The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  He chased them into the dappled sunlight, closing the distance between them with each hungry step that his horse took. Over the crashing noise of the pursuit, he heard Reduvi shout something, and it became apparent that a group of his men were waiting ahead. They

  were nothing he could not handle alone, Morghiad knew. But abruptly the heat of Blaze touched the air around him, and he saw the purple glow of a Sky Bridge opening before them. Morghiad gritted his teeth as several of the men jumped through, followed by a captive wielder and her kanaala. Reduvi careered through as well, but Passerid was several yards behind. Thinking quickly, Morghiad reached up to his crown, took hold of the solid silver circlet and threw it squarely at Passerid’s head. It hit its target with a satisfying ‘thunk’, and knocked the former soldier from his saddle.

  Morghiad vaulted from his mount at speed and caught the Blaze forms that held the gateway open. Their energy writhed violently within his grip but he held them fast. With their fires burning through his consciousness he

  grabbed hold of Passerid’s delirious form and hauled it to its feet. “Soldier!” he shouted.

  The man blinked his pale brown eyes groggily, and blood dripped from his nondescript nose.

  Morghiad shook him until he became more lucid. “You have acted in a most illadvised manner, and you have done a very grave thing indeed. I can promise you that you will suffer as she did. Do you have anything to say to me?”

  “Artemi is a wielder,” Passerid croaked. “Wielders need to be contained.”

  Morghiad threw him to the ground in disgust, and then lifted him to tie him to his horse. The peculiar, oily sensation that signified the other man’s ability crept into his skin with sickening torpidity. Once the dented crown had been tied on too, Morghiad turned the subdued soldier and his mount back toward the city. He slapped the animal’s backside hard, and watched with amusement as the pair bounced back down the rise. It was possible that his former army brothers would treat the deserter even less generously than Morghiad had, if unlikely.

  The glow of the Bridge gateway beckoned him, and he remounted Tyshar. “Time to bow to your king!” he called through the archway, and brandished his sword as his warhorse leapt through the opening.

  He waved his gold and red dagger at her again, a wicked grin working its way across his chiselled features. She tried to wriggle free of her bonds, but they held her too tightly to the ground. There was no escape, no hope. Febain’s eyes sparkled with menace, and he stabbed the dagger hard into her stomach. Screams erupted from her throat at the pain, throwing her body into a spasm that rent her free of her restraints. A firm pair of hands took

  her by the shoulders. “Artemi?”

  She blinked. The tent was gone, and so was Febain. Someone was standing over her, though she couldn’t quite focus on his silhouette.

  “At least you’re awake.” He chuckled briefly. “Seems you took quite a nasty blade on your way here. Would you like to explain how that happened?” He tried to urge her back onto the pillows, but she slapped his hands away.

  An overpowering smell of food filled her head, and she hungrily sought its source. “Bandits,” she said.

  “You’re honestly telling me that a group of thieves got the better of you? Now that is embarrassing.”

  Artemi felt anger rising in her, and the speaker’s face resolved as he took a seat next

  to the bed. His dark blue eyes and pale hair triggered a memory; she had seen him before, but couldn’t recall his name.

  Then she saw the food next to him. It looked more delicious than anything she’d ever tasted.

  “Good to see you’re focussing on the more important things than idle discussion. Help yourself. You bloody well need it.” He gestured towards the gigantic pile of roast fowl and vegetables.

  She lost no time in grabbing hold of a leg and stuffed it greedily into her mouth, before downing a jug full of honeyed ice tea. It all tasted as wonderful as its looks had promised. Artemi chomped down on more vegetables, dimly aware that her companion was giggling at her somewhat uncivilised behaviour. She tried

  to give him an angry look in between mouthfuls, but it seemed to have very little effect upon his mood. In a matter of minutes she’d emptied the entire plate, save for a picked-clean carcass, and was feeling like an overstuffed cushion. Artemi collapsed back onto the pillows and considered her new surroundings.

  “It’s the king’s bed, thoughI don’t suppose he’ll mind you being in it.” The blond man grinned. “Especially now you’re not covered in mud.”

  She looked down at the soft white sheets, apparently made of the essence of doves’ feathers or spiders’ webs. And as for her body - naked again! Was everyone outside Corlands so vehemently against wearing clothing? She pulled the sheets more tightly to her body, feeling her cheeks redden.

  The man raised an eyebrow. “We had serving maids clean you up. Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. Well, not much anyway.” He winked.

  Artemi ignored his tease and examined the rest of the room carefully. Grey marble, flecked with silver, dominated the walls and beautifully light veils draped over each arched window. Their ivory fabric billowed out in the warmth of the late spring breeze. The room was plainly furnished, but spoke of space and wealth. How had she ended up here?

  “Are you going to utter any more to me than one-word sentences?” the blond man asked.

  She brought her eyes back to him to reassess his youthful features. He was rather attractive with that mischievous grin. “Who are

  you?”

  The grin dropped instantly, giving way to a frown. “Don’t you remember?”

  Artemi shook her head. “I was riding to get to the city, I had to warn Morghiad. I had to tell him... Where is he?”

  “The last I heard he went chasing after Reduvi like a man ablaze. He’ll be back in a few days, I’m sure.”

  So she had made it in time. Relief washed over her, and her injury started to throb. “Your name is Silar, is that right?”

  He smiled and offered her a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Artemi D’Avrohan.”

  She took it and shook firmly, holding a bed sheet across her modesty with the other hand. At least he didn’t pretend she was a lady. That was something.

  The general stood and walked toward the windows. “Would you like to rest a little longer or take a tour of the castle?”

  Artemi could feel her muscles atrophying with every second she remained in the bed. “I’ll need some clothes...”

  “Already arranged.” He retraced several of his steps and headed toward a doorway. “Alucita? Could you come in and help the young lady with her attire, please?”

  Artemi bit her lip. “I can dress myself, thank you.”

  Silar clasped his hands at his back. “No, you cannot. I’ve seen the mess your body is in.” He smiled at the serving maid as she entered, prompting her to grin back. “Please ignore the young lady’s protestations. She is still a little confused from her trials.”

  Alucita carried what looked like a rather expensive, silk gown towards an increasingly indignant Artemi. As the maid set it out on the bed, it became apparent that the gold dress was indeed expensive and made of silk. How she hated wearing such ridiculous, overly extravagant things! The general went to stand at the door and folded his arms, back to her.

  “Are you to be my guard then?” she enquired.

  “Yes.”

  Artemi wriggled her legs in anticipation of their first movements. “And are you guarding me from wicked enemies or myself?”

  “Both,” he grunted. No doubt Morghiad and his unhinged mind had put the poor man up to this.

  She gritted her teeth at her new, if more pleasant form of imprisonment, and swung her legs to the ground. They felt strong enough, though they looked wasted. Artemi took a deep breath, and stood up from the bed. The change in gravity wrought havoc on her wound, and blue stars glittered in her vision as she sought support from Alucita. At least she’d managed to stifle any moans
that would cause Silar to spin around and see her in shame.

  She allowed herselfto breathe once more and released her hold on the maid. The olive-skinned girl was kind enough to aid her in donning a sheer slip, and then in completing the apparently monumental task of conquering the golden gown. The reinforced bodice was a blessing though, taking all the strain from her damaged muscles. Artemi had never been so

  glad to wear a silly dress. She thanked Alucita, found a mirror and pulled the wilder strands of her hair into place.

  Silar was looking at her intently when she turned from the mirror. “Ready?”

  Artemi nodded. She knew she was going to be stared at for all the trouble she had caused, but it was better than sitting in a madman’s rooms and doing nothing.

  Her feeble steps were met by more raised eyebrows as she approached the blond general. “Would you care to take an arm?” He offered the crook of his elbow.

  Artemi gave him a fierce look. “Would you offer it if I was a man?”

  He thought for a minute. “Well, yes. I would. ThoughI would not enjoy the experience as much.” The honest look on his

  pretty face was irritating, to say the least.

  “Hmm,” she frowned as she took his arm. It was rather pleasantly muscular, now that she dangled from it like a golden trinket.

  They walked into the anteroom and past a dark stone fireplace, where some dim memories of her arrival in Cadra returned. And then the other memories tore into her consciousness. “My guards at Corlands - were they given any sort of burial? And Cydia, did anyone find him?”

  The gilt doors opened and, as if he’d been waiting upon her words, the moustachioed guard was revealed beyond. Artemi threw herself into the dark man’s arms and embraced him tightly. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed into his shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

  “You are a very silly girl indeed,” he

  whispered. “Just be thankful you are alive, otherwise I would be angry at you.”

  She lifted her head to look at his black and green-striped uniform, before raising her eyes to his face. “What happened to all of your metal decorations?”

  “The Calidellian army doesn’t look fondly on such enhancements. Makes me too handsome, or something.”

  Artemi mustered a smile. “How did you... escape?” She released herselffrom his embrace, realising it would start to look inappropriate if she held on any longer. Though she wanted to squeeze the man for another hour, at least.

  Cydia pulled his mouth to one side. “I was going to ask you the same thing. But I was freed when the man behind you decided to pay a very fortunately timed visit.”

  She looked back to Silar, who merely smiled. Artemi was still not entirely sure of what to make of him. “Where are the others buried?”

  “Not far from here. They’re with the other honoured soldiers of Calidell, on the outskirts of the city,” Cydia said.

  Artemi looked hopefully at the general for permission, and he nodded with a frown. “Will you come with me?” she asked the darkskinned soldier.

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  Her wound was beginning to throb again, and Silar was obviously watching her closely, for he swiftly moved to replace her hand on his arm. “Cydia?” he motioned to the other man.

  The soldier offered her a second arm,

  and Artemi took it gratefully with her free hand. The three walked past the guards and down the darkened halls, exchanging polite nods with various nobility that milled about. Silar grimaced behind the backs of most of them.

  “I thought you were known as LordGeneral Forllan,” Artemi teased.

  He sniffed. “An accident of my father’s making. And it doesn’t meanI have to be a blazed smarmy lackey, Lady D’Avrohan.”

  Clearly her father had told him of how she hated the title. Her father. “Have you heard from any of my family?” Not that they were expected back yet, but she worried about them anyway.

  Silar shook his head. “Our search efforts were focussed on you, I’m afraid. Though there are people waiting at Corlands

  for them when they return.”

  “I can’t go back there, can I?”

  “No.”

  Artemi stamped down on the sadness that fought to rise in her. She was lucky to be alive; a pile of wood posts and plaster mattered little now.

  The dim orange glow of the tunnels gave way to blue daylight, and they entered the cobbled, grand courtyard. Green flags weaved gently in the breeze, emblazoned with the black image of a leaping panther. Cydia had always enthused that only the very best hunters would ever lay eyes on a real panther. Artemi half thought them an imaginary animal, dreamed up to make fantastical stories and elegant arms.

  Her attention was stolen by the approach of giant of a man, at least seven feet

  in height. He was dressed in surprisingly wellfitted clothing, his head was implausibly square and his brown hair caught in a ponytail.

  “Koviere.” Silar offered him a friendly smile.

  The giant nodded, not moving his ice blue eyes from Artemi. As she gazed into them, she realised they were old, very old indeed. “And how is our delightful little handful of fire today?” he boomed at her.

  “Lacking a little fuel, but otherwise incendiary, thank you.” There was no point in garnering sympathy for being a quenched wielder.

  He rubbed at his great, angular chin. “Very good. I hope to see you in uniform and fighting in the practice hall as soon as you’re recovered.” Pleased with his comments, he

  ignored her bulging eyes and strode off to the castle innards. Did they all expect her to take on this role as Cydia had - to be one of the mad king’s soldiers?

  Silar helped her onto a sleepy brown horse and went to fetch his own chestnutcoloured animal, while Cydia saddled a toofamiliar mount. It had been Tethea’s prized racing horse. The soldier caught sight of her reaction and patted the mare’s neck. “She needs someone who would appreciate her worth. Perhaps you ought to adopt her?”

  “And then what would you ride?”

  He laughed. “HalfofCorlands’ stables are here. Exercising all those animals is wearing me rather thin! I’ll end up looking like you very soon.”

  Artemi attempted to grin but tightened

  her reins instead. “Febain’s men took mine. I’d be happy to have Arrow.”

  “Fine. But you’re not getting on anything as flighty as this until you’re fixed. Right, GeneralForllan?”

  Silar nodded sternly. Clearly they intended to make her life as boring as possible, for as long as possible. They rode out slowly to the green of the city and through the colourful melee of people at the market. Artemi spotted something she needed. “Would one of you mind lending me a brass coin? It is important.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind waiting here with the horses?” Silar asked of Cydia.

  The soldier nodded and took the other two sets of reins once they’d dismounted. Artemi very nearly fell to the ground with the sudden change in position, and clutched at the

  general’s arm keenly. He gave her a concerned look, but it rapidly dissolved in the presence of her threatening glares. Slowly, they pushed through the throng and approached the stall of Artemi’s choice. It was the most dazzling concentration of brilliant, vibrant colours she had ever seen; every flower from every section of countryside was represented on the small table. Their mingled, spicy scent was so wonderfully intoxicating that she half-forgot her aching stomach. She knew exactly what she was looking for, and spotted it at the back. “Could I have seven of the spear flowers, please?” she asked the stall keeper.

  The burly lady gave a knowing smile and began collecting together the conical, purple blooms in her meaty hands. When she passed them to Artemi, she drew their sweet,

  honeyed scent in deeply. Silar duly paid the kahrly sum of three copper coins, and they recommenced their journey to the southeast of the city.

  It took them through the poor district and the tiny, one-roomed houses that balanced so precariously on the
ir multiple levels, like a twisted stack of gaming cards. Several of them displayed fresh-cut stone, and recent efforts at reinforcing their skewed and ancient masonry. It was hard to believe that her father had once lived in one of these structures.

  The gritty green stone buildings hunkered past, and soon they were inside the vastness of the city’s defensive walls. The damp rock around them reminded Artemi very much of the cave in which she’d sheltered with Morghiad two months earlier. She rapidly

  scrubbed the image of him from her mind. This was a serious outing.

  Daylight soon approached and they marched into its surprisingly warm glow. Outside lay the broad and pale green grasslands of Cadra, entirely devoid of any sort of building, and two very spindly legged foals stumbled about after their mothers at the back of a herd of wild horses. Cydia’s mount walked ahead and eastward to a hill, its horizon dotted with numerous white objects. As they drew close, it became clear they were marker stones, each with a fresh coat of lime wash. There were thousands of them. Only a few were inscribed with black initials or names, and most had weathered to unrecognisable lumps.

  Artemi and her two soldiers turned to the northern edge of the plots and continued

  walking, until a neat row of seven fresh earth mounds became apparent. Artemi dismounted like a crooked twig, clutching tightly at the spear flowers.