In the silent aftermath of the horse's shrill cry, the seconds stretched out like taffy, the rustle of leaves and the soft sigh of the wind the only sounds to fill the void. Just when it seemed that the danger had passed, the doors of the nearby houses began to creak open, and a sea of stoic faces emerged from within, each armed with heavy wooden cudgels.
They approached in unison, their footsteps silent as the grave, forming a tightening ring around the intruders. Their eyes were cold and hard, their intent clear—they would not allow these strangers to tread any further into their land.
As the circle of armed citizens closed in, Daniil's hand twitched at his side, his fingers itching for the cold steel of his sword. "Should we fight them, Sir Hermes?" he whispered, glancing to the young man at his side for direction.
The three other men huddled close, their muscles tensed and their legs trembling with fear. The situation was rapidly spinning out of control.
Hermes' gaze darted between the menacing circle of armed citizens and Daniil, his expression taut with concern. "Don't be a fool," he murmured, his voice low but steady. "Surrender is our only option."
With a grimace of resignation, Daniil let the sword fall from his fingers, the sound of it clattering to the ground loud in the tense silence.
The other three men, sensing the futility of resistance, quickly followed suit, their weapons and tools clattering to the ground alongside Daniil's sword. The sound of their surrender was deafening in the tense air, and the circle of armed citizens shifted, closing in on them even further.
Hermes stared straight ahead, his face a mask of calm determination, even as the men at his side trembled in fear. "We're here in peace," he announced, his voice carrying across the gathering. "We're not your enemies. We need your help."
An old woman, her face weathered by years and her gray hair bound in a tight bun, stepped forward from the crowd, her cudgel pointed at Hermes and his group. "Away from the weapons," she commanded in a voice that belied her age. Without hesitation, Hermes and his men shuffled back, creating a clear path for the armed men to retrieve the dropped weapons.
Daniil, his brow furrowed and his jaw set, hesitated for a moment before obeying Hermes' silent command, stepping away from the weapons and joining the others.
As the armed men bound the intruders' hands behind their backs with rough rope, Daniil felt the urge to resist, his muscles tensing in defiance. But he knew better than to challenge Hermes.
"Collaborators?" the old woman asked, her voice as sharp as her accusing gaze.
The intruders glanced at one another, their faces contorting with confusion. What was she talking about?
After a moment of tense silence, Hermes realized he needed to answer, and quickly. "Yes," he replied, his voice as flat and steady as he could manage.
The instant the word left his lips, the villagers surged forward, their cudgels raised and ready to strike. A cacophony of enraged shouts and muttered curses filled the air, drowning out any attempt at reasoning.
Hermes, sensing the imminent danger, threw up his hands and bellowed, "No, no, no! We're not collaborators!"
At his shout, the old woman, her face still stoic and inscrutable, gestured for the villagers to halt. They obeyed, the throng falling silent as they awaited her judgment.
"Why are you trespassing on our land?" the old woman asked, her voice firm and unwavering.
"We're refugees from the South," Hermes answered, trying to keep his voice steady. "We're trying to escape the demons that have taken control allover the region ."
Before Hermes could continue, one of his men dropped to his knees, his voice trembling with desperation. "Please! My son, my wife, they're still out there, stranded in the forest!" the man cried out, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I beg of you, please, help them! I can't lose them!"
The old woman listened intently to the man's plea, her gaze fixed on him as she tried to assess the honesty of his words, her expression unreadable. Finally, she turned back to Hermes, her cudgel still pointed in his direction. "And why should I believe you aren't collaborating with the demons?" she asked, her voice edged with suspicion.
"I can take you where the rest of my people are," Hermes offered, hoping to gain the old woman's trust.
But the old woman shook her head. "No. Your eyes can't be trusted." She gestured to two burly men, who stepped forward and seized the man who had cried out earlier. "Let this one take you there."
"Yes, I know the way," the man said, standing up quickly. With the two guards at his side, their cudgels at the ready, he led them away from the village.
Left behind, Hermes, Daniil, and the remaining two men were marched into a barn by six men, who tied them up inside.
"You'll stay here until they come back," growled one of the men as he secured Hermes to the wall.
The door slammed shut, leaving the prisoners in darkness, save for a few slivers of light filtering through the gaps in the barn's walls. The air was thick with the smell of hay and musty dust, and the soft scuttling of rodents echoed through the silence.
"Well, we're in quite a pickle now, aren't we?" Daniil muttered under his breath, testing the knots that bound his hands.
***
The man who had pleaded for help earlier was now guiding the two guards deeper into the forest, their cudgels at the ready in case he made any sudden moves. An uneasy silence hung in the air as the trio wove their way through the thicket, their boots crunching on the carpet of fallen leaves and twigs that carpeted the forest floor. After traveling for some time, they would pause periodically to scan their surroundings, vigilant for any sign of the demons or potential danger.
As the trio ventured deeper into the woods, the light filtering through the trees began to soften, casting a warm, golden glow across the forest floor. The air was cooling, heralding the imminent arrival of nightfall, but the day was not yet done.
As they drew closer to the spot where the group was sitting, the man quickened his steps, his hands brushing aside the underbrush to clear the way. The two guards followed closely behind, their cudgels raised in anticipation.
When they arrived, the man was stunned to find it empty. A chill ran down his spine as he scanned the area, disbelief and fear mingling within him.
The man's eyes fell upon the headless body of the person that Daniil had slain, the pool of blood surrounding it. He opened his mouth to question the absence of the group, but before he could speak, the nearby bushes began to rustle and crackle.
Startled, the man spun around, his gaze sweeping across the underbrush as the two guards flanked him, cudgels poised.
Suddenly, Bennett, Hermes' assistant who had been left in charge of the group, emerged from the bushes, followed closely by the rest of the group. Their eyes were wide with fear and confusion, glancing nervously between the two guards.
"We thought you were demons," Bennett stammered, his voice trembling. The group shifted uneasily, glancing around for a sign of attack. But the two guards remained silent, their cudgels still raised as they studied the situation with suspicious eyes.
Before anyone could react, one of the guards lashed out with his cudgel, its polished wood glinting in the fading light. The weapon connected with a sickening thud, sending Bennett reeling backward with a cry of pain. His knees buckled beneath him as the shock of the blow washed over his body, his vision blurring and his thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.
"Don't even think of resisting," the guard hissed, his cudgel still pointed menacingly at the group. "If you want to survive this, you will do exactly as we say."
The other guard shoved the man that was guiding them into the group with a grunt of disdain, then barked out an order. "Follow me."
As the group shuffled forward in fearful compliance, their movements were sluggish and unsteady, the weight of exhaustion and uncertainty bearing down on them like a leaden shroud. They moved through the undergrowth in silence, their footsteps muted by the thick blanket of leaves and twigs, their eyes darting nervously from side to side in search of any sign of danger.
At the back, the remaining guard followed while dragging Bennett's unconscious body through the dense forest, his movements hindered by the weight of the man's limp form.