Chapter 7 – The Broker's Knife
The smell of scorched flesh clung to the air long after the zealots fled. The Wastes were quiet again, too quiet, the kind of silence that made Kael's hackles rise. He sat Nyra down against the broken arch, tearing strips from what was left of his cloak to bind the bleeding along her ribs.
She didn't flinch, but her jaw locked tight. Her eyes, still faintly rimmed with stormlight, stared past him.
"Don't look so grim," Kael muttered, tugging the cloth tight. "You won."
Nyra's laugh was bitter, dry. "I won nothing. They'll be back. The Temple never forgets. And next time…" She trailed off, wincing as he tied the knot. "Next time, I might not walk away."
Kael leaned back on his heels, wiping blood from his hands. "Then we make sure there isn't a next time."
Before she could answer, bootsteps crunched in the dust. Several sets, steady, deliberate. Kael's hand went to his sword.
"Easy there, sellsword," came a familiar drawl.
Serik's men.
Half a dozen of them emerged from behind the rocks — leather-clad, blades sheathed but hands close to hilts. At their head was Veyr, Serik's favorite hound, a scarred brute with dead eyes and a smile that didn't touch them.
Kael spat into the dirt. "You've got a knack for showing up late."
Veyr ignored him. His gaze swept over the battlefield, the corpses of zealots still smoking in the sun. Then it settled on Nyra, slumped against the stone, pale but unbroken.
"Well," Veyr said slowly, "the whispers were true. The Storm witch lives."
Nyra's eyes narrowed. "Say that again."
Veyr chuckled, low and humorless. "Careful, priestess. You've burned through half your blood already. Another spark and you'll collapse."
Kael stood, sword loose in his hand. "She doesn't answer to you."
"Neither do you," Veyr said, all mockery gone now. "You answer to Serik."
The other men spread out, casual but deliberate, boxing them in. Kael's grip tightened. He could take two, maybe three before they cut him down. Nyra was in no state to fight.
Veyr stepped closer, his shadow falling over Nyra. "Serik wanted proof you were still breathing. Looks like I've got it. He'll be pleased."
"Pleased enough to take his coin and choke on it, maybe," Kael muttered.
Veyr smirked. "Careful. Broker's got long ears. And sharper knives than yours."
For a moment, the air was taut, a string stretched to breaking. Kael wanted nothing more than to ram his blade through Veyr's smirk. But Nyra's hand brushed his wrist — faint, almost imperceptible.
Not now.
Veyr must have seen it too. He gave a mocking bow. "Rest up. You'll need it. The Broker doesn't tolerate delays, and you've already lost time with your little holy reunion."
He turned, signaling his men. They melted back into the rocks like carrion crows dispersing, their laughter echoing on the wind.
Kael sheathed his sword with a curse. "I hate that bastard."
Nyra's eyes lingered on where Veyr had stood. "He's not wrong. Serik won't wait forever. And men like that…" Her voice hardened. "They don't just carry messages. They measure graves."
Kael crouched beside her, meeting her gaze. "Then we don't give them the chance."
For the first time since the fight, Nyra actually looked at him. Really looked. The banter was gone, the sarcasm stripped away. All that remained was exhaustion, fear, and a flicker of something else.
"You should walk away, Kael," she said quietly. "Take your blade, your coin, and go. Before this drags you down with me."
Kael snorted. "And miss the chance to piss off zealots, brokers, and gods in one season? Not a chance."
Her lips twitched, the ghost of a smile. "You're an idiot."
"True." He leaned back, glancing at the horizon. "But I'm your idiot for now."
They sat in silence after that, the wind sighing over the wastes, the distant thunder still muttering above the mountains.
Kael knew Serik's leash was tightening. He knew the Temple would be back, stronger and hungrier. And he knew the Hollow One's whisper wasn't done with him.
But with Nyra's stormlight still flickering faintly beside him, he found himself almost — almost — ready to believe they could outrun it all.