Mordecai lunged through the crowd, sending several fleeing citizens flying. The girl, bloodstained and battered, seemed set to send him on a longer race. 

The Hebrew almost collided with the knight and the dragon. He only managed to stop himself just in time, almost overbalancing. Clutching his staff and wheezing, he spluttered out a hurried greeting. The girl was already gone.

Suddenly, an eerie voice spoke from the stampeding crowd: "Come, come. Hurry, hurry, do not tarry. Come, move your feet of lead! Dare not drop what you carry. Hurry, hurry, 'else we'll all be dead!" As if in a trance, he turned and followed the voice, too weak and tired to resist. He prayed frantically in his head for strength, but he still could not stop his body from moving. "[i]Perhaps the Lord wants me to follow[/i]", he reasoned, and, as there seemed no alternative, he stopped fighting the power and allowed it to guide him towards its source.