While Erika was discussing things with Miana, I helped the men from the Order with the excavation.

And I mean "I helped" in the sense that property owners always mean when contractors come to do work: I stood there and watched while they did incredible things, occasionally biting back a complaint or offering a small clarification.

The first thing they did was carve out a series of steps in the ground that would lead, eventually, to the "left eye" of the caverns beneath the cliffs. I could not have done with godly power what they did with magic--certainly not as quickly or as well, and it would have wasted my power reserves to even try--but within an hour, there were stacks of mud and rock piling up on the ground by the river, now only occasionally rather than constantly being added to by Brun, who proved capable of moving several dozen times her body weight in stone as though it was nothing.

I quietly adjusted upwards what I expected from magicians in general, feeling like my petty efforts to poke around with energy thus far were so insignificant as to be laughable. Granted, they had claimed with some authority that they were the world's best at what they did, but... but as an intellectual, I had kind of assumed that I would be able to pick up magic and soon enough join the ranks of great mages. I was an experienced thinker, so I assumed I would do okay. Seeing a professional mage just made me realize that was not even a dabbler; I was completely uninitiated.

I swallowed my bruised ego and watched.

Well before dawn, there was a medium-sized cavern serving as my hidden temple's left eye--a good twenty feet tall, fifty feet wide, and at least twice that deep, with columns supporting the ceiling, spaced evenly. When they deigned to permit me to come in--when I was no longer in danger of messing with their rhythm, mostly--I found that they had clearly done some careful planning in reinforcing the ceiling with some kind of braces, and they had even somehow managed to compact a solid stone roof in the places where it had once been dirt, sand, or gravel. In the dark, I was not sure if it was really pretty, but it was impressive for a rush job, at the very least.

They moved on from that to working on some surface buildings. One started by compacting loose stone or gravel into stone blocks, while the other restlessly fussed around with the ground, I assume improving the foundations, but it wasn't entirely obvious, even when I was using my magic sight to peer at them. They worked so quickly and efficiently that I sometimes didn't even want to breathe, much less speak and interrupt them.

For her part, Miana only briefly glanced over what they were actually doing, then went back inside. I honestly expected her to have something to say--she had insinuated pretty heavily that she wanted to be involved in discussing how things were designed--but she seemed distracted, and possibly drunk. Erika, of course, was nowhere nearby; I didn't even know she was gone until I noticed Miana, and by then, she had removed every last trace of herself.

I did look up at the Arch, seeing that one shining point in it that was doubtless her space station, but was quickly drawn back to watching the professional mages tear apart my holy place and make it a home.

Dawn came quickly, and Etan swung by to ask me what I wanted to do for the Temple's church, proper. My request was fairly simple, in concept: built over the river, with a large glass wall or many windows, so that people could look out over the distance and contemplate perspective. The main section of the church would be set up with raised bleachers, so that everyone worshiping or listening to a sermon would have a good perspective out the window and over the cliff. That also meant they would be looking down on the preacher, but... I figured that was an acceptable compromise if it gave them Perspective.

If anything, it would probably be a good contrast. I got the impression that my Little Gods' Room setup where people "close to the top of the cliff" gained power from perspective also had the reverse effect on this side, giving a sense that people with perspective were somehow higher than others. The effect was mild, but I noticed it in my interactions with myself, Erika, Miana, and the mages. If that was true, people at the top of the bleachers would be looking down on a person, yet still convinced that the preacher was above them.

Then again, it could have just been me. I'm sure my perspective is very different than the average person's.

By mid-morning, Miana reappeared and studied the foundation for the church. She seemed... a bit taken aback that I was proceeding with the creation of my temple without talking to her, but didn't object. She did ask that a space within the cliff be set aside for bathing and waste, and I mentally revised that request to having at least two; I intended for there to be an area deeper inside the cliff for people that I was hiding from the world, specifically godly avatars, but also Erika's projects, or anything else.

With that done, I went down into the left eye with Miana and we looked around. At the very least, I expected to hide the women of the Temple of Blades here; perhaps civilians that had nothing to do with the church could live above, and anyone could once the enemy had moved on, but the concealed area in the cliff was specifically a place that even if the enemy found us, they couldn't find. With luck, they would only see a few stone houses by the river and a Temple to a different god, and they would move on.

Assuming, of course, they didn't know I was their enemy. If they did, even that would be too much.

Throughout the morning I did what I could to monitor the situation with the refugees. I kept some rain in between Raine and Balant, and kept in touch with her, but couldn't do much else. I did realize, after a bit, that I had actually not told Raine that I was the one bringing the rain, and when I did, she got a bit cross.

"The people at the back of the column are cold and wet," she snapped at my shadow as she walked. "They'll get sick. The slowest ones are old people and children."

"How much further back do I need to push the rain?"

She stopped and looked back. I couldn't see much, but I trusted her judgement. "At least a league."

I immediately adjusted the weather, and after a few more fine adjustments, we continued. I resolved to practice shaping weather patterns more in the future--I wondered if I could, for example, detect where people were using the rain I summoned, or anything similar. Xenma, by his own admission, had not really been a "religion" type of god, so I didn't suspect I would find an ability to do so within his domain.

Miana also discussed with me, as we examined the cavernous left eye, the problems of her people, and in particular Xechi. I didn't have much information to offer--I could sense Xechi and get a vague impression of what she saw, but her attachment to me wasn't very firm, even though she'd met me and knew I was a god. There seemed to be some kind of emotional block between us, and I didn't try to force my way through it. None of the others in her group seemed to be my devotees, either, so I wasn't much help, but knowing where she was, I could at least push the rain back a little to ease the burden on her.

The others... Loi and Chibal and Ulia were all well, with Loi and Chibal more distant from Miana than she thought they should be. Miana was upset, but it was a vulnerable kind of upset that I suspected she didn't want me to "help her" with. She was more and more starting to act like she could handle things herself, and my default response was to trust her and give her space.

I wondered, as I watched her, though. This whole situation was awful, and I wanted to help however I could--not in exchange for power, or even necessarily gratitude. I wanted us to win, and we'd only get there by figuring out how to become stronger. I'm sure she thought the same, but the path forward must have looked different, to her.

Noon brought something very new and very surprising: the assembled mages caught, killed, cooked, and served several of the damned thorngoats, and many fish, along with many of the same roots and berries I'd found, except competently selected, prepared, spiced, and cooked. Where I and Raine had been forced to eat survivalist meals, these people made actual damn food.

It was the first moment when I thought things might actually work out for me, and I damn near wanted to cry.

It was around noon that the forces hounding Xechi and the Selmont caravan got into range to start shooting arrows.

It wasn't a lot of arrows, and it wasn't terribly accurate. The storms that had been nipping at the caravan's heels were now back just a little bit, enough that the tailing forces were still slogging through rain, but the caravan had been moving too slowly--a wagon had broken, and although the mercenaries were wise enough to leave it behind and not rally and try to fix it, they did take a few precious minutes to get some "essentials" off of it--mostly, some very expensive goods and some papers that Xechi and the mercenary commanders had to hope was worth all of their deaths.

Of course, Xechi was still not entirely convinced that any of them were going to survive at all. The rain was welcome, but the invading army was prepared, and the retreating group were not. They had not eaten, had barely slept, and were quite frankly already outclassed by their enemy in everything but knowledge of the terrain.

They had to keep moving, and they did. Every now and then, Xechi or Muir got a hint from their weapon that an arrow was pointed at their shoulder blades, and they got out of the way. But while the enemy was catching up, the rate of closure wasn't enough, not yet. If they made a full-on charge at this distance, they'd lose what advantage they had. The mercenaries would delay the army, and they'd have to catch up to the caravan again afterwards. No, the enemy would delay the charge. They would hope that the rain ended, wait for a favorable stretch of ground, and aim to get the leadership all at once.

Xechi was too focused on running to keep up with these things, but Muir whispered in her ear, keeping as much track of what was going on as she could. The small woman did her share of running on her own, at times--as much for her own sake as Xechi's, since riding the larger woman was an exercise in keeping her nausea down and her head on straight. But with her short legs, she knew it was a waste of her limited stamina.

Muir fought smart, not hard. Xechi loved that about her. There were not a lot of midget warriors on the field, and while Muir was a distinguished combatant, it was in a limited capacity only. She waited for the right moment and did something that nobody could deny. She was often overlooked, but never missed.

Still, the coming engagement was not one she could turn around, and although Xechi occasionally turned the situation over in her head, when the caravan slowed down because a cart was struggling through mud, and she had a chance to catch her breath, it didn't seem likely to be winnable. The ever-decreasing hope in Muir's voice as she gave her little reports told a similar story.

As Xechi sensed an arrow aiming for her friend, again, and spun around to knock it out of the sky with her poleaxe, she thought she heard a sound that might have been Muir crying. A quick look didn't show signs of tears, but the look on Muir's face was enough to hurt her heart.

"Don't worry," Xechi said, trying to put confidence into her voice. "Whatever happens today, my friend, I will not drop you or leave you behind. Whatever fate we share, we share together."

Muir, once again on her friend's shoulder, squeezed Xechi's head into a hug. "Pretty sure they're not gonna give us a choice in that, y'big lummox."

"I do not intend to leave it up to them," replied Xechi, forcing through her doubt with bravado that was not entirely false. "Besides, we two are lucky enough to have met two gods today. I do not think that the situation cannot be won."

There was a pause, and then, "You think we've done enough?"

"Long since," replied Xechi, with the same certainty. "Everything we do now is just an insult, to spite our enemy and laugh at their failure. They thought they would have won this battle half a day ago, while we slept. No. We have won this battle, and all it cost us was land. Land we can reclaim. We have lost nothing."

Muir laughed quietly in her ear. Xechi noticed several of the closer guards listening, though they didn't comment. Xechi felt a little proud--it was no great achievement, but every little bit she could do to keep everyone going seemed good enough to her.

There was another tingle from her weapon, and she tried to spin to deflect another arrow. The tingle only got more urgent as her foot slipped off the rounded edge of a stone, but despite that, she forced herself to concentrate on her footing for only a moment, so that she would not fall.

In that moment, the arrow found its mark.