“Hold them off! Hold the bastards off!”

  The Doren rescue had not gone smoothly — perhaps the thunder that rolled almost as soon as they walked out the gate, accompanied by a shockwave that swept the clouds from the sky, had been a bad omen. The response from the forest had come as soon as they left the walls, and Ana had had a choice between calling the whole thing off or taking a huge risk. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was fear for the effect on people's morale. Maybe, and she would never have considered this if not for Messy's words an hour earlier, she wanted the admiration that had come with the last two successful rescues.

  Figuring out her own motivations would have to wait, because they were currently in a fighting retreat and constantly at risk of being flanked, overwhelmed, or both.

  The Dorens were safe. That much was accomplished. The family of four, plus one hired hand, were halfway to the wall with no crazies on their heels. And the militia was holding. Tellak, Simt and Rill had the right flank, and Ana and her Party the left, while the whole line slowly fell back. The support casters did their best to break up the horde, and the backliners did their part, firing through any gap that opened and picking off anyone that tried to go around the flanks. Dead and broken crazies — People, Ana reminded herself. Victims — littered the ground. The noise was sickening.

  But it couldn't last. Ana’s Party fought tirelessly, but she was holding that flank nearly on her own. If she left, it would collapse. They were seriously outnumbered, and they’d already taken their first real injury, one of the less experienced fighters having been caught out and clawed across the face. The woman’s eyes were fine, and she was back on the line, with three wicked gashes from forehead to chin. But more crazies were coming, and people, except for Ana’s own Party, were getting tired.

  It couldn't last. And then the treeline to the north-west shifted, and things went from bad to worse. There was another huge pack of crazies coming, the dark, lumbering forms of demons among them, and they were already only minutes away.

  “Backline!” Ana’s voice at full volume cut through the noise of battle, of screaming militia and howling crazies. “On my order, fall back two hundred feet, then prepare to cover us! Support and frontline, prepare to make an opening and run! On my order, hit them with everything you've got to make some space! Understood?”

  A chorus of ragged confirmations answered her, staggered as her fighters gave voice when they had a moment to breathe.

  “Backline, move!”

  There were a final few shots over and between the frontliners, and then the archers and ranged damage mages turned and ran. A few of the crazies on Ana’s flank that weren’t engaged took notice and started to move after them.

  Ana turned to the woman fighting next to her. “Petra! You’re the new anchor for this flank! Hold until I get back!”

  Petra’s eyes were wild. “What?”

  “Just hold!” Ana barked, and then she was off and among the group pursuing the backliners, the press of enemies closing behind her.

  Two of the crazies were dead before they knew it, and the others didn’t stand much chance as Ana hacked, hammered, kicked, and slammed. But even as the last of the pursuers fell, Ana could see Petra and the fighters with her being pushed back. Without the back line softening up the enemy, they were being crushed by sheer weight of numbers. A high leap let Ana see the rest of the line. It was faring no better. The right flank was being pushed in as well, while the center looked at risk of collapsing inward. All along the line, fighters flinched or fell back entirely as lucky strikes from the crazies reached them.

  It was time to go.

  “Prepare to push, then fall back!” she called over the noise, smashing her way back toward the others. “Anything you have to make space! On my order!” Clawed hands grabbed and raked at her, and she ducked, dodged, leaped and blocked as her hammer-axe rose and fell, bulldozing a path back to her own lines. Then she was face to face with Petra. The older woman raised her own hammer, only realizing who was in front of her as she struck. The wild look in her eyes turned to horror, and then relief as Ana easily dodged, using the momentum of her turn to strike down a crazy coming at her from behind.

  “Now!” Ana’s voice boomed above the noise. “Push! Push and fall back!”

  The push didn’t come all at once, but it did come quickly. Kicks and shoves from the fighters pushed the crazies back, as did waves and cones of force, staggering gusts of wind, and powerful spouts of water. Those of the support mages who didn’t have any options to make space helped however they could. Deep, narrow trenches appeared in the earth just in front of the fighters, and huge patches of snaring plants grew in an instant; nowhere near enough to hold a human but enough to slow them down.

  The small handful of crazies that remained in the five feet of space that this created were quickly struck down, and then the line broke, and ran. And as they did Ana ran along behind them, dealing with those crazies who’d recovered more quickly than others and were already throwing themselves at her soldiers’ unprotected backs.

  Ahead of them the backline let loose, and the melee fighters and support casters clumped up, creating openings for their friends to fire through. That broke up the ragged line of pursuers and took down those who moved fastest, buying the retreating fighters a few precious extra seconds. But in moments the backline had to turn and run themselves or risk being left behind, and it turned into an all-out retreat, a race for the gate and the ladders on the walls.

  There was going to be a problem. Ana could see it as they ran. A miscalculation. There weren’t enough rope ladders, and the gate wasn’t wide enough. Some people would have to stop and wait. The crazies would catch up to them, and then… gods only knew how that would turn out.

  “Rill!” Ana called between breaths. “Tellak! Wandak! Simt! Any other melee specialists or support casters over Level 15! Prepare to meet them at the gate!”

  “What—” Wandak panted. “What’s the plan?”

  “Everyone! Once the rope ladders are full, do! Not! Wait! Continue to the gate! Those I called out, we need to hold the gate for a few seconds. Just until everyone gets in, that’s all! Sprint ahead and form up! I’ll bring up the rear! Go! Go!”

  Ana didn’t know if “sprinting ahead” was even viable, but she’d just have to trust that melee specialists would have more endurance than your average mage or archer. And they definitely made a good effort, with nearly two dozen of her fighters pulling ahead of the pack.

  Either she was spot on about her assumptions, or there was a big difference in basic, non-Attribute assisted fitness. What had started as a line had turned into a ragged column; where most of her chosen defenders had been able to speed up and pull ahead, many others had been going all out already, and some of the support were flagging. The crazies were gaining on them, and Ana found herself not retreating, but in a running battle where she was constantly flitting along the back of the line to trip, tackle, kick and strike at anyone who got too close.

  Up ahead, in front of the wide open gate, Tellak and Wandak were forming those who’d already made it into a line, ready to receive the charging horde. Petra, Ana saw, had gone straight to the gate; with her endless reserves from Ana’s Bastion and Tireless the inn-keeper could have been first up the ladders, but she’d chosen to go where she could help make sure everyone else made it. Less experienced fighters who hadn’t volunteered or hadn’t been chosen to go out were coming out the gate and joining them, adding a second line of spears to take some of the impact. On the wall above, others were firing over the heads of their retreating friends as they shouted encouragement.

  They were almost there. The first of Ana’s volunteers were scaling the rope ladders, while the rest did as they’d been told and made for the gate. The small bunch of fighters waiting there were settling into a solid line, but it was still going to be brutal. When the crazies hit them, running full tilt, the shock—

  The world spun. Ana tumbled. Even with all her advantages she hadn’t enough warning to avoid the body that launched itself at her from behind, arms wrapping around her legs and taking her down. With her legs trapped she couldn’t roll with the fall. But her reflexes gave her enough time to twist and tuck, and instead of smashing face first into the tall, trampled grass and uneven ground, she came down on her shoulder, the twist letting her skid onto her back.

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  The horde didn’t stop. Ana did her best to curl up and protect her head and neck for the handful of seconds that it took for them to pass, kicking and trampling her, some tripping and tumbling as they did.

  The thing that had grabbed her — it wasn’t one of the crazies, Ana realized. It was a goddamned possessed corpse, someone she recognized, and it had recovered quickly. It went for her face, but it took as many hits as she did. A skinny kid took it full in the side and they both went down and off her in a snarling heap, giving her a moment to Inspect her assailant. She got back [Revenant of Draver (Threat: Extreme)].

  Draver. Right. That was the man who’d been on the gate with Tor when Ana first stumbled out of the forest wearing a ruin of a dress and with scraps of cloth on her feet. Now what remained of him was a partially decomposed corpse in ragged, bloodstained clothes, its throat torn out and its face covered in wide, black scratches. And while the man himself had been indifferent to Ana, she knew without a doubt that the thing possessing his remains hated her and wanted nothing so much as to take her life and feast on her mana.

  The moment the last of the crazies was past, Ana rolled away from the demon that had brought her down. She shoved off against the ground, pushing herself several feet into the air and landing on her feet. It was a little awkward with her weapon and shield still in her hands, but Strength and Agility more than made up for it.

  The crazies that had gone down after running into her were getting up. Others from the horde had turned around. None were more than twenty feet away from her, and they were coming at her. None of them came at her faster than the one that had slammed into the demon that was once a guardsman, for the simple reason that the demon had grabbed the kid by the leg and flung him at Ana.

  Ana dropped and rolled to the side, barely dodging the spinning, howling body as it passed over her. She used the momentum of her roll and pushed off with her legs, driving her shoulder up into the chest of one crazy so hard that she felt ribs give, then lashing out with her axe and half decapitating another.

  The demon was almost on her.

  Draver had been short for a man, but still taller than Ana. His revenant was no larger, but where Draver had been relaxed, almost sleepy, the thing that wore his corpse moved with power and purpose. It had closed on her quickly and silently, with an intelligence that she hadn’t seen in demons before. She’d fought demons at the same threat rating before, but the first time she’d been fighting with her Party, and the second she’d had her gun. She’d still taken a beating, and this revenant was supposed to be as dangerous to her as either of those.

  Distantly, in a place where it couldn’t touch her, Ana felt fear. She responded the only way she knew: with fury. She kicked low at the same time as she swung high, an awkward, cross-body swing. The demon bent backward, and for the first time something dodged her blow.

  Her kick still caught the demon’s ankle, not breaking bone but breaking its step and sending it stumbling forward. It was too close for a follow-up blow with her axe, so Ana side-stepped, twisted and spun, bringing her buckler around in a backfist that took the revenant clean on the jaw with a satisfying crack of bone. It didn’t even flinch. Before she could pull back, it had grabbed her buckler in both hands and jerked, pulling her in as it lurched forward, broken jaw wide open to show broken, jagged teeth going for her throat.

  Ana’s knee came up with enough power to lift the revenant a good foot into the air. The weak spot she’d struck seemed to no longer exist, as the thing didn’t express any kind of pain, but getting its feet off the ground helped enough. The revenant was strong, fast, and durable, but it wasn’t any heavier than the man had been. It displayed more intelligence than any other demon Ana had fought, but it wasn’t smart enough to let go of her shield. When Ana stepped, twisted, and used its grip on her buckler to whip it around, using it as a makeshift club to smash aside one of the approaching crazies, it still maintained its grip. When she used the impact to reverse her spin and smash it into another of its — what? Allies? Minions? — it still held on. And when Ana tucked, heaved, and hurled it over her own head, releasing her grip on the buckler and sending the revenant crashing and snarling into the last two crazies near her, it still held a death grip on the deforming disc of metal.

  Ana surged after it, flipping her weapon to ready the hammer end of the head. One good blow, that was all she needed. One good blow to the head, and the revenant would be dealt with, and she could return to the outpost. The gate was closed. She’d missed what had happened entirely, but thank whatever deity deigned to listen, the gate was closed, and the walls were lined with people cheering her on, so the situation inside couldn’t be too bad. She’d have to fight her way past the returning horde of crazies to get there, but she was confident that she could. She just had to—

  The revenant hit the two crazies with bone breaking force. They all went down hard, but the possessed corpse rolled and was back on its feet, charging at Ana, in an instant.

  It came in low and fast, arms to the sides and light on its feet, and when Ana swung at its head it dodged left. She’d anticipated something like that, and the revenant's face met her incoming knee hard enough to shatter the bone around its nose. But even as it took the hit, its own strike, a wild swing delivered with a twist of the hips and the strength of a demon, took Ana in the hip.

  The thick leather plate there folded, and so did Ana. The force was enough to knock her sideways, her hip joint bending around the blow, and dimly, somewhere behind the dull pain of the impact, Ana thought she felt something break.

  When she hit the ground it was a blinding stab of pain that radiated out from her left hip, and Ana couldn’t keep herself from screaming. But the pain couldn’t stop her any more than fear or fatigue. Fight Through, Fearless, and Indefatigable; three Attribute Enhancements kept her going, beyond anything a human should be able to endure, not even slowing down as the realization hit her that she was badly injured. She’d just have to deal with it.

  The Revenant was on all fours, only feet away, but it was moving oddly. When it turned its ruined face her way, the reason became clear. Ana’s knee had finished what decomposition had started. The faceplate was caved in around the nose, both eyes ruined, slimy messes, and it didn’t seem to have gotten the hang of whatever revenants without eyes used to see. Instead it hunted around blindly, moving in her general direction but flailing wildly, hoping to catch her.

  Gritting her teeth, Ana got quickly to her knees. Her left hip hurt like a motherfucker, and worse when she put weight on it, but it didn’t buckle. It wasn’t properly broken, at least not at the joint. The socket, perhaps? It didn’t move right, but it would support her weight if she was careful. She could stand if she had to. And she had to.

  When the revenant surged her way — perhaps it had heard her? — she lurched to her feet. She reflexively tried to kick, but aborted the motion. It wasn’t happening. Without her fending kick the revenant again took her legs out from under her and she went down backward, striking almost reflexively with her hammer as she went. It bounced off the revenant’s skull with a satisfying Snap, but it wasn’t enough. The revenant pulled itself up her body, and a flailing blow caught her on the eyebrow, which split and started pouring blood into her eye.

  It’s going to kill me. The thought flashed through Ana’s mind as she tried to blink the blood away. It’s going to splatter my brain across the grass, or tear my throat out. It’s going to kill me.

  Not fucking likely!

  The snarl that left her was more animal than human. She didn’t care how strong this damned thing was. Grappling was her thing, and she was as strong as it. Hell, it wasn’t even trying to control her, just hurt her. She was fighting an idiot with no skill, and she needed to remember that.

  Ignoring the agony in her hip, she locked her left leg around the thing. She grabbed one of its reaching arms by the wrist and pulled, putting it off balance and smacking its face into the stomach of her armor, then planted her right foot and shoved off. In an instant the revenant was on its back and she was on top.

  She wondered idly if she could have submitted the thing. Or at least controlled it well enough to render it helpless. She wondered that as she locked her feet under it, broke first one shoulder and then the other with rapid hammer blows while fending off its flailing, taking more than a few hits in the process. The revenant bucked and tried to bite at her, but with both shoulders reduced to splintered bone and pulped flesh, there wasn’t much it could do.

  She heard herself screaming as she hammered its head into paste, spattering herself with rancid blood and brains and bits of decomposing flesh. How long had she been screaming? Her throat felt raw. It must have been a while. The scream petered out into heavy breathing as she got heavily to her feet. As she searched the ground for her buckler a notification joined the ones already waiting for her attention, and a ragged cheer carried from the wall.

  Now she just had to deal with several dozen crazies in front of her, and however many were coming in from the north-west. All she had holding her back was an eye blinded by the blood pouring into it, and a hip that could barely carry her.

  She’d promised Messy that she was coming back. She’d just have to fucking deal.

  She gripped her weapon tight, picked up her dented buckler, and limped toward the incoming horde.

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