Ezra woke with a start, sitting up quickly to turn his head towards Anai. It was morning, he knew that from the light shining into the carriage. Anai was gone, probably for hours now. She didn't sleep much anymore, and often left to scout before he woke up. That wasn't what tripped his senses into a panic.
Fire. The smell of fire drifted into the carriage. There was always fire in camp, but never this early, and never that much. The sounds of fighting came with the smell. Quickly he clipped his bomb belt over his sleeping clothes and burst through the flap. Outside, four of the carriages were ablaze.
Mirim and Griff fought two Eartheye across the camp. Mirim held his mace in stone hands, swinging it over his head with a cry, crushing one of his attacker's shoulders. The other moved to attack but was stopped by Griff's faster than sight stab into the space between the slabs of stone that separated the man's arm and shoulder. The Windish pulled the knife free and dropped it. His arm disappeared at the shoulder, reappearing a second later to catch the falling knife. In one fluid motion he stabbed the knife between the man's kneecap and leg and jammed it down, shattering the stone slabs that made up his knee. The sound made Ezra wince, metal scraping against stone. Griff vaulted over Mirim's back with one hand, landing on the other attacker with the crushed shoulder. The man stumbled back, shocked at the slender man now balancing on his shoulders.
Mirim wasted no time on the opportunity, swinging low with his mace to crush through one leg. The man cried out in pain and crumbled as Griff jumped from his shoulders in a backflip, landing gracefully on the ground. Mirim lifted his mace again and crushed the man's head. He turned to the other, who was now pleading for his life, and did the same.
Ezra was so captured by the sight that he barely dodged the swing of a sword, red hot above his head. He stepped back, assessing his attacker. The long red-haired man didn't let up, slashing wide for Ezra's stomach with a yell of exertion.
In his head Ezra cycled through the bombs on his belt. Choosing one, he dove backward, unclipping a small red sphere. The tip of his pointer finger turned to flame, and he lit the small fuse atop the orb. As his back hit the ground, he tossed it straight at the man's chest. The Flairus caught it with his free hand instinctively. Confused, he opened his hand to look straight at the object. Ezra snapped his eyes shut, just as it exploded with a brilliant flash, sending the man tumbling backward, dropping his sword.
The man writhed and screamed on the ground, holding his eyes with his hands. "My eyes! By the King my eyes, they burn!" he yelled scooting backwards, heels digging into the ground. Ezra leaped back to his feet, taking his large knife from the back of his belt. He grabbed the man's collar and cut his throat. Cries of pain turned to gurgles as Ezra quickly got off him and took a few steps back.
The man erupted in flame, dissipating into the air, his clothes left burning in a pile. The earth where he laid was charred, leaving the imprint of his back, on the ground. The man's sigil glinted on the chest of the shirt. The left half was the sign of the Flairus, a single flame in a box. The right, two parallel swords, one pointing up, the other down. The sign of the military.
The smell of blood made Ezra's stomach churn. He had killed many people in his short life, all deserving, but he never got used to the smell. He felt sick but swallowed the urge. There were more important things than his uneasiness.
He looked around to see that Mirim and Griff had taken down two more foes, and the others of the camp were ending their fights as well. Four Eartheye, turned to clothed cold stone statues, two sets of wet clothes on the ground, and a scorch on a tree with a pile of burning clothes under it, littered the burning camp. Men quickly changed tasks to put out the flames on the carriages.
There was no sign of Anai, other than the dress neatly folded by their carriage. She had to be in the air looking for the missing men. Hopefully, she found them soon. The carriages needed to get to the Western Province as soon as possible. The military knew where they were now.
