Chapter 7: The Oath of the Knight

The rebel camp buzzed with the restless energy of war, its air thick with the scent of pine resin and burning wood. Kara stood just outside the central tent, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth as she watched the rebels move like shadows among the flickering campfires. The night had deepened, a heavy cloak of gray clouds blotting out the stars, and the distant rumble of thunder rolled through the mountains like a warning. Her smaller hammer hung at her belt, its weight a steady reminder of the blood she'd spilled in the sky, while her hands still ached from gripping Ashka's scales. The heat in her chest pulsed faintly, a quiet echo of the dragon's presence, and she glanced at Ashka, who rested near the tent, her amber eyes glowing in the dark.

Talon emerged from the tent, his scarred face illuminated by the lantern light spilling through the flap. His gray eyes found hers, steady and unreadable, and he gestured for her to follow with a curt nod. "Come on," he said, his voice rough but lacking its usual edge. "We're not done yet. You want answers, you earn them."

Kara's jaw tightened, but she fell into step beside him, her curiosity outweighing the fatigue dragging at her bones. He led her past the tents, toward a clearing at the camp's edge where the ground was packed hard and ringed by torchlight. Rebels gathered there, their faces weathered and grim, forming a loose circle around a stretch of open dirt. Ashka followed, her massive form moving with a grace that belied her size, her patched wing flexing as she settled at the clearing's edge, her amber eyes fixed on Kara with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

"What's this?" Kara asked, her voice sharp as she stopped beside Talon, her hand resting on her hammer. The rebels' stares prickled her skin, a mix of suspicion and grudging respect, and she didn't like the feeling of being watched, judged, by strangers she hadn't chosen to fight for.

Talon turned to her, his expression hard but not unkind. "Training," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "You've got guts, Kara, and you've got that bond with Ashka. But guts alone won't keep you alive against Veyl's riders. You need to know how to fight, really fight, not just swing a hammer and hope for the best."

Kara bristled, her emerald eyes flashing with defiance. "I took down two riders today," she said, her voice low and fierce. "I don't need your lessons to prove I can handle myself."

Talon stepped closer, his gray eyes narrowing as he met her glare. "You got lucky," he said, his voice steady but cutting. "Those riders underestimated you, and Ashka did half the work. Next time, they'll come prepared, and luck won't save you. You're in this now, whether you like it or not. So prove you're more than a smith with a temper."

The words stung, sharp and true, and Kara felt her anger flare, hot and bright. She wanted to argue, to shove him away and storm off, but Ashka's low growl rumbled through the clearing, a sound that echoed the heat in her chest, urging her to stay, to rise. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms, then nodded once, her voice tight. "Fine. Show me."

Talon didn't waste time. He drew his sword, its blade catching the torchlight as he stepped into the center of the clearing, and gestured for her to follow. The rebels murmured, their voices a low hum of anticipation, but Kara ignored them, her focus narrowing to Talon and the weapon in his hand. She pulled her hammer free, its familiar weight steadying her as she faced him, her stance wide and ready.

"First rule," Talon said, circling her slowly, his boots silent on the dirt. "Don't wait for them to come to you. Strike fast, strike hard, or you're dead. Get ready, I won't go easy." He lunged without further warning, his sword arcing toward her shoulder, and Kara reacted on instinct, swinging her hammer to block the blow. The impact rang out, metal clashing against metal, and the force jolted up her arm, sharp and electric.

She didn't hesitate. She pushed forward, her hammer swinging in a tight arc toward his ribs, but Talon twisted away, his sword flashing as he countered with a strike at her legs. Kara leapt back, her boots skidding on the dirt, and Ashka let out a sharp bark, her amber eyes glinting with approval. The heat in Kara's chest surged, a fire that fueled her movements, and she pressed the attack, her hammer a blur as she aimed for Talon's chest.

He parried, his sword meeting her hammer with a screech of steel, and for a moment, they were locked together, their weapons trembling with the force of their struggle. His gray eyes met hers, close enough that she could see the storm in them, the mix of challenge and something deeper, something that made her breath catch. "Good," he grunted, shoving her back with a sudden burst of strength. "But you're still thinking like a smith, not a fighter. Stop forging, start killing."

Kara stumbled, her boots digging into the dirt as she regained her balance, her temper flaring at his words. She didn't respond with words, only action, charging at him with a yell, her hammer swinging high. Talon ducked, his sword slashing at her side, but she twisted mid-step, bringing her hammer down in a brutal arc that grazed his shoulder. He grunted, a flicker of pain crossing his scarred face, and the rebels cheered, their voices rising in a rough chorus.

The fight blurred into a dance of steel and fury, each strike a test, each block a lesson. Kara's muscles burned, her breath coming in sharp gasps, but she didn't falter, driven by the heat in her chest and the need to prove herself. Talon was relentless, his sword a whirlwind, but she matched him blow for blow, her hammer finding its mark more than once. Finally, he lunged too close, and she seized the chance, dropping her hammer to grab his wrist and twist, using his momentum to flip him onto the dirt.

She landed on top of him, her knees pinning his chest, her breath ragged as she stared down at him. His gray eyes widened, then softened, a rare grin tugging at his lips as he lay still beneath her. "Not bad, Kara," he said, his voice rough but warm, a concession she hadn't expected. "You might just survive this."

Kara's heart pounded, a mix of triumph and something else, something wild and unnameable, as she held his gaze. The rebels erupted in cheers, their voices a roar that echoed through the clearing, and Ashka's bellow joined them, a sound of fierce pride that resonated in Kara's bones. She didn't move, not yet, caught in the heat of the moment, in the way Talon's eyes held hers, unguarded for the first time.

Then, without thinking, she leaned down, her lips brushing his in a kiss that was rough, angry, and blazing with the fire she'd carried all day. It lasted only a heartbeat, a clash of heat and defiance, before she pulled back, her breath hitching as she scrambled to her feet. Talon stayed on the ground, his expression stunned, then softened into something she couldn't read, a mix of shock and hunger that mirrored the storm in her chest.

"Call it a draw," she said, her voice shaky but firm as she retrieved her hammer, her cheeks burning with a flush she couldn't hide. The rebels laughed, some clapping, others whistling, but Kara barely heard them, her focus on Talon as he rose, brushing dirt from his armor.

"More than a draw," he muttered, his voice low, meant for her alone. He stepped closer, his gray eyes holding hers with a quiet intensity, his hand brushing hers as he passed, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through her. She felt the weight of his gaze settle into her bones, a silent acknowledgment she couldn't name but couldn't deny.

Ashka nudged her with her snout, her amber eyes gleaming with approval, and Kara knew it was true. She'd fought, she'd won, not just against Talon but against the fear that had shadowed her since the forge. The night stretched ahead, dark and uncertain, but for the first time, she felt ready, forged in fury and bound by an oath she hadn't spoken but had lived.