Bonded to the Rakian Berserker (Rakian Warrior Mates #3) - Elin Wyn Page 0,27
the distribution of the fire bothered him.
No good thinking about what might be, he shook himself.
And then in a sudden rush of flames, the smoldering caravan roofs ignited again, stronger and fiercer than before.
With a growl he raced back to the caravan he and Jormoi had moved.
What in the Void had happened? It had barely been smoldering, just a few minutes before.
And now, there might not be enough to save.
He grabbed the burning curved line of the roof and pulled, ripping it free from the walls.
Before he dashed to the back of the caravan to repeat the maneuver, he caught a quick glimpse of the inside. The tidy bed, covered woven baskets, contents spilled on the floor, brightly painted chests.
Just like the debris he’d sorted through in the field where Esme’s family had been massacred.
With another massive heave he wrenched the rest of the roof free, and snapped it like a great wave, the explosion of air across its surface blowing out the fire like a snuffed candle.
“New plan!” he shouted, racing back to the broken ring.
Quickly Gavin and Jormoi began to pull the roofs off the other caravans while the men and women of Hendrick’s clan fought the smoldering stalls.
Windows were lit all around the far edge of the market square.
But no one emerged to offer assistance or shelter.
“Why isn’t anyone coming to help?” Gavin yelled as he passed Hendrick’s soot smudged form. “What’s wrong with those people?”
“Our problems aren’t their problems,” the older man said curtly. “We don’t expect anything from them.”
Slowly they made progress against the ravenous flames, beating them back, caravan by caravan.
“You know what this looks like,” Jormoi called out as they ripped another roof from its supports.
Gavin nodded grimly.
He didn’t have Kennet’s lab to run any tests, determine the exact formula, but they’d seen variants of the same tactics on multiple worlds.
A highly flammable substance, thrown or splashed onto the target.
Followed by a lit brand or fire arrow, the whole surface would ignite. And depending on the solution used, it could slowly smolder until full combustion.
Not an accident, and not simple arson.
This was something cleverer, more insidious than that.
One by one they worked around the circle.
Gavin almost thought they might win the battle against the hungry flames.
And then a new sensation ran through him.
Heart racing, breaths becoming shallow.
Fear.
He shook his head, confused.
Through countless battles across the galaxy, fear had been a stranger.
Then he realized where it must be coming from.
Who it must be coming from.
“Something is happening to Esme,” he shouted to Jormoi.
“Go!” his brother yelled back. “I’ve got this.”
Gavin leapt away and Hendrick and three of his men stepped up on the rim of the wagon to take his place.
They’d manage it. They have to.
Because now that his vision was no longer blinded by the firelight, he could make out the dark shapes that had encircled the women and children.
And Esme.
At least twenty of them, tall men clad in black, fabric masks covering their faces.
They moved fluidly, as if they’d been trained.
Gavin reached the nearest one, grabbed the man from behind. Lifting him overhead he tossed the body against the far wall of the market square.
They had some training. But not nearly enough.
The rest of the attackers were closer to where Esme and Brynlee circled, backs to the huddled children, facing the enemy.
Gavin caught the pink hair ribbon of the little girl who told them the story that afternoon held tight in the arms of a slightly older boy.
Her face suddenly scrunched up, and the men clad in black who was closest to them stumbled.
“Good girl,’’ he growled as he tossed the next attacker to the side.
A lump on the ground caught his attention.
Huh.
Apparently, there’d been a few more before he got started.
Short, bright daggers stuck out from the throat of another black clad figure.
As he reached his third target, Brynlee spun, the sharp blade flying from her hand like a deadly bird to land deep in the shoulder of another man.
Three more daggers followed, and the man fell.
As Esme and Brynlee circled, he caught sight Esme’s face, teeth bared in defiance, daggers of her own in hand.
Gavin roared into the night, his pride in her fierceness, his fury that anyone had come so close to her to make her feel she needed to protect herself, echoing against the stone walls.
Half of the remaining enemy were smart enough to turn to face him.