The world about him fell to total darkness, and silence ruled on all sides. The forest that Mika ran through was freezing, and as he hobbled along the road, he felt his limbs begin to lose their feeling. Clouds still blocked out the stars and moon, and only an hour before, it began to drizzle down upon the world and upon the scribe.
He stopped, finally reaching the pain threshold of his swollen ankle. His body began shivering violently, and he felt the strength of his worn out legs giving way. With a heavy thump, he dropped his bottom to the ground and sat there. The air he panted stung his throat and lungs with its chill.
It was hard to think, but the scribe felt that, in his panic fueled flight, he had gone the wrong direction. There was little way to be sure, but with the understanding that the road through Northguard split into two, forming the southern and northern road, that he had taken the lower of the two. While each one would eventually take him to Mountcrane, he had never traveled the southern road before, and had no knowledge of what lay upon it. Would he find travelers? Would he find towns to stay at and find medical help? Would the invaders take the southern road behind him or the northern? This question always stayed on his mind.
"If they do, then you can't stop here." He would repeat to himself anytime his body begged him to lay down for a time. Up until now, it had worked. However, the moment his bottom met with the muddy road below, he knew there would be no way for him to get back up again.
The freezing rain stung against his scalp and stiffened his hair into frosty locks. He tried several times to run his fingers through the ice shards, but only managed to melt them through his hair which caused them to refreeze through his whole head. As the minutes passed, he felt his body going quiet, and his eyes drooping low. Despite the stinging blows of the rain, its rhythm began to lull him into a drowsiness.
But then he heard them. Faint at first, so that he felt it might be the sounds of nature about him. But soon the voices came through, and he lifted his numbed eyes to look down the way he had come. Two torches walked towards him, some thirty yards away. He could not move, so instead, he listened.
"The tracks are leading this way." One said.
"How many did you see getting off before they started sending us out?" asked the other. It sounded like two very young men, to Mika. Possibly just young boys barely of age.
"Not many. There were those two on the horse. They certainly killed a lot of us."
"Probably none of us catching them."
"We will see. Only so much land for them to run to now, anyways." There was a long pause between them as they walked. Then, the one on the right stopped, and turned to his companion.
"What do you think we are finding here anyway?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"I mean, do you think there is something really beyond these mountains worth looking at, let alone fighting?" The other held up his torch to his face and looked at him for a good time. Mika only sat a few feet before them and got a perfect look at the two. His tired mind attempted to scream in panic at the sight of the two invaders, but nothing would come.
"Are you losing faith already?"
"No not anything like that." The one responding took a step back. "It's just that we have been marching for near two years now. What if-" He looked for the words. "What if we get to the sea and there is nothing there? It was a lot easier when we knew how much land there was to still travel before this place. Now the road's coming to the end, and we will either see if there is anything to Enoch's promises or not."
His companion lifted a sword in his other hand, that Mika had not been able to see until its metal reflected off of the torchlight, and pointed it at the other invader.
"Perhaps you should keep such fears to yourself, Myra. Wouldn't want to have to tell Dorrian about it, would we?" The other let out a nervous chuckle.
"No reason to be all like that. I-I'm still walking south, same as all of you. Don't have to worry about that."
"Why, that's good news, Myra. Very good news. Let's see you proving it right now by following these tracks." They marched on, but halted moments later.
Mika looked between the two young men, and the two looked down at him, all three rather confused. Slowly they looked at the tracks before them, then at Mika, then at the tracks again, and finally, they understood.
"Well, here we go now." The one holding the sword smiled down at the scribe, who felt any desire to sleep fly totally away as he looked death in the face. "Looks like you didn't have to walk far at all, Myra." The one called Myra took the remaining steps forward and squatted before Mika. The invader was very clean, the scribe noticed, with neatly braided hair, and a shaved face. His clothes were gray, and not decorated.
His eyes looked bright and happy. He peered through the drizzle at the shivering man before him, searching his face through the light of the torch. After a moment a kindly smile appeared on his face.
"My friend," He said, "you will freeze out here as you are." His words were spoken without an ounce of the strange manic behavior Mika had seen at the mountain pass. Instead, he talked like a homekeeper might to their children. "Come with us. We will take care of you." He held out his free hand, palm up. Mika flinched away, and a concerned look came upon Myra's face. "No, no please. Do not be afraid. We have not been sent after you to harm you. You have my word." Still Mika scooted away. He assumed his refusal would bring forth a violent reaction from the men, however they both only looked at him pityingly. He felt confused, unsure what to make of the situation he was within. Perhaps it was the rain and ice making him lose reason. Or maybe the shock of having just been in the battle. Or even the exhaustion from running through the night all this way. Perhaps all at once made for the scene before him. It probably was simply all within his mind.
"Myra, don't talk like that." The other took a step closer. "Don't you think he might be a little untrusting of us after the wall came down?" He put away his sword and smiled down at Mika with a full grin. "Hello there. I'm Bren, and this is Myra. Understand, we have not come here to harm you. Our master Enoch sent us out to look for you."
"Look for me?" Mika's voice came out raspy and low. Myra nodded his head.
"Yes. We have no interest in harming you or your people."
"That," his voice faltered for a moment. "That is not what I saw at the wall." The two before him went silent, and they both looked up and down the road behind Mika. Their faces shifted to a look of sternness, and Myra stood up and held his torch out. Mika was sorry for its warmth being taken away.
"Who goes there?" Myra called out, and Bren brought out the sword once more. Mika turned his head around and looked too into the darkness. "We know you're there. Just come on nicely then." The scribe saw nothing for some time. Though he did think that his ears picked up the splashing of steps in the mud. After some time, indeed, there was a shape taking form off down the road. He was impressed at the two's ability to be aware of the approacher so far away.
The figure halted. The road became silent, save for the rain striking the mud and the torches blustering about in the wind. The two invaders walked past Mika and stood side by side between him and the figure.
"Listen to me now, stranger. We are ambassadors of Enoch. You will lay down any weapons you have and come with us, this very moment." More silence. "Step forth to us now, or we will use force." Myra reached behind him and pulled an axe from the back of his belt that Mika had not seen until now. "Very well. Bren, stay with the-" He had only taken two steps down the road when he stopped very suddenly. There was a sound of an impact and then a gurgling sound came from Myra. The man half turned to look at his companion. An arrow had been lodged deep into his throat. The invader groped at it, and pleaded with his eyes to Bren. Bren, still unsure as to what happened, looked at the arrow for a few seconds before rushing to his friend's aid.
"Hold on, hold on. Stop moving you fool." He tried in vain to find some way to remove the arrow, all the while Myra's panic grew to a frenzy until he finally threw himself on the ground. The dying man rolled about in a panic to try and find some way to gain access to the air he had so suddenly been cut off from. Bren kept shouting at him to stop and let him help, but Myra was too far gone. It went on like this for another minute, then Myra stopped. The scent of excrement filled Mika's nose, even through the cold air its smell overwhelmed him. It brought with it memories of the recent battle and the sight of the soldier burning alive at his feet.
Bren knelt beside his dead friend for some time before reaching out and shaking him, asking for him to respond. When he did not, the invader rose swiftly and turned down the road again. He lifted his sword.
"You fight with us, stranger, and you fight with Enoch himself. No amount of arrows shot in the dark will keep you from him. Arrows can't kill the one given to us by the horizon." There was silence. Then, down the road, came the voice.
"Are you this Enoch from the horizon?"
"What? No, of course not."
"Do you have money to give me?" Bren blinked in confusion at the question.
"N-no."
"I see." An arrow went through the invader's eye, snapping his head back with a crack. He stood for a moment, then fell upon his back. The impact splashed mud about, covering Mika in the filth. The scribe sat panting, feeling his heart might leap from his throat. What in this reality was happening tonight? And when would it end?
Both torches had landed near enough to Mika, after being dropped by their owners, so that he knew his visibility to the figure was guaranteed. For nearly a full minute, he waited, expecting to soon feel an arrow ending his life. But, instead of the sound of a wooden shaft zipping through the rain, he heard only footsteps. Unhurried, they came down the road. Moment by moment the figure came clearer into view, and the clearer it became, the more confused the scribe felt.
Standing two feet from him was what looked to be a young man. Probably no more than sixteen judging by his height, though lean looking. He wore no shirt, and only wool pants and leather boots. But upon his head, straining Mika's understanding of the image, the youth wore a black wolf hide. The animal's face protruded from the boy's forehead like a second face. Mika found that any time he wanted to address the boy, he tended to look at the wolf head by mistake.
"Do you too wish to bring me to Enoch?" The boy remained standing, arrow nocked to the bow's string, looking down at the scribe. There was little to read on his face, and his voice hinted at no great emotion.
"No." Mika rasped out and shook his head slowly.
"Very well." The boy slung the bow over his shoulder and began walking back down the road where he had come from. For a moment, Mika felt a great relief at having been not only rescued from the invaders, but also being spared from an arrow. Then he suddenly remembered the situation he had been in before the encounter had taken place.
"Wait, please." The boy halted and turned around. "I- I need help. Please, can you take me to a doctor." Mika crawled forward a bit, revealing his swollen ankle. "Please." The boy looked at him for a moment before responding.
"Have you any money?"