Page 29 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

Cahra smirked. She supposed even the likes of Raiden had to answer nature’s call. Shaking her empty cup, she looked for Langera to ask about more water.

CHAPTER 13

Returning from the stream, Cahra’s conversation with Terryl lingered in her mind. She found herself replaying his words, his smile, the intensity of his blue goldstone eyes; like solitaires, so dazzling. And he supported her, making her feel warm despite the briskness of the Wilds. She did worry about Raiden though. Terryl’s Captain didn’t seem to like her.

She sighed and pressed on, then froze. Something echoed from behind, in the trees to her left. She hesitated, doubting her ears, but then it came again: the unmistakable clash of metal on metal. Of an armed skirmish.

Raiden.

Without a second thought, Cahra took off in his direction.

Her senses, honed from years of living with fear at one shoulder, death at the other, pinpointed the fight easily. She crouched and stole towards it, boots muted on the springy moss, looking from behind a shrub to see Raiden battling three soldiers. Despite years of smithing, Cahra had seen few sword fights in her life. But she understood the truth of Terryl’s words, the courage and control in Raiden’s powerful strikes. He was skilled, twisting and slashing to deliver cuts with speed. But the Captain still fought three foes, each unwilling to go quietly. Cahra shifted her weight, an unseen twig cracking underfoot – then, cursing, she grabbed the nearest bough and swung to climb into the tree.

One of the soldiers Raiden was battling turned, but before the man could investigate, Raiden took advantage, forcing his attention. Peering down at them, Cahra released a breath, then realised an archer was concealed in the undergrowth, a crossbow trained on Raiden. She heard a grunt, glimpsing the Captain. He was hurt. She watched in horror as he faltered, pulling a slip of a knife from his side and hurling it, hitting his opponent in the throat with a dull thack. The dark ripple of red followed.

But the move cost Raiden. The crossbow now had a straight shot. As he fought to dispose of the two soldiers still standing, the man below Cahra stilled for his attempt. Then she was running, sprinting the last few steps to the branch’s narrow end – and jumped, plummeting from the lofty tree, her weight the brawn of a blacksmith.

Right onto the soldier with the crossbow.

The force of the impact reverberated through Cahra’s legs and she gritted her teeth, hunching like a beast as she bit down on the shooting pain that rocked her knees and ankles. Feeling movement, she sprung from the man’s back, gripped a fallen branch, then whirled and swung with all her might. The wood dropped him like a stone.

Raiden stared, recovering quickly to dispatch first one then the other combatant, a spray of blood signifying the final felling. He approached her.

‘I take it they’re…’ Cahra trailed off.

He gave a curt nod, studying the man unconscious at her feet. ‘That was unexpected.’ Raiden stared at her.

‘I’ll say,’ she told him. ‘Who are they? Why did they attack you?’ Cahra gave him a look. ‘Or did you attack them?’

‘Of course not.’ He scowled, then paused. ‘Look at their insignias.’

Cahra gazed at the only kingdom crest she knew. ‘They’re Kolyath,’ she whispered. Her eyes flew to Raiden. ‘Surely—’

‘We took a risk, stopping this early. One we won’t be taking again.’ His eyes flashed to their lone captive. ‘But we may extract some answers yet.’ Raiden’s jaw tightened as he yanked the dagger he’d thrown from his victim’s neck, sliding a glance to Cahra. ‘Please. Get the lord to his guards,’ he said quietly.

‘I will,’ she promised, glancing down at the unconscious soldier as she turned to go.

Raiden’s iron eyes narrowed. ‘I won’t be long.’

A shiver slithered down her spine at the menace in his voice.

Leaving the dead behind, Cahra staggered as fast as she could back to the little glade. Hearing Terryl’s people, she sighed with relief as she broke through the low-lying shrubs and into the open. Terryl looked up from his plate and, seeing her – dishevelled and limping – dropped his crockery and hastened to cover the distance, Siarl and Piet at his side, his people falling into formation. Queran and a second archer broke from them, darting towards her.

‘Raiden,’ she called, puffing and pointing, Queran nodding as he ran.

‘What happened? You’re hurt,’ Terryl said, brow creased as he signalled for aid.

Cahra shook her head. ‘It’s nothing,’ she told him. ‘But Raiden was attacked. He’s dealing with the survivor.’ Siarl flicked a glance to Piet before peeling away from him, unsheathing one of her long daggers. She trailed Queran into the woods.

Piet moved closer to Terryl. ‘We must leave,’ Piet said, watching the clearing’s edges. Everyone was primed for threats now.

‘Not until Raiden returns,’ Terryl instructed. The look on the lord’s face was enough to silence whatever argument was brewing.

Cahra stepped towards him, forcing her breaths to slow. ‘Piet is right. We need to go.’ As Terryl turned on her, she said, ‘There was a soldier with a crossbow, from Kolyath.’

At that, Piet looked ready to knock Terryl on the head and toss him over one shoulder, anything to get him back to the coach.

‘Very well,’ Terryl said, face darkening.

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