Navi Jespon limped heavily as he made his way through the uneven paths of the mines. He was at the very back of the crowd of refugees fleeing to safety. In fact, he was one of the last to exit the main hallway and enter the mines. The navi had even helped the mayor push one of the huge wooden doors shut and had set the locking bolt himself. At that moment, as Karl Starei and the Mayor turned away, rock trolls on the other side of the door destroyed the mansion’s hallway, reducing it to bricks, stone, and wood, hurling an avalanche of debris into the door, ensuring no one would ever be able to exit that way. As the rubble hit the far side, the enormous beams that made up the doors held firm; however, the tall, ancient redwood beams splintered violently near the navi, throwing huge wooden slivers in all directions. A splinter the size of his head struck his right knee painfully, dropping him to the ground. He was pelted with dozens of smaller, sharper pieces, striking him in the stomach, arms, back and face, but most did little more than leave tiny cuts in his exposed skin.

  Now, the navi—a man in his sixties who found it difficult to do more than shuffle through the Chapel in the early mornings, especially the cold ones—was racing as fast as his limp would allow him, threading his way through the panicky folk. While he offered words of encouragement where he could, and stopped once to help a mother find her child—who it turned out was only a few feet behind her—he kept his eye fixed on Karl Starei and his young daughter. They were moving to the front of the throng much faster than he could. Jespon’s thin white hair was standing straight up and waving in the air as he limped; the beautiful, though ridiculously large hat he’d worn at the Feast was gone, lost somewhere in all the confusion. His purple Navi robe was now ripped and filthy. But he didn’t care about any of that—he was focused on reaching the Stareis.

  Without warning, he felt himself being scooped up in two very strong and tall arms. The navi was just over six feet tall, but the youth that picked him up was even taller, and significantly stronger.

  “I’m catching up to them, too,” said K’Van Cmyth who cradled the navi like a baby. “I have to make sure she’s alright.”

  It took Navi Jespon nearly a minute to overcome his surprise and catch his breath. When he did, he found he was grateful to the young man. He reached up and touched K’Van’s face gently, like a parent would and thanked him. It was then that the navi felt the tears still hot on the young man’s face.

  “Are you alright, my child?” he asked.

  “I’m fi—” the youth started, then his throat seized up, his eyes turned bright red, and the tears began flowing again. During all of this the boy skillfully threaded them through the crowd. The navi reminded himself that even though K’Van was a head taller than himself and strong as a bear, he was only thirteen years old.

  Putting his hand on the youth’s shoulder, Jespon asked, “Can you tell me what’s happened?”

  “M-my father,” K’Van stammered, “h-he stayed at the ranch … to-to protect the herd.” The boy’s father was T’Mahs Cmyth, one of the three hands that worked the Starei llama ranch. Navi Jespon thought he was the foreman, though he wasn’t certain. He considered it for a moment and remembered the other hands at the Feast. But try as he could, the navi could not remember seeing T'Mahs in the crowd during his supplication.

  “I heard tell Karl released all of his animals before coming up here. Whoever told me said something about letting them find better grazing up higher. Didn’t make sense to me at the time, but …”

  “There was a mother with her n-newborn,” K’Van told him. “It wa-was a hard birth. He said he’d stay t-to make sure she was alright before coming. I-I never … h-he never came!” With that the boy began sobbing, but he didn’t skip a step in his journey through the crowd.

  Once again, in his long life as spiritual caretaker of the Hylanders, Navi Jespon found tenderness in the most unlikely places and situations. He had been a part of these peoples’ lives for most of their existence. He had witnessed their births, their rites of passage, their triumphs, their defeats, and yes, even their deaths. Tears filled his own eyes as he did what came naturally to him now. He placed the three first fingers of his right hand carefully in the center of the young man’s forehead and said, “The blessings of the Vessel go with you. May you find your path through darkness by the Light of the Three.” And as had happened countless times in the navi’s life, it worked. K’Van’s breathing steadied, his tears stopped flowing, and his face grew from overwhelming sadness to peace, then to determination.

  And Jespon wondered again in his heart if any of what he had just said were real in any way other than simply in their minds.

  The navi had been a person of faith since his youth. He had always been a tall lad, though thin and not as strong as his fellows. His parents had planned for him to enter the mines at sixteen, just as his father had done. But, when Jespon was seven, his father had been caught in the collapse of a new tunnel and had come home in a wooden box. He could clearly remember the old navi—Navi Pyper—accompanying the casket. Pyper had been dressed much as Jespon had been today, though in his memory the hat and the robes were new and spotless. He didn’t remember exactly what the older man had told him and his mother, but whatever he said had the same reaction on his younger self as his own words today had had upon poor K’Van Cmyth. The young Jespon had calmed down, stopped crying, and been determined to help his mother.

  Navi Pyper’s words had not had the same effect upon his mother. She remained sad, even as she tried to be his mother and to do what she could to scratch out living in the poor mining town. The older navi had visited them often, bringing food and sometimes even clothes and toys with him as he came. Not once did Navi Pyper make them feel like they were receiving charity. The old man often claimed he’d made too much stew and there was no way he could finish it all before it went bad. Or that his sister from Lolan had come to see him and brought bolts of cloth that of course a navi could never really use. Or that the Helpers had cleaned out their home and had several toys the children were too old to play with anymore. The old navi had done much more than help them survive, Navi Jespon had realized later—he had allowed them to retain their dignity.

  At sixteen, Navi Jespon did not enter the mines, but instead he became the older navi’s apprentice. When he had received his robes and Navi Pyper had laid his fingers on Jespon’s forehead to bless him, the young man looked into the pews of the Chapel and saw his mother smile for the first time in many years. She passed away two weeks later, though she was not even forty years old. Many whispered it was from the Sadness, but the young apprentice knew she had really died years earlier. His mother had stayed alive until she had seen her son reach an age when he could care for himself, when he had chosen his vocation, when he no longer needed her. Then she had let herself join her lover who she could never truly feel whole without.

  Navi Pyper died not long after. At the age of only seventeen, Navi Jespon became the Navigator of the Vessel for his hometown and never once regretted his decision. But though he quickly became an expert in all of the Books of Maho’Ni and the lectures and letters of other navis from all around Glish, he often found himself wondering if any of it were real. If these books filled with stories—as helpful and comforting as they often could be—were more than simple myths designed to help people through a difficult existence. To assist common folks with lives filled with hardships and pain. But today, he had seen the scriptures come to life before his eyes. He knew today what he did not know yesterday: it was all real. And he wasn’t certain how to handle that information.

  “Master Starei,” K’Van said in a voice that was too deep for his youth. Navi Jespon was startled find that the boy—no, not a boy, not today—that this young man had already caught up with the Dashman and his daughter. In fact, he had reached them as they got to the front of this throng of more than three hundred souls.

  “K’Van,” Karl said, almost casually, his attention on his daughter who seemed intent on taking over the leadership of the crowd. The Dashman nodded to the young man, turned away toward Dahn, then whipped his head around to stare at K’Van and Navi Jespon. The navi guessed they made a strange-looking pair.

  “Are you alright, K’Van?” Karl asked, kindly. He had obviously seen the look on the large youth’s face.

  “My father … he didn’t make it to the Feast,” K’Van said steadily, with more confidence in his voice than he probably felt.

  “Oh, my dear boy,” Karl said, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Unexpectedly, the Dashman threw his arms around the young man and the navi alike. He hugged them both tightly then released them and stood back, all businesslike again. “I am grateful to you for helping this fine young man at this terrible time,” Karl said to Navi Jespon.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s the one helping me,” the navi responded with a sad grin. He pointed at his knee, which he surprised to see was leaking red through his purple robe. “Splinters from the door.”

  “Himmelsark!” Karl exclaimed. “I am so sorry I didn’t notice when it happened.”

  “Don’t profane, Karl,” the navi chided, gently reminding him that he understood Dashtongue. At least he knew that word. “Not after what we’ve all witnessed today.” He looked up at large lad who was sill cradling him carefully. “You can let me down now, my son. I can limp along at this pace.” K’Van did as he asked and slowly lowered him to the cavern floor. After a few painful steps, Jespon wondered if he should have let the boy continue to hold him.

  At the font of the crowd was the leadership of Hylan: Mayor Helper, his wife the Healer, and Karl Starei. Joining them were the head servant women in the witch’s … Navi Jespon stopped himself … in the priestess’s mansion: Jayn Hatter, Myria L’Dar, and Tami Dae. And of course, the navi was now there, as well.

  There was one person at the front who the navi did not expect: Neemin Sucram. The grizzled miner was typically what Jespon would call a ne’er-do-well. When he wasn’t in the mines, he was at the public house consuming what hard liquor he could afford. And he was always pestering the female socializers, some to the point where they would no longer see him no matter how many colored crystals he offered. Yet, here he was, helping the throng wend their way through the mines toward the Lolan tracks, telling adults to watch their footing and helping young children over small boulders in the path. He made a mental note to speak to Neemin when the journey was over—these kinds of stressful situations often helped people turn their lives around.

  “Master Starei, I know this isn’t the right time, but I really need to ask you a question.”

  “What is it, Navi Jespon?” Karl asked.

  “Well,” the navi looked about and decided that no one was really listening to him—they were all too intent on getting their families and themselves out of harm’s way. “You knew her, I understand. The Wandering Woman.” Karl grunted in the affirmative, but didn’t look at the navi as they made their way forward. “Is she who she says she is?”

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  At this, the Dashman did look up, surprised. “You can ask that after seeing what we saw?”

  “Yes, I agree, it was very … it was overwhelming. But her description…”

  “Doesn’t match the scriptures,” Karl finished for him, a slight grin on his face.

  “Exactly.”

  Karl sighed heavily. “I first met her in a Frans prison when I was a young man,” he started. “I had been captured the day before and was due to be executed the next morning.”

  “That’s horrible!” the navi said, more loudly than he’d intended.

  “Indeed, it was. It was during the Invasion and I was on my own. That night, she came to my cell carrying a green crystal torch. She opened the heavy door with a push of her hand and I felt stupid for not trying it. Just between us, I don’t it would have worked if I had—she did something to open it, I’m just not sure what. In any case, she took my hand and led me out of the prison. There were guards there, I know it. I saw them stationed outside my cell. But that night—that night we walked out of the building and never saw anyone.” The Dashman shook his head. “I still don’t know how she did that.”

  “Did you know at that point she was M’Randa?”

  “Are you kidding? All the paintings I’d ever seen of the Wandering Woman were of a tall blond blue-eyed woman wearing—”

  “Silver armor,” they both said at the same time, which made them laugh. It was strange to hear laughter in that desperate situation. “I never thought she would look like a West Islander or that her eyes would be golden,” Karl continued.

  “How did you discover her true identity?” the navi asked.

  “She took me back to Dash. When we went through the last mountain pass before reaching Luten—that’s the Dash capital—a band of overzealous Frans soldiers found us and attacked. She tried desperately to get them to stop, but one of them had a scroll with my image drawn on it and they told her they would not relent until they had captured or killed me. That was when she took out the Sword of Heaven from that scabbard on her back. It was then that I knew all the stories I’d heard of M’Randa were wrong.”

  “That description comes straight of the Third Book of Maho’Ni,” Navi Jespon said. “Obviously that Book was written after Maho’Ni … vanished. So, he did not write it himself. My guess is that whoever did, made her look the way he wanted rather than the way she was … is.”

  “Why the questions?” Karl asked, seeming genuinely curious as walked along. The navi noticed that Karl’s pace had slowed to match his limp, though the Dashman never for a moment took his eyes off his daughter. Haltingly, Jespon explained how his faith had transformed over time through his own life experiences and those of others. That he had started to see his religion as more of an aide than a devotion to a literal being. And that now, all of that was in question again.

  “I have been of the opinion for many years,” he told Karl, “that the Three Aspects of the Vessel—the Mind, the Soul, and the Body—were just figurative. That they represented humankind and how we interact with the world around us. But now—”

  “Now that has not changed,” Karl said, firmly. “So, you’ve found that all the old legends are true or at least have a basis in history. You have discovered that your religion is in fact based upon real people and real events. But that does not mean the Vessel listens to supplications or if She does, that she grants blessings. You have found that Angels and even Fallen Angels are real and that demonspawn and the Goblin Horde really do exist. But that doesn’t mean they tempt us to do bad things or read our thoughts and push us toward corruption. Even though the stories in the Books of Maho’Ni are true, the religion you have devoted your life to can be an allegory of life and how to live it. Look at all the good you have done throughout your years; at all the people you have helped. Does it matter if it is real or an allegory? I’ll tell you what I’ve seen in Hylan—it does not matter to the Hylanders. What matters is how you have treated them.”

  Navi Jespon nodded softly and was shocked to feel tears running down his face. He bent his head as he continued to walk and saw something he hadn’t expected. Lowering his hand to his middle, he felt a warm, sticky wetness leaking through his robe in yet another place. The palm of hand was bright red when he took it away. Without meaning to, he ran into the person in front of him. It was K’Van Cmyth and had had stopped suddenly. Perhaps because the young woman he had intent upon and also halted.

  “NO!” came a shout that echoed through mineshaft. It was Dahn Starei’s voice, but it defiant in a way the navi had never heard from her before. “We cannot go that way!” she continued, just as loudly.

  “My dear girl,” Myrai said to her, soothingly, “we know what you’ve been through. It’s horrible. But this is the plan…”

  “The plan is wrong!” Dahn retorted. “My mother’s shade told me not to go to Lolan. She told me there is another path that will take us farther and faster. She said it was a way the demonspawn can’t follow!”

  “All of the preparations, Little Mouse!” Jayn told Dahn, taking her hand. “The food, the minecars! We have made arrangements with contacts in Lolan for housing our people. Many of the folk here have Lolan relatives that are expecting them. This is what we have been working towards. We simply have to cross that boundary and right there in front of us and begin loading people and food on the minecarts.”

  “I thought you believed me, Jayn!” Dahn cried. “My father told you that the message certainly came from my mother. Why don’t you believe me?”

  “I believe you, my daughter,” said Karl Starei, looking at her with a quiet, fierce trust. “I will follow where you take us.”

  “I believe you,” said K’Van Cmyth, loudly enough for everyone in the mines to hear him. “I will follow you!”

  “I believe you,” Navi Jespon whispered. Then he cleared his throat and shouted for all to hear, “I BELIEVE YOU!”

  The navi’s shout started a chorus throughout the mines. “I believe you!” they said in voices soft and loud, women and men, old folk and children alike. It echoed over and over thorough the tunnels and shafts around them, until Navi Jespon was convinced the unmined crystals themselves were repeating it.

  “Then it is settled,” Myria said when the echoes had died out. “We will follow you. Where will you take us?” At those words, Dahn’s face turned pale and her eyes grew wide. It appeared that she knew what not to do, but was uncertain about what to do. The navi laughed low in his throat so that no one else could hear it; her predicament reminded him greatly of his own.

  “Follow your heart,” Navi Jespon whispered softly to the young woman who stood a few paces ahead of him. She heard him, turned her head and looked at him in confusion. “When life is uncertain,” he continued, “when we don’t know what to do next, the only thing we can rely upon is our own good judgement. You have been raised by good parents, Dahn. By a father who has loved you and taught you everything he knows. You have talked to you mother who has passed on—something most of us will never be able to do. They trust you. That means they know you can do this thing. You—and perhaps only you—have everything you need to guide us to safety. You must trust yourself. Follow your heart, my child.”

  Dahn’s face softened and she looked around. She closed her eyes and the navi could see her lips moving. The young woman opened her eyes once again and looked around … and stopped with a gasp. “Xahn?” she whispered.

  Everyone in the mineshaft followed her gaze. She was looking at … nothing. Blackness engulfed the wall of the shaft where she was intently looking. In a surprising move, she began walking toward the dark, empty tunnel wall … and went through it. As if it were one person, the entire crowd held its breath.

  “There ain’t nothin’ that way!” Neemin Sucram shouted in the quiet. “We tried goin’ down there, but there ain’t even any whites. Just a big dark hole.”

  “We will need light,” Dahn said quietly, then repeated it more loudly. “This is the right way! Bring some light!”

  “You heard the young lady!” Mayor Helper shouted. “Get some torches over there. That’s the way we’re going.”

  “Of course,” said Wyll Helper, still riding the back of young Jeanna. “Straight into the darkest part of the mines! I should have guessed.” He took a large bite off a turkey leg he retrieved from under his shirt.

  “Wait,” Jeanna said, looking over her shoulder. “You brought snacks with you?”

  “Of course,” said Wyll, looking like it was obvious. “I wasn’t going to leave that much good food behind!”

  “What else you got,” the young woman carrying him asked. “If I’m going to carry it as well as you, I might has well have some.” Wyll handed her a chunk of ham and she started eating it. Navi Jespon smiled at the exchange and wondered if the young lady realized where he retrieved that morsel from.

  Within a few seconds, several people came forward with their own person handheld torches, palm-sized white crystals that shown brightly. Three miners also came forward, two wearing their metal helmets with whites on the forehead, backed by small round mirrors to brighten and focus the light. The third miner actually had a long pole sporting the largest white crystal Nav Jespon had ever seen. With all these lights, the blackened hole in the wall became a tunnel that went off at an angle from their current path. Without any cajoling, the group of people started to follow them.

  While the Mayor and his family lead the way with Dahn, Karl chose to stay behind and ensure everyone got in alright. The navi stayed with Karl, not as much out of concern for Dashman as it was his weakness. He was starting to feel dizzy from the loss of blood and he was pretty certain how things were about to go for him.

  “Still think they’re crazy,” Neemin mumbled at the navi’s side. I went clear to the far side of that shaft. Didn’t find nothin’.”

  The navi was about to tell the old miner something about faith when they all froze at the sound of a shrieking cry. In the echoing mines it was often difficult to tell where sounds came from, but this one was not from the dark shaft into which the surviving Hylanders had entered. It was from behind them.

  “They are inside the mines,” Karl said, matter-of-factly. “Shrewd move. Force us in here, cut off our retreat, and fall upon us before we can get to the minecarts.”

  “Not just that, Karl,” Neemin said, sounding strangely meek. “Take a look-see over there.” The miner pointed at the walls of the passage that went forward toward the minecarts, the ones waiting to take them to Lolan.

  “What am I looking at?” Karl asked.

  “Them scratches in the walls, they ain’t from any minin’ tools.” Neemin looked back at Karl and the navi and sighed. “Them is claw marks.”

  “They’re already there, at the railway to Lolan,” Navi Jespon said, weakly. "They’ve been waiting for us.”

  “Part of them to chase us, the rest to trap and destroy us,” Karl spat. “Abominable. But clever. Very clever.”

  “So, your little girl was right to get upset,” Neemin told the Dashman. “If we’d a-gone that a-way …”

  No one said anything for several seconds amidst sounds of demonspawn making their way towards them.

  “We must protect our people,” Karl told them, looking each of them in eye. “The three of us must follow the original course and distract the demonspawn who are chasing us. If we can do that, maybe the rest can escape unnoticed.”

  “No!” shouted the miner and the navi at the same time.

  “Karl,” Navi Jespon pleaded, “you must follow them out. Not only because you are one of the best leaders our little mining town has ever known, but because your daughter needs you!”

  “Yep,” said Neemin. “What he said.” The miner looked that blood pooling on the ground beneath the navi. “The navi and I can lead them away. You go be with your family. Help the others survive.”

  “You have to go now, Karl!” Jespon told him, urgently. “The ones chasing us are getting very close! Go! Go!”

  And without so much as a wave, Karl sprinted into the darkness, following the crowd who could no long be seen.

  “Come on, Oldtimer,” Neemin said to the navi, putting his arm around the spiritual leader’s shoulders and propping him up on one hip. Together, they began a slow descent into the railway area of the mines, Navi Jespon trailing blood as he did so.

  “Who are you calling Oldtimer, Neemin?” the navi demanded, weakly. “We grew up together. I’m pretty sure you’re a couple of years older than me.”

  “True that,” the grizzled old miner admitted. “Still true through, ain’t it. We’re both oldtimers!”

  The tunnel around the navi began to sway and darken. He was losing consciousness, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. Jespon turned to his companion and said, “I think I’ve always misjudged you, Neemin.”

  “Nah, you haven’t,” said the miner with a gap-toothed grin. “I’m a rotten ol’ bastard. Never married, but I had two kids anyway. Their mom passed a long time ago. But I got a grandkid or two who are gonna live thanks to us. So, I figure, maybe my life’s worth somethin’ after all.”

  “Everyone’s life is worth something,” Navi Jespon said as he heard the gallop of demon feet scampering down the path behind them and up the path in front of them. “Even ours.”

  Then everything went black.