The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  He moved on to the next woman and released her in the same way. When he had

  unravelled the restraints of the third woman, he realised Artemi was staring at him. She smiled and came to stand at his shoulder.

  The newly freed Law-keepers gathered themselves into a semi-circle and eyed him suspiciously. A dark-haired woman spoke first, “Thank you, Darkworlder. Your skill is very...” she trailed off as her gaze moved to Artemi. The Law-keeper’s eyebrows rose in shock, her eyes appeared to flare with fire and her lips became thin with rage. “You have... defiled her!”

  Damn right he had. Morghiad suppressed a smirk.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done!” the grey-haired woman exclaimed.

  His queen interrupted their gasps of horror. “He has saved your lives and relieved

  us of Brindon. That man would have brought about the end of The Crux if it weren’t for my husband.”

  “Your husband?! Your husband!” The golden-haired keeper was very nearly frothing at the mouth. “Millennia of breeding, destroyed! Every one of your ancestors was firstborn of pure fires, and now this! And it cannot be undone!”

  Artemi placed her hands on her hips. “You all know very well it was a pointless rule whose meaning no one even really knows anymore! And if ever there was a threat to us all, it has just been excised. It is ended. Get on with your lives and I shall get on with mine.”

  Golden-hair clenched her jaw. “You and that disaster inside you cannot stay here. You are to go back to your new home

  immediately.”

  Inside her? Pregnant? Again? She might have warned him! Morghiad moved in front of his wife slightly, but Artemi moved out again to speak to her audience. “Then send us to our city.”

  “Fine,” the older woman said, folding her arms. “But when the world falls apart, and there’s no one to save it, count it as your own stupid, selfish fault!”

  When Morghiad blinked, he found himselfin the curiously lit woodland once more, with Artemi at his arm. He displayed his mild annoyance at her secrecy, and she responded with a very innocent shrug of her shoulders. Of course, sleeping with her hadn’t been an act that rendered her useless to them in itself. But he had fathered a child in her while she was in

  her true, Achellon body. And clearly that was something far-removed from the Darkworld shell she’d occupied before. Now the firstborn of the pure-fire kahriss would be partDarkworlder. They would need to employ more minders for this!

  “The rules are different here,” she said.

  “I gathered that.”

  “Are you angry with me?”

  He grinned broadly. “No. A daughter, you said?”

  “I suppose... yes, it will be. A wielder, of course.”

  “Are all wielders and vanha-sielu born of people from here?”

  Artemi laughed softly. “No. They are very much Darkworld things. Those are just the forms thatI best fit into. It is howI translate.”

  And then the light suddenly winked out. They were in utter darkness together. He clutched her against him, the power of the wielder inside her becoming more and more apparent. Artemi began to feel very cold, and so he wrapped his travel-worn coat around her. The light began to return, a pinprick of sunshine that grew to a tear in the black. They were cast through it roughly, but Morghiad caught his queen before she hit the white and glittering ground beyond. They’d landed in Gialdin’s gardens.

  As the king helped her to her feet, he swept her shining hair to her back. It fizzled with Blaze echoes against his hands. He leaned in to kiss her, but a cough to his left caught his attention. A huge crowd of people stood, in appreciable silence, staring at the pair of them.

  A tall pyre burned beyond, the smell of fireblossoms hung thickly in the air and everyone was dressed in uniforms or formal attire. They’d crashed into Artemi’s own funeral. He pulled his coat tighter around her and her body closer in an effort to protect her modesty, but he could still sense her embarrassment. Slowly, the assembled people dropped to their knees.

  What was he to say to them: sorry, she was only briefly dead? Or, stop the funeral, she’s back now and everything is fine? There were no words for the awkwardness they both felt.

  It was then that the welcome figures of Jarynd, Silar and Rahake came trotting through the bowed people.

  “Just wonderful timing,” Silar exclaimed. “Three days, I said. Three days!”

  “I was only gone for-”

  “Time here is different,” Artemi whispered.

  Silar’s sour expression melted at her words, and he embraced them both roughly. “Don’t ever leave me alone with your kid and your country ever again,” he said under his breath.

  “Good to have you back so soon. ThoughI must say you smell very wielder-y, my lady,” Jarynd said once Silar had stood back. A small frown crossed his brow.

  Artemi did not explain the reasoning for it, or why there were now two rather broad Blaze streams in the world. No doubt their daughter would be born at full potential, which could give rise to all sorts of problems. Morghiad added a kanaala to his mental list of

  minders.

  “Tem!” It was Toryn’s voice. He thundered into the group and stole his daughter from Morghiad’s grasp. Her father gave her one of his characteristically air-restricting hugs, tears streaming down his face. Morghiad was half-tempted to tell the man to be gentler, but decided against it. When Toryn had finished squeezing most of the breath out of Artemi, he glanced briefly at Morghiad before asking, “Was it his fault you left us?”

  Sheer exasperation and annoyance flooded Artemi’s features. “It was nothing to do with him! And no, there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.”

  The red-haired man nodded slowly and, after brief consideration, held his hand out to Morghiad. “For bringing her back.”

  Morghiad examined the hand in shock. Was this to be some sort of reconciliation, even acceptance? From the corner of his eye, he could see Silar had folded his arms and was looking expectantly at the two of them. It was an occasion so momentous there ought to have been fanfares and fireworks and dancing. But Morghiad took the hand and shook it solemnly. Perhaps now, after all their trials and difficulties and battles, they could have peace. He smiled, and felt laughter touch his sides. These would be good years indeed.

  Mirel stared up at the night sky, watching for stars that moved or bats that sought their prey. She loved the sounds of woodland, and the sense of being alone. Her father had been so overbearing, so worried about how she’d turn out. It was always, “Don’t do that – bad girls do that,” or, “Make friends with her, she’s nice... why don’t you behave more like her?” And then there was always, “Your mother would never have allowed that!” And so she’d finally decided enough was enough. He had never really felt

  like her true father anyway. She smiled at the stars. They had watched over her this last year, kept her safe and taught her the ways of survival. Stars were everywhere.

  It didn’t matter that she was still small and young. She was just tough enough, and that was all that was required. Mirel clambered under a dense bush and curled up, ready for sleep. But something moved in the shrubs beyond; something quiet and stealthy. It was too close for her to run.

  She became as still as a rock and waited while it approached. Four great paws the size of dinner plates padded into view, and long claws glittered at their fronts. The creature was vast, covered in black fur and bore a huge head. Mirel’s body shook with fear then, immediately alerting the panther to her

  presence. Its luminous, green eyes shone at her with hunger and excitement. She had no choice. She leapt out of the bush and ran toward the closest tree, hoping that her rapid climbing skills could save her. But, as her fingers touched the bark, she felt something impact on her shoulders. And then she was on the leaf-littered floor.

  She wanted her father, she realised, someone to scare away the dark monster. Why had she run away? If only he hadn’t said those things to her! The animal’s tee
th dug into her throat, but Mirel was only faintly aware of them, and she was too angry with the world to care.

  “You are beginning to show,” Morghiad said, grinning.

  Indeed she was. A small mound hid beneath her assassin’s bodice, hinting at her condition. Again. Not that it was much of a secret in the palace, anyway. Soldiers and servants alike knew by now how to read the signs from their king’s odd behaviour: the way he never left her side, or became irrationally protective and twitchy over the smallest things. But she had one more day where she could dress in the way that put her at ease, where she could carry weapons without drawing the glares of Mistress Onsa. And maybe, if she had time, she would be able to sit in the bar with several of the lieutenants this evening and enjoy a small drink. Not a proper drink, just a moment of relaxation before her life became noisy and sleepless once more.

  Almost as soon as the thought of noise left her head, Tallyn and Medea came running in. “Mum, look what we found!” Her son opened his hand to reveal a shaking, wet mouse, which he then gave to her. The remnants of snow still melted from its back.

  “That’s delightful. Thank you.” She shot a puzzled glance to her husband, who merely smiled with pride.

  “Did you track it?” he asked the two children.

  They nodded excitedly. “And I caught it,” Medea announced with an air of achievement.

  “Yes, but you couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t tracked it,” Tallyn said, folding his arms. Their green eyes flared at each other for a moment, only relenting once they remembered their parents were present.

  “That is very impressive, both of you.” Artemi took her daughter’s hand and placed the wriggling mouse into it. “But you should release him where you found him. He probably has a family he needs to be with.”

  “Bloody blazes, mum, he’s getting strong now!” Medea looked pointedly at the her mother’s stomach.

  “Where did you learn language like that?!” Clearly these children had been spending far too much time with either Silar or Caala... or both. Medea looked a little apologetic, but not very. She was turning out to be very pretty, having inherited her father’s colouring entirely. In truth, she looked very much like the elder Medea. But, unlike the former queen, she was stubborn, wilful and argumentative - qualities that made Artemi very proud. And Tallyn, well he was already a young man with considerable maturity for his age, and fiercely protective of his sister. Both already excelled at the sword.

  “That is not how a kahriss speaks, young lady,” Morghiad added.

  Artemi hid the amusement she felt as best she could. He’d heard far worse from her

  over the years. She brushed her daughter’s ebony hair to one side. “But you are right. Your little brother will be as strong as Tallyn and your father.” Perhaps more so. Medea had been the first to identify that her mother was pregnant with another son, but she was as unusual as her parents. She’d formed fireballs of Blaze and drawn lightning from the sky at only a few weeks of age, and Morghiad had been forced to fence off her powers before she caused any damage.

  Artemi squeezed her two children before guiding them out of the chamber. “It is almost time for your lessons, and you need to put that creature back where you found it before they start.”

  They both pulled grimaces but left without argument, and she watched her cubs

  trot down the hallway with Danner behind them. Light of Achellon, but they loped like cats next to the wolf!

  Morghiad came to stand beside her. “Medea may have my hair, but she looks and acts more like you every day.”

  “You have given me two very beautiful children, Morghiad of House Jade’an. I know the third will be the same.” They had postponed his conception for a few years, partly because they had become separated during the Kemeni Revolution, in that cold winter of 3253. But mostly his arrival had been delayed because Artemi was afraid. Three children were all her dream had predicted. After that, she could not guarantee her husband would live. I will give you an army of children to protect you once I am gone, he

  had said. She hated thinking of it, but it plagued her mind now more than ever. And Mirel - she was a looming problem that would return at any time. They’d never succeeded in finding her, though Morghiad said her stream was not yet mature enough to be visible.

  “Kalad and I do not appreciate thoughts like those,” her husband whispered. Her second son was indeed fluttering about inside her, too small yet to properly kick. Morghiad took her by the shoulders. “Stop worrying. That is an order.”

  Artemi folded her arms and pulled a face at him. Why did he always insist on policing her thoughts? And how did he manage to stay so calm and content all the time? It just wasn’t normal! It could only mean he was hiding his concerns from her again, and she’d

  warned him about doing that. “I must go and see Rahake about those patrols. I assume you’ll be joining me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”

  Warmth emanated from the walls at this time of year, keeping the white city of Gialdin comfortable against the freezing ice and snows that lay atop it. She couldn’t hear Morghiad behind her at all, but she could feel his presence and the way the air moved softly about him. She also sensed his admiring thoughts as he viewed her from the rear. When she turned to face him, he continued to stride gracefully toward her. His cloak swirled soundlessly behind him, and his hair wavered softly as he moved. Irritatingly good-looking. He gave her one of his smiles, and her annoyance was gone. “You are impossible.” She took his arm as they walked.

  “I am not a Farhid of Achellon.”

  Artemi rolled her eyes. Nor was she, technically. Just a queen of Gialdin - one of its many, many queens.

  Rahake was pacing his offices when they arrived, clearly having waited some time. He was always unfeasibly prompt. “Ah.” He greeted them with one of his wise grins. Artemi still felt like a child next to him, though she was probably ten or twenty times as old. “How is our queen progressing? Well, I hope?”

  Artemi gritted her teeth. “Fine, thank you. Some secret this is.”

  “It is my business to know such things, my lady.”

  “You are sounding more like Silar by the day.”

  He sat against his desk and rubbed at his dark-skinned chin. “Ah, well. That’s no bad thing, is it? Now, I would like to propose we discuss recruitment before we speak of patrol divisions.” He pulled out a neat collection of documents. “We’ve had a recent resurgence in applications to join the army. I would like to amend the tests a little in order to deal with this.” Always so organised.

  Morghiad stayed close while they made their plans, rarely stepping in to offer his own thoughts. He walked the perimeter of the room numerous times, checked the windows, stared at the ceiling and leant against the wall to spin his daggers. He was unusually restless during their discussion.

  When they’d finished with arranging patrols, Rahake finally lost his patience. “My

  lady, your husband’s pacing is making me rather anxious.”

  Artemi sighed. “Let him continue a while longer. He feels he needs to do it.”

  Morghiad gave them both a wry look, and returned to his dagger spinning. He felt very... alert, she realised. There was something they both sensed, or perhaps she sensed that he was reacting to.

  “Rahake, there is a discord somewhere in the castle. I want you to have the men scour it. And have Tallyn and Medea taken to a safe place.”

  Morghiad immediately stopped all movements, and his attention fully focussed on her.

  In silence, Rahake nodded and swiftly left the room.

  In those seconds, Morghiad’s wariness had risen to muscle-freezing heights. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. It just feels... wrong.” She put her hand against the wall and searched through it. She wasn’t permitted to wield with Kalad inside her, but she could still sense things. And she did sense something very dark within Gialdin’s crystalline walls.

  Her husband’s hand
wandered to his sword as soon as he felt the things she did. “Right. You’re coming with me. Now.”

  “We can’t leave everyone else to fight whatever this is. They’ll need us.”

  He took hold of her arm firmly and gave her his no-argument eyes. “Artemi, I love you but I will render you unconscious if it means I can keep you and my son from getting yourselves killed.”

  She frowned at him. She may have been pregnant, but she was still strong and fast enough to overpower him if it came to a fight.

  He folded his arms and his emerald eyes burned even more fiercely. His river had turned to an immovable pile of stones.

  “Fine! Alright. But you can’t be stupid either, remember?”

  Morghiad nodded quickly and led her out of the room. They moved swiftly down to the lower section of the palace and into the throne room, where Morghiad started barking orders at the various guards. The vast hall’s walls glimmered with flecks of gold and streaks of blue light as he moved smoothly around it. They had danced together many times here, and even done some rather less-acceptable

  dancing on one drunken night. “Overgrown teenagers!” Caala had declared when she’d found them naked and snoring behind the thrones. But she could hardly comment. Most of the city knew of her continued affair with Lord Not-So-Righteous Cayvil.