Legionnaire

As we approached the tent one of the guards pulled the flap aside when Kael approached.

Inside, the tent was warmer and brighter than I expected.

A map table filled most of the center. Small carved markers sat across it in clusters, some black, some gray, a few red. Two lanterns hung from the center pole, their light catching on inked lines, wax seals, and the edges of stacked reports. The air smelled like oil, wet wool, leather, and too many tired people.

There were half a dozen soldiers inside.

A gray-haired woman stood near a side crate with rolled ledgers tucked under one arm. Two scouts leaned over the map, pointing at a narrow stretch of road marked between steep ridgelines. A younger soldier with a bandaged hand held a slate and looked like he was trying very hard not to drop it.

And at the far side of the table stood Lady Isolde Varyn.

For a second, I did not hear what anyone was saying.

I saw mud.

Rain.

Blood on pale skin.

Her hand clutching weakly at my sleeve while she pointed toward a dead man’s satchel because she did not have enough breath left for words. The red vial in my hand. Her chest rising wrong. My knee screaming while I dragged her through bodies and dark.

Then the memory snapped away.

She was not in the mud now.

She was standing under lamplight in fitted black armor, one hand braced on a campaign map, black hair pulled back, face clean and controlled while soldiers waited for her orders.

Same woman.

Different world.

Kael stopped beside the table.

“Marric?” she said.

Her eyes moved to me next.

“Who is this?”

“Archer arrived,” Kael said.

For the first time since I entered, her attention settled fully on me.

Something moved behind her eyes.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

It was there and gone fast enough that anyone else might have missed it.

Her gaze shifted back to Kael.

“Everyone dismissed,” she said.

The scouts gathered their things at once. The gray-haired woman took two rolled ledgers from the side crate. The younger soldier with the bandaged hand ducked his head and followed the others out.

When the tent flap dropped closed behind them, the sound of camp dulled.

Once everyone had left, she spoke.

“Archer.”

“Lady Varyn.”

Her face did not soften.

Her eyes did.

Not much.

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“You survived Rifthold.”

“People keep sounding surprised by that.”

“I am not surprised.”

That caught me off guard.

She looked me over once. Not like a woman looking at a man. Like a commander checking a tool she had ordered and wanted to know whether it had arrived cracked.

I had arrived cracked years ago, but that was not her fault.

“I am pleased,” she said.

“Thank you, my lady.”

The formality tasted strange in my mouth. Not bad. Just strange.

Isolde rested both hands on the edge of the table.

“For what it is worth, I am glad to see you standing.”

“Same to you,” I said. “You look better than the last time.”

“I remember very little of the last time.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Some of it has been told to me.”

I did not know what to do with that, so I did the safe thing and said nothing.

Her eyes held mine for a moment longer.

“You saved my life when leaving me would have been easier.”

I shifted my weight.

“My options were not exactly great.”

“No,” she said. “They were not. And yet you chose.”

There was nothing in her voice that made it sound like praise for a child.

That helped.

“You were injured,” she continued. “Alone. Ignorant of where you were. Surrounded by enemies and corpses. You still made useful choices.”

I glanced at Kael.

His face gave me nothing.

Useful choices.

That sounded like Vale.

“Then you survived selection,” Isolde said. “That is reason enough to look at you twice.”

“And the other reason?”

“I need a Binder.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’m at your service.”

The word came out before I thought about it.

Ma’am.

Not my lady.

Old habits had claws.

If Isolde noticed, she did not correct me.

“Good. First, I need to know what you have, how you fight, what skills you possess, and what sigils you already carry, if any.” Her eyes stayed on mine. “And Archer, do not bullshit me. Be honest.”

I let out a slow breath.

“You said you don’t remember much from the field.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I doubt you remember asking me to check the mage across from you. Or whoever that guy was. The dead one.”

Her expression did not change, but Kael’s eyes sharpened.

“I remember pieces,” she said. “Not that.”

“When I checked him, I found a ring.” I lifted my hand slightly. “Or it found me. I don’t know. It bound to me when I touched it. Senior Assessor Vale said it was bound and not coming off.”

Isolde looked at the ring, then back to me.

“And?”

“I found out what it was on the way here.”

“Go on.”

I hesitated.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction.

“I assure you, no one is taking anything from you, if that is what you are worried about.”

That was exactly what I was worried about.

I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.

“It’s a ring of holding. Or storage. Whatever they’re called. I can’t remember the proper word.”

“How much room?”

“About the size of a large rucksack, I guess.”

“What was in it?”

“Chicken.”

Kael blinked.

Isolde stared at me.

“It was still hot,” I said. “And fresh. So I ate it.”

For half a second, neither of them moved.

Then Isolde’s mouth curved, barely.

Kael’s did too.

“No one can blame you for that,” Isolde said. “Especially after Rifthold food being all you had.”

I grinned. “Yeah.”

“What else?”

“There was a knife. Fighting knife, not a tool. Dark steel. When I pushed mana through it, it sparked like lightning.”

“Shock affinity,” Kael said.

“There was gold, silver, copper, and two healing draughts like the one I used on you.”

Isolde’s face changed at that.

Not much.

Enough.

“How many?”

“Two.”

She looked at Kael, then back at me.

“And?”

“Well,” I said, “there was this scroll. A sigil.”

“What sigil?”

“Bulwark Anchor.”

The name landed.

Kael looked at Isolde.

Isolde kept looking at me.

“Explain what you understand it to do,” she said.

“It braces force,” I said. “It does not make me stronger. It makes me harder to move if I am planted right. Feet set. Angle right. Shield between me and whatever is coming. It can anchor me, my shield, maybe something bound to me, but the force still goes somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Into the ground. Into the shield. Into my arm. My shoulder. My back. Wherever it can.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“So you understand the cost.”

“I understand enough to know it is not a magic wall.”

“No,” Isolde said. “It is not.”

“I tested it small. Boot first. Then shield. It worked, but it hurt. If I use it wrong, I think it will hurt worse.”

“It will,” Kael said.

Isolde studied me for a long moment.

Then she nodded once.

“Useful,” she said. “Dangerous, but useful.”

That seemed to be the theme of my life lately.

“Very well,” she said. “You will be Kael’s new shadow until I know what to do with you and where to assign you. And I mean that literally. If you are not sleeping, shitting, or following a direct order he gives you, you will be right next to him at all times.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I have items that need bound in the morning. I will expect you here after first meal.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She moved her eyes to Kael.

“Tomorrow, we are sending out a patrol. First thing in the morning. Pick the best ten men you believe we can spare and who are best suited for the job. If the cragbacks are moving, I want to know why. We need more information. We have been on this damn assignment too long already, and I want it wrapped up as fast as possible.”

“Yes, my lady,” was all he said.

Kael turned toward the tent flap.

“Come on, Archer.”

I followed him out into the cold.

Behind me, Isolde Varyn was already calling for another runner.