“Three years!?” He would come close to reclaiming his memories in that time. Anything could happen to him in that time! “Then I should go with him.”
Silar shook his head. “And not see your children?”
“I could still leave him every few months and visit!”
The general folded his arms. He looked utterly weary. “You cannot
leave the country. At least, not without causing some irreparable damage. There are two large battles coming, and you must be there for each with your squad intact.”
But... this was not fair! “We have only just gotten him back.”
“I know,” His look was pitiful. “But it’s not forever.” Even Tallyn and Medea looked apologetic, and they were the ones about to lose their father for a second time.
“Can’t you keep him in a cell?”
Silar sighed heavily and his features appeared to sink deeper into his face, if that was possible. “Toryn
will find a way to kill him, if he can. We’ve had to lock Tor up to prevent him from doing anything unwise, but we cannot do that for much longer. He feels Morghiad is responsible for Talia’s death, in addition to the other crimes. It will take three years just for him to see some sense. And this banishment has other benefits, aside from keeping various members of your family from knifing each other. No doubt Morghiad experienced some confusing thoughts about you, and he will need some time to come to terms with those.”
“Bloody light, imagine being
attracted to a woman whom you thought was your mother!” Medea blurted.
Artemi still felt very guilty about the vigour with which she had pursued her former husband. No wonder he had been so disturbed by every effort she had made. “Three years,” she whispered. It was almost laughable. The time was nothing in comparison to the lives she had lived through, and yet it appeared to stretch before her like another ten thousand winters. “I must go to him. And afterwards I want you, general, to come with me on a visit to The Daisain. I shall need your help.”
“I will be there,” he said solemnly.
Before long she was stood at the three mouths that led to the three underground prisons. The far right would take her to Mirel, and she had no desire to visit that woman at any point in the near future. The left would take her to The Daisain, but she did not have the strength to face him alone. The middle tunnel was the one she required. A string of guards encircled the cell in which he had been placed, and Artemi saw to dismissing them well out of earshot. Husband or assassin, her words for him were hers alone.
He stood for her as she neared, and straightened his coat as well as he was able. Already two days of stubble growth had started to darken his jaw, even though there remained a fairly boyish quality to his looks. She smiled sadly at the scene. Here he was in gaol, exactly where he had wanted to be all those years ago. Morghiad had always been so desirous of whatever punishment he could draw upon himself, and his attempt to kill her during his madness had been no exception. She still recalled the dedication he had applied in resuming his tasks of hard labour when they had
first settled in New Gialdin. I still have a year of this to complete, my heart, he would say – even after many months of the sentence had been finished. That had been a battle she could not win with him.
A single torch was all that was left to light the chamber. The orange fire seemed such a rare sight after the blue illumination of the palace. “Are you well fed here?” she asked. A silly question, really. More for fluff than necessity of an answer.
He did not meet her eyes. “As well as any prisoner deserves.”
“Morghiad - I came here to tell
you what your sentence is likely to be, and I wanted to offer my apologies for the way I pursued you. Regardless of what you believed to be true about me, I should never have put so much pressure upon you. It’s just... I have been alone for a very long time, and you reminded me of a man I loved very much. I am a pitiable, old woman, in truth. I would ask you to forgive me.”
“There is nothing about you that is pitiable, Artemi D’Avrohan.” This time his eyes seem to hold hers firmly in place. He smiled. “But you are rather old.”
She emitted a small laugh and stepped forward to grip the white rails. “You must pay for what you have done to my son, though. You have a great debt to him for that.”
“I know.”
“You will be banished from this country as part of your penalty, and that banishment will last for some years.”
His eyes widened momentarily at that, before dropping to the floor again.
“But while you are gone, there is something I want you to do for me. Or rather for Kalad. The wolf you...” she
paused as he shifted uncomfortably. “The wolf was very special, but you may be able to find another just like him. I am going to find out where he is, but you must be the one to track him down and send him here. Will you do that?”
Morghiad nodded rapidly. “Of course. But will I be able to say goodbye? There is someone I need to tell about this.”
“Whom?”
“A woman – Jurala. I am, or was, engaged to her.”
Artemi’s mouth very nearly dropped to the floor, and her hands
began to slip upon the rails. “You didn’t mention her before,” she croaked.
“I was instructed not to.” Blazes! Had The Daisain arranged this? Why else would he have
permitted it? The old master truly had worked hard to ensure that Morghiad’s heart would never belong to Artemi. A sudden wave of anger tore through her muscles; that and a great deal of bitterness. Who was this woman!? She would crush her! This Jasinta or Jurinna or whatever her name was would soon know what it meant to take a man from Artemi Fireblade! Burn her to ashes! The former queen fought to regain some element of calm, but largely failed. “You may write to her, if you require. I must go now.” She could not stand to look at his face any longer: a face that another woman had enjoyed throughout Artemi’s extended period of mourning and utter ignorance of her husband’s survival. Blasted woman!
“My lady?”
“I shall see you again before you leave. Goodbye, Morghiad.” At least he was still too young for nalka. That was something. Artemi did not like to think what she would do if she discovered another woman had gone as far as
bedding him. As long as... oh, fires of fires, there had to be a way of making sure that he endured his banishment alone. She fumed as she paced down the hallway, offered the soldiers a weak smile and a thank you, and then very nearly collided with Silar at the exit.
“I am here,” he said exultantly. “Bad news from Morghiad, I see. Don’t worry. You are the prettiest woman ever to have lived, and that has to count for something.”
Artemi pulled a face of disgust. “Right. You know why you’re down here. I want that information out of him, and I don’t want to turn into a
gibbering sponge while we get it. Will it work?”
The general tilted his head. “I believe so... And it’s alright. I do not think any less of you.”
Less of her? She was about to ask why he might, but then realised he was referring to the future. She was going to do something embarrassing. Wonderful. “Well, let us get it over with.”
“Indeed.” Silar led the way toward The Daisain’s place of imprisonment. The structure was, quite unsurprisingly, crafted with Medea’s rather skilful weavings of Crux crystal
and entirely solid but for a hole for food. No one could see the man inside, and no one could hear him beyond the Blaze wall of sound proofing. He would have some considerable difficulty in predicting or manipulating anyone’s actions from in there. But Artemi had to admit that she felt a certain sadness at the sight of it. She felt wrong for having permitted his captivity.
One of the kanaala soldiers deconstructed the partition at their request, followed by the sound wall. A wielder stood ready to rebuild them.
“Daisain,” Artemi called.
“Fireblade,” he echoed back to her. “Y
ou ought not to be alive.”
No, that had been a terrible mistake. She immediately dropped to her knees. “I am sorry. Forgive me.” Not worthy! Not worthy at all! She was dimly aware that Silar was peering down at her, shaking his head in disappointment. It was not like she could help it!
“You have come for something. What is it?”
She partially raised her forehead from the dirt. “I need to know where the wolf will be reborn.”
“Ah, a very special trick, that.
How to predict the exact time and location of a vanha-sielu birth? Can you see that yet, Lord Forllan?”
Silar spat a “No,” and then threatened with, “If you do not give her the information she requires, I shall ensure that all of your prison keepers are madmen. How would you like to live the next hundred years in a sea of unpredictability?” there was something odd about the general’s voice. It sounded... uncontrolled.
The Daisain went quiet for a moment, but finally said, “You ought not to pander to her selfishness, Forllan. I know why you do it, but one
day you will mature enough to view the greater implications. The happiness of a very small group of people is nothing against the lives of millions.”
Silar shifted his feet, but remained silent.
“And what of the dishonour you brought upon yourself at Cadra? All those Hirrahan lives... that is not the work of a guardian, Fireblade!”
Artemi cowered. No, no, no. It had been so wrong! And all for her husband, all for her love and his people.
“You’ll find the wolf pup in Casfin, at the base of the mountain
called Hefra. Do not rely upon it bringing father and son together, though.”
Artemi looked up at her general to ask if he thought the other man was telling the truth, and he nodded.
“Get up, Temi,” he instructed. “This wretch murdered your sister!”
She tried, but she knew that she could not without The Daisain’s permission. Wilful and unruly elsewhere, perhaps, but never before her master. She had once spent a week on her knees because he had forgotten to tell her she was free to stand. At least, she had thought it was a simple
case of absent-mindedness on his part.
Silar was left to man-handle her back into a more upright position, though she felt terribly guilty about it, and he carried her back to the tunnel’s exit. The soldiers ran in after them to re-secure her master’s prison.
“To have that man’s power.” The general shook his head. “He will have his madmen guards anyway, don’t you worry. It will be just revenge for Talia.”
Artemi dusted herself off, and immediately felt her anger return. Though they had never been as close as she and Mirel once had, she did miss her sister. The Daisain had taken both from her. “Don’t turn into him,” she instructed, and marched back toward the light. Thank Achellon her friend had been born with a good helping of loyalty and generosity! They would all be doomed if he had the same black and white view that Morghiad seemed so keen upon. And thank The Blazes neither of them was in his thrall as she was!
The outer walls of the city looked as if they could barely repel a loose twig that might happen to fall upon them, but their appearance was enormously misleading. After being locked for a fortnight behind bars constructed of the same fabric, Morghiad had become aware of the true strength of the stuff. And he was aware that the former queen and her
daughter could manage the mysterious power that made it. He was really very surprised that they did not harbour greater desires to kill him, or at least maim him in some horrific manner. Whatever their illogical thoughts, they had the power and reason to make his life very difficult indeed. He had resolved to remain stoical in the face of his punishments, but he was already dreading this meeting with Lady D’Avrohan. The way she had stormed from his prison cell two weeks before had told him that her anger might not be as fleeting as her actions demonstrated, and that meant she had
the potential to explode when he least expected it.
He gazed at the huddle of soldiers around him. Korali di Certa and several others from the ranger squad were there, as were Romarr and The Hunter. The Dedicated eyed him with justified suspicion now, which was a shame. He would have much preferred acceptance as one of them. After all, it was highly probable that they too had been sent to assassinate innocents during their period of training. Instead, his first assassination had been a wolf. Dog Slayer, they seemed intent upon calling him.
When he next glanced at the gate, he saw the former queen emerge astride a fine bay mare. She led another horse at her side, and it was a huge, great muscular thing with glossy black fur and a mane that very nearly touched the ground. A warhorse.
“Alright, let’s give them their moment,” The Hunter said with the slightest of sneers, and Morghiad’s guard withdrew to a respectable distance upon their mounts.
His mistress drew closer with unbearable leisureliness, and for the first time he noticed that everything in her bearing - each identifiable area of
her looks - all of it was exquisite. Her flame hair had been cut short, but it still burned with the intensity of the sun that shone upon it. And her face... those features had surely been carved by an artist who had spent a millennium studying the truth of beauty. And the eyes: dark eyes with a world of knowledge. Why had he never noticed any of this before? Something odd was happening to him. “Morghiad.” She smiled, and the movement of her lips made him swallow. “I have two gifts for you. It is my intention that I provide you with whatever tools I can to ensure that you
remain alive. The first is a gift from my eldest son. I did not ask him to give you this...” She gestured to the horse. “... but he is ever conscious of pleasing me, and I know that your odds will be better with Tyshar than without.”
He was not entirely sure why she wished him to stay alive after everything that had happened: to make him viable for more punishment, perhaps?
“Tyshar is a blood horse, but he has a temper. If you can manage your own anger, you will do well with him.” She handed him the reins and instructed him to mount the new
animal.
As Morghiad clambered down from his skinny gelding, he met eyes with this vast creature. They seemed to be very nearly red beneath the mess of mane, and its breath sounded akin to a roar. It did not look like any beast he had ever ridden. He touched its nose with a tentative hand, which the animal tolerated, and then drew the motion into a stroke. Tyshar did not seem too displeased at the action.
“Stop messing about and get on him! I don’t have all day to bid you farewell!” She was visibly upset for some reason.
He immediately did as he was told, and clambered onto the great warhorse. Blazes, but he could see for miles from this new height!
“Good. Now for your second gift. You may keep the sword given to you by the army, but you must also take this one.” She began unravelling a baize wrap, and shortly revealed a lengthy, slightly curved scabbard. “If you want to fight like a Kusuru, then you need a proper blade to do it with. This is a gale sword, but it is a single one, weighted especially for you. It is the only one to have been made in the last four millennia, and its like has
never been seen before. You have my daughter to thank for this.”
Morghiad’s eyes were close to popping from his head. “Why...?” He had fully expected to have his limbs removed with a sword, not be given such a thing as a gift.
“Shut up and stop asking questions, idiot! Be grateful.”
He took the scabbard and pulled the hilt away from it. A white blade emerged from within. It was made of the same stuff as the city. “Thank you, my lady.” he said softly.
She nodded with approval, but then frowned. “No more ‘my lady.’ It
is time I became Artemi to you. And there is another aspect to that sword. If you unsheathe it slowly enough, it will sing, and I will hear it – but only I. If you ever need my help, that blade will call me.”
He bit at his lip. Her advances had been one thing,
but this was surely unwarranted!
“Listen, fool. You will go on to Casfin as soon as your ship lands in Tedarah, and then you will search for a mountain called Hefra. The wolf is there. Send him back here with someone capable, for what good it will do.” She looked at the floor with visible irritation. “For all that my eldest children seem to approve of you, my youngest left the city last night in anger. All I have from him is a note implying that he might write occasionally. In any case, I’ll keep the wolf here for when he returns. But that leads me onto my last offer to you, Morghiad. I am aware that you have a woman waiting for you, and I do not imagine that such unexpected gifts from my children will have any bearing upon your affections, but I would like to say to you that...” She hesitated and pulled her soft lips to one side. “I’ll say now that... that you may find me waiting for you if, in three years, you should ever desire... well, I’m sure you can imagine. Oh, and stay out of Hirrah.” With that she booted her horse into a contained canter and swept back into the city.
Morghiad stared at the sword he now held. Was this entirely rational behaviour from a woman whom he had so recently terrorised? He was sure it was not. But during the conversation he had come to the conclusion that she was very, very beautiful. Perhaps she would burn him into an eisiel in her bed, but that prospect was looking rather less terrible the more he considered it. Maybe he was losing all
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 144