Daughter of the Flames by Zoe Marriott

for the entrance to the House behind me – sword in hand. I sucked in a deep breath and quickly bent to pick up the rake, grasping the thick wood handle firmly. The Sedorne emitted a feral war cry as he lunged at me.
    I ducked under his blade and smashed the rake into his face as hard as I could, the strength of my swing limited by lack of space. He staggered and shook his head as I skipped backwards, then he recovered and went for me again. This time I came at him from my right, staying out of range of his sword arm, and swung the wooden shaft sideways, aiming for his temple. It hit true. The wood cracked sharply and broke in half.
    The Sedorne crumpled to the floor, where he groaned and rolled over, trying to get up. I bent, grabbed his shorn hair and smacked his face hard into the stone paving. I heard another crack. His nose. Blood spurted from his face and a spike of visceral satisfaction went through me. I smacked his head against the stones once more; he shuddered and was still.
    I wanted to hit him again – God, I wanted to – but I didn’t have time. Instead I dropped his head and quickly wiped my fingers on my breeches, then straightened, holding on to the splintered remains of the rake. I tucked a cask of pitch under one arm and ran to where the great taper jumped and rippled against the darkening sky. I reached up and thrust the broken piece of wood from the rake into the flame. The splintered end caught immediately.
    Holding the burning wood cautiously, I flew back up the stairs and along the inner wall to the lintel above North Gate, where Deo and the namoa behind the door were being forced back. The gap was wide enough for two men to pass through now, and it was only the spears and stakes that were keeping them at bay – in a moment there would be enough space for them to mount a charge and we would be overwhelmed.
    I crouched and put the cask at my feet, fumbling the cork out one-handed as I held the burning taper far away from my face. On my knees above their heads, I screamed down at Deo and the defenders, “Get back! Get away from the gate!”
    Faces tilted up in angered surprise. Then Deo saw me and let out a great whoop.
“You heard her! Get back!”
he bellowed at the defenders. He grabbed Mira and ran; the other temple people and namoa scattered.
    The Sedorne pushing against the gate let out a roar of triumph as it thudded open. I lifted the cask and doused the outlaws beneath me with the pitch. There were a few yells of surprise and disgust. Their charge stumbled to a stop as they looked up at the wall with belated caution. I shoved the taper into the opening of the cask, waited for the soft
whoomph
as the remaining fluid caught, and then hurled it down onto their heads.
    The wooden cask exploded as it hit the ground, splattering everyone in range with burning pitch. The flames spread rapidly, racing, blue white, from man to man, wherever the pitch had fallen. There was another
whoomph
as the fire took a great breath of new air and unfolded across the flagstones. Screaming broke out and the outlaws fell back, beating frantically at the fires on their faces, bodies and hair. Some rolled on the ground, shrieking with pain; others swore and cursed as they tried to put out the flames that engulfed their friends. For a second, the gateway was empty.
    “Close the gate
!
”
I yelled.
    The namoa were already charging forward, leaping over the flaming patches on our side of the wall and shoving the gate closed with a resounding thud. Deo dropped the iron bolt, pausing only to swat out the small fires that smouldered on the wooden door. There was a ragged cheer from the Rua.
    “Barricade it!” I shouted. “Keep them out!”
    Deo shook a fist at me, already in action. “Get down off that wall before someone knocks you off it, girl!” he called up, pitching his voice over the screaming of the burning Sedorne outlaws.
    I realized I was shaking. I heaved myself to my feet, breathing through my mouth so