Artemi located thirty-three A and thirty-four B, but no thirty-four A. Perhaps Morghiad had just meant to wind her up about it and the damn thing didn’t even exist. She hadn’t detected any mirth in him when he’d said it though. “Can anyone see a thirty-four A?” The men might as well have something to occupy them. The six of them trawled the racks for a while without success, even checking to see if it had been misplaced amongst the other folders. Artemi scanned the nearby tables. It wasn’t there either. She looked to her left; a diminutive man with long, pale hair stood at the end of the stacks. His light blue eyes spoke of millennia, truly the oldest eyes she’d ever seen; older than Koviere’s.
He bowed in her direction. That was odd; no one outside the army bowed to benaygosa! Irritatingly, Neleum nodded with approval at the small man’s salutation. “CanI help, my Lady Artemi?” His voice sounded like old wood rasping on stones.
“Do you know where we might find thirty-four A of the red files?”
The man gave her a small but knowing smile. “I’m guessing kahr sent you looking for that. I keep it in my... special collection. If my lady and her attendants would follow me?”
The soldiers certainly wouldn’t appreciate being called that! She followed the old man through a shadowy labyrinth of shelving. “MightI know your name?” she enquired, almost tripping over a pile of giant leather-bound tomes.
“Dorlunh, my lady,” he said as he walked unfeasibly quickly.
They reached a small, enclosed cave of dusty books in which the man apparently lived. “Good lad, that kahr,” Dorlunh said as he dug through a pile of papers, “Keen eye for detail.”
Artemi heard Cydia blow through his moustaches behind her.
The old man pulled out the mysterious red file and handed it to her.
“Thank you, Dorlunh. May I take this to read in the main chamber?”
He nodded. “Ifmy lady could bring it back to me once she is finished?”
“Of course.” The wielder worked her way through the stacks to a broad and wellworn oak table. Her guards spread themselves around the bay, looking relaxed in spite of their
readiness. The file flopped open in front of Artemi. A collection of grey, broadsheet plans sat folded and layered on top of each other inside. There didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about them at first glance. Artemi opened the top sheet out across the desk. There was some notation across the top in old Calidellian, which she didn’t understand very well. One of the words was ‘tenshigha’ which Artemi recognised as ‘exit.’ The other words were a mystery. She whispered them aloud in the hope that the sound would elucidate their meaning: “Gorans te an’h tenshigha fullun
n’awbroth.” A stomach-wrenching headache hit her with full force, causing her to hiss in surprise. Some of the men jumped as if she’d been hit by some unknown missile. “It’s just another blasted headache. I’ll be alright.”
Images of men in odd purple uniforms flashed up before her, running with gritted teeth. There was a vast waterfall, taller even than the walls of Cadra. And then there were swathes of mud in heavy rain; they looked a bit like the plains outside the city. The pain was subsiding very slowly. These headaches always seemed to come with peculiar images she could not explain. They had been far less frightening than others she’d seen. In some of them it was almost as if she’d observed her own death. Dimly she felt Morghiad begin to relax. The poor man had to suffer through these attacks whenever she did. He was lower down in the castle, doing some sword practice. What sort of council meeting involved sword practice? Artemi pushed the images aside. She had to focus on whatever this ridiculous pile of
plans was supposed to reveal to her. The main drawing showed a circular structure within a square one. Along the edge of the square were cross sections of what Artemi supposed were walls. The thickest wall curved very gently on one side and the other ones seemed to be marked out for windows and doors. Sat squarely in the middle of the thickest wall was an arrangement of machinery and levers, either side of a gate. It was a plan of the castle’s entrance courtyard, she realised, and it demonstrated how much broader the open area had once been. The circular structure within it was unknown to her, though. Perhaps it had never been built, or had since been removed. Artemi moved on to the next plan. It described an elevation view of the courtyard walls and floor. There appeared to be some sort of ramp
descending from underneath the courtyard, and it led to a high-ceilinged tunnel. Upon opening the next plan Artemi realised exactly what she was looking at. A hidden escape tunnel. The entrance was now somewhere inside the buildings that lined the courtyard, but the exit must have been several miles into the plains. And it wasn’t a narrow tunnel, either; but wide enough to get several horses down, riding abreast. She replaced the plans in their folder and closed it. Perhaps it was time to locate this tunnel entrance.
Dorlunh took the file back with barely contained excitement. He appeared to appreciate having someone to share the secret with. Before long she was treading the halls with her personal guard again; out of the warm embrace of the library and into surroundings of cold, hard stone. She didn’t tell the men about the tunnel, and they were well-trained enough not to ask. For some reason Morghiad had striven to keep it secret and she did not want to be the one to break his security. The group reached the ground floor of the castle, heavily shaded at this time of day. “Could you check that the nearby halls are clear?” All men nodded and immediately took up their positions, eyes alert and ready. They knew she was about to wield. Artemi leapt into the flames, but was stopped short of embracing them.
Neleum had grabbed her by the arm. “The king approaches.”
The other men immediately circled around her once more and, still out of sight of the old king, she made as if to walk to the left
corridor. They quickened their pace. The last thing she wanted was a conversation with that man leering at her and claiming that it did not matter whether he or Morghiad sired her children. She shuddered at the thought.
A noise behind them made the men pause. She turned her head. Dratted king! However had he caught up with them? Artemi had no choice now. She’d have to stop and bow and be polite in their exchange. Several women in red followed closely behind him. As much as the other benay-gosa had grown to dislike her, she was relieved to see them there.
“Good day, Artemi,” the bearded man boomed.
She curtseyed deeply. “My king.” She would be glad not to have to honour him with that title for much longer.
He smiled back at her in a way she did not like. “I have need of your guardsmen to accompany me. Apparently there has been word of an eisiel in the city.”
She could sense the men becoming anxious around her. If there was an eisiel, she needed to get to her sword quickly. “Of course.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cydia’s whiskered mouth tighten. “Which of them will you take with you?”
“Oh, I’ll have them all, girl.”
Neleum grunted quietly, and all of the man maintained their positions. They had sworn to protect her, after all. Then again, the king was their ward just as much as she was. “As you wish, my king. I’m sure I will have no trouble finding replacements.” She said that more for the soldiers’ benefit than the king’s.
He suppressed a small smile. “That won’t be necessary. And I’m not blind to my son’s affection for you. Why don’t you have my most trusted man, Hegard, take you back to your rooms? He is a very good swordsman, I assure you.”
The ponytailed, tree-like man stepped forward and inclined his head. Artemi was not sure why Morghiad had taken such an immediate dislike to the man. True, his expressions were somewhat sneering, but no worse than any she’d seen from Jarynd. She smiled in acceptance of her new protector.
Hegard was quiet as they walked briskly back up the stairs, so she tried to engage him in some sort of conversation. “I understand you hail from Forda?”
He raised his eyebrows a little. “A
small village called Hamar
r, close to the border.”
That name tickled something in her memory, and she felt another headache coming on. Artemi gritted her teeth in spite of it.
“ButI have travelled all over since then,” he continued. “Are you alright?”
Searing daggers of pain seemed to penetrate every part of her skull. “Fine,” she managed to squeeze out between breaths.
Concern tinged his voice. “You do not look fine. You should rest. Come.” He led her into one of the nearby empty guest rooms and shut the door. Hegard led her to the window to observe her more closely.
“It’s nothing. Just -”
The man grabbed her throat and she felt fire course violently through her skin from
his hand. Immediately she reached out for The Blazes before he could get to them. But her headache had dulled her reactions, and he took hold of the fires first. None of her muscles would move to fight him. She was paralysed completely, she realised. Then he started to pull on something. It hurt so much it sent the pain from her head into a dull, background whine. It felt as if every organ in her body was being torn out, one by one, with his hands. Artemi wanted to scream, to cry, but she couldn’t even move her lungs to breathe or her mouth to make sound.
Calm. She had to stay calm. Morghiad had sensed her pain and was coming for her now, and she could feel his urgency. Hegard was a considerable-strength kanaala, but he did not match the kahr even closely. If she could
overpower Morghiad then this man shouldn’t be much trouble. She pushed her pain aside and poured all of her reserve and determination into taking control of The Blazes. His eyes widened at her force, and she pressed harder towards the flames. She urged, willed them to come to her. They seemed to be fading in intensity. Already her ability had been considerably depleted. The agony of having it ripped from her now came in a torrent she could not ignore. She fought back again. A trickle of energy came through, but Hegard stamped it down immediately. Morghiad was closer now. Artemi just needed to hold on, she needed to fight. Her vision started to blur, everything was going red. Something in her being fractured, and she realised with horror that she could no longer sense her own power.
He had sterilised her. The pain didn’t stop; Hegard kept pulling great strips of life from her mind. She could no longer hear anything but hiss; the world had gone a brilliant white. Artemi had to accept that she could not resist the fate he had in mind for her. Morghiad, she thought, would be very angry at her for this.
Morghiad caught hold of her before she hit the ground. His mind was hollow, devoid of
emotion. And devoid of her. He clamped his hand on the side of Artemi’s face. The blazes echoed from her skin as they did from clothes she’d worn or pages she’d touched, but there was nothing inside. Only a resonance. This body was now no more than a pretty shell. He set it down on the stone tiles, red-gold hair pooling about its head. “Beodrin, stay here with the rest of the men. No one is to enter this room. Silar, with me.”
The blond man’s eyes were glazed. He took a moment to register the order, turned to vomit in the corner and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before turning back to nod slowly. His mouth worked before he spoke. “I did not see this. I never saw this.”
At least Morghiad was thinking clearly. He needed that clarity now. Hegard could have done this independently, but it was Acher’s fault that snake of a man had been obliged to do it. It was Acher’s fault Hegard had been brought here in the first place. The king had taken everyone the kahr had cared about, every member of his family, every person he loved. Unconscious steps had brought him from the room where she’d been murdered and back to the vast marble corridors, where his feet thundered against the stone floor.
He clenched his jaw and let the heat of his fury fill every muscle and sinew of his body. Even the hallway air seemed to boil around him when it should have bitten in. He knew where to find the king, since every stationary guard who caught sight of his expression nodded to where they’d last seen him. They all knew what was about to happen, what had been inevitable
for so long now. The kahr found himself approaching the great Malachite Hall. Three of the guards he’d assigned to Artemi were standing at the door. Why were they here? Those men should have given their lives in protecting her! Morghiad pushed his angry curiosity aside. Their punishment would come later. He stood at the entrance, but said nothing. The stares of the soldiers floated over him and Silar as they opened the vast panels. Morghiad strode through and proceeded into the dull air beyond. It was especially dark and oppressive in the winter, and he could now feel the coldness of his sweat pressing against his skin. A crowd of nobles clustered around a central point: the throne. And on it would be King Acher.
Morghiad drew close enough to be
heard. “LEAVE.”
The noblemen and women turned around in shock, but slowly began to disperse. As far as they knew, he outranked every one of them. They revealed the guards circling the king, whose face was a picture of surprise. “What is the meaning of this?” he stuttered.
The kahr drew his bloodied sword. “Men, at ease.” Neleum and Laothoe were among them. Had the king purposefully taken them away from her? The soldiers immediately did as they were told, and went to man the numerous exits. “Before I finish your twisted and selfish excuse for a life, I want to know why.” Morghiad felt his voice crack, but he couldn’t control it.
Acher stood and drew his own sword. He would not be an insignificant challenge.
“You are too weak to kill me, boy.”
The kahr shook his head slowly. His anger surged; the black river of hate inside him was overflowing, seeping into his veins. “Why did you kill them all?”
A smile broke out across the bearded man’s face. He began to laugh. “You finally remember, then? Or did someone have to tell you about your pathetic little half-breed family? Why did I kill them? Because I could. I thought you might be useful, but you’re just as feeble as your father: a failure.”
Morghiad channelled all of his malice into his muscles; he fed off it hungrily. Calmly, he said, “I bet you hated that he was the one bedding my mother when you weren’t able. You are the failure: unable, even, to produce an heir of your own blood.”
Something flashed in Acher’s eyes. He growled, “You know nothing of Medea! She cared for me more deeply than you could comprehend.” He stepped towards Morghiad, lip curling. “Every night she spent with your father, she spent it thinking of me.”
“A woman cannot endure the company of a man she does not love. You should know that by now.” Acher stayed silent while Morghiad threw his sword to the other hand. “And why Artemi? She did nothing to harm you.” He wanted to mourn her now. He wanted to howl and tear down the entire building, but he had to hold it back just a moment longer.
Acher’s fierce growl broke into a smile again briefly, but it was weak. “I don’t like witches in my city, boy. She was a nothing, an
irritating little fly that needed swatting.” Distantly Morghiad heard several blades being drawn, but he only focussed on his next movements. In complete silence, he stepped once, twice and swung his weapon. The king ducked awkwardly but managed to block the strike. Pure fury erupted from the very depths of the kahr’s soul. It consumed him entirely; and he wanted to dispense with the sword entirely so that he could tear Acher’s head off with his bare hands. The king was a strong fighter, but it took only three fast strikes before the man was weaponless. Morghiad thrust his elbow into the king’s face, sending him sprawling into the marble beneath. He didn’t even think about the final blow; it just came as part of a string of movements fed by his emotions. Acher’s head rolled away from
the platform, still grinning inanely. The kahr drank his vengeance deeply. It felt... hollow. Silar approached to inspect the body of the former ruler. He knew better than to say anything.
“Is Artemi...?” Neleum’s voice echoed through the hall. “Is she really... ?”
Morghiad felt his legs weaken. He slumped int
o the nearby throne, unable to stand any longer. She wasn’t there in his head: none of her fire-bound emotions, only a cold vacuum left by her flame. He wanted to answer Neleum’s question, to say the words. But he could not bring himselfto do it. The kahr buried his face in his hands. All ofhis plans had been for nothing, and Calidell would fall without her to rule it.
Nestled deeply amongst a crowd of green-stone buildings lay a dark urchin of a castle, its spine-like towers clawing at the sky for escape. Darkness pervaded this fortress in both aspect and mood, but from the dim passages strode a giant of a man. His grim face was a cut square of granite and his eyes appeared made of glass. He was a man in reflection, for he considered the words spoken to him by a famous warrior many years previously, “We are all fires in a gale: some of us are quickly snuffed out; others are temporarily fuelled by the torrent of air. And the rest? Well, they are the ones that are blown from one place to another. They are the ones that never go out.” Koviere smiled to himself, and took a deep breath of the air that fed him.
THE END
.....
of
.....
Volume 1 of The Fireblade Array
..........
by
H.O. Charles
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 42
