A Warlord's Heart by Michelle Howard

Author:Michelle Howard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal, fantasy romance, medieval, scifi romance

Chapter 9

When the alarm sounded, Vaan froze. Ramar broke off what he was saying mid-sentence. Vaan waited to see if the alarm was in error but again the horn blew and his blood chilled. Ramar exploded into action and left. Jumping to his feet, Vaan burst through his office door right behind him, unmindful of who he knocked aside in his haste. He scanned the dining hall, searching specifically for two of his Warlords. Their absence in the melee sent his heart thudding against his chest.

Vaan darted through the Raasa gathering around in fear and shoved a few more from his path. When he lunged through the main front door, his Warlords outside shouted and pointed. Vaan scanned the horizon and their surroundings for danger. Nothing caught his eyes. His gaze traveled to the gate as he leaped down the stone stairs, hitting the ground in a crouch before straightening.

Ramar came up behind Vaan, sword in hand. Fear pulsed in beats filling Vaan’s blood with dread. He had to concentrate to ask Ramar, “Where are Balal and Amrod?”

Let them be somewhere within the safety of the home he’d fortified.

“Kiel said they were last seen going to the stables with the youngling, Sire.”

The only flaw in Mikayla’s father’s design was the hapfe stables. They were located on the outside of the gate that surrounded the Raasa compound. Vaan studied the elaborate structure his mate spent a large sum of money keeping up to date for the animals that meant a great deal to her. Perhaps he worried for naught. But the alarms had signaled intruders.

Vaan faced Ramar and dragged in a deep breath. “We will check the stables.”

A loud boom vibrated on the air. Vaan jerked his head back around. Flames shot from the red tiled roof as the stable caught fire then the empty pen next to it. Horror morphed into agony, ripping apart what little composure he’d maintained. Vaan roared and ran as if his life depended on it. His Warlords fell in step behind him and he heard bits and pieces of their shouted speech.

“Fire hashi.”

“The Raasa say they saw riders leaving.”

“No warning.”

Every nerve stood on end. All of their words meaningless. Tolan had the bar up as Vaan blazed through, feet pounding. He cut across the distance to the single building, the spreading fire acting as a beacon as he lunged through the wooden double doors, banging them back on their hinges and withdrew his sword. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Vaan came to a halt and raised his palm, gasping for breath. His Warlords stopped behind him. The acrid odor of smoke billowed out. The crumpled body of Wessel, the stable master, partly blocked the entrance.

His youngling. Where were his youngling?

Vaan charged forth, yelling behind him, “Sulon, check Wessel.”

Sweat beaded on his brow and the knot in his throat would not loosen. Vaan stormed deeper into the stables, choking on the pungent air. The hapfe trumpeted in agitation and kicked at their stalls. They shook their manes as he passed by, thudding paws against the doors in a bid for freedom.

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