Morghiad turned to her. “That’s
you – I mean, her.” His river of emotions twisted with an awkward kind of confusion: a division of loyalties.
She nodded. “It would be unwise for her to see me, I think. I should leave.”
He blinked. “What? And leave me to sort this out on my own? I don’t even know this... Talon or whatever he’s called.”
Artemi chewed her lip. “Alright. I’ll speak to him, but I could risk triggering her memories early. You’ll need to draw Tallyn away somehow.” She cast her eyes back down to the holding, where The Hunter had already
come out to reprimand the misbehaving youths.
“As you instruct, my queen.” The kahr stood suddenly, making himself very visible, and withdrew his sword.
What was the idiot doing?! She tried to hiss at him to hide himself, but he stood steadfast like a practice target for arrows. Where had he picked up this ridiculous brand of arrogance? She peeked over the edge of the hill. Tallyn had seen him now, and was headed directly for them. He did not look very pleased. “Sheathe your sword, idiot!” Artemi spat from her hiding place.
Morghiad ignored her.
And age seemed to pass, in which Artemi’s heart beat progressively faster with anxiety and her old friend drew closer. Thankfully, Tallyn had the sense to stop before he did anything especially deadly. “I thought you would turn up one day,” Artemi heard him say. “Would you like to meet them? I’m afraid I haven’t been able to tell them much about you, but I guessed you might have eyes like that.” The assassin could never be called unobservant.
She could feel the kahr’s urge to accept the invitation, but she also felt
the mental force he used to ignore it. “I brought you out here to meet another. Follow me,” he instructed.
Artemi could imagine Tallyn’s expression at those words, but the constructed image was soon presented in reality before her. “Tal.” She smiled warmly.
Anger flashed across his dark features. “What is this?”
Morghiad cleared his throat. “This is Artemi, only she’s a slightly different one to the girl you have with my... with my sons.”
She stood to grip hands with her old friend. “See for yourself.”
He took her fingers gingerly, flames sprouting from his contact. “Bloody light- how has this happened?”
Artemi said softly, “Gateway to a different world; different possibilities. Morghiad can tell you. Anyway, it gave me the opportunity to unite a father with his children. And his wife, apparently. Speaking of which, just how do those boys know her?”
An odd sort of smile worked across Tallyn’s features. “They believe she is their mother’s little sister. Best way to avoid any... awkward relationships”
Artemi nodded. “And yet they will still know each other. I’m very grateful, Tal.”
He offered a small bow.
She turned to her lover. “You should go to them now. I will meet you back in Gialdin before I go.”
The kahr’s eyes filled with a bitter water. “Aren’t you going to speak to them?”
“They are not my children. They’re hers.”
“Your heart is telling me something else.”
Artemi compressed her lips. “Then it is best that I do not deepen
my attachment to them. I’ll meet you back in Gialdin. Tallyn, I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. No doubt my counterpart will be in your debt for an eternity.”
“Nonsense, Tem. It was and is my pleasure.”
She nodded, but knew that the young girl beyond the hill would one day throw herself prostrate on the floor in thanks. “Goodbye for now.” Artemi turned and loped back to her horse, feeling the hurt that blossomed in her lover’s heart. She pressed hard to return to Gialdin ahead of the others, but made good time without killing her
mount. Within a day and a half she’d arrived, and Medea and Hedinar were waiting for her. There followed an expected set of questions over Morghiad’s absence.
“There was a complication,” she explained. “The other Artemi is with them, and I cannot risk her seeing me. They are already on their way here.” She could now feel Morghiad riding hard to return, though he felt so distant.
Medea’s sublime face frowned at her again. Hedinar had done an admirable job of preparing his wife with the news, but her eyes still glittered with knives at each of
Artemi’s words. Blazes, why were parents always so disapproving? Would she grow the same daggers of disapproval when her son began courting?
“He has one of the world’s best assassins with him. They are in good hands.”
The Queen of Gialdin sniffed. “And what are we to do with this young woman – this other Artemi? It would hardly be proper to marry her to my son at such a young age.”
The red-haired woman blinked. “No. Tallyn Hunter will care for her. She won’t be any trouble.” Hopefully.
“But a part of her knows the twins are hers. I would ask that you do not separate them.”
“We are not cold-hearted Sete’ans, Artemi!” Hedinar huffed.
“Good,” she said forcefully. “I’ve suffered more than enough of their cruelties already.” That put a shocked expression on the faces of her in-laws.
Medea approached her quietly, her features softening. “Artemi, sweetheart. You have given so much to our family. In truth, I am more upset that our son felt he could not tell us he cared for you. We will see that your
family here is kept together, and kept happy.”
Artemi blinked as she embraced the infinitely more beautiful woman. Her surprise melted into a smile. “Morghiad will not allow anything else. You will see.”
The queen’s features moved to puzzlement, but she nodded sagely after a moment.
In time Artemi was permitted to stumble to her bed, where she fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep. She dreamt of nothing and felt nothing through it, simply the void of restful ignorance. Of course, it did not end with a simple
awakening, for Morghiad was lying next to her when she opened her eyes.
“Do you make a habit of sneaking into women’s bedrooms?”
“Only the ones I love,” he said softly.
Artemi smiled. “You’re not tempted by the younger version, then?”
The kahr frowned at her. “She is pretty for a child. I love the woman.”
“And your sons?”
He grinned. “They have Calbeni accents! Syriad seems to have grown into my father, and Ne’alin is convinced he can read the entirety of Gialdin’s library in a day.”
She wanted to know them too. But that would have served no one, and only caused more pain for all. “I need you,” she croaked.
Morghiad pulled her onto his chest, pinning her hips against his. “And you have me.” He held her until their proximity became a frustration, and Artemi was forced to make good use of him yet again. The morning light was too rapid to arrive when they’d finished their pleasures, but she forgave it. It meant she was one day closer to returning to her children. Fire of fires, let them be alright when she returned! Morghiad felt her worries, of course,
and he rapidly came to understand how his embraces and kisses eased them. He and Artemi bathed together and dressed slowly, eking out each moment that could be reserved for themselves. And then they were walking the white corridors once more.
“It doesn’t seem that there is enough time to say goodbye to you.”
Artemi took hold of his arm. “This is not goodbye for you. Only for me – and I always knew this would be brief.” The hurt she felt from him was very real.
“Who is going to look after you there?”
She ran her fingers through a wandering wave of his jet hair. “I spent nearly ten millennia looking after myself.”
“Don’t try to pacify me with words about history, Artemi Fireblade. Things have changed. You have been forced to change.”
She sighed. “I have many friends. Koviere is among them. Do you know a Silar Forl
lan here?”
His eyes widened. “That drunken womaniser!”
Artemi frowned. “He’s quite a respected general in my world.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Morghiad’s jaw clenched.
“You know, you asked him to look after your children.” She grinned broadly at his new set of reactions.
“Was I insane?”
“No.” Not exactly... “You should give him a chance. He may prove useful.”
He pulled a very strange expression at her then, before softening his features. “So I made plans; I knew I was going to die?”
“Yes, you did.”
Morghiad rounded on her suddenly, gripping her arms tightly. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
He’d know if she was lying, but she risked tainting him in the same way her husband had been tainted. It wasn’t his fault... but the question he asked of her made her fists clench. Artemi endeavoured to choose her words very carefully. “He was you, but his experiences... He’d lost so many people whom he cared about... and when I died, he-”
“When you went to The Crux?” His flow of emotions shuddered with worry. “No, before that. Acher had me killed as well.”
Bitter anger rose in him then, the sort of anger she really did not want to see in this Morghiad. She tried to calm him. “That was another world, not the one you live in. And my death isn’t quite so final as anyone else’s. But as I said, it marked him. It hurt him. It gave rise to something in his mind that was not a good thing. I can only describe it as a sort of... Blaze-hungry monster. He controlled it for the best part, but he feared it, too. He was... concerned that it would eventually harm those he loved.”
He stared at her for an age before he closed his eyes. “He killed himself, didn’t he?”
“Someone else guided him; someone else swung the sword.” She could feel his disappointment burrowing through their connection.
“But he didn’t fight back?”
“No.”
Morghiad was very quiet for a moment, introspective. Worried. “And this thing was real, not imagined?”
She nodded. “Very real.”
He growled quietly under his breath. “It is the Shade. The panther.” Surprise marked his brow as he measured her reaction. “He didn’t tell you about it, about guarding the gate?”
Artemi shook her head slowly.
“I suppose he wouldn’t have known if he had lost his parents young. Our family is...” His mind worked as he tried to find the words. “The gate to Achellon, or The Crux as you call it, was supposed to be guarded by a fearsome animal – a creature so vicious and angry that no one would ever come close enough to open it. It was like the panthers you see in the forest, but more... destructive. It killed and it maimed and tore the heads off children who dared to play too close. But one woman managed to trick it. She had a husband whom she despised, and she left him to be eaten while she crossed
the gate in safety. Of course, the gods of Achellon weren’t very pleased with her uninvited presence or their guardian’s failure. They couldn’t kill it – it was designed to be indestructible. So, as punishment, they used its essence to make her child. The Jade’ans - we are all descended from her... and it walks in all of us. Though it is usually too weak to do much of conseq-”
“Can you stop it?” Artemi began to feel a glimmer of hope, but she couldn’t tell him that it was in her. “Can you get rid of it?”
“It doesn’t die.” He frowned at
her despondency. “You are worried about your children? But Artemi...” He forced a grin. “...It doesn’t understand happiness, it doesn’t like it. It only feeds off bad emotions, and I can see that-” He brushed a hair from her cheek “-If I ever lost you, it would have a feast of emotions to grow on. But I know your resilience will give your children something your husband lacked. They will find their happiness with you as their mother.”
So that was it? Find contentment and the animal of nightmares would be gone? Her husband had once said that her presence cowed the creature, but
now she realised that it wasn’t quite true. It was the moments in which she had made him glad that had solved the problem. And now, with this thing inside her head, she risked making it stronger with her own malcontent. Somehow, she had to find joy in all of this.
The kahr kissed her lips and pulled her close. “I always knew you were the only woman I could ever marry. Will you tell my children I... ah... tell them I love them?”
“You haven’t even met them... and they’re not really-”
“If they were mine, I’d want
them to know that.” He sighed. “Maybe I could visit?”
“No. That is a very bad idea.” And this world’s Artemi would probably come and rip her head off for stealing her husband. It was bad enough that they had shared a bed. Artemi hoped her counterpart would understand how impossible-to-avoid that event had been.
“Tougher than Tegran cattle hide,” he murmured. “I’ll walk you to the gardens.” He kissed her hands and moved away with her, tears touching his eyes. His walk carried an effortless grace, his black cloak swirling in the
mists of the corridors. Artemi’s face was reddened and tear-soaked when Hedinar met them. She drew herself up, stayed her breathing and cleared her throat. “Ready to report, General Kantari.”
“At ease.” He shook his head in dismay.
Artemi did not relax her muscles. She didn’t dare. “We have had a chance to say goodbye this time. That is far more than most people have.” No sadness! She could not afford to be so gloomy anymore. Her Morghiad was dead, but elsewhere thousands still
“Temi.” He put a broad arm across her shoulders. “My son is right. Will you forgive this old fool for reacting so stupidly?” He motioned for them to walk towards the sallow trees. “I was just... I’ve become very used to predictability in your absence... and this is quite a surprise to me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. You couldn’t have known I wouldn’t kill him.”
“Perhaps not. But on reflection, there’s no other woman I’d rather have as my daughter-in-law.”
Those words made her blink, but they brought her a great wash of
reassurance. The feeling was mirrored in Morghiad, too. Her sadness rapidly sank beneath a smile. “Do you think Medea will accept the other me?”
He laughed. “She already has. You know, husbands of wielders tend to become very adept at handling wildfires. Though, how Morghiad hopes to manage you I have no idea.”
“He is the only man who is able,” she laughed, and her lover gave her a wide-eyed look of disbelief.
Hedinar joined her chuckle as he walked out onto the lawn. “And tell me, can I expect my grandchildren to be as unruly?”
Artemi managed to form a weak impression of a glower. “They are not unruly. My daughter speaks her mind, but that it to be encouraged.” At least, she used to speak her mind. Medi had become rather more reserved of late. “My eldest son is more subtle with his arguments, that is true. And the youngest is still too young to know what constitutes unruliness.”
The general’s grin was broad and knowing, but he decided not to press the subject. They ambled into one of the planted rows of white, winter flowers until, at length, Hedinar turned to face her. “Temi, the one
thing my son needs to learn is responsibility. And with a wife as fearsome as you are, it’s hardly going to be one he can avoid.”
The kahr made a noise of exasperation. “I am here, as you seem to have forgotten.”
They stepped into a tree-lined archway. “The Morghiad I knew had a multitude of burdens and responsibilities. Too many. But he never shirked any of them.”
“Then perhaps you were a good influence. I wouldn’t like to think that Acher was.”
“He put himself on trial for
Acher’s death.”
The general compressed his lips and nodded slowly. “I did exactly the same.” He embraced her tightly before she cou
ld say anything else. It was a rather uncharacteristic show of sentimentality from him. Surprise even filtered through from Morghiad. “Be strong for my grandchildren. That is an order, Lieutenant Fireblade.”
“Understood,” she responded into his chest. He released her and, just then, she caught a glimpse of Alliah walking along the other side of the tree line. She was in a wiry man’s arms. He had a funny sort of sneer on his face. It looked like... “Jarynd?!”
“Oh yes,” Hedinar said in low tones, “You know Farpike? She has quite an eye for battle-worn soldiers. The more scars the better, it seems.”
But Jarynd! Hah! Maybe all that boasting about the beautiful women he’d romanced was not quite so exaggerated, after all. A very strange world, this one. Very odd indeed. She turned back to Hedinar, but he was already walking away. Only Morghiad remained, and the tracks of tears marked his face in spite of his efforts to hide them. “Don’t le-”
“No words,” she said. Their kiss
was soft, perfect but brief. She released him, and took a final look at the features she’d never see again. Artemi thought of her home, a home she had started to miss, and dove headlong into the fires within her. They burned and seared her skin as she took vast quantities of it in. They seemed eager for escape, but she was in complete control this time. She was too content to let that creature near them. Artemi wielded a complex mix of Blaze forms that flowed into one another: a melange of weapons and structures and shields. It was exactly the same release of nonsense that she had made before,
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