“It wasn’t quite a lie, was it? We must all have our secrets, otherwise there would be
nothing of interest, no mysteries to solve. I do not believe he would have done it at your expense. Besides, you are not to worry about our stay in Corlands. Your father and I have always been aware that it was a gift granted to us, and we were more than capable of supporting ourselves before. It was not your responsibility to keep us homed.”
Artemi stabbed her sword into a gap between the floorboards, prompting a frown from Sindra, and sat in the velvet-lined armchair. “Why did he even decide I was to be his whenI was just a baby? I still don’t understand what he could want me for. It provides no political alliance or financial advantage. It certainly cannot be love.”
Her stepmother drew her mouth tight and sighed through her nose. “You will have to
ask him that.” A smile grew on her face. “Perhaps he knew that you would grow into a great beauty.”
Artemi rolled her dark eyes and pulled a face. On a good day, she could expect to be about as handsome as Neleum’s hairy backside.
Another knock sounded at the door, and this time Artemi went to open it. Her father stood at the entrance, looking only moderately grim. He had refused to remonstrate with her over her dishonesty, instead lamenting that he’d failed to account for her ‘spiritedness’ as a father. Men were incredibly infuriating, even the ones she was related to.
He was holding a letter in his right hand; it was sealed with an image of crossed daggers and a flame. “MayI come in?” he
asked firmly.
Artemi stepped back and held the door open, and he paced in with shoulders of rock. He took a seat next to Sindra and unfolded the letter. Morghiad’s loose, flowing script was just visible inside, and the sight of it made Artemi feel unwell.
Her father began, “Toryn, I cannot hope to disguise the difficulty of this current situation from you, the few who know of it here and even myself. The fault lies entirely at my feet and for that reasonI must ensure that whatever amends can be made are performed in the correct manner.
“To that end, I formally release Artemi of her betrothal to me. She has no more obligation to me than any free woman of this world ought to have. My commitment to her
welfare will endure regardless. You and your family may remain at Corlands for as long as you wish, and I will continue to meet the expense of any requirements you have.
“I must insist, however, that the guards continue to work at their current posts. Artemi’s safety is of paramount importance to me, and though she is granted whatever freedoms she desires, I would ask her to be vigilant. I think you will agree that sometimes she is too free with her trust.
“As ever, all of you are welcome at Cadra at any time you care to visit. If you require anything from me, you need only ask and I will do my very best to provide it. Yours – et cetera – Morghiad.” Her father lowered the letter and locked eyes with his daughter. “And so you have your emancipation.”
Artemi was stunned. All emotion had drained from her body. “I’m too free with my trust?!” was all she could say.
Sindra appeared puzzled. “The king says you are free to roam the country and that you no longer have to marry him. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yes. But I... how dare he say that when I trusted him!”
Her father looked to the ceiling briefly. “I think you need to look past that minor remark, although perhaps he has a point. In any case, he has extended some considerable generosity to you; the previous king would probably have chopped off your pretty head!”
Artemi screwed up her nose. “Perhaps. I am glad that we can remain here, unless he changes that moth-brain mind of his.”
“You can say a great many things about Morghiad, girl, but he is not an idiot. And he does not change his mind on wild impulses,” her father acknowledged. He refolded the letter. “I will leave this with you. Try not to tear it or burn it too much, as it is a written record of his promise. Anyway, as Corlands remains in our control, I had better go about managing its farms. Oh, one other thing before I go - Sindra and I were thinking of taking a trip to the Gialdin shores in a few days. Would you like to join us?”
Artemi thought of the vast, blue oceans she’d read about and how she longed to see them. But now was not the right time, and she shook her head. “Someone should mind business here. I would like to stay near the woods if I can.”
Her father nodded. “And if you plan to go on an outing, please tell one of the men where you’ve hared off to. Better still, take one with you!”
She smiled broadly. “Only if they can keep up, father.”
He made a weary grunt and took the hand of his wife. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
The door thumped shut behind them, and Artemi’s eyes immediately darted to the letter on the bed. She went to pick it up and tentatively unfolded it, as if the man himself might jump out. It didn’t smell much of him, she considered. Not that she ever wanted to encounter his irksome scent ever again. She reread the letter carefully, as if searching for some hidden meaning inside his words.
The letter was very neatly composed
indeed, and hinted at his military-like obsession for cleanliness. Artemi smiled; it was quite dissimilar to her efforts, which so frequently contained crossings-out and arachnid scrawling. They probably wouldn’t have gotten along all that well after a year or so, anyway. True, he was very handsome indeed with that dark hair she wanted to tear her fingers through and eyes that shone as green as forest leaves, but prettiness was only novel for a while. Better to have an ugly man who was honest about everything.
Artemi stretched out on the bed and thought of what to do with her new life, and the panoply of opportunities overwhelmed her.
Four days passed, during which time Artemi re-arranged her room several times, organised her father’s accounts, visited the
poorer farmers working around Corlands and went hunting. Having finished their latest trip, she and Cydia found themselves striding noisily through the oak and ash trees of the southern portion of the estate. He was surprisingly good at keeping his various piercings quiet when he needed to, but then he had been the one to teach her about stalking prey.
“When are you going to Cadra?” he asked for the fourteenth time.
Artemi felt a strong urge to yank at one of those gold earrings of his. “There is nothing there for me, nothing but a court full of lackeying nobles and subdued servants.”
Cydia hitched up his small herd of caught rabbits. “My lady, there is everything for you there. This was your childhood, and now it is done. The army could do with a fighter like
you, if nothing else.”
She definitely wanted to pull out some of those bits of metal; perhaps his moustache, too. “Why would I fight for him?”
“I thought that was what you did in your mischief, without us knowing?”
Artemi kicked at the dirt in front of her. “I’m sorry, Cydia. I don’t like being kept like a breeding mare in a pen.”
The soldier gritted his teeth. “Artemi, he put you here to protect you. And he did it because he loves you, even a stubborn, firehaired fool like you could see that.”
She almost laughed aloud. “How can a man love me if he’s never even met me?”
Cydia furrowed his brow. “You odd Blaze people see things in the world that the rest of us do not. He probably just knew it; the
same way you know you should care for your father, or that the sword you hold was made for you.”
The guard did talk some offal, at times. At least he wasn’t philosophising about female warriors!
They trod across the old leaves in silence for the next few minutes, when something fast-moving crossed Artemi’s vision. She grabbed Cydia’s arm and squatted behind the low shrubs with him, peering through the trees. Beyond the edge of the woodland, a crowd of black and green soldiers surrounded Corlands’ house. “Do you know anything about this?” she asked him.
“No.
And those are not Calidellian soldiers.” Cydia bared his teeth and withdrew his sword.
For once Artemi was glad that her family had left without her on their holiday. Together, she and Cydia crept forward through the thick undergrowth until their view was much-improved. The false soldiers trod around the perimeter of the building on horseback, clearly looking for something.
“I need to get you out of here, girl,” the soldier said in low tones.
Artemi pulled her braid back over her shoulder. “Wait!”
One of the intruders stepped out of the kitchen door with a writhing prisoner. It was Laothoe. His long hair was slicked to his coppery skin with blood, and his shirt was torn open. A tall, brown-haired man came to address him. “Where’s the girl?” echoed across the open field.
She immediately recognised the voice as Febain Reduvi’s. Laothoe spat at his captor, who responded by kicking him to the ground. Three more of her house guards were lined up, bruised and bloody, before the false soldiers. Artemi felt Cydia’s tough hand wrap around her arm. “Time to go, girl.”
“What? They need our help. We cannot leave them to that man,” she hissed, trying to pull her arm free.
“They will do their duty, Artemi,” he whispered. “We need to make sure you are safe. Come.”
She pushed his hand roughly from her arm. “No. IfReduvi can’t find me he’ll simply kill them. I’m not leaving them to be murdered!”
“You have to. And I have to get you
away from trouble.” Cydia’s eyes narrowed and he clasped her more tightly by the arm.
Artemi knew she had no choice but to throw him off. In one smooth movement, she kicked at the back of his knee and withdrew her blade. His eyes widened in surprise at her aggression, but he reacted quickly enough to bring the butt of his sword close to her head. She ducked and took advantage of his weakened balance, landing a blow of her own at his temple. His gold earrings jangled as his head hit the root-filled earth.
“Sorry,” she whispered to the unconscious guard. Carefully, she dragged him to a nearby tree and set about tying his limp arms around it. Next, she covered his body in several broad and full-leaf branches to disguise him. Artemi trotted around the perimeter of the woods for a short while, and then walked into the open land that bordered the house. She managed to come surprisingly close to the intruders before they noticed her, at which point she withdrew her sword and spoke, “My life for theirs. You allow the members of this household to walk free and you can have me.”
Two of the soldiers smirked and approached with blades raised. Artemi gritted her teeth. If they wanted a fight, then that was what they would have. She sprinted to them and whirled sideways with her weapon. It cut cleanly through the neck of the first man, and a smooth swipe dispatched the second.
Reduvi stared, open-mouthed.
“Allow them to go free, and I will submit myselfto you,” she repeated.
He nodded slowly, but his forehead
creased. “How canI trust you not to chop us all down if I agree? You must agree to be bound before I let them go.”
She chewed the deal over in her mind briefly. “Your word?”
Febain bowed his head solemnly. “You have it, my lady.”
Artemi dropped her sword and held out both hands before her.
Two clumsy-looking men paced toward her and began lacing some rather simple knots about her wrists. Once completed, they grabbed her roughly by each arm and lugged her to the other captives. Reduvi smiled. “Very good. And even more alluring when tamed. Men?”
The black-uniformed soldiers stepped toward the captives and released their blades,
but the action made Artemi’s breath catch.
She could tell by their postures - the determination in their eyes - that their weapons were not drawn to cut rope, but skin. With as much whip-like speed as she could manage, she elbowed one of the clumsy men, hard. He toppled a little, allowing her to kick at him and simultaneously shoulder into the other man. As he fell, Artemi took the second man’s sword with her bound hands and leapt for the closest would-be assassin of her friends.
She removed his head in the next move and made for a further man. There was only one path now - an outright fight. The thought of it filled her with excitement. She caught another soldier and ended his life in two moves, and in three more steps she sliced through the scalp of a fourth man. The glint of swooping metal
beyond her reach caught her eye - a blade arcing towards Laothoe. There were too many bodies in between for her to stop it, and she watched powerlessly as the guard’s captor removed Laothoe’s head with an executioner’s strike.
Artemi did not stop; she continued to cut through the men in her path. By now several of the house guards had taken up weapons themselves and joined her in the fight to decimate the small army. A wave of heat touched her skin, and she wheeled around to face its source.
A wielder, held by a man who must have been kanaala, glittered brightly in the soft sunlight. How had she not sensed this woman was among them? Artemi could do nothing as white balls of flame thundered down around
her. The Blaze-forged fires burned her clothing and singed her skin as she weaved between her enemies to avoid them. She spun to face an especially lofty and muscular swordsman, and was about to end his life when something solid pushed her squarely to the floor. An invisible force of Blaze held her pinned to the ground and made quick work of separating her from her sword.
Hurriedly, the surviving invaders surrounded to re-tie her hands behind her back and bind her feet together. She would not be able to fight back this time. After checking it was safe, a panting Febain Reduvi came over to spit at her, “Little night spark, aren’t we? Well, you’ve proven you cannot be trusted – Passerid?”
An unremarkable man left the side of
his petite, doll-like wielder and slowly approached Artemi as two soldiers hauled her to her feet.
“You are the one that cannot be trusted!” she hissed at Febain. Hateful man! Something captured her vision to the left. With horror, she realised that the charred bodies of her guards were lying motionless on the grass. One of Neleum’s tattooed arms was visible among them - the same arms that had picked her up when she’d fallen as a child, the arms that had first shown her how to hold a sword. Artemi could not stifle her tears at the waste of life, at the injustice that had befallen those men.
“Oh, come now. You cannot be sorry for those poor fools. But soon, I promise you, you will be very sorry for your own predicament,” Febain crowed in soft tones. He nodded at Passerid to proceed, and the kanaala placed a long-fingered hand around her neck.
Waves of flame shot through her chest from his contact, and she sensed him begin to wrench at the very sinews of her being. It caused pain a thousand times more intense than that wrought by the eisiel’s dagger, and rendered her immobile. She pleaded with her water-filled eyes for him to stop; if she could have spoken she’d have begged, for she had lost all resolve to fight.
They were dead, every one of her guards! Men she had loved like brothers! But only her struggled gasps were audible over his steady breaths.
The kanaala’s face remained impassive as he delved further into her power and rent the last, tattered remains of it from her soul. When he released her, she found all strength had departed from her muscles and all energy had been spent. Artemi collapsed to the soft, earthy ground.
Leaf-dappled sunlight patched over the hard, ochre-brown soil of the road beneath Candor’s hooves as he danced forward. Silar reined the animal straight again and checked the path behind. He’d taken a rather circuitous route to reach the house, but when one needed
to cover one’s trail, such contrivances were necessary. At least he was close now - close enough to see the peaks of the white and black gables above the trees. He wasn’t entirely sure how its residents would react to his arrival or how readily they’d take his advice on numerous matters that weren’t so obviously his business. Wingman or no, he had a country, a king
and an army to placate. Artemi was essential for all three.
Silar would need to use every skill he’d ever learned during his charming years to bring her around. She was about the most stubborn girl he’d ever met, though his excitement at seeing her again was barely contained. Candor trotted merrily into the clearing at the head of the drive and then halted abruptly.
Dozens of static black shapes lay
around the footings of the house, as if a giant jackdaw had flown overhead and shed a tailfull of feathers. Silar’s heart ceased beating. His dark blue eyes scanned the bodies for signs of movement; his ears strained for sound of survivors or ambush. There was nothing. He kicked Candor into a gallop and vaulted from the saddle as soon as the animal reached the human debris. “Artemi!” he shouted, searching through the bodies.
Most wore the black and green of Calidell’s army, but their weapons were not standard issue. Several of the swords were very poorly constructed, ill-kept and blunt. The other weapons comprised a melee of warhammers, maces and axes. He saw a body he recognised: Laothoe. The guard had been decapitated while bound: an execution. There
were no obvious signs of torture, but it was obvious that whoever killed him had initially ascribed value to his life – most likely for information or instilling fear.
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 54
