Just a little longer. Come, Ana. You have a little left in you. Not far now.

  Ana couldn’t tell if it was her own inner voice or the Wayfarer’s. Hell, she could barely tell if she was dead or alive. The way everything hurt suggested the latter, but she had no proof that hell wasn’t real, so she couldn’t say for sure. It might well be that she’d fallen over dead from exhaustion, her heart seizing, her brain starved of glucose and oxygen, and that her damned soul hadn’t noticed and would keep right on running through the surreal forest that surrounded her until the end of time.

  She could swear that the forest itself was out to get her. Trees bent down to snatch at her with their branches and lifted their roots to trip her, the sun strobing beyond their leaves. Streams changed their courses and grew wider or deeper in their attempts to bog her down or drown her. And constantly, wherever she ran, there were voices and laughter. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she knew that they were laughing at her. Laughing at how she struggled and suffered, just to live for a few more moments. Just to buy Messy and everyone else just a little more time.

  She’d been running circles in the forest for… she had to think hard about that. It had been night until a while ago. That had been the second night. So she’d been running, nonstop, for over forty-eight hours now. Or thereabouts. Time and math were… things. She knew that there were people on Earth who ran for hundreds of miles, regularly and for fun of all things, but she was pretty sure that they were taking regular breaks and also not maintaining a speed in the vicinity of twenty miles per hour.

  In all that time she’d only had what was left of her dry rations to eat, and what had been in her waterskin to drink. She was beyond hunger at this point, but even through the exhaustion she could feel how parched she was. That, more than anything else, was what had made her turn for the outpost. At least she thought so. Thinking was slow, her thoughts slippery. She couldn’t say what had gone into the decision to run for home—maybe there had been a voice telling her to? But it was the thirst that kept her from turning off the path.

  She couldn’t stop to drink, because the demon would get her. But if she didn’t drink something soon, she’d collapse, and then the demon would get her anyway. She couldn’t use her wings to fly ahead to buy herself time, because that risked breaking combat, dropping her bonuses, and killing her. And she couldn’t stop and fight, because while she was keeping ahead of the demon, it wasn’t tired. She knew that it wasn’t. It was limited in how fast it could run because of the crippling wound she’d dealt to its hip, but it wasn’t tired. Not at all. It would keep going forever, and ever, and ever, and…

  “Marshal!” A long, taunting hiss snapped Ana out of her reverie, and the world into bright focus. Her eyes had been closing, she realized. She’d been about to fall asleep, still running, and that would have been it. And she must have been slowing down, too, because the raspy mockery of Rill’s voice had come from close behind her, much too close. She risked a quick glance behind her, and yeah, there the demon was, fifteen, maybe twenty feet behind her. Its ice-blue eyes burned with malice and anticipation, and when they locked eyes for just the briefest moment, it grinned, that far too wide grin with all the sharp teeth.

  “Eat you, Marshal!” it called after her, and Ana could have sworn that it picked up speed.

  She did the same, but it was hard. It was so damn hard. She’d lost her weapon and buckler at the beginning of the fight; she’d flung her pack behind her once the food and water were gone. She’d dropped her Ironskin at some point; she couldn’t say when. Probably when it became too hard to focus on the Shaping. It was for the best anyway; she couldn’t fight, and it had been a steady drain on her limited and slowly vanishing reserves.

  All she had left to give up, to give her another microscopic edge, was what she was wearing. She’d toyed with the idea of losing her armor. It weighed fifteen pounds or so, but fit her so well that it felt more like a good, breathable jacket than anything. Getting it on and off was easy; all she had to do was to loosen some straps and pull it over her head. But she couldn’t do it. She told herself that the risk of stumbling wasn’t worth it, that it had stopped Rill’s sword before and might do so again if the demon caught up, but she knew that wasn’t it. Her armor was important to her. It was the Wayfarer’s apology and promise to her, a tangible symbol that someone was looking out for her, and Ana refused to part with it.

  If it’s life or death, you should drop it.

  Again, she really couldn’t tell if the thought was her own, or if the Wayfarer was speaking to her.

  Won’t, she replied. It didn’t matter in the moment if she was talking to herself. It felt good to affirm that no, she would not be getting rid of her armor. It was important.

  Alright. Shouldn’t matter anyway. Not much farther to go now. A few miles, that’s it.

  Miles, Ana thought. That would take so long. Or… no, she was going pretty fast, wasn’t she? Maybe not. It was hard to tell how fast she was going with how narrow her field of vision had become.

  “Stop, Marshal!” the demon cackled behind her. “Time to rest! Time to die!”

  Rest, she thought. God, that sounded nice. But then the other voice, the one that might or might not be her own said, Almost there. Just another minute, and you’ll be safe. You can rest. Give it everything you have! Now!

  A minute. A minute was so long. And the demon was right there, right behind her, ready to put an end to this hell Ana had put herself in. But why not do what the voice wanted? Getting to rest and live sounded better than resting because she was dead. And if it didn’t work out, she’d be too worn down to stay alive. She’d get to stop either way.

  Ana put every last bit of herself into a final sprint. This was it. Make-or-break. Live or die. She aimed right for her Party, who were…

  They weren’t all straight ahead anymore. Huh. That was odd.

  The mana around Ana surged, so much Earth-mana that Ana thought she might drown in it, and she was pretty sure that she was hallucinating because suddenly the Earthbreaker was right there by the path. There came a bone-rattling roar from behind her, the sound of stone grinding on stone and of trees shattering and falling, and a frustrated howl of, “MARSHAL!” from the demon pursuing her. As she continued she was dimly aware of people all around her, and then her Party was behind her somehow, and she stumbled as she automatically turned to try to follow her sense of where home, and safety, and comfort, and Messy was.

  For the first time in two days, Ana’s Agility and Perfect Balance failed her. They needed something to work with, and she had nothing left to give. The world turned on its side. Ana rolled in the moss and leaves, coming to a hard stop halfway through a dense bush of some sort. The world exploded into shouts and light and noise and confusion, but Ana barely noticed. Her eyes closed. She could finally rest.

  For not the first time since being dragged into the Splinter, Ana was surprised to wake up. Not by how or where she woke up, but by the fact that she woke up at all. She’d fully expected to die, either on her feet when her heart burst or she had a massive stroke or simply from her brain dying from a lack of sugar, or when she slowed too much or stumbled, letting the demon catch her. Apparently, none of those had happened.

  She did feel like shit run through a woodchipper, though, so maybe being alive wasn’t such a good thing. She’d need a moment to make her mind up.

  Opening her eyes was beyond her at the moment, but sounds and smells slowly filtered in. She was still in the forest. That much was clear from the rich scent of loam and decomposing leaves, and of wood and pine. That part was nice. Calming. So was the smell of food. The blood and shit and the burnt pork smell she’d come to associate with funeral pyres, not so much.

  Those scents were accompanied by moans and whimpers, and soft, soothing voices. Crackling fires, and people mourning and celebrating and planning and just talking. Quite a few people; far too many to tell apart. So a largish camp. She couldn’t hear or smell Messy. That was disappointing. But she was nearby; Ana could tell by how the direction she was in slowly changed. The same was true for her whole Party; they were close together, and moving. Patrolling, most likely.

  Things slotted together with incredible slowness as memories surfaced from the depths of her exhaustion. She’d been running from the demon, trying to keep it away from the outpost long enough for someone to do something. She’d passed out; she wasn’t at all sure when or how. But she was alive, in a camp, and people had been hurt. Killed, probably. And Messy and the rest of the Delving Party were there.

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  Her Party had made it to the outpost. And then the outpost had come for her. They’d saved her.

  Slowly, silently, Ana began to cry.

  “Hush, Miss Ana. It’s alright. You’re alright,” a soft male voice murmured. A cool cloth wiped her tears before being placed on her forehead. “Do you want something to drink?”

  Without answering, without even opening her eyes, Ana nodded. She couldn’t say if she was ashamed of being seen crying, or if she just couldn’t muster up the energy. Moving her head made her whole body burn, but at the mention of something to drink she felt like she might die of thirst in the next few seconds, so she kept doing it.

  “Alright,” the man said. “I’ll fetch you something. But don’t be surprised if it’s Mistress Touanne who brings it; she’ll want to know that you’re awake.”

  “Maro?” Ana managed a weak whisper as a name came to her, connected to the voice.

  “Yes, Miss Ana. That’s me.”

  “‘ank you.”

  “Not at all. Now keep resting. You’ve earned it.”

  Ana must have switched off at that point, because the next thing she knew there was the rustle of fabric and boots shifting the pine needles beside her.

  “Ana?” came Touanne’s voice. It was accompanied by the gentle concern of her aura, and the scent of herbs and flowers and something chemical, though not unpleasant, that always hung around the Healer.

  “Tou,” Ana rattled in reply. She finally, after much effort, forced her eyes open, and there was Touanne, in all her caring, worn out glory. Her dress was speckled with blood, and her face was wan, but she looked as attentive as ever.

  She held a mug in her hands, steaming and fragrant. Ana tried to force herself upright, but it was slow going. Touanne was there in a moment, shifting over to put an arm under her shoulders and help her up.

  “There. There you go.” The Healer muttered her encouragement as she easily held Ana up with one arm. Touanne, just like Messy, sometimes surprised Ana with how strong she was. Neither woman was waifish in any way, but even after over three months in this place Ana’s mind hadn’t quite recalibrated to disassociate appearance from physical ability. Touanne’s Base Strength was probably lower than Ana’s—Messy’s certainly was—but nothing about your appearance changed when you increased an Attribute Multiplier. And hell, for all Ana knew Healers might get some Ability that massively increased their Strength and Endurance as long as they were rendering aid or caring for a patient. It wouldn’t surprise her.

  All that to say, while Ana doubted her own ability to even sit up on her own right then, Touanne could hold Ana up all day if necessary.

  Then Touanne offered Ana the mug, and Ana’s arms shook too much to hold it.

  “That’s alright,” Touanne said with infinite patience. “Here. Slowly now.” She held the mug to Ana’s lips, letting her drink, and once the mug was drained she refilled it from a pot that sat next to her on the forest floor, letting Ana drink that too.

  The steam and whatever was in the tea made Ana’s mouth and throat feel better in an instant, and she managed a “Thank you” without croaking.

  “You’re quite welcome,” Touanne answered kindly. Then after a short moment’s pause she said, “Knowing you, you’ll have questions.”

  “How long?”

  “Since we found you?”

  Ana nodded. Carefully.

  “It’s coming on noon, so two hours or thereabouts.”

  “Rill? The demon?”

  “Still alive, I’m afraid,” Touanne said, looking down and shaking her head. “We lost three, with twelve more injured. Then it took off, less one arm.”

  “It fled?” Ana asked. She couldn’t quite put all the shock she felt into her words, but shocked, she was. She’d never seen a demon retreat.

  “The sapient possessed are… cunning. Far more so than any other demon. It’s part of what makes them so dangerous. We’re debating whether we should return to the outpost as quickly as possible, in case it tries to go around us, or try to hunt it down.”

  “Right. The outpost. All civilians?”

  “All civilians,” Touanne confirmed.

  Yeah. Ana could definitely see the demon simply ignoring them and going to lay waste to their home and slaughter anyone who stayed behind. It just seemed like the kind of thing it would do. On the other hand, it might now be so focused on her that it wouldn’t want to leave its prey. Gods only knew.

  Leaving that to the more knowledgeable among them, Ana asked, “The dead. Anyone…”

  Touanne sagged a little, the subject of those they’d lost weighing her down. “No one that you knew well, as far as I’m aware,” she said, her voice subdued. “Though I imagine you’d know them if you saw them. They’d all trained with you, after all.”

  “Yeah.” Ana nodded. They would have.

  “Among the injured, both Mister Waller and Mister Brosden were hurt rather severely keeping the demon from reaching Kaira and Denikla. Captain Pirta had her arm broken, and it’s a blessing she didn’t lose it outright. And… well, you should know that one of the mercenaries—”

  “The mercs are here?” Ana asked, no less shocked by that than by the demon’s retreat. A blurry memory of seeing Haytham Talleh, and the noise of the earth splitting and stone grinding came to her, but there was no sense of reality to tell her that it had actually happened. Evidently, it must have.

  “They are,” Touanne replied. “And, as I was saying, Miss Aaspiyah, the Iron Warrior, was injured rather badly as well. She was instrumental in locking the demon down so everyone else could try and destroy it, and, well… she was perhaps more aggressive than she should have been.”

  Ana snorted. That didn’t surprise her. Not that she cared. She only didn’t say what she thought of the mage or her survival because she liked Touanne, and Touanne had presumably struggled to save the woman.

  “She’ll recover,” Touanne added, then dropped the subject. After what the Iron Warrior had done to Messy and Rayni, Touanne knew full well what Ana would do to her if there’d been nothing holding her back.

  Ana was more than willing to drop it. There were more important things to talk about. “What about me?” she asked. “When can I get back in the fight?”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like I should be dead. It’s hard to stay awake. Hard to move. To breathe.”

  “Ana, it’s been over two days since Messy and the others left you. Have you been running all that time?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With no rest? Did you have anything to eat? Drink?”

  “Couldn’t stop. Had a healing potion, a skin of water, and some dry rations.”

  “The potion, that was for the cut in your armpit?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Ana had forgotten about that. Odd how she’d remembered drinking the potion, but not why. She turned her head to look, and there was a sling around her neck holding a bandage in place under her right armpit, probably with a poultice. Her whole body was such a mess that she hadn’t even felt it.

  “So you ran for two days and nights with no rest, having lost more blood than I care to think about. That on some dried meat and bread, a few mouthfuls of water, and a healing potion. Ana, your feeling isn’t wrong. You should be dead, and I am overjoyed that you’re not.”

  Ana forced a weak smile. “So… how long?”

  “You’re impossible,” Touanne replied with an equally weak laugh. “That depends on how much food and drink we can force into you, and how much proper rest you can get. Anyone else who miraculously managed to survive what you just did… I’d say a week at least. You, as long as I stay close enough to always keep you in range of Fount of Life? I can’t say, but it wouldn’t surprise me if I find you gone the next time I look for you.”

  The last was said with a pointed look, and a tone that, though fond, carried a promise of intense disapproval if her prediction turned out to be true.

  “I’ll ask your permission before getting up,” Ana promised. Then, after a short pause, she added, “Unless something happens.”

  “Unless something happens,” Touanne agreed with a sigh. “Thank you. Do you feel up to eating?”

  “I—” I really just want to sleep, was what Ana had been about to say, but after a bit of liquid the mention of food made her stomach cramp with need. “I may need some help,” she said instead.

  “Of course. Would you be alright with Maro helping you? Otherwise… Messy and Jisha are on patrol, and Kaira’s with Brosden, but I may be able to find—”

  “Maro will be fine, if he has time,” Ana said, laying a hand on Touanne’s knee. Even that was a lot of effort. And no wonder. She may not have used her arms for anything but balance as she ran, but how many tens of thousands of calories must she have burned? It wasn’t like she’d had a lot of reserves to draw on, even if she’d stopped paying attention to what she ate practically the moment she got here.

  “I’ll tell him, then,” Touanne said, patting Ana’s hand before gently laying her back down. Then she took the mug and the pot and rose smoothly to her feet.

  “Hey, Tou,” Ana said as Touanne turned away. “Before you go…”

  She sent an invitation to her Party. Touanne got a faraway look in her eyes, then smiled tiredly and accepted. She gasped softly, her legs almost folding as the bonus Endurance and Vitality hit her, and when she stood straight again her smile was a little wider, and her eyes a little less tired. “Thank you,” she said, smiling down at Ana as her aura radiated gratitude and affection.

  “Yeah, you looked like you needed it,” Ana said. “Companionship helps with mana depletion, too, if you ever take a moment to rest.” She tried to mimic Touanne’s pointed look, and from the way the Healer laughed, she must have done a pretty good job.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Touanne said. “Now, Messy will likely come to check on you the moment she’s back from patrolling. You are to rest! Remember that!”

  “Sure,” Ana agreed with a tired, but genuine laugh. “I’ll remember.”

  and read 8 chapters ahead of both Splinter Angel and Draka! You also get to read anything else I’m trying out — which is how Splinter Angel got started.

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