City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) (31 page)

He started off quietly. “You disobeyed my orders.”

Her stomach felt as if it might sink through the bench and into the floor. “I had to. I promised to protect them.”

“And you would be in better shape to do that if you had followed my instructions!” he growled.

“I couldn’t watch them die. I swore to defend my brothers!”

The man who had carried her to safety spoke up, “I believe she did save us, lord-captain. Nine of our men would have fallen under that fireball.”

Morghiad gritted his teeth. “She broke an oath playing hero. I cannot have soldiers breaking their oaths.”

Artemi felt lost. “I’d have had to break an oath no matter what.”

His brow softened a touch, but only a touch. “You will not get any special treatment from me, Artemi D’Avrohan. We will decide on a punishment over the days to come.” He stepped closer to inspect the wound. “Why has this not been properly dealt with yet?”

Aglos wrung his hands. “Well, you see, my lord-captain, it would not be proper for me to remove a woman’s -” he cleared his throat, “she- ah...” he became quite pink.

Morghiad appraised the curtains that had been erected for her privacy, and shook his head. “Alright, I’ll do it.” He whipped a dagger out from his waist. Aglos and the other man’s eyes bulged and they both backed out of the bay in haste. Without hesitation or embarrassment, the kahr tore through her breeches with the blade, revealing the skin around the stab-wound. Wavy grey striations grew from it, giving the odd impression of a star.

“Poison’s in your blood now,” he said, sounding grim. “It won’t heal like that. I have to remove some of the tissue from the sides of the injury if it is to close at all.” His gaze burned into her. “Bite on this.” He handed her the dagger, hilt first. It still dripped with her poisoned blood. “And it will help you deal with the pain if you watch what I do.”

Every one of her muscles had tensed, which would hardly help. She bit down on the dagger handle as bitterly as she could, and leaned back upon her hands. This time Morghiad drew a knife and gave it a rudimentary rinse in a nearby bucket.  He placed his hand firmly on the inner of her thigh to hold it steady. His touch sent an unexpectedly pleasurable burst of fire up her leg, almost making her forget the pain. Odd.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

He started cutting a full half-inch from the edges of the wound. The first half of it was agony, but when he embarked on the second she began to feel dizzy. She dug her teeth deeper into the hilt of the dagger and tried to see through the grey. It was no good, her head felt hot and the room was spinning. Artemi passed out.

He caught her round the shoulders before her head hit the bench, and lowered her gently onto the hard pillow. Morghiad removed his dagger from her mouth. It had gained a few shallow teeth marks. The kahr smiled to himself and resumed his operation. She should have blacked-out sooner, but the woman was tougher than Tegran cattle hide. When he had finished, the muscle and skin knitted together almost instantaneously. There were a few gaps that had to be sewn back together, though Morghiad’s hand was not the best at it. He completed the stitches to an acceptable standard, ripped away the obstructive clothing that remained and turned a bandage around her leg. She had been a very foolish woman indeed. Perhaps heroes were born headstrong and defiant.

She was lucky, very lucky, not to have been killed, since there was a lot less of her to fill with poison than a typical soldier. He assessed his handiwork. Artemi had a very fine pair of legs, not that he had seen many women’s to compare them to. But they gave his eyes pleasure nonetheless.  The kahr removed his cloak and covered her with it, it was a cold night.

He left the bay and was greeted by a small crowd of men, no doubt with serious business for him to attend to. “Well?” Morghiad folded his arms.

“Is she alright?” asked Jarynd.

The kahr suppressed a frown. “She’ll be fine. She just needs to rest.”

The men’s stern expressions seemed to relax considerably.

“Do we have a count for the losses yet?” Morghiad asked.

Aglos stepped forward. “Five died in here tonight; there are two more whom I fear will not make it to the morning.”

Then Eupith muscled in, “Latest count on the field is fifty-two. I’d add twenty to that at a guess.”

“You’re saying fewer than eighty of our men died today?” It had been far bloodier than that, surely?

“It was a rout, lord-captain. Their strength is in bowmen. Once we’d passed through the arrow storm they were on the back foot,” said Eupith.

Of course, eighty men dead still meant he had presided over the loss of eighty lives. He could not rejoice in that, but it
was
several-hundred fewer than he had anticipated. Pulling that arrow shield along with the army had reaped immeasurable benefits, though it had been tiring work. The aches of the day were beginning to seep into his bones, yet he still had some energy left. “I’ll come and help you clear the bodies.”

“Not necessary, captain. It is almost done. You should get some rest.” Eupith said with a stern set to his jaw.

Aglos chimed in, “The Lady Artemi could probably do with someone watching her. Since my lord... ah. Well, since...” He cleared his throat.

“Since what?” Morghiad couldn’t help but allow frustration colour his voice.

“Er... well...” the medic stumbled.

Jarynd finished: “What he is trying to say is - given your special relationship with her, why don’t you-”

“What relationship?” the kahr demanded, unfolding his arms.

The men fell silent.

He was too tired to argue with them and their ridiculous ideas. “Fine,” was all he said before he turned back to the bay.

He drew a chair alongside Artemi’s bench and unstrapped the swords from his back as he thought. The men liked to make rumours when there were none. Now, Silar and Artemi:
there
was something worth gossiping about. He pulled off his coat and shirt; both would need replacing when he returned. He would give them a wash in a river tomorrow, if there was time.

A nick on his arm was giving him trouble, and he’d have to see to it if he wanted any sleep. True, he had gained much experience with cleaning up field wounds as a cadet, but it was incredibly tedious work. Morghiad picked up a sarkha and seated himself to begin the washing. The gash was an easy one to tidy up, and minimal stitching was required. The other, smaller cuts closed almost as soon as he bathed them. To his left, Artemi’s breaths came slowly and quietly. She looked very serene in the low lamp light. Morghiad reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her face, sensing the delicate simmer of her power though it. If anything, she had become prettier over the last six months.

He relaxed back into his chair, folded his arms and drifted into a guardian sleep. It meant he was still sensitive to sounds, easily awoken and his muscles would be quick to react. It was something he had yet to teach Artemi, but it was hardly appropriate to stay overnight in her bedroom or have her stay in his. She was still a little young to learn it, in any case. He looked into the Blazes and searched for Artemi’s stream inside it. She was already the second-strongest of all of them. Thankfully, the other kanaala had not made the association yet, but that could not last forever.

Morghiad allowed the energy to drift from his mind. Guardian sleep did not prevent strange dreams from invading the blackness, however, and he saw the eyes of the wielder he had pacified -saw the spirit drain from them. In a way it was worse than watching a soldier die.

He could have done that to Artemi if he had really wanted to. Any kanaala of any ability could do that to her if she could not defend herself, if she had no one to protect her. In another dream he was haunted by Ilena’s panicked face, the last he saw of her before she was executed. He twitched. Something had awoken him. It was dark in the medical tent, but he could see that Artemi was still sleeping soundly under his cloak. He pulled the closest sword out of its sheath in silence. Something was moving around outside, something that wanted to stay quiet. The men would have no call to disturb him, especially if they thought he had climbed under the cloak with her.

He readied every muscle to pounce on whatever was coming. Another eisiel? Morghiad did not relish the idea of facing one of those now.

A large shape entered the bay. With everything he had, he threw himself at the figure.

“Agh! Bloody Achellon, Morghiad, it’s me!” Silar spluttered, catching his balance on a wooden tent support.

“Oh. Thought you were a monster.”

Artemi stirred behind him. He turned back to check on her. She had moved to sleep on her good side, but was seemingly unaware of her company.

“I heard... was it bad?” Silar whispered.

Morghiad compressed his lips in the darkness. “She took a sword to the leg. It’ll heal in a few weeks though.”

His friend shuffled his feet. “The other men say you will punish her. Have you decided what it’ll be yet?”

He had not come close to deciding. He wanted to put that off for as long as possible. “No.”

“Don’t be too harsh on her. I know you want to prove to the others that she’s like them, but you and I both know she’s not.”

Morghiad did not reply. His head was too clouded to think properly.

Silar continued, “I’ll watch her for the rest of the night. Why don’t you get some proper sleep?”

Full sleep would be a good thing. He ached for it. But leave her with this overly affectionate limpet of a man? Surely that was not responsible. Then again, if anyone could be trusted to protect her, it was Silar. The idiot man would probably lay down own his life just to prove it.

“Don’t do anything... amorous.” The kahr picked up his coat and swords, and left.

Chapter 10

Smooth water slopped over the edge of the wooden bucket and onto the polished stone beneath, causing Artemi to curse quietly. Her strength was waning and she still had another half-hour’s worth of trips to make. This was her punishment for breaking an oath of obedience. Not only was it tiring, but worse, it was also humiliating. Guards lined the entire route she had to trudge buckets of water along: from a tap at one side of the castle, to a drain at the other. It was utterly pointless work. It benefitted no one at all, except perhaps in providing amusement to the other soldiers.

She’d had to do it every day from sunrise until sunset, or until her spirit was utterly broken. Even more soul-destroying, Silar would make a habit of posting himself on duty somewhere along the route, just so that he could gawp at her downfall. Even Morghiad felt the need to occasionally ‘check’ on her adherence to the sentence. Her leg stung from the sweat that now coated her body in a thin sheen.  Over three weeks had passed since the injury had been exacted, and it was being rather leisurely in healing itself up. She gritted her teeth and continued, passing by the now too-familiar portrait of King Acher. He was quite an ugly man.

Who had designed bucket handles to be so uncomfortable, anyway? At least the outdoor air was closer now. The chill of it touched her skin and she was grateful for its cool caresses. She inhaled the new air deeply. It smelled of oak fires and roasted boar - someone would eat well tonight. Artemi’s stomach growled as she passed another guard in the black and green. They had all returned heroes of Cadra from the battle; huge crowds had turned out to welcome them home, and Artemi was bitterly disappointed she could not stand among her brothers to bathe in a little adoration. Perhaps it was fair. They, after all, had gone into battle while she had only pottered around at the back and then gotten herself injured. Artemi walked faster as she approached the archway that led to the courtyard. Could it be? 

She examined the dark skies coming into view. The sun had set! She had completed her suffering for another day! She set down her buckets and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling as her muscles re-worked themselves into sensible positions once more. Artemi opened her eyes, reprised the full buckets and emptied them into a drain in the courtyard. It was time to see the captain.