Voices of Blaze

by H. O. Charles

  Medea looked upward to the sky. “I haven’t met her. But I hear she is… a young kahriss. I’m sure that time and my brother will mould her into a capable lady. I hear Kalad has grown rather fond of her, in any case.”

  “Spoiled then?”

  “Very.”

  Artemi allowed herself a grin. She had never wanted her children to marry for politics before love, but if Kalad had found happiness with this woman, then surely this was the best of outcomes.

  “Is everything alright? What happened in The Crux?” Medea asked.

  “I didn’t spend long there…” Artemi related her tale of her time on the lightless planet, though she elected to leave out some of the details about the mraki, and about the man she had... lain with. Medea never needed to know about any of that; there would be another time for truth telling and sad stories.

  “There’s no Blaze there? That is interesting.” Medea began rifling through her pile of parchments, and pulled one out from the bottom. “I do need to speak to father about this... when I am ready. You know, energy flows from The Crux into the other worlds, and back again. Wielders are like holes in a bucket for one form of it, and the rest ought to be sealed away from curious hands, but somehow… I think through you and perhaps even me… it’s not. Father has access to it – and I believe it happened the day you healed my grandmother while he was still inside her. I’d thought perhaps he had become part of it somehow, like an extra gear in a watermill, but it’s not that at all. He’s outside it – he can shut the mill down.”

  Morghiad the Miller. Oh, he would find that epithet very amusing, if eisiels ever saw humour in anything, or were capable of such an emotion. “He has promised me he will not do anything dangerous again. There will be no more Blaze destruction, Med. Your father’s word is good.”

  “That’s not why I need to speak to him. There’s a void now – a place where the fires ought to burn but do not. It is sending this world out of kilter, and the reverberations of it are worsening with each season. And if this affects The Crux somehow…” She sighed. “He created the hole, and it would follow that he is the only one who can repair it.”

  There could be no repairs while he was in his current state. “It may be some time before he can come here to discuss this with you.”

  “What is it that’s so important?” Medea asked, eyes suddenly sharp and alert.

  Artemi felt her mouth work a little to form the words. “It’s important, Med. It will not take him forever though.” There had to be some way to undo what she had done to him, but not through death. There had to be a better way than that.

  Medea’s gaze took on much of the intensity that her father’s often had. It was a gaze to dig into souls and mine their remotest depths. Artemi could not help but feel somewhat intimidated by it. “I’m sure you’ll tell me when the time is right,” Medea said eventually, and her eyes rapidly dropped to the floor. “Do you know about Tyshar?”

  Artemi nodded. “Your father has him.”

  “Father was here?!” Medea blinked, as if the idea of his presence concerned her. Blazes, could she know?

  “No, your father was not here,” Artemi said slowly. “He simply… called his horse to him.”

  Medea bit her lip, but did not pursue the line of questioning any further. “There is something else that happened while you were away,” she said, “Did you come in by the East Gate?”

  “No – south. But Morghiad mentioned Mirel was… free.”

  Medea’s lips thinned. “No one saw anything or heard anything. There was no wielding. One guard was decapitated, and… ah…”

  Artemi felt sick - sick enough to regurgitate her own ribs - and rose to stand upon feeble feet so that she could pace and check the courtyard for any unwanted eyes. “How long ago did it happen? I don’t even know how much time has passed… Is she still alive? Where is Tallyn Hunter?” Her words became more spat than spoken with each successive question.

  “Several months ago. The bars of her cage were rotted somehow – an infection of sorts-”

  “Lannda!” Artemi hissed.

  “Who?”

  “Mirel called her sister.”

  Medea nodded slowly. “I see. It started at the East Gate as well, and spread into parts of the city. We’ve removed it for now, but there’s no obvious cure if it ever recurs. The kanaala tell me she is still alive, and the only report we’ve had of her was at the peace talks in Astalon. Since then - nothing. No eisiels, no swift killings. As for The Hunter, he is banished. We do not speak.”

  Artemi folded her arms beneath her breasts. If The Hunter knew of Mirel’s escape, then he would have the good sense to stay close to Medea at all times. Or at least, when he was not busy charming the young women of Gialdin City. “Tallyn Hunter!” Artemi called, “I know you’re here. Come now, leave the shadows.”

  Medea jumped visibly as he stepped out from behind one of the pillars at the end of the cloisters. Unusually for him, his face was not filled with grins or good humour, and his clothes were pale shades of ivory rather than black. But then, black assassin’s garb would hide no one in this palace of snowy walls and light.

  “How did you get in here?!” Medea said with a growl in her voice, and fiercely enough to cow any peasant or lord.

  The Hunter shrugged.

  “He is an assassin. It is what he is trained for,” Artemi said with some exasperation. “Now, you two must sort out your problems – and no, I don’t care what they are. Tal, I need you to stay with my daughter at all times. Medea, you are not to send him away under any circumstances. You keep him close day and night, do you understand?”

  “I – I am the queen!”

  “And you are my daughter. I have already lost a son, and I will stitch this man into the lining of your cloak if it means guaranteeing your protection.”

  “But-“

  “But what? Tal?”

  His dark features were solemn. “I would do it anyway. Glad to have you back, Tem.”

  Artemi would have liked to remark that it was good to be back, but her conscience would not permit it. There had already been enough lies and concealed truths today. “You closed the gate to keep Mirel out, didn’t you? Perhaps that was a wise thing to do.”

  Medea nodded with a thin smile.

  “I must go to Kalad immediately and see that he is safe. Where are he and his new wife living?”

  “Redlow. He says they’ve taken over the old Lorthian manor.”

  The Lorthians had finally died out then. That was a sad thing, as it meant that the old nation of Kintaros no longer had its kings’ bloodline in any living man or woman. Artemi had liked the Kintarians a great deal, but all of that was a very long time ago now. She pushed the thought aside rapidly; there were far more important things to worry about now.

  “Wait-” Medea fiddled with a section of lace on her dress as she spoke. “Have you any idea where Silar might be?”

  “Why do you need him?” Artemi asked.

  “Ah… it’s… I wanted to pick his rather unique brain about something. Do you know where he is?”

  Artemi shook her head. It couldn’t be possible that Medea knew about her father’s current state. Not possible at all. “No. I am sorry, I don’t.” After that, she made some very hasty goodbyes and jogged to the stables to find Valina. As she opened the stable door, she was reminded of how Tyshar had always nuzzled Morghiad with impatience every time Valina was led out ahead of him. There would be no more adventures like that now for the two animals.

  She saddled Valina, rode out, but only realised she had failed to raise her hood once she was a good way into the glistening buildings of the city. Fewer people appeared to remember that she had fallen from the sky on the day of her own funeral, but enough to drop themselves onto the road and prompt strange looks from others about them. Artemi gave her most devoted of former subjects a polite nod, but urged Valina forward into a trot rather than pause for the sake of good impressions.

  In time, she had reached t
he darkest areas of the forest once more, and called out to Morghiad. The birdsong was silent here, and there was no movement from the smallest of furry creatures that ought to have inhabited the trees. Apparently, even they were able to detect the wrongness about him. Without the slightest of rustlings amongst the foliage or crunching of leaves, he slithered into view. Artemi, with her millennia of skill and practice, could never have crept so noiselessly as he did now.

  Morghiad’s milk-white eyes gazed at her blankly, and Artemi jumped when they finally blinked. “Where is my daughter?” he rasped.

  “She was never our daughter.” Artemi dismounted, ready to contain whatever eruption would come from him. She was also aware of how fidgety Valina had become in his presence, and did not want to agitate the animal further.

  “I will fetch her,” he said, moving to slide back into the shadow.

  “No! I forbid it. You are my creature, and you will listen.” She very nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped where he was. “Mirel is free, and that means Kalad is in danger. We must go to him.”

  “Name Mirel as my target.”

  “No.”

  “Name her!” he rasped.

  Artemi shook her head. “Killing her will not solve the problem. If anything, it will make it worse. She needs to be locked away again... and Lannda too.” Blazes, if Lannda could destroy Crux-wrought stone and Blaze forms, how would any sort of imprisonment be achieved? Medea had said she was able to cut the rot, but not cure it. It would never be enough. “We need to leave now. We’ll think of a way to deal with them once we know Kalad is safe.”

  Morghiad took a step closer. “I need to kill. It is a hunger and I am starved.”

  “Remember Kalad, and the words Hedinar said to you before he died.”

  “I – I cannot…”

  “Try. Now, we head for Redlow. Keep up as best you can.” She embraced his wasted body tightly, and the contact reminded her that she had not nursed Talia for some time. It would be at least another week before her breasts would become her own again, and that was a memento of her recent experiences that she could very much do without.

  This time she ignored the smears of pinh that Morghiad left upon her clothing, and hopped straight onto Valina’s back. With a sharp kick, the horse leapt into a canter and toward the glowing light that lay at the next clearing. The woodlands still breathed with the life of the gateway nearby, even though it had been closed, and even in spite of the wrongness that Morghiad had brought with him. What a beautiful place this truly was.

  Chapter 19

  The light from the spring sun slid in through the wooden slats that still crossed the windows, and then flopped exhausted upon the stone tiles that lay beneath. Kalad had always intended to have the boards changed for something more sensible in this room, but other tasks had taken precedence in the meantime. He strode back across the creaking floor to sit beside his wife, who had not moved from the bed in two weeks. Occasionally a finger would twitch, or her nose would wrinkle as if she smelled something she did not like, but few other signs of life were evident. Her chest barely moved from her breathing, and the sound of her heart was so faint that he had to strain his ears to hear it through her skin.

  Kalad placed his hand over one of hers and gave it a soft squeeze as if something so simple might rouse her, but of course it did not. For the moment, he enjoyed the sensation of the softness of her skin, and wondered how her fires would have felt if she still had them. It was different in Mirel from how it had been with any other wielder when they made love: sharp, cool and frosted like sparkling glass instead of the hot, searing mess it could have been. It made more sense to have ordered power rather than wild, after all.

  And then, just as he was about to reach across to the bookshelves for one of Lord Lorthian’s tastier novels, Mirel shifted and groaned softly. Her eyelids fluttered open, and the icy blue eyes beneath focussed upon him.

  “Good morning,” he said to her with a broad smile. It was as wide and as confident as any of Silar’s would ever have been, but it belied the true sense of relief and exhaustion he felt. “Well, actually, it’s afternoon now.”

  Mirel smiled back at him, and she reached up with her hand to touch his cheek. Her fingers were so very gentle against his skin. Who could believe this woman was known to the world as a mad assassin? “How long have you been here?” she croaked.

  “You should have some water.” Kalad reached for the nearby jug and the cup of syrup he’d had the maids replace every three hours. “Drink this.” He helped her take a few sips of the diluted sugar, and then lowered her head back onto the pillow. “It’s been the best part of a fortnight,” he said. “I was worried about you.”

  She chuckled weakly. “Are you sure you did not wish that I would fade away and not be a problem to you any longer?”

  “No, Rel.” He bit his lip as he shook his head. “I did not. You almost gave your life to save me, and I... I have come to realise that my heart is lost to you. It will be yours forever.” He waited for what felt like a hundred breaths in the hope of a response from her, but she seemed to have nothing to say to it. “I’m telling you that I love you, Mirel. Perhaps it is wrong… Perhaps you think it is wrong. I just – I need you – you make me feel as if I have a reason to exist. Without you, the world is empty. Do you think you could… ever feel the same for me?”

  Her thin brows drew together. “I am not supposed to love, Kalad. Not in a way that comes before my duties.”

  He nodded slowly and withdrew his hand from hers. “I understand.” Blazes, he had heard enough of duty from his mother over the years! The Daisain had been wrong, she had told him when he was still a boy. How could such a perfect marriage to your father and the handsome family that came with it ever be wrong? she had said. And now that he thought on it, how could his love for Mirel ever be wrong? He had never felt such happiness with any of the other women that he had bedded, and he had bedded more than a few.

  To save himself embarrassment and hide his flushed cheeks, he went to gaze out of the window. There was no wolf moping in the gardens now.

  “I do like you, husband,” Mirel called to him from her bed, and Kalad turned to hear her speak the rest. “I do like you very deeply indeed,” she said.

  ***

  “Is your wife not here? I had been looking forward to meeting her.” Kalad knew his mother well enough to recognise that the smile she wore was false, but he beckoned her to sit in one of the armchairs. Really, she could have given him far more notice of this visit. As she sat down, he noticed there was something altered about her. True, she had spent this life in Sunidara, but it wasn’t that she was more obviously freckled. It was… something was different about her body.

  “That is not really why you’re here,” Kalad said.

  She pressed her lips together and sighed softly. “I do want to meet her, Kal. But there is something more important. Mirel is free. You are the first person she will target to punish me. She will use you, torture you and break you. I need you to come back to Gialdin with me where I can keep you safe until she is captured again.”

  “I’ll take my chances here.”

  “No. She will – blazes, Kal – please, do this for me. Listen to me. I have lost one son and can never get him back. I will not lose another. Your wife can come with you – if you will not think of yourself, then think of her. Mirel will kill her too, without so much as a second thought. She is callous enough to end the lives of anyone who stands in her way. Four thousand of Calidell’s soldiers meant nothing to her… one wife-”

  “We stay here.” His mother thought she knew Mirel, but she was so very, very mistaken about her character. Kalad was the only one who had seen far enough into Mirel’s heart to know that what she did was always for the greater good. She was far from a danger to him; she was his strength, and that strength would see the world through. “My wife was injured recently. She needs to rest rather than travel across the country. My answer is no.”

  “We
ll, I can wield something to make her heal faster. She will feel better for it.”

  Kalad shook his head. “She’s to have no visitors. We will not leave here – I’d rather we both lived a few more days in this paradise than years locked up in that white prison. I grew to despise that place and everything it represented, and I will not go back to it.”

  His mother looked to the floor as if defeated, which was unusually soon for her. Kalad recalled disagreements with her that had lasted for days. And the questions – she would have questioned and probed every blazed thing she could poke her nose into, but this time she did not.

  “Where is my father?”

  She looked up suddenly, as if a noise had startled her. “He… I think… your father...”

  “My father…?”

  “He needs your help.”

  Kalad blinked rapidly. “Is he alright?”

  His mother shook her head with sadness, and a single tear made its escape down her cheek. “No. No, he is not.”

  “Well, what’s wrong? What can I do?”

  She inhaled a lengthy breath and rose from her chair. “Come with me.”

  Kalad followed her obediently from the sitting room and out into the open air. It was a woefully humid day for the height of summer, but he had come to realise that such weather was common in this place at the foot of the mountains. Where the countries met, so did the clouds and the cold air that made them sink.

  “Your father told me that you came to an accord of sorts during the peace talks,” his mother said in a voice that trembled slightly. “I was so glad to hear of it.”