug.”
“There’s no need to make you
look like one, general. I was just testing that your abilities were still intact.”
He frowned. “Some of them. Can we please continue now?”
Lady D’Avrohan beamed and dissolved the form, but her general took one last examination of her expression before he recommenced his walk.
“That is why he is an excellent general, Master Zennar,” she whispered, “That, and very bigheaded.”
“I know what you said!” he called back.
That worried Morghiad more
than he would have liked. He had severely underestimated this man and the accuracy of what he foresaw. What if they already knew? And if they did, would these two lie to conceal their subsequent retribution from him? Would they taunt him with it until he was driven into making another mistake? Blazes! And why did she tease her general as if they were children in a playground, when he was quite clearly captivated by her? Lovers either hid their relationship or paraded it, never anything in between. Could it be that these two did not share a bed? Morghiad looked at her again.
She smiled back, warmly. No, her grins at the general were not like that one. They did not feel like that, either to watch or receive. And that meant Calidell’s whore queen did not sleep with the man she was closest to. She did not lie with the man she called her father, and The Hunter was clearly not sufficiently sated or controlled to keep his eyes from other women. Just whom did this woman take to her bed?
A feeling of unease swept over him then. Did she mean to have him? Was this why he had been placed so close to her? He grimaced inwardly. The entire situation was a mess.
A blond lieutenant, perhaps a few inches shorter than Morghiad, was waiting for them when they arrived. He had a smile very much like Toryn’s. “Sister!” he exclaimed, “Do I have some soldiers for you!” He offered a polite nod to the general, and a hand to Morghiad. “Sidav, but you can call me Lieutenant D’Avrohan.”
The green-eyed man did not bother with a smile, and instead appraised his new acquaintance’s weaponry. “That is a nice sword.” And it was. Clearly it had seen some considerable use, but the hilt was of far better quality than the blade he had
been given upon his admittance to the army. The scabbard was a handsome thing.
“Ah... yes. Left to me by an old friend. Now, why don’t we take a look at this squad of yours, Temi?”
“Show me.” She waved a hand absent-mindedly, though the focus in her eyes was intense.
An apparently disordered group of male and female soldiers had already snapped themselves into a line of starry, dark green. No single individual seemed to have the same height as any other, and Sidav began with the tallest of them. “May I introduce Master
Koviere Dohsal: a blades master and a man guaranteed to see over the head of any enemy?”
The giant made a small bow and a broad grin. Morghiad was not sure if he liked being in the presence of a man so tall. He really was not used to having to look up at anybody; not since he’d been fourteen years of age, anyway.
“Next,” Sidav continued, “Orwin Mendrelle: my predecessor, pretty boy and most difficult-to-please lieutenant in the Calidellian army.”
Orwin laughed. “My lady.” He bowed. He bloody well was a pretty
boy. Morghiad fought off a grimace.
“And Beetan – oh, how do I describe Beetan?” Sidav’s voice wandered as he stood before the smirkladen, orange-haired man.
But Beetan answered him: “Bigger than most men, and alas too big for many women. It is a curse, my lady, a terrible curse I bear!”
“More like a frightened tree shrew and a pair of peanuts. We’ve all seen you in the showers,” the scarfaced man next to him said. The rest of the room erupted in fits of giggles. Light of Achellon, how old were these warriors supposed to be?
“And this,” Sidav said, clearing his throat, “is of course, Jarynd Farpike: experienced kanaala, excellent horseman and famed romancer of women.”
“I shall have to watch out for him.” The former queen winked at the wiry man.
Lieutenant D’Avrohan continued to list the names and attributes of another eleven soldiers before he came to the final three. “Demeta Rosvanni: relatively new to the sword, but a fast learner and skilled wielder.”
The woman, clearly with some years on her, made an elegant curtsey
in her soldier’s finery. She was sharpfaced and narrow-eyed, but looked strong. But the former queen had moved her gaze to the next woman before Sidav had finished the introduction.
“And this is Korali di Certa. She is a very good swordswoman... and...” The lieutenant’s voice drifted.
“And most of her family are my son’s prisoners. I need loyal soldiers. Are you loyal, Lady di Certa?”
“As loyal as I have proven myself to be these last twenty years,” the young woman said, “Many years ago, I gave you my cloak when I had
nothing else in my possession, my lady. I would do the same again for you, if the need arose.” And she was sweet to look at. Who could not believe the words that came from those rosebud lips?
Lady D’Avrohan nodded slowly. “I gave you no choice in the matter, but I will not forget the kindness. You are welcome amongst us, Korali.” The women exchanged warm smiles, but as soon as their mistress moved to inspect the final soldier, di Certa’s good humour evaporated, and her eyes snapped onto Morghiad. She seemed to almost... glower at him. What had he
done to deserve that?
The last soldier was announced, an arrogant-looking man with a high chin and eyes of the same ultramarine as General Forllan. His sword hilt was unusual in its ruby-ribbon wrapping. Some said that the colour was a symbol for republican sentiment. “Lord Seffe Forllan,” Sidav said, “Reliable swordhand and kanaala... brother of our general. You know the rest.”
In the corner of the room, Silar shifted slightly.
At last the inspection had come to a close. “I am very impressed,” his mistress exclaimed. “Have your
uniforms ready, but do not wear them out when we leave. You will need dark clothing and run-ready horses. We depart at first light tomorrow morning.”
“You’ve taken half of my best swords, Temi,” the general whispered as they left, “I do not appreciate being stranded here with no queen and four fewer kanaala.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m taking them to do good. Those swords should not be sat idle...”
He sighed. “No use in my arguing, anyway. But listen, he may be my brother, but do not trust Seffe as far as you can throw him – well, as far
as a child could throw him. He thinks bad thoughts about you, Artemi, and I don’t like it.”
“Oh, would you get over your stupid rivalry with him, Silar!? Seffe is fine. Crude sometimes, but fine.” She shook her mane of red-gold hair for emphasis.
General Forllan clenched his jaw. “Morghiad, if she won’t listen to me then at least make sure that you do. Watch Seffe. Watch him around Artemi. Even fighters as good as she is have their vulnerabilities. Keep her safe for me.”
Her look at the general was
fierce, to say the least.
“As you command.” Morghiad kept his voice admirably solemn. How fascinating that this soft limpet of a general was prepared to fight with his family over a woman who would not have him. And what sort of thoughts was Seffe conjuring? Perhaps the younger lord could be useful to his plans. Mirel had recommended dispatching Lord Silar Forllan, but what better way to do it than to make the former queen directly responsible? There had to be a way to engineer it.
The soft sound of breathing touched Artemi’s ears again. It was a sound she had missed deeply, horribly over the last few years. It was the sound of her husband sleeping. Given that she had already bathed, dress
ed and had sat down to write, it really was not acceptable that her bodyguard should still be asleep. But she missed
seeing him look so content and peaceful. As well as handsome. His brief time and harsh training here had allowed him to grow into his body, so that his arms had hardened and his shoulders had broadened. Fire and ash, why couldn’t she just tie him to her bed and have done with him?! Would he mind? Or would that be too close to Mirel’s methods? Blast that woman! It was not fair that the woman, that woman, still came into consideration now that she was caged.
The dark creature of Artemi’s thoughts was pacing again. It always seemed to awaken whenever she
looked upon Morghiad. She had begun to think it wanted him almost as much as she did, though probably for less favourable reasons. She tore her eyes away and looked back at her writing. A few more scrawls were required to complete the order which, she had no doubt, would surprise many when they saw it. Still, such tactics were necessary when Morghiad seemed so utterly repulsed by her. “Keep your allures many and varied, and one of them will be sure to take his heart,” a mistress of the brothels had once told her. Of course, Artemi had thrown that particular nugget into her mental
dustbin at the time, thinking she would never require it. What an odd sense of humour fate had.
She thought back to her discussion with Silar the day before. Morghiad had been wandering the woods without due leave, and she had been half-dazed without her most recent memories. Her general’s beardcovered face had been marked with lines of concern and weariness as he spoke to her. He seemed to think that her former husband harboured some sort of anger against her, and quite a lot of it. What had she done to incite that?
An exasperated sigh escaped,
and it was enough to finally rouse her bodyguard. Artemi hurriedly sealed her note.
“You’re up already?” he croaked, green eyes shining from between crumpled eyelids.
“If that’s what it looks like. You seemed to be enjoying your rest.” And she was quite enjoying the view. His blanket had slipped to his waist.
Morghiad hurriedly covered himself more comprehensively. “I see. Well...ah, my apologies. Would you mind... while I bathed?”
“Not at all.” Artemi sat back in her chair and folded her arms.
“I meant – while there is the opportunity for it, please could I have some privacy?”
No. There was no question about it. Morghiad had absolutely no desire for her whatsoever. She nodded politely at his request and moved to the other room. As she walked away, the name struck her again: Felis Hasarde. How it irritated her that she could not remember him! Was she really becoming so old that she could not recall such basic things? She took a brief glance back at Morghiad, and caught sight of his nicely rounded bottom. It still wasn’t the right time to
ask him about this Felis man yet. Not until he started being more honest with her.
Their first duty before the sun rose was to visit the vault. One of the wielding flowers had survived the battle at Cadra, and Artemi wanted her squad to have it while they ranged the countryside.
“What do you feel about Cadra?” Morghiad asked her as they marched up the spire.
“The battle? It is not something I can easily put into words.”
“It was the greatest single massacre in any living person’s
lifetime.”
Artemi halted, breath rapidly draining from her lungs. It had been horrific. And the way their deaths had felt...“I am not proud of it, if that is what you think. They were soldiers; they marched into battle against us, knowing they might die. More would have died subsequently if we had not done... what we did. And what happened here at the old Gialdin was far worse, I can assure you. Children died in that battle. Families.”
“That was a Calidellian army, was it not?”
“An army controlled by a
heartless man.”
Morghiad shrugged a shoulder. “Must be very reassuring for all those Hirrahan widows to know that you had a heart when you did what you did.”
She certainly had been in possession of a heart in that battle. “What is this about, Private Zennar?”
He chewed at his lip. “Did General Forllan tell you to do it?”
“Not really.” Artemi commenced walking again.
“And given his talents, how can you be sure he did not manipulate the conversation at the time, so that it sounded like someone else’s idea?”
“He wouldn’t do that. And he couldn’t. The idea came from my husband.”
Morghiad pressed on, “Wouldn’t that be a perfect cover? Forllan cares for you. Surely he would go to any lengths to keep you alive, even if it required deception.”
“Silar does not make a habit of lying to people.” Unlike someone else.
“What is your relationship to him?”
Fury erupted in Artemi then; great, towering fires of wild anger. The black creature of nightmares was wide awake, clawing to escape. She had to
tense every muscle in her body to keep it from running riot with her powers again. “Friends. Close friends. Nothing more,” she seethed. “Not that it is your business.”
“You said I could ask anything as part of our deal.”
And she had earned the right to many return questions from this exchange. She used the thought to calm her ire as much as possible, and tried to push her emotions away. The creature still prowled. Why was he so interested in her relationship with Silar, anyway? Could it be...? “He kissed me once. Years ago. It was a mistake. That is
all.” It was probably better to tell him about that sooner rather than later, she reflected. Though, she still found herself steeling against an angry reaction.
“Oh,” was all he said. There was absolutely no trace of jealousy or concern in either his face or voice.
They were soon at the vault door, and Artemi took the opportunity to quiz him. “Were your parents kind to you?”
“What do you define as kindness?”
That was a no then. “Well, did they reassure you when you were sad,
give you cheer when you were unhappy?”
“Did they coddle me? No.”
“Then, when you asked why I treated my sons differently, you were complimenting the way I handled Kalad?”
Morghiad’s green eyes briefly moved to the opening door before them. “As you said, he needs it.”
Artemi was not sure if she found that more disturbing than his disapproval. Perhaps she could find a way to soften the coldness, to make him see the benefits of love. An embrace was probably too much at this stage. Blazes, even skin-to-skin contact of any kind was probably too much for him. She strode forward into the broad, airy vault of treasures, and found the little fire flower. It still sang with its own excitement at the power it could reap. She tucked it into the top of her bodice and turned to check on her bodyguard. He had clearly found something of interest, as he was staring intently at it.
“Mirel’s blades,” Artemi remarked as she came to stand by him. One gale sword lay partially melted, broken in two pieces. “Not much use to her now.”
“How did that happen?”
“She and I got into a little fight. I won.” Artemi smiled in spite of herself. She shouldn’t have felt so proud of it. But she did.
Morghiad stared at them for a moment longer. He was transfixed. “Can I have them?”
“No. They were made for her; far too small for you.”
He sighed and stood back. “I didn’t think it was possible to destroy things made with Blaze.”
“Few things are truly indestructible.”
He glanced at her thigh. “And
that dagger? It’s made with Blaze, too, isn’t it?”
Artemi touched it without thinking. The forms locked within it vibrated against her fingers. She removed it from her holster. “Would you like it?”
He blinked. “To keep?”
“Of course. Don’t lose it though; it’s one of a kind.” She pressed the hilt into his
hand and closed his fingers around it.
A frown spread across his forehead. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Time was running out before they had to leave. “Let’s be
gone. I have to say goodbye to my children, or they’ll think I do not care about them.”
He gave her a funny sort of look, almost disbelief, and thrust the dagger into the back of his belt. Not so much as a thank you.
Tallyn was the first of her children that she called upon. He appeared to be rather pre-occupied and strung with his new role. Artemi gave him a long squeeze and several reassurances, before meeting with her other son. Much like his father, she found him sleeping and groggy. Clearly he was still suffering the excesses of
the previous night. He only muttered a brief, “Bye, then,” and shut the door.
Artemi let out a long sigh, and hoped for a better reception from her daughter. But when she found Medea, the kahriss was anxious and evidently had not slept the entire night. “I need to speak to you. Alone,” she said, and motioned her mother into her room while Morghiad was left to stand guard outside. Her chamber, however, was covered from wall-to-wall in scraps of paper. Every single sheet had symbols and equations written upon it. Artemi bent down to pick one up. “What is this?” They looked like energy