Ana forced herself to appreciate her gains: her new Perks that would let her defend the people in her charge that much more efficiently, the Advancement Points she got for the Achievements were always great, and the Crystals that got her closer to the next Level. They were good. They were objectively a good thing. It didn’t matter how she got them.

  The list of Possessed and Revenants that she’d gotten partial credit for thanks to her Party was just a block of text that she skipped, focusing on the end. They were worth surprisingly little. The rewards were greatly diluted by the number of people involved in each kill and her relatively minor contribution to most of them, and she ended up with a Medium, three Minor, five Lesser, and a Least Crystal, and a host of Shards.

  That left her with nearly 5000 points worth of Crystals, more than halfway to Level 13. A better person might have considered how she could help someone get from Level 9 to within spitting distance of Level 10. But she needed that Level. Another Level meant higher Attributes, it meant stronger Abilities, and it meant more Endurance and Vitality for her Party. Specifically, for Messy.

  And that thought brought with it not the knowledge that a higher Vitality would help Messy stay alive, but the hope that it might make her smile again.

  God, Ana thought. What’s wrong with me?

  Goddess, the Wayfarer corrected, unbidden. And you seem to have found one person you genuinely care about. I don’t know if I should offer my congratulations or condolences.

  Final preparations were quick. The spearmen were released for the time being to return to their friends and loved ones, or simply to help where they could. A handful of the casualties, exhausted from being healed, had to be carried on stretchers, but most were well enough to arm themselves again.

  The entire remaining population of the outpost marched out the southern gate, bringing all necessary baggage with them. Some particularly agile members of the militia barred the gate from the inside once the last person and the last cart was out, and climbed down the palisade. There was only one thing left to do.

  “These four,” Ana said, facing the assembled population of the Splinter with the bodies of the four dead between them, “died for us. They died for their friends, their loved ones, and their neighbors. Halvar. Sarp Techlan. Verity Saliasdaughter. Almila. Remember their names. They died to give us a fighting chance.

  “But I did not know them, except as students during my training sessions. If anyone would like to say a few words, please step up, and keep it brief.”

  With that she stepped aside. “I did not know them,” she thought. Hell, I struggled to remember their names.

  They deserved better, but it was all there was time for. At least each of them had someone to step up and speak and weep for them before the bodies were burned, Fire-mages ensuring that the process took only minutes.

  When the bones and ashes had been buried and the site marked with a mound, it was finally time to go. With the extra spearmen disbanded, the ten original militia Parties, including volunteers, were reformed — except for Petra’s Party to which Ana belonged. That didn’t change, in large part because of the dual shocks of gaining 12 points of Vitality, and losing them when the Party disbanded. They’d learned that the hard way after the farm rescues.

  Ana positioned the Parties along the assembled train of nervous people. Pirta, still carrying her sword-staff, gave the order to move out, and they were on their way.

  They started as a fairly tight column, but despite everyone’s best efforts, the train soon stretched until it was almost seven hundred feet long. With Pirta’s Party having disbanded, Marra was with Tellak’s Party in the front, where she insisted that her Vanguard Abilities would do the most good. Petra’s Party, less Messy and Ana, were not far behind, with Messy walking with Touanne and Ana moving around constantly.

  As the hours stretched, Ana fell into a routine. She’d start from Tellak at the front then move slowly back, checking on the Parties that were spread out evenly along the train. On the way she’d check in with Touanne, her assistants, and Messy and Jisha. When she reached Sira the Peacekeeper and her Party at the rear, she’d turn, move quickly up the line until she reached Tellak again, and repeat.

  This routine was frequently broken up by calls of “Contact!” or “Demon!” or similar. In singles or in small groups, enemies threw themselves at the train several times an hour. Every time the call went out Ana would hurry there, but with each Party having two others no more than a hundred feet away, Ana rarely even had a chance to fire Kaira’s arbalest. It was rare for the melee specialists to engage at all, with most threats being brought down by volleys of ranged attacks. But despite the relatively minor danger they were in, nerves frayed as everyone had to remain alert for hours on end. That led to mages overusing their magic. The attacks continued even during their short stops, and between having no real rest since the battle and the march, fatigue was setting in.

  It was still light when Ana, together with Pirta and Marra, decided that it was time to camp. They put out a general call for anyone with a high Camping Skill Level, then set them to finding a good campsite for around five hundred people with not nearly enough tents. No hunting or gathering parties were organized; everyone was too wrung out, and they still had enough stores to feed everyone well enough.

  Thank the gods, Ana thought, that it’s always summer here. At least we don’t have to worry about the cold.

  The attacks continued. They slowed for a time once the train stopped, the Camping experts having found a wide hill where the trees were sparser, but then they picked up again. They’d been prepared for that, at least theoretically. It was known that concentrations of people drew demons, and the crazies seemed no different in that regard, coming running and snarling out of the trees every so often only to be shot or blasted down by some archer or mage.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The reality of it was as bad as on the road. Not only did they need people on watch, but those people were constantly active. Apprehension made it hard to rest, and for those who managed to relax, the screams and noise several times every hour made it hard to stay relaxed. There was a constant tension over the camp. They cooked, and people were tense. They made fires, and people sat with their backs to them, looking out into the forest surrounding them. No one knew from which direction the next attack might come; no one wanted to be taken by surprise.

  That night, in their tent, Messy barely spoke. Finally alone and together, she clung to Ana like a drowning woman to a piece of flotsam, and when their Party’s turn came to patrol around the camp, Messy didn’t want to fight. Nor did she want to be left alone. First she begged Ana to stay; when that didn’t work, she demanded to come along, prefering to follow Ana unarmed into the darkness over staying on her own.

  The first time, Ana forced her to stay in the tent despite her pleas. The second time she let her come along. It was stupid. Ana knew that. But she couldn’t stomach the idea of coming back to the tent and finding Messy awake and shaking with tears, like after the first time. As long as Messy stayed close, Ana told herself, she wouldn’t get hurt. And Ana would gladly take a few hits if it meant sparing Messy the tears.

  The next morning found the camp on edge. Ana led some few souls, Messy among them, in some morning exercise, but mostly she got the politest dirty looks imaginable. Most of the camp were sleepless, many of them in terribly foul moods; except for Messy, who only seemed to care if she had Ana close, only those with a high Willpower or certain Enhancements or Abilities got anything resembling enough sleep, with the frequent thunder.

  One particularly lucky woman had an Enhancement that completely eliminated her need for sleep. It would have been great if she had any kind of combat ability, or a high Perception. She didn’t. She was a Baker.

  The next day continued where the previous had left off, only with everyone in a worse mood. On top of that some of the injured who hadn’t healed completely now had crystals erupting through the skin where their wounds had been. “It’s not an emergency,” Touanne said in a low voice when she told Ana about it, “but they won’t recover until we can perform the ritual. And for that we need time, and a hard, smooth area, at least seven feet wide, for the ritual circle. Our Earth-mages can prepare one, but that will take more time.”

  Ana just nodded and left the wounded and their supervision to Touanne, trusting the Healer to let her know if the situation ever became more urgent.

  Early on the second day they passed the place where Ana had killed Rankan the Ranger and Larry the Rogue. Ana marvelled for a moment at how far she’d gone with that pack and her busted ribs, how slowly they’d been moving now with the train, and how utterly unremarkable the place was. It was an empty stretch of road like any other, and it felt wrong, somehow, that there was no sign of their fight. It had been over a month since then, so of course there wasn’t. But she’d killed two men there. It felt like there should have been blood, or bodies, or some sign of the things she’d discarded.

  She shook it from her mind. The train moved on without pause, and she was too busy to worry about the banality of the place.

  Every hour either Ana or Pirta called a halt. People sat down along the road as Touanne and the other Life-mages tended to blistered feet and Water-mages refilled canteens. People tried to nap where they could, helped by simple ear-plugs that the tailors and seamstresses had come together to make on the march. The attacks kept coming, but it seemed to Ana that they were getting further apart. It was a hopeful sign.

  At noon they stopped for lunch. As Ana sat with Messy and Touanne, everyone finishing their meals, Mamtass the priest approached them.

  “Marshal. Chosen. It’s time, I think, to pray,” he said. “I would like to gather the faithful.”

  Ana looked at Messy, who nodded, and shrugged. “As long as you don’t bother anyone I won’t stop you. I’ll even join you, if you want. But why now? Why not last night?”

  Mamtass gave her a tired smile. “It’s not for hope I want to pray, but for direction. I dare say those who need it will have prayed on their own, but if we march past where we need to go… The Wayfarer teaches that there is value in getting lost, but there is a time and a place, yes? And not to place any doubt on your abilities, I hope that a hundred or two can point the way better than a single woman.”

  Ana snorted and rose, offering her hand to Messy, who took it. “Fine. Let’s gather your flock, padre.”

  “Padre…?” Mamtass muttered.

  “Ana knows all kinds of strange languages,” Messy said fondly, and Ana looked at her, a smile tugging at her lips. It was the most positive emotion she’d heard from her girlfriend since the battle the previous day. There was a faint light back in her eyes, and it made Ana’s heart skip in an entirely unfamiliar way, like a clenching fist had relaxed just a fraction.

  Organizing a group prayer was both easier and harder than it might have been in the outpost. Since no one was farther than a few yards from the road, getting the word out was easy. But then they needed to move off a bit so they wouldn’t bother those who wanted no part of it, and they needed to redistribute some of the Parties so that everyone could be kept safe. Not that Ana couldn’t have dealt with a handful of crazies or a demon on her own, but it wouldn’t surprise her if this was the moment the universe decided to punish her hubris and send a whole wave of the bastards at them.

  When everything was arranged, over two hundred people were gathered in a small clearing. Before them stood Mamtass, and they were surrounded by a loose cordon of fighters, Ana included, close enough to participate but facing outward and scanning the trees for any threat.

  “Thank you for coming,” Mamtass began. “You all know I like to talk, but let us make this fast. Please, join me in prayer.” He raised his hands, palms up to the sunlight filtering through the canopy.

  “Wayfarer! Beloved goddess, ascended lady of the roads, and the hidden paths, and the Splinters! Silent companion to those who wander! Watcher over the lost! We need your guidance now, more than ever. Time is short, and we cannot indulge in taking the long way around. We cannot afford to search fruitlessly and go astray. Your chosen has told us your will, and we have set everything aside to carry it out. We know the consequences of failure. We know that not even your kindness and mercy can protect us from the malice of the unrighteous, and we are willing to risk everything for life and freedom to prevail. But our friends and allies are in danger, and we need their strength! We must rescue them, but we do not know where we must go! We beg you, for our sakes and for the sake of the Splinters themselves, guide our steps! Show us the path to our friends, that we may walk it and carry out your will.”

  “Show us the path!” the congregation intoned.

  He’s not nearly this formal when he’s alone, the goddess whispered. Or long winded, for that matter.

  Ana had to suppress a smile.

  Go on, now. I need you to ask before I can provide.

  “Show me the path to the Delve. Help me save my friends,” Ana whispered, and the Wayfarer obliged. Sort of.

  “I’d expected something more,” Ana said. Not complaining, as such, just… voicing some slight disappointment. What she’d received was nothing much more specific than to follow the road south and turn off dawnward late the next day.

  I know, and I wish I could just place the location in your mind, but this is all I can do. Keep the prayers coming, and I’ll keep pointing. And use the others! I can only send them impressions, like I did with you just now, and everyone interprets it a little differently. Between you all, I have no doubt you’ll find the right place.

  Behind Ana the congregation was returning to the road. She and the other sentries were screening them as they moved, making sure nothing leaped out of the underbrush to claw someone in the back. Those whose faces Ana saw, though, had a new determination to them, a light that spoke of purpose and direction.

  I may have added some reassurance for them, as well, the goddess added, her voice slowly fading away.

  “Thanks,” Ana whispered into the wind. “They need it.”

  As they moved south the attacks came further apart, but the demons grew stronger. Ana saw several with a Threat Level of Extreme, and one that was labelled Catastrophic. Not that it mattered much. The demons had no coordination, and when they were spotted the Parties converged on them. They went down in a storm of sometimes literal fire, the frontliners only closing in to finish them off when they were thoroughly worn down. If not for the fact that a single slip-up could be disastrous, it might have been boring. The rewards weren’t even good! Going by what Ana knew, a solo kill on that Catastrophic-rated demon would have netted her a Supreme Growth Crystal, worth 3200 experience points. Killed by the combined efforts of four Parties, totalling just over forty people, she got a Minor. Sure, 200 points for practically free wasn’t nothing, but at least some kind of excitement might have alleviated the stress of being responsible for so many people.

  When they stopped to set up their second camp, they again did so early. This time they sent out small hunting and foraging parties, hoping to supplement their dwindling stores. Each party had two hunters or two foragers, accompanied by two dedicated fighters who could be trusted not to get in the experts’ way, and who ideally had the skills to help. And everyone had strict, so-help-me-God orders to flee any attackers if at all possible.

  Ana had been worried about sending anyone out, but no one got hurt, and it did some good; the hunters brought in some fresh meat, and the foragers a great deal of mushrooms, roots, wild herbs and eggs. Not enough to feed everyone, but enough to add a bit of cheer to their evening meal and stretch their supplies.

  But as much as a bit of fresh food did for morale, the efforts of the seamstresses and the tailors went further. The bursts of thunder slowly grew more frequent, but by the time night fell they’d finished enough simple earplugs that there was a pair for anyone that wanted them.

  That night, almost everyone could sleep.

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