The figures bent over Dûrost were covered in black, with rough features, which were often deformed. They were like humans in form, although comparable only to one tortured beyond recognition. Brutal, brainless, fighting machines. Arka, Landor guessed, correctly.

The Arka spoke in harsh, guttural tones. They growled and spat at each other when they talked.

"Come 'ere, Balgor- you little piece o' filth!" one spat. "-This one's got somethin' you should see!" The one talking crouched down and retrieved Dûrost's sword. "It's a pretty little thing- ain't it? Don't get it dirty with your filthy little paws! Master would know a thing or two about it. It's my discovery now," said the Arka, who must have been Balgor. 

"No it isn't! I found it!" The first Arka growled.

"Well that don't coun't!" Balgor replied.

The two Arka started pummelling and clawing at each other with ferocity. Landor looked on in disgust, hidden behind a boulder and part of a bush. He didn't dare to move, but now had to watch this horrible scene, and he couldn't lift a finger to help himself. The idea of spending the day frozen to the spot, hoping that the Arka wouldn't catch him made him feel sick to the stomach. Not to mention that his only companion was unconscious.

A large Arka trudged over to where Balgor and the other Arka were fighting, and, with a heavy blow, knocked them both fully to the floor, with Balgor still clutching Dûrost's sword.

"Stop it, you two!" He spat. "Otherwise, the Master might just hear of this. He'd have a thing or two to say, I'll wager. And it definitely won't be 'have a good day!'." This seemed to subdue them, but they still stared fiercely at each other. "- and give me that!" He shouted, pointing to Dûrost's sword. Lifting it up, he peered closely at it, before sliding it into his belt.

"What should we do with 'is money?" asked another Arka, who was holding Dûrost's pouch in his grubby hands. "-There's quite a lot 'ere!" He added, chuckling to himself in a horrible, croaky voice which became a choking noise.

"Hand it over, Borka, you pig!" said the large Arka.

"Of course, Leader." answered Borka in a voice dripping with sarcasm. The large Arka snatched Dûrost's pouch and snarled at Borka.

"Give me any more cheek, and you'll end up like 'im!" He said, pointing at Dûrost. "Tied up!"

At that, Borka walked off, cowering and sullen. As the large Arka had said, the others had now tied up the unconscious Dûrost, and crudely slung him over their shoulders. The Arka then began to walk off. Landor was much shaken from the recent events and found himself almost at a loss to think of what he had to do. Most of what Dûrost told him had left his mind, except that he must travel across the Fords to Rïduren, and from there to Ithèlïon. Landor knew roughly in which direction the Fords were, and, waiting first for the Arka to be out of sight, he clambered down the outcrop and made his way towards the valley. He felt very vulnerable and helpless without Dûrost. His mind was telling him to go after the Arka; however he knew it was risky and would most likely end in the capture of Isirin. Despite this, he realised that continuing on without Dûrost, and reaching Ithèlïon, would be what Dûrost would have wanted him to do had he known that this separation would happen. Landor would reach  Ithèlïon at all costs for Dûrost's sake, if even it were for no other reason. He had grown fond of his friend's mannerisms and personality, rugged yet kind, eager but sensible. And selfless too.

Landor shook himself, and started to battle his way through the mass of ferns that covered the forest floor. Using a stick, he slashed a path ahead of him, taking care to make as little noise as possible. He weaved his way downwards, amongst the pine trees. Landor didn't come across any more paths, but kept going in the same direction, to hopefully reach the Fords. He began to think about what he would do once he reached Rïduren. Perhaps I could stay at one of the inns there. Buy food, get directions, supplies and other things. Possibly find another travelling companion. Landor winced inwardly at the idea of replacing Dûrost so easily. Although I would need to be very cautious. If Zurin becomes aware of my purpose, I will surely die, and Isirin will be in the hands of the King. His spies are countless, dotted in almost every town there is in the Empire. Any reference to my purpose, to Ithèlïon, or Isirin, will mean that the Arka will be onto me like a falcon to a mouse.

Landor listened carefully for signs of hostile life, wary since Dûrost's ill timed capture. He had keen senses, refined on his numerous hunting trips, and was able to identify many different bird calls that made up the clamour that he often heard in these forests. These hunting trips seemed far back in time, a distant memory with no meaning or consequence in the bleak world Landor now found himself in. He was a different person, changed by what he had seen and been through. He was colder, less trusting, and far more dangerous now.

Landor then began to concentrate on the different sounds around him, listening for a disturbance. He had got used to the pattern of sounds that were heard, and anything unexpected happening to the creatures, like the sighting of Arka, would interrupt the various calls and sounds they were making. This could be identified by someone who was trained, and listened very carefully, without themselves making a disturbance. It was considered a very rare skill to have naturally, and Landor was the only one in his village who knew how to do it, due to his uncommonly fine hearing.

Landor could not afford to relax or drop his guard. He was in constant danger, not helped by the fact that the effects of his capture were unthinkable. Unbearably unpleasant, to say the least. He had to, therefore, do everything possible to avoid capture. He had been viewed as a very skilled person in Arnas, but that was being a hunter. This was different. He was being hunted. He was the prey. He felt anger boiling in him at the Arka, how they brutally captured and looted Dûrost without thought. He briefly let out a cry of rage. The forest fell silent. And in the distance, he could hear something crashing its way towards him.

Landor turned and ran, desperate to escape whatever was behind. He battled  through the undergrowth, heedless of the noise he made and the injuries he got. He lost control of his movement, but just kept going onwards and onwards, always downhill, his momentum carrying him forwards. Landor's heart was racing; fear coursed through his veins as he twisted his head to see what chased him, as it had become aware of him and was giving chase. It was an Arka. Balgor, in fact, clutching Dûrost's money bag. Balgor must have snatched it from the leader and made a run for safety. Landon would be, in his eyes, extra money.

Landor, since looking back, had taken his eye off where he was going. He noticed a large tree ahead of him, blocking his path. Landor panicked, and desperately tried to change direction. He dodged the trunk, but, as he passed it, his foot caught on a root and he flew forwards, rolling to a dazed stop in the bushes.

He saw Balgor bearing down on him. The Arka had a macabre, but stupid, grin on his deformed face as he drew his dagger and walked towards Landor. Landor, realising he had only one choice, rose up to his feet, reached into his pack, and unsheathed Isirin. Bringing it over his head, he lowered the point until it pointed at Balgor's neck. Balgor's smug expression had now changed to one of both surprise and fear.

Landor felt a curious sensation flow through him as he held Isirin. Courage filled him and he felt bolder, less scared.

"You must be his friend", Balgor spat, gesturing in the direction that the Arka had taken Dûrost.

"I am." Landor replied. "And that means you are my enemy." Landor followed this remark by making a threatening motion with Isirin. "What are they doing with him? Where are they going?"

"They will take 'im to Lugnar. Nasty place that is- if you're a prisoner there!" Balgor sneered, cowering away from the blade next to his throat. "Goodness knows what they'll do to your friend then. Interrogation, imprisonment, and possibly torture!" he added, sniggering cruelly.  

"Tell me what you know!" Landor said forcefully. It was taking all of his self control to restrain himself from slicing the brute's head from his wretched shoulders. He had to know everything concerning his friend's situation. 

"Oh, Leader was very urgent. He seemed to think that he had captured an Ithèlïon spy. That's a huge punishment for your friend. A huge promotion for our Leader. And now, if I can capture another, glory for me!" Balgor finished, lunging forwards with his dagger. Landor felt unfamiliar reflexes kick in. He swung Isirin around, blocking Balgor's attack. The blade of the dagger twisted, cracked and snapped in half. Landor wondered where the instinct had come from, whilst Balgor just stared, dumbfounded, at Isirin, eyes wide open.

"Your sword..." he stuttered. "It has something special to it. Something deadly- no normal sword could do that." Balgor then looked at his useless dagger, and then, when what Landor had just done had finally sunk in, Balgor shot his fist towards Landor's face. Landor saw it coming and dodged the blow, Balgor's fist ending up in mid-air. Balgor was unbalanced by the miss, and Landor took the opportunity to push Balgor to the floor, and remembering Balgor's part in the capture of Dûrost, stabbed him viciously in the chest with Isirin. The flailing stopped, and Balgor slumped to the floor, lifeless.

Landor took a step back, realising that he had just killed something. Ended a life. An evil life, perhaps, but a life nonetheless. He deserved it. A voice in his mind said. It was just self-defense, anyway.

Landor wanted to agree, but part of his conscience told him that something was wrong. Dismissing it, he told himself that he would have to get over the shock. As he was now one of the Five, in fact, the last known one, his life would involve much violence and bloodshed. Peace could only be obtained through war. Lives would have to be taken, sacrificed for a greater cause. Isirin was an instrument of death, not of life. But through it, a new life, a new hope would arise, if all went right.

Thinking of Isirin, Landor realised that his boldness and courage had come because of it. Somehow, it had arisen a deep instinct in Landor, one that he never knew he had. It had given him power. Landor placed it carefully in the pouch of his pack, in such a way that it would be hidden. 

Where is Lugnar? I must find Dûrost after I leave Rïduren. I should be able to find a map in the city.

Landor had been to Rïduren before, mostly to the market there, and so he knew vaguely his way around. Finding information was not difficult, but doing it in such a way that would not arouse suspicion would be. After all, Lugnar wasn't a common trading destination, in fact, not a destination for anything but what sounded like trouble and death. How he would accomplish this would have to wait, though. The day was drawing near to a close and Landor needed to find a place to rest for the night that would be relatively safe from attack. After Dûrost's capture, Landor wished not to stay in the forest. Nowhere was really safe; The Road and valley were raided by goblins during the night and Landor didn't want to imagine what else would be lurking around at sundown.

Landor had reached the bottom of the hill he had just been on. The land was flattening out towards the river, where Landor decided he would try and find a hidden place where he could sleep in peace, without fear of capture. Landor knew that he would have to get over his fear of hostility. Life as one of the Five would be filled with all sorts of hostility that were were possibly imaginable. Some of the worst imaginable. And perhaps some so terrible that they were beyond his imagination. With too much fear, he would become a coward, and Landor couldn't let that happen to him. But I have Isirin. I am one of the Five. Possibly the last. The last man.

Landor reached the river bank, scanning the landscape for a good place to sleep. He was looking for a large tree with a good position to build a makeshift shelter. The majority of trees that lined the riverbank were willows. Their long, thin branches drooped down into the water, shimmering in the evening light as they rustled in the breeze. A shelter could not be made on them, but the golden-green curtain of leaves could provide invaluable cover from prying eyes and the weather. As Landor looked downstream, he noticed an island in the midst of the river. Willows again lined the shore, but further in, the tops of pine trees could also be seen.

Hopeful, Landor traversed over the many tree roots towards the island. An old pine trunk had fallen, and now bridged the gap between the island and the bank. Landor intended to use it to access the otherwise inaccessible island. The river was much deeper than it looked, and the current beneath the surface was swift. Wading or swimming across would have been a difficult- and extremely unpleasant- choice to have to make.

Landor clambered onto the end of the trunk, and, keeping his weight close to the ground, he began to crawl his way along it until his body was over the water. As Landor looked down, the river seemed faster, colder, and more unfriendly. Turning his view to the shore ahead of him, Landor carried on making slow progress towards the land. Many branches stuck out of the trunk at inconvenient places and angles, forcing Landor to go over them, but he managed to get across without falling in the river.

At the uprooted end of the oak, there was a hollow in the trunk. Landor placed his pack in it, so it would stay dry if it rained during the night. He started to make his way around the edge of the island, looking for shelter. The island was quite large and wide. The shores were rocky and no sand at all could be seen. In fact, most of the island was strewn with rocks, but there were patches of soil in the surface, in which many clusters of trees grew. Landor came away from the shore and moved further inland, over rough and slippery terrain. He could see many large pines, but frustratingly, the lowest branches were high up and unreachable. He desperately searched around for some form of protection when he, quite literally, stumbled upon an overhang of stone. The ledge formed a large roof over a trench formed in the ground. The said trench walls had footholds in it that Landor used to climb down to the cave-like overhang.

One of the ends was blocked up, creating a rear wall for extra protection. The surrounding stone created a large cavity which hand enough room for about three adults to lie down in a row. There's plenty of room there. Landor climbed back up the trench wall and walked over to where he left his pack in the tree hollow. Putting his pack back on, he started off back towards the shelter, picking up branches as he went. He bundled them up and held them against his chest.

When Landor reached his new home for the night, he threw down the sticks ahead of him and made the descent into the shelter. He arranged the longer branches to form a fourth wall, leaving himself a space to get through. With the remaining sticks, he laid them in a pile on the floor, away from his pack. Landor took out his tinder-box and lit a fire with it. He warmed himself by the fire, which lit up the cave with flickering light.

Landor placed some blankets (which he had in his pack) on the floor. He lay down on them, resting his head on his pack and flames dance. He thought of Dûrost. Where is he? Lugnar? Perhaps he is still travelling with the Arka. I hope no harm awaits him. After all, what has he done? They have no proof that he is an Ithèlïon spy. But then, you can neve trust the Arka. They do what they want, regardless of justice and fairness.

The flames flickered on as Landor's mind wondered between thoughts of Dûrost, his dear friend, and memories of the last two days. Slowly, his eyelids shut. Outside, it grew dark. Night was closing in.

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry I took so long to update. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I dedicated this chapter to @elvenmystery for being the first commenter on my story (besides my sister!) Oh yeah, my sister (@elfindisguise) wanted to apologise for how long it took for her to type this up- she has (and will be) very busy with revision and exams. She just wanted to say sorry for the long time it takes for her to edit, type and update. 

Anyway, please do vote and comment because it makes my day! :D

See you all soon!          

- the_great_istari