A bit farther on the object, which had circled around him from the front to the rear and back around again, emerged from behind a small scrub, the only cover it could find.
It was round and simple, no bigger than Nixon’s hand. Its shell was an onyx black and seemed to absorb light as it moved. Anyone with less attuned senses would not have seen it, and that was likely on purpose. Scout and inform. A simple device. A common one through all ages, be it plane, machine, or even bird.
Nixon stopped, making no more illusions about his awareness. With its emergence, it was clear that it was now ready to be found. Thus, he could deduce several things from this. It had either collected all it needed to know, it had malfunctioned in some way, or it was preparing to communicate in some fashion knowing it had been found out.
Discretion being the better form of valor, Nixon smiled, bending and bowing the formal greeting of his people. “Greetings t’ ye’, little one. T’ wha' do I owe the pleasure this night?”
The clicking increased instantly, getting louder and softer in random waves. It moved higher, possibly to be beyond Nix and his none-too-hidden sword.
A blue light came from the bottom of the object, its clicking intensifying as the light grew brighter. Nixon suspected he'd either triggered something or someone else had done it for him. Either way, any fool could see it was building to something.
Nixon couldn't be sure that this item wasn't the source of the explosions. He had no idea how advanced the people who'd sent this thing were. He drew his sword, feeling the power build from his hand and up to his arm. A welcome feeling he was sure he'd never be tired of, one of confidence and familiarity.
He stepped back, searching the night for any other of this scout’s kind. Confident there were none, he attempted to continue the discreet approach.
“Well now wee one, what's all this?” No response, just blue light and clicking. “Well, if we 'ave no further business, I'll continue on my way. G’day.” He bowed and began to walk once more.
A blue light hit his face almost immediately, bright and blinding. It dazed and dazzled him for a moment, causing him to step aside. Rare was the light that could affect him like that. His eyes could see in the darkest darks and the most blinding lights.
The light no longer in his face, he looked again at the object and paused to watch it as it clicked. The blue light still glowed from its base, yet did not follow him. He looked about, searching to see if it was illuminating something else. He found it: a pinprick of light in the middle of the road. A laser. He should have known. Those damned things never seemed to go away, and damned if they didn't disrupt Nixon’s vision in any age.
Then the clicking stopped. The light still glowed brightly, marking its spot on the ground, but the night fell perfectly quiet. Not even a wind blew.
The object was seemingly happy with its information. Nixon watched as it flew away, and eventually it was gone, back into the night it came from. The light remained planted firmly in the road. Somewhere, getting higher above, it was still there shining it down.
Nixon had been called upon many times in his life to chase the unbalanced Power and the misfortune it brought about. He'd seen man revert from one phase of life to another. From simple and nomadic to huge and powerful. He'd seen all ages and all peoples from the eyes of an outsider with no real sense of time. He remembered all these things very well. The fortunes they'd brought and the treasures they'd destroyed.
Essentially, Nixon had been around a long time and seen much. Because of that, Nixon knew a targeting laser for what it was.
He grinned slightly, finding the coming storm very amusing. Soon, he began to laugh, getting louder and louder as he heard his fate falling faster toward him.
By the time the bomb hit, he was nearly in hysterics.
Stupid people. You can't kill a phoenix with fire.
Then the pain began, and his laughter turned to screams.
-----------------------
Not much farther ahead, Johan was slogging across the intensely rough terrain when the explosion lit up the sky behind him.
His shadow stretched out before him as the pillar of light turned night into day. Terrified, Johan knew enough to brace himself, and he fell quickly to the ground. His mammoth pack tumbled down over his head as he did so.
Then the shockwave hit.
It roared over his head like dragon’s breath. Fast and hot. He was far enough away that the air had cooled it greatly from the point of impact, but it was still searing and difficult to breathe in.
The wind toppled Johan’s pack, tearing it from his back, straps and all. Luckily, he had long since put his prized dagger on his person.
There was no use screaming or moving. Both would have been fruitless. The noise was ear-shattering, and any attempt to shift one way or another would have meant being carried away to wherever ill wind blows. For the moment he just crouched there, head down, waiting for the end. He clutched his head, shielding his ears from the noise, eyes clenched tight against the dust and debris. Then with great difficulty, he peeked between his eyelids, trying to make sense of whatever he could see, desperately trying to gauge the distance to the epicenter of the blast.
The winds and noise died out slowly, seeming to take
