If there was any urgency left in the battered and bruised bodies of Pascen's residents, they no longer had the strength to show it. They meandered over to the horse drawn carriages and took their places with only a few possessions left to their name. All the while – hundreds of mercenaries and guards kept a close watch at the perimeter of the city, ensuring that nothing could slip through while everyone was assembled in one place.
"There are thousands of people here," Ryan sighed.
Jonell shrugged it off, "We just have to do the best job we can. It's crazy to think that this place is going to be totally abandoned soon."
"You think the Duke is going to stick to his word and stay behind?"
He scoffed, "Probably not. Those nobles are only interested in themselves. I'm sure he'll sneak away after the rabble are gone and hide in a friend's mansion for a few years while everything blows over."
"Huh, you think so? I don't think that guy could show his face in public again if he pulled a stunt like that. He should have just come with in the first place if he didn't want to die."
Jonell laughed, "They don't have one bit of shame in their bodies. I can tell you that much."
Ryan observed as a family of three huddled together under a soaked blanket. One of the guardsmen waved them through to the carriage but offered little in the way of assistance. The father pulled his wife up and onto the first available seat, but their son caught his foot on a piece of uneven stone and fell to the ground. Before he knew it, Ryan was already hovering over the whimpering boy and extending a hand to help him back up.
"Careful there, little guy. You wouldn't want to make your Mom cry as well." The snivelling youth nodded and tried to dry his clothes off by squeezing them with his hands. Ryan grabbed him and hefted him up into the waiting arms of his mother.
"Are you okay?" she asked, "Thank you so much Sir."
Ryan nodded and turned his attention to the rest of the teeming crowd. Space was at a premium. People pushed and shoved to try and get their place on the evacuation train. People didn't have the energy to make things violent. Food and water had become increasingly rare with time. Some of those desperate people had braved the risks and drunk from contaminated wells. The caravan had brought relief supplies to make sure that people could survive the trip back.
"Anyone who is capable, please give priority to the infirm and children!" the organizing marshal roared over the noise. Some of the more shameless individuals did not heed the warning and selfishly claimed seats for themselves – only to be evicted moments later as a sick or weak dependant was brought to the cart to be loaded and transported away.
"What could have caused this?" Jonell pondered again. He tried his best to stick close to Ryan as they circled the yard.
"Earthquake?" Ryan offered. He knew that it was a stupid suggestion – what kind of earthquake made a bunch of crazy monsters appear out of nowhere?
"Something weird is going on here. But I don't think one person could cause this kind of damage. Maybe you're right – it's just a freak accident."
The smith had bolted extra foot and hand holds along the sides of each cart to ensure that the guards could ride along with the most vulnerable. Everything was moving quickly. The seats were being filled and orders were being handed down to the guards as to where to position themselves. It didn't take long for Ryan and Jonell to be collared and shown to their temporary wards. It was a collection of the young and old, with concerned family members lined up behind them.
One of the older men was being pushed back into place by two others, "I already told you, I'm right as rain! Give my seat to someone who needs it."
"Father, please! Who knows what could happen to you? What if your illness made you frail suddenly?"
He continued to struggle, "I don't feel bloody frail! I haven't felt this spry in years!"
"Just sit down for goodness sake!"
Ryan observed the man with interest. His hair was greying and he was visibly getting on in years. His son was old enough to have a family of his own, all of whom were watching the argument with wide eyes. The Grandfather's skin was squalid and pale, unusually so. Even in the overcast landscape of Pascen his lack of colouration was clear. As the thought crossed his mind, Ryan thought of Ren. He also had oddly pale skin. He almost looked like a corpse; he was expressive enough to show that he was alive though.
The family won out in the end, the father electing to give in and cease making a nuisance for the other people trying to mount the carriage with him. Perhaps Ren had been struck with the same illness as this man? He did like to travel.
An hour passed by before the scramble finally came to an end. Every carriage was filled with a dozen civilians and surrounded by four mercenaries who hung from the sides. There were even more armed guards on either side, while the people who had elected to walk kept to the middle between the front and back of each transport.
"Last call!" the head of the convoy shouted, "Last call for the evacuation!"
A few more people who were taking their time collecting whatever they could carry scurried from between collapsed buildings and merged into the on-foot groups. There were thousands of people in total, whoever was left who were not prudent enough to escape when the first signs of trouble arose. These were the people who believed that the men in charge had the answers. They didn't, and they were the ones who paid the price. They could only hope that where they were going held less misery in store for them.
The gates were pulled aside and the march began. Ryan and Jonell found themselves at the mid-point of the convoy. Ryan's appearance had not earned him the confidence of those who he was put in charge of. A worried murmur spread down the line as the train passed through a recently cleared gap in the bodies of the fallen defenders. Cut down and consumed – and now without a chance for a proper burial. The smell was foul. The parents pinched the noses and covered the eyes of their children to protect them.
Ryan was immediately put on edge. The fog hid many different threats, and now he had seen one of them first hand. Fast, tough, deadly. He had used one of his techniques only because he believed that he himself would be beaten in a straight battle. He couldn't rely on that trump card too much. Each use of the gates exhausted his body more and more, preserving his strength was more important than showing off.
The trip to the border would take two days. The caravan drivers were only going to stop for a nominal amount of rest. Everything was being bet on a mad dash to safety. Ryan could sense that things weren't going to be so simple. Such a large number of people in one place would be sure to attract unwanted attention. The silence held firm. None of them dared speak lest they summon the beasts' fervour.
"This is even worse than the trip here," Jonell whispered back from the front. Ryan felt the skin on his palm and fingers starting to chafe as the carriage rocked back and forth on the challenging terrain. The horses were being kept at a steady trotting pace. They'd last longer and allow the walking groups to keep up. There was a lot of responsibility weighing on both of them now.
Ryan was waiting for the moment to come. That solitary cry of terror or the alarm being raised. He waited and waited, and then waited some more. Mile by agonizing mile they trekked, twisted roots and rocky outcroppings delivering the apocalyptic news. Pascen was done for. The place and the people had been cowed into submission by a force beyond their reckoning, a force beyond their control.
Things were not going to be so easy. The convoy had already run into its first obstacle, a new crack in the ground that had not been there before. It was large enough to swallow the horses whole. That meant they had to go around. The navigators moved in a flurry of activity as they spread out to find an appropriate route to take the convoy next. Ryan gripped the hilt of his sword and took a deep breath.
"Monsters! East side! Monsters, east side!"
Cries of fear rose from the civilians as the soldiers and mercenaries dismounted to face the enemy head on. Jonell and Ryan were no exception. They could only hope that the mercenaries they came with had learned a hard lesson from the casualties that they had already accrued. These beasts weren't to be trifled with. They had to be put down without delay and without hesitation.
Through the fog they charged, maws wide and teeth sharpened. More wolves, a regular sight in Pascen, but now twisted with blackened root. Their fur dripped with ichor, matted with grease and rain. Hungry yellow eyes pierced the mist.
"Don't let them get close! Form two lines!" the sergeant at arms commanded.
Every man had been given an alternating number. Guards assigned the number one were to stay beside the convoy at all costs as the last line of defence. Guards assigned the number two were to sally forth and intercept the enemy. Ryan had intentionally switched his position with Jonell to ensure that he was in the second group. It was time for his sword to sing again. Bolts of energy arced between the conductive blade and his sheath as he drew the full length of the curved blade.
He could already hear one of the other mercenaries commenting on how strange it was. Ren would have strangled him for saying something like that about a cultural artefact from his old home. There was a palpable sense of hesitation from the others – none wanted to be the first man to step in the way of the feral monsters. Where they waited, Ryan acted.
He pushed his way to the front and set his feet into a firm, square stance. The tip of his sword pointed ahead towards his foe. There was no time to hesitate. He kept his eyes locked onto one of the eight attackers and prepared to strike. It ran as fast as its legs could carry it, winding up for a mighty leap into the air. It opened its jaw wide to clamp down on his flesh and drag him away to feast upon.
It never had a chance.
With the practiced grace of a serene warrior, Ryan cut down from above. He did not need to see the beast to know it was defeated. He could feel the slight resistance of bone and flesh as he bisected it from head to tail. He ducked under the flying corpse as it separated in mid-air and landed in a wet, bloody pile behind him. Releasing his breath – he slashed at the air and cleaned the blood from it in one stroke.
"Hey, that was pretty good, right?"
Ryan did not receive the applause he desired, but the look of renewed shock on some of his audience's faces was payment enough. That'd teach them to judge a beach bum by his cover.