Arthur got up from the bench and looked outside where the night watchers were ringing the alarm.
Cursing, he opened a hidden compartment beneath the bench, pulling out a short straight saber.
Something bad must have happened!
Was Boro alright?
Speaking of him, where was he? He wasn't lying on his bench, the carriage was empty! Terrible, this was terrible.
Muttering another curse, Arthur jumped out of the carriage and looked around.
He saw no signs of Boro or the aftermath of his usual antics. Not a good sign. Usually, chaos followed wherever Boro set foot.
Could he be the culprit behind this nightly chaos?
It was unlikely, yet it seemed plausible to him.
But no, it didn't matter for now.
He had to find him first or things could take a turn for the worse.
A lone mercenary ran past him, wrapping himself in his armor as he sped across the campsite.
"What the heavens is going on?" Arthur shouted after him, hoping to learn more about the crisis at hand.
"I'm not sure, somebody yelled something about bandits earlier!" The mercenary shouted without turning back.
Bandits?
Arthur clasped the necklace hanging beneath his shirt. It was still there, good. The pouch in which he stored his coins was also still hanging from his belt.
Now the only one missing was his friend.
Silently praying he would find Boro before the bandits did, he continued to search for him.
He looked underneath the other carriages, sneaking a peek into some of them from time to time, and asked anyone who ran past him if they had seen Boro.
"Excuse me, sir, have you seen a boy around my age somewhere? He has golden eyes and is a little shorter than I am. Oh, and he normally wears this horrible-looking, ragged coat." He asked an archer who was heading in the direction of the sounding bells.
He stopped for a short moment, recognition flashing through his eyes. "I think I may have seen someone fitting that description." He said, pointing in the direction opposite to the bells. "I think he ran that way."
"Thank you very much, sir, I won't bother you any longer," Arthur replied, visibly relieved.
"No problem lad." The archer said, giving him a short nod.
Following the directions he had received, Arthur started running, scanning his surroundings for any hints that could lead him to his friend.
A moment later, there was an explosion in the distance behind him.
Arthur paused.
What a convenient time for that to happen. Had he not just heard Boro was headed in the opposite direction, he would have assumed Boro may have been responsible for that explosion.
Shaking his head, Arthur continued on his way.
After a few minutes, he noticed a body lying on the ground. A small pool of blood was slowly expanding around it.
"Curses! Am I too late?"
He stopped to inspect the body, clenching his fist and hoping for the best.
It was still warm but there was no pulse.
His eyes were open, portraying anger, shock, and sadness. Was this the expression of betrayal?
There was a deep gash in his chest, blood still flowing from it slowly.
"Rest in peace. I'm sure somebody will avenge you." Arthur whispered as he closed the dead man's eyes and he put a silver coin in one of his hands so he would be able to pay for the ferry in the afterlife.
Sending a short prayer to the Gods, he continued on his way.
Just what was he getting himself into?
Maybe he should simply turn around and go the other way.
But no he couldn't let go of Boro's trail.
He couldn't let that incident repeat itself.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he continued running.
'Come on, he's got to be here somewhere!'
He stopped.
Strange noises were coming from behind one of the carriages to his left.
There were strained whispers and muffled screams. Was this any of his business?
One peek couldn't hurt, right?
He saw a small group of armored and masked men standing around the body of a young man.
He was gagged with a piece of dirty cloth and straining to free himself from one of the men who was tying his arms behind his back.
He had golden eyes, and even in this situation, he radiated a sense of dignity and confidence. For a moment, Arthur mistook him for his friend, but on second glance, he was too tall and his hair color didn't match.
'And I thought Boro was attracting trouble all the time. Could I have been the problem all this time?' Arthur cursed silently.
But this was none of his business. Time to get the hell out of here!
The moment that thought came to his mind, his eyes locked with the boy on the ground, his eyes were pleading and filled with fear.
'Nope, absolutely not.' Arthur thought.
But in that moment, one of the masked men followed the boy's gaze and noticed Arthur.
'Gods why?' Arthur felt like crying. Why was he always caught up in these things?
'Maybe we can talk this out.' He thought, trying to stay optimistic.
In that moment the masked man drew a dagger and threw it at Arthur.
'Guess not.' He sighed, dodging the dagger and drawing his saber.
*****
Borous sat beneath a great tree somewhere in the depths of the forest. His hands covered his ears, and rivers of tears streamed from his eyes.
They were filled with fear and pain.
"No, not the bells! I should never have looked. Why did I gaze upon it? Why must I remember now? My sorrow! The pain!" He screamed and wailed. His body was trembling violently from waves of pain.
Sharp claws were slowly extending from the tips of his fingers, digging into his head and dousing himself in a rain of blood.
His silhouette was turning blurry and his shadow was flickering strangely, as if something were trying to break free of its confines.
Fragmented memories that didn't feel like they belonged poured and flooded into his mind.
Visions poured over him, there was a barren land, filled with nothing but black sand.
In the distance, numerous titanic bells made from dark iron hung from the dark sky and there was a terrible premonition lying in the air.
Something horrible was about to conspire in these lands.
Luckily, the bells sounding in the distance suddenly quietened down, and the pressure on his mind lessened, and the visions faded.
Borous turned over and emptied the contents of his churning stomach onto the ground.
He had a terrible feeling that if he had had to endure the vision for just a moment longer, something far more harrowing than anything he had ever experienced would have happened to him.
Drawing in ragged deep breaths, he lay down and closed his eyes.
His head hurt.
Why did these things keep happening to him?
Where did those visions come from?
What did they mean?
Slowly his mind was drifting into a deep slumber, but suddenly his head jerked up.
His friend was in danger.