Engines whined, and folmes and other mixed breeds snorted past as they were strapped together in teams, pulling yet more trailers and carts at full gallop.
Aryu wondered what could get this many people moving so fast and so far from home. They were local villagers; he recognized their clothes and styles as such. Lightweight tops, wrapped skirts, and light pants marked them as people from inland, not even as far south as the ocean. People very much like those of Tan Torna Qu-ay. He looked as far down the line as he could, searching for an end to the madness. He was sure by this point that the Rider Stroan had something very important to tell them.
A cart full of women and small children, many of whom were crying loud enough to be heard even over the racket of hooves and whining engines, passed them by. The mothers seemed not to notice the shouting and tears, almost as if they'd given up trying to console their little ones long before they reached this point. Some of the calmer kids looked at them, pointing, fear in their eyes as they held their mothers. Exhaustion and fear were set deep into every face they saw. More than one person had their eyes glued to what lay behind them, something beyond the scores of trailing carts and tired faces.
Johan was shouting at Aryu, trying to pry his eyes off the scene, waving him over as he did so. “Any thoughts?” he shouted to him, confusion just as prevalent on his face as Aryu assumed it was on his own.
“It looks like they were chased away. They’re just staring off behind them, looking for something.” Johan watched some carts pass, noting Aryu's words as true. His eyes tried to follow theirs, but all he could see was chaos in a straight line. “What could bring the Inja Army so far east and force this many people to run so far?” Aryu hoped Johan of all people would have an answer.
“Nothing, my friend. Not one thing. The Westlanders and the Inja Army are far too entrenched to have it move this far, and there's only water to the south. Whatever it is, it isn't Westlanders.”
Fate has a fantastic sense of timing, as shortly thereafter, four large carts pulled by giant elephants roared past, each teeming with large, dark-skinned people. They stood in shock, never having seen such beasts before, and the people they carried and pulled were equally strange: Westlanders. It wasn't uncommon to see some from time to time, but never so many.
The end came into sight and the men pulled closer to Rider Stroan, eyes full of impatient expectation. Stroan only regarded them with a frown. Whatever he had to say was weighing heavily on his mind.
The last few carts went past. An old woman screamed hysterically on the back of one, legs dangling like a small child as she shouted, “There is no peace here! Save your souls! Your lives are already lost!” She looked right at the three as she shouted. “Lost! Lost to the hell that brought them!”
Her ragged voice died away, but her words echoed in the din thereafter.
The men looked to Stroan, and Stroan knew it was time. He dismounted and approached them. It wasn't going to be easy for them to hear. He had his orders, given to him by his captain. He was to break off from the caravan shortly anyway to spread word to more villages along the mountains. He may as well start here with these two. As proven men, they deserved no less. The cadet took a deep breath before beginning.
“Two weeks ago a fleet of ships appeared on the ocean horizon, spread out farther than eyes could see. Large ships, of a style and seaworthiness we didn’t recognize.
“We were locked in battle on Tiet borders. We were in the southernmost regions of Inja, directly on the ocean. Without warning the Tiet army we were fighting was obliterated with one massive explosion. It was much more powerful than any weapon we possessed, and there didn't seem to be anything they had that would malfunction. Destruction simply rained on them from the heavens.
“In surveying the damage, our troops were shocked and sickened by the complete annihilation of the Westlanders in one step, yet still had no answer for it. Then explosions hit the entire coastline, indiscriminate of target. Both Tiet and Inja armies were targeted without warning or remorse, and thousands died before we had any thought as to why.
The young cadet shuffled a bit in his own skin, growing more uncomfortable.
“It had been the ships out on the horizon, and they were barely visible to our eyes.”
“How?” Johan asked immediately. “No bomb or other weapon can reach farther than the eye can see. Not without the powers of the Old.”
Stroan looked at him, saying nothing while his eyes revealed all. Johan, though still lost in thought, urged Stroan to continue.
“Not only were they the powers of Old, these vessels brought with them the people of the Old themselves.” Rider Stroan began to fidget, clearly upsetting himself by telling them this news. Something was scaring him with every word. “Explosions began lighting up the coast in each direction, forcing both armies into full retreat. They kept coming, falling deeper and deeper inland and chasing the retreating men with no thought to decorum or valor.”
The two listened, trying to envision the horror and destruction. No army they knew of would dare attack the enemy in full retreat. There was no honor or glory.
“They landed in the destruction they caused three days after appearing, their assaults clearly doing nothing more than clearing a path for their arrival. We attempted skirmish after
