Page 95 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

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?’

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