City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array)

by H. O. Charles

  Morghiad gave his usual expressionless reaction and walked to the window. Next to him lay his folded-up cloak, the green symbol of Cadra emblazoned on the top. It had been a nightmarish thing to clean, requiring special clay earth for the fur. She would miss wrapping herself in its embrace each night, she lamented, as much as she appreciated her own blanket. When the firewood had first turned up in the cellars, everyone had thought it a cruel joke. She had been forced to convince the cavern inhabitants present that the fuel was indeed for them, and that the chimneys could be used safely. Some had refused point-blank to burn it, instead stashing it beneath blankets or piling it high in cold fireplaces. At least, they did so until more turned up the next day. Artemi smiled to herself at her recent good fortune, and wondered just how the kahr had managed to afford such an outlay. He had requested that his involvement remain secret and she was happy to oblige him in that respect.

  The week had been tiring for them both in spite of their gaming; it had also included much sword training and a great deal of wielding. She now knew all of the twenty-three sword forms, but failed to see the use of some. She now knew how light could be formed from the air and how fire could be made without fuel. The kahr frequently accused her of trying to steal control from him, though truly she had not intended to. She had only wanted to see how it was he held her power, where he connected to it. There must be a way of observing it more passively.

  A knock came at the door. Morghiad spun and waved Artemi, now standing, to the bed. She moved swiftly but quietly to assume her occupation as chambermaid and Morghiad called his visitor in. She kept her head down and proceeded to pull out the bed sheets, even though they were clean.

  From her limited view she could see that a thin man had entered the room. His boots were travel-worn, but his trousers and sword signified he was a member of the guard.

  “Lord-Captain,” came his gritty voice.

  “Master Farpike. You have news of your mission?” Morghiad said.

  Farpike? Artemi did her best not to break her flow or become tense, but fear found its way into her body and began spiralling up through her legs. She clenched her jaw against it.

  The gritty voice spoke again: “Corvid and Muscica are dead.”

  “How?” The kahr did not sound upset by the news.

  “A large group of bandits attacked us. We three were lucky to leave with our lives. Passerid lost an arm in the brawl. I reckon he’ll be out of action for a month at least.”

  Morghiad turned to the window again, silent.

  Jarynd continued, “We didn’t find any sign of a rogue wielder. The bandits won’t trouble anyone again, though. I’m exhausted, mind if I take a seat?” He plonked himself in the armchair without waiting for a response.

  Artemi took a brief opportunity to look up and noted Jarynd’s snarled face. Light brown, straggled hair framed a very curious expression as he gripped the arms of the chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Morghiad turn his head slightly, and immediately returned her gaze to the sheets she was removing.

  A second of silence passed whereupon, like a thunderbolt, Jarynd leapt from the armchair. Morghiad wheeled around, hand on sword hilt, and was met by the fearful sneer now present on the wiry man’s face. The two remained motionless for a moment, eyes locked together. Slowly, Jarynd rotated his narrow, scarred face to Artemi. She froze, dropping the sheets from her hands. Oh blazes. He knew. And now he was going to kill her. The thin guard jumped towards her with terrifying speed. His advance was arrested, however, by Morghiad driving full into his side. Jarynd hit the edge of the bed with a grunt and the kahr lost no time in pinning him to the floor. “Get out of here,” he demanded of Artemi. Jarynd thrashed about beneath him, face contorted with anger. Artemi could not move.

  The trapped man yelled out, “She’ll kill all of us. I’ve seen her-”

  Morghiad clamped a fist over his captive’s mouth. “Listen. Go to Silar. Wait with him for me.”

  Artemi allowed herself to breathe. What if this man killed Morghiad? It would be her fault. “But...” she began.

  “LEAVE!” Morghiad’s eyes had taken on a new light.

  She fled. She ran through the vast hallway and across the polished stone floors. She pelted down shallow steps and along the vaulted corridors, feet making a terrible racket as she went. Silar’s door neared. She prayed that he would be in his chambers. At the very least he could help his captain.

  Artemi hammered on the ancient wood, her entire body shivering with panic. Something moved inside. Hurry up, and move! The door swept open and Silar’s handsome form filled her view. His black coat hung open and his light hair appeared somewhat ruffled. He immediately recognised her distress and pulled her into his room by the arm, checking the corridor for witnesses. “What is it?”

  “Morghiad needs your help. One of the other kanaala... he knows. I fear he will kill our captain.”

  Concern filled Silar’s face. “Do the other ones know about you?”

  “No. Jarynd Farpike. He just came into Morghiad’s room and... detected me. Morghiad stopped him but I don’t know how long he can-”

  “Morghiad can take care of himself,” Silar interrupted. “He wanted you here, didn’t he?”

  Artemi felt desperation well up in her. “Yes but he needs-”

  “He’s ordered me to look after you. That is what I must do. He will deal with Jarynd appropriately.”

  Artemi shook her arm free and paced around the room in frustration. Why was he leaving his friend to fight alone? She hated that she was their pet: leashed, compliant and always several steps behind! She could mew or bark all she wanted but doubted they would think her noises of any actual consequence.

  For a moment she wished she had been born a man - an ordinary, boring man with a farm. Farmers had to answer to no one except the weather, and they didn’t have sword-wielding soldiers after them. Silar was watching her closely, probably still thinking she would blast his head off because it amused her. Artemi leaned against one of the bed spears and then slid to the floor in resignation. For a moment the blond man looked about at his room, and then back to her. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and cursed quietly, before coming to sit beside her. Gently, he placed an arm around her shoulders and leaned back against the bed in silence. There was nothing to do but wait.

  The heavy wooden door closed slowly by itself, whining a little from its rusted hinges. Morghiad lifted his hand from Jarynd’s mouth. The man instantly issued forth a barrage of curses and threats before tempering his anger and uttering something slightly more lucid, “You have no idea what you’ve let loose! You are a stupid child with too many responsibilities. Kill her before it’s too late.”

  Morghiad resisted the urge to hit Jarynd squarely in the face. “If we kill her she will only return in twenty-three years to seek her revenge. And then we shall all be dead.”

  “I’d rather twenty more years of life than none! You cannot trust that... thing! I’ve seen that one before. I saw her take out one-hundred men with no effort at all. You think she will be our friend? You are a fool!” Jarynd continued to writhe.

  “Were these Calidellian men?”

  Jarynd’s mouth curled awkwardly. “No. Hirrahan mercenaries. It doesn’t matter. Her kind kill indiscriminately.”

  Morghiad could not help but feel some relief. “In this life she has killed no one. She is still an innocent woman, unaware of her past. The Artemi you saw is the hero of legend; she may have had a good reason for doing what she did. Think also, of the advantages we have with her as our ally.”

  Jarynd thought for a moment. Perhaps he had not recognised her identity before. He spat, “We cannot control her. True, I would rather have her on my side than against, but she cannot be trusted!”

  “She has promised to protect the people of Calidell, Farpike.”

  The wiry man’s pale eyes widened. “You got her to swear it? All of Calidell’s people?”

  “Yes. She will keep her word.” Morghiad relaxed h
is hold on Jarynd.

  The scarred man immediately sat up. “I don’t like it.”

  “It is not ideal, I agree. But I can tell you that she is honourable. She does not have the heart of a mindless killer.”

  “But don’t you see the problem this creates? If we allow her to live, then how can we justify getting rid of the others?” Jarynd said.

  “We can’t.”

  “You propose to stop all investigations? Just let them run free? This is utter madness. Your father will find out and then have us executed, too.”

  Morghiad pulled at the top of his boot. “I cannot see another one executed. I can no longer be a part of it. Can you not see how wrong it is, Jarynd? Muscica’s own mother and sister were wielders. No other country pursues this agenda. Killing many hundreds of children is surely worse than one-hundred armed mercenaries. As for my father, I will deal with him when the time comes. He will not dare to argue with the man who controls his army.” That was a bold statement for Morghiad, but Jarynd needed to know how committed he was.

  A gust of wind rattled the windows. Jarynd shook his head but hesitated before speaking further: “You’re the most able of us. She is your responsibility. Perhaps keeping her close will be for the better. I will keep her secret, then. But if she steps out of line, Morghiad, I swear I’ll see her dead. And, the other kanaala must be told, what few of us remain. You’re lucky Corvid met his demise when he did.” Jarynd eyed Morghiad closely. “Or perhaps it wasn’t luck?”

  The kahr gave no response.

  “Passerid will not be an easy convert, I warn you. Better for Muscica to have survived.”

  “I do not celebrate in the deaths of my men. And Beodrin?”

  “He is grown soft with the arrival of his daughter. He won’t trouble you. You know, his daughter hasn’t been tested...” Jarynd rubbed his chin.

  Morghiad nodded. Beodrin’s sympathies would be very useful indeed.

  The narrow man stood and brushed himself off. “Ever since you were a lad you’ve had a fast arm on you. Blazes burn me if you can’t out-manoeuvre a lightning bolt. Though I’d sorely like to see you challenge that young woman.” A twisted grin spread across Jarynd’s lop-sided face.

  “She has no idea how to fight at the moment. I’m training her; she’ll learn fast.”

  “Training her, too? I don’t doubt she’s fast. Vanha-sielu, then. Met one once. Eyes as deep and as ancient as the oceans. Great body though.” He chuckled, but his smile faded into a frown. “Here. You haven’t... fallen for her, have you?”

  The kahr folded his arms. “She is pretty enough but I’d sooner tell my father of our... law-breaking than take her to my bed.”

  Jarynd smiled thinly and re-arranged his sword belt. “Will you take me to assess her?”

  “It’s the least I can do for your help, Jarynd.” Morghiad went to his cloak, newly reclaimed from Artemi. It still held some of her scent, together with a not insignificant buzz of latent Blaze Energy. He clasped it at his shoulders and made to depart with the other kanaala.

  Silar was wise in answering the door with caution. Upon seeing Morghiad and a subdued Jarynd, he brought Artemi from behind the door. The four of them convened in Silar’s rooms, looking as suspicious as Morghiad felt. Artemi would not look directly at Jarynd, and instead chose to switch between the kahr and Silar. He could not help but feel as if he were being compared. Silar had always been better-looking than he, and it was bad enough having to stand next to him most of the time. No, he thought, a hero such as Artemi would not trifle with such idle musings. Silar watched Jarynd closely, as evidently the kanaala’s calm entrance had not been enough to elicit his trust. He had taken to his role of protecting Artemi very quickly; it was possible he still felt something for her, which would serve well. Morghiad knew well that he was using his friend’s emotions for his own purposes.

  Jarynd moved toward the auburn-haired woman and looked her over. Well, less looked than leered. She frowned back at him.

  “Give me your hand, woman,” the wiry man said.

  Artemi looked to Morghiad for authorisation, and he nodded. He would have Jarynd’s head if he tried anything dangerous. She held out a delicate hand, causing Silar to step back in apprehension. The older kanaala took it in his bony grip. His reaction was sudden. “Blazes alight! What level is she? I can’t even see the end of it!”

  Artemi sniffed. “I am present in the room with you, complete with ears that hear sound.”

  Silar grinned inanely. Fool man. Jarynd’s reaction was not so warm. “You ought to show some respect to the men who’ve allowed you to live, girl. Not forgetting every one of us here is your superior.”

  Morghiad cringed internally, but did not comment on the reprimand. Instead he said, “Grade eleven, almost twelve.”

  Jarynd nodded to himself. “Nearly your level, then.”

  He didn’t need to know she would be graded thirteen before a year had passed. If a thirteen existed. Best to let everyone think he could manage her.

  Artemi jumped and breathed. “Bloody Achellon! You could at least be a little more gentle!”

  Silar’s face darkened with concern. He could not see the dancing points of light that now surrounded the pair. Jarynd was holding as much as his ability would permit, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. After a short while, Morghiad lost patience and pulled their hands apart. “That is enough.”

  Jarynd’s shoulders slumped visibly as the light drained from his eyes, though he folded his arms to disguise his loss. “At least she’s not able to wield herself yet. That’ll give her time to learn her place.”

  Artemi looked ready to chew through his leg.

  “Did you detect anything else while you held The Blazes?” Morghiad asked.

  The older man’s brow creased. “No, should I have?”

  “I’m not sure. I may have imagined it.”

  The four remained in silence for a while longer. Jarynd broke it by offering his leave-takings. He had seen enough, though Morghiad suspected he would want to taste her again in the future. Once the older kanaala had left, the kahr invited Artemi to depart with him. He nodded to Silar and they walked from the room together, Artemi falling back to her usual distance. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Passerid was an imminent battle, but Artemi was safe for the time being. All of them would want to touch her, to feel that much Blaze coursing through them after decades of starvation. Watching Jarynd exploit a woman of her merit with so little respect had been difficult enough, and the kahr did not relish the prospect of seeing it again.

  The hallways were quiet, however, and they soon returned to his chambers without incident. When the door shut, Artemi rushed to him. “Are you hurt?” She began checking along his side for injuries or, rather, cuts to his clothing.

  He caught her to cease her fussing. “There were no swords drawn, Artemi.”

  He could smell Silar on her dress. Couldn’t the man keep his hands off anything female? “That is good. I didn’t like the way he felt when he was... in here.” She flicked her eyes upwards. “And you were right. I didn’t want to say it in front of him, but there is something else there. I can sense it in you but not in him.”

  Morghiad craved caution. “It is best we do not explore it until we know what it is. I fear he will want to hold your power again. And he’ll try to do it in my absence. You must be watchful.”

  The woman studied him, anxiety still in her features. “You think he’ll try to wield?”

  “No. He’ll try to use you for his own pleasure.”

  Her face lost any obvious expression.

  Morghiad went to the wardrobe and pulled out a bulky, folded item: his army blanket. “Take this. It’s not quite as warm as the cloak, but it will serve you well.”

  Her face communicated a certain amount of surprise. “Do you mean for me to keep it?”

  “Of course.”

  She gave him one of her smiles. “Thank you.”

  He could not be sur
e why she was so impressed with something as basic as a blanket. Even the most deprived citizens had blankets. Perhaps her head would explode if he gave her money. “You are dismissed, Artemi.”

  She grinned broadly, curtseyed and left, streams of red-gold hair flourishing behind her. Morghiad slumped onto his bed, fully dressed, and fell into a deep, dark sleep full of troubled dreams.

  Silar awoke with a start. He still had dreams about the night Artemi had run to him, eyes full of fear. He hoped never to see that look in her face again. It had been difficult accepting that he still cared for her, that he still desired a witch. Blast her for being the prettiest witch in history! He gritted his teeth and threw off the covers. The low winter sun filtered through the casements of his windows, leaving pools of hard yellow light on the stone floors. A hard frost had left miniature fingers of ice clinging to the outside of the glass. Silar dragged on some clothes and ran a hand through his hair.

  Sword practice was repetitive, but it was an excellent way to work through one’s frustrations. Silar trotted down to the halls with vigour, sword at his side. He hoped they would be doing some really exhausting, tough, sweat-inducing exercises. The anger was there for it, and so was his energy. The hall was already mostly full when he arrived. All of his men were there; very few took time off for nalka these days, which did make things easier. Passerid nodded to him, glad to be back in action again. Apparently there had been quite a fight between he and Morghiad over Artemi. At first learning of the red-haired woman’s presence, Passerid had tried to chop Morghiad’s limbs off, which was unwise given that the sergeant only had one hand at the time. Then he had done his best to drown Artemi in a bucket of poison, and she had only escaped thanks to the training she had been provided with. Morghiad had been forced to chase him through the castle halls, fight him, and then lock him in one of the cells until he saw reason. Passerid was still undergoing some limited punishment, which had been kept private. He seemed a well-pacified little bird these days.