Morghiad found himself utterly lost for words. His son had grown up,
and it was like looking into a mirror of Blaze. Artemi had tried to describe the differences to him once, but he could not see them now.
“Kal!” She ran to him, and grasped her son tightly.
His returned embrace was light, and he did not move his dark eyes from his father.
“Are you well; are you alright?” Artemi inspected her son closely, and appeared to be satisfied with his condition.
He nodded and smiled thinly. “Yes. I can take care of myself, you know.”
She folded her arms and a strong sense of frustration proliferated through her flame of emotions. “Good. I want you to come and meet your father. He has many things to say to you.”
Morghiad kept his distance, but even from his point of observation he could hear his son whisper, “I don’t care.” The words hurt more than he would have liked to admit.
“Just give him a chance. He found Danner for you,” Artemi hissed, “Please. Speak to him.”
Kalad pulled a face which could only be interpreted as expressing severe disgust, but eventually walked towards
his father and Tyshar. “You’ve returned to shine your great heroism upon the rest of us, then?” he growled.
Artemi retreated to a distant bench from which to watch them, and the mix of emotions that Morghiad sensed from her was a difficult one to understand. It was part joy, excitement, fear and hurt - all stirred together and competing.
“I’ve returned to tell you I am sorry. I do not expect forgiveness, but I wanted to tell you that I... I am here if you need anything of me. I will do what I can to be your father again.”
“Silar was my father! And The
Hunter! And my grandfather! And Orwin! And everyone else that bothered to stay alive!”
“I know it was wrong – I was trying to protect you.”
Kalad stamped his foot and clenched his jaw. Blazes, did Morghiad always look that frightening when he was angry? “I may not be a good swordsman, but I know well enough that warriors don’t give up and let themselves die. They stay, and they fight and they fight until they are done. And they do not kill wolves!”
“And I am glad you are not a warrior, Kal.”
“No. Admit that I was a disappointment. You said it yourself: a criminal and a small sacrifice.”
Morghiad wanted to smile; he wanted to display his pride, but knew it could so easily be misinterpreted. “Though what you did with money was wrong, you are an excellent speaker, and you must understand how driven I was when I came to kill you. I thought that nothing could have dissuaded me from a path I had been set upon my whole life, but you did. You have a gift at changing people’s hearts with your words, and that has to be better than using a sword. You were never a
disappointment; I am proud of you.”
If anything, Kalad looked as if he was more infuriated by his praise than calmed by it. He kicked at the ground. “Don’t upset my mother again.” And with that he turned and walked away with Danner at his heels.
Artemi caught hold of her son for a few moments before he left altogether, though she never revealed what words passed between them. And when she returned to Morghiad, she placed her head against his chest and fought away her tears. It was all he could do to hold her tightly.
The fires of the Blazes burned on, and the sun wove its arcs across the skies over and over again. The seasons spun their winds about the trees, and the leaves marched their troop of colours from green, to gold, to red, brown and green again. More than a decade passed, and Artemi and Morghiad came to be known as the warriors who fought as fiercely as they
loved each other. They marched the length of their son’s kingdom, patrolled the heights and watched over the lowlands. They were unstoppable, unbreakable and unprecedented.
Silar rolled his eyes as he read through another article listing superlatives about the pair, and set it upon the desk. Such articles never mentioned their absent son and his poor relationship with them. Kalad had not sent the palace any communication in months. Aside from that particular problem, Silar desperately wanted to keep his thoughts jovial, but a recurring vision was preventing his efforts to do
so. One day you will understand what is necessary, The Daisain had told him. And Silar could see what was necessary. A battle loomed, and it was the sort of battle that the general hated thinking about. A large force of Wilrean soldiers had amassed at the border, and their queen sought vengeance over the clash at Cadra so many years earlier. Her son-in-law had lost his life among the Hirrahans, or so she claimed. But this sort of battle was one that Silar liked to term a pivot. The outcome would change everything considerably, and the conditions needed for a positive result were unpleasant to contemplate.
He had mulled every possibility over in his mind a thousand times, but the upshot was always the same. His greatest fear was of causing pain to Artemi, and yet it was an inevitability. Of course, he knew exactly which scenarios would be worse for her, but he could barely bring himself to admit what was necessary in order to save her from anguish. She had to be at that battle, and she had to die there.
Silar knew that Artemi’s death was necessary because, if he prevented it, Gialdin would be raided and Tallyn and Medea would die instead. He knew that she would have chosen her own
death in an instant, but that made his decision no easier. He closed his eyes and tried to rationalise it in his mind. The greater good. The long term. When he opened them again, Artemi and Morghiad were stood before him.
They greeted him with warm smiles and embraces and overwhelming cheeriness. It very nearly made him sick.
“You have a battle for us, I hear.” Morghiad’s smiles were as broad as his face would permit, and his future was still as impenetrable to Silar as a lump of coal.
“Yes. Abig one. Nasty. Both of
you should attend.”
Artemi nodded and slid onto one of the desks, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged. “Very good. Are Tal and Med going to be there?”
Blazes, she spoke of it as if it was going to be a party! “No. Just you two. We need to keep them safe this time. Leave your squad here to protect them. And me.” He was nothing but a coward!
The former king and queen nodded, instantly understanding his implication. Damn them for trusting him!
“You should leave tomorrow.
Take a Sky Bridge. It won’t fall, but you’ll need to move quickly through it.”
Their expressions conveyed some concern at his instruction, and afterwards he calmed them with topics of conversation quite removed from the battle. He could not afford to give them any cause to fear the outcome of their fight; that could alter everything and disrupt his plans. He had to remember that this was for the greater good, and he had to remind himself of that fact well into the night. Once they had finished speaking of all the hundreds of enemies they had vanquished and
miscreants they had chased, they finally departed his office. And after that he spent a great many hours staring at the wall. Eventually his tears came; he was nothing better than a murderer.
Artemi and Morghiad stormed through the rocking Sky Bridge side
by-side. Blazes, Artemi and Morghiad. What did they sound like, and how long before some idiot writer started penning melodramatic stories of their exploits? She smiled, and looked to her husband. He returned her glance with one of his raised eyebrows, and kicked Tyshar on. Oh, a race always made her heart thump faster! Valina responded immediately to her request for more speed, and within moments she was chasing Tyshar’s great hooves. It took only one more kick to push the brown mare to the warhorse’s side, and then she overtook.
She gave Morghiad a grin of
triumph as she passed, and felt a swell of rather smug achievement. He was laughing behind her, she realised, laughing at her pride. But, as everyone knows, pride always comes before a great, big tumble. At that moment the Sky Bridge gave a violent shudder. Both horses kept the
ir footing, but became panicked. They were close to the end of the pathway, but still suspended amidst the cloud.
“Faster!” Artemi yelled. Valina was already moving at a steady gallop, but the horse could move even more like the wind if urged. Bloody Silar! He had promised them the Bridge would
hold. It was now wavering all across the skies, and the ground was growing closer much more rapidly than she would have liked. She glanced behind her to check that Morghiad was close. He was there, and she could sense that he was doing something to the forms that still remained.
Artemi refocused her thoughts on the exit, and set about building the key that was needed to open it. Another shake rocked the Sky Bridge. Not much time. They hurtled forwards, and almost before Artemi could breathe, the exit loomed before them. She launched the key at it, closing her
eyes as it dazzled, turned purple and blue and then white. And then she felt the fresh air touch her skin. Valina carried her out and into the safety of the solid earth beyond, and Artemi allowed herself some relief. As she turned back, she could see the rotting forms wobbling behind them.
“It’s agreed. No more Sky Bridges,” Morghiad breathed.
“No more.” What had Silar been thinking?
Their mounts were skittish and jumpy as they climbed the rise that would lead them to the edge of the battle, which did not give Artemi much
hope for their performance in the fight itself. When a horse was already panicked, it would hardly behave itself with a horde of soldiers advancing. The crest of the hill gave way to a view of the battle beyond, and Artemi took an involuntary breath. Everywhere below her was a sea of gold uniforms. Only a small band of men in Calidellian green remained, and they were entirely surrounded. They did not stand a chance.
“Morghiad...”
“Silar knew,” her husband sighed. “I am sure he has a good reason for this.”
She looked to the man who owned her heart. The soft winds teased his jet hair, and the hot daylight caught the clasps upon his grey clothing. As always, he felt cold under the rays of the sun; cold and tough like a weathered piece of rock – a very handsome rock. "You know how this ends now. It can only end one way,” she whispered.
His green eyes flashed, and he understood immediately. "One of us must die."
"One or both, my heart."
"How many more times must this happen before we find peace?"
Artemi laughed. "Oh... another three or four times, I'd say."
He reached his hand out to her. “Well, then. If tonight I am to be dead or alone, you should know that I expect a night of unsurpassed passion when we are reunited.”
“You have my word on it.”
They clasped each other’s fingers and kissed on their agreement before dismounting, releasing their horses and sprinting forth to the battle that lay before them.
It was a mess of innumerable swords and bodies and endless swathes of yellow uniforms, but Morghiad and
Artemi remained back-to-back as they cut and slashed their way through to the last few Calidellian men. With every blade that would threaten his wife, Morghiad struck out at it and sent his awareness to her. And she, in turn, felt his movements and defended every area that he could not. They moved as one; thought as one; fought as one. But for all of their skill and experience, their pairing was not enough to prevent a poison-soaked blade from piercing Artemi’s heart. She gasped at the air for long enough for Morghiad to drag her to safety and guard her with Blaze, but there was no
doubt that her body would die.
“Get out of here,” she hissed at him. “I’m going to burn this place to the ground, and they’ll firebomb me when they see me glowing like a blasted torch in a feast day parade!”
Morghiad shook his head. “I’ll help you do it.”
It made her sad, but Artemi knew that there would be no arguing with her stone of a husband, and so they drew all of the power of the Blazes into themselves that they could hold. It coursed through them wildly, and made each of their injuries ten times as intense, but it would be the
end. As they worked to form the last, great fireball to destroy the Wilrean army, every enemy wielder and kanaala’s eye was drawn to them. And in synchrony, every warrior equipped with the ability to handle Blaze launched their attack upon the pair.
The land, it was later said, exploded in fires as high as the clouds and as intense as a white-hot furnace. The grass evaporated, the skies hissed and the earth was burned ten feet down. Only a few fighters survived it, but all wore the same uniform in the end, and it was charred black.
There was a moment that day, during the afternoon, when King Tallyn of House Jade’an blinked. It was not a subtle blink, nor a terribly dramatic one. But Silar saw it. And he saw its implications and the emotions that had to have accompanied it. He saw the images of fire, and the mountain of his
own guilt. He did not say anything, but waited for the other man to speak first.
“She’s dead.”
“I’m sorry, Tal. I’m so sorry.”
The king, never afraid to show his emotions, almost immediately began to weep for his mother. Silar wished that he could allow himself to do the same, but he knew he could not. It would break him, and would bring about another mess of events that he would not be able to properly solve.
“They will come back.”
“They? Both of them?”
The general had not been sure at first, but now he knew. He could feel
the change in the air. He nodded. “Yes. I am sorry. I am sorry I could not prevent their deaths for you.”
Tallyn sniffed, wiped his eyes and set his jaw. “Then we’ll find them. We’ll make sure they are safe here.”
Silar took a sharp breath. “Not here. Not even in Calidell. We can ensure that they are raised together, and well, but not here. It is too risky.”
“You still do not trust my father, do you?”
He decided to keep his exact thoughts and visions on that matter to himself. “It is better to be safe, Tal. It is better to be safe.”
Glossary of Terms
Achellon – A mythical place inhabited by the all-powerful fire gods. It is believed that Achellon is composed entirely of Blaze Energy and that it is the true source of such power. It is often described as a place devoid of pain or suffering. In reality, Achellon is likely to be derived from legends based upon The Crux.
Benay-gosa – An unmarried, female attendant of male royalty. Her
primary duty is to provide an heir, though she is more commonly viewed as a provider of pleasures for her mate. Benay-gosa are chosen by their sponsors, and considered to be royal property. They are similar to concubines, though they can be selected from any level of society. Blaze Energy – A fiery power that can be manipulated into weapons, shields, sources of light and even used to construct buildings. It is usually described as blue light in its basic form, but to most people it is not visible. Blazes, The – The fires from which Blaze Energy is extracted. Only
wielders (directly) and kanaala (indirectly) have access to these fires.
Crux, The – A world that exists at the centre of all worlds. It is the most energy-rich plane of existence, and all other worlds draw their power from it.
Cave of Light (Gialdin) - The gateway from the Darkworld to The Crux, and a place filled with latent energy.
Eisiel – A creature so burned by The Blazes that it is half-dead. Described as charred, oily skinned and wasted in appearance, eisiels kill without remorse. They usually hunt for a specific target, selected by their maker. It has been observed that they are former lovers of wielders, whose fires burned them during love-making. They are immune to weapons made with Blaze Energy.
Form (Blaze) – A structure made with Blaze Energy that will produce a specific weapon, shield, light or piece of matter. Forms are altered by defining the speed, vibration and shapes of Blaze Energy that make it. Once constructed, most forms can be deconstructed or unravelled, but the time required is dependent upon th
e complexity of the form.
Ghar-en – An amplifying tool for reinforcing or enlarging existing Blaze forms. Only a few of these are known to have been made, and most have become lost through time.
Gar-sira – An object to which a Blaze form can be anchored, thereby impeding any kanaala’s or wielder’s efforts to deconstruct it. Gar-siras are usually objects that can be smashed or destroyed to remove the form.
Ghar-ten – An object designed to hold Blaze energy for later use, or to enable a kanaala to wield without the aid of a female wielder.
Kahr – A male heir of royal
blood in the central and eastern areas of the Sennefhal continent.
Kahriss – A female heir of royal blood in the central and eastern areas of the Sennefhal continent.
Kanaala – A man who can manipulate (i.e. wield) Blaze forms or deconstruct them. Kanaala are the male counterpart to wielders, and they cannot access Blaze Energy independently. A kanaala can control The Blazes through a wielder, and he can access her fires before her power is fully matured. He also has the ability to permanently quench a wielder of her power, although it has been observed
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 149
