The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  The wielder twiddled her fingers amongst her yellow hair for a moment. “Is your leg recovered yet? Aura told me-”

  “It’s fine. What did you want to talk about?”

  Selieni hesitated before stepping a little

  closer. “It’s about what you said before: that things couldn’t continue as they had...”

  “Yes.” Morghiad was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable.

  She continued after a breath, “... And I agreed with you whole-heartedly. But I’ve waited and waited for you to act upon it - when are you going to ask me to marry you?”

  Morghiad could not stop his shock from manifesting in his features. He tried desperately to think of a response, but could not. How had she misunderstood him so completely? And how was he to set this right?

  Selieni moved closer still while he cogitated. Blazes, but going to battle was easier than dealing with women! She grabbed hold of his face while he thought, sending tendrils of flame through his skin, and thrust her lips

  aggressively onto his. The fiery nature of her kiss reminded him so deeply of Artemi, the heat and warmth of her being. But it wasn’t her. Selieni was a formidable wielder, but she did not taste the same at all. Taking her by the arms, he pushed her away roughly.

  “No. This isn’t...” he let go, realising that he was gripping her wrists too tightly. “That’s not whatI meant. There is no future for us. There will be no marriage. My sword belongs to another woman, Selieni.”

  She shook her head in obvious confusion. “But you said...”

  “I meant you could not continue to... think in that way.” He folded his arms, already thinking of ways to try and placate her father.

  Selieni began to cry. “So you’re in love with that little red-head bitch, then? She’s not

  good enough for you. She spends halfher time spurning your name! She can’t even wield!”

  Typically he wouldn’t have allowed anyone to insult his woman, but this was a special case. He couldn’t risk upsetting her further. “We cannot help whom we love. I’m sorry. And there are far better men out there for you than I.”

  “How many graded-nine-or-more kanaala do you know?” she muttered angrily.

  In truth he knew one, but the man was far from husband material. “There are some out there. And more will be born, no doubt. Have patience.” He hoped that had sounded reassuring.

  Clearly it wasn’t, for Selieni stormed out of the room in floods of tears. Wonderful. Now the strongest wielder at his court despised him, and his captain would surely follow. Maybe Selieni would do everyone a favour and burn him to a cinder out of pure revenge, and then Artemi and Toryn could dance upon his grave with glee. Morghiad took a deep breath to try and calm his thoughts. He needed some time away from everyone - time in the quiet and musty embrace of the library.

  Darkly, Morghiad strode up stairs and across hallways, through small corridors and into broad archways until he arrived at his destination. The smell of the library was so familiar and so calming. He felt his troubles very nearly evaporate as he stepped through the entrance. Morghiad pulled out one of the Calidellian history texts and took his usual seat to begin reading it. Unsurprisingly, it demonstrated that he was actually a distant

  cousin to Acher and several of the Hirrahan rulers. The products of millennia of interbreeding; it was no wonder the lot of them were insane. He probably wasn’t far off himself. Something distracted his attention. Morghiad looked up to find the small but wiry Dorlunh standing before him. How long had he been there?

  “Sire.” The archivist bowed his head.

  “What?” Morghiad could not hide his annoyance from his words.

  Dorlunh didn’t seem to take the intended hint, and instead stepped closer. “I must discuss the matter of your hair with you, my lord.”

  He allowed his shoulders to relax. At least this was a more frivolous matter, probably related to some ancient poem the man had

  spent too long analysing. “Go on, then.”

  The diminutive man allowed himselfa seat. “It has a name, that sign: Roch rohage. It means ‘cold light.’ I’ve only seen it on one man before, and he was dead.”

  “I don’t feel especially dead. The Sky Bridge was falling. I would have been dead if I didn’t do... whateverI did.”

  Dorlunh’s narrow brow furrowed. “I’m not sure how it works, precisely. Unsurprisingly there is very little literature on it, but just before that man died I felt him... cool The Blazes. All seemed to turn to ice for a second. And then he collapsed.”

  Now there was a revelation! Morghiad leaned forward. “You’re telling me you’re kanaala? And you’ve been hiding in here with it for decades?”

  The archivist shifted uncomfortably. “Never liked politics much, or killing wielders. My work is books, my lord.”

  Morghiad raised an eyebrow. Books, his arse! There was far more to this man than he made apparent. “Some of the wielders could use your knowledge. I understand the old ways were quite different to, more elegant even, than those we now use.”

  Dorlunh shook his head. “I am done with all that. Books are for me. And you should note, my lord, that several of those books mention that the end of the world will come when The Blazes are made cold. So whatever it was that you did, don’t do it again.”

  “Thank you for the advice. But I have no desire to end it all just yet.” Not quite yet, anyway. He just needed to find a way of

  keeping those closest to him from hating every fibre of his being. “There isn’t a Blaze form to make dealing with women any easier, is there?”

  The archivist began to laugh, stood, and then wandered off into the depths of his den, still chuckling.

  The sound of knuckles on wood punctuated Selieni’s broken sobs once more. “I want to be alone!” she shouted.

  The muffled sound of her mother’s voice came through the door. “Sweetheart, talk

  to me. These things are never so bad as they seem.”

  Then she heard the sound of her mother talking to someone else. “Selieni, open the door,” her father said sternly. He had his captain’s voice on, the sort of voice one couldn’t ignore. He’d probably charge into her room if she didn’t let him in.

  Selieni scraped the worst of her tears from her face and straightened her dress - the dress she’d so carefully picked out to impress the king. With a deep breath, she opened the heavy door to her father. He frowned at her, but immediately gave her one of his air-starving bear hugs that pressed the fibres of his clothing into her skin. Her dark-haired mother swept into the room behind them and deposited herselffirmly on the bed. This meant the

  interrogation was inevitable. Selieni closed her eyes and released herselffrom her father’s embrace.

  “Does this have something to do with our king, Sel?” her father probed.

  She nodded slowly.

  “Tell us.” He sat on the bed a person’s width from his wife and beckoned Selieni to join them.

  She took her place and considered how to begin. “I thought... I’m such a fool!” Her tears returned once more.

  Her mother placed a hand on her arm. “Was he cruel to you?”

  “No, he just...” Morghiad had always been so gentle with her, so careful when he took her power. The man surely was not capable of cruelty. The way it had felt when

  she’d kissed him, as if the air had turned to pure light! “Why does he love her?”

  Her father let out a short sigh. “He always has. She’s a soldier like he is.”

  “But I’m much prettier! And they don’t even get along!”

  “Of course you are, my dear,” her mother said, stroking her golden hair. “But love makes us see beauty from different aspects. And sometimes the most heated relationships are that way because of the emotion involved.” She smiled at her husband.

  Her father grinned back. “Aye. But even if he did love you, I wouldn’t want you marrying him.”

  Selieni pulled her pale eyebrows into a frown. “I thought you l
iked him.”

  “Ah.

  He is a great king, a natural

  leader.” Her father shrugged.

  “But...?”

  Her father sighed. “But he can be... unpredictable. There is something bad in him that I fear Acher left behind. I haven’t told you about what happened after Artemi died, have I?”

  “Beo...” her mother’s face displayed concern.

  He shook his head. “I should have told you about this earlier. You were still very small. But we had to keep it... in the castle. And we had to keep it from Artemi’s father. Thankfully Toryn was on the other side of the world, searching for his daughter at the time... but just before I left to join the hunt...” Her father placed his elbows on his knees and rubbed at his dark blond stubble. “Some men, kanaala, if

  they use large amounts of Blaze Energy every day they become... dependent upon it. Before, Artemi was a very powerful wielder. And Morghiad had access to her fires whenever he wanted it. Handling that much Blaze... well...” Her father took a long, drawn out breath as if he knew the joy of it himself. “When she died his supply was taken from him, and he wasn’t able to cope with the loss. After he had finished nalka, and shortly after he was crowned, Morghiad began behaving oddly.

  “It was subtle at first, hidden in his temper. He’d invite wielders to train with him, or even just watch them practicing the forms in the Great Courtyard. Nothing too unusual. But then he started tracking them down in the castle, invading their rooms at night to demand access to their power. Eventually he was

  tearing through the corridors like a madman, screaming for wielders to give him what he wanted, and then forcing them to if they refused. But he was the king, and an unbeatable swordsman. It took some very carefully laid traps and Lord-General Forllan’s planning to capture him, and we had no choice but to lock him in the cells until he was over it. That’s whyI always used to watch him with you. He’s behaved since... but, you never know.”

  Selieni suppressed a shiver. Had the kind and gentle king really done such a thing to those women - used them for his pleasure? Abused them? “Where are those wielders now?”

  “Most of them left. Anadea is still here, but as a weaker one she didn’t experience the

  worst of his... behaviour,” her father said, sitting back.

  She chewed her lip. “But now Artemi is quenched, he won’t be able to feed his addiction with her. She can’t reawaken it in him if there’s no fire in her.”

  “He can still touch The Blazes if he and she... you know. And who’s to say the mere sight of her hasn’t brought it all back to him already? Her quenching presents a very worrying situation. Especially if he promised himselfa reward for his wait and they do not resolve their troubles soon. If he has truly dealt with his need, then perhaps it does not matter, but I’d rather ensure your safety by seeing them reunited.”

  Selieni now understood the lingering holds and hungry looks she’d received from

  Morghiad during those sessions they’d shared. She had thought it desire, but clearly it was

  something else. Clearly, the king was not over his heroine.

  The box was a curious construction, made of fluidly interlocking iron bars and hexagonal nuts. He ran his fingers over its smooth and glossy surface for a second time. It had been sealed with Artemi’s work: indescribably complex and beautiful shapes of Blaze to hold the entire thing together. The

  wrong move could cause it to explode in his face, or incinerate the entire castle. Morghiad sat back in his chair and pondered the puzzle carefully. Really he had no business opening it, and she would find out eventually. But he wanted to know more about her past. He wanted to know how many other lovers she had left strewn across the world through the centuries, how many she had saved from her conflagration of intense pleasure.

  Or blazes, what if she’d had children? Legends about her only seemed to mention the battles she’d fought, titles she’d held and the men in them were described as ‘admirers’ rather than lovers. Koviere had never mentioned anything of that nature, and the last person Morghiad wanted to discuss such matters with was Dorlunh. The little man had

  recently taken to interviewing Morghiad about every sensation he’d felt upon gaining the Roch rohage, which was now all but gone.

  He sighed and touched the box again. On the one hand he risked upsetting her by invading her privacy but, on the other, the information held inside could help them both immeasurably.

  The box was from the storage facility at The Reduvian Bank, which now belonged to the state. It hadn’t taken long to locate a surprisingly well-funded account belonging to a certain A. Fireblade, and the box had been part of its effects. Morghiad re-appraised its notes. Last accessed four-hundred years ago, just before Acher had acceded Calidell’s throne. The date of its original deposit had been lost somewhere in the dark depths of time.

  No doubt she and the other vanha-sielu had accounts like these scattered across the six continents, ready for whatever lives they were born into. And what if she had taken other men to her bed? It could mean she was wellpracticed at not turning them to eisiels, which would mean he was less likely to die if he wanted to lie with her. Morghiad hissed with exasperation. It was unsafe with her quenched, and she still insisted upon insulting him every time they passed in a corridor.

  No. He had to accept that bedding her wasn’t going to happen. The content of the box was not his business. He picked its surprising weight up and carried it to the bronze doors of his rooms, before opening one of them. “Can you see that this is placed in the strong room of the keep?” He handed it to one of the guards.

  “Take another man with you, if you would. It’s very special.” The soldier nodded and swaggered off, lumbering the box down the corridor with a tall swordsman in tow.

  It was time to do some proper work, and see that his country was running smoothly. Morghiad reprised the seat at his broad desk and set about reading the most recent reports from the Wilrean border. Morale was low there, governors had deserted their posts and few people knew much about their king. Probably fewer cared or were aware of what he could offer them in return for their taxes. It would soon be time for a royalvisit, he considered. A knock at the doors disrupted his thoughts. “Come.”

  Artemi walked in, now fully recovered and wearing the black and green of the army.

  Her golden braid descended down one shoulder and most parts of her body seemed to harbour a blade of some kind.

  “Good to see you’ve taken your oaths.” He grinned at her in his usual fool manner. “What canI do-?”

  “Nothing.” She folded her arms in irritation. “Either your captain or your general has seen fit to post me as your personal bodyguard.” Artemi very nearly spat the words out. “Every bloody duty I have for the next three months, and they haven’t even bothered to replace me when I’m off-duty! It is so thinly veiled they might as well have written it on a huge sign in the city and invited everyone to look!”

  Morghiad compressed his lips. She was right, but he wasn’t about to complain over having her nearby. “If you have issue with their orders you will have to talk to them, I cannot-”

  “Yes, yes, yes. I know.” She grimaced and went to stand to attention at the grey wall by the door.

  Morghiad’s gaze lingered on her for a little while before he remembered himself, and he returned his thoughts to the work in hand.

  Another knock sounded at the door. Clearly it was going to be one of those incessantly irritating days. “Come,” he said with mild annoyance.

  Kahriss Eryth glided in with her typical grace, and Morghiad stood to greet her with a degree of respect.

  She looked pointedly at the king’s new guardian as she passed. “Will you not curtsey before royalty, girl?”

  Artemi maintained her statuesque position and gave no sign of movement.

  “Artemi,” Morghiad warned, though he deeply wished it hadn’t been necessary.

  The warrior gave the shallowest of masculine b
ows, and resumed her former stance.

  “This is the Artemi I’ve heard so much about?” Eryth said with wonder. “Well, I hope my lord won’t mind me saying she’s not quite as I expected. A little rough around the edges to be classically beautiful, I would say. And she lacks a certain elegance.” The kahriss moved closer to inspect her hair. “Interesting colour. But again, wild rather than refined.”

  Artemi was doing an excellent job of reining in her emotions. Nothing showed on her porcelain face, for all of the vitriol that no doubt filled her mind.

  Morghiad was beginning to lose patience, however. “If you have quite finished appraising my soldier, what business do you have?”

  Eryth smiled mysteriously and approached his desk with her hips swaying. She pushed some of the papers aside and sat on it. “I wanted to know if you had made a decision on my father’s request. You did receive the note?” she cooed.

  Morgihad sighed and took his chair. “Yes, I did.” Another blasted marriage ‘suggestion’. “I’m afraid that, as before, my answer is no.”

  “I’m sure I could persuade you otherwise,” she whispered as she leaned forward, displaying a large amount of her

  bosom.

  Morghiad clenched his jaw tightly. Wouldn’t this woman give up? “I’m afraid not. Is that all you wished to discuss?”