Sleep did not come naturally to the three men, but rather it came in fits and bursts, periods in time in which the ground beneath their cart was not as arduous and the fear and dread which clung to each of them eased its grip. It always came back to them though, the sense that each of their lives was already forfeit, and this journey was just to reach that destination. They knew this the moment they were conscripted into a war unending, a war between nations which had finally reached each of their quaint villages and towns.

   Elias found refuge from reality the least of the three men, always shifting uncomfortably, never able to find relief. For anyone who lay eyes on this gaunt individual, they would see grief and loss on his features. And for those whose could see it, there was also grim determination in those deep-set eyes, almost reflecting the weight of his decisions back to the onlooker. Dirt and Grim covered him as it did all the men, and above his tattered clothes was a harness which attached to something unknown on his back, covered with a thick dark green shawl. The other two almost incurred Elias’s wrath when they enquired about this hidden object, and was in part the reason why he could not find sleep.

   But as with all men, exhaustion took over him, and he withdrew into his nightmares, which were exclusively designed to torment Elias on his mistakes, his loss and teased him with what could have been. In the dream he was having, a silhouette of a small child stood in front of him, outside a familiar house which currently was ablaze. Elias, despite having this dream many a time pulled his dagger from its sheath and charged. His feet felt like they were weighed in tar, but step by step he got closer to the silhouette. “Aric!” he screamed, but the boy, his son did not hear him. A figure stepped out from the blazing building, crouching to fit through the doorway, long gangly arms finding purchase on the frame to escape. When it did it stood to its full height which was half the height of the building, it’s mangled face manically grinning as it turned its attention to his son. A long sharp tongue licked across its thin lips, and it’s bulging eyes seemed to reflect the burning building, a hunger in those eyes Elias knew all too well. It took a stride forward, and Elias vaulted the fence somehow. Its gangly arm shot out and grabbed Aric, the scream tore through Elias’s heart like it was the first time he had heard this. He tried to shout his son’s name, but he failed, still driving forward as the creature lifted the child to its face as if to inspect him. He was nearly up the path when the creature opened its mouth, and a darkness escaped it, looking like a swarm of flies which burrowed into his son. It took seconds, but they felt like a lifetime to Elias. The lifeless body of his son was dropped to the floor, advanced decay already set in. This time he screamed and jumped up, driving the dagger towards the creature.

  Ulric heard the creak of the carriage floorboards first which put him on edge, the training he had received since he was a small lad honing his survival instinct to a fine razor. Reflectively his hand rested on his dagger and drew his legs up slightly from his sitting position. The scream came next, and adrenaline flooded his system. His eyes shot open just in time to see a dagger racing towards him. He had no time to draw his dagger and instead both hands managed to grasp the wrist. The dagger was stopped short of its mark and Ulric’s knee planted itself into his assailant’s stomach, and he felt the grip loosen to the point the dagger clattered to the floor. Twisting the wrists he forced the attacker to their knees, a fist raised above his head.

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   Torben had been in a relatively peaceful slumber when the scream awoke him, his eyes taking a frustrating amount of time to adjust to the dim lights in the carriage. He had never gotten use to the sounds of screams and battle; it was only in knowing that what he was embarking on would secure peace for his people that drove him through the horrors of war and violence. He shot up just as Ulric landed a sickening blow on a kneeling figure in front of him, before unsheathing his dagger. Torben knew better to speak his mind, to get in the way of Ulric when rage took over the man. Whoever the unfortunate man was would be their last mistake.

   Elias woke to a scream, or was it his own? Whoever it was the façade of his dream slipped away, and reality flooded in like a shock. It took him time to realise he was in the cart still, and not back to his former home, and what was happening took just a little longer to come to him. It came to him as a sickening blow landed on a hooded figure right in front of him, Ulric holding onto the person’s wrist with one hand as the other slammed into their face, the dagger burying itself into the assailant's temple as quickly as Ulric withdrew it. Elias looked down to his own hands to see his dagger was in his hand unsheathed, confusion visible on his face.

   The blow to the assassin’s temple was sloppy and hadn’t killed the person outright. Ulric sent a knee into his face, sending blood and teeth flying in the small, confined space. The hooded man fell onto his back gargling blood and broken teeth as he clawed for his dagger on the floor. His hand grabbed the blade and arced it to slice the back of Ulric’s leg, his face turning into a contorted grin full of malice; just like the one Elias had seen in his nightmare. The assassin knew he was dead, but if he had been successful the blow would have in turn, avenged his own death. Elias brought his boot down hard on the assassin’s wrist as it began its arc, the sickening crunch of snapping bone turning his stomach as he did this. The man tried to scream but couldn’t, as Elias raised his free hand up, and with a concerted effort sent forth a jet of poison which melted the hooded figures face away, spatters eating into the wood and metal.

   No words were exchanged between the three for a moment. Ulric nodded his appreciation to Elias, then withdrew a bow from near to where he was asleep, notching an arrow and aiming it to the back of the carriage. Everyone else was alert, Torben trying to calm himself from yet another horror he had witnessed. Elias steadied himself on the walls of the carriage, the spell sapping some of his strength. Ulric’s eyes burned with rage, knowing that they had been set up to fail before they ever achieved their goal. For a time, the only sounds which came were the gentle creaking of the carriage being buffeted by the wind, and the occasional drip of poison and blood hitting the metal frame bellow the wooden floorboards. Then another sound came. Two light knocks on the door in front of the three men. Torben quietly approached the door and knocked back twice slightly louder, then moved out of the way of Ulric’s line of fire.

“Thank fuck you did that quietly” the voice on the other end said as it opened the doors of the carriage. His mouth dropped, and all the colour left his face, seeing all three of them standing there. He reacted too slowly, and before he could utter another word or even close his mouth, the arrow was loosed, finding it’s mark in his windpipe, cutting what would have been his screams of help. Their driver slumped to the ground and a shout from further away sounded. Torben raised his fists trying his best to supress anger just as he was trained to. For he knew that before they reached their destination a lot more blood would have to be spilled.