The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  The morning light sparkled against the miniature flecks of dust that floated above Morghiad’s eyes: new eyes that were free to look upon gratification and beauty. And that beauty slept soundly in his arms. He lifted a hand to stroke her hair, calming himselfwith the familiar fizz of the red-gold fibres against his skin. Her bottom was hot and firm against his heavy erection, and he desperately wanted to make her scream and yell and claw at the bed clothes again. But the battle outside demanded his time, and so did his responsibilities. Artemi had been very sly in forcing him to re-assume his role as king, very manipulative and very lovable. She stirred in his arms and then turned to face him. “You waited for me.”

  “At the exit? No sense inyou running

  all that way.”

  She grinned broadly. “That’s not whatI meant. I meant you waited for me... all those years.”

  “I was ready to do it again.”

  Artemi reached up to brush his stubble. He felt an odd sort of sadness from her. “I am sorry I was not there.”

  Pulling her close, he whispered, “It was worth every minute for this.”

  Her smile was perfect and beautiful. “Well, that is a relief.” She grinned at her own joke for a moment, but the humour rapidly faded. “Is that thing... the black river, is it there now?”

  “It’s gone, Artemi.”

  She scanned his eyes closely and nodded slowly. “We should get out of bed.”

  Morghiad only affected a grunting sound in response, and threw the sheets from their bodies. He did not particularly want to rise at this moment; any sighted man would much rather have lain with her all day. They dressed slowly while he waited for his excitement to dissipate. It had been a long while since he’d last had to concern himselfwith that particular problem, and Artemi’s flame burned with amusement at his predicament. It didn’t help that his queen had clothed herselfin the most curve-hugging items she could find, or that her breasts swelled deliciously at the top of her bustier.

  Within an hour they trod the hallways of the dark castle, where servants and soldiers paced the corridors in hurried anxiety. Artemi’s Sunidaran friends followed them closely, having assumed entirely Calidellian clothing and several of the manners. Only their ponytailed hair and accents gave away their nationality. Koviere joined them on the walk, lumbering along with his giant’s strides and confident swagger. He’d already donned the matte black shoulder armour - many of the soldiers had. Silar caught up with the growing company. He was wearing the black and silver plate that designated his rank. Morghiad did not miss Artemi’s bout of appreciation at the sight, though he did not resent it. There was no denying the general’s looks.

  “Good to see you’re both... awake.” Silar’s eyes narrowed at Morghiad, clearly examining for signs of eisiel demi-death.

  Morghiad stopped and placed a hand at Artemi’s waist. “Thank you, Silar. When is

  our response due to reach Xarrelsar?”

  “This afternoon, two hours after midday. That’s as long as we can procrastinate before they get itchy bow-fingers.”

  “Good,” the queen said, “I’d like to lace the city with a few surprises of my own.”

  Silar looked as if he were about to take one of his lingering leers at her chest, but quickly thought better of it. He’d probably anticipated Morghiad’s reaction. “Very well. Why are your special friends still asleep?”

  “The Kusurus?” Artemi smiled a slow smile. “They’d have spent all night working through those Blaze tools in the keep. Surely you’d know that?”

  “I have to keep my mind clear of useless visions; there’s a whole, follocking Hirrahan country living in there right now!” He

  did look a little weary, now that Morghiad looked more closely.

  “I see. Tallyn and the others will come to us when we need them. My lord.” She turned her face to Morghiad. “I think it’s time you dressed to inspire a little shock and awe.”

  They certainly would get a shock when they saw him sacrifice his city for his own, pathetic life. “Let’s go.”

  Morghiad held the chest plate in position while Artemi buckled the straps tightly at the sides of his torso. He’d stripped his coat and shirt off in anticipation of the day’s heat, and the armour already begun to cling to his bare skin. He looked over his shoulder at the mirror and realised that the edges of the Sete’an crest would be visible to all at his back. Acher had left him with a great many scars,

  though that one was only the shallowest of them. The queen moved to assess him from the front. In truth, he felt ridiculous. A Kusuru would never wear a scrap of metal in battle, and certainly not something so ornate or ostentatious. The dark green plate was etched with gold and silver filigree, weaving in patterns as complex as the vines of the throne. Blazes, he’d never see that throne again after this. And good riddance to its dark, oppressive and strangling vines! His attention was rapidly distracted by the mood of his queen, however, as a flood of sexual excitement ignited her flame.

  “You look good,” she said quite innocently.

  “You like this?”

  Artemi raised an eyebrow. “King

  Xarrelsar would like this. Fires of Achellon...” Her thoughts, whatever they were, were not clean. “We should... ah, we should go.” She nodded to herself absently and chewed her lip.

  Morghiad strapped his two swords to his back, placing the one that had dispatched Acher as the lead weapon. The daggers and short sword were added before he took up his bow, kissed Artemi and led her out of the room. “Wait.”

  He ran back in then, and picked up a long, black lacquered object. “Keep this with you,” he said to her when he returned. “Even if you just strap it to the horse. It’s been oiled through your absence.”

  She lifted her old sword with a chuckle. “This was a very excellent blade, my heart. I will do as you ask.” It clinked against his

  father’s dagger as she tied it to her waist.

  Riding upon Tyshar, he did not leave her side as she and Arrow galloped around the four gates of the city, laying the traps and barriers that had been planned during the previous evening. Some of them looked more lethal than Mirel’s most malicious efforts. Others, he could not fathom at all. The city was virtually empty now, and eerily quiet. Only soldiers dressed in long, dark green tunics wandered the streets on their polished horses. It was then that three very shadowy figures and a golden-haired wielder drew near. Selieni appeared to give him a very wide-eyed look indeed, which drew a further look of confusion from Romarr. Morghiad felt a surge of amusement from Artemi, and a certain degree of... was it... pride?

  Tallyn offered his usual pleasantries, “Morning, both. Who’s a pretty boy, then? Tem, I-”

  “Speak to me however you wish, but you will refer to her as my queen or my lady,” Morghiad instructed. He was beginning to tire of the Calbeni’s attempts to prove his familiarity with Artemi.

  Her emotions jarred into discomfort then, but Morghiad ignored it and held his gaze with Tallyn.

  The other man looked as if he were about to slit Morghiad’s throat, though his features softened rapidly. “My queen... and king, we’ve found some tools which should be of considerable use to you... and us.”

  “What are they?”

  Tallyn and Vestuna reined in closer.

  “These ones are for kanaala. They make all sorts of fun flame things.” Three white flowers, seemingly carved from stone, rested in the palm of Vestuna’s hand.

  Morghiad’s curiosity peaked. “You can wield with them?”

  “Hah,” Vestuna laughed, “No woman needed. These are very rare objects indeed, but they usually have a small capacity for power.”

  “And this one...” Tallyn pulled a smooth, blue object out of his pocket. It looked to have been carved in the shape of a fireball. “...This is one of Achellon’s tears.” He dropped it into Artemi’s hand.

  “Blazes.” Her fires started to rage within her as soon as the crystalline flame touched her skin. They seemed... eager for
>
  escape. “What do you think would happen if I used this with The Heart?”

  Tallyn’s already-dark features became a shade darker. “No. Don’t be stupid.” He turned to Morghiad. “Don’t – my lord, please do not allow your queen to do that.”

  “He’s right. Now is not the time for experimenting with something so dangerous.”

  Artemi made a face, her headstrong nature making itselfknown again. Blazes, no marriage, memory or age could ever tame her!

  “Artemi,” he said firmly.

  She looked at it hungrily but, after brief hesitation, handed it back to Tallyn. “Fine. Give it to Demeta. She is experienced enough to handle it. Did you find anything else of use?”

  Vestuna shook his cloud-haired head. “Not weapons. Tools for making things or

  teaching or recording voices. We had them evacuated with the rest of the people.”

  “Thank you.” She looked around at the towering layers of houses, now silent and dark. “You ought to find your places with the wielders now. We’ve only two hours left.”

  “You’ll need this first,” Tallyn said with a smirk. He handed her an object wrapped in black, and Morghiad could feel it thumping away in her grasp. Vestuna handed the king one of the flame-maker flowers, which felt like a living piece of a weak wielder in his hand.

  “Stay alive, all of you.” Worry drenched Artemi’s thoughts when her eyes landed on Tallyn.

  Had she seen something else in that foretelling dream of hers?

  The three Kusurus and wielder

  galloped over the hump of a curved street, before disappearing into the vast, green network of the city. Their hoof-falls rocked against the stone noisily.

  “That was brave,” Artemi said quietly.

  He gave her a questioning look.

  “Tallyn does not like authority, and certainly not kings who tell him how to address his friends.” She smiled.

  “Then he is not dissimilar to you.”

  Artemi chortled with genuine amusement. “And somehow you have a way of making us both listen.”

  “I try,” he said wryly. Rarely did it have much effect. “Time to see how the Sunidarans are doing with their new army.” The former lieutenants had been given charge of all the citizens who’d volunteered to fight. With any

  luck, they’d have found them swords or bows or blunt objects by now.

  The volunteers were hacking and jabbing at each other in practice when he and Artemi arrived. Arrian appeared to be directing a rushed course in fighting for the men and women. There were rather a lot of women, Morghiad noted. Marynia, Beodrin’s widow, was enthusiastically thrusting a long-staff into the stomach of her opponent, her dark hair shining in the sun. Blazes, but he didn’t want her life on his conscience! The pale blond hair of a lanky man distracted him though, and his heart sank as he recognised its owner. Morghiad rapidly dismounted from Tyshar and marched up to the lad. Artemi’s brother spun round when he noticed the wide eyes and bows of everyone around him.

  Morghiad folded his arms. “Does your father know you are here?”

  The young Silar’s, or Sidav’s, cheeks flooded with embarrassment, though his jaw remained firm. “I am a better swordsman than most army recruits!”

  Morghiad leaned in close to whisper. “That you may be, but you are far too young for this. Leave here and look after your little sister.”

  “And what about my older one?”

  “I will take care of her. Please, just go before she sees you. And before Toryn sees you.” It was too late. He could already feel her eyes at his back.

  “Like you took care of her before? You let that bastard king kill her!”

  Morghiad didn’t know what to say. He had no excuse for what had happened. He bit down on his guilt and offered a response, poor as it was, “And now I must not allow another king to kill members of her family. Go.”

  Sidav threw his practice sword down in anger, and stomped from the courtyard. Wonderful. Yet another member of the D’Avrohan family who hated him. How long before Talia spat on his name, too?

  Artemi’s face was stony, though the flame that represented her emotions flared with approval and relief. “If I were him,” she said as Morghiad remounted his horse, “I would stay and hide, and join the battle when I thought no one was looking.”

  “I’ll have the lieutenants keep an eye out for him.”

  She nodded and moved her gaze to the

  castle gateway, where General Forllan and Rahake had just ridden in.

  “Time to deliver a message,” Silar announced.

  “Then let’s be ready for them,” Artemi replied, her voice sounding as formidable as any warrior queen’s.

  The first volleys of arrows were easy enough to repel from the grand height of the Cadran walls. They’d slowed to an ineffective speed once they’d reached the top, and Morghiad found himselfprimarily occupied with quashing wielder fire. Streaks of flame pounded the air at the periphery of the weather-worn wall walkway, but that’s as near as they came. A chain of kanaala around the city worked to deconstruct each form before it could do any damage, and an interspersed chain of

  Calidellian wielders dealt some destruction of their own. Demeta’s flames were obvious, even from the other side of the city. Her Tear of Achellon had created something rather deadly from her fires: a sort of purple, twisting tornado of wild heat. Artemi threw great sheets of fire and ice at the soldiers below them, and Morghiad was glad to share in the thrill she drew from it. It was not without its drawback, however, as the resulting smoke was already coalescing into a wispy, white fog that obscured their view.

  From below came the distant thump of battering rams against the outer gates.

  “We don’t have much longer before they break through,” Artemi warned, hurling another strike of lightning at the army below.

  The cloud of smoke was becoming

  obstructive... and also beneficial. “Time to set up that shield. Link!” The order was shouted along the entirety of the city defences and, while each kanaala continued to repel Blaze attacks, they took the hand of their proximate wielder. “Together we are greater than the sum of our powers,” Artemi had explained. And so together they would build a shield stretching the circumference of Cadra. Arcs of Blaze rapidly began to shoot between the wielders and kanaala as each one handed their power to the next. When all were ready, he took Artemi’s hand and sought the raging fires inside her. They bobbed and darted about wildly, but once he held them, they tore into his body. And then he was given control of everything. It wasn’t that he held more Blaze, rather that he was aware of more of it. He could see an

  ocean of it. “Light of Ach-”

  “Morghiad!” Artemi was shouting at him, and as she did, a large fireball roared towards them. He acted with barely enough time to prevent it from landing. Morghiad shook his head as if made drunk by the power he’d been given, and began to form the shield.

  Sweat was pouring down his arms and torso by the time he came to complete the vast Blaze form. Its sheer size had made it wobble and twist as he’d tried to set in place, but Artemi had been emphatic that he continue. She seemed convinced that he was the one to do it, though he felt somewhat embarrassed about his clumsy wielding before her and her vanha-sielu comrades. In any case, the shield was done, and the fireballs went on to hit its glittering structure. Dizziness stormed through

  his body as the other wielders withdrew their fires from him, but when Artemi released him, he felt all strength drain from his body. He dropped to the worn, stone pathway in a shameful heap.

  Alarm shot through Artemi’s mind, and she leapt to catch his shoulders. “Are you alright? Blazes, what you did was incredible... and fast! Morghiad?” She gripped him tightly, grinning. The world was swirling as if he’d eaten a cactus.

  “Clumsy...” was all he could utter.

  “Not in the slightest. You’ll be fine in a moment. Sergeant, some water! And you, help me with the king!”

  A young soldie
r came to lift him to his feet, and another poured warm water down his throat. Slowly, his strength returned to him. His whole body was slaked with sweat; what a sight he must have been for his countrymen!

  “We need to be down there when they storm the last gates,” Artemi said as she guided him towards the stairwell. The walkway was fast draining of people now that the shield was in place. It wouldn’t hold forever, but long enough to protect the battlements while the Calidellians retreated to the castle. He stumbled down the steps with his queen at his side, feeling more lucid with each footfall. The thuds beneath them were growing louder as they descended.

  They passed the prisons, now empty of their criminals. A great deal of chain had been necessary to ensure the safe evacuation of those particular individuals, and several of Cadra’s lifting mechanisms would never work

  again as a result. Thud thud THUD. The Hirrahans were getting closer to breaking through. It wouldn’t be long before he met the Hirrahan sword fodder, before he sank them beneath a burning wall of fire. When he stepped out of the iron gate at the wall’s base, he saw the greater part of Calidell’s army standing before him. In the towering buildings about him, he could hear the movements of a thousand waiting men - part of Koviere’s bombing forces.

  “Keep that area clear!” Artemi yelled to the burgeoning battalion. They were standing dangerously close to one of her nastier traps. She clutched Morghiad’s arm as he strode towards Tyshar.