City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) (29 page)

He felt the presence of someone tall behind him, and turned. “Morghiad.” He gave a nod to the man.

The captain grunted, but lost no time in getting to the point. “I can’t find Artemi and my time is limited. Will you locate her and bring her to the meeting later?”

Silar nodded, concealing his enthusiasm.

“Good. I’ll see you there.” The dark man strode off to complete his many other duties.

Silar threw on his cloak, stuffed the rest of the bread into his mouth, and made his way to where the wives and children were settling themselves. One of the soldiers would finish setting up his tent before he returned. That was one of the nicer things about rank. When he walked through the first group of women, he immediately felt inadequate. He did like their attentions, but the coy smiles were nothing in comparison to the crowds Morghiad had drawn two days before. The captain had only been bathing in a lake, and half the females in bloody Calidell had turned out to watch the spectacle. The captain tended to keep to his tent now, which was far better-advised.

Silar’s dark blue eyes scanned the multicoloured tents for a flash of red hair, and did not find one. A few children ran around the beginnings of a camp fire, pretending to invoke some wielder flames. Silar could not help but smile to himself. The soldiers had not been able to tell their own families about Artemi, but already their changing attitudes had affected their children. When King Acher was gone, perhaps in another few centuries, Morghiad would almost certainly invite wielders back to the country. If he lived long enough, that was. Captains of the Calidellian army could usually expect a hundred years of life if they were sensible. The kahr was not always sensible.

A glint of fast-moving purple caught the corner of his eye. Artemi had been wearing one of her new riding dresses, coincidentally in purple. He followed it behind a large tent. She was there, hair covered in a grey shawl and looking somewhat sheepish.

“Avoiding me again, Artemi?” he said.

She compressed her lips and looked to the side. The woman was utterly unaware of her effervescence.

Silar folded his arms. “Well, you’ll be happy to hear I’m not pursuing you for sport. Morghiad has asked that you attend tonight’s meeting, though what role he intends you to perform I do not know.”

The woman appeared to relax a little. She dropped the shawl, revealing the golden red hair beneath, and the evening sun brought it aflame. He longed to touch her hair when it did that, and often wondered if he would feel any heat from it. “Alright then,” was all she said. She followed him back into the melee of women, children and noise.

They walked in silence back to Silar’s tent, where he collected some important maps and rosters. When he re-emerged from inside, she tried to say something, but faltered. He gave her an encouraging smile, but it didn’t work with the desired effect. Instead she clamped her mouth shut and looked away.

“What is wrong with you, girl?”

She kicked gently at the ground with one foot before returning her gaze to him. “You know we can’t be... you know,” she whispered.

This was not something he wanted to discuss. At all. “Yes, Artemi.”

“Then why do you keep...” She sighed before continuing, “Perhaps I am imagining it. Tell me if I am. Why do I feel as if you look at me? A lot.”

“Because I do.And because you are beautiful. Fool woman.”

Her eyes widened at that. And then she blushed and looked to the ground.

Silar pulled his documents together and frowned. “There’s nothing to be done about it. Now come with me and we can see what the lord-captain has to say.”

The pair made their way to the largest tent in the centre of the camp, with its hawk flag waving above and guards scattered about. Morghiad was pacing about outside with a reassuringly expressionless face. He looked up when they arrived, but continued his pacing in earnest.

When Beodrin, Beetan and Luna joined the group the kahr motioned them inside. Four men in black and green already sat on cushions along one side. They were the new kanaala recruits Morghiad had found in the Calidellian countryside, brought in to replace the two who had died some months earlier. Silar was not entirely sure what their attitude was to Artemi, but the captain appeared comfortable with their proximity to her. As far as Silar could tell, all but one of the men were under forty. He seated himself next to Artemi, who was carefully arranging her skirts and not looking at anyone. Rahake, Tortrix and Baculo stamped into the tent with Jarynd and Passerid. Finally the last of the lieutenants, Hunsar and Eupith, strode in with jolly smiles. Pavon had been left to mind Cadra, though he sorely would have wished to be there with them.

Morghiad announced the meeting had opened by unravelling several of the maps Silar had brought with him. The kahr added a few of his own to the increasingly large composite. “As you are well-aware,” he began, “we will enter the province of Gorena tomorrow. Reports are that the Hirrahan force remains in a single unit, located somewhere near here.” He pointed to the hilly region, north of the provincial capital. “It should take us another day to reach them, so I propose doing two things: one, following tonight’s camp, we do not stop before we reach them; and two, we leave the families in the safety of this region.” He pointed to some valley woodland, just off the main road. “As usual, we will take half of the supply wagons with us and they, along with the runners...” He looked at Artemi. “...will be located half a mile from any battle that occurs.” The other men nodded in agreement. Pressing straight for the Hirrahans would prevent them from having as much time to prepare. It would also mean his men would get their fight before the tension grew tiring.

Their captain continued, “As for the specifics, I understand that they number fifteen thousand. A third of these will be hired sword hands or new recruits from the locality. We do outnumber them slightly, but it is not something that will guarantee our victory. We must assume that they have situated themselves on higher ground and that they will have with them a number of wielders. With the exception of Beodrin and myself, I would like all kanaala to remain at the back of our advances and devote their attentions primarily to thwarting any wielder attack. Artemi, you are to stay out of this battle. I will only call you into it if we get into some serious trouble.”

She hardly looked content with his decision, but nodded her head in acceptance anyway. Morghiad didn’t want to lose his secret weapon any more than Silar, and there would be no gain in scarring that pretty face of hers.

“Good,” the green-eyed man said. “Upon reaching them, I want us to break into three divisions, three battalions in each. Of course, if the terrain prevents it we may have to limit ourselves to two divisions. Luna, you know this area well, do you not?”

An average-build man with hair so pale it was nearly white, Luna’s pink face conveyed almost as little emotion as Morghiad’s did. “Aye. Grew up there, I did. I believe they will have headed for the Hill of Monuments. It’s the broadest and highest of that area. And it has some good roads to the towns. If they are there however, you should know that one side of that hill is sheer cliffs.”

Morghiad rubbed at his stubble. “How high and how wide. Which side?”

Luna lowered his light brown eyes to the maps. “North side, I recall. They are too high to scale. Probably a hundred feet. As for width, I’m not sure. Probably a good quarter of the hill’s circumference.”

“Very well then. If they are there then I propose we stick to two divisions.  When we advance they will likely try to run through the gap between our divisions. Both battalions either side of this gap must be ready to close in on them. Silar and Eupith, I want you both to direct the clinch. Do any of you have any questions so far?”

Luna jumped in first. “I’ve just remembered something else. The ground on the west is rocky and tough to traverse with horses. It can only be crossed on foot, and slowly at that.”

Morghiad remained unfazed. “We’ll have to assess when we get there, but they will have just as much trouble crossing it as we will. Perhaps we could set up a line of guards along our side of it. With bowmen.”

Eupith chimed in with his happy, sing-song like voice. “That lot like to launch hails of arrow fire before they fight up close. They’re not so good as we are with their swords, but they’ll try to pick us off before we’ve reached them.”

“I already have a plan for that. Artemi and I will create a shield against them before we advance. Their kanaala will pick it apart eventually, but it should serve to protect us for a while.” The kahr leant back on his hands.

Tortrix was next to speak. “How many bows do we have, captain?”

“Five hundred of our own men, one thousand among the hired.” Morghiad looked around at the group. “Any more questions?” His eyes settled on Artemi. “I can see you want to say something. What is it?”

She looked around nervously and then cleared her throat. “I was just wondering...” She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “...would it not be better for the men at the back of your divisions to fan round and fill the end of the gap? Then it’ll look like a temptingly weak point, but be stronger.”

Rahake scoffed and Baculo, hitherto silent, guffawed loudly. Morghiad gave them a fierce look. “Get over your pride, men. You are jealous because you did not think of it first.” He turned back to Artemi. “You may be right. We shall make our decision when the scouts return tomorrow.”

Silar watched Artemi out of the corner of his eye for the rest of the meeting. She remained entirely silent and moved very little. He also noted that Morghiad glanced at her from time to time, no doubt drinking her beauty in like the milk of Achellon. None of the other attendees appeared to notice it; even Artemi was oblivious to the attention she received.

Once they all had a chance to speak and a glass or two of tanno wine had been shared, Morghiad brought the meeting to a close. Silar remained seated on his cushion as the others departed, but when the tent was empty he stood and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I have known you for longer than most, Morghiad. Tell me honestly, are you in love with Artemi?”

The captain looked surprised by his question initially, but brought his features under control. “I can see why you might think that. I find her beautiful, as many men seem to. And I enjoy her company. I have no feelings for her beyond that.”

Silar was shocked. Was the man utterly deluded? Or had he pushed his emotions so far into a corner of his brain that even he couldn’t see them anymore? “Are you sure?”

“Well
I
don’t forget what it is I’m supposed to be doing or where I am every time I see her, and nor do I stare after her as you do. Just because I am kanaala doesn’t mean I have to sleep with every wielder I meet.” The kahr set about rolling up the maps on the floor.

Silar watched on for a moment. “My admiration for her is no secret. Just... make sure she is safe.” He picked up his own papers and left the tent, feeling just as irritated as he had earlier.

The cool evening sun had favoured their side, illuminating the Hill of Monuments from the south with sharp outlines. Artemi watched in silence as thousands of men lined up in two trapezium-shaped formations, their sparse plates of black armour glinting softly in the daylight. At the top of the hill she could make out the dark cloud of people that comprised the Hirrahans. Already they had sent a few volleys of wielder fireballs across, but Morghiad and the others had unravelled each of them before they had come close. He sat next to her now, on his massive warhorse and looking as grim as he ever did. She was delighted, and somewhat embarrassed, at his gift of the bay mare she now rode. He said he had chosen it because it was a good runner and well-trained for close-fighting, but she could not help feeling it was a touch flashy. At least she had finally been allowed to dress in her uniform and ride with the other men. She had missed their company on the journey. Artemi turned to face the supply wagons, now entirely manned by medics and the less-experienced soldiers. She would soon be among them, fetching things and helping the casualties.

The kahr moved his horse closer to hers. “It is time.” Nervousness trickled down her spine; it was his responsibility to get the shield right, but the two of them would glow like the sun to any enemy wielders on the hill. Morghiad nodded to the other kanaala to let them know he was about to begin, and took her hand. The routine was so familiar to her now, and she could have closed her eyes and identified each kanaala by a single touch. Morghiad was very different from the others, of course, strength aside. And the quality of his control felt different, too. She felt less like she was having her organs forcibly pulled out, and more like she was being given a warm embrace by the stony man. She had tried to hug him for real twice: once when she had first met him, and again upon receiving the horse. Both times he had pushed her away as if she smelled utterly terrible. He was a peculiar man, indeed.

She patted Glacier, named after her benefactor’s character, on the neck as The Blazes filled her body. Horses seemed to be able to feel it quite keenly, and the mare stamped her hooves to prove it.