There was a long, uncomfortable period of silence as they descended the shining, white steps to the lower levels.
Hedinar finally stopped and turned to face them. “So she is alive?”
“I suppose so. Just... young,” Artemi said.
The general moved his eyes to his son. “And your men are still looking for this... girl?”
The kahr nodded. “Speak to Beodrin Mori. I put him in charge of them.”
“Beodrin?” She grinned broadly. “How is the old captain?”
“Not a captain,” Hedinar murmured. “And not likely to be after keeping such secrets from me.”
Morghiad hissed with exasperation. “He was just doing as I asked.”
Their argument dissolved to silence once more, and they made their way to the stable yard without further comment. Hedinar seemed to glare darkly, arms folded, as they mounted their respective horses. Artemi couldn’t help but gaze at Morghiad, who was seated on a sleek, white stallion. Not Tyshar. It seemed wrong somehow. “You should get yourself a blood horse.”
He appeared almost offended. “What’s wrong with Valin?”
“Nothing. He’s just very - it doesn’t matter.”
Hedinar stepped forward once
they were ready to go. “How long do you expect this sojourn to take, Lieuten - ah - Lady Fireblade?”
“Two days each way, Bridges prevailing. I cannot say how long it will take to persuade-” she stopped short of saying my son, “-him to return with us. Assuming he is where I think he is.” And that he had survived. Blazes, what if something had happened to him? She worked quickly to suppress that worry. “Don’t worry, Hedinar, I am eager to return to my own children, and will make this as swift as possible.”
The general nodded with a frown. “Be gone, then. I’ll see that my
wife is suitably placated before you get back.”
They wheeled their mounts round, and booted them into a canter. Artemi was pleasantly surprised at the racer she’d been given: its stride was long and smooth, its gait powerful and robust. Morghiad rode behind her as they worked their way through the bustling streets of colour, inappropriate thoughts frequently flashing through his river of emotions. She had missed those leering stares of his.
They crossed through the white gates and into the glowing woodland, pushing to a sprint down the well-worn
road. After a mile, Artemi built a scouting form that glittered warmly with azure light and sent it looking for a Sky Bridge. It found the one she was searching for almost instantaneously, and she headed straight for it by cutting through the forest undergrowth.
The clearing that presented itself before her was an obvious clue to the presence of a Bridge gate. Though people could quite easily walk through them in ignorance, no plant could ever grow into the forms and thrive. Artemi thrust herself into The Blazes to draw more of the fires out, and formed the necessary key from their heat.
Morghiad’s curiosity spiralled. “What is tha-?”
The fronds of purple fire-light crept into being as she touched them, arcing round to form an entrance of luminous ivy. “This is a Sky Bridge. They are very old and, even here, they are heavily degraded. But they will take us to our destination in very little time. Follow me.”
She could feel his surprise as they walked through, and his growing curiosity at the forms that made the structure. He brushed a hand against one of the walls. “Gialdin is old, too. Why doesn’t it feel like the energy in
this?”
Artemi shook her head. “I don’t know. A kind of rot has set in here. It will not hold much more than nine riders safely. And, in a few years, that number will drop to eight.” She pushed her horse into an easy gallop, clambering into the cold spring skies with air-hungry strides. Two more Bridges followed, and they chased the sun westwards before they reached the dry mountains of Northern Tegra. “We should stop here for the night. It’ll get very cold as soon as the sun sets.”
He smiled cryptically. “I shall see to it that you stay warm.”
A nearby overhang in the blueish-grey rocks served as shelter, and soon a roaring fire burned before them. Artemi bundled herself up next to her lover and pulled a second blanket across them. Blasted lands! These were colder than the Kemeni mountains, even in the absence of snow! Artemi returned her thoughts to those of her counterpart. “How did you know she was in The Crux?”
“My sister warned me in a dream. Except it wasn’t her, it was someone else wearing her face.” He shifted so that he could nuzzle Artemi’s hair. His voice was a whisper. “I
refused to leave that light world Achellon - without you. You – the other you said she didn’t want to be rescued, but I wanted her here more than anything. I didn’t give her a choice. And then, when we were back, she said something to me before she left.” Morghiad bit his lip before continuing, “Promise never to come looking for me again. I broke that promise to her. I saw her stream vanish so soon after she came back from Achellon. I half thought the Lawkeepers had taken her again. I was... worried about what had happened to her. I had to search.”
“She will forgive you for it in an instant.” Artemi touched his short waves of jet-black hair, relishing their dark brand of softness.
He took her hand and clasped it in his. “You are too cold.” Morghiad kissed her fingers, before moving to her neck. He pulled the blankets over their heads and unlaced the front of her bodice carefully. His hands touched her breasts through the fabric of her shirt, and she could feel his desire for her pressing against the inner of her thigh. Her hunger was as great as his. Artemi unbuckled his belt hurriedly, and pulled her own clothing out of the way. He
submitted to her slowly, hotly, releasing raging fires that tore up and down her entire body with fearful intensity. Her heart would never burn like this again, not for anyone. She clutched his shoulders, and they made love, partially dressed, until exhaustion overtook them.
Her dreams afterward were strange and fractured. She was herself, and yet she was not. In one of them she was riding though a Sky Bridge. She felt weary and upset about something, though what it was she couldn’t quite recall. Night had set in, and she pushed her horse hard to run
for the Bridge’s end. Stars shone their implacable light around her. Below, the clouds roiled and flashed with their hidden lightning. She knew that rain lashed the oceans beneath: a summer storm that no one but herself was witness to. Her journey was almost over, but she feared it would end in failure. She longed for Morghiad with an ache that kept her body from succumbing to its exhaustion, but it was an ache that made death seem welcome. Artemi could not die, not yet. A movement in her abdomen caught her thoughts, and she reached to her rounded stomach to acknowledge
it. “Not far now.” The horse careered back into the angry clouds, and down through the pelting rain. They crossed miles of empty, black seas, and then the lights came. Twinkling and orange, they were a very warm, welcome sight to Artemi. Fury Point.
She should not have been wielding, but she had no choice in this instance and had waited long enough besides. She formed the exit key from as little Blaze as she could muster. The end gate sprang open behind a harbour wall, and she found herself gazing at a row of spiked, rocking warships. The rain still plummeted from the skies
above, soaking her through as she turned to ride for the town proper. Before long, she came to disorganised rows of brightly lit shops and taverns. Artemi drew her cloak to hide her condition, and stopped at each inn to ask after their most famous citizen. “I’m looking for Tallyn Hunter,” she announced at the fourth.
A young warrior stood from his table. “Aye, and what a pretty little bedraggled thing you are. Why don’t you sit with me, warm up and I’ll tell you where he is?”
“Thank you, no. I need to find him as soon as possible.”
The hay-haired man stepped closer. Too close. “No girl. You’re with me tonight.”
Artemi reacted immediately, wrenching his arm out of joint and tripping him up ov
er a bar stool. “I want Tallyn Hunter!” she hissed. The man was wide eyed, terrified. It did give her some satisfaction to see that.
“Last saw him at the Sapphire Harbour. And if he’s not there you’ll find him on Boar Lane,” another Calbeni local said.
Good. That was all she needed. “Thank you.” Artemi spun round and departed rapidly. It was something of a mission re-mounting her horse with her weight so oddly distributed, but she did eventually manage it with a modicum of grace. When she reached The Harbour of Sapphires, a lone silhouette was immediately apparent beneath a wooden shelter. Relief washed over her in waves that matched the rhythm of the sea. She approached him without masking her footsteps. He was staring at the dark horizon, motionless. “Tal?” “I’ve waited a very long time for you to visit, my girl.” He said to the ocean. He turned slowly and cursed when his eyes found her. “You’re soaked!” He removed his coat to offer
her, but she found the world had grown too grey for her to accept. She was falling. His Kusuru reflexes caught hold of her before the ground did. “What happened to-?” His hand touched her abdomen. “Bloody t’anher an cunhadar! Oh... follocking, bloody Achellon!” More curses followed as she slipped into semi-consciousness.
“That is not a state I ever expected to see you in, my girl,” he said when she regained more lucidity. He’d taken her back to his home, and the sun glared through a window above her.
“No,” she acknowledged.
“Forgive me for burdening you with this, old friend, but you are the only one I trust.”
He harrumphed. “What happened to the father?”
“Alive. He doesn’t know. And he can’t find out until I return.” Especially not since one night with her in this world would make him an eisiel, but her friend didn’t have to know that.
Tallyn pulled a hard frown and came to sit on the edge of the bed she lay on. “I know better than to ask why. How many days have you to go?”
“Four.”
His olive eyes narrowed. “Are
you sure? You look as if you’re ready...”
Artemi glowered at him. “Thank you for reminding me, I hadn’t noticed I was the size of a horse! Four days,” she said firmly.
The Calbeni sighed. “And you want me to look after this... beast you’re growing?”
This was the part she had so feared going wrong. “I trust you above all others, but if you cannot manage alone I would ask you to find him a
family. Someone who will love him.” “He should be with his father,
Tem.”
“No. His father has his own life. I did very a selfish thing in conceiving the child. This would break the father’s heart and... if Mirel ever found out...” She took a breath. “He is from an important family and must forge a future apart from mine. I simply cannot interfere with that, or go against my oath any more than I already have. Not I, and not my child.”
Tallyn frowned but nodded after some brief introspection. He agreed to take her son on as his own, and wait for her return. Over the next four days he fussed over her, and her child grew ever stronger. Her son’s presence kept
her free of nalka, though his powers rendered her tired and weak. She thought often of Morghiad, even composing letters of explanation to him, but she burned each one. No one would understand how the conception of her son could have occurred, and his illegitimacy would have marred the kahr’s good name. And if Mirel ever found them, she would surely destroy them both. On the fourth day, when she felt as if no pregnancy in history could ever have grown so huge as hers, she felt the first movements. They were soft, spiralling sensations at first, but they became more aggressive as the day moved to night. By the time the moon had risen, she was groaning with each one.
Her friend looked after her well. He did not stop talking to her for a moment, calming her with his soft, Calbeni tones. Another day passed. The agonies increased tenfold, and still her body was not sufficiently weakened enough to give birth. Artemi endured another half-day of this, until she conceded defeat.
“Stubborn,” Tallyn muttered as she handed him the knife. “There was no need for you to go through this for so long.”
That made her feel almost triumphant. “He has had two more days to grow stronger. Now cut.”
The assassin grimaced and tested the blade against her arm. It bled freely and did not heal. “Bloody...” his curses dissolved into mutters.
Artemi howled as another movement struck. She bit down on the handle of one of her daggers. “Do it now!” she yelled through her clenched teeth.
Tallyn began to cut and, strangely, the pain of it was a release against the agony of everything else. He worked very quickly and smoothly,
a practised hand at such tasks. And then he stopped, blinking. “Tem...”
She spat out the dagger. “What’s wrong?” She could feel that her son was still alive, still healthy. What had he seen? “What is it?”
Artemi awoke, breathing hard. She sat up, and found Morghiad was watching her quietly.
“You had a nightmare,” he said softly. “I tried to wake you from it.”
She moved her hand to her stomach. It felt flat and hard, empty. She threw off the blankets and laced up her clothing. A good pace and a think were needed. The ground was frozen by the chills of the night, but the sun was rising to the east. It would be very hot here, very soon. She walked the perimeter of their shelter, feeling the kahr’s unmoving gaze upon her. Artemi took a deep breath. “I think... I think I have her memories.”
“Really? So you saw...?”
She nodded and swallowed. “Yes. I think so.”
Morghiad stood and approached her. “Tell me.”
It was a monster, she had thought. A great, screaming thing with too many arms and legs. But Tallyn had untangled the wriggling forms with a grin, and then he’d calmly placed them in her arms. Two boys; twins. Artemi met eyes with her kahr. She smiled. “She made it to Fury Point in time. We’re on the right track.”
“Alright, anything else? What was... I mean – how...? What did she call him?”
“Them.”
He frowned. “What sort of name is that?”
Artemi laughed aloud. “No. She had twin boys, my heart. Their names are Syriad and Ne’alin.”
“What?”
“You appear to have fathered two sons at once.” It was strange how she felt at those words. All of the other Artemi’s emotions had accompanied her memories and, in truth, this Artemi felt as if they were her sons.
Morghiad blinked at her for a moment, utterly stupefied. “You have to make everything that little bit more difficult, don’t you?” he said at last.
She shrugged. “It’s hardly my fault.”
“How am I supposed to ingratiate myself with two teenage boys? Tell me that!”
Artemi placed her hands on her hips. “I didn’t ask to be rescued from The Crux! I’m sorry if it’s not what you would have ordered from your menu of ideal children, but that’s what came out of me! And you’ll be fine with them. They’re your blazed kids,
after all. You could show a little gratitude for all that I went through to keep the lot of you alive.” She went to fold up her blanket, feeling her own annoyance mirrored in his emotions.
“So you did suffer. I knew it.” His fears were instantly drowned by a slew of guilt. “Artemi...” He removed the bedding from her hand. “I am sorry I was not there. I truly am.” The kahr pulled her into a tight embrace, muffling her protests at his apologies. It was a while before he allowed her to escape.
When the tears had dried and their moods settled they remounted
their horses and returned to the hot air of the Sky Bridges. The sun set, and Artemi found herself riding the same Bridge her other self had crossed nearly fifteen years earlier. The approach to the twinkling lights of Fury Point was the same, though the rain was blessedly absent. The city proper was a place of deep red stone, sharp angles and blackvein mortar. It did look very... angry. They rode through the sc
arlet streets, horses’ shod hooves clattering on the worn granite, and made their way to Tallyn’s old house. It was vacant when they arrived, and looked to have been empty for a long time. “Well, that’s no
surprise,” Artemi said coolly. “Hardly space in there for three men. Let’s ask around.”
She dismounted, and was immediately met by a man with haycoloured hair. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he ran in the other direction.
Morghiad’s green eyes spoke of curiosity, to say the least.
Two hours of questioning Tallyn’s former neighbours brought them to a farm on the outskirts of the city, but Artemi was careful to walk its perimeter before knocking on any doors. She and her kahr scrambled up
the side of a hill to gain better a view of the farmhouse, and she immediately knew they’d come to the right place. Two very young men were throwing clods of mud at each other, clearly having given up on their ploughing for the day. They were not identical, however. One bore dark blond hair and sun-darkened skin. The other was fairer, but with hair more like his father’s. Artemi knew they were her sons, but that was not the end of it. Also taking part in the mud fight was a young girl, and her hair shone a fiery gold in the sun.
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