The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  Silar was studying her closely.

  “Hmm.” “Hmm?”

  she said back at him.

  “Why don’t you trust him?” His ultramarine eyes caught the light as he spoke.

  Artemi was lost for words. “I...do. I...” She swallowed, trying to work out what he meant.

  Morghiad stepped forward.

  Silar pressed further: “Has something happened between you two?”

  Artemi shook her head. “Nothing. Perhaps I find it easier to connect with

  someone who will talk to me.” She looked back at the kahr.

  He was gazing at the floor with an expression she didn’t recognise. What was wrong with the stone-faced idiot?

  “You must tell him the truth, Artemi.” Morghiad replaced the cadet swords in their cabinet and locked it securely.

  “I cannot. He will disown me. It would break his heart. It is bad enough thatI killed my mother, but for it to have been caused by my ability to wield -” A tear tried to build at her eye.

  He stood and took her by the arms. “Artemi, he already knows your birth was linked to your mother’s death. Whatever anger he may have felt about it will be gone. You are his only daughter and I must explain to him why you are my benay-gosa. I should have done it much sooner.” He hated upsetting her, hated it.

  She pushed her dark reddish-gold hair behind one ear and whispered, “Alright. But he already has taken a slight... dislike to you.”

  “I’m sure he has.” Morghiad helped her put on her green silk coat. “You’ll ride with me to see him.”

  “As you wish.” She touched the fastenings absently.

  They strode down to the stables, where Morghiad saddled up Tyshar and examined his benay-gosa from the other side of the horse. It was strange that a hero of legend, the strongest wielder in the world, could appear so vulnerable and so... delicate. Green had been an excellent choice for her. It set off her hair and skin quite strikingly. He finished buckling Tyshar’s bridle as the horse pawed at the ground with eagerness. Morghiad led the mount out and jumped on his back, before helping Artemi up so that she was sat across his lap. Unfortunately, it was quite impossible for her to sit astride the saddle in benay-gosa scarves.

  Of course, it had been difficult adjusting to having her around all the time and worse when she had as much as admitted she did not trust him. He had reacted unwisely to the news

  that evening: choosing to find solace at the bar while she slept in his bed. And when he had returned he found himself considering climbing into the bed with her, which certainly would have upset the woman. A soldier needed to trust their captain and Morghiad felt as if every action he took pushed her farther away.

  A long while had passed since she had taken his arm when they walked about together. He kicked the horse into a fast-paced walk, and they stepped into the noise of the city. People would often stop to look at her, to admire her, but she buried her head in his chest as if to hide. It was curious that she did not like the admiration she received, or perhaps she was embarrassed to be seen with him.

  The gritty green roads became rougher and less even as he rode into the poor quarter.

  When they reached the plant-covered house, Artemi dismounted from Tyshar and went to knock on the door. Morghiad dismounted too, and tethered his horse to a convenient post. No one would be successful in stealing the animal unless they had a body made of iron.

  He took a deep breath. Facing her father was a duty he had put off for far too long, but he needed to ensure the man knew his intentions, and knew of an escape plan should anything happen to his daughter’s protector. A square and sturdy man arrived at the door, rusty-coloured hair glinting in the sunlight. His pale blue eyes indicated that he had been around for a century or more, but Morghiad could not have guessed his age beyond that. The man embraced his daughter and offered the kahr a sour look. “Come in if you must, my

  lord.”

  Morghiad stepped into the building and was pleasantly surprised by the cosiness of the room. The hearth was well-used and warm, with a thick rug in front of it. Two small beds lay at either corner of the room, covered by monochrome geometric textiles of blue and creamy white. There were numerous drawings and paintings on the wall, some of them quite beautiful. Interspersed were some rather lessaccomplished images, clearly drawn by a child. “Were these done by Artemi?”

  “Yes,” came the terse answer from her father. And then as an afterthought, “My lord.”

  Morghiad smiled in spite of himself. He couldn’t remember being given much time to draw or play as a child, but it seemed Artemi had known a happy life with her father. He

  offered the older man a hand and his name. “Morghiad.”

  Her father eyed his hand with suspicion for a moment, but took it and offered his own name. “Toryn.”

  That was as good a start as any. Toryn offered him one of the only two seats, but Morghiad declined. It was the other man’s house, after all.

  “So,” the older man began, “Have you come to ask permission to make my daughter your bed fellow or simply to keep her as your unpaid sword fodder?”

  “Father!” Artemi exclaimed.

  Morghiad remained calm; this was closer to the sort of reception he had expected. “We are not bed fellows. And she is a soldier in the army, but she receives payment for it.”

  Artemi added, “I’ve told you before, father, he made me benay-gosa so that the king wouldn’t.”

  Toryn eyed them both closely and folded his arms. “Well what’s wrong with my daughter that you haven’t tried to bed her then?”

  Artemi almost dropped the cup she was holding.

  Morghiad did not feel it was right for him to reveal her secret, though he would if she needed help doing it. “Tell him, Artemi.”

  Toryn looked questioningly at her.

  She set the cup down and tidied the skirt of her coat. She looked at her father, then at Morghiad, and back again. “There’s somethingI haven’t...” she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m a wielder.” She looked at him in

  desperation, but did not cry.

  Her father’s eyes widened for a moment, but he appeared quite unsurprised by the news. He went to hug his daughter. “I always knew there was something about you, girl.” He gave her a squeeze. “Your mother didn’t bring you into this world to be ordinary, now, did she?” He stroked her hair. “Hush, I am not angry.”

  Morghiad felt a little uncomfortable around their strong display of emotion, and he felt as if it were not really his business. He appraised the floor closely. Was that floorboard loose?

  Toryn brought his attention back from the ground. “How was this discovered? I had you tested when you were just born and they said you couldn’t wield a drop.”

  Morghiad answered him, “Her ability is masked in a wayI have not seen before. It is invisible to all kanaala that do not make contact with her.”

  Her father thought for a moment. “Morghiad. I suppose you were instrumental in keeping this a secret from your father.”

  He nodded.

  “Then I must offer you my thanks in protecting her. However, it is now clear to me why you have added her to your army and perhaps why you chose to keep her a secret. Clearly she is a useful weapon to you and, as any father would agree, I do not appreciate seeing my beautiful and innocent young daughter employed to kill and take part in your futile battles.”

  “I have not done it solely for my own

  gain, Toryn.”

  Toryn looked fiercely at him. “You will have to try harder than that to convince me, lad. How much of a choice did she have in this?”

  Morghiad was unable to answer.

  Artemi spoke for him instead. “He has taken excellent care of me. And I did make a choice to stay here and protect the people of Calidell. That is whatI said I would do.”

  But the kahr knew she was casting her situation in a far more positive light than it deserved. He could see now, from her relationship with her father, that she never could hav
e left him. Morghiad had forced her into this decision; he had not given her the choice she deserved, and the guilt of his actions began to weigh heavily upon him.

  Toryn was right to remain unconvinced, but he left the matter there. “Well then, I have no desire to look at your glum face all day, lad. Artemi, are you alright to go back with him? I’ll walk you back to the castle if you like.”

  She looked to Morghiad for permission.

  “Do as you wish,” he said. “But before I go, I must speak to you alone, Toryn.”

  “You can tell me what you need to in front of her.”

  The kahr shook his head. “I’m afraid that I cannot. Of course you may relate it to her yourself later, if you think it wise.”

  Artemi and her father looked puzzled at his explanation. But she gave him a final hug, stepped out of the door and went to pay her attentions to Tyshar.

  “Well?” Toryn asked.

  This would be the most difficult part of the meeting, and possibly the most damaging to the father and daughter’s relationship, but Toryn had to know if she was to be kept safe. “I believe that your daughter is the warrior Artemi of legend.”

  Her father smiled, and then laughed. “Has all that royal entitlement finally sent you mad? She is a capable girl but those are just stories. And of course she will look like the character, that’s whyI named her so.”

  The kahr pressed on. “In six months of picking up her first sword she learned what ought to have taken a lifetime. She wields like someone who has spent decades learning the forms. Two weeks ago she learned an entire dance in two days and could execute it

  perfectly. I can think of no other explanation for the masked nature of her power. How else do I explain these things?”

  Toryn thought for a moment. “Can you not simply accept that she is an intelligent and able young woman?”

  “She is one of the cleverest people I have known, and yes, I think she is singular in her abilities, even if one strips away her meteoric learning. ButI found this in a very old book.” Morghiad took the rolled-up picture of her from his coat and handed it to her father.

  He looked at it for a minute and then sat down slowly. “Is this genuine? She always hated it when I tried to read Chronicles to her when she was little.” He looked at the picture again. “Said it gave her a headache.” He smiled thinly. “Are you sure of this?”

  The kahr nodded.

  Toryn fell silent in contemplation.

  “Artemi cannot know of this until her memories return of their own accord,” Morghiad said.

  “I have been around long enough to know about vanha-sielu, lad.” Toryn admonished. Then, “Why did you tell me of this?”

  “Because there is a chance that, when she remembers, she will want to leave here and whatever ties she has to myself and the army will become insignificant. I am under no illusions that I can keep her here against her will. But I want to know that someone she cares very deeply for will be around to protect her. And I want you to be forewarned and prepared for when it happens.” The kahr folded his arms.

  Toryn looked confused. “You are asking a father to protect his daughter?”

  Morghiad smiled. It was the response he had hoped for. “I wanted to know if you would still be her father when you heard the news.”

  Toryn looked almost insulted at that, which was good.

  “I have a plan in place for her escape, should she need it. The details are on this document.” He pulled out a folded note. “Memorise them and then burn it.”

  The older man examined the kahr closely, and Morghiad couldn’t help feeling as if he were under the lens of a magnifying glass. “There’s more to you than your pretty face, lad. I’ll give you that. But don’t think of that as an invitation to bed my daughter. I’ve heard

  enough today to confirm that no man is good enough for her.”

  The kahr offered him a nod of agreement and made his goodbyes. He smiled at Artemi as he re-mounted Tyshar; she would always have someone around who cared for her, and that was the most important thing.

  Strong, golden light pulsed out of the sun, suspended like a disc of pure Blaze Energy

  in the azure sky. Its light warmed Artemi’s body deeply, and she bathed in it at the window for some time. She was bored today, unbelievably bored. She had read the latest borrowed book in a couple of hours and was now confined to her benay-gosa apartments, alone. All the other benay-gosa were entertaining the king at some sort of party, not that she missed them a great deal. They seemed to think she had gotten off lightly with her union to the kahr, and she was sure some of them suspected the truth about their relationship. And Morghiad was off attending some business that did not concern her, or probably looking for an excuse not to see her. It was curious that she missed his company when it was absent and yet detested it when he was present.

  It was not as if she had grown fond of

  his expressionless, stony countenance and utter lack of conversation. Artemi also missed her sword and her horse. But, naturally, she wasn’t allowed to take either of those out without his permission. She went to lie on her silky, soft bed. This truly was a gemstone-encrusted prison cell.

  Artemi closed her eyes and dreamt she was riding Glacier across the grassy plains, feeling the breeze upon her face and in her hair. She wished she could wield a giant doorway into some faraway land and gallop right through it, with nothing but her sword for company. That would be a wonderful freedom. Instead she opened her eyes to a silk-lined, stone wall. She sat up.

  Would anyone really miss her if she went out for a short ride? The men of the army

  trusted her well enough now to let her go, and she couldn’t exactly be sneaky about it, in any case. The only issue would be slipping out without the attendants knowing. She amused herselfwith thoughts of knocking them out with her bare fists, and glanced out of the window again. It was not too much of a drop to the courtyard below, but it would be very obvious. Artemi paced the room twice, listening for footfalls outside. It was silent. She fastened on her new, long and green satin coat. It had been made especially with riding in mind, split at the back and front, which meant she could sit astride whilst still looking respectable. Morghiad had hidden a long knife for her under the mattress. She reached for it and stuffed it inside her coat. Next, she pulled on her calflength, soft leather riding boots and listened at

  the door. There was no one there. Artemi pushed the door open as if she were stepping out of it normally, but kept her footfalls silent. If they did see her, at least she would not look suspicious. The antechamber was empty. Artemi strode right out of the benay-gosa apartments.

  Whilst moving through the halls, she kept her walk and posture relaxed. There was nothing unusual about her walking unaccompanied, she told herself, and Morghiad would be quick to approve of her walking in the corridors. It was only the king who was funny about that sort of thing, and she was not going to bump into him if he was partying with his mistresses. She passed a few servants who looked at her but said nothing, and even nodded at a few of the guards she recognised.

  Some gave her curious looks, but did not stop her. Artemi arrived at the stables in surprisingly little time, and began saddling Glacier.

  A guard walked into the box. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Artemi’s heart sank. She had failed.

  He stepped in and examined the tack. “That is no work for the captain’s benay-gosa. Allow me.” The man finished her preparations and then led the horse out for her.

  She tried to keep her eyes from bulging, but forced as warm a smile as she could and offered thanks, mounting Glacier while he held her. She took the reins and trotted the animal out of the castle. The early summer breeze touched her cheeks as she entered the city, its smell mingled with that of fires, street food and perfumes. Glacier danced through the people, clearly as eager to escape as she was.

  Upon reaching the city walls, a guard stepped into her path. His long, shoulder-length hair was tied back in a leath
er band. It was the man who had carried her at the Battle of Gorena. “Why are you alone?” he asked.

  “Morghiad has some pressing business to attend to, and is unable to accompany me at present,” she responded.

  He nodded but did not move. “Will you be alright? I have a couple of free men who could go with you.”

  Artemi compressed her lips. “I will be fine. I am quite capable of defending myself.”

  He thought for a moment. “Just be careful out there.”

  Artemi nodded. Why did they have to

  fuss so much? She could feel the open land calling to her beyond the gates. The soldier moved out of her way and waved her past. Artemi kicked her bay mare into a canter through the tunnel and then out - out into the wide expanse of the Cadran grasslands.

  It felt as good as she had imagined it would. Adrenaline and excitement surged through her veins at the freedom from her prison. She delighted in the sensation of the wind and the smell of new leaves, the power of the horse thundering at the ground beneath her. The mount was the finest gift she had received from anyone, more valuable to her even than the sword. Together they stormed up the slope to the woods, now a brilliant green with their fresh growth. It contrasted vibrantly with the blue of the sky, making Artemi’s heart beat