Page 105 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

‘I may still command the Oracle, if that, perchance, is what you are contemplating.’ Atriposte flicked his wrist at her, as if dismissing such a tedious exchange. ‘Do remember your fellow low-borns, will you not?’ The Steward turned, shifting under his Kolyath battle regalia.

Incensed didn’t begin to cover how Cahra felt, but she managed to control the impulse to strangle him yet again. Instead, she eyed Atriposte’s regal armour.

‘Ill-fitting, is it?’ Then, smirking, she led them in the direction of Hael’s tomb, her eyes lighting the dark.

As cautiously as she moved, Cahra couldn’t stop the motes of dust that stirred from the triangular tiles of the similarly arched passages. Whoever had constructed this building had gone to great lengths to preserve its style. Every feature, every flourish, was an incorporation of the shapes she’d used the night she’d designed the pommel insert of Thierre’s longsword: triangles, circles and eyes – eyes everywhere.

Not to mention her crest, the near-rectangle signifying ‘house’, and black crown with a red phoenix, both of which now graced the sole of her right foot, and adorned each room, etched into the pillars and reliefs.

Cahra kept moving, every tread of her boots leading her down, down into the underbelly of the pyramid, each step bringing her closer to Hael. She counted the minutes until she could release him from his tomb. Their next step would be ridding Kolyath of its Steward and Commanders, even Ozumbre’s King, if necessary. Then Grauwynn…

‘Now where?’ Jarett’s voice rankled her, and she scowled at the man.

They’d arrived at a T-shaped split, each passage looking equally daunting despite the flicker of torches around her.

If she could just split Jarett’s Kingdom Guards, then—

Pressure amassed in Cahra’s temples and she fought to stay upright at the vision Grauwynn was sending her: Ellian, vulnerable, an axe poised above the boy’s hand.

Indulge me. What good is an apprentice without fingers?

No.Cahra clamped her own hands over her mouth, stifling a sob.

Be mindful of your next course of action, blacksmith.Grauwynn’s voice paused, letting the words sink in.This is your final warning.

Trembling, Cahra took a step to the left, her words echoing over and over in her mind, as she wrestled her panic to stay calm.Hael isn’t far now.

Cahra’s limbs were growing heavy, Hael’s gifts waning with each step. After no food or water, the hours without rest began to eat away at her strength. She’d missed her chance, she thought, and now there was no way she’d stop Atriposte or Jarett alone. She needed Hael.

Thankfully, it looked as though she’d found him.

Descending through the pyramid, down ramp upon ramp, they finally neared the conclusion of a twisting passage. And at its end…

Twin hulking doors, forged from the same eerie metal of the gates, towered before her, vanishing into the blackness above. Cahra raised her head, sweat beading along her hairline after the gruelling trek, her face and leathers streaked with the dust of centuries past.

She touched one of the door’s handles, the coiled ring icy against her skin, and stilled. Slowly, Cahra brought an ear, then an eye, to where the doors met, not knowing what she’d find but feebly hoping all the same. She listened. Waited. And felt – a breeze.

There’s a crack between the doors, like in my visions of Hael’s tomb.

Stomach leaping to her chest, she hurriedly pulled back, an eye on that slender crack. A sliver of red flickered in the minuscule gap.

Cahra cried out, throwing both hands against the enormous doors, the flush of relief overwhelming her, as she realised finally –finally– she had made it. She was here, this was Hael’s tomb. And she was moments away from freeing him. Her plan had worked!

Joy swelled inside her and she turned, unable to hide the elation on her face.

A sudden sharpness stole Cahra’s breath, a blade piercing her flesh without warning. She blinked and staggered back in surprise, a searing-hot blaze of pain contorting her face as Atriposte pulled his rapier free. The world tilted on its axis, her vision blurring as her wound threatened to topple her.

‘You idiot.’ Cahra panted, gripping her abdomen with both hands, as if that would stymie the blood pouring from her stomach; the Steward had managed to stab her below the mail of her plate vest. ‘I must walk the path to enter the Netheralive.’ She croaked the words through gritted teeth and stumbled back against the doors to Hael’s tomb.

The Steward pressed the Key into her bloody hand and rammed it into the lock-like seal nestled in the metalwork of the doors. The mechanics of gears began whirring.

‘Oh, I am keenly aware,’ Atriposte replied. ‘Carry on, then. I shall wait right here.’ He glanced at his pocket watch. ‘You may wish to hurry along, though. With that injury – well, you shall not have very long.’ The Steward squared his shoulders, patiently waiting to claim the weapon himself.

Could it happen? If Cahra died, could another ruler control Hael?

Groaning, she sunk to the tiles, straining to unbuckle her belt so she could strap it around her mid-section. The doors were unsealing slowly, too slowly, and she didn’t know if Hael could do anything for her now, but at least he would finally be free.

There was only one thing left to do.

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