IN WHICH WE TAKE A PLEASANT STROLL BY THE RIVER.

Two people died during the night. One was a young man who had been heavily injured during the escape from the citadel, and died from bleeding on the inside. The other was an old woman, who was found covered in frost, sitting up against a tree, eyes closed, with a smile upon her dead face. John gave the sermons, one after the other. He was getting far too good at those, his voice took on the calm, assured tone that the Radiant priests always had up on the pulpit. But he didn't raise himself up above the other survivors, he dug the forest graves himself, cutting through gnarled tree-roots with great heaving strokes of the shovel. "We will mark these places, and return. They will not be cast aside. They will not be forgotten." he said, at last.

His tone was bleak towards the end of his speech, but to be entirely honest, only losing two of our group, as the jaws of winter were already biting down? Practically a miracle. The worse death toll could be found in a line of charred furry corpses all the way around the outskirts of the campsite. A network of carved runes dotted the tree trunks in a jagged ring, each etched tree was markedly grey and sickly, dropping unseasonal curled-up leaves, while the other trees waved green in the morning breeze. The critters were all scorched to indistinguishable lumps, except for a much larger one that was clearly created by HIM. John joined the rest of us after the two graves were filled in. "And if a child had walked between the runes? What then?"

Zephyr was draped in the branches of a near-dead tree, looking like a blue haze folding through the scraps of remaining leaves.

"During the day, the runes are inactive. During the night, dead. Instantly. Unless they were suitably shielded, or a chosen of the light or-"

"Yes, yes, they'd be dead, and what then? What would we tell the parents?"

"That... we now understand, John. You were asking me if my decision to shield the campsite this way was not taking into account the risk of a child interfering with the runes."

"Do you? Do you really understand?"

"We do. A child could have gone wandering in the night, or perhaps gotten lost, or someone may have been confused and walked in the wrong direction."

John seemed to have let some of the anger out of his face, and now he just looked sad.

"Yes," continued Zephyr, "if a child, or almost any of the people under our protection, was to wander out into the forest, at night, they would die. This is the case whether the ground was ensorcelled or not. That is how the decision was made. In fact," they ground on inexorably "a child may instead have been captured alive. A child, with living family amongst the people we are trying to protect. Captured alive, John, by HIS forces. We all know how that goes."

John didn't have anything to say to that, just looked down at the line of incinerated grass and fur. Alaxoria coughed, and excused herself to go hunting.

Keller jumped in instead. "Zephyr, what if we remade the city wards?"

"Then the campsite would be protected."

"Yes, but, could we? I mean, could you?"

"No."

"No? Why not, I've seen you cast a greater negation shield in under a second. Surely you can handle the wards."

Zephyr drifted through the canopy, draping down limbs that touched the marked glyphs down on the trunks. Each glowed a matching blue, showing where the inner-carved glyphs twisted deep into the sap channels.

"After the citadel wards were broken, shattered by me the second time, do you remember? The high deans fixed them a third, new way, and encoded the sigils specifically to prevent me from ever perceiving them." John looked a little stricken. He never liked being reminded of that particular time, even more so after the morning of burials and buried arguments between the five of us. He stepped back, and headed away towards the campsite, muttering something, holding one hand to his face.

"So," Keller was drawing random circles in the dirt with a stick, eyes far away. "The previous warding, whaddaya call them, warding schemas? Those will do just fine, we don't need protection from HIM anymore, the earlier versions did just fine against rogue mountain spirits or dark mages or whatever."

"Yes. In theory, the earlier, less refined warding schemas will be sufficient to protect us against a portion of threats. Under most circumstances. Assuming nothing unforeseen. Which-"

Keller waved his hands "I'm going to stop listening after that 'yes', and just leave you to it."

Zephyr did a swoop, sucking up their loose limbs and hovering in front of the rest of us. "The process will require both mortal and non-mortal assistance."

I looked back at the campsite, at the ravaged remains of the citadel population. "There should be..." I thought to myself aloud, "There should be some apprentices that weren't in the tower when it, um, went. The youngest, and least experienced apprentices wouldn't have been called to war-footing."

"Then these remaining apprentices are about to have a very efficient and thorough education. They will be located shortly." Zephyr drifted away towards the campsite, twisting around to face us as they manifested two arms, two legs and a bright, kindly smile. Bright, as in, glaring off of the white peeling bark of the trees. "How do we look?" I gave a wan grin and Keller gave Zephyr two thumbs up.

"Those kids aren't going to know what hit them," muttered Keller out the side of his mouth. I muffled a giggle while Keller took me by the shoulder. "Come on, I've got something to show you."

----------------------------------------

In the daylight, stripped of the cloak of night and open for all to see, the woods were quiet, peaceful, even relaxing. Even after all the time the five of us had spent fighting actual monsters, the darkness outside the circle of firelight never lost the sting of fear, never ceased to be haunted with halfseen apparitions. As I walked beneath the trees with Keller by my side, followed by nothing but the occasional croak of a corvid, I felt... better. Keller knew me, he knew me well, and he never spoke when I didn't feel like speaking back.

The undergrowth was a mix of tangled brush and dropped branches, so we followed meandering game-trails, climbed over the less thorny sections, and found axe-bit paths from the foraging groups that John had sent out yesterday. We were travelling gently downhill, the sun was warm and dappled on my face, Keller by my side. He reached out and grabbed me by the arm just as I tripped on an exposed tree root, leaving me swinging for a moment in his vicelike grip, before pulling me back up. "Careful," he chided. "I thought you were going to step over that." I rubbed my forearm, the scar on his middle finger was a thick gnarled ring, and had left a shallow dent in my skin. "Thanks," I shrugged, and that was all we said the rest of the way down to the water.

The river was just as bad as when I last saw it, shackled by HIS side, but now I could look at it pragmatically. The water was solid black from shore to shore, the soil on the banks turned smoothly from mud brown to ink, merging seamlessly with the liquid. The surface didn't ripple in the wind, didn't churn with whirls beneath the surface, I couldn't tell if the river was even flowing, for all I knew it was stuck fast like gelatinous blood. "Here, watch this," said Keller, hefting a pebble. It arced through the air, landing with a meaty plob. The impact left a swirling dent in the water, there was some kind of thick layer congealing on the top. It all flowed downstream at half the speed it normally would for a river this size. "And now, for my next trick," he plucked a dagger out of nowhere, and pricked the skin on the back of his forearm. A single bead welled, and he smeared a second pebble. "Watch closely, this is freaky." The second stone followed the path of the first, and the river just.

Erupted.

Fins, flippers, tentacles, tendrils, tails and teeth, all of it bubbling and frothing and latching down on each other in suicidal haste to get at the bait-pebble.

Just for a second. Then, the ripples wobbled their way to either shore, and the river slowly flowed onwards, dripping towards the ocean.

"It's, well, there it is." said Keller, waving one arm the length of the river. "I wouldn't like to try building a bridge over it, even. But I've seen one of those boats with the cauldron, paddling up and down. Could be worthwhile figuring out how those don't get eaten." I stared at the spot where the pebble had landed, where the carnage had frothed to the surface. The river looked back at me, implacable, unchanging.

"Or we could," I swallowed, mouth dry for no reason. "You know. Leave it well enough alone? I have no idea what HE did to manipulate an entire river of fish into- those things, but I have no desire whatsoever to give them a free meal."

"Relax," said Keller jovially "there are so many other things that could kill us. Say, we could just be standing out here, and a mountain spirit could decide to smear us across half the countryside. All we have to do is stay out of the water, and we'll be fine. And if we do need to get in there, those fishies? Pfah, no trouble at all."

"... wanna bet." I looked away from the river for the first time, staring daggers at Keller.

"What?"

"Bet me. That you can fight a whole river of, those aren't fish, a whole river of whatever those are. And! That it's no trouble. No healing from Zephyr afterwards, say."

Keller turned to look out at the river again. The water looked like the finest, smoothest road imaginable, perfect for a carriage to roll along on a crisp Spring day.

"No bet. And if they aren't fish, what are they?"

"I don't know. Ask Zephyr."

"Rather not. I've got things to do this week rather than listen to a lecture on bio-alchemical recombination."

I gave him a straight punch to the shoulder "Look at you! Knowing all the jargon. That means big words, by the way."

He grabbed me and pulled me a pace towards the river, until we were both laughing.

----------------------------------------

Back in camp, Alaxoria was like some kind of feral hoarding beast, bringing in dead pigs, slain deer and even a bear carcass, piling them up next to the smouldering remains of the bonfire from last night before scurrying back out again into the woods. We were lucky that the lands near the citadel were left almost entirely wild and untamed, the fields that once fed the population were scattered across the lands, the grain coming in via wizard-built portal. Truly, we had lived through an age of miracles. Now, we had the bounty of the wilderness, and Alaxoria to funnel it into the hungry mouths of the survivors. Helmets and shields had been hammered into makeshift pots, and Zephyr was in the centre of the campsite performing a continuous water-calling. "This is remarkably boring," they said, as Keller and I approached. "The difficulty of avoiding the contaminated waterline does not at all render the task interesting or educational in any way, shape, or form. Curious. Or at least, it was curious. Now, boredom. There are more useful tasks that could be achieved. Do you not agree?"

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Keller made some noises and slinked off, leaving me to deal with the grouchy ball of arcane power. "Well, I'm sure John wouldn't have set this task if it wasn't for good reason."

"You are sure? John has been known to badly prioritise resources in the past. And more recently as well."

"I. Well, I trust him. And don't all these people look so much happier now that they have food and water?"

The soup line stretched clear across the campsite, but nearly everyone was busy. Teams were heading out to forage in the undergrowth, each led by a swaggering soldier, while even the youngest children were plucking through piles of wormgrass to shed the bitter stems. Everyone looked dirty, tired... but resolute, all the same. "Speaking of, where is John?"

"He did not say. It is likely that he is gone off to meditate."

I sucked my teeth at that. The deaths of nearly the whole citadel, the pleas for mercy and succour and vengeance from an entire slaughtered city...

I didn't know whether to go looking for John, or to leave him to deal with the aftershocks by himself, in peace.

I'd talk to him when he came back. For now, I slipped through the campsite, smiling to everyone and speaking to a few people, and listened to the ones that spoke behind my back. There was a nice little trick I had learned years back for just that purpose. Once I settled into the mind-stance, I could hear the furtive whispers of anyone that was looking directly at me.

"-nothing left afterwards-"

"-that's Lady Susan, you know-"

"-black hearted rogue-"

"-she never made it back after-"

"-shape shifting monster-"

"-never going to-"

"-I wonder if she's got any food, proper grub you know, none of this filth-"

"-murderer-"

"-the prince, the old one you know?-"

"-I heard she-"

"-can't get it, wait, what, how are you? How are you doing that?-"

I stopped walking, the young man next to me had made some kind of joke about the duchess and a horse, but I was so startled I completely forget to laugh. He stumbled forward a few paces, looking at me in confusion. I turned away, trying to catch the eye of whoever had been whispering, while looking at me. Whoever it was, they had caught my presence in the process. Somehow.

The farmers and tailors and mothers and market-boys and cobblers and chandlers that made up the common folk of the citadel were all busily engaged in the business of survival, not gossiping about the dreaded "Lady" Susan and staring at the back of her head. I honestly didn't mind. Honest. I just needed to figure out who in any kind of hell had noticed me listening in.

It was disquieting, knowing that someone in amongst the hundreds of innocent civilians had that kind of potential. I had probably seen their face ten times before, and knew them not.

----------------------------------------

John came back eventually, face set, eyes forward, stepping carefully around each person that crossed his path without really noticing them. "Multiple prayers, heartfelt thanks. Approximately five, unless they are more numerous and weaker in strength." He said, standing over me, the sun behind his head casting his face into shadow and illuminating his blond mop of hair. He turned to the young woman I was sitting next to and gave her a smile, all teeth, no joy. "Good day to you, miss. I am afraid I will need to take my colleague from you, by your leave."

The miss in question was called Hedda, and had no idea where her family was. She responded exactly as you'd expect from being addressed by the dashing hero of the citadel, the vengeful right arm of Her Radiance, and a powerfully built knight in gleaming plate. As in, she didn't respond, merely blushed and stammered and tried to curtesy while still sitting down.

I left with John, leaning in close. He was breathing quickly, eyes jumping in their sockets. The meditation had not gone well. "Five. Just five. Out of all the faithful of the whole citadel." He repeated. Then, repeated again.

I brushed against his armoured forearm with the back of my hand, but he didn't even notice.

"That you know of," I said softly, eyes scanning. Someone might be listening. It did nobody any good to spread the word that the Radiant faith had been cut off at the knees and neck. "Others may have yet to meditate as you have, or be far enough away that you cannot feel them."

Or, they might not be willing to open themselves up to the quagmire of a million prayers spat from between dying lips.

Or, perhaps they had no thanks to give to Her Radiance for the cataclysm that had devoured their families, their lives, and left them stranded on a barren shore.

Or, the surviving priests had seen it unfold before their very eyes, seen the world end, and discovered they had no faith left in their hearts.

I said nothing else. John was smart. He would've thought his way through those same options as well.

"And I'm sure there will be many lay worshippers that she can hear, but you cannot." He smiled at that, and it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

"Of course! After the evening meal, I will lead a ceremony. Send their prayers with mine to be heard by those beyond and far away. And, and again, another gathering before the dawn. A message of hope and faith, for those that can listen, to counteract the-"

The cloud was still there, though.

"The noise. The noise, Susan. You can't imagine the sound of it all. It was like opening a letter, addressed to Her Radiance, and all that was inside... not even screams."

----------------------------------------

Alaxoria looked almost as dead as the pile of feral meat she had stacked up in the centre of the campsite. She had flecks of spittle streaking either side of her mouth, staring up at the sky as the stars came into view in twos and threes. Then, she breathed, like the tide coming back in.

"Are you...?" I didn't even know what question to ask as I looked down at her. Her eyes snapped to mine, and she blinked a few times until her eyelids moved in the usual order.

"I'm. I'm alright. Just. Just very tired. I think I will just."

"Alaxoria. Ala?"

Soft snores came up, and she slowly spread out as her arms and legs relaxed. Her muscles had all been completely tensed, up until the very moment of full slumber. One of her arms came to rest on a haunch of meat. She was surrounded by the stuff, tremendous creatures plucked out of the wilderness and stacked in delicious charnel piles. Soldiers and cooks stood around, staring at her like they'd seen a ghost. Or a god. It was all well and good seeing Zephyr flit around, conjuring up the storm and bringing it to bear, but Alaxoria was mortal, just like them. She knew no spells, but did the impossible anyway. It boggled the mind.

Keller smiled down at her. "Do we just... leave her here? Next to all the meat?"

"Maybe the smell of cooking will wake her up."

"Yeah, maybe. Or she might start sleep-walking."

"Sleep-eating. That'd be a shame, if she ate a whole herd of pigs after going to all that trouble of catching them." I laughed, quietly, so as not to wake her.

"Pigs? You call these pigs?" Keller patted a hand against the flank of one of the carcasses, wiping his hand of a bit of spilled blood.

"Well... large pigs. Huge pigs. That regal boar she caught has messed me up. Everything else, looks small in comparison."

"Except her."

"Mm. Except her."

John and Zephyr were helping a band of strong men lash thick branches to the trunk of the stoutest oak tree in sight. Sweat on bare backs gleamed in the flames of the cooking fires, while Zephyr conjured black nails that shot into the trunk of the tree without a sound. That was definitely a combat spell, with a tweak or two. A young woman sat nearby, heavily pregnant, a one-handed man had his full arm around her shoulders. She was crying, thanking John over and over again, while the man just looked at her. Concern had etched deep lines into his brow before his time. Life went on, I suppose. Life had no time for such petty things as the fall of civilisation. I was no midwife, but from the look of her, the baby would come any day now. The shelter was going up faster than any structure I'd ever seen, setting the oak tree to creaking. And if it was a little lopsided, well, all the better to have rain run off one side rather than pooling and leaking. Smaller branches with the leaves left on were woven in-between the thicker boughs of wood, until the space underneath was a cosy little nook. Zephyr rolled up a ball of warm yellow light and tucked into a knothole in the tree, a tiny lamp "to last the night", they said. I had never seen Zephyr do something so nice to anyone that wasn't, well, wasn't the four of us.

I felt a lightness in my chest. The crackling of grease and mouth-watering scents that issued from the great cook pots pulled me inexorably towards the centre of camp. All around me were people, moving, shifting, lifting, making, cooking. Helping each other. The night was bright.

Maybe things would be alright.

----------------------------------------

Something else smelled the roasting food. Something else saw the fires that lit the night. Something else watched us, we mortals, living and praying in the bowels of the forest. But I didn't notice it.