Page 75 of Ensnaring the Dove
“There’s no point in staying here,” he shouted over the din. “These houses can’t be saved … but maybe your workshop can be. Get home and douse the roof and exterior with water.”
Their gazes fused for an instant before Keir’s jaw tightened. With a nod, he stepped back, turned, and ran from the square.
Turning, Aedan rejoined the line to refill his bucket from the well. However, as he waited, his gaze alighted upon the walls of the compound, where a row of soldiers had gathered.
His first thought, upon hearing it was arson, was that malcontent still festered within the fort—and that one of the disgruntled legionaries had started the fire.
However, the soldiers’ gazes weren’t trained on the burning vicus as he’d expected, but on the high palisade beyond.
Aedan’s skin prickled as his warrior instincts stirred. The arson wasn’t just some vengeful act, but a diversion.
Something else was afoot.
Aedan shoved the bucket into the hands of a woman waiting next to him and raced from the square, following the squads of legionaries that marched toward the palisade.
Even amongst the chaos, Roman soldiers didn’t break rank, didn’t panic. Despite the recent unrest within the fort, these men were well trained. When threatened, instinct kicked in, and they knew what to do.
Dark, acrid smoke drifted through the vicus now, like black fog, with the glow of the inferno lighting up the sky behind them.
Reaching the palisade, Aedan waited while the soldiers thundered up the steps to the guard tower and the walkway that circuited the fort. The barked orders of the centurions above reached him, and his chest constricted.
Aye, it was as he’d feared.
Onnum was under attack.
A ball of flame flew over the walls then and collided with a squad of soldiers who’d been approaching behind Aedan.
Howls of agony echoed through the vicus. A legionary, flaming like a candle, staggered across the street before collidingwith a nearby wall. Another fireball flew over the walls, and the neat ranks of soldiers scattered.
Backing up toward the great oak and iron gates, where men were shoving metal braces into place, Aedan glanced around him.
He had to know what they were dealing with.
Scaling the steps and dodging the elbows of soldiers who tried to shove him out of the way, Aedan made it up onto the wall.
And when he gazed down at the vallum, the high turf ramparts and the deep ditch that protected the fort, his belly swooped.
A sea of figures, their naked torsos gleaming in the torchlight, swelled in a great tide to the south. And at a glance, Aedan knew they were Brigante. The tribes north of the Wall painted themselves in blue woad to go into battle, yet these warriors, some of them heavily tattooed, were clad only in bracae, their auburn and brown hair pulled back from savage faces.
They’d placed long ladders across the vallum and were scrambling across it. And some had already reached the southern gates.
Arrows flew from longbows, and Aedan ducked as a volley clattered against the palisade.
“What areyoudoing up here, Brigante?”
Aedan swiveled to see Severus Juventus bearing down on him. The commander wore a magnificent fanned helmet and gripped a gladius in his right hand.
“Friends of yours, are they?”
“No,” Aedan replied, surprised at the swiftness of his response. The warriors attacking Onnum weren’t his brothers. Like Juventus, he too was trapped within these walls. “Give me a sword, and I’ll help you defend this fort.”
Juventus’s lip curled. “Leave the wall,” he snarled. “You’ll only get yourself trampled on up here.”
“Commander!” A soldier shouted. “To your left.”
Juventus whirled, just in time, as a lithe figure vaulted over the edge of the wall and came for him.
The attackers had managed to erect one of their ladders against the palisade and were scaling it.