"So, Silas, what exactly are we looking at?"

"There are seven more villages we were drawn from, all the way from here to Anebrilith. I'm betting that Clades will keep getting reinforced, and that we'll have to fight an undending stream of zombies, probably at least fifty, same as last time, in each fight. Don't be surprised if we meet more though. They're ruthless. And we'll start seeing living lycanthropes when he gets desperate." The smaller soldier shrugged inside his armor. "We'll deal with it. Barring unforeseen circumstances we'll get reinforced every time. And we're looking at ten or fifteen men every time, plus the "soldiers" that I'm training every night."

"So we're looking at between seventy and some one hundred men that are trained soldiers, and another 3-400 more untrained or half-trained troops?"

"Somewhat less than that I'm afraid. Of the populace of those villages, I think maybe 200 will actually be able to fight. I would say that 250 would be the upper limit of what we could expect, if we included teenagers and older men."

"They're both still strong enough to swing a weapon aren't they? As long as they can be trained to fight, we'll be fine."

The two companions chatted as they rode at the head of the caravan. They were riding point, and the soldiers were covering their flanks and rear. It wasn't the best setup, but it was the only way they could keep the pathfinders in front. Charles could sense if an attack was coming anyway. It wasn't going to matter if they were at the back or front. No attack was faster than the speed of thought.

_________

"Keep your guard up! Jorey, if you can stop an attack from a human, you can beat an undead." Silas shouted directions to his "trainees" in the dusky air, drilling them with swords they had taken from the undead and then blunted with Charles hammer, and a little help from the smith. "Remember! We aren't just fighting for our lives, we're fighting for everyone's. We cannot run. We cannot falter, we cannot surrender. The dead show no mercy. They sack everything, and kill everyone." Silas' one clever stroke in this, or so he thought, was that he had disallowed any man who had no close relatives among the refugees from being a candidate for the front line. They were all receiving training, but when the time came, the men, and women with families would be put in the line of fire. Brothers, husbands, sisters, mothers, fathers. He didn't want soldiers. He didn't have time for soldiers. He wanted warriors, berserkers, fighters. He had to trade survivability for brutality, and it was reflected in his training regimen. Everyone was badly bruised, except for a few naturals, who had managed to avoid the worst of any hits they took. He knew that most if not all of his ad hoc soldiers would die cutting their way through the ranks of the undead, just to give a bare few hundred a chance to escape to the last haven in Raiaera.

The sounds of clashing metal and grunting fighters continued well into the night, until Silas finally called a halt. "You're all making progress. It's only been three days, but we're definitely getting there. Some of you could probably take on undead now, but we're going to keep you in reserve as long as possible. You will not fight the enemy until we meet the main army. When w do reach that army, I will not lie to you. Most, if not all of you, will die. You will fight, and bleed, and scream and die for your parents, siblings, children, and grandchildren. You will lay down your lives so your families can live. We will be fighting right alongside you. Our soldiers will be right next to you, fighting for the same purpose. We need you alive for as long as possible. You are the point of our spear, and you will be the only thing standing between your families and the hordes of the necromancer."

The would be soldiers had been chatting amongst themselves when he started speaking. Now they were deadly silent. The sheer enormity of their task weighed heavily upon their shoulders. They had to fight and die for their families, and they knew beyond any doubt that if they didn't fight as hard as they could, and consequently die as hard as they could, then everyone they loved would die with them.