They found their poor horse dead. They had to gather what supplies they could carry from its cooling body and make a break for it on foot. The streets were silent except for the sounds of their laboured steps upon the cobbled paths. They encountered no one, and after a while Janus, eating some sausage as he tried to get his strength back up, wondered aloud if there might be anyone left in the world for them to run into.

“We will,” Kurt said with remarkable authority. “The world’s bigger than we think, and there are lots of places in it to hide, right Janus?”

The runner nodded. They had made little real progress, and both could guess easily what the other was thinking: that at any moment, either what remained of the Ashen or their royal enemies might appear and attack them. But nothing happened. It was the first stroke of luck they had after finally escaping that growing column of dust at the heart of the dead Alte Eichen. It was gone now, and soon the city would be behind them as well. They reached the gatehouse that led to the west, and the coast. It was open and deserted of even corpses. Another stroke of luck. Given everything that had happened to them, Kurt supposed he and his friend were owed quite a bit of good fortune by fate, or God, or whatever it was that dictated how things in the world generally went.

Janus grunted, visibly straining under the weight of all the sacks of food he had insisted on carrying. He did not complain once, though, nor ask for Kurt’s help. Bauer carried a far more precious cargo.

Martin had stirred in his arms soon after they began their slow flight. He had been tired, and confused, but all of that had ended when he realised whose arms he was in. Kurt’s chest was still damp, and own eyes still red from the tears. They could not dwell on their joy for too long, sadly. A lot was going on, and they needed to get as far away from it as possible. His boy had been too tired, drained it seemed, of nearly all of his strength, to protest. He had fallen asleep again soon after they’d ended their tearful embrace. His father had been carrying the boy ever since. Kurt did not mind. Truth be told, be barely felt tired at all, just then. His son was safe. Kurt basked in a loving warmth he had thought long lost in his life. His son was safe, and he had saved him. Now it was just a matter of keeping it that way.

“Do you think they won?” Janus asked him as they stood, halted for a few minutes to set his burdens down and rest a bit, a mile or so down the road from the western gate of the necropolis of Eichen. The column of dust was gone completely from the horizon now, though one could not forget the awful power that had been its instigator. The trees, plants and even the animals that could not escape from being so close to the city were all visibly dead. The death toll on the trees warned to stretch on for at least a few hundred feet more. It was a dreadful, chilling sight to behold.

“I hope so,” Kurt replied. He thought of Theo, prince Siegfried, and the other hunters that had come out to his destroyed world, trying to imagine what sort of hell they all must have gone through since then. He could not, or perhaps just did not want to. He meant it, though. Whatever else they were, these few souls had been brave, and determined to protect the country and its people from that awful monster and his terrible power. Kurt could understand their fear of his child, and it was one he knew he would have to grow used to himself, now that he could little doubt just what it was that he cradled in his arms. Martin would not go to the Sanctum. Kurt would die before he’d let that happen. No, they would go somewhere far away, where they would not be known, and where they might find a peaceful spot of earth to call their own to live their quiet lives on. If he was a praying man, Kurt would have prayed for this. It was not too much to ask of the world, surely.

Janus hoisted his burdens back over his shoulders once more, signalling his readiness to press on. They said little as they continued their painfully slow flight. After an hour, the trees they passed were no longer dead and crumbling. An hour after that, at their first stop for a proper rest, Janus even claimed that he heard birdsong.

“Told you,” Kurt Bauer said with a smug grin.

Martin woke as they rested. He looked much stronger, and began to feel it after he was fed a whole beef sausage and quarter loaf of bread.

“Where are we going, papa?” the boy asked, after the elder Bauer had introduced Janus to him. His son’s careful politeness amused the wild runner greatly.

Kurt Bauer explained his plan. Martin nodded in approval. He was quieter than Kurt remembered. He hoped that would pass in time.

“What are we going to do for money?” Martin asked, after a few minutes of quiet thought. It made Kurt smile despite himself. That sounded more like his boy.

“We’ll figure something out,” Kurt replied. He was looking up at the branches of the living tree they sat under. He had sat many times like this with Sabine wrapped in his arms when he had been a young man. He put his hand on Martin’s head, and playfully messed up his hair as he recalled those wonderful days. Something occurred to Kurt then, a wrong he had done, both to Sabine herself, and the son she had died to give him.

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“I never told you much about your mother,” he said then, looking down at his boy then. “I should have, Martin. Please forgive me. It’s just…you look so like her.”

Martin, who had always had an answer for everything, was quiet. He looked like he wanted to speak, but was uncertain what to say. They stayed like that for a little while, as Janus began to make ready for the next stage of their walk. They might not reach the next town over by nightfall, but there were plenty of places in the woods that a runner like him could find for them to pass the night in peace.

They were all carrying sacks when they left the side of the road. A world of uncertainty lay ahead. One way or another, someone was going to be looking for them in time.

“How did you two meet?” Martin asked.

Kurt Bauer looked down at the small human being he had helped create and smiled. It was a funny story, actually. Remembering it made him feel younger, and gave back some of the strength in his legs he would need. It would help them pass the time. Kurt began to tell it as they walked. Time yielded to memory, and the hours and years began to fade. The three of them walked west, leaving the dead past behind.

*

At first there was only a sense of floating. Darkness loomed, but had only been recognised after the light had begun to intrude. Memories floated above, below. Years and seconds intertwined and danced. Love returned, and with it hate. Hope held the hand of despair. Shame came, and so did pride. Pride…

Eisengrim opened his eyes. He was not awake; so much as he was aware again. He wanted to move, but his body was numb, and he struggled to remember what had happened. His head was propped up, and he just had the strength to look down his body. His ageing, but still strong torso was bare, and his belly was bound in white linen. There was dust everywhere, but beyond he could just see another prone form, covered in a sheet, its boots sticking out.

Dietrich.

Eisengrim remembered. Grief brought awareness, and he knew he was stirring now. His friend was gone, but what of the others? What had happened? Had Volkard escaped?

“Eisengrim!”

The old bull looked about, the sudden adrenaline giving him the strength to push himself up onto his elbows. He did not stay long in this position. The pain in his gut awoke then, knocking the air from his lungs. He crumpled down onto his back, gasping and coughing from the awful pain. The adrenaline rush ended suddenly, and it was a miracle he stayed conscious at all. You old fool.

He heard scrambling, and then faces appeared above him. Klara. Theo. The relief at seeing them alive was almost enough to make Eisengrim forget the pain and the loss of his friend. He could see at once from their weary faces that they had both been crying, and he wondered for a mad second if he had interrupted them.

“Thank God,” Klara said, her red hair loose and filthy. She ran her hand along the side of Eisengrim’s face. Her left arm was in a crude sling.

“What happened?” the Hammer asked.

“Dietrich took most of the arrow,” Theo replied, settling down on his knees. “I checked him. I think he died instantly. I never even thought to check you earlier, sir. I’m sorry. Dietrich was dead, and I couldn’t think. I chased down Rahm. I could have finished him, but he got away. I’m sorry sir. I didn’t even notice you were still breathing until I tried removing the arrow that hit you both. I’m sorry.”

Eisengrim found enough of his strength to reach out, and rest a hand on the young bull’s knee as he began to shake, and weep. “He can run, but he won’t get far,” he told the Oak. He looked between them both, his student and his dead friend’s. “What else? What of Volkard? Tell me everything.”

The youngsters above him shared a look of uncertainty, but they told the truth. Eisengrim hoped it was out of respect.

“Volkard’s dead,” Klara said.

“Prince Siegfried killed him,” added Theo, trembling. “But he died of his wounds. Gerda is dead too, sir. Volkard killed her and the archers she led. The duke is dead, and I think all his men are, too. If any are left, then they ran for it. The Ashen are all dead, sir. I think we might be the only people left in the city.”

It was a lot to take in. Eisengrim knew he must still be lying where he had first fallen. Dietrich had died on top of him, saving his life. The duke and his dead men must be nearby. Gerda. The Prince. Even the Ashen. Never before had the old bull felt so overwhelmed by the despair brought on by death. Too many. Far too many, and yet I live.

Another thought occurred then, stirred on by his duty.

“Martin?”

Theo shook his head. “I couldn’t find him. I checked the bodies of the Ashen. I searched the Temple. It’s nothing like Siegfried described. I found six dead men, but nothing else.”

“His father’s gone too,” Klara said bitterly. “I went by the inn where we locked him up. The door to the cellar’s been hacked to pieces with an axe.”

Janus. “Could they have swooped in and made off with Bauer’s boy?”

“I don’t know, Eisengrim. It seems likely.”

“We’ll have to find out for certain,” the old bull said with an exasperated groan. He felt Klara’s small hands taking his up and into her grip. She squeezed it, and he gently squeezed back. There was still much to do, and they had lost so many good people, but the work was not quiet over yet.

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes sir,” Theo replied. He looked sick to the old bull. Sick, and terribly afraid. “Before he died, Volkard…well…he said something, sir…”