Page 21 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame (Fated for Hael #1)

The Scion. Hael could scent her in the darkness: the sweet musk of humans, the tart crispness of something like apple mead, and her essence – rich and treacly with a hint of spice, like the wildflower agrimony.

Oh, the irony of the blossom and its tall yellow petals.

In his time, agrimony had been a medicinal herb for the eyes.

His fires rippled in response, the flames in his sockets simmering as he waited for her.

Hael remained cowled, knowing the sight of his gaunt face would terrify, more so than the fires that served as his first and second sight.

Fortuitously, his tattered robes bared little flesh, barring his ashen, corpse-like hands.

He let the cuffs of his sleeves fall, shrouding them.

Regardless, he had succeeded. He had called to her, and she had come.

He watched as she slept, rousing to roll from her back to her side on the dark slate.

The tiles were cut to triangles that swept from the bone rubble girding him and the Scion, to the moat edging the room and up to its metal doors; his metal, Haellium, upon which the carved inscriptions had been spelled to contain him.

Feeling for the ground, the Scion finally awakened and sat up, staring at him.

Hael had learned from their bygone encounters that despite her natural defiance, the inborn battle instincts and raised fists, she feared him. And so he stood, a tangible presence that she could see, hear and calmly converse with. For they would speak.

‘ Please accept my apology. I did not wish to affright you when last we met ,’ Hael appealed, attempting to explain himself. ‘ I predicted peril. ’ His eyes narrowed, perceiving the stiffness in one of her legs. ‘ Was I correct? ’

She continued to stare with two-toned eyes, brown and green, reminding him of trees.

Not the trees of his city, their ebony bark and fronds and buds.

The trees of the greenwoods, the realm’s ‘Wylds’.

Of its roots and leaves, and browns and greens.

Of life, the natural order. The one that he had supplanted as the weaponised Reliquus.

Even trees met their earthly ends.

‘Yes,’ she said finally, as if weighing his words. She looked up at him, a stretch as Hael towered above mere mortals. Or he had, centuries ago.

Hael pondered her upon the cold ground, then, as it had seemed to bother her before.

He searched her with his occult eyes for an injury so ruinous that it could defeat her senses.

But his flames only licked an aura of pain, acute pain, half-way up her leg.

The tendon below her right kneecap; it was damaged.

‘ You require healing. ’ He knelt before her, faster than her human eyes could track, and she jumped.

Centuries to prepare for the next Scion and Hael was fumbling before her.

He felt foolish. Yet this was so different to Scions past. They had been initiated and knew what to expect when they were called upon by the Oracles.

But her, she knew nothing of him, of Hael’stromia, and certainly nothing of the old ones, the old rites.

She knew nothing, and he was as a monster to her.

Slowing, Hael persisted, ensuring his movements were drawn out, non-threatening. ‘ Your knee. You have aggravated an old injury, that I sense. I can heal it, if you wish. ’ Imbuing his features with what little softness he possessed, he raised his flickering gaze.

For the first time, her shoulders slackened somewhat. ‘How? How did you know I’d be in peril?’

He could almost smile. ‘ It is the nature of my gifts, to know when you are in danger. Your enemies will continue to strike. ’

‘And why is that?’ She looked at him, hazel eyes fierce and full of light.

‘ You are the Scion, ’ Hael said simply.

‘Seers, not this again,’ she snorted, rolling her bright eyes. She was spirited, this one. ‘What does that mean? ’

‘ You are the omen-bringer .’ A second fit of pique looked ready to erupt, if her features were any indication. How could he calm her? What did this Scion not yet know? ‘ You are why I have awakened, ’ he decided upon. ‘ I call upon you now so as to serve. ’

Like the warrior he was, his statement had struck true. She whispered, ‘What?’

‘ There will be time for us to speak with each new vision. Fear not, Scion. You are learning to pass between the veil and void. ’ Perhaps it was too much to speak of such things, for she looked at him as though she might cast her reason to the wind.

He digressed, asking, ‘ Would you have me heal your leg? ’ Although he spoke calmly, quietly, he knew his voice and the way the air vibrated when he spoke with his Netherworldly cords, the infernal tones that made each word sound like a god’s. Or daemon’s.

Curiosity illuminated her face, though her eyes were distrustful as she asked him, ‘What would I owe you in return?’ A shrewd question.

‘ Nought. I am strong enough to heal you. ’ Hael paused. ‘ A second time, however, would entail assistance. ’ Four hundred years of his affliction. But he could do this, for her.

Of course, she knew nothing of his powers.

The skeletons were amassed in piles from corner to corner.

Prisoners of the realm, consigned to the safest place in the capital: the palatial temple where the weapon himself dwelled.

A boon when the city’s defences had activated and his bone-crunching Nether-hounds were confined inside.

The prisoners had met their ends during the first months of captivity.

The hounds he had summoned, however, had only fallen as Hael’s dark magicks had weakened.

He banished his thoughts as the Scion nodded, toiling to straighten her damaged leg. Hael’s eyes drifted to her bare feet. No sigil, yet.

To the matter at hand. With time and strength, he could heal her from afar.

But now, weakened, her injury had to be within reach.

And so he placed his fingertip atop her kneecap, a tear in the fabric of her trousers permitting him to see the bruised, distended joint.

Whether she flinched from the pain of his touch, or from the touch at all, he was uncertain.

But when his pale skin radiated with what he hoped would form a comfortable cold against the swelling, he gently pressed his thumb, then his third, fourth and fifth fingers to her knee.

The fire of Hael’s being, the Nether that had rebirthed him, ebbed, the ice of death rising in its place, infused with the source of his powers: destruction and creation.

The Scion watched as her inflammation faded away, as though it had never been.

She gazed up at him, the green of her eyes luminous this time, as she drew her knee to her chest, then chanced to stand.

‘How did you do that?’ she breathed, ‘Who are you? What are you?’

He smiled at last. ‘ Reliquus of the Order of Descry, sempiternal of this realm and Vassal Champion to the Scion. To you. ’ Still kneeling at her feet, Hael bowed to press his head upon the floor’s dark tiles, before raising his gaze to hers.

‘ It is my honour to serve you, Scion. I am Hael. ’