“Matching bones back together and then knitting the ends is no easy set of forms,” he continued, “IfArtemi had been concentrating hard on that, who knows how many free sparks could have escaped from her wielding?” Medea chewed her lip in thought. It was possible that her mother had accidentally wielded Crux power during the healing, and if her grandmother had only just fallen pregnant, then that would match with the dates of
the changes in the Blazes too. It appeared to make far more sense than her former hypothesis: that his abilities had been nothing more than an accident of stars aligning and powers surging. No, her mother’s Crux power had mixed inside her father as he grew, and perhaps that meant he could use it in a manner that destroyed Blaze.
If the fires were the air, then the structures he might govern would be the walls of the
room around it. And worse, he did not yet know how to control any of it. When she had been born, she had been able to wield as a baby, and this was really no different. Much of this was speculation, of course, but safety measures would have to be put in place.
“My father is dangerous. We need to stop him from poking any more holes in the world before he learns how to manage what he has. And we need to find
Silar to help us.”
“How do we do either of those things?” The Hunter asked. “Silar hasn’t been seen or heard from in years, and Morghiad... well, he won’t like being caged, and convincing Tem it’s a good idea...” He began shaking his head. “If you really want to make the world safe, and if he really is that dangerous, you may have to kill him while you go lookingfor Silar.”
Medea rounded on him. “I
am not killing my own father!”
Tallyn Hunter shrugged and began fiddling with one of his daggers. “He’ll understand, and it’ll give us a few years’ head start.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and spoke through her teeth. “Suggest that again.”
“You need to kill your father.”
“That’s it!” she screamed at him, causing Koviere to twitch. “You are banished. Not just from
this palace, but from this city. No, make it this country! And ifI ever hear that you have brought harm to my father, I will never forgive you!”
He blinked at her with his olive eyes. “Med-”
“I am not Med to you. Get out of my sight. Now.”
“But Mirel is-”
“Mirel nothing! I have caged her once before, while you were lying on your back and staring at the clouds, as I recall. Do you
think a little worm like you could stop her? Grade ten kanaala - too pathetic even to handle her power. You are useless to me. Leave!”
Tallyn Hunter had no response to that, and instead he turned rapidly, and exited through the double doors.
Koviere studied her a while, but decided it would be better not to say anything. A wise decision, Medea thought. Now, she had to concentrate on the
business in hand, which would be a much easier task to complete in the absence ofthat fool man. He only cared for her because of her mother, anyway –that much had always been painfully obvious. Of course he wanted his rival dead at any opportunity! Even if Medea and Tallyn Hunter had been a power match, a relationship between them would never have lasted long.
She turned the silver bracelet she wore about her wrist several times as she thought, and paused to look at it. Four polished claws prodded at her skin slightly, and an inestimable number of years of wear had scratched the most prominent areas of its surface. Her father had given it to her on the same day that he had released her power - the day before his last in that life – and she had barely removed it since.
It had been her grandmother’s before, and most
probably anotherJade’an woman’s before that. It had some very old fire inside it rather than forms, and Medea was sure that it ought to have a purpose of some kind. But what would a guardian of a gate need with a bracelet? She already knew how to open the gate to Achellon, and these claws were far too blunt and soft to cut the stone in the cave. No, what if...?
That was the answer.
“Come with me, Koviere.
We need to make the city safe.”
She marched down to the cave as quickly as she was able in her ridiculously constrictive dress, cursing herself all the way for thinking that such a thing could ever make The Hunter love her, and soon she stood before the rocky door. “Turn around,” she instructed Koviere, “And wait.”
“As you command,” he said sombrely.
Medea put her hand against the door, watched as it swirled
like the oceans she had swum in with The Hunter, and in an instant she was inside. Next, she removed her bracelet from her wrist, and waded into the deepest part of the water beneath the column of white light. Her dress was soaked through and probably ruined from it, but she hardly cared. Medea set the bracelet down in the water, and sloshed her way backward to see what would happen.
At first, there was nothing – no change of light or extra ripples in the water, and then... then there was a rumble. It started softly at first, but soon it made the ground beneath her feet shake. The light flickered, and the water beneath it began to steam and hiss. Ohfires...
There was a pop, and in a gnat’s breath the light was gone and the water turned to searing hot steam. Medea dove for the exit as the rumble continued, and landed on the cold rock beyond at Koviere’s feet. Dust covered both of them, but as soon as she put her hands to the ground to push herself up, the rumble ceased.
“Blazes, what was that – ah, my queen?” the giant asked as he helped her to herfeet.
Medea reached out to touch the stone door to the gate, and nothing happened. It had worked. “The gate is closed. It should delay my father’s return
while we search for Silar.” True enough, her father would probably find another way to return from The Crux, but every extra day or hour she had would be an advantage to her. Silar had to be out there; he had to know he was needed.
Artemi’s eyes snapped open with an audible click. The light flooded into her head, but the ache that was precipitated by whatever foul liquids she had taken the previous night did not shift. Artemi was hungover. And naked. And in The Crux. Did these situations look for her, or was every one of them really of her own making?
As she tried to piece together the events of the
previous evening, she noticed Morghiad was dozing naked beside her. Oh... no. No!
Artemi closed her eyes tightly, but already she could feel it. That same, familiar sensation was taking hold of her bones and informing her that her body was now loaned property. Now was not the time for this! Stupid, stupid, stupid Artemi!
She dropped back onto the soft ground below and closed her eyes again. Perhaps this was a
dream. Everything: the discussions with her husband, their separation and subsequent mistakes... She waited for the unreality to break and for her suspicions to disperse, but neither went. Instead, she was met by the sensation of someone hovering over her. Her eyes clicked open once more, and she found that Morghiad was the one doing the hovering.
He frowned briefly. “Are you...?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t intend for this to happen,” she half hissed.
“Well, nor did I.”
Burn it! She was supposed to be returning home to save existing lives, not make new ones! How was a warrior to battle fierce foes and conquer enemies with children at her breast? And she had so wanted Morghiad to be clean of his monsters before they were handed on to yet
another child!
“It will be alright, Artemi.”
“Alright? No more, I said! No more! This is not what I am supposed to do! Fires alight! After everything!” Fool woman! She began searching the area for her clothes, but of course they had gone. Such was the nature of The Crux.
“You’re not supposed to do anything. I agree, the time is not perfect-”
“You and I still have too
much to put
right for this. A child will make it even harder for us.” “I know, but what else can we do?” His voice was calm, measured. Annoyingly so. Burn him for being so calm! “All of our children have been wonderful.” She frowned, hard. He had given her some very handsome babies – each of them... “You’ve been getting along with Kalad.” Morghiad nodded slowly. “He is willing to speak with me for more than a few seconds at a
time. It is some progress.” He paused. “Kal doesn’t know about Dorin-”
Dorin?! Dorin?! Why did he insist upon using her first name as if she were a friend? “He doesn’t need to.” Damn him! And burn him in the deepest depths of the fires for looking so handsome at her with his emerald eyes and impossibly well-cut jawline. Artemi took to her feet and started walking, but soon hesitated. “Wait, where are
the Law-keepers? They should have stepped in by now. They would have tried to prevent this.”
“They owed me a favour.”
“What did you do?”
He smiled and shrugged. “They are unhurt, Artemi. I promise you. But they won’t take you from me again.”
“How did you-”
“Just a bit of coherent argument. Kalad is an excellent tutor in it. All that you need to know is that we will never be
parted by any other force. Be happy, Artemi. I did something right for you.”
Of course he had. He would do that. Burn him, he had probably fallen to his stomach and begged them to show her more lenience, but was too ashamed to admit it. “In some ways you are too good for me, I think.” In some ways... And Kalad - married! What else had she missed during her time away?
“No. It was the only way.”
He embraced her gently and planted a kiss on her hair.
Artemi enjoyed the moment, but her thoughts rapidly turned to more practical matters. At present, she had no nest to put this latest addition to her brood in, and no nurses or staff on hand as there had been before. Her duty was to the world, and she had to reassume that duty as soon as possible. There could be no opportunity for her to make the same
mistakes as before.
An image flashed briefly in her mind of running after a band of brigands with her sword raised, and a squalling baby left in her husbands’ arms. Perhaps they could alternate their vigilantism? Artemi shook her head to clear her mind of such foolish thoughts. No, they would need the help of other hands with this.
She thought briefly of her need for clothing, and a neat pile appeared immediately before
her. It was the original and most basic version of Kusuru Assassin garb, complete with red scarf and long boots made with soft, wellworn leather. Artemi began dressing herself in it.
Morghiad did the same with his own, and it was a moment before Artemi realised that he had barely had to concentrate to make it happen. Even though the light seemed to drain into him, and even though his eyes remained green rather than fire
full, he could manipulate The Crux just as naturally as if he had been born there.
As he went to collect the clothing he had conjured for himself, her eye was drawn to his bottom. There was something written on it. She leaned closer to see what it was, and then blinked. In dark green ink, and in a not-very-accomplished version ofthe Frontier Union tongue, was the tattoo, “Property of Artemi Fireblade.”
Morghiad caught the line of her sight, and grinned. “That came after the seventh or eighth beer. You insisted that I should be marked out as your own. You had something similar, but I suppose that moving between worlds has done something to yours. Or perhaps it is proofthat, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to own you.”
Now that she thought on it, she did have a vague recollection of a mraki artist holding a needle
to her backside. Artemi twisted round to have a look at her bottom, but could not see anything written upon it. She almost felt disappointed. “You can brand me when we get back to the Darkworld,” she said, and shrugged into her black bodice. Only when Morghiad had finished dressing did she recognise the coat he had chosen for himself. It was not a Hirrahan or Sunidaran jacket made for fighting or moving about; it was a long, gold-edged and dark velvet coat - the same as the one she had bought him to be kingly in. Morghiad still wore it like a king, even as he summoned his white sword, and belted it over the top. No, especially as he did that. It always had picked out the very best parts of him, but why had he chosen to dress in such a manner here and now?
She decided to put those thoughts aside, and brought forth new ones of how they would
make their way home. Where were those Law-keepers? Artemi quickly snuffed out that thought as well. She did not want to draw them close without good reason. And Tallyn... well...
She put a hand to her stomach. Could such a thing be possible? The Law-keepers had no reason to be that kind to her, but surely if he were to be born again, she would have to carry him a second time...
“Is everything alright?”
Artemi could not allow herself to hope, and to permit Morghiad to go through the same emotions would have been unnecessarily cruel, but the words still burned on her tongue. She had to say it to him. “Could this be Tallyn?”
His face filled with sorrow suddenly, and he took hold of her hands. His skin felt ice cold on hers. “Artemi... I did not bargain with them for that-”
She nodded slowly. “I
understand.” That he had managed to find his way to her was impressive enough. Artemi could hardly expect more from any rescuer. They embraced briefly, and began walking through the Bright Woods. She remembered that she had played in them often as a child, willing objects into existence and wishing they had movement of their own. As was true of so much in this place, where light and warmth were plentiful, spirit and
life were entirely lacking.
“I had to look into some sort of pool to get to your Nightworld and find you – I hope you have a simpler method of getting home.”
Artemi had never used the Darkworld gates in the other direction before, but she had some idea of how they could be found. She summoned the idea of the Darkworld into her mind – all of its life and pain and joy and its features of wielders, kanaala, of
the Blazes, eisiels, its shadowed places and its bright lands. And fire of the fires, those thoughts of the place made her heart ache! Eight doors appeared immediately before her. Only eight? “Morghiad, one of the gates is missing.” Upon each was marked the outline of an animal. There was a tiger, a bear, a toothed fish of some kind, a Jarhoan dragon, a bird of prey and several other creatures that Artemi could not identify.
Nowhere was there a panther. “They’ve closed Gialdin’s gate.”
Morghiad’s back immediately tensed. It would have been a barely perceptible change in his posture to anyone else, but to Artemi it was obvious.
“Why would they do that?” she asked.
“I don’t know – do you think they would have cut off the energy that feeds it too?”
That would have been a
very cruel thing to do, but the Law-keepers would hardly have cared for the impact of it upon lowly Darkworlders. If a wielder had arrived in need of it... Artemi closed her eyes.
“That child needs to be born in an active gate, my heart.” He was using his commanding voice again, and Artemi could barely hope to disagree with it.
“They will have guardians on each of them – guardians who are not so pleasant to look upon
as you are.”
Morghiad folded his arms. “If it is too dangerous, then we will stay here until he or she is born. You can... do that here safely, can’t you?”
“I think so.” Artemi had been too young to know of such things when she had first left The Crux, and the Law-keepers had not seen it proper to educate her on it. She had a faint memory of her first mother, which meant that the woman must have lived
through it. That memory was so distant now, like an ancient drawing that had become sunbleached and washed out through time. Artemi could not recall what her mother had looked lik
e.
Her husband did not appear to be terribly satisfied with the answer, and he pressed his lips together while his brow formed a series of knots. “Choose whichever of these is closest to Gialdin then.”
A map sprang up before her, dotted with the eight creatures of the gates. The closest to the palace was undoubtedly the one on the shores of Kemen, which looked to be guarded by some sort of spider. “That one.”
Morghiad nodded in agreement. “A panther can flatten a spider beneath its paw. I won’t let it hurt you.”
A panther with enormous paws might do such a thing. Artemi had the distinct feeling
that she may have already met one of these guardians before, and in spite of his excellent height and strong arms, she was willing to bet that Morghiad was the smallest ofthem all.
Without further discussion, he strode to the door and stood before it with one hand upon his hilt.
“Wai-”
But Artemi did not have time to finish. For all of Morghiad’s evident ability in this
Voices of Blaze (Volume 5 of The Fireblade Array) Page 33