The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  Hours of the night passed as he endeavoured to find a way of saving Morghiad and the army from Acher’s influence. Silar even tried placing the king directly into the situation, and the results of that were even more

  disastrous. Worse, if Morghiad kept the secret, the army would find out eventually anyway and imprison the kahr, before being violently torn apart. Silar felt exhausted, hopeless and drawn. His head was pounding from the effort. Sometimes change is inevitable, his mother had said when he’d predicted the death of his favourite, young and apparently healthy horse. He’d cried about that in the weeks before it came to pass, but then Silar had only been seven years old. And Faidar had been as good an animal as a boy could have wished for. But that had been something he could not fight. This was avoidable, somehow. Light from the early sun began to brighten the innards of his tent. Already time to get up and move the army northwards. Sometimes Morghiad had no idea of the trouble he caused.

  The kahr grabbed Aval roughly by the arm and pulled her to a small copse of tangled oak at the edge of the camp. His fine black hair fell about his ears in unruly wisps and dark stubble marched along his jaw. It was unlike him to appear unshaven, but there was something urgent about his disposition. The man’s shoulders worked smoothly with each stride. He looked especially beautiful with his appearance roughened by days of hard travel and fighting. At last he had accepted his

  attraction to her. At last he was going to throw her against a tree and take whatever he wanted from her body. Aval could not deny that she loved him, but she had met more troublesome obstacles in her time than that little witch, Artemi. The lady softened her lips in anticipation of the attention she knew she was about to receive. Men had always been captured by her looks, and she always ensnared her desired prey. Would he be as impressive with his clothes off as he was with them on? Aval made sure she took in an eyeful of his excellent bottom while they strode into the trees together.

  Morghiad set her against a broad tree and folded his arms, expression stern. He said nothing. Perhaps he was waiting for her to advance on him. Sometimes even the most

  confident of men could secretly be utterly shy. Aval stepped forward and raised herself on tiptoes to kiss him. His reaction was not what she’d expected: the man grunted, apparently in annoyance, and placed her firmly back against the tree before re-folding his arms. What sort of game was this? She moved forward again, only to find her back meeting the rough bark of the tree once more.

  “What is it that you want of me, Aval?” he asked gruffly.

  That was a stupid question if ever she’d heard one. Clearly brains did not come with beauty. “Oh come now, you know what I desire. Why else would you have brought me here? I have seen you admiring me for some time, so why don’t you -”

  “I can assure you that I harbour no

  admiration for your looks or character.” He frowned.

  Artemi must have brainwashed him into saying such idiotic things. She would get her comeuppance for this. Aval could think of several ways for her to suffer, not least informing the king of the witch’s little secret. “If that is true, then why have you brought me here?”

  Morghiad took a breath. “You are not to return to Cadra. If I catch sight of you there or I hear from my network that you have entered the city I will have you hunted down and forcibly expelled. You must never go back there. Do you understand?”

  The kahr was talking utter rubbish. She was a free woman, a daughter of the powerful di Certa family. No one told them where they

  could or could not go! Not even a kahr! “I go where I choose. I am not a criminal.”

  Morghiad seethed through gritted teeth. “You endangered the lives of people I care about. And impersonating a soldier of the Calidellian army is a punishable offence. So yes, you have committed more than one crime in my eyes and in the eyes of others. You will not return to Cadra.”

  Aval’s passion had entirely evaporated and had been replaced by anger. She bit her lip and stomped out of the copse.

  His voice came from surprisingly close behind her. “I need you to give me your word that you will not return there.”

  She walked back into the camp, shoulders stiff with annoyance, and turned to him. “Why should I do as you command if the

  king is pleased with my presence?”

  “Because you have no choice.” Some of the resting soldiers looked up at their captain, alerted by the tone in his voice.

  Aval hadn’t wanted to use this threat against him; it was below her, but he was right that she had no choice: “Then I will tell the king about your little whore’s secret.” Several of the nearby men stood, hands on hilt.

  Anger flashed in Morghiad’s brilliant green eyes. His face twisted into a snarl. “If you do anything to endanger her life I can guarantee that you will suffer for it.” He clutched at the uppers of her arms with an iron grip. “Do not think that because you are a woman I would spare you any more pain than I would a man. Tell the king or anyone else about her and you have my word that I shall kill you.” He released

  her arms. “Pack your things and leave today. I’ll have your possessions at Cadra sent to your family’s house when we return.” He turned and strode with his usual grace from the area.

  Aval looked around at the faces of the soldiers. All men stood firmly, arms crossed. They did not appear sympathetic to her at all. One man had even nodded with approval at Morghiad’s promise to murder her. What sort of army was this? She felt embarrassed as well as shaken, though it had not been enough to dissolve her attraction to the kahr. She feared that would take some time to fade. The lady drew herself up and pushed her shoulders back. She had missed her parents in the three years she’d been absent from their home. Perhaps now was a good time to visit them, and their lands were not too far from Jesundh in any case. Yes, she really ought to go and see her dear mother and father.

  Silar called loudly through the tent opening, “Is it safe to come in?”

  Artemi stifled a grin. “Yes, Lieutenant Silar. You may enter.” She had missed him a little while they’d been away. There was something very reassuring about his presence, though she could not have said what it was. Artemi felt a grain of warmth inside the kahr at hearing Silar’s voice. Morghiad had missed him too, though he would never have admitted it. His face was still darker than a thundercloud, however. The tall, blond man stepped through the doorway in a somewhat crumpled uniform. The beginnings of a dark yellow beard clutched at his jaw and his hair was all over the place: messiness that he usually wore well. But his face was grey and his eyes bloodshot. “Light of Achellon, what happened to you?” Artemi rose to look more closely at him. He looked like he’d aged a thousand years. She guided him down to a soft pile of cushions and inspected his exhausted eyes in the dim light.

  The lieutenant laughed softly. “As much as I enjoy you fussing over me I fear it is only a symptom of my own actions. I’ll live, girl.” He moved her hand from his face.

  “What have you been doing? Drinking

  pinh by the pint?” She could hear Morghiad shifting about behind her.

  “It’s what happens when you spend a few days staring into a pit of possibilities,” Silar said.

  What did he mean by that? Artemi went to sit by Morghiad, who was spinning that dagger of his again.

  The kahr met her eyes. “Silar has something of a talent for looking into the future.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” the lieutenant interjected.

  Artemi looked at the blond man. “Like the dreamI had before the battle?”

  “No,” Morghiad stated, matter-of- factly.

  Silar frowned. “What dream was this?” The kahr spoke before she could. “It doesn’t matter now. Tell me what you saw, Silar.”

  The lieutenant compressed his lips and rested his forearm on a raised knee. “It is not good. The men will learn of the truth no matter what you do, and when they hear it, the army will be torn apart or dissolve into a great big fight between two factions.”
<
br />   The news came like a hard punch to Morghiad, and Artemi felt it just as keenly.

  Silar continued, “The only wayI can see to avoid it... and I cannot explain the reasoning behind it... is that you have Koviere with you when you tell them. And after that you must kill King Acher. And it must be you, no one else. Though a young sergeant and Eupith will try. But if you do these things you two will

  live and the army will stay whole.”

  Why would the men listen to a prisoner who sounded like a madman? And regicide? “How can you be sure of this?” she asked.

  He levelled his blue-eyed gaze at her. “I’m not, entirely. It is just the most likely of outcomes.”

  “He is usually right,” Morghiad said quietly.

  Artemi was more than a little impressed by this talent. “Do you know the name of the sergeant?”

  Silar shook his head.

  “Can you look at the future of anything at all?” Her curiosity peaked.

  The blond man grinned. “Only where human action is involved, and only if I’ve encountered the people concerned, or read

  something of them. No doubt I’ve seen that sergeant before, or brushed past him at some point. My eyes will have seen something about him that my consciousness did not. Of course, I cannot account for the actions of people unknown to me, but the repercussions of their actions cast shadows across the lives of the people I do know. And sometimes those shadows reappear in the things I see. Oh...” he grinned broadly, “And don’t ride into the

  Jesundh Town Hall naked. It won’t end well.” Silar winked at her.

  Artemi could feel her cheeks reddening. A glimmer of annoyance surfaced in Morghiad, but he was quick to suppress it.

  “Do you know if there’s a time limit on dispatching the king?” The kahr asked.

  Silar’s eyebrows raised. “Well, that

  explains that part of the scene. It can’t be immediate. There was something about three years and a shadow -” He cut off to look at Artemi. “Beyond that I’m not sure; I’ll have to investigate further.”

  Morghiad rubbed at his stubble. “Take some days to rest first. There is something else I want you to apply your talents to which may link closely to what you saw.”

  They were keeping something from her, both of them. She hated that. Artemi trusted them enough to know they thought they were doing whatever it was for her protection, but it was enormously frustrating. Asking about it in the past had only produced blank stares and silence from either, or a swift change of subject. She explored Morghiad’s emotions, but found nothing that betrayed his secrecy. He certainly

  didn’t seem to feel guilty about keeping this thing from her. Hopefully he could feel how irritated she was about it. She didn’t want to upset him, only to let him know that she wasn’t blind to the undertones of their conversation.

  Silar’s eyes locked onto her second sword. He frowned briefly. “Did you find what you were looking for at Gialdin?”

  The kahr nodded. “I can see why Acher was envious of it. If I could move Cadra there I would. He deserves to pay for what he did.”

  Artemi filled her heart with love for him, hoping that he would find strength in it. Morghiad’s grim face relaxed a little. She could feel a smile building up inside him, though it did not surface.

  “Well, I could do with a good sleep

  before we move off again tomorrow.” Silar stood and offered a nod to them both. “I will see you then, King Morghiad.” He grinned and walked out while the kahr scowled after him. Artemi regarded him as he lay back onto a row of cushions and propped his head on his hand. His eyes betrayed that he was deep in thought. She had no doubt that he would make an excellent king for Calidell, and probably wouldn’t look too bad with a crown on his head. It was what he’d been raised for, after all. The situation surprised her in more than one way: growing up in the poorest district of the capital, she’d never expected to be the lover of a king – and certainly not one so handsome. She didn’t want to interrupt his thought, and went to study the maps that lay in the corner. There was something very calming

  about looking at plans of far-off lands, their foreign names and the mysterious drawings of features there. On the top of the pile lay Koviere’s drawing of the Kemeni mountain caves. The network was enormous: so vast that it stretched over the edge of the parchment and onto another. How it had persisted without the knowledge of the Kemeni government was an utter mystery. She placed the map to one side and examined the one below. It was clearly an old map, since it marked Gialdin out as a separate country with a large, white castle near its centre. Gialdin had been a key acquisition for Calidell as it provided a direct route to the sea and the vast trade networks beyond. Artemi wondered what the sea really looked like. She’d read books about it and seen paintings, but the idea of a lake that stretched

  out to eternity seemed impossible. Her eye was then drawn to a huge, green triangle on a separate continent: Dekusu Forest. It covered an area the size of modern Calidell and was dotted with a few small towns. What must it have been like to grow up in an endless sea of trees?

  She sensed Morghiad was watching her and suddenly felt rather self-conscious. He came to look over her shoulder. “What interests you this time?”

  “Dekusu forest. Do you think it is anything like the woodlands around the city of Gialdin or more like those near Cadra?”

  “I’ve heard it is like neither one.” He ran a hand over her hair. “There is a book about it in my chambers. It says that they are greener than any normal green, and the trees

  grow taller than the Cadran walls. Perhaps some of it is a little poetic, butI understand the forests are thick enough to prevent farming and that cities could never grow very large there. It is an excellent place to hide, though you may never find your way out again.”

  He was right. If you were horseless with only the sun and stars to guide you, it could take months to reach the coast. Artemi returned her attention to the map. They were still at least three weeks from Cadra. She was glad for the time away from the constraints of castle life. At least while they marched she was free to enjoy Morghiad’s company and she could be open about her wielding ability amongst the soldiers. That freedom couldn’t be valued.

  The great crowd of chattering soldiers thronged in the practice hall, proud to be wearing their uniforms again. Three days had passed since they’d returned to the capital and in that time news of their exploits had spread through the city like a plains storm. Great, sinking cliffs and caves with castles in them

  tended to get townsfolk talking. The soldiers laughed loudly between themselves, sharing tales of the reactions they’d received. Orwin grinned as Artemi came to stand beside him. He felt a little ridiculous to be her sergeant given that she had bested everyone in the battalion, and that she was a famous hero. There was always that amusing aspect to be considered when he gave her orders. She gave him a weak smile in return. The sergeant thought it better not to ask, though it made him worry. He’d seen the lieutenants before the rest of the men had entered the hall, and all of their faces had been ashen. He looked at the redhaired soldier again. Her red lips were thinned by concern. “Whatever it is, Artemi, you will always have us at your side.”

  She raised those large brown eyes of

  hers to regard him, and looked about to speak. But she said nothing. She touched his arm gently instead, and resumed her distant stare. Orwin felt worry creep through his spine. He hadn’t seen her react like that before. If she hadn’t been Morghiad’s woman, he would have given her a hug to cheer her up. It always seemed to work on his sisters. And Artemi was like a rather wilful sister.

  The dark figure of the captain flowed onto the stage in a swirl of cloak and sword. The hall hushed in recognition of his presence. He had certainly earned the respect of his men in the short time he had led them. Orwin knew they’d follow him to more horrifying places than those dire caves if he thought it was a good idea. Morghiad looked over his men, face grim. Come to think of it
, the sergeant hadn’t seen

  him crack a smile since leaving the caves; not that the man smiled much in any case. The captain motioned for someone to join him on the platform. A low hum of chatter followed the guest from the back of the hall, but even with the gentle slope of the floor Orwin couldn’t see who it was. After a few seconds two soldiers climbed onto the raised area with a stretchered man between them. That curious giant they’d taken prisoner sat upright on the carrier. Most of his left arm had now re-grown, which was quite remarkable considering the chunk Morghiad had taken out of it only a month earlier. The soldiers set the giant down next to the captain and went to stand at the edge of the platform, the noises of their feet amplified by the shape of the room.

  The dark man began to speak, “As you all know, I have given my pledge of honesty to each soldier here, for I believe that trust is an essential part of any army. And trust can only be earned through honesty. Following our exit from the caves, I learned of a truth that had remained hidden from me. It was not kept from me by any man here, for I believe that any soldiers with knowledge of this secret were either put to death, banished or imprisoned. The arbiter of all this was, of course, the man you know as my father, King Acher. And what he sought to hide from you, me and the rest of the country was that I am not his son.”