The Warden | A For Honor Fanfiction

The Brink

It was already the first light of day before I realized I'd marched through the night. The soft orange hues from above were dull and barely noticeable through the tree lines. Just how long had I been moving? I didn't feel like I'd been walking that long, yet here was a new day, with not a minute of rest before. Slowly, my senses returned to me as I realized what had happened. The path I was taking was much more direct than the one I had taken with Deborah and Stone, I didn't much care if Blackstone found me after all. Blood would be spilt regardless, what did it matter if it was now or later?

It was still immensely cold, though not to an unbearable standard. Nor was the winding, familiar looking path that made me feel like I was marching into infinity feel unbearable. I had faced that many times, I knew that a destination lay beyond it. Instead, what drove a spike into my mind was the silence. Save for an occasional cracking branch or squealing rodent, there was no sound in this forest, and it was maddening. Strange, I thought. I had only traveled with companions for a little more than a week, and that had been enough to vilify the absence of sound.

"It's better this way... I'm moving faster." I tried to tell myself. Indeed, my pace had been much quicker since I had set off. Even traveling alone with Deborah, my traveling had slowed. With less mouths to feed and less souls to worry for, I was faster, could march longer, and could press on even in the face of exhaustion. How much longer would this trek have taken with my companions? Twice as long, considering Deborah's injury? No, it was better this way, it had to be.

The path ahead still seemed to go on forever, and my legs began to burn with aches and pain. I suddenly felt tired, very tired. The long trip had begun to catch up to me, and I again wondered just how long I had been going. But I couldn't rest, Blackstone was days ahead of me, and even at their slower pace, I couldn't afford to waste time. Still, my body ached, crying out for respite as my breathing grew heavy. Only worsening the matter was hunger, wracking my ears with a deep, long rumble every couple of steps I took. Perhaps if I... no, no I could not rest, I could not stop.

With sheer will, I pushed on, practically dragging my feet behind me as I marched. My breathing gave way to dry, ragged coughs that nearly caused me to stumble. How long had I gone without drinking, I realized? Just how deep of a stupor had I been in to ignore thirst? I could at least let myself drink, my water skin had to have something left, and I didn't need to stop for it. Yes, the drink was fine, just fine. I gasped and reached down for the water skin, fumbling a bit as I turned my head to look for it.

The soft fabric met my touch easily enough, and I lifted my helmet just enough to fit the spout beneath, tipping my head back to drink. The water was cool, but not entirely cold, though I hardly cared at the moment. When I had finished, I lowered my head and replaced my helmet, and nearly froze in place. Where before I had seen only open roads and forestland, I now noticed a body slumped on one of the trees. The body was fresh, not enough time had passed even for the color to fade from his skin. Brown hair and a beard of matching color seemed as vibrant as any living man, this man had died recently, someone was nearby.

My breathing seemed to slow on its own as I drew my sword and peered into the trees surrounding me. The faint light piercing through the thicket did not reveal a soul, only the faded browns and whites of dead wood and pure snow. Even blood seemed absent, not a trail in sight. This struck me as particularly concerning, how could such a fresh body not leave a blood trail? Had he simply died from the cold? He certainly didn't look like a man who'd frozen to death... I tried not to think about it and slowly made my way forward, keeping a close eye on my surroundings.

Only emptiness met my gaze, not even a squirrel or a bird passing by. For that matter, I couldn't seem to hear anything either. Even my armor had fallen silent, its plates and chain signifying not the slightest of movement. It was as if all sound had simply ceased, or worse, I had simply become incapable of hearing it. But so suddenly, with no warning? No, there had to be some explanation for this, a plot from devious brigands or rogue knights, it was the only thing that made any sense. But how had they done it?