Tapestry of Fear by Margaret Pemberton Page B

tinder-box, sending huge soaring clouds of dense smoke billowing out over the valley, the stench of burning wood filling our nostrils as the breeze caught hold of the smoke carrying it up on a great upsurge of air.
    Within minutes Lindaraja was ablaze, a flickering mass of gold and red, then men fleeing down the steps, their shouts of blind destruction now those of fear and panic. The flames flared higher and higher, and the smouldering, racking fumes thickened the air so that Romero was lost from sight.
    Then, in the hideous flush that now filled the valley, we saw the dark silhouettes of Jose and Javier, sweeping down towards Lindaraja, forcing their horses nearer and nearer to the leaping flames.
    I thought my head would burst with panic and horror of a magnitude I never dreamt existed. With a moan of pain that I hardly recognised as my own, I pulled on the reins, digging in my heels, and Solitaire swung round, neck low to avoid the overhanging branches, racing after Jose and Javier.
    I heard Roque’s cry clearly but took no heed of it. I had to be with him. Had to be there. Had to help, however ineffectually.
    With a rattle of loose stones and pounding hooves Roque caught up with me, leaning over frantically to grasp Solitaire’s reins, but I was having none of it.
    â€œNo,” I shouted, the wind whipping my hair away from my face. “No!”
    I turned my head to his, seeing the indecision in his eyes and shouted again. “It’s no use, Roque. We have to help!”
    His uncertainty fled, the solemn face was white and drawn. Without another word he let go of Solitaire’s reins, racing down the mountainside towards Lindaraja, only yards behind me.
    The ground was steep, littered with rocks and boulders, but Solitaire found his own way, galloping at full pelt while I strove to see Javier and Jose ahead of me.
    Dust rose in swirling, choking clouds and then we were on turf and Solitaire thudded on, my ears filled with the sound of his pounding hooves, the very ground seeming to throb beneath the drumming onslaught. Roque was passing me now, the chestnut of his horse gleaming wet with sweat, thundering down the last slope to Lindaraja.
    The entrance to the stables yawned open and I checked Solitaire’s speeding gallop, steadying his head, gasping with fear as he reared away from the flying sparks, then obeyed, clattering into the stables and what looked to be hell on earth.
    Great billows of smoke swept chokingly round me as I slid off Solitaire’s back, sending him out through the gates and into the safety of the mountainside. The holocaust of leaping crimson tongues was veering towards the stables, the sparks igniting the wood above the horse’s stalls, their hooves beating with terror in their trapped tombs. Through the flare I saw the runing figure of the stable boy, dodging bits of falling, blazing beams, racing across the heat of the courtyard flinging open the first of the stall doors as the fire took firm hold, crackling and leaping across the stable roofs. His arm was raised to protect his scorching face as he desperately slammed the bolt back, the horse rearing with terror before galloping out of the yard, mane flying in the wind, burning pinpricks of flame scattering its back.
    â€œLet them out,” Roque yelled to me as he and the stable boy wrestled with another horse too terrified to flee. “ For God’s sake, open the stalls!” I ran to the nearest stall, sparks showering down as I pulled the bolt free and the horse charged past me, knocking me to the ground. I caught a fleeting glimpse into the courtyard as I scrambled to my feet and I could see running figures, and a holocaust of fire consuming Lindaraja’s heart, but I could not see Romero or Javier. Or Jose.
    â€œThe horses!” Roque shouted above the pandemonium. “There’s two more … over there.”
    He was gasping for breath, his face blackened with smoke. “ They’ll