Voices of Blaze (Volume 5 of The Fireblade Array)

by H. O. Charles

  “Home,” she repeated.

  “Yes – Gialdin, Calidell, the Darkworld. All the places you love. Medi is looking forward to

  seeing you again, and Kalad. He has some news for you. And your father, Sindra and Sidav, The Hunter and everyone else. Perhaps we’ll even bump into Silar on the way.”

  “Morghiad...”

  “I came looking for you. I’ve missed you so much.” His eyes were beginning to feel hot with tears.

  “Morghiad, I- I betrayed you. I’m so sorry.”

  That stopped his thoughts

  where they were. “Betrayed me how?” he asked, though he knew precisely what she meant.

  “With a – a man. I didn’t- I... It was wrong. I was wrong to do it.” Her voice wavered with the last words, as if she were crying. “I’m sorry.”

  Morghiad’s body had become numb, and his mind was rendered sluggish by its attempts to process her words. How was he supposed to feel? Angry? Jealous, perhaps? None ofthose emotions presented themselves, and not even the Shade creatures had anything to say on the matter. And even if any anger did come to him, what right did he have to feel it after what he had done? “Why did you do it?” he eventually spluttered.

  “I wanted to know what it would be like. You had known Mirel and might know others in the future, and I was jealous. I was angry at what the world had denied me and allowed for you. It seems so stupid. It was stupid.” Artemi’s words were much clearer now, which meant she was becoming more lucid.

  Curiosity and indignation. Of all the aspects of her nature to drive her to do unruly things, those had to be the two most likely to land her in trouble. Morghiad could have laughed heartily at how Artemi-like her behaviour was, if only it had not involved something that she had promised to him alone. But then,

  he had never truly possessed any part of her. He had always known that was impossible. A man could not own fire, and grasping it in his fingers would only burn them.

  “None ofthat matters now,” he said to her, “It’s time for you to come home. Do you think you can stand?”

  “I need... I need... taqqa,” she croaked.

  “What is that? Will it make you better?”

  She smiled as if in a dream.

  “Yesss.”

  “How did you get like this, Tem?”

  She gazed at him through lazy eyes and bit her lip. “I upset Rav. He thought I was his, and when I did what I did, he made sure that I was banished from the home he had provided, and he made sure my lessons ended. And he cut my supply of taqqa, but he didn’t realise how much I needed it - how much I needed the light. I tried to show him. I tried...” Her

  voice broke off in a whimper.

  “Hush,” Morghiad said in as soothing a tone as he could manage. Blazes, who was this Rav character?! Another one he would have to add to his list of men who had brought harm to Artemi? “What is this taqqa? Where do I find it for you?”

  “Oh, it is the most perfect substance on this blaze-forsaken world! When it enters your body, it gives you such strength, and the dreams... the beautiful

  dreams!”

  Morghiad felt his forehead creasing into a series of frown lines. Aside from the curiosity that had landed her in trouble, this was not the wilful Artemi who had left him at Gialdin’s gate. This place had done terrible things to her. “Where do I find it?”

  “Search the bins. There is always a box with a little left in it.”

  Search the bins. Right, well,

  ifthat was what she needed, then that was what he would do for her. It wouldn’t be the first time Lord Calyrish of Haeron had rooted through bins for her. He opened the door to peer through the crack. “It’s still night out there,” he said quietly, though perhaps that would be the best time for digging into refuse.

  “This is the day time.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s quite a nice day, today,” his wife said. “Clear skies.

  You can see the sun.”

  He stroked her hair and smiled thinly at her. She needed to return to the Darkworld as soon as she was well enough; the airs there would put her right in no time at all.

  He stole away into the darkness to search for the items he needed, and was surprised to see many more winged individuals hunched and skulking about the streets than there had been before. Some did not have

  wings, though they looked as if they might soon grow into them, while others had great flaps of skin that dragged on the floor behind them. Morghiad glanced back at his own, and saw that they were large enough to drag on the floor by quite some distance.

  He did his best to tuck them up so that they did not become dusty, and resumed his search for the substance Artemi so needed. Along the way, he saw more of

  their kind slumped against walls and passed out on the street. If anything, they looked like drunkards outside a tavern. Was this any different? Perhaps Artemi was nothing more than very drunk indeed.

  In any case, Morghiad soon found a hardwood casing that contained a few drips of sweetsmelling liquid inside of it, and he returned with it to his wife. Along his journey, he also found several small, square and metal objects

  that he presumed were coins, a bucket that he was able to fill with water, and a sponge that did not appear to be too filthy.

  Once back at his wife’s side, he prepared to administer the potion to Artemi, but hesitated.

  “What troubles you?”

  “Did this taqqa make you so ill?” he asked. “Perhaps it is not the cure.”

  “No, I need it-”

  Morghiad withdrew the needle and shoved it back into

  the box with all the other apparatus. “We wait another day.”

  “I need to get back, I need to get back, I need to get back...” she murmured.

  “I fear more time has passed for you here than it has in the Darkworld. Another day here will be minutes in our home. We can wait.”

  But Artemi let a soft moan escape from her throat as she reached toward the box. “No

  please?”

  Morghiad shook his head and began wringing the sponge in the bucket of water he had brought. “It is possible to take too much of this stuff, yes?” he asked as he began washing her skin clean of dirt. Even the area between the mottled patches and underneath the few rags she wore she was filthy.

  “That is what they say,” Artemi whispered. “Tallyn spoke to me in one ofthe dreams – a

  waking dream. It was so real.”

  He knew he did not have to ask ifthe Law-keepers had agreed to revive their dead son. The answer was evident in Artemi’s tone of voice.

  “Did you get your peace, my heart?” she asked.

  “I did.” The details of it could wait. She was in no condition to properly rip off his head, which he had been rather lookingforward to.

  “Then you have completed

  your mission, while I have failed mine. I am sorry, Morghiad.”

  “It is not a competition,” he hissed, and it was the Lawkeepers’ fault besides. What they had done to her was unforgivable.

  When Artemi was washed and clean, he curled up beside her for several hours and held her while she made demands for taqqa. Her protestations became louder and increasingly frequent the more lucid she became, but

  Morghiad remained steadfast. It was not unlike nalka, he thought to himself, but the bond was formed with a cruel thing rather than a person.

  By the next day, she was lucid but shivering, and could sit up and stand without aid. Morghiad managed to find some less ragged clothing for her from a discarded pile outside of the nearby inn, and after some moments of fidgeting, he decided now would be the proper time to

  tell her what had gone on in Hirrah.

  “There’s something you need to know,” he began, “A bargain I had to make to get the peace.”

  Artemi’s dark eyes fixed upon him, and she said nothing. She knew. It was obvious she knew.

  “Queen Dorinna-”

  “Her!” Artemi spat.


  “Yes, she... demanded that I lie with her or she would not sign the treaty. When I threatened to kidnap one of her sons to make her do it, she said that she would tell the world I had only done so to force her to come to bed with me. It would have been my word against hers, and not many trusted my word in that place.”

  “And you did it? You gave yourself to her?”

  Morghiad nodded.

  For a while Artemi seemed lost in thought, and it was hard to tell through her strange new

  features, but she looked to be... sick.

  “I thought of you.”

  “Shut up,” was Artemi’s response. Her voice was hard as iron, and she seemed utterly lucid now, as if taqqa were some old fad that had been forgotten decades ago. “Why didn’t you just kill her?”

  “Kill her? She was needed to make her husband sign the treaty, and ifI had been caught...”

  “You should have slit her

  throat and chucked her out ofthe window! Her blazed sons could have signed it. She has plenty of them to do it, and they ought to have enough brain matter between them to work out how to hold a quill! Follocking blazes, Morghiad, are you an idiot?! Is this how it is with us? Months apart, and we both lie with other people?”

  “It was not what I wanted, Artemi. I love you. That has never changed.” He placed his long

  fingered hands at her waist and pulled her close so that he could stroke her hair. Even here it fizzed gently against his skin. “I never felt anything for her. It was a transaction, and I felt dirty afterward for it.”

  Her lips thinned, she pushed his hand away and spoke through her teeth. “We return now, and we find her. Then, I am going to tear out her innards, organ by organ, and make her watch it happen. I will strangle

  her with her own guts! Mirel taught me one or two things, my husband, and nowI have good reason to use them-”

  “You can’t.”

  This time she gave him a shove into the wall behind, causing several small pieces of rock to crack and break off. “Protecting her, are we?” Artemi asked with a hiss.

  “No. Mirel... Mirel escaped, and she killed Dorinna.” Morghiad fully expected his

  monsters to rouse into a chorus about Mirel’s tortures, but they did not. They had been completely and utterly silent in this place, which was unprecedented. Morghiad could not remember the last time his mind had been quiet for so long, and it almost felt lonely.

  “Mirel is...” Artemi swallowed. “I am in no condition to fight her. Our children-”

  “They are fine. For now. But we need you back. I need you.”

  “She has taken my vengeance away from me.” Artemi slumped onto the grain sacks, her hands and wings lax on the floor beneath. “I always used to think those in love were fools for punishing the other recipient of their spouse’s affections – the mistresses and cicisbei and the paramours – that they should punish the one who had strayed. But this is different – Dorinna – whore! If only there were a way to bring her back so that I could

  kill her again! Fires, did Mirel make it painful for her? Tell me it was painful.”

  Morghiad could still see her head mounted upon the end of the roasting spit, its ravenwood hair falling limply around its morose features. “Dorinna wanted to beloved, but she could not have it – not even from me. She was unhappy at the end, and Mirel... tore her head off.”

  “Good. How was it torn off? All in one motion? Or with

  slicing?”

  “Artemi!”

  His wife’s features had regained their animation and colour, and her eyes now sparkled. “Tell me.”

  “Mirel cut her neck partway, and tore the rest.”

  “Beautiful, beautiful,” Artemi said, rubbing her hands together. She looked to be... was she salivating?

  “My heart, we need to return now. Mirel may be

  quenched, but she is still dangerous.”

  Artemi nodded and grinned. “Agreed.” She was still licking her lips and rubbing her hands as if she had just eaten the most delightful meal imaginable, and the sight of it made Morghiad’s insides knot up. Artemi had always enjoyed the dance of blades, but she had never been hungry for blood. Was it life in the Nightworld that had made her this way, or was it simply

  His had been a selfless act, but hers had been utterly motivated by selfish curiosity. What thought had she given for his feelings? None. Artemi knew

  she was no longer worthy of being called wife, but the rapidity with which Morghiad had accepted and forgiven her misdeed troubled her. It was not right, and nor was her growing anger at him. Artemi had insisted that they find food before they travelled back to The Crux. Her husband not only looked hungry from all the riding and journeying he had done, he was having trouble walking without stumbling on every other step.

  Part of her wished to push him over and watch him fall into a suitably muddy puddle for what he had done. Perhaps a puddle full of spikes. The other part worried about him deeply.

  She regarded him as they sat down to a table in a hidden corner ofthe tavern. He had not translated badly at all in this world; his hair was still woven in black braids, his expensive black clothing had changed to fit his new body snugly, and his wings

  were large and exquisitely shaded. Even his eyes had retained their lucid green colour. Artemi knew now what Rav had been telling her about when he said she had looked pure and clean but weak. Morghiad was well built for this place, but he would not have stood a chance in a fight against either Rav or Learkin. Blazes, where was Rav now? Artemi could not recall the last time she had seen him.

  “So you forgive me? For

  what I’ve done?” she whispered as a meal was set before her. She decided it would be best not to tell Morghiad what the meat was. He would never have understood.

  “Yes.”

  “Just like that? Nothing else? No anger? No irritation? Ask me to beg ... or hit me or do something-”

  “Hit you?”

  “You’ve let me off too easily.” Artemi glanced back at the maid who had served them.

  The only reason they had been able to get this meal for nothing had been because Artemi had just bested the woman in a fight. Morghiad did not seem to understand the logic ofthat either, and had tried to intervene. What curious people Darkworlders really were.

  “All I want Artemi, is you. To know that you love me and to have you back–to have you back at my side. That is all I have ever wanted. You do still love me?”

  Artemi found herself lost for words, if only for a moment. “To the very depths of my soul, yes. But this –this is ridiculous! I am furious about your... engagement. And yet you are not furious with me, when I was under far less pressure to do what I did than you were.”

  He pushed his food about on its plate before he said, “But I understand why you did it. It makes sense to me. You had your curiosity, you explored it, and I

  am not angry.”

  “Burn you and your rationality!”

  Morghiad released his cutlery and took hold of one of her hands in his. “This thing that has happened will not happen ever again. I can see you don’t want it to, and I fear I have made too grave a sacrifice for the sake of a blazed peace treaty. As far as I am concerned, I will let the world burn before I see this look in your eyes again. I trust you

  implicitly. Trust me.”

  “So that is it?”

  “What is?”

  Artemi pulled her hands away. “You feel secure because I cannot betray you. Not physically. Not without killing someone. How reassuring that must feel for you.”

  “Artemi, that is not fair.”

  “Bloody right it’s not!” She stabbed at her food and stuffed a large piece of it into her mouth.

  Only the fact that it was so large

  prevented her from cursing at him further.

  There was anger in his green eyes while he looked at her chewing, though it rapidly dissipated with his own words. “I feel secure with you because I have felt you ogle more men than I c
are to count, but never feel for any ofthem as you feel for me.”

  Artemi swallowed the food, though it did not go down easily. “I do not ogle.” Blazes, she did not, did she?

  “You are a passionate woman with passionate thoughts. That’s one of the many things I love about you. It’s in your nature. I’ve accepted it, and it means nothing so long as you love me.”

  What he was saying was beyond stupid. “You think I have a roving eye?”

  “No... you just... have an eye for attractive men.”

  Artemi tried to think if she had ever seen or felt Morghiad do the same around other women. It would have been incredibly arrogant for her to assume that she was the only woman he found enticing, but then, she could not recall a time when he had felt true lust around another woman. Sunidaran queens excepted, of course. She had detected some warm feelings from him when he had spoken with Selieni, but even those had been placid and unremarkable. Perhaps it was that Morghiad

  sourced his excitement from aspects of her that did not match the things she sought in him. Now that she thought on it, wasn’t that a little peculiar - for a man not to feel the most basic form of lust for other women?