Romarr and Tallyn quickly exchanged glances. “Ah, that’s not such a good idea,” Romarr said softly.
Morghiad jerked forward and thumped the table beside him. “I will not have her rule me and continue seducing my friends! I want her bone-needling, black heart out of here!”
Tallyn immediately blinked. “I was right. She did do the needle thing to you, didn’t she? Blazes, that one did for me. How did you get through it?”
Morghiad bit down on a curse. He hadn’t meant to let them know about that. It had been among the worst of her tortures: needles of fire in his eye sockets, needles
dragged through the bones of his legs, wires through his spine. He needed to be somewhere safe – the bed spear, the one Artemi had healed. He walked to it and pressed his cheek against the solid wood. It felt cool and glassy against his skin, but he could still smell her faint Blaze forms on it. From his new position, he could see Romarr twist uncomfortably in his narrow seat and take a long swig of honeyed wine. Fear. How could one woman instil so much fear?
“Well?” Tallyn pressed. At Morghiad’s persistent silence, the Kusuru stood, poured another mug of wine and offered it to the king. “She’s harmless now. That’s what you must realise. It’s done. It’s over, and you are free. Now man up, have a drink and I’ll tell you how she stuck those blasted things in the only parts
of my body she hadn’t burned off.”
Morghiad looked down at his right hand. It was there now, happily grown back. A new hand: a hand that didn’t remember the pain. Perhaps if he cut his legs off, there’d be even less of him to remember it. He’d have to consider that another time - he did not want this friend of Artemi’s to think him a coward. Morghiad took the drink and reclaimed his leather chair. He didn’t raise the mug to his lips, however, as his hand would have shaken too visibly.
Romarr was the first to speak though. His eyes became distant. “They were like needles, weren’t they? Needles of the hottest flame, and nothing you could do to unravel them. Bastard gar-siras! Blazes burn whichever wielder discovered them. But the way she...
they burned from the inside.” The broad man swallowed. He really was surprisingly sensitive for his appearance and reputation. “I remember she started with my heart, so that the pain would be pumped around my body. Or that’s what she said.”
Tallyn nodded in agreement. “Always the heart first, then the legs. I tried to think of wreaking my own revenge while she did it – burning out her eyes and stabbing her and all sorts. Didn’t do much to help.” He turned to Romarr. “What did you think of?”
The big man smiled weakly. “A family I had once in Dragha. Best of my lives.”
“That’s Tedarah now?” Morghiad asked.
The man known as Hammer nodded slowly.
“And you?” Tallyn pressed, “What helped you to survive it where we... succumbed?”
He could so easily have said Artemi, and all those moments of perfect happiness he had known with her. But that wasn’t what he’d thought of during M—‘s tortures. He’d sought comfort from the demon in his head - the only part of him that he knew could defeat her. “A black river.” He feared it but he trusted it, too.
Tallyn leant forward and screwed his tanned features up. “What?”
“A river full of black liquid.” And as he summoned the image up in his mind it began to seethe and roil. He was hungry for Blaze, he realised. Many months had passed since he’d fed on any fires. He quickly pushed the thought to the deepest recesses of his consciousness.
The creature wasn’t needed anymore, and it would not escape again.
“Did the river have Artemi in it?”
“No.” The idea made him feel ill; that was no place for her.
Tallyn looked even more perplexed, but settled back into his chair and took another sip of his wine. After a moment he opened his mouth to speak again, “You know, it is very unusual for her to take a lover.” He, Romarr and Arrian had attempted to start that conversation on numerous occasions, and Morghiad was in no mood for it. Morghiad merely kept his silence and supped deeply on the wine. It tasted bitter, this time of year.
“I don’t think you quite understand the magnitude of this, my lord,” Tallyn continued in warning tones, “Life is different for vanha-sielu. We have the honoured privilege of outliving everyone we’ve ever cared for: our wives, our own children. And Artemi was always very wary that her battles with Mirel would hurt those she cared for.”
“And you would prefer it if I left her alone out there? If I allowed her to meet whatever fate this life holds for her?”
A brief flash of anger touched the Calbeni’s features. “What I want for my girl is a thousand years from now, I don’t want to find her crying those brown eyes out over you.”
Romarr grunted quietly beside him.
He had considered Artemi’s future, in which he would not be able to offer his protection or Calidell’s protection. Morghiad feared for her, but a hero of legend could easily prevail without him. “Then what do you suggest I do to prevent it?”
This time Romarr spoke whilst Tallyn clenched his jaw, “We’d rather you had little more than peripheral involvement in her life, but that is unfeasible if she does care for you. What we’d prefer is that you make a more concerted effort to survive and embrace the life you are so fortunate to have.”
“I live to see her again.”
Tallyn stood in frustration. “That is not enough! She didn’t beat Mirel’s backside across your courtyard just to have you mope about afterwards. And it’s no secret that you have a few demons in that brooding head of yours. We can help you with them – it’s what she’d want us to do, believe me. But we can’t do that unless you talk to us. Now will you bloody-well allow us to sort you out?”
They couldn’t know about the creature of the river – what it truly was. No one knew about that. “There are no demons. And she is tough enough to deal with my death when she has to. I’ve seen her resilience. Calidell will go to her whenI die, and she will cope better than anyone, I’m sure of it.”
Tallyn closed his eyes slowly and gripped the arm of his chair. “I think we should finish for now. Rom?” he said as he opened them again.
The large man sighed and nodded. “But before we go, sire, would you mind telling me what the name of that lovely grade nine, blonde wielder is?”
“Selieni. And she is not for sport. Her father left her in my care and I do not appreciate Blaze-hungry kanaala going after
her.”
Romarr merely raised his eyebrows at Tallyn before both men bowed, turned and left his chambers in silence.
A hexagon of bouncing torchlight surrounded the gathering of men in the dungeon. Selieni was there too, conspicuous in her pale green silks and glossy ringlets of hair. Romarr seemed rather keen on her, but that wasn’t a matter of concern for Silar. What
worried him principally was the growing size of the meetings at Artemi’s cell. He’d long ago realised that she would be queen whether Morghiad recovered or not, but holding council down here had a number of drawbacks, one of which was in adding to the king’s paranoia. The other was the sheer cold, which seemed to form ice in the air. He’d brought fur-lined cloaks and blankets down for her, but even those seemed ineffective on her dwindling frame.
“There’s just not much we can do if he doesn’t want to help himself, Tem!” Tallyn protested. The Kusuru managed to look smug, even when he whined. And Artemi seemed to hang off his every word, which was irritating in itself.
“You mustn’t give up on him. Please.”
But when was the right time to stop? Six months had seen some improvements in his coherence, but Silar knew it was not enough... “My lady, I caught him trying to cut his own legs off last night. We had to confiscate every weapon he owned, which he was not too happy about, believe me. He has been my friend for many years but – I’m afraid that man is too badly scarred.”
Artemi stood and stamped on the stone floor. “No!”
; The Sunidarans rose with her in that peculiar levelling custom of theirs, prompting her to sit again to save their embarrassment.
Silar pressed on, “I think he needs you now, Artemi. Blazes, he never could cope with his emotions on his own! He just didn’t know what to do with them. He needed you to keep
him level. Perhaps it is time you visited him.” And left this blasted cell!
“What good will that do? He’ll only have me hauled back down here, or he’ll try to fight me. And then someone will be hurt.”
“Bloody deserves it,” Vestuna grumbled from one corner.
Selieni folded her arms and huffed, “What he needs is a good slap!” Her comment only drew a dark frown from the Artemi.
“Girl, you ought to at least go up for some fresh air, daylight and food,” Arrian stated plainly, “There is no need for you to look the way you do.”
“And I miss your tits,” Tallynjibed. He really was the rudest man Silar had ever met.
Artemi looked down at her wasted body briefly, but only shrugged her shoulders in response. “I’ve seen worse. And I promised I would not break his trust. This is where he has put me and this is where I must stay.”
Silar felt sick. He’d heard those words from her so many times in the last few months. Stubbornest girl he’d ever met. Even a great tempest of wind and fire and ocean would only have seated those heels of hers deeper into the earth.
Romarr had finally shifted his gaze from Selieni when he spoke, “Temi, did he ever talk to you about something he calls the black river?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. The former glory of her hair dragged limply over her shoulders as she moved. But the words had set off a peculiar set of images in Silar’s mind. It meant something
important, and it was linked to the prophesies he’d been reading. The images were gone before he could try to interpret them, as was so often the case with any viewings about Morghiad these days.
Tallyn sighed heavily. “Maybe we should lock him down here with you.”
That drew several angry looks from the Sunidarans, but they knew better than to start a fight with a Kusuru.
“Absolutely not,” Artemi snapped, “He’s had enough imprisonment for one lifetime.” The irony of her words was not lost upon her audience. “We stay on the same path for another month. Tallyn, if you could try to find out what this black river is, I would be very grateful.” She turned to Rahake Njeri, now Captain Njeri. “Captain, I would ask that you
assign him a larger personal guard, if you have not already done so. I want him to feel safe without his weapons. Keep them obvious, but make sure they don’t look like prison keepers.”
The dark man nodded in quiet acquiescence. He had been among those to extract the king’s weapons from his person, and that had been quite a fight in itself.
Silar stayed behind once the meeting had concluded, eager to speak to his queen privately. Artemi studied him in that soft, considered manner she had adopted since regaining her memories; he assumed it was some sort of peculiar amusement at him, or perhaps he reminded her of someone she’d once known. When one had been around as long as she had, it was possible all people started to seem alike. “What is it you have to
tell me, Silar?” she said in her velvet tones. She was the only women he knew capable of simultaneously commanding and seducing with the most unlikely of words.
“I’ve progressed a little farther into our prophesy investigations. I fear it’s not something you will wish to hear.”
“Oh?” she pulled the soft furs more tightly across her shoulders and stepped closer to the bars. “ButI must know it.”
“Dorlunh was certainly here for Morghiad, though he may not have realised it until our king’s relationship to Gialdin was revealed.”
Artemi sniffed. “Do not underestimate Dorlunh’s knowledge. He always gathered much and shared nothing.”
“That may be true, but it doesn’t alter
what he later discovered. Do you know of the Roch rohage?” Silar’s pronunciation of the phrase was guessed, but he believed he had it close.
Her voice took on a new tone: curiosity. “What is that?”
“Something to do with cooling The Blazes, turning them to ice. Dorlunh had collected three descriptions of men, kanaala, who’d done it.” Silar extracted a scrap of paper from his coat and began to read, “...The flames themselves turned cold, and the wielders screamed a lament at their loss. Hordus’ eyes burned, the air cleaved around him, and streaks of his hair grew white. For a moment, the wielders later said, it was as if the world had ceased turning, or the sun would never shine again. But Hordus died almost instantly, and
The Blazes returned once more.”
“You think those white streaks in Morghiad’s hair...?” Her accent slipped from Calidellian to something he didn’t recognise.
Silar nodded. “Dorlunh’s notes confirm it. He even has a description Morghiad gave of the event he was involved in when he was chasing Reduvi. And the wielder he brought back with him, Aura, I spoke to her. She said the same thing. And she was terrified just to speak of it.”
“We almost lost
him.”
“All three of the men in Dorlunh’s research died from it, my lady.”
She looked close to tears, but fought them off visibly. “And in his current state he may attempt it again. But then why didn’t he do that with Mirel? To defend himself?”
“That is the other part of it. Dorlunh warned him of the significance of Roch rohage, and its likely outcome. You see, the end of the world is supposed to come when The Blazes are cooled. And that will be done by one man.”
“A son of Gialdin,” Artemi whispered.
“We don’t know that it’s him... he may yet have sons of his own.” Silar immediately regretted the words as they departed his mouth, and felt considerable guilt for the look of extreme discomfort on his queen’s face. They could never be her sons. “Anyway, I think you should go to him now. Comfort him. You’ve always been good at getting people on your side. Even him.”
“Or I could be the one to cause his mind to finally shatter. No. He must come to me first.” She took a shallow breath. “You said
that man’s name was Hordus. Hordus Farsky, of Kovinind?”
“You knew him?”
She sighed a long, sad sigh. “I cut him from his mother. His father had killed himselfin the days before out of guilt for the inevitable death of his wife. Of course, if he’d lived he could have made her death peaceful rather than painful.” She folded her thin arms, seeming to feel the cold more keenly. “What were the names of the others?”
“Yorenka Tallheart and Giffan. His surname was absent.”
“Giffan never had one. So that is what happened to them.” Artemi sank to the floor slowly.
Silar knelt, very nearly sitting like a Sunidaran. “How did you know them? Were
they lovers?”
“What? No!” She flicked her dark eyes up only for an instant. “But I saw each of them into this world. It is not uncommon for a wielder to be called to assist in such situations, and every so often the child would be kanaala.”
“I’m surprised you remember their names.”
“A wielder always remembers the kanaala she meets – the ones who take her power. It is like the names of lovers.”
“But you seem to be a common factor in their lives.”
“I was not present at Morghiad’s birth, thankfully. His parents handled that perfectly well themselves.” She grimaced and huddled more deeply in her furs. “But you are assuming it is my fault. I taught none of them anything I
understand to be close to what you describe. And it may be that Dorlunh only chased such stories down through their association to me. It’s possible others have cooled The Blazes whom I’ve never even met.”
Silar nodded, but his heart told him otherwise. Artemi was inextricably involved in this, no matter how much she tried to avoid it.
Sh
e continued, “But there is something different about him. Medea should have died when he was born. That’s always the way it goes. Always. And now he has survived this thing where other men have not-”
“Not forgetting his ability to avoid becoming an eisiel.”
Artemi gave him a harsh look then. “That was my doing. At least, I think it was. And the city – that fits into this puzzle
somehow. I will think on
this.”
“Thank you, my queen.” What was so special about the city? Did she mean Cadra? He did not press her for information, however. The tone of her voice had indicated she wished to say no more about it, and his head hurt from the plethora of possibilities that bred in his mind. Having the insane king jittering around between them did not help, either. “Stay warm. And make sure you bloody eat something. When he realises what he’s done, he’ll only feel worse about it if he sees you looking like a character from the Bitter Eleven Wars.”
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 84
