Kara didn’t let Sebastian go that night. They had two days, and she didn’t intend to waste a single moment. In two days’ time, they would go into battle... together.
Through blood, we stand.
Tobias had been right: the journey through the last parts of Sorrel towards the Fatàn–Thorne border had been slow. They’d spent most of the two days trying to remain undetected. Thorne soldiers were everywhere. They hadn’t dared ride the whole way. The valmares were too loud on some of the trails, too easy to spot at a distance. They’d had to dart off the trail and hide in the brush or the trees more than once whilst patrols passed, holding as still as statues as glints of armour and steel blades marched past them, unknowing how close they were to their quarry. Sebastian was a shadow beside her. Calm. Deliberate. When panic threatened to overwhelm her and her breathing came too fast or too loudly, he was there to steady her. Never letting go of her hand.
He drilled her mercilessly the whole journey, until she could recite the plan off by heart. She knew exactly which wall he’d scale to open the old iron gate, the specific path they’d take to the Shard, their exact escape route. South. Together. She wouldn’t leave him, and had made that abundantly clear when he’d told her to if things went wrong. He taught her fieldcraft as they went: when she shifted too far into the open, he guided her into cover with a gentle hand. They were hidden behind mossed rocks when he pointed to faint grooves in the mud.
“Boot tracks,” he’d told her. “Three-man patrol came through recently. They’ll likely circle back.”
He became different in moments like these – not the man who teased her by the fire, but the soldier Tobias had raised, a commander, a tactician.
She loved every side of him.
Smart. Protective. And very capable.
She didn’t tell him that though. He’d get all cocky about it.
He grabbed her arm suddenly. “Only step there if you want the whole forest to hear.”
She looked down. She’d been about to step on a patch of brittle twigs.
“And here I thought you were trying to impress me,” he smirked.
Her mouth fell open, indignant, and his smirk faded. “Don’t worry. You’re improving.”
He’s still completely infuriating.
“Remind me to thank my excellent teacher.”
It was on the second afternoon that the trees thinned, signalling their arrival at the southern side of the Fire Temple. The sky had taken on a strange, burnt hue – despite nightfall being hours away. Smoke drifted on the horizon, carried eastward from Fatàn’s volcanic range, blurring the skyline. The scent of it clung to Kara’s nose and throat, and bent over, hands braced on her knees, nauseated.
Don’t throw up.
Sebastian squeezed her hand. “Volcanic ash – not fire.”
Easy for him to say.
All Kara could think of was the pyre. The smoke. The heat. Death closing in on her. She focused on taking deep, even breaths. The crunch of gravel beneath her boots, the feel of his hand in hers. She wouldn’t let this break her.
Finally, the nausea passed.
The Fire Temple was as beautiful as it was deadly: a truly awe-inspiring sight. It stood with the village of Ashguard in its shadow, at the meeting place of the two regions: Fatàn’s dark hills and lava to the west, Thorne’s stark stone cliffs to the east. It was larger than a castle. Grand beyond belief. Its outer walls were carved out of jagged obsidian rock, with turrets, ramparts, high gates, and flaming torches.
Kara’s stomach lurched. Calling it a temple was laughable. It was a Godsdamned fortress. She eyed the Thorne soldiers pacing, armed with blades and Sorrel hunters on the ramparts with bows and spears.
And this is the lightly guarded section?
Sebastian crouched low, pulling her down beside him behind a heap of rock. They peered over – their position on the hill gave them a clear vantage over the southern approach, the scant trees just enough cover. They’d hitched the valmares half a mile away, where the vegetation was thicker. The ground in front of them now sloped into a narrow valley, a natural trench, deep enough that the temple ramparts rose above it like a cliff edge. The Sorrel archers would be watching the ridges beyond – not the depression directly below the walls. That’s what the platoon of Thorne soldiers was there for.
“Rotations are every thirty minutes,” he said after a while, watching the pattern unfold below. “Pairs on the perimeter, as Father said, and larger groups within the valley.”
Kara followed his gaze, marking their paths. The thought of actually getting through this now seemed mildly ridiculous.
Sebastian glanced at her. “If we stand here,” he said, indicating a rocky crest with a tilt of his chin, “your magic would pour straight intothe valley. Spread fast, low to the ground. Cover everything between us and the temple walls.”
Kara stared at the sheer number of men guarding their route. She knotted her hands together, doubt filling her. “What if it doesn’t hold them?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “It held me.”
