Empire of Ashes

Chapter XXV - Playing with Fire

It took Fendur and Anlai exactly five minutes to get ready for battle. With Melia buckling her husband's armour and Anlai helping the Iyrak in turn, they donned vambraces, greaves, pauldrons and helmets at breakneck speed. I didn't stay to watch — I had my own job to do. There was a flint and steel amongst my things in the pavilion which might decide the battle before it had even begun.

Temris was already there, tightening the straps on his own light armour. He looked up and smiled when he saw me. "The Anglians are half an hour away. They stole a night's march on us, the bastards. Oh, and I've got something for you."

He handed over a clinking bundle. When I pulled back the rough fabric, I began grinning like a crazy person. He had given me a vest of fine, dark chainmail, a leather overplate and a set of vambraces for my forearms. At his feet rested the yew bow, a full quiver and to my delight, a sword belt complete with weapon.

I hugged him then, jumping into his arms and muttering a grudging, "Thank you."

Armour was expensive, and I had never expected to own a set. Especially a custom-made set, as this must have been to fit me.

Temris was laughing as he set me on my feet again. "Don't thank me now. Wait until it saves your life."

He helped me put it on, fortunately. I wouldn't have had the faintest clue how to do it myself. It was lighter than I expected, although there was an infernal clanking when I moved which was certain to drive me crazy.

"So what's the plan?"

Temris readjusted my belt so that the hilt of the sword was within easy reach. His own blade lay on the table, already drawn and sharp enough to cut through flesh and sinew like butter. He said, "Try not to die."

"No, seriously."

"Seriously," he confirmed. "Wait for my signal to light the fire. After that, stay out of the way. You can stand with the archers if you want. Or return here to wait with Melia and Glyn."

I bit my lip and stared at him, trying to commit the moment to memory. He was unhelmed, as northern custom demanded. I took in the tousled golden hair and blue eyes, the faint gleam of sweat on his forehead from wearing so many layers, and the dimple in the corner of his mouth when he smiled. There was a chance I might never see him again. Anything could happen in the heat of battle, no matter how deadly you were. One unlucky arrow or a single missed parry, and he would bleed out in the Pass.

"Do me a favour," I said quietly.

He nodded. "Anything."

"Stay alive."

The beginnings of a grin crept across his lips. "Getting attached, are we?"

"I am not— You know what? I've changed my mind," I snarled. "I hope they rip your bloody head off and feed it to the dogs."

His hand hadn't left the belt. Instead, it lingered on my waist. He pulled me closer, and I nestled in the warmth of his body as he leant down to whisper. "That's my girl."

And then he was gone, leaving the tent with a single backwards glance. I remained there for a good few seconds, staring after him with fear coiling in my chest, before following him into the dusk. All around us, the army stirred. Troops hurried along worn paths, heading towards the entrance to the Pass.

Rory stood waiting with Nightmare. The stallion himself was protected by a few pieces of silver plate. One covered his face, another his neck and shoulders. The effect was quite terrifying. With Temris on his back, no one would be keen to pick a fight. His men saw it, too. Mounted and foot soldiers alike rallied around him, forming a mob which made it difficult to get close. Fendur and Colloe cleared the way as best they could from their own horses.