The woodland around Hafendh was ancient, moss-covered and filled with the shoots of eager blue-tears. Morghiad was glad for its cover at this time of year, as he had become far too recognisable for his own good. He folded up the aged map and tucked it into one of Tyshar’s saddle bags. A heavy rain storm was approaching, and he needed to find somewhere dry before it struck.
He began to walk the animal to a darker clump of trees, when he felt something irregular move in the air. Whatever it was lay
downwind of him, and had enjoyed the advantage of a subtle approach. Morghiad reached for his blade and spun to face his hunter.
Amber-coloured hair cascaded over her shoulders and blew wildly across her breasts. She smiled mischievously. “I think we are equals at this game now, don’t you?” Her dark brown eyes pulled at his very soul. It was not a good thing that she was here. Not good at all.
“I told you not to leave Corlands!” He tried as best he could to sound fierce, and at least managed to convey some anger in his voice.
Artemi laughed. “You do not rule me, my lord.”
Morghiad raised an eyebrow. “It seems not. You shouldn’t have followed me.”
“I’m still not entirely sure I trust you. Someone has to have an eye on this country’s well-being.” She smoothed down the hip of her fitted, earth-coloured breeches.
His jaw clenched tightly. He should have faced her wrath from the start and been open about his identity. Still, he counted being called ‘pretty’ as a minor victory against her opinions of him. Damn her for inviting him to kiss her! And damn her flaming hair! It was all very well being in love with the memory of a woman, but loving a woman without her memories was simply torture.
He could not send her away unaccompanied now that she was in the midst of rebels. “Fine. Come with me before we get rained on.” ...and before she would be forced
to remove her sodden clothes in some sort of tormentous display of her impossible, untouchable body. It had taken him a day to regain any kind of relaxed dignity following that kiss. An entire day!
He allowed himselfto tread heavily on the old woodland growth, crushing a few bluetears as he went.
“No wonder you were so easy to track, leaving a trail like that!” she teased.
Morghiad only growled quietly in response. Had there really been a time when he could rein his most extreme emotions in? He shook his head and cast his mind to the evening’s work. Artemi would be an inseparable accomplice, but at least he could keep an eye on her that way. They would have to enter the town after sunset, and make sure
they remained entirely unseen. Some roof walking would be necessary.
Above him, the clouds rumbled. “Hurry up, D’Avrohan!” he shouted.
There was no response.
He glanced behind, only to find that she was gone. Perhaps he had finally gone mad through obsession, imagining her to be there when she was not. A sound to his right caught his attention. No, more likely she had decided to behave like a child. He chose to ignore it. If she was in trouble, she could scream for him to come to her aid. Until then, he was going to hunker down under this fine set of evergreen trees and sit through the storm.
Morghiad hitched his mount to an especially broad tree and propped himself against the trunk. The moment his back hit the
bark, a tumult of water plummeted from the skies above. He closed his eyes and listened to the calming sound of the rain on the plants around him. It was a beautiful, even sound punctuated only by occasional, distant thunder.
An hour had passed. Artemi had not returned. Worry began to seep into his thoughts much like the rain had soaked through his partial shelter. He snapped open his eyes. Water still cascaded through the now grey, but empty, woodland, and he stood to look around the trees. There was no sign of her. “Artemi!” he called. Only the noise of the deluge responded.
“Bloody woman,” he muttered as he climbed on Tyshar. He had picked up some bad habits from Silar over the years, but the words seemed apt in this situation. He rode into the downpour, and searched for any movement or shadow. Finding the immediate area empty, he continued his sweep at the last place he had heard her. The woodland dropped into a highsided ravine, heavily covered in undergrowth.
“D’Avrohan!” He didn’t want the more recognisable name echoing into the next country. There was no response. His worry began to grow into serious concern. He scanned the scrub for any signs of her movement through it. Several yards ahead, a single hoof print indicated someone’s horse had recently passed through, but its owner had been skilful in preventing the surrounding growth from breakage. It was good enough to be Artemi’s work.
Morghiad followed a likely route down the side of the ravine until he reached a forked
ledge. He was by now completely soaked through by the rain, but was too tense to care. He dismounted and led Tyshar up the higher route, but it led only to a series of dead bushes and a dead end. He had chosen incorrectly. Morghiad tore off his waterlogged cloak and threw it over the saddle.
“D’Avrohan!”
Nothing.
He trotted back down to the lower ledge, this time leaving Tyshar so that he could move faster. He broke into a sprint and charged along the steep limits of the gorge, all the time looking for any sign of her red-gold hair. This was infuriating! He could run about these woods for a month and not find her. Morghiad stopped to collect his thoughts, and found that he could still sense her stream of
Blaze Energy amidst the others in the world, which meant she was alive. Then, his eyes fell upon an anomaly in the cliffface ahead of him. He approached it, and discovered that it was the opening to a cave.
Inside, perfectly dry, sat a smiling Artemi before her horse. “Trees are never that good in rain like this,” she said.
“I was worried about you!” Morghiad immediately turned and left, deciding to vent his anger along the walk back to Tyshar. If the fires of Achellon were ever able to consider their effect on the world, then clearly they had thought to torment him with this woman!
He swept his sword at a few deserving shrubs, imagining them to be the cause of his mood. He then pulled a twitchy horse back to the cave and briefly sat in a puddle, before he
tore off his wet clothing. And, as if he wasn’t already embarrassed enough, Artemi made a point of staring at him while he undressed. He frowned at her in an effort to make her look away, but she only did so when he made a start on his trousers. Morghiad sullenly placed his elbows on his bare knees, and watched the rain fall outside.
“Are Calidellian soldiers all so comfortable without clothes?” she asked, still looking away.
“Only when necessity demands it,” he replied. Now would be a wonderful time to declare he was King of Calidell. He was probably the most lacklustre king the country had ever the misfortune to be ruled by. He realised that the sigil of House Sete’an on his shoulder blade would be quite visible to her if
she looked his way, and swiftly moved to lie on his back. The cave ceiling was covered in odd artwork: finger paintings, stylised drawings of people and animals. As with all things historical, he tried to spot a woman with reddish hair. None were evident.
“How did you get that scar?” She was leaning toward him, looking pointedly at his ribs.
He gazed down to try and work out which one she meant. “The most recent one?” It was still quite dark and prominent.
She smiled. “No, the longest one. Here.” She came worryingly close to touching him, but did not.
“I was shaving.” He remained stonyfaced.
Artemi gave him one of her intense
stares, but he could see the hint of a smile on her lips.
“It was given to me by an eisiel that visited the castle some time ago.” He could still remember its black, shining teeth.
“Who was its target?”
Morghiad had to be very careful to describe the rest without lying or revealing too much. “You. You seem to attract them. Toryn had brought you to Cadra as an infan
t. It was before the king sent you to Corlands.”
She contemplated the floor. “Then you received your injury saving my life.”
“It has always been my duty to watch over you, Artemi.”
Abruptly the rain outside stopped. It would be time to investigate Hafendh soon.
“Thank you,” she said. A beautiful
smile enveloped her features.
Morghiad looked away before he became ensnared by it. He had work to do. “I need you to help me dry these clothes,” he said.
Artemi nodded and held out her hand. “Take what you need, hero.”
Morghiad wrapped his fingers around hers and dove headlong into The Blazes within her. Their fire felt incredible. He had trained with other wielders since Artemi, but none had ever tasted the same, and none came close to matching her power. He tried not to spend too long revelling in the sensation, and instead concentrated on forming a shield of heat. The Energy vibrated and pulsed rhythmically along the floor of the cave, causing the water in his clothes to rise as steam. It was a matter of
seconds before he could sense through her that they were dry, and he let go. The loss of her power felt just as gut-wrenching as he remembered it.
Artemi rose and went to stand outside the cave while he dressed, which at least granted him a little privacy. Once decent, he strode out of the cave and hauled on his newly warmed coat. He was glad for the seclusion of the woods as, to any prying eyes, their shelter would have looked very suspicious indeed. “That reminds me,” he said aloud, “General Forllan asked me to pass his best wishes to you.”
She looked at him in surprise. “He knows? I thought you wouldn’t tell anyone this had anything to do with me.”
“I didn’t. Initially. He has a knack for
extracting these things from people.”
Artemi hopped onto her horse with grace. “Then the king will know, too.”
“He does,” Morghiad almost winced.
“Was he angry with me?”
He smiled. “A little. I think he is past it now.”
Artemi’s brow remained furrowed as they kicked the horses on. “I don’t want my father to find out.”
“Believe me, that is in both our interests. He’ll have my head, along with everything else if he thinks I’ve tampered with his daughter.”
She loosened her expression. “But you haven’t. Well, not intentionally, anyway. I can simply tell him that.”
“That is very kind of you. But I know
Toryn, and Toryn... he and I have never quite... ah... it doesn’t matter.” He always acted with fault in Toryn’s eyes. Her father would have preferred it if Artemi had fallen for Silar - that much had been made clear.
“Did you do something to upset him?”
He sighed with some annoyance. “Several things. Principally, I failed to look after something of his.” The guilt of it still ate at him.
“But you saved me. Surely that counts in your favour?”
Morghiad smiled at her handsome face. “It isn’t something you can keep scores on.” Never mind the expense of searching for her, retrieving her from the Tedarahan brothel, housing her and protecting her. Not that he wouldn’t have done those things in Toryn’s absence, but it would have been easier if the
older man had been a little more gracious. And then there was the matter of the betrothal. That had been Toryn’s request: to keep Morghiad ‘out of trouble’. As if any other woman could ever have compared.
They trotted in silence together through the darkened woodland, until they neared the soft glow of Hafendh’s street lamps. “You’d better cover yourselfup,” he said, donning his own head scarf. She followed his instruction, tied up her waves of red-gold hair and hid her face behind the black fabric.
They left the horses to run in an empty field and sprinted to the town limits. Morghiad knew that The Hall was in the southern portion of the centre, and that approaching from the southwest would give them the best route in. He boosted Artemi onto the sloping eaves of a
nearby house, and clambered up himself.
Artemi bounded on ahead of him across the thatched roofs without making a sound. The girl was very spry. In a somewhat clumsier fashion, he leapt on behind her, trying to keep pace and silence. He caught up with her atop a high, public building and crouched next to her. One of her gloved fingers pointed at the street below, where three well-dressed men ambled and chatted.
Bracon was immediately recognisable among them – a man with whom Morghiad had shared many an ale. The man’s close-cropped hair and tidy appearance spoke of reliability gained through years of honourable toil, misleading as it was. Another man was the moderately rotund Gadlond di Certa, and Morghiad was not surprised to see him there at all.
The third man’s identity was harder to guess at - possibly Lord Lenvin. The Hall was only three more buildings away. Taking the lead this time, Morghiad jumped the increasing distances between the gables. With each leap, he turned back to check that Artemi had made the crossing, and each time he was sure she scowled back at him through her mask.
The Main Hall roof was covered in curious grey tiles that were very difficult to move quietly across. There were several peaks, but no domes, light wells or skylights, which meant they would have to find another way to witness the spectacle. Artemi was already checking the far edge for some sort of ingress, and Morghiad began to scan his own side. As he moved to lean over the gutter, a train of
attendees came in to view. He swiftly ducked out of sight behind a chimney.
From his new position, he could see that Artemi had flattened herself against the roof like a shadow. The curve of her bottom against the clouded night sky made him swallow as if he were an overly earnest teenager again, but he tore his eyes away to peer at the meeting party below. None of them had made any attempt at a disguise. How was it possible that tens of nobles and notables meeting in nondescript towns across the country had bypassed Silar’s network entirely?
From the group he could just hear scattered words like wielder, king and his own name. While he had been watching the people below, Artemi had slithered over to him.
“There will be a party in the principal
chamber in the building. The meeting we’re interested in will be in a room to the side somewhere,” she whispered. He could smell the scent of her skin when she was this close.
He kept his voice as quiet as he could. “That is how they cover their meetings?”
“It is Hafendh’s Founding Day festival. Didn’t you see the posters?”
Of course, he had been so distracted by her athletic display that he had missed them entirely. She really should not have been there. “Have you found a way in?”
She paused. “There’s a grating under the eaves on the other side, but it’s too small for a lump like you. I reckonI could get through though.”
“I need to see this meeting for myself, Artemi. We’ll have to try something else.”
Once the next group of people had filtered through the large doors, Morghiad set about finding a way in. Almost immediately he found a large window which, upon testing, was locked tight. It would require a great deal of noisy smashing to gain entry.
“I’ll get it open for you.” Artemi spun round and leapt in the direction of the other end of the roof, but Morghiad caught her by one of her sword straps.
“It’s not safe. I cannot let you go in there unaccompanied.”
She pushed his hand away. “How else will you get in? Is walking through walls another one of your talents?”
It was irritating, but she was right. They could not risk melting a hole in the roof using Blaze Energy when there might be kanaala
about. “Fine. But don’t do anything heroic,” he growled.
He could see her dark eyes smiling through the narrow gap in the head scarf. Morghiad sighed quietly and followed her to the grate, where she vaulted onto the wall below to remove the iron covering. Within a matter of seconds, she had handed it to him, and wa
s squeezing her way into the building. It was quite a tight fit, even for her.
When she was through, he hooked his toes around a ridge in the tiling and dangled over the grating entrance, where he re-affixed the heavy lid. After that, he returned to the large window on the other side of the building to wait.
Morghiad counted through an agonising six minutes before she appeared at the window. It took her a moment to unbolt it, but before long he was standing next to her in a darkened room.
“I think they’re in a room on the floor below,” she whispered. Had she taken an entire tour of the building while he’d been waiting?
Morghiad followed her into the hallway, and almost tripped over the body of a guard. “Artemi!”
“He was in my way. I didn’t kill him. Well, I suppose we had better tie him up though,” she said with resignation. The woman was out of control! He would have to have some stern words with Toryn about her behaviour.
They used the incapacitated man’s own clothing to bind him and shut him in the empty
room, and Morghiad took the lead in stealthily descending the broad steps to the next level. They were soon met by an empty hallway. The noise of excited chatter filled the corridor as two large doors opened at the opposite end, and Morghiad grabbed Artemi to pull her into an alcove.
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 47
