City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) (51 page)

BOOK: City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array)
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Silar’s eyes locked onto her second sword. He frowned briefly. “Did you find what you were looking for at Gialdin?”

The kahr nodded. “I can see why Acher was envious of it. If I could move Cadra there I would. He deserves to pay for what he did.”

Artemi filled her heart with love for him, hoping that he would find strength in it. Morghiad’s grim face relaxed a little. She could feel a smile building up inside him, though it did not surface.

“Well, I could do with a good sleep before we move off again tomorrow.” Silar stood and offered a nod to them both. “I will see you then, King Morghiad.” He grinned and walked out while the kahr scowled after him.

Artemi regarded him as he lay back onto a row of cushions and propped his head on his hand. His eyes betrayed that he was deep in thought. She had no doubt that he would make an excellent king for Calidell, and probably wouldn’t look too bad with a crown on his head. It was what he’d been raised for, after all. The situation surprised her in more than one way: growing up in the poorest district of the capital, she’d never expected to be the lover of a king – and certainly not one so handsome. She didn’t want to interrupt his thought, and went to study the maps that lay in the corner. There was something very calming about looking at plans of far-off lands, their foreign names and the mysterious drawings of features there. On the top of the pile lay Koviere’s drawing of the Kemeni mountain caves. The network was enormous: so vast that it stretched over the edge of the parchment and onto another. How it had persisted without the knowledge of the Kemeni government was an utter mystery. She placed the map to one side and examined the one below. It was clearly an old map, since it marked Gialdin out as a separate country with a large, white castle near its centre. Gialdin had been a key acquisition for Calidell as it provided a direct route to the sea and the vast trade networks beyond. Artemi wondered what the sea really looked like. She’d read books about it and seen paintings, but the idea of a lake that stretched out to eternity seemed impossible. Her eye was then drawn to a huge, green triangle on a separate continent: Dekusu Forest. It covered an area the size of modern Calidell and was dotted with a few small towns. What must it have been like to grow up in an endless sea of trees?

She sensed Morghiad was watching her and suddenly felt rather self-conscious. He came to look over her shoulder. “What interests you this time?”

“Dekusu forest. Do you think it is anything like the woodlands around the city of Gialdin or more like those near Cadra?”

“I’ve heard it is like neither one.” He ran a hand over her hair. “There is a book about it in my chambers. It says that they are greener than any normal green, and the trees grow taller than the Cadran walls. Perhaps some of it is a little poetic, but I understand the forests are thick enough to prevent farming and that cities could never grow very large there. It is an excellent place to hide, though you may never find your way out again.”

He was right. If you were horseless with only the sun and stars to guide you, it could take months to reach the coast. Artemi returned her attention to the map. They were still at least three weeks from Cadra. She was glad for the time away from the constraints of castle life. At least while they marched she was free to enjoy Morghiad’s company and she could be open about her wielding ability amongst the soldiers. That freedom couldn’t be valued.

 

 

 

 

The great crowd of chattering soldiers thronged in the practice hall, proud to be wearing their uniforms again. Three days had passed since they’d returned to the capital and in that time news of their exploits had spread through the city like a plains storm. Great, sinking cliffs and caves with castles in them tended to get townsfolk talking. The soldiers laughed loudly between themselves, sharing tales of the reactions they’d received. Orwin grinned as Artemi came to stand beside him. He felt a little ridiculous to be her sergeant given that she had bested everyone in the battalion, and that she was a famous hero. There was always that amusing aspect to be considered when he gave her orders. She gave him a weak smile in return. The sergeant thought it better not to ask, though it made him worry. He’d seen the lieutenants before the rest of the men had entered the hall, and all of their faces had been ashen. He looked at the red-haired soldier again. Her red lips were thinned by concern. “Whatever it is, Artemi, you will always have us at your side.”

She raised those large brown eyes of hers to regard him, and looked about to speak. But she said nothing. She touched his arm gently instead, and resumed her distant stare. Orwin felt worry creep through his spine. He hadn’t seen her react like that before. If she hadn’t been Morghiad’s woman, he would have given her a hug to cheer her up. It always seemed to work on his sisters. And Artemi was like a rather beautiful sister.

The dark figure of the captain flowed onto the stage in a swirl of cloak and sword. The hall hushed in recognition of his presence. He had certainly earned the respect of his men in the short time he had led them. Orwin knew they’d follow him to more horrifying places than those dire caves if he thought it was a good idea. Morghiad looked over his men, face grim. Come to think of it, the sergeant hadn’t seen him crack a smile since leaving the caves; not that the man smiled much in any case. The captain motioned for someone to join him on the platform. A low hum of chatter followed the guest from the back of the hall, but even with the gentle slope of the floor Orwin couldn’t see who it was. After a few seconds two soldiers climbed onto the raised area with a stretchered man between them. That curious giant they’d taken prisoner sat upright on the carrier. Most of his left arm had now re-grown, which was quite remarkable considering the chunk Morghiad had taken out of it only a month earlier. The soldiers set the giant down next to the captain and went to stand at the edge of the platform; the noises of their feet amplified by the shape of the room.

The dark man began to speak, “As you all know, I have given my pledge of honesty to each soldier here, for I believe that trust is an essential part of any army. And trust can only be earned through honesty. Following our exit from the caves, I learned of a truth that had remained hidden from me. It was not kept from me by any man here, for I believe that any soldiers with knowledge of this secret were either put to death, banished or imprisoned. The arbiter of all this was, of course, the man you know as my father, King Acher. And what he sought to hide from you, me and the rest of the country was that I am not his son.”

Orwin felt his stomach clench. There had always been jokes about that, since the two men looked so dissimilar... but why admit it to his own army? Surely he knew they didn’t care about that.

Morghiad continued, “And it is my genuine parentage and the manner of events that brought me here which complicate the situation further. This man, Koviere Dohsal, informed me that my parents were from Gialdin and that their names had been Hedinar Kantari and Medea of House Jade’an.”

A few gasps and grunts flew from the soldiers in the hall. Orwin recognised the woman’s name but couldn’t place it. But then he’d only been ten or twelve when Gialdin had been seized.

The kahr... if he was still a kahr, paced the stage. “I had good reason to doubt that any of this was true. But hearing the names of my family sparked a memory. I remember the moment soldiers stormed the white walls of Gialdin’s castle. I remember Acher walking in to murder every surviving member of my family. He executed my father and slit my sister’s throat without remorse.” The tall man stopped and looked to the floor. “So you see, I am not a kahr of Calidell at all and I have no right to command you as I do.”

“My Lord Captain!”Shouted one of the soldiers. “While it’s true that you came to Cadra just after Gialdin was... ah... taken, I remember reading about Queen Medea often in the years before, and there was never any mention of a son. Kahriss Alliah, yes, but she was an only child.”

Queen Medea! That was where Orwin had heard of her.

Koviere chipped-in with his giant’s voice: “They kept young Morghiad here a secret. You see, Medea shouldn’t have survived his arrival, but she did, and she didn’t want kidnappers stealing him to investigate what made the child special. I was sworn-in to keep this secret, as I was hired to watch over the two children. But, as you can see, I failed miserably at the task I was charged with.”

An old sergeant called out from the back, “Do you really believe all this?”

Morghiad nodded. “I know it is for certain. Acher went to the trouble of having the sigil on my shoulder changed, but the original left a shadow, which even the most skilled wielder could not disguise.”

Orwin and several of the men around Artemi looked at her questioningly. She nodded in agreement with Morghiad’s statement.

Chiming with her movement another soldier on the far side of the room spoke, “I want to hear what the Lady Artemi has to say about this.”

She turned to address them, though she was nowhere near tall enough to see the source of the voice. “Both men speak the truth. Beneath the image of the hawk is the outline of a panther. And the two crests were made by different wielders. I do not see how else it could have been engineered.”

Morghiad frowned. “I must add that I will make Acher pay for what he has done, and I plead with all of you not to stand in my way. He must not know that I have discovered his lie. And now that you know my title is false, I must accept that I can no longer lay claim to captaincy of this army. It has been an honour serving with all of you; a captain could not have wished for better men, but I hereby tender my resignation from your command.”

The hall erupted in a tumult of argument and shouting. The men around Orwin swung between angry declarations of war against King Acher, to squabbles over who could be the next captain and desperate laments over their guilt for their part in Gialdin’s fall. That battle had long been a sore subject for the army, and many of the older soldiers had simply refused to speak of it. But now almost twenty years of festering emotion rent itself free of the army’s wound and clattered around the confines of the massive hall. Morghiad surveyed the mess with a pained expression. Orwin felt torn. He cared deeply for both Artemi and Morghiad; they had become the very heart of his army. The wielder stared darkly at the rough floor, clearly hoping no one would notice her there. Was she crying? That was it. She was going to get a hug whether it was proper or not. He slipped an arm across her shoulders and squeezed her at his side. “Do you have any good ideas on how to sort this?” Sometimes that young-ancient mind of hers could be surprisingly astute. She stiffened and shook her head worriedly.

A booming voice ricocheted deafeningly through the hall, “Are you a complete and utter bloody idiot?” The army’s furious arguments crashed into a dead silence. Morghiad remained on the platform, blinking in surprise. Koviere stood opposite him, leaning on a staff for support, and with a fierce look on his square face. No one ever spoke to Morghiad like that, at least not in public. It was just not done to a kahr, no matter which country he hailed from. The stooped giant continued, “You can’t just leave them without any voice or leadership. Honestly, lad, your father would despair of you!”

Orwin dropped his arm from Artemi, in anticipation of a response or perhaps some violence from the former captain.

“I have no right here,” Morghiad said in a low voice.

Koviere boomed again, “Being a leader is not a right, lad. It is earned!”

Orwin thought he heard a harrumph from Artemi’s direction.

The giant turned to face the army. “Has this man not earned his place as your captain?” Many of the men shifted uncomfortably. “Is there anyone better to lead you?”

That caused a moment of introspection amongst the soldiers. Beodrin spoke, “Calidell has not known a finer captain. I believe many more of us would be littering the fields of Gorena if he had not been in charge.”

Those words carried weight when uttered by the most experienced of the lieutenants. Not so long ago he had been one of the leading candidates to replace the old captain.

Rahake jumped in almost immediately, “If we voted to keep you as our captain, would you stay,
Kahr
Morghiad?” His emphasis on the title was far from irreverent. There were some nods and shouts of agreement from the back of the hall.

The uncrowned King of Gialdin folded his arms and nodded solemnly. Traditionally, the captain had always been chosen by the king of Calidell, since he was the general in name. But these were special circumstances.

“Fine then.” Rahake joined the men on the platform. “All those in favour of retaining Kahr Morghiad as captain, move this way.” He gestured to the windowed side of the hall. The entire room appeared to tip as over eight-thousand uniformed bodies stamped to the windows. Artemi stayed close to Orwin, her smile plain across her face.

“And what are your orders for us, Lord-Captain Morghiad?” the dark lieutenant enquired.

He frowned for a moment, and then smiled. It was a small smile, but definitely there. “Rahake, I want you to send half your men to tell those currently guarding the city what has happened here. And for the rest of you, go home. The day of naming a captain is traditionally a day of holiday. So that is what you shall have. And Koviere, if you ever speak to me like that again I’ll have your hair braided like a little girl’s and you can wear a dress for the week.”

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