Ira once again grabbed a hold of the reins and got the dismayed mass under control, but Letho didn’t care about the fires anymore. His benevolence and worrying about the wellbeing of others had its limits and they were reached the moment this little rescue effort turned into a struggle not for his own life, but for that of the lithe redhead that shivered in his arms. Right now, Irrakam could burn and fall apart around his ears and he would merely amble away from the charcoaled ruins once the fire did its wretched deed. It once again proved what Myrhia knew well by now; Letho was like a coin when it came to emotions. On one side was the amicable, gentle knight that rescued her from slavery, and on the other was a wanderer that was callous to the bone. And while she tried to erase the coldhearted one and replace it as much as possible with the tender one, most of the people still got the cold shoulder.
Myrhia, however, was an altogether different breed. Mellow and kind to the very core, even now when she felt like somebody beat her up with a club, her thoughts fled to the fires that still crackled and the smoke that still ascended towards the already gray skies. “Are the... fires out?” she asked in a whisper, still struggling to equalize her hasty breathing.
“Don’t you worry about that.” he tried to shush her, rubbing his hand over her back in an attempt to warm her a bit more. But as if nature itself wanted to defy him in this effort, a whiff of wind swept over their embraced bodies. Warm and seemingly harmless, the breeze had a rather discomforting effect on the sopped couple and a devastating one on the fires that were instantly provoked to amplify their vehemence. Once again, Letho decided to brush away this little detail. And once again, Myrhia decided not to.
“The wind, Letho.” she muttered, looking up at his face. “It will fuel... the fires even more. You... You have to go and help put them out.”
No, he didn’t. Or at least that was what he thought until he looked down towards the pleading pair of eyes that simply begged him to do something she would be keen on doing if she was capable. “I’ll be ok. I just need some rest. You should go.” and then after he tarried for another couple of seconds. “GO, YOU BIG OAF!”
It was all the incentive he needed. He kissed her on the forehead, then took the blanket off of his shoulders and tucked it around her tightly before he made his way to one of two fire sites in the proximity. The woman that tried to keep things organized was familiar to the Marshal, but he couldn’t tell which of the two names belonged to her; Uriahd or Messia. He decided to leave the names out of it as he approached her and grasped her by the shoulder.
“The wind is picking up.” he started, not taking under consideration that there is a chance that she didn’t understand him. However, she didn’t put on one of those blank, confused faces, so he continued: “We won’t be able to extinguish the fires with just water. I have a plan, but we’re going to need a couple of things. I need a dozen men, a wagon, some shovels and as many canvas sacks as you can get your hands on. We’re going to fill them with sand and use it to take out the fire, alright?”
Messia seemed reluctant at first, but after another gust of wind swept through the streets, distending the fires, she nodded and turned towards the people that seemed under her command for the time being. After another set of instructions spoken in Fallien native tongue, a portion of the crowd scattered and within the minute all the necessary items were procured.
“We have to hurry.” the woman said, struggling a bit with Tradespeak as she uttered the words. “Or there won’t be Irrakam by the time we return.”
Letho cracked the whip over the back of a rather old looking nag and sent the wagon charging through the streets and towards the outskirts. The volunteers that sat in the back of the carriage felt like sacks of potatoes as the Marshal sped through the streets, following Messia’s instructions until the road turned from cobbles into trotted dirt and the houses gave way to picturesque cottages. Defiantly, as if the nature deliberately opposed them, the dry desert wind slapped their faces, reminding them that every second counted.
It took almost fifteen minutes to fill all the sacks that they had. The locals did most of the work on the filling while Letho effortlessly lifted the heavy sacks into the wagon, arranging them rather neatly. Once the work was done, he told Messia to instruct them to go to some of the nearby houses and look for some more sacks, then fill them with sand while the two of them delivered this batch to Irrakam.
The ride back seemed at least twice as long even though they followed more or less the same route. The wind seemed to establish a constant flow now, refusing to give them a break. The smoke was thicker now, clouding the vision and forcing the Marshal do drive the wagon considerably slower, but thanks to Messia’s good navigation, they reached one of the gigantic fires relatively fast. Letho got into the back of the wagon, then noticed that Ira was once again on the forefront, throwing bucket after bucket of water on the fire that seemed to grow stronger just to spite her efforts.
“Ira! Ira, come here!” he shouted, calling the Fallien girl while undoing one of the sacks. “The water will do no good now that the wind picked up! We have to use sand. Tell the people to get as much sand or dirt or whatever and throw it on the fire!”
With that said, he flung the first untied sack at the fire. The canvas thing spun through mid air, spreading the contents all over the flames. Letho didn’t stand around to witness the rather minute but prominent results. His titanic strength enabled him to take the heavy sack and fling them with immaculate precision, striking the heart of the fire and delivering the sandy death. It was him and the people against the wind and the fire and after some ten minutes it was rather clear who won the bout.
They cheered, they clapped their hands, they patted his shoulders and shook his hands once the fires were completely out and all he wanted to do is get to Myrhia. However, the weary, ash-covered faces of the folk that initially accepted him with cold courtesy now seemed thankful and even elated by his presence. There were no more explosions, no more devouring flames, and the dense shroud of smoke was the only remnant of the fires that only moments earlier threatened to destroy the entire capitol. Messia, getting into the whole celebration sprit, placed a warm pecker on his cheek as the two of them approached Ira who seemed at the ends of her strength.
“Well, I think congratulations are in order. We all did fairly well given the circumstances to preserve as much of Irrakam as possible.” he said to the woman with a mild smirk on his face. The people around them murmured and spoke and shouted, all overjoyed by the victory over one of the deadliest elements.