Page 32 of The Bells of Triumph (Highlands’ Lost Valley #3)

PROLOGUE

S moke plumed into the sky, smearing the vibrant sunset into a hazy fog. From their spot on the hill, none of the men paid much attention to it. It looked no bigger than the smoke from a campfire. But when the cloud began to grow larger and larger, James found he could not take his eyes off it.

The rest of the men he had been riding with continued to move around him, setting up camp and tending to the horses. It had been a long day in the saddle and they all wanted nothing more than to settle in for the night and let the soft breeze of the highland mountains lull them to sleep. He didn’t blame them for ignoring what might have been a run-of-the-mill bonfire. Except, there was nothing normal about the cloud of smoke that now covered the sky.

“Saddle up. Now!”

James’ order was met with haste but he did not miss the confused glances being cast his way. It was a matter of minutes before all of the men were back atop their horses and racing down the hill. They had finally taken notice of the signs of fire and pushed their horses to run as fast as they dared.

They wove in and out of the thick forest, the large oak trees blocking their view from what they were searching for. James’ heart pounded against his chest, warning him that something terrible was about to take place.

A few more yards and the tree line broke, exposing a little hut situated not far from the river. The water had done little to help the wooden structure from catching fire.

He scanned the area, looking for any other houses or someone who might know what was going on, but came up empty. With a quick signal, his men fanned out around the hut, peering into the flames for any signs of someone trapped inside.

The roof was dilapidated and there were several places where the wood on the walls had completely rotted away even before the fire. James hoped and prayed that no one was inside, not only to be saved from the fire but because he couldn’t imagine anyone surviving in such poor conditions out here, alone.

James looped around the hut once more. He had yet to make up his mind on what to do. The house was in such disrepair that it was almost not worth saving, but if someone was inside, they would have to do their best to douse the flames.

Fire ate at the door, the wood collapsing in a heap. The bright, nearly white flames licked up the sides of the house. He knew that if the fire spread to the thatched roof, there would be no saving anyone or anything inside. There were precious few minutes left before that happened.

With no signs that anyone was inside, James raised his hand to give an order to his men to stay back. They would stay only long enough to ensure that the fire didn’t spread to the rest of the forest.

“Alri—"

A high-pitched scream cut off whatever James had been about to say. Pure, bone-deep dread filled him. Someone was inside.

Without a second thought, James launched himself off his horse and sprinted towards the house. Grabbing a bucket, he rushed to the river’s edge and scooped up as much water as he could. He ran back to the house and threw the water into the flames, not stopping to see if it made much of a difference before he raced back to the river to do it all over again.

One by one his men likewise found some instrument to scoop up the water while a handful of others led their horses back into the forest. The cacophony of voices grew as James continued to work, his brow drenched in sweat. He could not tell if it was from the strain of trying to put out the fire or the heat from the flames themselves, but it did not matter.

The cries from inside the hut grew louder, pushing him to work faster and faster. He demanded the men form a line, passing buckets of water between each other, but still, it made little difference. Even with the arrival of the rest of his men and more than a dozen villagers and their buckets, the fire burned relentlessly.

There were too many people for James to keep any kind of order in the situation. There were too many voices shouting directions for anyone to be heard. His head pounded and his heart slammed harder.

A man he did not recognize leapt over the fire that ate at the threshold and rushed inside. The movement pushed back the smoke just enough for James to see three small figures hunched over, coughing and crying.

Children. There were children trapped inside.

James dropped his bucket and took off running towards the hut once more. He wrapped the ends of his tartan around his shoulders, arms, and face, willing the wool to protect him from the worst of the flames.

He could barely hear the shouts of his men urging him to wait as he rushed into the hut. All he could think about was how he had several children of his own, safely tucked inside his house. He imagined their faces on the silhouettes of the children that stood inside the home.

The sound of wood splintering pushed him to move faster. The villager he had watched jump into the house just moments before was nowhere to be seen, but then again, James could hardly see his own hand in front of his face.

The children’s cries guided him through the smoke and when James bumped into a warm body not even reaching his side, he bent down and pulled the child up. Readjusting his tartan to cover the child, James used his free hand to swipe around the space, hoping to find another child nearby. But when he heard the overhead beams cracking, he knew he was out of time.

Turning back the way he came, James jumped out of the hut mere moments before the entire building collapsed behind him. Debris, ashes, and embers scattered everywhere, threatening to alight the entire forest.

James didn’t stop. He leapt onto his horse and kicked it into a run. The body in his arms was limp and soft. Only when they were riding in the direction of the closest healer did James look down at the child he was holding. The strong nose and proud brow spoke of the boy’s stubbornness. James imagined it was that same stubbornness that kept the boy breathing, even if it was just barely.

The echoes of the chaos he had left behind them followed them through the forest, but James could think of nothing but getting the boy to a healer. He spurred his horse faster and then sent up a quiet prayer.

“Save them.”