"What do you mean you cannot see it?" Barak called up to the soldier in the wall's Southern Tower. High it went, into the mountain's side and out again to look far down the mountain pass. From this peek, any man could manage to spy the outer wall's corresponding Northern Tower. It was an ancient method for the inner and outer wall to communicate. Through three lanterns in their windows they would relay messages to each wall.
"I cannot see it, sir. Nothing is there anymore."
"Do you mean they don't respond with their lights?"
"Sir, you don't understand. I mean there is nothing there. No tower stands anymore. I cannot see it." The panic within the soldier's voice echoed down the company of men, leaving them all in silence.
Mika, standing at the northern end of the wall, where it lifted highest, watched the king. Barak only stood confused at the words. For nearly a full minute, he stood looking up at the tower's top.
"Baldemar!" The king barked out the name, and the leader of the mounted outlanders rode up to the gate. Barak looked down at him. "Take your men now to the aid of the outer wall. Send scouts back once you have arrived to inform us of what exactly is going on out there."
"Yes, my king." Sir Baldemar called back to his men, who mounted their steeds and donned their helmets. The gate was opened, and the company of horsemen rode through it two by two. Their blue and white banners faded away down the mountain pass's gloomy evening.
An hour passed while Mika watched the men form into smaller groups behind the wall. The other captain with the king, an older man called Uriah, directed them and explained to each group their task. Further back on the hill, he positioned the outlanders who were hunters by occupation. He instructed them to cut down nearby trees and construct a barricade to hide behind and shoot arrows from should the wall be overtaken. On the outside of the wall, within the mountain pass, he had other men digging trenches on either side of the road, six feet deep. In them they placed large wooden spikes cut from the nearby forest. The majority of the force he had standing off to the sides behind the wall, kept in reserve. The scribe was impressed by the speed at which the men worked, and how, in spite of an odd feeling Uriah gave him whenever the man happened to look his way, the sellsword knew his way around commanding troops, even ones as green as these.
Barak had his men raise a tent for him near the southern end of the wall, and there he allowed men to approach and inform him of the happenings of the preparations. Anytime a man entered his tent, they were to always first answer if any rider had returned yet. Always, the answer was no. For the first hour, he responded with understanding. It would take them a half an hour of riding to get to the other wall. Then they would need to gather information before even riding back. However, as the hours of waiting increased from one to two, then to three and four, Barak showed clear agitation.
"What on this plane of existence could be stopping them. Ask that damn tower guard what he sees." But the man in the tower could only ever answer the same way.
"I see nothing, my king."
Mika took careful notes in his book about all these things. He had been present for battles before, in his line of work. However, he would have been lying if he had told anyone that he was not unnerved by the strange happenings since the loud boom had been heard. He found himself wondering how a tower could just go away like that? And where were the horsemen? Two hundred men and not a single rider had managed to return?
The night came on, sooner than expected thanks to the heavy clouds above. Torches were lit along the wall and the valley before it grew dark. Men along it looked out beyond the battlements, eyes wide to spot anything in the fading distance. The scribe looked among their ranks for his friend. It had been hours since Christopher had been called away to join the other soldiers, and he had not been able to spot him ever since. He wished to be by his side during this time. Or rather that Christopher was by his side. Even though he had only known the man a very short time, his absence during these hours of unease left him feeling wholly alone in the world. He sat on the wall's high end, silent.
Then there came a sound. It was faint, and at first he thought it might have been rain pattering upon the stone. But as he looked about and above, no water came. The sound, however, did not subside. Instead it grew. Slowly, minute by minute it became ever so slightly more perceptible. However, Mika could not perceive what it might be. He looked to the other men, but none of them looked as though they heard what he did. That was when the man on the tower called down to the garrison.
"Rider! There is a rider coming!"
Men moved quickly to open the gates, and all free eyes looked beyond the wall. It was too dark to be sure, but many of them thought they could make out a shadow swiftly approaching. The sound of hooves on stone left little doubt. Men were sent to Barak's tent, and moments later, he came forth. The king walked swiftly to the gate, commanding the soldiers to hurry up and open it. Once it was fully wide, a small company of men holding spears and torches went with the king beyond its archway to greet the rider.
Mika looked down from the wall, his breath coming in anxious gasps. Something felt wrong to him. The horse, while he heard it, did not ride with any urgency. Instead, it came at an even pace, like someone out for a pleasure ride. As the minutes passed, he noticed the king voiced similar concerns to the men about him. And still, Mika heard the distant sounds.
After nearly fifteen minutes, the rider approached the men at the gate, but did not ride far into the torchlight. Instead he chose to remain upon the fire's edge. All eyes from the wall watched him with terror. This was not one of the two hundred riders sent out with Sir Baldemar. He was almost not a man at all, as Mika saw him. He sat nearly naked upon his horse. Only a small cloth over his groin acted as any clothing. On his back, fastened with a cheap rope, was some type of strangely made sword that the scribe struggled to make out. The horse under him was totally black, and wore no saddle or reins.
But all of these things mattered not to the host of soldiers watching from the wall. It was the man. The man himself filled them with a childlike fear and wonder. To say his body was thin would be to say the ocean had some water within it. He looked like he might be a skeleton, had it not been clear that a lean muscle beneath his stark white skin flexed about as he moved on the animal. His eyes sunk so far back that they were nearly gone from him, and would have been unviewable had it not been for their amber glow. His bald head turned this way and that as he looked about at each man gazing down at him. They were all silent with terror. Even Barak, though he showed no fear, seemed at a loss for words at the strange figure before him. But he took a step back once the eyes halted upon him.
"Are you their king?" The voice did not sound anything like how Mika would have expected it. He imagined anything that looked like this man before them would sound strained or sickly. This man spoke with a booming commanding tone. His voice was deep and strong. And, upon hearing it, every man present moved back. Barak nodded.
"I am."
"Good. The man at the other wall said I would find you here." The man on the black horse sat up tall and proud. "My name is Enoch. Though there are many titles others have given me. I am here to pass through your lands." He held a hand out and pointed a long bony finger beyond them. "Now open your gates for us."
"And why would I open my gates to you, pale man?" The rider lowered his hand, and looked about the wall again. Ignoring Barak's question, he spoke to the soldiers.
"Here me now, my children." He stretched both arms out wide. "I am not without my mercies. This very night, these walls will come down, and all behind them still resisting shall be slain." He paused and seemed to be looking as though he could see over the wall to those outlanders behind it. "There are those of you here that know this to be true. But understand, I offer you this hand of truth. Follow me. Throw down your little spears. Cast aside your great walls and banners. Take up the long walk with my people. There, I will guide you to a great and wondrous truth." He finished and looked about again.
After a few moments, Barak started cursing the man and telling him that he would kill him personally, messenger or not. Then there came another sound. Mika looked to the other side of the wall at the outlanders far back. His heart pounded in his chest when he saw that nearly half of them had thrown down their weapons and were walking towards the gate. They nearly made it before Uriah and a hundred Northguard soldiers blocked their path and threatened to kill them there if they tried to go any further. They marched the outlanders back to their positions and posted twenty more men at the gate, ordering that any deserters would be shot on site. Enoch had seen and heard this all through the gate. He smiled down at Barak.
"It would seem your followers are not as loyal as mine."
"Ha! You look rather solitary to me, pale man."
"Do I?" Enoch suddenly raised his right hand commandingly. Mika noticed the sound he had been hearing grow louder by the minute suddenly stopped all at once. It was at this moment that all of the other details of the stories the outlanders had told him came back to his mind. He felt the sudden urge to shout down to Barak to come back within the gates, but then Enoch did something strange. With his right hand still up in the sky, he turned his horse sideways and lifted his left arm to point out into the darkness of the valley. Then he spoke.
"Atla freos." The words reverberated through the mountain pass like a whirlwind of sound and every man felt his voice catch in his throat at what they saw. Down, at the other end of the valley, torches ignited. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands they burned. Each one held by a person. It seemed to Mika almost like a raging river of flame breaking out between the mountains. Then, brought up by the distant multitude, a chant went up.
"Fara Enoch." Over and over the words repeated, and Enoch turned his horse back to Barak with a smile on his face.
"Do you hear them, little king? My followers are wonderful, aren't they?" Barak felt his breathing increase as Enoch leaned towards him. "Now let us see whose followers are more loyal. Yours or mine." With that, the pale man turned his horse about, and rode back the mass of torch bearers. Even if Barak had his wits about him to give the order, no soldier would have had the nerve to fire an arrow at the rider.
Barak marched back within the gates and the great doors were closed. Uriah set himself about ordering the men and preparing them for the first assault as it became clear that the gathering beyond the gate was marching against them once more.
Mika felt the wind from the valley blow against his face, and with it the heat of the many torches. His mouth went dry and he dropped his writing tools. Among hundreds of men, he had never felt so alone in his life. Then he looked back to the outlanders who had been forced to serve in the wall's defenses, and his heart broke for them. He knew they were all going to die this very night.