Time was on our side for now, in spite of being worked to exhaustion most everyone marching north had a good night’s sleep before we got started, and there was something in their bellies, and it would be several hours still before anyone would find a delivery out of place, if not a day or two, depending when the owner of the mine showed up. But if nothing else we had several hours to get as far away from the mine as we could.

We left the mine just as the sun started coming up, and we kept moving at a pace, faster than a walk but slower than a jog, and it wasn’t until the sun was at its peak that we made our first stop. “All right, let’s take a rest for one hour” I ordered, there was a collective sigh as we sat our meager belongings down near a spring. I looked out over the group, mostly legionnaires and tried to gage their thoughts. The high that everyone had felt when we first left the mine had fallen away, and there was the look of fear, and worry. I couldn’t argue with their feelings, technically we were all fugitive slaves, a crime punishable by death by scourging, both here in the land of P’Tah, and in the Empire. Furthermore, we did just fight a battle against the land of P’Tah which was punishable by death by crucifixion. One good thing was they couldn’t execute us twice.

One of the men that volunteered to come with us was sitting on a rock rubbing his foot, and picking at it. He was dark skinned, darker than the natives of P’Tah, he was of the same people that attacked the first legion so long ago. I bore him, nor his people no grudge, “let me see your foot” I said as I nealt down to examine the soles of his feet. There was something lodged into his foot, it had festered, and the greyish black dried skin of his feet was bright red. “How long has your foot been hurting?” I asked adjusting his foot to get a better look at what was causing so much trouble.

The man smiled bright white teeth, that contrasted with his midnight black skin, and he replied “a month, and two weeks.” He grimaced as I touched the sore spot, I grimaced empathically with him “I am going to cut your foot open, and take out what’s hurting it. It’s going to hurt tremendously, but it will feel better after.” I rolled up a piece of cloth, and handed it to him “Put that in your mouth and bite down hard, it’ll help you get through this. As soon as he bit into the cloth I cut, without any empathy into the sole of his foot following the dark line of what ever was lodged into his foot. White pus, flowed from the cut followed by dark red blood. Almost immediately I could see the redness of his skin dissipating. The cut was almost two inches across his foot. What came out was a sand spike longer than the cut, and about as big around as a nail. I staunched the bleeding as best I could and wrapped his foot in gause. The man visibly relaxed like a candle melting. The pain of the wound I cut, being less than the festering sand spike already. “For the next few days you’ll ride my horse.”

The man thanked me and we drank water together as we rested, and I asked him “So, what is your name? Where do you come from?”

He gingerly touched the sole of his foot before replying “I am called Yonas, and I am from the land called Iberia. It is to the south, and west of P’Tah.”

I nodded, it was good information I had never heard the name of his land before, and now I knew it. It was the land of Iberia, the people there used hide shields, clubs, and short spears to fight with. I would ask him more question later on, but I couldn’t stay too long with any one person. I made the rounds, checking on legionnaire, and volunteer alike. Fear, and worry subsided for the moment as we rested and drank water. For me, my worries were bigger, I had to keep this rabble fed, I also had to somehow get them to start functioning as a unit. That was a must if we were going to survive the trek back to Fort Gaius without a lot of infighting, or out right mutiny.

The hour was almost up, and I rose to my feet, and told the group “drink until you can not hold another drop in your bellies, then take a piss, and drink again. Our next watering hole is nearly two days away. Fill up your water skins, and don’t drink more than half your water by this time tomorrow.” I drank my fill, and then refilled like the rest of the group, and we departed.

We were taking a longer route trying to avoid the caravan road. It provided the benefits, it avoided most patrols, and gave us the chance of encountering, wild sheep, antelope, ibex, and possibly bandits which could best add to our supplies. The drawback was that is was incredibly slow going, and avoided more established outposts, and watering holes.

There was a distinct separation of the two groups, the former slaves were clustered in the back of the formation without any rhyme or reason to their organization. In front of them were the remains of the legion. This would not do, if we were attacked like this the former slaves would be the first to be picked off, creating an opening in our meager defences. I halted the group, and paired the former slaves with a legionnaire. It was less efficient in the short term, but hopefully in the long term it would work out better for the entire group.

The day past, the group grew tired, thirsty, hungry, and grumpy. The next day the group started to grow despondent. Halting the group I called out “anyone with a bow, or sling step forward.“ Three men stepped forward, and I instructed them, “About a day’s march from here there is a date palm oasis. You three traveling light should make it there in a few hours. Go there, and if there are any animals, kill them, take the choice cuts for your selves but prepare the rest for the group. If there are any people there, stay out of sight and send a messenger back. Do not fight them.”