Page 14 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

‘Respectfully, I need to ensure your safety.’ The hard look to Raiden’s face returned.

Cahra watched as the two men stared at each other. Terryl’s expression was resolute, and he wasn’t backing down.Wow, so he can act like a noble. She almost laughed out loud.

Raiden let out a resigned sigh, his chin lowering in defeat. ‘Do you think you can make it to the carriage?’

‘We got this far,’ Cahra said, folding her arms.

Raiden turned, as if remembering she was there. ‘Is that the sword?’ She stilled, then handed it to him. Raiden lifted it gingerly, inspecting the pommel. He looked first at Cahra, then at Terryl. ‘You’d better hurry,’ Raiden said; to her or Terryl, she wasn’t entirely sure. ‘You can’t be seen with this.’ But as Terryl turned to leave, a skulking figure prowled in from the doorway to their left.

Cahra threw her fists up before Raiden’s sword was half out of its sheath. But the man just exhaled and nodded to the figure. ‘Queran! Thank the Seers, you’re here.’

‘Did you get my arrow? They’re minutes behind me,’ the tall man told them from the shadowed cowl of his cloak.

‘Go,’ Raiden said to Cahra and Terryl. ‘We’ll follow.’ He flicked his head to Queran. ‘You’re up top. Move fast.’

Queran nodded. ‘Understood.’

Terryl exited the mansion into his immaculate rear garden, overflowing with topiaries and white snowdrops that wafted nectar. Already planning their next move, Cahra noted the service lane for the other wealthy houses on Terryl’s street at the far end of the large garden, a better escape route than going out the front door.

He paused at the arched gate to the lane. ‘My caravan has been relocated, now that Commander Jarett’s Kingdom Guards are searching for us, to mere streets from the stables.’

Cahra didn’t ask how Terryl or his people knew to do that; she was too busy trying to visualise the path to get there and the streets they’d be forced to tread by foot to even make it near the stables. She watched as the cloaked man, Queran, eased himself from the mansion’s top-floor window and swung, flipping spryly onto the grey tiles of the building’s roof. A moment later, a sleek bow was taut within his grasp.

Private guards, an acrobatic archer… Terryl was definitely full of surprises.

Clearing her throat, Cahra asked, ‘We need to get back on the main street, don’t we?’

‘It is the only way,’ Terryl confirmed. She glanced to the left, where the abandoned temple to Kolyath’s ancient Seers bordered the nobles’ neighbourhood. Meanwhile, the Steward’s grounds stretched right, fortified by imposing stone walls that marched to the ever-watchful castle towering on its high hill. Cahra repressed a shiver, the tension in her body returning as she thought about the dungeons awaiting her in its depths.

And started to remember.

Cahra pressed her scrawny body, huddled and shivering, into the rear corner of the dungeon cell. She could feel the bricks through the rips in her shirt and the chill of snowflakes whispering from a far-off grate, dusting her hair as they seeped into her skin and little bones. She shifted the weight of her crouch from one foot to the other, trying to fight the bitter cold. Behind her, the wall felt like the safest spot. No one could cut her from behind now. That scar, like so many from living in the kingdom of Kolyath, had taught her so.

Hugging her scraped knees, she squinted in the darkness. All she could see was torchlight flickering from the steep, snaking steps onto a locked gate at the dungeon entrance. At least she’d know if anyone was coming. But what would she do when they did? She traced her hand along the wall, picking for loose mortar. If she could just break off a stony shiv, maybe she’d be the one doing the cutting.

‘The goods wagon attached to the carriage is your hiding place,’ Terryl was saying.

She nodded absently.

It had been so long…

She froze, tilting her head towards a creak, followed by a louder bang, then hushed footfalls on slick stone. The kind men made when they thought they were being quiet.

The steps continued downwards. She watched as a silhouette reached through the barred gate like a ghost, then flinched as the figure emerged from the shadows, snapping a key into the lock and turning it with a screech. The dungeon gate swung open.

Cahra bit her lip, digging her fingernails into the wall, faster now.

‘We will make it to Kolyath’s gatehouse, Cahra,’ Terryl told her softly.

So long, but she’d never forgotten…

The first thing Cahra saw were shoes. Shining in the gloom, like someone had polished them until their hands bled, her nostrils filling with the sooty beeswax used to blacken boots. She peered at the pressed trousers, looking for the familiar red stripe of the Kingdom Guards. But the flash of blood-red she spied in the dim light wasn’t a uniform. It was a velvet cloak.

Her hand stilled against the bricks.

A large figure halted outside her cell. ‘Come forward,’ he ordered.

She couldn’t see the man’s face, but she could tell from the bite in his command that he was a high-born used to getting his own way. His wasn’t the grunt of the stupid guards that had arrested her for stealing. This was someone important.

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