City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) (47 page)

Artemi lay stiffly on the rug in their tent. She didn’t like the unhappiness Morghiad was feeling, not at all. As if the man hadn’t been through enough, and that square-faced lump had gone and dropped a fireball of revelations on him. She still wasn’t entirely sure they were true. But then, Acher looked nothing like her beautiful kahr, and something had convinced Morghiad of the old soldier’s claims. Maybe there was some truth in them. Artemi knew very little of Gialdin beyond the feast day and the battle it celebrated. If Morghiad was a son of Gialdin, then surely such celebrations would be a huge slap in the face for him. Worse, he was leading the very army which had been responsible for the fall of his country and the deaths of his family. Acher had been cunning, indeed. If Morghiad wasn’t his son, publicising the truth would lose the kahr his inheritance, his army and possibly his life. The captain liked to be honest with his men, but his honesty in this respect could have catastrophic consequences. Artemi’s head felt thick with problems and contradictions.

Morghiad stepped through the tent flaps and sat in front of her. She wasn’t entirely sure how to comfort him, so started by wrapping her arms around him. He buried his face in her hair and cuddled her tightly. His back was stinging again. “Will you let me see to those wounds?” she asked. He nodded with weary resignation and began stripping his bloodied coat and shirt. The captain had a very fine body indeed: well-muscled torso and arms, but still athletic enough to be fast. He had excellent thighs, too; though always seemed surprised at her admiration of him. Artemi made him lie face-down on the floor while she cleaned the dried blood from his skin. Most of the wounds had healed a little further than when she’d seen them the day before, but there were still strips of exposed muscle. She wondered if it would be safe to give him more of that swift liquor. Probably not just yet. The cleaning took a while before Artemi had him sit up, and then she ran bandages slowly and tightly around his upper body. The captain appeared to be thinking hard about the news he’d just received; only making her more impatient to discuss it with him.

“I arrived at Cadra when I was four,” he said softly.

She crawled round to meet his eyes. “I thought you said that was normal.”

He nodded. “What if it was a coincidence? I have no recollection of my life before the castle.”

“There is only one man who we can be sure knows the truth,” Artemi said.

Morghiad grimaced. “I’m beginning to think he spins nothing but lies.”

She felt his hurt keenly through knots in his river, and wished there was something she could do to fix it. “My love, you are captain of these men. And they would not give you up easily. We are your real family.” Artemi ran her fingers gently down his cheek.

Anger welled up in him. “How can I claim to be captain when I am not even a kahr of Calidell? All I am heir to is a country that no longer exists and a pile of stories in history books!”

“You are their captain because you earned the right to it.” She took a breath. “Then you believe the prisoner?”

He pushed down his anger. “I remember my sister. Or at least the name. I remember having a sister.”

It was possible either way... if the girl had abilities like he did, Acher almost certainly would have disposed of her regardless. “I don’t know what advice to offer. All I can promise you is, no matter what the outcome, you will always have my loyalty and my love.”

He smiled at that. “You and I could end up out in the woods with nothing but the shoes on our feet.”

“That sounds like a good future.”

Morghiad pulled off Artemi’s clothing and fell to the blanket-covered floor with her.  Where he found the energy, she never understood, but marvelled as he kissed her whilst simultaneously throwing complicated forms of Blaze at the walls of the tent. She suddenly felt very, very hot indeed.

The brilliant white of the walls glowed effervescently, even in shadow. A cool autumn breeze flowed in through the vast window; carrying with it the noises of shouting and clattering metal. Morghiad threw the wooden horse onto the floor in annoyance. He’d never liked it. His friend had a better one, anyway. It was so boring being shut away in this big, empty room alone. Wasn’t anyone going to come and get him? He climbed up on a box to look out of the window. His vantage point was high enough to reveal that there were lots of men in black outside the walls. They all seemed to be shouting something, though he couldn’t understand what. A flash of red caught his eye. It was a woman’s hair, lit like flames in the sunlight. She ran towards the walls with considerable speed; a group of men following behind. Suddenly the outer wall of white began to shimmer and wobble. Morghiad inched back from the window, but kept watching. The wall began to bulge in the middle as if struggling to contain some unseen leviathan, and then it burst. White chunks of crystalline rock flew in all directions, pursued by waves of bright blue energy.

Morghiad fell off the box in shock, but climbed on top again to see what was happening. The soldiers were pouring in over the remains of the wall now, yelling and shouting and brandishing swords. The sound of the door behind him turned his attention. Alliah. She looked worried but offered him a thin smile. “Come on Mor, we’ve got to go now,” she said, holding her hand out. He ran to his sister and grasped her thin fingers, and together they rushed down the luminous corridors. A tall man stepped out in front of them and Morghiad tripped headlong into the icy floor in trying to avoid him. He felt himself being picked up and hoisted onto the man’s shoulder. The kahr struggled to escape but was nowhere near strong enough; the man’s shoulders were like tree trunks! Pale paving slabs moved away from him at frightening speed. “Are you taking us to mother and father, Captain Terand?” His sister asked from below. The big man grunted what Morghiad thought was a ‘yes.’

Something heavy blasted through the hall window to the side of them, forcing Morghiad’s carrier into the opposite wall.

The man took a few breaths before steadying himself again. “You alright, little guy?”

“Yes,” The kahr said. He wasn’t terribly impressed with being carried around like this.

“Tough as nails, aren’t you?” Captain Terand said as he bent down to pick something up.

Morghiad saw his sister’s black braid fling over the captain’s other shoulder. Was she dead?  She didn’t seem to be moving. He’d seen dead animals before in the kitchens, and didn’t want his sister to end up like them. Alliah was always kinder to him than the nurse. Everyone was kinder than that nurse and her stupid rules.

Terand ran with them both for a little while longer until they reached the royal apartments. As soon as they arrived he heard his parents’ voices. It was so good to hear them. His father plucked him out of the captain’s arms and squeezed him tightly.

“Put me down!” Morghiad yelled. How many times did he have to tell them?

His father set the kahr on his feet but kept a hand on his son’s head. Morghiad looked up. The dark-blond man glanced back down at him with a weak smile. Worry marked his father’s square jaw. Morghiad turned his eyes to Alliah, who was being checked over by their mother. Strange light sparkled around the older woman. Alliah sat up unexpectedly, quite of her own accord; green eyes open and bright.

“We’ll put them both in the book room,” his father said solemnly.

His mother turned around and nodded. He always thought his mother was the prettiest out of everyone’s; and that’s what his father always said, so it had to be true. She moved forward, wrapped him in her arms and kissed him on the forehead. “I hope you can forgive us one day. Make sure that fighter girl takes good care of you, Mor,” a tear rolled down her cheek. “I love you
so
much.” His mother stood and went to embrace Alliah, whispering something in her ear. The four of them walked into a small chamber stacked high with books, and his father knelt down to give him a hug. “Always remember to guard your left side and never underestimate even the weakest-looking warrior. Fight to save what you love, never to destroy what you hate. And always be ready to listen to counsel, you never know when it might help. And here...” He pulled out a silver-hilted dagger. “...Take care of this for me.” His father handed the blade to the kahr, and ruffled his hair. The tall, dark-blond man went to say something to Alliah and hugged her tightly. A furious crash from the room beyond interrupted their embrace.

His father whipped round, drawing his sword, and ran to the source of the sound. The air around his mother came alight, and she followed close behind her husband, teeth gritted. Alliah ran to Morghiad and grabbed his hand, dragging him to a cupboard. “Get inside!” She pushed him in with full force and shut the door.  There was a gap at the hinge; the kahr looked through it. He could just make out his father and mother, battling a group of soldiers. Red flames burst out around them, engulfing everyone in the room. When they cleared, his mother was lying motionless on the floor. Dark hair fanned around her head. Bodies continued to fall left and right from his father’s blade, until no more of the black and green soldiers remained. The tall man dropped to his knees beside his wife and put both hands to her face. Morghiad could hear his sister weeping quietly in front of the cupboard. He wanted to go and comfort her, be strong for her. Someone else stamped into the room, out of view; the invader’s voice was gravelly and rough. His father did not remove his gaze from the queen’s body, and he did not raise his sword. He looked... lost or confused. Abruptly a blade cut cleanly through the kneeling man’s neck, killing him instantly. Morghiad did not want to look anymore; he wanted to close his eyes, but was paralysed with fear.

The executioner strode into the book room; his narrow eyes glittered at the sight of Alliah. Alliah was screaming at the bearded man, yelling at him to get out, to leave them alone. The man advanced rapidly with his sword brandished; he shouted words Morghiad did not understand. He picked Alliah up by the neck of her dress, slit her throat right through and dropped her to the floor. Morghiad fell against the back of the cupboard in shock and clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle the scream that wanted to escape. The bearded man must have heard the noise for he flung open the cupboard doors, grinning wildly. He hauled the kahr into the air. “I didn’t know about you, little boy!” The older man raised his sword but hesitated. He looked thoughtful for a minute, studying his quarry closely. “Do you know why you were a secret, lad? Eh?”

Morghiad shook his head.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”

“Mor,” the kahr whispered.

“That would be short for Morghiad, yes? Well, you won’t be needing this where we’re going!” The bearded man threw the silver dagger onto the floor. “You will call me father,” he said sternly, and stepped over the bodies with the young kahr in his arms.

Morghiad sat up. He wanted to cry, to shout, to vomit. Nothing would come. Artemi, woken by his movement, drowsily reached for his arm. His emotion must have spurred her alert, for tension touched her voice when she spoke: “Another nightmare?”

“Will you look at the crest on my shoulder?”

Confusion filled Artemi’s face in the half-light.

 “Please.” Morghiad turned his back to her. She hesitated, but presently he felt her delicate fingers trace the outline of the mark, fire sprouting from each point of contact. “What do you see?”

“A hawk on a sword and feathers. I don’t know what -” Her fingers pressed harder into his shoulder blade. “Wait.” It was a minute before she spoke again. “It was made by two different wielders.”

The kahr did not want to hear it, but pressed on. “Can you tell what is underneath?”

“Underneath?” Her mind was working groggily. “I’ll need to use Blaze to reveal it,” she said.

Morghiad scrambled for the flames, caught them and released control to her. Abruptly a soft white light filled the tent; a light from within the skin of his shoulder.

“It’s a large cat of some kind. A panther, I think – raised on its hind legs. What did you see in your nightmare?”

“A memory,” the kahr said. The horror of it dug at his heart. How could he have forgotten them? He had disgraced them deeply with every action he had performed since their deaths.

Artemi waited quietly for him to continue.

“I remember...I...” It was almost too painful to put into words. Morghiad turned round to her, summoning the strength from their tie, “I saw them die. My parents and... my sister. Acher cut her throat.” The image echoed through his mind. “She was just a child.”

The flame haired woman’s eyes widened. She could feel every sadness he felt, and every anger. The emotions echoed between them. Artemi looked at the floor; she was experiencing hurt at his pain, and some curiosity. “You said parents.”

Morghiad nodded. “My mother was alive. And I knew her.” How it was possible, he could not fathom; but he remembered her face clearly.

Artemi placed her head against his arm and began to weep the tears he could not. “What will you do?”