Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5) by Sam Taw (10 best novels of all time TXT) 📕

far more than I could have expected. He must have spent the whole day foraging out in the blazing sun. I toyed with the idea of keeping the messenger’s news to myself so as not to dampen his happy disposition, but I knew that he’d wheedle it out of me eventually. We sat together and ate every last mouthful, teasing out the meat from the cracked claws with eager tongues. It was fit for the gods in every way.

When, at last, I relayed all that I’d learned in Tallack’s hut, Ren sucked in air over his teeth and shook his head. “I have to admit.” He said, moving over towards our bunk and smoothing out the furs. “I thought Skentel had more sense than to trust the Duros so soon after the peace treaty. I always took him to be a bright lad.”

I stacked our bowls to wash in the morning and followed him over to the bed. “Aye, it’s not like the lad to put Cryda and Endelyn in harm’s way.”

“Still, there’s nothing we can do about it tonight.” He stripped off his clothes and carried the torch over to the cold fire pit at the centre of the hut. The flame sputtered in the ashes and died.

Climbing on top of the furs, I said, “No, you’re right, but I shall worry about them nonetheless.” I snuggled down by his side and rested my head on his collarbone.

Ren kissed my forehead, slipped his arms about me and squeezed me tight. “Well, as things stand, they can’t get any worse.” His chuckling jogged my entire torso making me smile. He had a curious way of looking at things, ever hopeful, always calm.

Despite his attempts to pacify me, I could not sleep. I lay awake in the darkness until the moon was high and Ren was snoring. When I heard a dull thud, I elbowed him in the ribs. “What was that?”

He didn’t even open his eyes. “Go back to sleep. Probably a bird dropped something on the thatch.”

“In the middle of the night?” I sat up, but he was snoring once again. It was just a short time later that I caught a familiar smell, the acrid stench of smoke filling the upper roof space of our hut. The crackling noises grew louder until there was no doubt in my mind what was happening. Coughing, I shook my friend awake, just as the first clumps of smouldering reeds fell onto our bunk.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Get up! The hut’s on fire!” I screamed, yanking Ren by the arm and pulling him free of the flaming patches of fallen material. My shoulder joint popped with the exertion; my heart raced in my chest. Every instinct told me to flee with all haste, but I had to make sure he was clear of danger. The sizzling timbers and roar of the flames pulsed with each gust of wind, spreading the embers across the width of the roof. The choking fumes swirled ever lower, prickling my scalp with the searing heat.

Ren rolled onto the ground and tried to rescue our furs but it was too late. The animal hair caught fire in an instant, filling the air with rancid vapours. Ren bundled our clothes into his arms while I grabbed my medicine bag and the precious blades. Together, we hurried outside calling for assistance.

I had no need to worry what the men would think of me wearing next to nothing. As soon as we were through the door, it was obvious that no one would come to our aid let alone notice my distress. The valley was thick with smoke, red hot sparks drifted as the wind fanned the flames over the roofs of every hut in our little community. Everywhere I looked, warriors spilled out of their shelters in blind panic, some with the presence of mind to grab their belongings, others shrieking in pain and dowsing their skin with water from the river. Horses broke free of their tethers and bolted upstream and away. A few of our ponies were slow enough for their owners to grab their reins and lead them to safety.

Through the wall of heat and charred reeds, I could see the remains of torches flung high onto the thatch of each hut. The Alchemists’ patience had paid off. This was the first night since our arrival where the wind gusted, making the job of burning us alive in our sleep easy.

My first thoughts were of those I loved. I snapped my head this way and that, trying to peer through the smog and haze in search of my nephew. “Where’s the Chief?” I wailed. “Has anyone seen Tallack?” Stumbling along the central path clutching my bag, I shielded my face from the scorching heat with a raised arm. The closer I ran towards his hut, the more Ren tried to push me back. He dropped our clothes and encircled me like a hunting dog, slamming the heels of his hands into my shoulders.

“Don’t be stupid. You’ll get yourself killed.” He yelled.

“He might need me.” I stopped dead in my tracks. Our Chief was standing in the clearing near to his hut at the heart of the chaos, shouting his orders to those who were unharmed to fetch water or dampen flames with earth and sand. It was just as well I’d spotted him in time, since the path narrowed a short way ahead and the houses on either side burned with ferocious intensity. Only a small gap existed through which I could see my nephew unharmed and coolly in charge, but my relief was short-lived.

A shadowy figure tumbled from the hut on the left, rolling on the singed grass to extinguish the flames licking his back and shoulders. His shape was unmistakable, his great hulking mass was like no other. Kewri stayed on the ground, curled into a ball. I could hear his whimpers above the shouting men, cracking wood and thundering hooves of the fleeing horses.

“He’s not