Page 32 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Chapter Fourteen

Fraser

Fraser’s horse galloped through the fields. He heard his men following behind him. The gasps of their horses met his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw dust being kicked up. Scott sidled up next to him, his golden locks whipping in the wind.

“Do ye think it was the brigands from before?” Scott shouted over the wind and horses.

Fraser shook his head. “It cannot be so. They would have to be in two places at the same time.”

“Perhaps they are working together? Perhaps they are a bigger group than we are used to.”

Fraser clenched his jaw, his gaze going skyward. The clouds hung lower, appeared darker. Rain drizzled down from the heavens, pelting him in the face as he urged his horse faster, harder. He could see the straw rooftops, the thick smoke rising into the sky. Fire raged over the cottages, licking the stone. A rooftop fell in, followed by another. Women stood outside their houses, their farms, watching in shock as their husbands and sons threw dirt on the fire. Several men gripped their sickles, shouting amongst themselves as they saw Fraser’s approach.

Fraser’s frown deepened as his gaze settled on two little girls hovering outside the remnants of their home, now burnt to the ground. Their mother sobbed near them on her knees while their father consoled her, holding her close.

“It’s gone,” the woman wailed. “It’s all gone. What are we to do now?”

Fraser jumped down from his horse, striding further into the town. “Everyone grab a shovel!” he shouted while grabbing a discarded tool in the grass.

“Fraser, be careful!” Fraser heard Scott call.

Fraser stalked towards one cottage stepping around a young boy no older than ten summers watching his home in shock. The boy’s hands shook. Tears streamed down from his cheeks.

“Help me, lad!” Fraser shouted to the boy.

The boy’s eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open. He stumbled backward, falling onto his bottom and scrambling to get away from Fraser. “Nae!” the boy shouted. “Nae!”

Fraser watched the boy push his body from the ground and run towards the men in the distance. His frown deepened, watching as the boy pointed in Fraser’s direction. The boy must be in shock, Fraser thought, turning away and shoveling the dirt onto the fire. The heat flushed his skin, making him drip with sweat. If only it would rain more, he thought as he continued shoveling. It would be easier with the rain.

“Help!” a woman shrieked.

Fraser stopped, turning towards a woman running towards her burning home. A man grabbed her, preventing her from reentering the cottage. “My baby!” she shouted. “My baby!”

Fraser’s grasp tightened on the shovel, and his feet took him towards her, running as fast as he could.

“Fraser!” he heard Scott’s shout but ignored him. There was a child in that fire, and he would do everything he could to help his people.

Using the shovel, he slammed it against the door, sidestepping around the flames. He winced as a cloud of smoke brought tears to his eyes. It was difficult to breathe, difficult to see. He coughed violently while he searched through the darkness, unable to hear anything other than the roaring fire.

“Where are ye?” Fraser rasped, using the shovel to poke around the room. He stumbled into a table. His insides burned. His throat felt as if he had eaten ash.

“Help,” a small voice sounded to his right.

Fraser jerked towards it, finding a little boy hiding underneath the bed. The boy poked his head out. His cheeks were covered in soot. A red, puckered rash covered his arm. Fraser reached for him, grabbing his uninjured hand and dragging him out from the bed.

“We need to hurry,” Fraser rasped before bursting into a fit of coughing.

The child clutched to him as Fraser carried him towards the door. Something thudded behind them. Fraser flinched, glancing over his shoulder and finding the roof beginning to fall in. The flames licked the wood, flickering and destroying everything within its path. Another large beam fell in front of them, making Fraser jump back.

“Fraser!” Scott shouted from outside. “Fraser, ye better be bloody alive!”

“I’m in here,” Fraser coughed.

“Blast it.”

Scott entered the door frame, scowling at Fraser from the threshold. “Hurry!” He reached a hand towards Fraser. “Take my hand.”

Fraser grimaced, taking it and leaping over the beam. The boy cried in his arms, burying his head in Fraser’s chest. Fraser gasped, breathing in the fresh air. He took two steps before falling to his knees. The woman ran to him, taking her child from his arms.