And so she ran between the houses of the hundred-and-first sector - the sector she’d been born in almost halfa century earlier. But, after two hours, the streets had not filled with frightened citizens or their children. “We will stay,” or, “We will fight,” was uttered by every person she met. In truth she was not bolstered by their loyalty so much as worried for their safety. The images from her dream returned to her again - that terrible and impossible dream born of long months in her cell. It would not happen!
When she returned to the castle, she
scaled one of the towers to watch for citizens leaving. Only a sad few seemed to be doing so, and most of them looked like visitors. The fools believed the nonsense written in those sham history books! How could she save them from an army of thirty-thousand? She would burn another four-thousand soldiers to save Morghiad, surely. Though she’d never recover from the guilt of it, enemies or not. And she would be dead in seconds once she was exposed to the Hirrahan wielders by those forms and that much power. Mirel must have incapacitated every wielder in Calidell before she’d committed her deplorable act. Artemi could not do that. She was not capable of that... but for her king... No. She would kill many of them if she had to, but would find a way to scare them first. There had to be some
honour in this battle.
Artemi shook her head. She was beginning to sound like Morghiad, and she was old enough to know honour was not always feasible. Weariness touched her with its warm fingertips then, and she was drawn back down into the castle, toward her bed. She crawled into it slowly, placed her dagger beneath her pillow and promptly fell asleep.
banner nor hair wavered in any kind of breeze. It felt unnatural. Morghiad had spent halfthe night pacing his city, looking on helplessly as the preparations were made for the approaching army. If it wasn’t bad enough that they’d already laid waste to swathes of his countryside in their efforts to reach this place! And what had he done to protect his people in those areas? Where had he been for them? He would surely be recorded as the worst king ever to have ruled. A failure to his people; a disappointment to his parents’ memory. But Mirel had left them so powerless, and badly scarred. Artemi was their only hope now. She was everything.
He exhaled the hot, humid air and paced back towards the castle. Between the glistening green buildings, its black form
seemed pregnant with anticipation, quiet.
“Look! It’s the king, it’s the king!” Two scruffy-looking children ran towards him and then stopped in apparent awe.
At least he was no longer covered in the effluent of Cadra to greet his former subjects. That was something. “I am no longer your king,” he said gruffly.
“Is the queen getting married to a new one?” The eldest child played with her hair as she spoke.
He tried to explain, for what little it was worth. “No. She is the queen. She does not need a king.”
“So what do you do?”
Her friend whispered to her quietly. “Kati, it’s like when my daddy lost his job. He’ll sit at home for a few weeks in the best
chair and drink the beer. And then the queen will shout at him to ‘Getanotherbloodyjob.’”
Morghiad could not prevent a grin from surfacing. It swiftly grew into a chuckle. “I don’t plan on drinking too much beer. My role is to help the queen however I can.”
“Like a servant?”
“Yes. Now, you two should go to your homes. It is far too late for you to be out.”
The two girls giggled and ran into the night. Hirrahans had no desire to kill innocent children, surely?
He closed his eyes and drew another lungful of sticky air into his body. The black river in his mind roiled, bubbled and turned. It had been restless since he’d touched Artemi, and somewhere inside it, the Blaze-hungry monster was rousing. It hadn’t wielded any
power in such a long time. He needed to be near her before it became any more agitated. Perhaps... perhaps now was the time to take up her offer of company. He wanted to be linked to her through the inevitable battle, to know that she was safe.
Morghiad quickened his pace toward the iron-filled mouth of the castle gate, passed through it and walked through the scarred courtyard. Many more soldiers patrolled its circumference than was typical, though all acknowledged him with a polite bow as he passed. The gritty basalt steps twisted curiously in the low, flickering light of the oil lamps. Clearly anticipating a siege, Artemi must have ordered that the lamp oil be rationed. Morghiad hoped that she had applied so much thought in all aspects of her rule. He really had no idea
where she had taken up rooms, and was forced to rely upon the indications of the posted soldiers along the way. At length, he found himself standing outside the old benay-gosa apartments. How long it had been since he’d stood, waiting for her, outside these doors? They had remained entirely empty during his rule, of course, but now they thronged with guards.
Happily for Morghiad, Toryn was not among them. That would have presented a very awkward situation indeed, and her father’s looks of disapproval were enough to dissolve any man’s ardour. He paused before knocking, however. He would be interrupting her sleep. No, this was a selfish exercise, he was thinking only of himself. Again. Instead Morghiad withdrew his sword, sat against the door frame
and placed the blade across his knees. Happy thoughts of her lithe, naked and slumbering body filled his mind as he drifted into the uneven calm of a guardian sleep.
The low light of dawn awoke him in the morning, causing him to start as if a softpadded eisiel had slipped into the hallway. He stood and assessed the corridor, which was still filled with shadows. Only the guards occupied it in noiselessness, dark statues almost made from the same stone as the castle. He resheathed his sword, and a noise from behind him caused him to spin quickly.
Artemi stood at the door, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in waves of old gold and fire. Her eyes had taken on her years with the return of her memories, but were still just as inviting. “You’re here.”
Burrus leaned over. “Lost lad’s been here most of the night. Though why he feels your guard is not sufficient is beyond me...”
Announcing the truth of his own thoughts was not the right thing for Morghiad to do here. “It is my place.”
She studied him briefly, but suppressed whatever thoughts glittered in her eyes. “Come with me.” She walked a little way into the darkness of the hall and turned back. “Well?”
His duty would start in less than an hour’s time. If she intended to delay him, he would fail. “I cannot be long with you-” And certainly not long enough for anything more intimate than a kiss.
“Blazes, this country needs you now and so do I! Your bloody punishment can wait until this is over. Protecting the city is far more
important than playing in the sewers!”
Morghiad gritted his teeth. She was right, as much as he disliked it. He took to walking at her side, and together they made their way to the heart of the castle. There was no question as to where she was leading him. Buried deep in the lightless stone warren, next to the heavily walled cells, was the keep. Its door was constructed of wood and steel over a foot in thickness; its guards were selected for their height and width. One of them easily towered over Morghiad, the other was at least twice as broad.
They bowed as elegantly as such men could, and proceeded to wrestle the great door open. Both guards were certainly needed for the job but, once moving, the great block slid fluidly from its former position. “Wait here,”
Artemi bade her guards before gracefully striding through to the vault.
Morghiad followed her sinuous shape into the soft glow of firelight. The chamber was well-ordered, with its neatly stacked shelves, boxes and niches full of valuables. All of the precious things were kept here - all of the things the country had a duty to preserve.
“Light of Achellon, I never knew Calidellians were such hoarders!” Her accent slipped into something western-sounding then. It often seemed to do tha
t when she wasn’t concentrating. “Is that a... ? Blazes, it is!” She lifted a globe-like object from the nearby shelf.
Morghiad had no idea of its use, but he could see the dancing points of light now surrounding Artemi. “Acher had as many Blaze tools rounded up and locked away here as he
could find. What does that one do?”
It began to spin in mid air as she released it, and the enticing heat of Blaze Energy radiated from it. “It builds things makes energy solid. Something like this would have been used to construct Gialdin, maybe even break it.” She set the sphere down and scanned the other objects on the same shelf. “If we’re lucky there may be a Bridge-maker here, though I’d have no idea which one it was.”
He suddenly felt very hungry - hungry to wield. “Anything that could help us against the Hirrahans?”
Artemi pulled her mouth to the side. “Not that I can immediately see, but I don’t know what half of it does. But that is why we’re down here. Now, where is that box?” She stepped lightly along the perimeter of the
shelves, and Morghiad joined her search from the other side. It was only a matter of moments before she found something else of interest. “This was Medea’s,” she whispered.
He went to peer over his queen’s shoulder, and saw that she was holding a silver, claw-shaped bracelet. It prodded some deepset memory, but he could not recall its significance. Artemi turned and pressed it into his hand with a sad smile.
“I want you to have it.”
“I... couldn’t. I knew her and it would be... wrong. Give it to your daughter when you have one.” She looked a touch puzzled at her own words.
“Artemi, we can’t do that – not even a daughter if she’s anything like you.”
“We may adopt. And you may find
yourself another queen one day.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He tied the bracelet to his belt and folded his arms, watching Artemi as she paced the lines of dusty or glittering objects. The arch of her back was perfect; the line of her thighs denoted their agile strength and smooth softness. She walked the room like a panther made of shadows. Morghiad pushed his excitement aside and returned his attentions to the task in hand. Almost immediately he spotted the large metal box. “It’s here, my lady.”
She came trotting over and immediately released a whip of Blaze upon the box, pulling it up into the air. The heat from her wielding washed over Morghiad, further aggravating his hunger.
“It took me an age to work out how to
make these boxes,” she said absently. Vastly complex and intricate fronds of blue energy weaved in and out of the box’s surface, pulling it into a sphere made of triangles, or a pyramid made of hemispheres. It made anything he produced look utterly clumsy and... unwieldy by comparison. The heat from her work intensified, and her hair began to weave around in it.
“Artemi...”
She wasn’t listening, or didn’t seem to hear. But how badly he wanted a taste of Blaze, just a little of that sweet fire. He moved a step closer. She was concentrating hard on the puzzle she’d made for herself, and her eyes were glittering with excitement. “Artemi,” he said again.
“It’s nearly there.”
The draw was becoming inescapable. He wanted it, wanted her. Something dark and aggressive moved in his mind. “Please...” He was so close to touching her.
“One more turn and it’s done.”
Morghiad moved his hand towards her face and the soft, pale skin that beckoned him. The closer his fingers came, the stronger the heat they felt from her. It had been so long...
“There,” she said, and the Blazes vanished. His hands felt the cool, damp air of the chamber once more. The creature inside him was screeching, howling with anger. It felt cheated. Morghiad turned slowly to look at the former box of rivets. It now lay as a flat sheet of dark grey metal on the floor. A transparent object floated above it.
“That,”
Artemi said triumphantly, “is the Heart of Glass.”
It did indeed look like a human heart made of clear glass, anatomically correct and glistening. “From the Torvalen Hunt?”
“Yes. Tallyn succeeded where so many others had failed, and I was asked to look after it.”
The thing faded back into its black river as mirth pushed it aside. “He gave his heart to you?”
His queen gave him a withering look. “Do you know what this does?”
“The stories described it as the heart of a fire god from Achellon, and it would grant anyone who used it the power to resist any weapon. It would render them immune to any Blaze assault.”
Artemi shook her head. “No... and yes. Instead of existing as living flesh that burns with Blaze, the body becomes Blaze. It is everything. A wielder or kanaala can be their environment.”
“Have you tried it before?”
“Of course. But it is... tiring. And dangerous. You must have a great deal of discipline to handle it.”
Not for him to try was what she meant. “Show me.”
“You order me about like a king, my lord.” She grinned at him. “But now is not the time. I’d be useless for the rest of the day.” A shot of Blaze came from her hand then, and freed the heart from its invisible cradle.
It was too much. Morghiad reached for her bare neck, and swept her fizzling hair to one side. Her mind was willing, and the flames
poured into him almost immediately. He pulled her rapidly into a kiss, consuming as much of her power as he could. Faintly, he heard her make a noise of protest, but it tasted too perfect for him to release her. She was too perfect. He wanted her tight against him, to feel her softness through the fires. They fell against a stack of shelves, where Artemi’s flames burned more fiercely as she wielded to stay the falling furniture. Her breasts were firm and hot beneath his hand, and he reached down to feel the heat between her legs. More - he needed so much more of her. When they slid to the floor, a thousand objects clattered noisily down with them. Morghiad climbed ever deeper into the flames, savouring them, feeding on the power he hadn’t known for decades. It was entirely different from Mirel’s - cleaner, harsher and wilder. Addictive.
“Is everything alri-” A man’s voice cut through the roar of the fires, jolting the lovers apart. “Oh.” Romarr’s square cheeks blushed and he strode quickly from the room.
Morghiad’s eyes moved back to his queen. Her fiery hair fanned about her on the floor, and her bodice was half-unlaced. He brushed a strand from her face. “I’m sorry.”
Artemi propped herselfup on her elbows. “Why?”
He kept his silence and lifted her to her feet.
She peered into his eyes with that deep stare of hers. “That was it, wasn’t it? The creature you were telling me about.”
Morghiad lifted her coat back onto her shoulders. “You see now? I have no control
over it. And it seems that it is not so afraid of you, after all.”
“It’s alright. There is nothing to be sorry for.” Artemi raised herself on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the lips. “We will find a way. Assuming we live through this battle.” She began re-lacing her bodice at the front. Morghiad had to force himselfto look away, and scanned the fallen debris of the keep. Several of the irreplaceable items had smashed across the stone tiles; the rest were strewn about in uneven rays. “The Heart?”
“It’s fine. I had just enough time to protect it.” She finished arranging her clothing and took his hand. “I’ll need some help with this.” Artemi immediately began to wield through him, and the ease with which she used his body as a conduit was somewhat unnerving. Thousands of forms sprung up simultaneously, raising the shelves and lifting the plethora of valuable items from the floor. He felt each of them through her: the cold metal of gold bowls, the glassy ceramics so thin they’d shatter with the slightest grip and a multitude of complex items that buzzed with a resonance of Blaze. A beautiful vase came together from its smashed remnants before his eyes, glowing amidst a cloud of blue energy - a puzzle that should
have taken weeks to solve. “How did you...?”
“Years of practice.”
A hundred more Blaze forms spun around the last of the objects before the keep was restored to its former order, and then only the Heart remained. “Come.” She broke contact with him and removed her short coat as she walked over to the glittering object. She
picked it up and wrapped it with the coat. “I’d like you to carry it for me. You must be careful not to touch it.”
“You trust me with this?”
“I do.” She held it out to him.
She was a fool for it, even with her years of knowledge - always trusting those she should not.
Hesitantly, he took the bundle with both hands. It seemed to throb within its coverings, and they still resonated with Artemi’s power.
“We have a meeting to attend. Let’s go to it.” She placed her hand on his arm as they departed, but he removed it so that he could hold her at her waist while he cradled the heart bundle in his other arm.
The guards eyed them both
suspiciously once they reached the cumbersome door. The gulfin their respective powers was no longer much of a secret, and Morghiad was well-aware that it concerned many of those who knew. Romarr appeared too embarrassed even to look at their faces.
The group ascended the innards of the castle in silence, with only occasional grins passing between the former king and his queen. Evidently Artemi had grown uncomfortable under those stares, for she ordered her guard to run ahead to the meeting. Some of the soldiers they passed in the hallways offered coy smiles of their own, others wide and blinking eyes.
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 90
