Voices of Blaze

by H. O. Charles

  “You stay there,” Morghiad instructed, and Artemi would have been content to humour him if the giant spider had not hissed noisily the moment he drew near to it.

  Artemi looked about at the cave, and her eyes soon fell upon numerous bundles of spun web. The shape of the bundles matched perfectly with the shape of bound bodies. “Mor-”

  But he kept moving toward the creature, evidently hoping to distract it so that she could escape. This would not be like the eisiels, Artemi told herself; there was no pinh poison here. She strode forward boldly, and placed herself beside her husband.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed, but she ignored him.

  Quite unexpectedly, the spider lowered its body to the ground and drew its legs inward. It was… bowing to her. But of course it was. The guardians of the gates ought to behave before her as an Achellon-born – she was essentially their mistress.

  Morghiad blinked, but his expression rapidly turned to a grin. “Perhaps that is why I seek to please you so.” He placed an arm about her waist and began leading her out of the cave.

  “Your mother never did.”

  “I didn’t realise you did not get on with her.”

  Artemi pulled her mouth to one side. “We did get on, and she was an excellent queen to her people. But it was always a cool accord we had. It is sometimes difficult when you have known a woman’s husband longer than she has known him. And there was a time when I was concerned she would distract Hedinar from his duties. That was all.”

  “Distract him from his-?”

  Artemi shrugged. “He was a brilliant warrior and leader. I did not want the world to lose those things because of a woman. I suppose it was for the best though, no?”

  Morghiad’s eyebrows rose and fell briefly, and they remained low when he stepped outside of the spider’s cave. A long, sloping beach led down to the shoreline, where azure seas rolled and rocked toward a distant coast full of mountains. Artemi inhaled the fresh air deeply. It smelled of fish and seaweed and of life and living. “I have missed this,” she said quietly.

  “Let’s see where we are,” her husband said, trotting up the hillside behind them. Artemi followed, and with a better vantage point, it became clear they were on an island. Several more stretched out into the ocean beyond them, while a spit of craggy rock jutted out from the mainland and toward the middle isle in the chain.

  “We’ll need a boat,” Morghiad said with a grumble in his voice. “I hate boats.”

  The landscape around them was almost entirely grassland and rock, with little sign of any animal living upon it but birds. It was unlikely that men ever bothered coming here, and that meant there would be no boats. Artemi felt her brow knotting as she thought of how the next fortnight would pass. They could not wander too far from the cave, but food here was likely to be scarce. There were no buildings, no shelter from the wind or the rain, no blankets for babies or animals to skin for fur. Morghiad would have a fit if she tried to wield anything useful to solve these problems, and there were definitely no wet nurses. Blazes!

  “Are you any good at fishing, husband?”

  His green eyes fixed on her for a moment, but he sighed when he looked away again. “At least there will be no eisiels here, and no Mirel to hurt you. We can be thankful for that. I had been looking forward to some time alone with you.”

  “We will not be alone for long. And there’s Kalad and Med to think about. We must make sure they are safe.”

  Morghiad nodded slowly. “After the baby is born.”

  Artemi put his hand to her stomach, sliding it beneath her bodice so that his fingers touched her skin. Fire spread out from the point of contact and right through her body to her fingertips and toes. “Can you tell yet? If it is male or-”

  “I cannot sense a wielder,” he said. “So it must be another son.” He smiled.

  Three sons and a daughter then? Or Tallyn? Blazes, let it be Tallyn! Artemi smiled back, though she did not want to hope too deeply – such hopes could only ever lead to more heartbreak. She removed his hand and studied it as it lay in hers. It was long-fingered and strong – a strong hand that had held another woman close. She released it and resumed her study of the landscape. “There is a sinkhole in the grass over there. It will guard us from the winds at least.”

  Morghiad nodded, and they made their way to it to begin setting up a camp. By the time evening came, they had a small shelter built from driftwood and two sizeable piles of bracken upon which to sleep. It really ought to have been one pile, but Artemi could not yet bring herself to lie beside him without her mind filling with torturous thoughts. Even with Morghiad several feet away from her, she still found herself wondering if Queen Dorinna had wrapped her fingers amongst those ebony lidir, or if she had squeezed the bottom that had once been Artemi’s to squeeze.

  It troubled her that Morghiad did not seem to concern himself with the same worries. In truth, Artemi could not read anything of what went on inside the man’s mind at that moment, and that only made her muscles tense. Sleeping with him might have renewed their link and solved the problem, but she was certainly not ready to do that yet. Not in the absence of a great many pints of ale, anyway.

  It pained her to see him on his own however, especially when she could see how cold he was. Though the evening had no chill to it, and Artemi was content to sleep in just her shirt and breeches, Morghiad was curled up beneath his coat. It does not matter, he had told her before turning in, there’s enough driftwood to build a fire for myself if I need it. But fires made with driftwood could make a grown man dizzy from the fumes, and Artemi had forbidden it. Now he shivered alone.

  She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the stars – dead wielders, one myth said, though Artemi had never noticed any new ones during her ten thousand years in this world. Besides, she could recall a fair few who had not been nearly so pretty nor bright as the pinpricks of light that now hovered above her. Those stars had watched many wars, she thought. How strange that there would not be more wars on this continent, and how strange it was that both the husband and the son of a woman who lived to fight should have been the ones to make it happen.

  Her son had been forced to trade his body for this peace; it would have been unfair that her husband should not trade his. Artemi fell asleep with that thought, and when she awoke the next morning, she found the skies heavily overcast and Morghiad absent. She donned her jacket, and discovered that Morghiad’s white sword had been left at her shoulder. Clearly he intended her to defend herself with it if the need arose, though the thought that any enemy would find them here made her laugh.

  Artemi clambered to the side of the sinkhole to look about the island. Immediately she saw a pillar of smoke rising from the beach, and cursed. There were no trees on the island, which meant he had to have used driftwood for his fire. She had warned him about that! Had he really grown so cold as to risk falling unconscious into the sea? Fool man!

  She began walking toward the smoke, when she heard the sound of footsteps in the grass running toward her back. Odd.

  Artemi turned, but did not see Morghiad sprinting toward her. Instead, it was a great, hulking man with shanks of ham for arms and rocks for fists. He would have made Romarr feel inadequate, and he was armoured for fighting. Artemi stepped beyond his grasp before he could snatch hold of her, and pelted down toward the beach where Morghiad was. She had not realised it before, but after so long away from the Darkworld, and with a child growing inside of her, she was nowhere near as fit as she had once been. Her legs were heavy, and her feet snagged on the grass. “Morghiad!” she yelled, but he did not come to her aid.

  When she arrived at the shore, her husband was nowhere to be seen. Only an unattended campfire, flickering purple and blue, was evidence that he had been there at all. The noises made by her pursuer were growing louder behind her as she looked about; Artemi had to move again. She ran toward the southern end of the island this time, and was heartened to see a set of footprints that moved in the same directi
on.

  She looked back to the hulking pursuer, who still huffed and puffed behind her. Aside from his chainmail, he wore a belt with two clubs suspended from it and boots with steel caps. “What is it you want?” Artemi tried asking him as she ran backwards, but she knew it was no good. He did little more than grunt in response.

  When she rounded the end of a small, rocky outcrop, she found a sailboat with two men in it. One of them matched the grunt in appearance, while the other was her unconscious husband. Though the wound had since healed, a jagged trail of blood ran from his forehead, and his lidir hung limply over the sides of the vessel. At least he was still alive.

  Artemi had few options available to her. She may have once been the deadliest assassin ever to have lived, but now she was weak, she risked the life of her child if she wielded and she had no blades to hand. Wait – the sword!

  With a quick check to see how far behind the other ogre was, Artemi sprang up the rocks and back onto the grassland. She made straight for the shelter in the sinkhole and dove toward the sword. Almost as soon as she had hold of it, the man-monster was on top of her. Artemi wriggled free and lifted the sword to swing it. What she had failed to account for, however, was how heavy and long the damn thing was, and how badly out of practice she was. The tip of the blade caught in a tussock of grass as she lifted it, and the swing became unbalanced. Before it even made contact with her attacker, he knocked it out of her hand and sent it spinning away into the rocks. There was a high-pitched ringing sound as it clattered down into a fissure no wider than a man’s fist.

  Artemi tried to go after it, but she was pinned to the ground before she could. She twisted and writhed in the man’s grip, and kneed him hard between the legs. His face immediately turned red with anger and pain, and it was enough for her to wriggle free. Artemi leapt onto his back, clamped her legs about his sides and wrapped an arm about his neck to squeeze it. It was as thick as a tree trunk and just as rigid, but there ought to have been the same airways and bones as in the neck of any other man. When his struggles failed to subside, she grabbed a handful of hair and pulled his head back sharply. Lose consciousness, damn you!

  But the man did not; he staggered to his feet and tried to throw her off, at first scrabbling at his back to try to grab her. When he worked out that doing so was fruitless, he grabbed one of her legs and began twisting it. Artemi screamed in pain, and knew that wielding was now her only option. If she did not use Blaze to defend herself, she, her baby and her husband would likely die anyway.

  Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain at the base of her skull, and her vision became blurry. The other man had been behind her, she realised, but by the time she understood this, she was already lying dazed upon the ground. How had she not anticipated he would come to help his friend? Artemi reached out toward the fires to wield them, and all of the daylight winked out.

  “She’s lying down and won’t get up? Well, you need to turn the room around!” shouted the mad fool from his gallery. Perhaps he had once been a jester for a king or queen – he certainly had the headwear for it, but he was clearly insane. The man cackled to himself, and then skipped off into his cave.

  Morghiad looked to his wife, who still lay unconscious in his arms. She had survived their descent down the long, slippery chute well, and she did not appear to have any obvious injuries. He had clung to her as tightly as possible when he had realised what was going on, but that did not guarantee anything. He had also managed to find a quiet corner of the prison to take her to – a place away from the leering eyes and reaching hands, but it was still neither safe nor private enough for a pregnant woman. And how could he have expected anywhere in this place to be? This was the most legendary prison of all, and Morghiad had allowed Artemi to become trapped in it.

  Garntahn’amo Rock, as it was known – where no one who went in ever came out - not even the guards. It seemed a reasonable enough description, as far as he could tell. The cylindrical cavern stretched for a good two miles above him, and perhaps another mile below. A million galleried caves and pathways lined its circumference, illuminated only by stinking wax candles. The most depraved and dangerous criminals made their homes toward the top where the air was fresher, whilst the weaker and more subservient ones cowered at the bottom amongst the dung. Everything appeared to be hierarchical here, and –

  We are more deadly than anything in here. We shall rule!

  Morghiad hissed at the monsters to shut up. He had thought he had missed them when they were away, but he was sure he wanted rid of them now, and since his capture they seemed to be as excitable as ever. The little bastards were not even helpful to him, or at least they hadn’t done much to enable him to beat the guard who had captured him. He was sure it had been their idea to light the fire, even if they had planted the suggestion in his head without using words.

  There was a soft moan from Artemi then, and Morghiad began stroking her hair as she awoke. The fibres of it felt cool against his fingertips.

  She blinked at him briefly, and smiled, but the smile soon fell from her lips. “I’m quenched.”

  Morghiad nodded. “I could not prevent it.”

  We grow hungry again, lamented the creatures in his head.

  “Is it…” She put her hand to her stomach and her voice began to waver. “Am I still pregnant?”

  “I don’t know, Artemi. I cannot tell now. We’d need a wielder-”

  But it did not matter how tightly he held her, for already her eyes were watering.

  “He might still be alright. We have to wait and see.” It did not seem possible for a child that new to survive its mother’s quenching, but if Kalad had survived poison, perhaps it was.

  “Where are we?” she asked as she propped herself up against him.

  “Garntahn’amo Rock. The entrance must be on one of the islands next to ours, and I suppose my fire attracted the wrong attention. The guards seemed to think we escaped from one of their prison ships, and that this is where we belong. They threw us down some sort of chute, far too long, steep and slippery to climb back up again. Plus there’s guards to throw tar on you if you try.” He bit his lip. “I failed to protect you again; I don’t know what you must think of me.”

  Her gaze dropped, and Morghiad was quite sure he had the answer. Her love had meant everything to him – everything – and the thought that he might never receive it again… it made his heart cold.

  “Did you cut an accessway again while I was gone?”

  An image of Ulena’s severed head flashed before his eyes again, making him twitch. “I did.”

  “And now you feel that chill even more than before?”

  “Yes.” He nodded slowly, and considered telling her how she could still thaw his frozen bones, but thought better of it. Cuddling with him was probably the last thing she desired at that moment, and it would sound as if he were placing the blame upon her for not lying with him the previous night.

  Artemi stood to appraise the cavern, and then paced about the corner in which Morghiad crouched. “I need to wield if we are to get out of here, and that means undoing the quenching. I will be stronger if I eat well before I start.”

  “My heart, you cannot go without food for three days if you are pregnant!” His words came out far angrier than he had intended, and his cursed at the ground in frustration.

  His wife paused to study him for a moment, but then continued to pace. “Fine. We wait until we are sure if he… until we know. We should find out where the exit is in the meantime.”

  Morghiad strode to the carved stone balcony and looked out over it into the black abyss beneath. The guards had taken his fine coat when they had captured him, and now he longed for its warmth. Artemi however, was already throwing off her outer layers whilst complaining of the heat, and her skin glistened with sweat in a way that made Morghiad think some very impure thoughts indeed.

  He drew his eyes away from her so that he could think more clearly. “People here have to fight to get to the top of the cavern. I
was fortunate to be able to stop on this level, rather than have to start down there. But if we want a cave to ourselves, we may have to hope for a death to happen above us.”

  Artemi chuckled, though there was little humour in it. “Well, isn’t this familiar? If there’s one thing I have learned about, it’s fighting to show who’s the strongest. We will have to fight our way to the top.”

  “We? You are not doing any fighting.”

  “I cannot give birth in here!” she hissed. “We fight, or we die down here. Or worse, our son lives to know nothing else but this...” She held her hand out to gesture at the caves, and as if to punctuate her words, a series of screams erupted from the galleries above them. Someone was being murdered, or tortured perhaps. Morghiad was not sure if it really mattered which.

  He went to put his arms about her and reassure her that these were his battles to win, but Artemi shrugged herself free of him. In any other situation, he might have assumed it was his numerous failures in protecting her, and perhaps in getting her with child, but this went far deeper. He could still see the pain in her eyes when she looked at him, and knew that none of his words or embraces could remove it.

  His infidelity ought not to have upset her any more than hers had him, but clearly it did. And of course, the reason for it was clear: Artemi had been able to freely admit that what she had done was wrong, a mistake made for which he could so easily forgive her. He, on the other hand, could not admit that he had been wrong, and that all Artemi’s pain was for nothing at all – that no lives had been saved by his time with Dorinna. Worse, he felt that Artemi could see it.