City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) (22 page)

“No. I’ll use more traditional means to obtain that.”

Artemi chose not to enquire further. She closed her eyes as if to sleep and folded her hands atop her lap. Her face assumed a sort of peace that could transcend time, and wars.

The kahr rose from his chair and dragged it so that it was next to Artemi’s, rousing her from her temporary slumber. Then he went to his shelves and pulled out a flat, polished wooden box. The red-haired woman immediately recognised its contents and curled her legs beneath her so that she was at a better angle to face him. Morghiad laid the box out on the arm of her chair and began to arrange the will-die pieces in their starting positions. “Now,” he said, “Do not make this too easy for me.”

She gave him a fiendish grin and named her first piece: “I name The Kahr. It’s always a good one to sacrifice first.”

Chapter 7

The cold marble piece slid thickly across the soft grain of the wood beneath Artemi’s fingers, until it came to rest beside a darker stone. With an engineered flick of her wrist, she knocked over the king piece and took the throne. She decided not to wallow too long in her glory; there was the matter of maintaining one’s honour in victory. Over the last six days they’d completed ten rather involved games of will-die, and Artemi had won seven of them. Of course, Morghiad had not reacted in any way to his defeats, or his triumphs. But on this occasion he gave her a frown. It was small and transient, but most definitely there. Mentally she added it to her list of his expressions. The list was not long, since the only other entry was that smile he had unleashed a week previously.

That reaction had knocked her estimation of him a great deal. Her re-evaluation was not due to his peculiar sense of humour which, incidentally, seemed to involve her being injured, but rather it was induced by the way his whole countenance had altered. The statue, for an instant, had become animated. Perhaps more disturbing, in its incongruity, it had been so striking and so warm that even Silar’s best smiles would have paled beside it. That, she did not like.

“You are a challenge in many ways, Artemi,” said the green-eyed man. She was not entirely sure if she should have been flattered or offended by that. He swept the pieces into the board, folded their fine box and replaced it on the shelf. There was something about his stance that caught her attention, something different. The man was as straight-backed as ever, with the apparent relaxed ease of a confident man used to getting his way. Beneath that exterior were undercurrents of a swordsman’s tension: always alert, always listening closely to his environment. This time there was a new element to his movements that she could not quite pin down, and it did not feel... positive. Had she worn him down? Perhaps he was used to people letting him win. “I find you a worthy opponent, my captain,” she ventured. That much was true; no one else had ever made her work as hard to win as he had.

Morghiad gave his usual expressionless reaction and walked to the window. Next to him lay his folded-up cloak, the green symbol of Cadra emblazoned on the top. It had been a nightmarish thing to clean, requiring special clay earth for the fur. She would miss wrapping herself in its embrace each night, she lamented, as much as she appreciated her own blanket. When the firewood had first turned up in the cellars, everyone had thought it a cruel joke. She had been forced to convince the cavern inhabitants present that the fuel was indeed for them, and that the chimneys could be used safely. Some had refused point-blank to burn it, instead stashing it beneath blankets or piling it high in cold fireplaces. At least, they did so until more turned up the next day. Artemi smiled to herself at her recent good fortune, and wondered just how the kahr had managed to afford such an outlay. He had requested that his involvement remain secret and she was happy to oblige him in that respect.

The week had been tiring for them both in spite of their gaming; it had also included much sword training and a great deal of wielding. She now knew all of the twenty-three sword forms, but failed to see the use of some. She now knew how light could be formed from the air and how fire could be made without fuel. The kahr frequently accused her of trying to steal control from him, though truly she had not intended to. She had only wanted to see how it was he held her power, where he connected to it. There must be a way of observing it more passively.

A knock came at the door. Morghiad spun and waved Artemi, now standing, to the bed. She moved swiftly but quietly to assume her occupation as chambermaid and Morghiad called his visitor in. She kept her head down and proceeded to pull out the bed sheets, even though they were clean.

From her limited view she could see that a thin man had entered the room. His boots were travel-worn, but his trousers and sword signified he was a member of the guard.

“Lord-Captain,” came his gritty voice.

“Master Farpike. You have news of your mission?” Morghiad said.

Farpike? Artemi did her best not to break her flow or become tense, but fear found its way into her body and began spiralling up through her legs. She clenched her jaw against it.

The gritty voice spoke again: “Corvid and Muscica are dead.”

“How?” The kahr did not sound upset by the news.

“A large group of bandits attacked us. We three were lucky to leave with our lives. Passerid lost an arm in the brawl. I reckon he’ll be out of action for a month at least.”

Morghiad turned to the window again, silent.

Jarynd continued, “We didn’t find any sign of a rogue wielder. The bandits won’t trouble anyone again, though. I’m exhausted, mind if I take a seat?” He plonked himself in the armchair without waiting for a response.

Artemi took a brief opportunity to look up and noted Jarynd’s snarled face. Light brown, straggled hair framed a very curious expression as he gripped the arms of the chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Morghiad turn his head slightly, and immediately returned her gaze to the sheets she was removing.

A second of silence passed whereupon, like a thunderbolt, Jarynd leapt from the armchair. Morghiad wheeled around, hand on sword hilt, and was met by the fearful sneer now present on the wiry man’s face. The two remained motionless for a moment, eyes locked together. Slowly, Jarynd rotated his narrow, scarred face to Artemi. She froze, dropping the sheets from her hands. Oh blazes.
He knew
. And now he was going to kill her. The thin guard jumped towards her with terrifying speed. His advance was arrested, however, by Morghiad driving full into his side. Jarynd hit the edge of the bed with a grunt and the kahr lost no time in pinning him to the floor. “Get out of here,” he demanded of Artemi. Jarynd thrashed about beneath him, face contorted with anger. Artemi could not move.

The trapped man yelled out, “She’ll kill all of us. I’ve seen her-”

Morghiad clamped a fist over his captive’s mouth. “Listen. Go to Silar. Wait with him for me.”

Artemi allowed herself to breathe. What if this man killed Morghiad? It would be her fault. “But...” she began.

“LEAVE!” Morghiad’s eyes had taken on a new light.

She fled. She ran through the vast hallway and across the polished stone floors. She pelted down shallow steps and along the vaulted corridors, feet making a terrible racket as she went. Silar’s door neared. She prayed that he would be in his chambers. At the very least he could help his captain.

Artemi hammered on the ancient wood, her entire body shivering with panic. Something moved inside. Hurry up, and move! The door swept open and Silar’s handsome form filled her view. His black coat hung open and his light hair appeared somewhat ruffled. He immediately recognised her distress and pulled her into his room by the arm, checking the corridor for witnesses. “What is it?”

“Morghiad needs your help. One of the other kanaala... he knows. I fear he will kill our captain.”

Concern filled Silar’s face. “Do the other ones know about you?”

“No. Jarynd Farpike. He just came into Morghiad’s room and... detected me. Morghiad stopped him but I don’t know how long he can-”

“Morghiad can take care of himself,” Silar interrupted. “He wanted you here, didn’t he?”

Artemi felt desperation well up in her. “Yes but he needs-”

“He’s ordered me to look after you. That is what I must do. He will deal with Jarynd appropriately.”

Artemi shook her arm free and paced around the room in frustration. Why was he leaving his friend to fight alone? She hated that she was their pet: leashed, compliant and always several steps behind! She could mew or bark all she wanted but doubted they would think her noises of any actual consequence.

For a moment she wished she had been born a man - an ordinary, boring man with a farm. Farmers had to answer to no one except the weather, and they didn’t have sword-wielding soldiers after them. Silar was watching her closely, probably still thinking she would blast his head off because it amused her. Artemi leaned against one of the bed spears and then slid to the floor in resignation. For a moment the blond man looked about at his room, and then back to her. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and cursed quietly, before coming to sit beside her. Gently, he placed an arm around her shoulders and leaned back against the bed in silence. There was nothing to do but wait.

The heavy wooden door closed slowly by itself, whining a little from its rusted hinges. Morghiad lifted his hand from Jarynd’s mouth. The man instantly issued forth a barrage of curses and threats before tempering his anger and uttering something slightly more lucid, “You have no idea what you’ve let loose! You are a stupid child with too many responsibilities. Kill her before it’s too late.”

Morghiad resisted the urge to hit Jarynd squarely in the face. “If we kill her she will only return in twenty-three years to seek her revenge. And then we shall all be dead.”

“I’d rather twenty more years of life than none! You cannot trust that... thing! I’ve seen that one before. I saw her take out one-hundred men with no effort at all. You think she will be our friend? You are a fool!” Jarynd continued to writhe.

“Were these Calidellian men?”

Jarynd’s mouth curled awkwardly. “No. Hirrahan mercenaries. It doesn’t matter. Her kind kill indiscriminately.”

Morghiad could not help but feel some relief. “In this life she has killed no one. She is still an innocent woman, unaware of her past. The Artemi you saw is the hero of legend; she may have had a good reason for doing what she did. Think also, of the advantages we have with her as our ally.”

Jarynd thought for a moment. Perhaps he had not recognised her identity before. He spat, “We cannot control her. True, I would rather have her on my side than against, but she cannot be trusted!”

“She has promised to protect the people of Calidell, Farpike.”

The wiry man’s pale eyes widened. “You got her to swear it? All of Calidell’s people?”

“Yes. She will keep her word.” Morghiad relaxed his hold on Jarynd.

The scarred man immediately sat up. “I don’t like it.”

“It is not ideal, I agree. But I can tell you that she is honourable. She does not have the heart of a mindless killer.”

“But don’t you see the problem this creates? If we allow her to live, then how can we justify getting rid of the others?” Jarynd said.

“We can’t.”

“You propose to stop all investigations? Just let them run free? This is utter madness. Your father will find out and then have us executed, too.”

Morghiad pulled at the top of his boot. “I cannot see another one executed. I can no longer be a part of it. Can you not see how wrong it is, Jarynd? Muscica’s own mother and sister were wielders. No other country pursues this agenda. Killing many hundreds of children is surely worse than one-hundred armed mercenaries. As for my father, I will deal with him when the time comes. He will not dare to argue with the man who controls his army.” That was a bold statement for Morghiad, but Jarynd needed to know how committed he was.

A gust of wind rattled the windows. Jarynd shook his head but hesitated before speaking further: “You’re the most able of us. She is your responsibility. Perhaps keeping her close will be for the better. I will keep her secret, then. But if she steps out of line, Morghiad, I
swear
I’ll see her dead. And, the other kanaala must be told, what few of us remain. You’re lucky Corvid met his demise when he did.” Jarynd eyed Morghiad closely. “Or perhaps it wasn’t luck?”