Page 55 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame (Fated for Hael #1)

Cahra stared at the foreboding black gate and shattered walls of the capital of Hael’stromia, grains of sand whipping her face as a sharp gust of wind swept across the arid plain.

Despite the open air, it felt thick, stale – heavy.

When she swallowed, her throat dry with desert dust, she immediately choked. The air tasted of dead things.

A tidal wave of fear threatened to submerge her, but she clung to hope, to thoughts of Hael, locked somewhere within the inky silhouette of the black tri-cornered pyramid that loomed against dawn’s warming blush.

She’d already seen what Hael had called the palatial temple, the capital’s pyramid, from the elevation of Luminaux’s palace.

Back in Kolyath or Luminaux, Cahra had thought each kingdom’s ‘gate to Hael’, with its Haellium spikes and bars, was sinister enough.

But now, peering at Hael’stromia’s defences – the sky-high metal palings curved around its dark sands, bolstering each gate – and beyond, the bulwarks crumbling and toppling in places, shattered against diehard metal bars… This bleak city was her birthright?

The capital’s grim desolation laid bare, Cahra’s breath hitched, locked inside her chest. As if sensing it the only safe haven.

But nowhere here would be safe soon.

Kolyath and Ozumbre’s armies were fanned like wicked wings between Cahra and the capital, flooding the vast plain before her.

The enemy masses racked back as far as she could squint, and she sighed with irritation.

Hael’s Nether-magicks that gifted enhanced vision had faded, leaving her feeling all but useless.

Hearing the sound of armour shifting uneasily behind her, she wondered how Luminaux’s forces were faring.

She no longer had Hael’s powers, but the eerie absence of sound from the capital’s side of the battlefield made her stomach flip in anticipation.

Meanwhile, Sylvie’s polished detachment was in place as she surveyed the horde by the gate, Luminaux’s Royal Army General signalling behind the golden shield of her buckler to Commander Tyne and her Colonels standing by.

Cahra sat rigidly in her saddle, remembering Thierre’s description of Hael’stromia as he’d sat beside her in the traders’ tavern in Kolyath.

It felt like another time, another life, as she gulped down breath after torrid breath, panic clawing its way from her belly.

Her eyes flashed from the pyramid to Kolyath and Ozumbre’s armies gathered against them.

Against her, just as Thelaema had said.

Cahra swallowed, nausea rising with her dread.

She looked to the Oracle now, Piet and Siarl moving to escort the Seers to the safety of Luminaux’s rearward ranks. This may be our last chance to talk . And while she fought against herself not to ask the question…

‘Thelaema,’ Cahra called, before Raiden’s squad took her away. What have you seen?

The Oracle turned, her face in shadow, before asking, ‘Are you certain you wish to know?’

Cahra nodded. ‘Tell me.’ Will we succeed?

It is possible , Thelaema said into her mind. However, sacrifices must be made. And you must be prepared to accept them. No matter how much they pain you.

Cahra felt her mouth go dry, remembering the Steward’s speeches in Kolyath that spoke of sacrifice, austerity. Sacrifice was never things, but people. Who?

Thelaema smiled faintly.

But it was the first time she hadn’t answered one of Cahra’s questions.

Fear sparked in Cahra’s chest, jolting through her. There must be hope?

There is. The amethyst of Thelaema’s eyes shimmered. The hope is you, child.

Surprise stole Cahra’s breath at the woman’s words.

Then King Royce, seated on his dapple-grey stallion, nudged the steed forward.

‘High Oracle,’ Piet appealed with urgency, muscles tensed.

Thelaema bowed to Cahra, turning away – then whirled back, eyes flaring violet. Grauwynn! The woman’s voice was a roar in Cahra’s head.

Her own eyes widened. ‘He’s here?’

Thelaema nodded sharply, her amethyst eyes keen enough to kill. ‘Cahra… Tread carefully.’ The Oracle’s final words to her, as Piet drew the woman into his kingdom’s throng of troops. Cahra watched her go and turned, jostling on her horse to see where she had spotted the rogue Oracle.

‘Where is the Steward?’ Cahra asked in frustration, her gaze now on Thierre’s family.

The royals were strung like decorations before Kolyath and Ozumbre, but the kingdoms’ own rulers were nowhere to be found.

Royce and Sylvie were too exposed on those front lines, they could be picked off by a long-range archer—

‘Hold, Cahra,’ Raiden told her. ‘King’s orders.’ He was counting under his breath. She watched as his eyes flickered across the formations of enemy troops.

Queen Avenais had stayed in Luminaux; if anything went wrong, at least one royal from Luminaux would live to see the day’s end. Cahra’s horse, the palomino from her journey to Thelaema, snuffled and stamped as if agreeing.

Then Raiden swore, interrupting Cahra’s thoughts.

Cahra’s gaze locked on him, her body instantly on edge. ‘What?’

The Captain exhaled. ‘Their forces tally 20,000 combined.’

She forced her next words with a croak. ‘Luminaux’s?’

Raiden’s face was firm but pale. ‘Less than half.’

She nodded, shoulders slumping. Sylvie had warned them. But she knew her choice if it came down to her as Empress versus someone like Thierre. She’d already made it.

Thierre was the priority.

‘Cahra,’ Raiden began, as Kolyath and Ozumbre’s soldiers shifted, branching from the rear, something – someone – proceeding towards the enemy front lines.

The absent rulers.

Cahra bared her teeth in a silent snarl as she spied Steward Atriposte for one of only a handful of times in her life, the tyrant of Kolyath in battle regalia, seated atop a snow-white mount.

Beside him, twin grey faces gazed at Luminaux’s army with interest. Decimus and Diabolus.

Who was who was anybody’s guess though, garbed as they were in identical fighting leathers.

A tactic to avoid assassination? Cahra frowned, searching.

Where was he?

Raiden had been thinking the same thing. ‘I don’t see Thierre.’

Kolyath and Ozumbre’s rulers halted several soldiers back from the front lines. Contempt flooded Cahra. They didn’t even have the spine to approach Luminaux directly, hiding instead behind their army’s pikes, their mounted infantry, their bows and arrows.

King Royce stilled, his face an inveterate mask, his fortitude rallying his soldiers. Raiden’s face shone with pride as the King’s voice rung out, echoing to bridge the expanse.

‘We are here to exchange, as agreed, Lord Terryl of Luminaux for Cahra of Kolyath.’ The King of Luminaux marked his adversaries with narrowed navy eyes. ‘Where is he?’

A yellow glimmer caught Cahra’s eye through a gap in the Wilds that lay beside them. The sun was finally rising.

Moments passed, then Atriposte’s voice boomed, ‘Ah, yes, of course, the Lord Terryl . As agreed, we shall deliver him to you.’

Cahra had seen the hoarfrost anger surface in King Royce before, but not like this. ‘Here. Now ,’ Thierre’s father commanded in a barely contained snarl.

‘As you wish,’ Atriposte said, unruffled. ‘Simply hand over the girl,’ he crooned. Trotting from behind him, Commander Jarett leaned forward on his horse, searching for her.

She was wrong, there was no safe haven. Panic gripped her as she stared at the Steward, recalling how matter-of-factly he’d told her she would die after she stabbed him. Breathing suddenly felt like an impossible task.

Raiden grabbed her reins. ‘No,’ he told her.

‘I have to,’ she told him, voice shaking. ‘It’s Thierre.’

‘I know that,’ he replied roughly. ‘But there has to be another way. I can’t let you hand yourself over to those monsters.’

‘There is no other way,’ Cahra argued, her words edged with fear. ‘We both know it. And if you slept like I did yesterday – which I didn’t – you’d know it’s this, or he’s dead.’ She looked at Raiden, eyes pleading, before gripping his hand and freeing her reins from it. ‘He’s the priority.’

Raiden stared back at her. ‘Thierre is my priority. But—’ The Captain exhaled deeply. ‘But it doesn’t mean that you don’t matter. You have our people’s support.’

Cahra smiled, and it was genuine. ‘And I’m so thankful, for all of you, really I am.

’ She turned her gaze on Kolyath’s Steward.

‘But I have a deal to uphold. And he and I have unfinished kingdom business.’ She took one breath, then another, glad to still be on the horse, not trusting her quaking legs to carry her.

The more she thought about the current plan, the more fear began to rip through her. Because with a night of riding to occupy her thoughts, well, she’d made her own plan.

One: make the trade, open Hael’s tomb and let him deal with Kolyath and Ozumbre.

Or, if the trade goes awry, two: beg Hael to replenish her powers, and deal with Kolyath and Ozumbre herself. Both options were risky, and she wouldn’t know which she’d be looking at until the trade was done.

But what if Thelaema’s right, what if I die? What if I don’t make it to Hael in time, and Luminaux’s army, all of these people, are killed, because of me—

Damn it! Why did Thelaema always have to be right? Because if something happened, and Cahra needed to fight, Hael’s powers were gone. And Atriposte was waiting.

She could see the determination in the faces of Sylvie and Tyne’s soldiers. They were ready to die for their kingdom, for their Prince. But would their valour be enough?

Her eyes locked on Hael’stromia’s gate once more. The price of failure was too high. She needed insurance. And she knew that Hael could give it to her.

Sliding a trembling hand from the reins, she brushed against the bump of Lumsden’s little gold dagger as she slipped her hand into her trouser pocket, gently closing her eyes. Cahra summoned every ounce of her own bravery, willing her breathing to slow.

Please, please work. Then her fingers brushed the Key and she braced herself against the impending void, ready to confront the darkness as it rushed her.

But this time, Cahra didn’t fall.