Page 39 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

‘Damn it!’ She heard Raiden swear as she leapt out, the coach still in motion. Cahra dropped and rolled onto a patch of grass, Queran abandoning his horse to leap for the door she’d just vacated, doing one of his fancy flips onto the coach roof, bow in hand. The other coach door slammed, a pair of boots hitting the dirt with full force.

‘Squad one!’ Raiden bellowed from the ground. ‘Stay with your lord! Squad two, you’re with me!’ He nodded to Queran atop the coach as it rounded a tight corner. Then Raiden spotted Cahra. ‘What in Hael are you doing?’ he hissed at her, eyes flashing. ‘Training’s not over yet. You’re not ready for this.’

‘Exactly!’ she shot back. ‘The perfect opportunity to hone my skills.’ Anything to get him off his arse to help the woman in trouble.

‘If anything happens to my lord…’ he growled, marching to Queran’s abandoned steed.

‘He’ll be fine. If you’d just—’

Raiden swung onto the horse, extending an arm towards her as he grabbed the reins. His famous hard look returned, but it was different this time, for there was actual urgency.

‘Cahra, there’s no time to argue.’ Frowning at his words, Cahra took his hand as he hauled her up behind him on the saddle. ‘Hold fast,’ he said as they leapt into a gallop.

Arriving by a shallow stream, Cahra and Raiden hit the ground running. Eight of his people were already fighting, but Raiden still charged in, not one to stand around and watch.

Cahra followed him, treading lightly and wondering how to help. Given her love of hammers, Raiden had handed Cahra’s training to Piet and his great-hammer, who had suggested starting with longer-handled weapons like staves.

Somehow she didn’t think a stick would help her in this fight.

One of the Kolyath patrolmen fled, Cahra stepping from behind a tree to trip the man. He recovered, whirling to throw a wayward punch. She dodged it and grabbed the nape of his neck to slam the soldier into the tree’s trunk. Cahra grinned, but her elation was short-lived as somebody grabbed her from behind, pinning an arm around her throat. Struggling to breathe, she grappled with her assailant, who then flung them into the same tree. It wasn’t the worst hit she’d ever taken, but too-familiar white stars exploded across her vision. At least she now had air. Gulping down a hot breath, Cahra hurled her fist back and into the man’s groin, spinning and flinging her elbow to connect with what she knew would be a skull. Her next punch landed with the entirety of her smith’s bodyweight behind it, ending in a satisfying thud.The soldier crumpled.

Looking up to scan the battle, she saw they’d won. Raiden sought her out, their eyes meeting after he surveyed the men unconscious on the ground around her.

He asked, ‘Are you injured?’

‘Fine,’ she said, dabbing her bloodied forehead with the back of her hand. ‘You know head wounds. Where’s the Wildswoman?’

He nodded to a small hill near the water. ‘Recovering.’

She looked at Raiden then, knowing how hard it must have been for him to relinquish his post by Terryl’s side. ‘You did the right thing,’ she told him. ‘Coming to her rescue.’

Cahra found the Wildswoman sitting by the babbling stream. The woman’s hair was lush and dark like treacle, cascading down her back and shimmering in the morning sun. When she turned, her skin had a dusky warmth to it and she stared with eyes of peridot, a gem the colour of freshly cut grass, ringed in amethyst. Pretty, Cahra thought.

And the woman was young, older than Cahra but nowhere near the matronly image she’d conjured in her mind at hearing ‘Wildswoman’. She scolded herself for judging anyone based on just a word. She hated these stupid titles, labels, all of it.

Why couldn’t everyone be the same? Then maybe she and Terryl…

Cahra’s heart fluttered at the thought, but she quickly smothered it. She forced a smile and knelt by the Wildswoman, asking, ‘Are you okay?’ She saw the woman was still staring into the distance. Maybe she was in shock. Cahra looked for injuries, noting the woman’s faded black robes. They were old, but they looked to be made of good cloth.

The woman shuddered then, as if only just hearing Cahra speak. ‘Yes… yes, I am.’ She peered into Cahra’s eyes, focusing this time. ‘You… saved me.’ She held her forehead, as if it pained her, then stared at Cahra. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Cahra,’ she said. Those faded robes, and the patrol they’d just fought… Where was this woman from? What was she doing here?

‘I am Wyldaern,’ the woman replied, still looking a little ill.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Cahra said, sweeping her with keener eyes this time. That’s when she saw it.

The Sigil of the Seers.

Maybe the neck of the woman’s robe had fallen open as she sat, or in the fight, or—

It didn’t matter. Now it was Cahra’s turn to stare. The Seers’ symbol gazed at her from an amulet around Wyldaern’s neck.

‘The sigil,’ Cahra whispered aloud, sitting heavily.

If she thought Wyldaern was staring at her before…

‘I’ve seen it,’ she said weakly. ‘I fled the kingdom of Kolyath because of it.’ Memories of her and Terryl’s fraught escape came flooding back.

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