The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle

by H. O. Charles

  He threw off his frozen cloak and moved slowly toward her. “I could not do it. Not yet.” And something was awakening within him, something that had no choice but to pursue her fire.

  “You cannot stay here, idiot! Silar already knows that you interfered with the battle. Light of Achellon, everyone who can wield could see that! You must go now before they have definitive proof!”

  “No.” His voice was almost a whisper, but he was close enough to see the way that the air upon which the word was carried caused her hair to waver. Morghiad moved closer still to feel her heat and to touch her skin. His lips brushed against her neck. It felt to him like a firestorm trapped beneath a

  layer of silk. More. There were no other choices remaining to him. “I must have you.” And he had to, whether she burned him to a cinder or sent him insane with an eternity of refusals to engage in anything with him. But she did not kick him away, and instead wrapped her arms and her legs about him.

  He was not entirely sure at which moment his clothes fell to the floor beneath, or exactly when his body became so inextricably intertwined with hers, but he could only have described his sensations as akin to bathing in the centre of the sun. In one instant he felt

  as if he might be burned from the surface of the Earth, in another the flames welcomed him with the most rapturous of pleasures. They were so fierce and free of design that his mind became infused with their thoughtlessness. But one thought remained, and that thought was Artemi. She was the fire made material; she was the force behind a blade and the will behind a hurricane. And he loved her. He had loved her beneath his hatred, and then from a distance as he came to re-work their time together in his mind. Throughout his banishment he had reinterpreted her smiles,

  retranslated her questions and lamented her disappointments. But he had come to realise that no twisted lies or influence could ever have prevented the truth from emerging.

  Nothing could have prevented this.

  Morghiad allowed himself to be carried to whatever destiny she and her ecstasies would bring him to, and embraced the final release of white heat when it came. It was the end, he thought, but he felt no fear at it.

  Artemi shifted amongst the vast pile of cushions, and pressed herself closer to Morghiad. The warmth that a lover’s arms brought really had no comparison in this world. It yielded a security that wielding could never emulate, and a trust that no guard could ever earn. He was still sleeping after his exertions, but already Artemi could sense that he was experiencing dreams

  of contentment. Her thoughts were not far-removed, though many of them concerned relief. The nightmare of the last few years was finally over, and Morghiad had triumphed over the fate that so many had convinced themselves was true. Not even The Daisain could make it happen.

  Well, those horrors were done with, but now she had the issue of smuggling her bedfellow out of the camp and across the border without anyone noticing. And then there would be nalka to follow before his term away was complete. Blazes, and she had always been the impulsive one!

  Morghiad immediately made it clear that he could feel her thoughts, and murmured a half-conscious, “Hush,” as he squeezed her. Fool man. He was the one who made her worry. He had no right turning up, calling her to him and then demanding she sleep with him. No right at all. Even if the years away had carved him into something altogether very appealing. Burn his overly broad shoulders and arm muscles and blasted scars of a hero!

  Her thoughts halted as his green eyes popped open; perhaps she ought to have kept a better rein on her

  irritation. Morghiad smiled at her, and it was a rather mischievous sort of smile that Silar would have had trouble bettering.

  “The morning is here, and the blindness wrought by my soldiers’ hangovers will not remain for long. We have to sneak you out.”

  He blinked and refocused upon her. “I can feel your emotions.”

  “Ah... I am afraid that is the price you must pay for sleeping with me. You will feel them even after you leave, and after nalka. And I will feel yours.”

  Morghiad ran his fingers over

  the surface of her hair in much the same way that he had so many years before. “Did this happen with your husband?”

  Artemi nodded, and she was sure she could feel a twinge of jealousy from him. It was a strange thing, she considered, to be envious of yourself.

  “Hmm. And now you lie in bed with a man who resembles him – not that I am upset by that – but, I wonder if... if I have enough to offer you – I am not him. I am a criminal, not a king. Surely you desire more than a lookalike?”

  She had considered her response to this question a thousand times since meeting him again. Artemi propped herself upon her elbows and locked his gaze. “There is no question that I have an attraction to tall, dark-haired men with fighting arms and green eyes, but I care for you as you are now. Who else do I have to defy me and tell me that I am a cliché?”

  He grinned. “You are only a bit of a cliché, I think. Fire-full rather than fiery.”

  Artemi rolled her eyes. “Thank you.” She turned her head to the direction of the rising sun. “But you absolutely must go now. There’s only

  so much a Blaze mask can hide, and eyes like those are a giveaway.” “There is no need for that. I’ll go the same way I came.” He kissed her several times and then went to search for his clothing, leaving her cold and a little exposed. She did not like the feeling his method of travelling gave her, or the way he had blown into her tent like a polar blizzard. Doing things with Blaze that made it cold always unnerved her, and reminded her too much of Mirel. And the way he had said he could no longer feel warmth... Now that she explored his sensations, he did feel rather cold. “I am not sure

  that is very good for you.”

  He smiled. “I am still alive, and the world is still turning.”

  “I do not like it.”

  Morghiad finished lacing his trousers, pulled on his shirt and shrugged into his coat. “Then it gives me another something to defy you over.” He approached her to kiss once more. “It’ll be alright, I promise.” His smile was as convincing as any she had witnessed from him. “I’ll see you again in two months. Is there anywhere you would prefer to meet me?”

  “The shore. Poldarh.”

  A strange sense of displeasure

  filtered through Morghiad’s river of emotions, and Artemi raised her eyebrows to urge him to explain it.

  “I had a bad experience with seafaring, and so did Tyshar. But I’ll meet you there. Goodbye, Artemi D’Avrohan.”

  She made sure that she kissed him a final time, and then stood back as he snapped out of existence. There was a cracking sound in the air and, blazes, but he felt cold! She immediately reached for her warmest blanket, wrapped herself within it and began to wield some heat into her bathing water. Her teeth were

  chattering!

  By the time she had washed and dressed, the sun had risen and the walls of the tent glowed softly with rosecoloured light. She smiled as she remembered her first time with Morghiad, which had taken place in an environment not too dissimilar to this one. But then he had been adored by his men and trusted by everyone but her father. Now he would find few allies, and fewer soldiers who still laid their faith in him. Why was it that a reputation took years to build, and only a moment to utterly destroy? Not even tales of his heroics in far-off lands had

  served to vindicate him completely, especially not amongst those who cared for Kalad. Artemi half wondered if she was betraying her own son by forgiving and loving his father. He was a good man, though. That fact would prevail, and it would reunite them all.

  She dressed herself in a rather extravagant arrangement of satin breeches and bodice, before attaching her blades and walking into the daylight beyond. As she had expected, most of the army lay about the ground in various states of catatonia. If Forda’s army had been left in a condition that was even slightly stronger than hers

  was, her Calidellian fighters would not have
stood a chance during a second bout. She shook her head and gingerly stepped over a farting, dozing Beetan, but noticed that Danner had not followed her. When she called him, he stood on wobbly legs and all but staggered toward her. “You too?” Blazes, who had given ale to a wolf?!

  Artemi instructed the animal to stay where he was, and strode the rest of the way to the general’s tent. He was also looking rather worse for wear when she found him, and a wooden bucket had been placed by his bed.

  He started speaking before she

  had a chance, “Do you know, I was drinking last night, and I thought, ‘Why hasn’t Artemi come to join us?’ And then I thought, ‘Oh, there’s only one person who would keep her from the party.’ You have no idea how many lies I had to spin to keep people from going into your tent and dragging you out! So how is the old, moody ingrate doing?”

  “He is fine, Silar, which is more than I can say for you.”

  The general groaned and reached for his skein of water. He gulped most of its contents down greedily. “There is something different

  about you,” he said, wiping his mouth. Come here so I can see it. Silar’s eyes narrowed as she approached. “Damn it, you slept with him!”

  “I didn’t have a choice!”

  He placed an arm across his eyes. “I really do not have the stomach for these images. Not now.” He made a sound halfway between exasperation and disgust. “You don’t understand. You’ve given it back to him.”

  “What ba...?” But Artemi knew what had happened. It had returned at the moment that Selieni had reversed Morghiad’s quenching, and had prowled the edges of her thoughts

  throughout each of the last three years. But now that monster was gone completely from her mind. Only the pure fires and the feelings of her lover remained. “I can help him manage it.”

  Silar pulled a strange expression. “I hope so.”

  And she would help him. They had each other now, and not even death could destroy that bond.

  The last two months of Morghiad’s banishment passed as slowly as Forda’s oldest glacier moved. Nalka had seemed to last for an eternity, and he felt as if he was watching his life pass before his eyes. But the life that moved around inside his head was something infinitely more exciting. Every move that Artemi made he felt, every fire she called into her body warmed him and every emotion she experienced he was party to. At times it was embarrassing, and some sensations made him anxious, but it was always welcome.

  He smiled as he felt her growing irritated with something again. It felt like she had been writing, and clearly she was not entirely happy with the product of her quill. If he could have found a way to send his calm thoughts to her, he probably would not have done so. He liked her changeable nature far too much, and it provided him with endless hours of amusement. Thank The Blazes that only a day remained before he would see her again!

  He went to examine Tyshar for the fourth time that day. The horse appeared to have an excellent memory, and it was likely that he would rebel at being forced onto a ship just as much as Morghiad wanted to. For the moment the animal seemed tranquil enough, especially after the huge bucket feed Tyshar had just polished off. “It won’t be a long journey, I promise.”

  The trip only needed to take him from the Fordan port of Minorthallan down to Poldarh, and he had been told it would take a matter of hours. To the east, the sea glinted deep blue beneath a gold-green sky. It looked as calm and innocuous as the purple flowers that grew along the jetty’s edge, but he

  knew the way it could change. A soft breeze ruffled through his hair and Tyshar’s mane, threatening to grow into something more malevolent. Blast it!

  It was time to move. His ship would soon be ready to leave, and it rocked gently at the end of the pier. It much was larger than his last vessel had been, with three, trunk-like masts and a bow that could charge through stone and stay intact. At least, he hoped it would. Morghiad took up Tyshar’s reins and led the horse to the boarding ramp, but there Tyshar stayed. As much as he tried to urge and pull at the horse, the horse would not move. “Listen, mule, if we do not board that boat, I do not get to see Artemi and that will make me a very unhappy rider. And you will have to charge all the way down to Poldarh on hoof.”

  The animal huffed and stamped, but still did not venture onto the ramp.

  “Fine.” Another incentive would be necessary. Already people were starting to notice him and his unruly horse, and Morghiad could not afford to be noticed here. He looked to the thin rope in his other hand, and the small creature at the end of it. The foal stood upon spindly legs and had eyes as wide as ale mugs. It was his final gift to the woman he had wronged, and was born of the best racer bloodlines in Forda. He had sent many gifts to her during his time away, and this one was certainly the best. “Well Valina, my warhorse is too scared. Perhaps you ought to show him who is braver?” Morghiad released Tyshar’s bridle to lead the gangly foal to the top of the ramp. The trick worked a charm, and soon his warhorse clambered up the board as if another bucket of feed lay unattended upon the deck. Perhaps Tyshar was not terribly rational, but he

  would not leave his charges unprotected.

  Once locked inside the hold, Morghiad remained with the two horses. He had no desire to see the rolling waves, nor leave his valuable cargo unattended. Valina had cost him almost every penny of reward money and payment that he had earned during his time away. It had taken several attempts to find her sellers, and even more visits to force them to agree to something he could afford. Worse, he had become so attached to the small thing he almost feared giving her away. Artemi had better fall for those eyes as

  he had.

  He daydreamed for a while, and tried to work out how far away he was from his destination. His senses told him that Artemi was now curled up beneath a light, summer sheet, and that she was wide awake. She was excited about something, but Morghiad did not want to be so immodest as to believe that excitement had anything to do with him. Unless she was looking forward to beating him into a pulp, anyway.

  But when the boat docked safely, and he stepped from the vessel amidst the rising sun, he found her waiting for him upon the pier.

  Morghiad scooped her from the ground, and pulled her to him as fiercely as he dared. Artemi was his, and he was home.

  “I have something for you,” he said once they had completed their embraces.

  She gave him a look of disbelief, and folded her arms. “Though the firestones were beautiful, and this gown...” She glanced briefly at the red satin dress that she had poured her curves into. “...It is quite lovely.” It certainly was. “But really, there is no

  nee-” Her eyes darted to something behind him.

  Morghiad followed her line of sight, and went to gather the subject of it. “May I present Valina. She is thoroughbred racer, and ready for your blood.”

  Artemi stared at the foal for some time before she brought her eyes back to him. “I... I cannot risk killing that beautiful thing.”

  “Nonsense, her brothers are proven blood horses. She’s tough, and was made for you.” He could sense the worry in her, and drew her hand to the foal’s mane. “But we can deal with that later, if you wish.”

  The former queen nodded.

  “Later. I have some business to attend to with you.” She led them away from the docks, swaying in her slim-fitted, crimson satin attire, and her flames of hair enticed him to follow closely with their golden claws.

  When they had finished putting the horses away, their next destination ought to have been the tavern room that Artemi had been staying in. But the former queen appeared to have other ideas, which included forcing him against a stable wall and then wrestling him into the hay beneath, before insisting that he provide her with every pleasure in the known world. Morghiad was eager to oblige her, though slightly wary that anyone could wander in and find them. If they did, however, he would not have noticed. The ecstasy of their reunion held him utterly captive, and blinded all his senses to everything but desire.


  The evening arrived, and he finally succeeded in taking his lover to a proper bed. For a time they lay naked beside each other, watching the air above as he dissolved tiny wieldings of her power into nothingness. Artemi seemed to have an inexplicable fascination with that particular skill of his, and also a small degree of fear at it. She instructed him to cease once she had seen enough, and then demanded that he sleep with her again. It was only after they had finished, when the sheets had been torn to shreds and the room filled with a hot haze that Morghiad noticed the wolf was missing.

  “Did Kalad return?”

  Artemi’s heart started to fill with sadness, and she shook her head. “He sent me a letter three weeks ago. That is all I have heard from him.”

  “We could find him. I can help you.”

  “My general tells me that he needs his time away.”

  Morghiad propped his head upon his hand to look at her from a slightly different angle. Still exquisite. “You should not listen to everything General Forllan says. He is like my father: they see the outcome and not the pain you have to suffer to reach it. I think that sometimes it is better to follow your heart. Not everything is about outcomes and endings. The bit inbetween is far more important.”