The next couple of hours were entirely to uncomfortable to my liking. We had went along with the plan, framed Falco for a death that didn't happen, which spread enough fear and doubt to trigger an emergency evacuation. Sadly the local nobles, with exception of one widowed husband and his handicapped son, had actively interfered in the planning and so it was a horrifying surprise on the next morning that the people noticed all the nobles missing. Within hours the truth had come to light, or at least the version that we came up with. The Nobles had actively prevented our quick evacuation to slow down the enemy and guide their attention to the largest number of people. But nevermind that. They would get what they deserved in due time. Instead it was time to evacuate as quickly as possible, especially now that I began to feel the creeping presence of demonic kin. And what a concept that was to wrap my brain around. Kin. I knew my nightmares were getting worse and changing me drastically from what the original would have been like but the more time passed the more obvious the direction became. I wasn't just being prepared for the imminent future of Percy Jackson, not even the "Heros of Olympus" -future but something on a drastically larger scale. Even the Rivers Child was almost a god in its own right and so we're many others of my more powerful versions. But even when considering all of that, never in my mind would I have acknowledged any of these demons as "kin". They were far to cruel for only cruelties sake. If they did have a reason like revenge or otherwise, maybe I'd be able to sympathise, but these demons evidently lacked the most common of emotions. They killed and tortured for only the sake of suffering and that was the reason why I did not like the feeling of "kin" approaching from the South East. What confused me more was however a second wave moving further east, one that was closing in rapidly. It wasn't supposed to be there as in the original timeline, at this point, only one demon army was supposed to hunt down the evacuation, not two.
The crowd turned into a long winding line of refugees as it left the gates of Caer Dour behind. Every step was powered by the desire to out run death and yet the line moved slow but steady. Falco and his friends were traveling somewhere in the middle of the line. His friend Malaki had made room on his horse for a small boy. He had passed out a few hours into the unforgiving march of the procession. The mother had been very grateful for him and was now walking next to the horse, guiding its reigns.
The first day passed quickly on the road. Many people were evidentally dissatisfied with Falcos "actions" though all that had been up on the mountain knew it to be a fabrication so he had our support. Meanwhile, Ares and I had focused our magic into observing and sensing the enemy movement behind us in an attempt to predict their future path and where best to cut them off. Originally the plan would have been to simply wait until the demon army cornered us and then fight with tooth and nail. But now that there was a second army, the chances of survival, if we were to attempt the same plan as before, would be abysmal. Instead Ares and I had decided to strike and possibly annihilate one of the enemy armies if they were to separate. And given that I had Onyx and three Nemean Lionesses watching the neightboring vallys, we would be informed of any unknown forces suddenly interfering in our plans. The procession wasn't aware and we planned to sneak away quickly once the opportuinity presented itself.
From there on, we would wander into the neightboring valley and prepare a massive trap for them. And with a little bit of help from my alchemy and ritual knowledge, we would be making armor, weapons and enhancements out of the trapped enemies for both us and our dragons. But all of that depended soley on the demon armies splitting up and possibly attempting to overtake us.
If they didn't, Ares and I would be forced to stay behind, prepare the same trap and hope we can trap an entire armies worth of fallen before the demons detect the magic gathering in the air and soil below their feet.
On the third day after departure, the first scouts had been sent out. They were to bring a single message to the large town north, but I knew they would not survive and the message would only be discovered in time by accident. I could not allow such a small thing to control the fate of everyone else. So I rode forward once the riders had been chosen and handed each one a small trinket, something that burned in my hand but tested gently in their pockets before they ever learned what it truly did.
The horses I could not protect, sadly. I had forgotten to prepare something for them and carving runes into the leather of their saddles would likely weaken it, therefore making it easy for the riders to be unsaddled. It was a risk I was unwilling to take as I would be playing with their lives, or worse than I already did. I knew what I did would not help them in the long run, that war would still come for them, but I did not want to simply standby and watch as they died.
And so, on the morning of the third day, the riders were sent out on the quickest and most nimble horsesthe refugees had with them. None of us, not even the riders themselves, expected to come back. About two hours after, a cold shiver ran down my spine as the sinister aura of a nearby fallen flared. Twenty minutes later, some of our resident hunters and archers spottet a dark angle, a twisted abomination of dark, rotting flesh, black claws and malformed arms and legs. It had once been a man, maybe a proud soldier of a kingdom long lost under the siege of demonic forces or maybe a child that had suffered and been turned. The fallen were not alive but instead most were much closer to what modernity had dubbed a "Zombie" except much more resistant, cohesive and consious. Most that had known to fight before their fall still did. The only mercy the fates had given us, was that they were still mortal. Fatal wounds that severed limbs turned those unresponsive. Cut throats did not bleed but they would soon down the enemy regardless. Broken bones and cut of heads were usually the better option though.
The dark angel disappeared into the horizon quickly and seemingly followed the riders we sent. I did not doubt it to be any other than the very one that had originally killed all of them.
Later that very day, 50 able people were sent back to scout how far away the enemy was. Everyone that had been on that mountain knew how that would end. Ares and I were asked to "help out" and we followed those 50 people until we were out of sight. Once gone, I opened a small vial I hid in my jacket. The blue mist quickly fell to the floor and the horses began to slow. The men grew restless the slower the horses got, until finally they had to get off them, making the nearly imperceptible mist slowly enclose their feet.
The last thing those riders saw were two masked figures in unfamiliar clothes slowly drag them toward a dark patch in the grass.
"So? Thats 50 people safe. Now what?"
My gaze wandered toward the mountain on our right side, in the valley behind it.
"Let's first get these guys into the suitcase. We can worry about them later."
"And what then? Will we ignore the army right next to us?"
"No, but these guys are our priority right now. We can handle that army later."