The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  Dorlunh swept towers of priceless books from its surface, and laid out the map. The detail of it was beautiful: gold lettering arced across the page gracefully, cerulean blue oceans glittered around brilliant green lands full of more mysterious symbols and opalescent bands criss-crossed the entire surface of it. These bands were undoubtedly the Sky Bridges, and there were thousands of them. Entranced, Morghiad reached with his fingers to touch the lustrous parchment. He felt along the form of the Blaze Energy that encased it, and felt an immediate stab of recognition. “This is Artemi’s wielding.”

  The archivist gave a knowing wink.

  Morghiad had a flurry of questions for the man, but decided to suppress them. He had to save her in the present, not spend his time

  idly musing over her past. He returned his gaze to the map and located what he believed to be the land around Corfields. “Do you have a more modern map that we can compare this to?”

  “Of course.” The diminutive man went to fetch one from a stack to his left.

  The second map was hardly what Morghiad would have described as modern. Gialdin was still represented as a separate entity and Forda did not yet seem to exist. Morghiad suppressed a sigh and got to work on identifying which Bridges had been used by Reduvi’s men. “Would you mind if I drew on your modern map?”

  Dorlunh shook his head absently.

  Morghiad had to assume that Reduvi would want his men to return to him eventually, and set about looking for ways to complete each circuit. When he’d finished marking out the routes and all of the possible subsequent steps, he was presented with no fewer than fifteen final locations. Some were in Calidell some were on the other side of the world. Of course, all of this was based upon the assumption that they were keeping her in one place and not moving her about. “I think she’s in one of these sites, though Silar would have a better idea which ones are more likely.” Morghiad began writing down their names on the symbol-filled scrap of paper. Could you make a copy of what I have drawn within the hour?”

  “Of course, my lord.” The archivist immediately went to find another map. “Just a word to calm you, sire,” he said as he sifted

  through the papers, “Artemi is a very resourceful woman. She may very well find her own way back to you.”

  He king gritted his teeth. “I cannot assume that, especially in her youth. Even the best warriors have their vulnerabilities. She would know.” Morghiad turned without waiting for a response and stalked back towards the general’s rooms.

  Silar was balancing on the back legs of his chair when Morghiad arrived, reading Reduvi’s note aloud repeatedly. He turned his dark blue eyes to the king. “I think they are still in Calidell. They know that no other country would aid you in finding her, and yet they fear you attempting to look. They must be somewhere in your jurisdiction.”

  “That would make things easier for

  us.” Morghiad seated himself on the opposite chair. “Have you any word on the messenger who brought this note to Cadra?”

  Silar shook his head. “I doubt we will find anything now. But we are prepared for the next one. They will have to use a Sky Bridge to deliver it, and all the closest ones are currently guarded.”

  Morghiad took a deep breath. “Do you think Reduvi would honour his threat?”

  “Yes. These are the words of an incredibly selfish and insecure man. If you do not give him what he wants, he will have his vengeance regardless of any future cost. We must hope that he finds Artemi charming enough not to harm her, if you do agree to his demands.”

  Morghiad knew as much, but he’d

  needed to hear it from another party. “Very well. I have a list of possible locations where he may have taken her, and would like you to have a look at them.” He handed the short list to Silar and stood to pace the room while they discussed its contents. Desperation had begun to turn to fear in his head, and as he continued to direct the operations to find Artemi, that fear grew rapidly.

  Another week passed with no news of her whereabouts, a week in which few members of the castle or its army slept. Morghiad made constant checks on her Blaze stream to be sure that she was still alive, and nightly he paced every corridor and tunnel of the building through his inability to rest. Then, on a bright spring morning, another sealed letter arrived. He did not wish to open it alone, and

  so he called a meeting with his general and captain. The small, muddied and folded piece of parchment lay at the centre of his desk, threatening the men with its contents.

  “You should be the one to open it,” Silar urged Morghiad.

  His eyes were filled with water, and his hands were clasped tightly behind his back to prevent them from shaking. Halftorn between anger and terror, he was in no state to do such a thing. “You read it,” he nodded at Beodrin.

  The captain ran a nervous hand through his sandy hair. “As you wish, my lord.”

  Silar gave them both angry frowns, but kept his thoughts to himself.

  The crackly opening of the letter seemed to take an age, and Morghiad was almost tempted to rip it from Beodrin’s grasp.

  His stomach churned as Beodrin started to speak. “Your Queen of Thieves is a tough little thing, for she bears each of her punishments with considerable grace and solemnity. MightI also compliment you on your choice of such an excellent...” Beodrin broke off, “Are you sure you want me to read this?”

  “Continue!” Morghiad barked.

  “Might I also compliment you on your choice of such an excellent-looking woman? Truly, she is most alluring when tied naked to...” Beodrin cleared his throat, “...when tied naked to a tree. I suggest you-” He stopped as Morghiad growled and kicked over one of the painted screens, shattering it into many splinters of ancient wood.

  “Read on!” he shouted.

  The captain took a deep breath. “I

  suggest you try it if you get the chance. Now to my demands. After lengthy discussion with the Free Men of Calidell, we have decided that Artemi is a very valuable commodity indeed. You may have her alive if you swear to give up your crown, lands and wealth to us. I require a signed, sealed and witnessed statement to this effect, in which you will grant me the title of King of Calidell. Do this, and we will exchange the items we hold on the twenty-first day of the fourth month. This exchange will occur outside the capital city. Herewith are the instructions for directing your reply. If we find that you have trailed our messenger, Artemi will pay dearly for your mistake. F.R.”

  Morghiad could not breathe. He was paralysed with fury so intense that no other thoughts would come to him.

  Silar read his intentions immediately. “You cannot think of agreeing to this! That reprobate of a man cannot be king. He is a wielder-hater, and would order every one in the country executed. He has already demonstrated that he is greedy enough to tax every person into starvation. The entire army would rebel, and then the country would dissolve into civil war. Do not agree to this.”

  Morghiad spluttered though his anger, “He may as well attach reins to me! I have no choice.”

  Beodrin compressed his lips. “Artemi is precious indeed, my lord. But have you not considered that she will come back? Twenty years without her is a small price to pay against an age of-” He grunted as Morghiad took him by his collar and threw him against the wall.

  “There IS NO CALIDELL without her!” he roared. “And if I ever hear you speak of her life as if it is worth less than that of a man or woman who cannot be reborn, I will have you stripped of your commission!” He dropped his hold of the captain and stormed out of the room.

  Fire-blossoms had been strewn in decoration along the corridors to the royal apartments. How he hated fire-blossoms and their infernal smell! He tore several of them from the walls as he passed, and readied himselffor the action he was about to take.

  An early butterfly fluttered weakly against the walls of Artemi’s tent, attempting to gain freedom through the dully glowing walls. How like that butterfly she felt: feeble, lost and imprisoned. And ye
t, how unlike that butterfly she was in truth. Where she had lost hope, the insect would not give up until it died. Where she had been responsible for the deaths of honourable men and women, the wingedcreature was innocent.

  She examined the shell of her guilt. Her body had suffered through its captivity and already her muscles had started to waste. The energy reserves she had for healing were so nearly depleted that she feared she would not survive another beating. All the while, opportunities for escape eluded her completely, and she was haunted by the memories of the men who’d taught her how she might achieve it. Finally, after three weeks at Febain’s mercy, Artemi allowed a tear for herself. As she breathed through the relief it brought her, Captain Reduvi stepped in and hauled her out to the open air. He dropped her unceremoniously in the centre of the campsite.

  “Gather round, gentlemen... and ladies!” The tall man gleefully waved a large letter about in the air. “WhatI hold in my hand,

  Free Men, is a contract to free this country! Morghiad has agreed to our terms. Thanks to our flame-haired witch, good has triumphed!”

  Artemi felt her eyes bulge at the news. “Impossible!”

  Febain folded his arms and grinned broadly. “Perhaps my lady would like to inspect the letter for herself.” He squatted to her level, “Is this not his writing, and his seal?”

  She scanned the letter hungrily. It was indeed his elegant script, marching across the page in characteristically tidy order. And the crossed daggers before the flame unmistakeably constituted the same sigil as the one she’d seen before. She read and re-read the words to be sure of their meaning. He had signed everything away to Febain, and sworn allegiance to him. The statement held a proviso, however. None of it would be enacted if Reduvi failed to present her, alive and well, to Morghiad on the twenty-first day of the month. What had possessed the king to agree to such demands? Artemi shook her head in disbelief.

  “I think we have all the verification we need, no?” Febain turned and smiled to the rest of the group.

  King Morghiad had gone mad, she decided. He’d spent too many years locked inside a castle being plotted against, and had lost all sense of priority. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced. Mad men felt no shame in nudity - they would likely betroth themselves to women they’d never even met, climb into women’s bedrooms at night and they would easily give up their crown for no justifiable reason. Still, a mad man would make a better king than Febain Reduvi.

  The greasy stain of a man laughed wildly as he dragged her back into her stinking tent. “Tonight we celebrate, for tomorrow we become kings!” he declared as he walked away from her place of imprisonment. His words were met by a great cheer from the surrounding men.

  Artemi’s thoughts began to rally at that point. The fate of the country was hanging by a lamb’s hair, and it was down to her to sort out the awful mess. She looked about for something she had missed during her time there. The butterfly had escaped, presumably when she’d been drawn through the entrance. The ropes around her chest, wrists, legs and ankles were still incredibly tight. Artemi beckoned Plodia into her consciousness. Something he

  had said or done during his lifetime had to be of use here.

  “Loosest arm - elbow first, rotate the shoulder and rock!” he whispered in her ear.

  That had to be it! She wriggled her left arm, and then the right. There was slightly more give on the left side, and she bent out her elbow to lift the ropes. They were so tight! She began the tortuous process of dislocating her shoulder; it clicked, and suddenly the tension was lessened. Slowly, and using the floor to pull at the bonds, she rocked the winding ropes about her chest up and over her head until they were done with. Dimly she could hear the revelries of Febain’s celebrations.

  With any luck, those men would become blind drunk within the next few hours. Next, Artemi dragged her wrist restraints as

  close to her hands as she could get them. She then pulled them from behind her back, under her bottom and her legs until they were at her front. Plodia had always been especially proud that he was short enough to perform that trick, though Artemi found it rather easy. He laughed at her arrogance from the corner of the tent. With her shoulder re-aligned, she set about untying her wrists with her teeth. The rope came undone faster than she’d anticipated. The rest was easily unknotted by hand, and she listened at the walls of her tent.

  “This way, girl. You’ll have to rip the canvas here,” Helico hissed at her, pointing to the darkest side.

  Artemi nodded in agreement and started tearing at the fabric. It came apart effortlessly, and she wriggled through to the

  cold mud outside. The sun had set whilst she’d been unravelling herselffrom the filthy rope, and much of the camp was shaded away from the central celebratory fires. Slowly, she crawled through the wet earth to an empty tent. Its foolish owner had left a sword propped at the entrance, and she took it.

  “Get down!” she whispered harshly at Helico. The man was wandering about as if no one would see him. But then, the others hadn’t called him the Shiftiest Soldier in Calidell for nothing. Artemi crouched and then sped into the rough undergrowth of the trees. She sprinted hard with Loathoe laughing crazily at her side, easily matching every stride she made. She was frail, but she was free!

  At first she headed east, knowing that Febain’s men would assume she’d gone

  immediately north towards Cadra. She had six days to reach Morghiad before he completed his idiotic transaction. “But they wouldn’t complete it if I was not there, surely?” she asked Laothoe breathily.

  “Febain is crafty enough to substitute one of the wielders for the purposes of negotiation. He’d just need to put a bag over her head while he collected the crown, and anyone would think it was you!” The longhaired man laughed.

  Artemi frowned and did a quick calculation in her head. She could not travel the Sky Bridges, even if she’d wanted to, and would have to use more traditional means of transport. She had over one-thousand miles to cover in six days, and would need to average about a hundred-and-eighty in each. A

  hundred-and-fifty miles in a day had been whispered about amongst the men. But a

  hundred-and-eighty? Perhaps her relative lightness would help. It had to.

  At Neleum’s insistence, she followed a stream down to a small, sleeping village. The stables were instantly visible, and she padded towards them quietly.

  “Ahem.” Helico said, raising his eyebrows at her. “Are you really going to wander around like that?”

  Artemi looked down at her naked body. It wasn’t exactly looking its best after its treatment in the camp. She sighed, and then followed Helico’s nod to a nearby washing line. A delicate white dress was suspended from it, drifting in the breeze.

  “Ideal for a young queen, I would say.” He winked at her.

  Artemi grinned and went to collect the gown. It was rather finely made, and fitted her quite well. But the skirts were far too long to be practical. She tore through the bottom with the sword to shorten it, kept the trimmings and made for the stables.

  Tethea was waiting for her when she arrived. He was the best horse trainer and rider in the Calidellian army, or so he’d claimed. He smiled at her. “What you need for this journey, girl, are twenty horses. But you’ll have to make do with one at a time and risk them getting founder.” He started walking the boxes. “This one here is fast, but won’t have the endurance. This one is solid, but slow. This one isn’t worth bothering with. That bay mare, however: strong legs, spring in her back and she’s been well

  rested. Take her.”

  Artemi opened the stable door and saddled the animal up carefully. A convenient skin full of water dangled by the door, and she grabbed it as they rode out.

  The horse soon adopted a rabid gallop northwards through the valley. Tethea had not been wrong; the mount was hungry for speed! Artemi smiled broadly as the wind tore at her hair and the road rushed past beneath her. After what she assumed to be four miles had passed, sh
e slowed the horse to a canter and then to a trot to rest. The ground levelled to a flat, and she pressed the mare into a gallop once more. Countless times she alternated the animal’s pace through to the afternoon sun, until Tethea came to reprimand her for pushing the horse too hard. “She needs water, Artemi. And

  her heart is racing. Stop now or you won’t have anything to ride at all!”

  The red-haired woman growled, and quickly dismounted to walk slowly by the animal’s side. Now that she listened to it, the mare was panting rather heavily. But fortune provided them with a stream where the animal snuffled greedily at the water. “Anodyan flower,” Neleum nodded at the little blue blossoms crowded at the water’s edge.

  Of course! How could she have forgotten that? Anodyans. She picked one to smell its delicate scent.

  “No time for that!” Neleum barked. “Make yourself useful while you wait!”

  Artemi tutted and looked around for a suitable branch. She found a nice piece of ash and set about shaving the bark from it. The

  horse had finished refreshing herself, and Artemi walked beside it while she whittled the end of the spear into a sharp point. Once done, she stowed the weapon into the soft leather saddle and mounted to recommence a fast gallop.

  By nightfall, she’d reached a small town, and it was time to change the horse. “Tethea?” she called. No one answered. Artemi sighed through her teeth and led her sweating, shivering horse to the side of a tavern stables. Nobody appeared to be guarding it.