City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array)

by H. O. Charles

  “Stay hidden,” he said, re-adjusting the stirrups. “Bandits tend to roam these woods. I’ll send someone for you the minute I get back to the city.” The kahr eyed the lone woman: hair tumbling over her breasts, big brown eyes looking up at him, pale skin shining in the darkness. He wheeled the horse around to face Cadra, walked forward a few paces and stopped. A sharp wind roused the dead leaves from the ground.

  He couldn’t leave her there, no matter how fast he made it back. He was going to regret this. “Get up here.”

  She stepped up to the side of the horse. “But if people see -”

  Morghiad grabbed her around the waist and hauled her up, placing her across his knees. “Can you pretend to have an injury?”

  “Would a badly broken ankle do?” The city’s poor frequently walked about with injuries their bodies were slow to heal.

  “Perfectly.”

  Artemi untied a scarf from her narrow midriff and wound it carefully around the top of one foot. It revealed a tear in her commoner’s dress. He really ought to find a way of paying her now that she was a soldier, though it would have to be kept off the books. Giving her coin would be awkward... but he could have some new dresses made for her in private. False injury bandaged, the kahr held her by the waist with one hand and neck-reined the horse with the other. They galloped back to the city at speed, her hair whipping by his jaw with its purr of Blaze echoes.

  At the perimeter gates Morghiad was pleased to find that only the guards paid any attention to his saddle-mate, and they would understand the situation in any case. He rode into the city with her at a relaxed pace and offered, as any nobleman would, to see her back to her home. Artemi asked to be taken back to her father’s house in the poor district of Cadra, and they worked their way through the orange stand-lamp-lit streets with only a few pedestrians stopping to gawp or fumble a bow. At least, by heading towards the commoner area, he would avoid meeting any lords or ladies who would undoubtedly ask difficult questions.

  The sloping streets narrowed considerably and became more thickly stacked atop one another as they approached the smaller houses. Skewed buildings were piled here like a collection of sodden card boxes that had fallen from a great height. The area was lively though: many people thronged outside the doors of their abodes, chatting noisily about the day that had gone. Warm yellow light spilled from the entrances and windows of most rooms, warming the green stone pathways. The area was clean of litter but had a worn feeling about it. Many of the bronze railings were broken or missing and much of the stonework was chipped or crumbling. There hadn’t been any collapses in the last century, but it was only a matter of time before this lot gave way.

  He drew Tyshar to a halt outside one aged-looking property. It was singular from the others in the plant life that had been cultivated around it. Purple sprays of tiny flowers poked out of the single window, a holly bush grew along the front and several unidentifiable shrubs hung from the walls, which were otherwise covered in ivy. Artemi slid from his lap and pretended to land awkwardly on one foot. The cold air rushed in to fill the space where she had sat.

  Giving her a courteous nod, the kahr turned his mount to the castle and tried not to notice as an auburn-haired man stepped out from the house. Instead, he booted Tyshar into a canter and headed toward the blackened, basalt heart of the city.

  “Are you alright? What happened? And what are you doing hanging around with the Kahr-of-bloody-Calidell, young lady?” Her father put an arm around her and helped her into the warmth of his house. Artemi was faced with a difficult choice. Either she could lie completely to the only family she had, or she could tell the truth and risk him finding out that she was this terrible thing: a wielder. And that she’d killed her mother. She looked at his worried blue eyes as he sat her in the familiar wooden chair and fussed over her. “My ankle is fine. It was a ruse so that I could get back to the city in safety.” Artemi could not bring herself to lie; it would be too much for her to bear.

  Her father straightened, suspicion filling his eyes. “You were outside the city, with him?”

  “Yes. He was teaching me to ride, father.”

  His face turned pink as anger took over his voice. “I bet he was! Has he touched you? Because if he has I’ll...” His mouth worked.

  She stood and held his shoulders, hoping to calm him down. “No. It’s not like that. He wouldn’t do that.”

  Her father shook his head. “Oh, Artemi. Fool girl. Don’t you realise he’s a man? That’s all they ever want. And he’s a bloody noble as well, royalty are even worse; what else could he want from a pretty girl like you, with no money or expectations to speak of? You’re not to take any more ‘riding lessons’ with him again, do you hear me?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “What has this man gotten you into, girl? Should’ve known he’d turn out as bad as the king,” he spat.

  Artemi tried not to clench her fists at his unwillingness to believe her. “Just - be quiet while I explain it. Morghiad doesn’t have any interest in women. I’m sure of it.”

  Her father folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent.

  She went on, “I’ve joined the army. I can use a sword moderately well, but I can’t ride a horse, and for obvious reasons it’s not something I can learn in public with him... and he can’t trust anyone outside the army to teach me... and he’d be discovered if he paid for lessons for some commoner. A woman isn’t supposed to fight. The king wouldn’t allow it but the whole army have promised to keep it a secret, for me.”

  Her father’s mouth had dropped. “Damn right a woman isn’t supposed to fight! And even if you were a lad I’d not have allowed it! Why has he got you fighting, is he really that desperate for sword hands? Blazes, Artemi! I didn’t name you that to live up to the bloody stories! And think about it, why didn’t he get one of your sworn-to-secrecy soldiers to teach you to ride, instead of personally escorting you to who-knows-where?”

  “Because he is trying to protect his honour and my own. I cannot be seen departing the city with a different man each day, whilst simultaneously visiting his rooms.”

  He frowned. “You visit his rooms, too? I should never have let you go to work in that castle, never.” Her father slumped into the only other chair.

  Artemi took his big hands and squeezed them tightly. “I am being looked after. I have Kahr Morghiad’s own protection.”

  “And yet you’ll march to war and get yourself killed for him, and the blasted king,” he sighed. “And visiting him. You are far too young to go through nalka yet.”

  “For the last time, father, I am not sleeping with him!”

  He gritted his teeth, but seemed to accept she was speaking the truth. “Temi, there’s something I’ve never told you. I... didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. I always thought it would be better if you grew up the daughter of a boring old blacksmith’s hand. But it seems we’ve both fallen into the same stupid trap.” He looked pained. “I used to be in that army - used to wear the black and green and march for my country. I saw so many of my friends lose their lives for nothing, for battles over pieces of land that no one but petty kings could care for. It was utterly futile.” He took a deep breath. “I went to siege Gialdin all those years ago. But it was wrong. It was the most horrific thing I have ever witnessed. We killed innocent citizens to get to the city; men and women who’d picked up farming tools to defend themselves. And then we started destroying it. Gialdin was surely the most beautiful place ever built. I wish you could have seen it before... And I was one of those who helped turn the brilliant white walls to rubble. Temi, I wept for it. It was terrible. I deserted that day; I couldn’t stay there and be part of that. So I came home with your mother instead.” He smiled. “And then we made you.”

  Artemi was less surprised than she ought to have been. He was built like a soldier, and had often talked of faraway places that only a merchant or gypsy could have known of. Her father had nothing to worry about
, of course. Morghiad would not let her near a battle until she could incinerate her enemies with a single thought. But she wanted to keep the wielding from her father a while longer. “I thought desertion carried a penalty of imprisonment.”

  “It does. I was thrown into the cells as soon as the rest returned, what few of them survived. But your mother had fallen pregnant and the sergeant showed some leniency. And when she died... well, they decided to punish me instead by making me a runner for the farrier.”

  She nodded slowly. “You mustn’t worry for me, father. I do not think the captain would allow such a battle to occur under his administration.”

  Her father grunted. “Unfortunately the king makes those decisions.”

  Artemi stayed silent. She had already stretched one of the oaths in telling him of her involvement with the army, but that was her secret – not just the army’s. “I will be alright. Please trust me, and trust him.”

  Her father sighed and hugged her tightly. “When did you grow up? Though you’re not exactly big, are you? Not my little girl any more. You’ll understand when you have kids.”

  Artemi winced.

  Her father stood back and pushed the chairs to the wall, before removing a plank from the floor. The ex-soldier pulled out a long, thin, dusty object, his expression bearing resignation. A well-polished sword emerged from the gritty wrappings. He threw it to her. “Now,” he said, taking up the fire poker. “Show me what that bastard kahr has taught you.”

  Chapter 9

  Brave fingers of green pushed through a spray of snow, hailing the first hints of a verdant spring. A fresh, damp wind brushed at the crumpled yellow soil of the Great North Road while nine-tenths of the Cadran army poured down it. Many of the men had horses, also garbed in the black and green of Calidell. At the back of the column rolled a collection of covered wagons, their brass fixings shining brightly in the brief sun, and with them rode the many wives and children of the soldiers. Silar rubbed the neck of his blue dun gelding to reassure it against the wind. The animal could get quite flighty over stupid things, and yet have no problem with swords or shouting soldiers.

  He rode at the front of his battalion which, happily for him, was at the back of the column. Every so often he would turn to catch a glimpse of the dark gold-red hair of Artemi’s braid waving about between the wagons. Dressed plainly, she was chatting away merrily to several of the drivers who, like the men of her company, seemed to have grown rather fond of her in a short time. The soldiers treated her as a beloved sister, but that was the effect an unconditionally warm and handsome young woman would have, even if she was a wielder. Even blazed Passerid spoke well of her these days!

  He was somewhat annoyed that his affection for her had not dissipated, and still more annoyed that he had been charged with protecting her but was prevented from being her lieutenant. Morghiad had made some odd decisions regarding her, but even he was not immune to her draw. Silar had observed the captain staring at her, unblinkingly, for a full ten minutes during one practice session. Worse, he had even seen the hint of a smile touch the man’s lips while he mooned over her. And then there had been the matter of the dresses: two new cotton things had arrived for Artemi one day. Of course, she had accused Lord Forllan of being overly generous, but the accusation was incorrect. Morghiad was the only other one with access to her measurements.

  The lieutenant relaxed the frown that was fast growing on his face. If anyone was going to take Artemi, he would rather it was the kahr. It was probably inevitable, the two of them being kanaala and wielder together. Just typical. She was the one woman he seriously cared for and bloody Morghiad would likely sweep in there and make her his own. He clenched his teeth together and steadied the horse, which was clearly sensing his emotions.

  At least his captain had been wise enough to keep her as a runner in the coming battle. She was more than good enough to fight now, and had outperformed the recruits who had joined with her, but there was no point in putting her in harm’s way before she had peaked. The woman was still very young and very inexperienced. Even the best fighters needed to watch a proper war happen before they took part in one.

  His mind turned to the battle itself. No convincing had been required in getting the men to agree to fight Hirrah. There had been a long-standing disagreement with that country, and justly so. Hirrahan raiders regularly torched the borders, looting and pillaging as they wished. They frequently boycotted Calidellian traders or blockaded their own. And now they had thought it wise to place a claim on the western province of Gorena. The army was headed for Torfens, where another nine-thousand nonprofessional fighters would be waiting to further expand their ranks. Silar had not led quite so many men before, so this would be quite a learning experience for him, or so the other lieutenants had said.

  It was another six hours before they reached the open city of Torfens. It had no defensive walls or towers to speak of, and only a wide ditch protected its circumference. The hired men had gathered in a rambling camp on the outskirts, some tents waving the green and black hawk banner of Calidell above them. Silar ordered his men to set about making their own camping lines - organised ones. Badly aligned tents were a poor show, and they tended to have guy ropes that tripped everyone up. He also made sure his camp would be next to Beodrin’s. Artemi could not reveal her role in front of the wives and children, but she would be spending a great deal of time around Beodrin’s camp, picking up orders and learning of tactics. She was not guarded well enough for Silar’s liking. Yes, there was an entire army around her and she was not bad at fighting either, but if another eisiel came for her... The lieutenant bit off a chunk of bread from the supply he’d brought.

  He felt the presence of someone tall behind him, and turned. “Morghiad.” He gave a nod to the man.

  The captain grunted, but lost no time in getting to the point. “I can’t find Artemi and my time is limited. Will you locate her and bring her to the meeting later?”

  Silar nodded, concealing his enthusiasm.

  “Good. I’ll see you there.” The dark man strode off to complete his many other duties.

  Silar threw on his cloak, stuffed the rest of the bread into his mouth, and made his way to where the wives and children were settling themselves. One of the soldiers would finish setting up his tent before he returned. That was one of the nicer things about rank. When he walked through the first group of women, he immediately felt inadequate. He did like their attentions, but the coy smiles were nothing in comparison to the crowds Morghiad had drawn two days before. The captain had only been bathing in a lake, and half the females in bloody Calidell had turned out to watch the spectacle. The captain tended to keep to his tent now, which was far better-advised.

  Silar’s dark blue eyes scanned the multicoloured tents for a flash of red hair, and did not find one. A few children ran around the beginnings of a camp fire, pretending to invoke some wielder flames. Silar could not help but smile to himself. The soldiers had not been able to tell their own families about Artemi, but already their changing attitudes had affected their children. When King Acher was gone, perhaps in another few centuries, Morghiad would almost certainly invite wielders back to the country. If he lived long enough, that was. Captains of the Calidellian army could usually expect a hundred years of life if they were sensible. The kahr was not always sensible.

  A glint of fast-moving purple caught the corner of his eye. Artemi had been wearing one of her new riding dresses, coincidentally in purple. He followed it behind a large tent. She was there, hair covered in a grey shawl and looking somewhat sheepish.

  “Avoiding me again, Artemi?” he said.

  She compressed her lips and looked to the side. The woman was utterly unaware of her effervescence.

  Silar folded his arms. “Well, you’ll be happy to hear I’m not pursuing you for sport. Morghiad has asked that you attend tonight’s meeting, though what role he intends you to perform I do not know.”

  The woman appeared to relax a little. She dropp
ed the shawl, revealing the golden red hair beneath, and the evening sun brought it aflame. He longed to touch her hair when it did that, and often wondered if he would feel any heat from it. “Alright then,” was all she said. She followed him back into the melee of women, children and noise.

  They walked in silence back to Silar’s tent, where he collected some important maps and rosters. When he re-emerged from inside, she tried to say something, but faltered. He gave her an encouraging smile, but it didn’t work with the desired effect. Instead she clamped her mouth shut and looked away.

  “What is wrong with you, girl?”

  She kicked gently at the ground with one foot before returning her gaze to him. “You know we can’t be... you know,” she whispered.

  This was not something he wanted to discuss. At all. “Yes, Artemi.”

  “Then why do you keep...” She sighed before continuing, “Perhaps I am imagining it. Tell me if I am. Why do I feel as if you look at me? A lot.”

  “Because I do.And because you are beautiful. Fool woman.”

  Her eyes widened at that. And then she blushed and looked to the ground.

  Silar pulled his documents together and frowned. “There’s nothing to be done about it. Now come with me and we can see what the lord-captain has to say.”

  The pair made their way to the largest tent in the centre of the camp, with its hawk flag waving above and guards scattered about. Morghiad was pacing about outside with a reassuringly expressionless face. He looked up when they arrived, but continued his pacing in earnest.

  When Beodrin, Beetan and Luna joined the group the kahr motioned them inside. Four men in black and green already sat on cushions along one side. They were the new kanaala recruits Morghiad had found in the Calidellian countryside, brought in to replace the two who had died some months earlier. Silar was not entirely sure what their attitude was to Artemi, but the captain appeared comfortable with their proximity to her. As far as Silar could tell, all but one of the men were under forty. He seated himself next to Artemi, who was carefully arranging her skirts and not looking at anyone. Rahake, Tortrix and Baculo stamped into the tent with Jarynd and Passerid. Finally the last of the lieutenants, Hunsar and Eupith, strode in with jolly smiles. Pavon had been left to mind Cadra, though he sorely would have wished to be there with them.