He stood with her and rolled up the rebels’ war plans with his gloved hands. “I must take these back to Cadra with me. Keep the list of names safe for now.”
Artemi stiffened. “They must go directly to the king. You can trust no one else with this.” She had few concrete reasons to trust this man. What had gotten into her?
“You have my word,” he said solemnly.
It was no good. She desperately wanted to trust him, she realised. He turned to wrap the scroll up in one of the saddle bags, which allowed Artemi to freely appraise his fine body. He was dressed in the simple clothes of a villager, but anyone who glanced at his blade or noted his arrogant posture would know there was more to him. His build spoke of strength and endurance gained through years of sword fighting. But then, one had to be accomplished in the skill to become a lieutenant of Calidell. When he turned back to her she tried to assess his age. Guessing such things
was an art in itself, but his eyes looked fairly young - probably under a hundred.
“Are you any good with that thing?” She flicked her eyes to the hilt at his shoulder.
He smiled slowly. “You want a demonstration? I’d be happy to oblige, my lady.” Clearly he thought that riling her with salutations like that would make for a good fight.
But Artemi had heard them all before. Usually the teases were about her being a woman, undersized, weak and red-haired, but at least this man had humoured her with a marginally more intelligent insult. She shouted, “Draw!” and pulled out her own, gently curved blade.
He was probably a fair bit stronger than she, but most likely he would
underestimate her strength as everyone else did. The lieutenant leapt forward with startling speed, sword flashing in the muted daylight, and in what little time she had, Artemi moved slightly to the left to parry. Blazes alight, he was fast for his size! He moved to strike again, but this time she anticipated it with a rapid swipe of her own.
They met each other’s attacks bladefor-blade through the next few minutes, until Artemi found herselfbacking into a tree. Why had she not seen that? Her tutors had always encouraged her to make use of any part of the environment, so that was what she would have to do here. When she next hit his blade, she used it as an initial push to lift her feet from the ground, twisted her body, ran up the trunk of the tree and vaulted over his head. While in the
air, he raised his sword to catch her. Artemi reacted quickly, and used her cross-guard to trap the point. It allowed her to drag down his blade as she landed, but sent her off-balance as soon as he withdrew it.
They fought on until the daylight had faded to a heavy purple-grey, neither one gaining a particular advantage. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to finish the duel.
“Enough!” she called. Her opponent immediately lowered his blade. He still appeared to have enough energy to battle through the week! Artemi was exhausted! No one had ever presented such a challenge since she’d been a young hare of a girl.
With some considerable horror, she realised she was coated in mud, leaves and a great deal of sweat. “I would love to continue,
only my father and Sindra will start wondering where I am.” The words came out a little more breathlessly than she would have liked.
The man merely nodded in approval. “You’d be a better fighter if you paid more attention to the world around you.”
Perhaps his advice was based on sound experience, but she had not asked for it! And who was he to presume she had been gazing at nothing but him, anyway? It was his own fault for looking that way! Artemi was beginning to fume again. “And you’d be a better fighter if you spent less time charming women!” She immediately regretted the words, but held her chin high in spite of it.
He frowned. “I think you may have me confused with s-”
“It doesn’t matter. I must go. Take
care of that document for me.” With that she spun and strode into the twilight forests. She would need a good drink with the guards after this. At least they were all as ugly as lumpy,
Tyshar pawed gently at the ground as his master pulled the stirrups down from the saddle. Morghiad felt invigorated by the exercise. Challenges like her rarely crossed his path these days, and he knew very well he
wasn’t supposed to have visited her yet, but state security had demanded it. He climbed onto the smooth, black leather saddle and kicked the warhorse into a contained trot. None of his memories of her had come close to describing her beauty.
Her immaturity was marked now that he had a few more years of his own, though he knew another year closer to her previous lives would correct that imbalance. An age difference of a few tens of years was a blade of grass against a field of several thousand. He certainly had not expected to lose his heart to her again so quickly, but in a moment she had reclaimed it from him, stamped on it a few times, fuelled it and then locked it in her keep. That was a fool thought, he realised. Artemi had always possessed him - something which
several kahrissa and a number of ambitious noblewomen had been forced to recognise. The tree line began to thin out as he reached a worn, muddy track-way. Morghiad was somewhat annoyed that his attempts to protect her had only served to make him a figure to be despised. If anything, her apparent abhorrence of him made her spirit all the more apparent. He had missed that fire terribly through every trial he had faced, every battle he had marched to. And he had savoured every instance where her hair had fizzled against his skin during their fight. It had taken substantial effort not to take hold of her and kiss the woman until she was his again. The king reined his horse to a halt and listened for followers. The sparse woodland was quiet, save for a few birds emitting their night song, and nothing
moved in the trees. He kicked Tyshar forward into a loping canter.
Bracon’s plans were very worrying indeed. How long had he been working towards this? And why hadn’t Silar sniffed this out yet? Lord Veradlin was friendly enough to be aware that Silar was essentially a spymaster, but surely that hadn’t made the schemer invisible? Even Artemi, secluded in this estate, had stumbled upon the plot somehow. Morghiad knew that, of all men, his general could be trusted.
Silar would never allow harm to come to Artemi, and consequently would not risk the position of her main protector. Therefore, there was either something amiss in Silar’s network, or these nobles had been cannier than he had anticipated. He recalled one line from the
declaration, “...oust the unlawful kahr who dares to call himself king; execute his witches, and subject him to torture for a duration matching his unlicensed reign.”
Eighteen years of torture did not sound especially pleasant. Tyshar charged forward into the dark shadows of the Cordinh forest, as keen to do battle as his rider.
Dark golden curls bounced around the young lady’s elfin features as she laughed with music in her voice, “I cannot seem to outmanoeuvre you, Lord Forllan.” Lady Djuran was very pretty by anyone’s measure, but she wasn’t much of a challenge when it came to games requiring a little wit. She put down her large hand of cards. It was full of farm and smithying tools.
Silar set his own collection down: a straight row of swords and wielder fire. “No indeed, my lady. Perhaps you need a little more schooling in the game.”
She grinned and moved to kiss him, which he allowed. He found it deeply unsatisfying though. It was never what he hoped it to be - like being presented with a sumptuous meal that, upon tasting, turned out to be made of soil. At least Morghiad could understand his impotence, though he was too tightly bound to Artemi to go near another woman even for sport. The door swung open, interrupting the couple’s embrace.
At the entrance stood the king. His features were as stern and hard as a cliffface. “I need to speak with you alone, general.”
Silar nodded and clasped Lady
Djuran’s hand as she stood to leave. She bowed neatly before Morghiad and then stepped noisily down the hallway. The king closed the door behind her with one hand, while the other held a cru
mpled roll of parchment. He regarded Silar levelly. “I thought you loved Artemi.”
Follocks! “Artemi did not love me. Nor was I party to her kisses or anything more. So forgive me ifI try to find a little entertainment in her absence.”
Morghiad looked almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” That was a rare set of words to hear from him!
“No.” Silar paced across to one of the windows. “None of them stir anything in me. Or of me, for that matter. It’s like having a sword made of paper.” He hated the way
she’d changed everything around in his head. He almost hated her. “Why did you even ask me that? And what is it you wish to discuss?”
The king took Djuran’s chair and unfurled the parchment on the card table. “I’m not sure whomI trust anymore. This was recently brought to my attention.” He pushed the document in the general’s direction.
Silar sat down to read it. The first few lines consisted of some dross about making promises or doing the lawful and correct thing for the country. The next lines were quite different, however. “Wilrean army?” he said aloud.
“Read on,” Morghiad grunted.
When Silar had finished he sat back in his chair. “Bracon masterminded this?”
Morghiad nodded. “It was retrieved
from his house.”
How had he not intercepted such plans before now? How had he not seen it, or hints of it, in his visions? This was almost as bad as his blindness to Artemi’s execution. “I thought Veradlin was a good man. He supported you from the start.”
“He has made fools ofall ofus.”
Silar’s mind began to race through the possibilities. “Do you know who else is involved?”
The king crossed his stretched-out legs. “I have seen a list of names. It is being kept safe for now, butI can recall some of the more memorable ones. Cremast and di Certa are among the hundred.”
“Hundred?!” Silar almost fell out of his chair. A hundred notables? They might as well
capitulate and go into hiding right now. Morghiad had made life difficult for some of the richer ones, but he wasn’t that unpopular.
The king remained calm. “We cannot be sure if that list contains signatories or intended converts. But we can be sure that Veradlin has seen something in them to desire their recruitment. And they are not all powerful people.”
Silar needed to pace again. “We must find out where they’re meeting. Or how they’re corresponding. Someone has corrupted my network and I do not like that at all. I need those names, Morghiad. And I need to know where the weak points are.”
Morghiad nodded. “I will ride for the list tomorrow. I believe I can find out where their next meeting will be held. No one is to
accompany me and, as far as everyone else
needs to know, I’ve taken some leave in the
southern
falls.”
“Who is your source?”
“That is not important.”
“Yes, it is. There’d have to be a good reason why you’d keep it hidden from me.”
Morghiad went quiet.
The general thought for a moment. There was only one person he ever behaved this oddly over, but how could she have become involved? And why would he knowingly risk her life by visiting her? “I see she has found her way back into all of our lives, then.”
The king met his eyes sharply. “She never left. And we crossed paths by accident, before you unleash your accusations.”
“Does she look the same? Is she the same?”
Morghiad smiled. “Yes. Perhaps a little more adventurous, and stubborn. I think we have spoiled her.”
Silar allowed a small chuckle to escape. “Will you... bring her back here?”
“Not yet. She’s safer where she is. Assuming she doesn’t go raiding any more of the Great Houses.”
Silar could not hide his disappointment very well. The last time he had seen her was when Toryn had brought a wriggling bundle of arms and legs into the offices. Of course, she had screamed and yelled when Silar had tried to hold her, but had immediately fallen into a tranquil sleep when Morghiad took her off him. Artemi had looked impossibly tiny in the king’s arms, he remembered. Did everyone start out that small? “Will you give the lady my regards, then?”
The king nodded and rolled up the parchment again. This was going to be a nasty mess to clean up, and Silar had no idea where to start.
Wan spring sunlight crept into the whitewashed hallways, illuminating the backs of the two tall men as they exchanged jokes. Aval knew they would not be smiling for much
longer. She was very glad to have finally been allowed to return to court, and quite dismayed to see how dramatically it had been altered. The king rarely offered his patronage or monopolies unless a nobleman could prove he was serving his community in some overly charitable manner. It was disgusting, and would have to be rectified as soon as she had a hand in government.
Morghiad had failed monumentally to appease her grandfather and his many powerful friends. He would soon learn the folly of his actions. Aval kicked at her skirts while she walked, occasionally glancing at the paintings of landscapes and legendary cities. She stopped before an image of Gialdin.
It looked to have been a beautiful place, full of grand spires, flying arches and
impossible waterfalls. It made sense that a man with Morghiad’s looks had come from there, and several landless Gialdinian nobles had confirmed he resembled members of the Jade’an family, though Aval still found it hard to believe.
Her dislike for his policies and cruelties to her had not made him any less desirable, however. If anything, two decades had cut his excellent features into something stronger and more masculine.
Lord di Certa had promised that she could have him once he had been deposed. The poor king would need the comforts of a woman after each day of torture, and she alone had the abilities to make him forget about his dead witch. Then, if she was lucky, she would bear his children and they would take the
throne. Aval giggled quietly to herself at the idea of taming the king for her own satisfaction. Even the greatest warriors, schemers and rulers could be subdued with the correct handling.
Artemi slammed her tankard down in frustration, causing Neleum to jump. The man was practically blue from all the tattoos he had acquired over the years. “Why should I marry him if I don’t love him?” she exclaimed.
Her father rolled his eyes - they’d had this conversation many times before. “If you
meet him and decide you really don’t want to then you don’t have to. But for now your betrothal guarantees your safety, your brother’s safety and everyone else’s in this house. It keeps him from straying, too.”
“Oh, come on, father! As if that would stop a king from taking whatever mistresses he likes.” She was faintly aware of Neleum coughing at the far end of the table.
Sindra soon joined them for the meal, and put a hand on her exasperated husband’s arm. “Artemi, you may find you like him. Have you considered that?”
“I’ve seen the King of Hirrah: obese. I saw the King of Wilrea: face like a rotted tree stump. And as for the King of Orta... I have yet to see a painting of any royal man that doesn’t make me want to wash my brain through with
bleach!” How could any queen have shared a bed with those specimens of hideousness? Two more guards accompanied Caala to their seats. Artemi was glad her entire household ate together, unlike the other so-called elites. She had met several of those ‘noble’ offspring during her sword training, and they had found each other mutually odd.
“It is unfair to pre-judge him, Artemi,” Sindra said, “And you may be pleasantly surprised.”
Her father grunted. He never really liked speaking of King Morghiad on a personal level. Actually, everyone there seemed to avoid the subject, as if they were having a colossal private joke at her expense.
Silar came bounding up to the table with a miniature crossbow in one hand and a
fair amount of m
ud on his otherwise innocent face.
“As bad as your sister,” Caala muttered under her breath.
Artemi grabbed him and squeezed him tightly before he could sit down.
He giggled and squirmed. “Get off!”
She acquiesced, but gave his pale hair a ruffling for good measure. It seemed unfair that she would have to leave Corlands in a few years. She had enjoyed a happy childhood here, but that had more to do with the people and the setting than the interference of any blazed king. “Did you catch anything today, Si?”
The boy shook his head. “Can you come with me next time?”
“Of course.”
Silar was still too young to track hares quietly, but could sit still enough if he’d been carried. “Temi?” He poked at his food absently.
“Yes.”
He stuffed a forkful of cabbage into his mouth, but remembered to finish eating it before speaking. “Who was that man you were in the woods with a few days ago?”
Artemi felt every eye at the table bearing down upon her. She couldn’t prevent her cheeks from flushing terribly in response.
“Well?” her father pressed.
“He was just a farmer.” She desperately hoped the lie hadn’t been obvious.
Silar’s tanned brow furrowed. “But he was very tall.”
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 45
