Legionnaire

The tent flap snapped open before anyone could say more.

A scout stepped inside fast, caught himself two paces in, and struck his right fist against the left side of his chest. Not a full salute like back home, but close enough that my brain filed it in the same place.

“Ma’am,” he said.

Isolde turned from the table. “Report.”

“Patrol is back.”

Kael’s head shifted slightly.

Isolde’s eyes sharpened. “Already? It’s only been three hours.”

Three hours?

I looked down at my hands before I could stop myself.

I thought I had been working for maybe twenty minutes. Thirty at most. Binding the chest, the wand, the map case, then playing now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t with the medicine box had apparently eaten the morning.

That was something I needed to fix.

Losing track of time while touching expensive magic bullshit felt like the kind of habit that got a man killed, robbed, or yelled at by Kael Marric.

Possibly all three.

“They have injured, ma’am,” the scout said.

Isolde moved around the table at once. “Badly?”

“No dead. No one dying.” He spoke quickly, but not panicked. “One broken arm. One broken leg. Others minor cuts and bruises. Tali says cragbacks threw rocks and a tree at them.”

He paused.

Then added, very carefully, “She told me to report that the tree was literal, ma’am.”

For half a second, no one spoke.

Then Kael muttered, “Of course it was.”

Isolde’s jaw tightened. “Understood. Have Tali report here after she gets the rest of her patrol sorted.”

The scout swallowed. “She is the one with the broken leg, ma’am.”

Isolde stopped.

Not long.

Just long enough to show she hated that answer.

“Then have Corvin report to me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The scout struck his fist to his chest again, turned, and left the tent.

Outside, the camp had changed.

I could hear it now. Voices moving faster. Boots in mud. Someone calling for a stretcher. A horse protesting somewhere near the picket line. Not panic. Not chaos.

Urgency.

There was a difference.

“What exactly are cragbacks?” I asked.

Not really to anyone in particular.

Kael answered anyway.

“Mountain brutes,” he said. “Big. Strong. Mean when pressed. They live high on cold shelves and broken stone. Long arms. Heavy shoulders. White-gray fur where the hide shows.”

He tapped two fingers against the map table.

“The rest is plates.”

“Plates?”

“Stone-like growths through the back, shoulders, forearms, and skull. Not true stone, but close enough when a blade hits it. Looks like armor because it is armor.”

I pictured something like a gorilla wearing half a mountainside.

That did not improve my morning.

“How big?” I asked.

“Bigger than a man,” Kael said. “Not giant-sized. Worse in some ways. Low center. Long reach. Strong enough to pull a shieldman out of line if he gets careless. Strong enough to break bones through armor. Strong enough to pick up a rock the size of your head and throw it hard enough to make the helmet irrelevant.”

“And the tree?”

Kael looked at me.

“If Tali said tree, she meant tree.”

“That feels like something I should have known before I came here.”

“You know now.”

Helpful.

Very helpful.

Kael stepped closer to the map and pointed toward the west cut. “They are not usually hunters of men. Territorial. Defensive. Dangerous if surprised, cornered, or guarding young. Most patrols know to give them distance, make noise, and leave the high shelves alone when sign is fresh.”

Isolde’s eyes stayed on the map.

“They should not be this low.”

“No,” Kael said. “They should not.”

“And they should not be throwing trees at patrols three hours from camp,” I said.

Kael’s eyes moved to me.

“No,” he said. “They should not.”

That was the part no one liked.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Not the broken arm. Not the broken leg. Not even the literal tree.

The wrongness.

Cragbacks high. Patrols low. Rules understood. Distance kept. Everyone lives unless someone gets stupid.

Except now the cragbacks were lower than expected, angrier than expected, and close enough to send a Legion patrol limping back before lunch.

Something had changed.

Isolde turned from the map when the tent flap opened again.

Corvin stood there looking like he had rolled down the mountain on the way back.

His cloak was torn near one shoulder. Mud streaked one side of his face and caked the front of his armor. A shallow cut ran along his cheekbone, already half-dried. He had one hand braced against the tent pole like he was pretending he did not need it.

“Ma’am,” he said. “You requested me?”

Isolde looked him over once.

“Well,” she said, “you look like shit.”

That surprised me more than the blood.

Corvin gave her a sheepish grin. “Had a little tumble down the mountain.”

I snorted before I could stop myself.

Everyone looked at me.

I coughed into one fist. “Sorry.”

Then I coughed again.

“Something caught in my throat.”

I looked at Corvin.

He was glaring at me with a deadpan look that promised this was not over.

Isolde ignored both of us.

“What happened?” she asked.

Corvin straightened as much as his bruised body let him.

“We reached the west cut,” he said. “Tali kept us low and slow. Ground was loose. Sight lines above us were bad.”

Kael moved closer to the map.

“How far?”

“Just past the lower marker. Two hundred yards, maybe less.”

Isolde’s eyes narrowed. “That close.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Corvin leaned over the table and pointed. His finger left a smear of mud on the map.

“First sign was here. Scrapes on the stone. Broken brush. Fresh tracks in the soft ground near the bend. Too many for one or two. Tali called halt before we had a full count.”

“Good call,” Kael said.

“Yes.” Corvin swallowed once. “It saved us.”

No one spoke over that.

“How many?” Isolde asked.

“Ten we saw clearly. Maybe twelve. Could have been more above the ridge, but I won’t swear to what I didn’t see.”

Ten.

I had not known much about cragbacks five minutes ago, but I knew enough now to dislike that number.

Kael’s face stayed flat. “Position?”

“Above us. Both sides of the cut, but heavier on the north ledge. They were spread out along the broken stone.”

He touched the map again.

“Here. Here. And higher here.”

Isolde looked at the marks.

“They had the road boxed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did they come down?”

“No. They did not need to.”

Corvin’s voice had gone dry and controlled. Not calm exactly. Controlled.

“The first stones came before we could get back out of the cut. Not warning throws. A full hail. Fist-sized. Head-sized. Some bigger. Most hit short or high, but there were enough that it filled the air.”

I pictured it before I wanted to.

Men in armor on bad footing. Shields up. Rocks cracking off stone. Splinters. Dust. Someone yelling and not being heard because the whole mountain had decided to come down on them.

Corvin kept going.

“We raised shields and started pulling back by pairs. Bren took a large stone straight into his shield. The shield split. His arm went with it.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “He stayed up?”

“Long enough.”

“Good man.”

“Yes.”

“Kerren and Voss?”

“Stone fragments. Cuts along the scalp, cheek, forearm. Bloody, but not deep. They walked back.”

“And Tali?” Isolde asked.

Corvin’s hand curled slightly against the table.

“The deadfall was above the bend. Old pine. Already down, caught on the ridge. One of the large ones shoved it loose.”

“Shoved,” Kael said.

“Yes. Not thrown. It pushed the trunk over the edge. The pine hit the slope, bounced, and rolled into the cut.”

“How big?”

“Fifteen feet. Maybe more. Dry trunk, branches mostly gone. Heavy enough.”

His mouth tightened.

“Tali saw it coming. Bren was slow with the broken arm. She shoved him clear and took the trunk across her lower leg.”

No one said anything for a moment.

Outside the tent, someone called for clean water.

I could hear the answer. Could hear boots moving. Could hear the camp doing the work that came after blood.

“Clean break?” Kael asked.

“That’s what the healer said.”

“She was awake?” Isolde asked.

“The whole way back.”

That seemed to matter to both of them.

“Any head wound? Chest? Belly?”

“No, ma’am. Leg only. Bad enough, but only the leg.”

Isolde gave one sharp nod. “Good.”

It did not sound like good.

It sounded like better than dead.

“Did the cragbacks pursue?” Kael asked.

“To the lower stones,” Corvin said. “They kept throwing until we were fully out of the cut. Once we hit open ground, they stayed high.”

“So they’re holding the cut,” Kael said.

“That’s what it looked like.”

“Not chasing meat,” Isolde said.

“No, ma’am. If they wanted to close, they had chances. They wanted us out from under them.”

“And now they have it,” Kael said

“Kael, organize the command. We cannot let them hold the throat of the pass.”

“If they run?” Kael asked.

“We let them,” Isolde said. “We are clearing the road, not hunting trophies.”

“Then we remove them.”

Move them or remove them.

No matter how.

Isolde straightened from the map. “Four stay with the camp. One healer with the wounded. Horses and supplies are guarded. No one wanders. No one goes up after lost gear. No one leaves camp alone while we are gone.”

Corvin drew a breath like he was about to say something.

Isolde looked at him. “You are not going back up the cut.”

His mouth closed.

“You are hurt,” she said. “You gave your report. You did your work.”

“I can still ride.”

“You can still bleed in my tent,” she said. “That is not the same thing.”

Corvin lowered his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Get treated. Then sit with Tali and write what you saw while it is fresh.”

Corvin looked like he wanted to argue.

He did not.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He struck his fist to his chest, slower than before, then turned and left the tent. The flap lifted, let in a cut of cold air and camp noise, then fell shut behind him.

Isolde’s eyes stayed on the flap for half a breath.

Then she looked at me.

“Wade, you will be with me.”

“With you, ma’am?”

“Yes. Kael will be too busy with troop movements and command decisions to pay attention to a shadow. I need him focused, not babysitting.”

That made sense.

“Yes, ma’am.” I hesitated, then glanced between her and Kael. “If I may ask?”

Kael’s eyes shifted to me.

I kept going..

“I only ask because they did not go over this in the schoolhouse. They just said mages lead commands. So I’m asking to understand, not to question it.”

Kael said nothing.

Isolde did not look offended.

If anything, she looked like the question was expected.

“Ask,” she said. “Better that than pretending knowledge you do not have.”

I nodded once. “Why is he leading the command?”

Kael’s eyebrow moved slightly.

I added, “In the field, I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Isolde said.

She stepped back to the map table, but did not look down at it.

“Mages lead commands because mages can change the shape of a fight. That does not mean every mage should personally direct every blade, boot, and body once the fight starts.”

She looked to Kael.

“This command works because we know what each of us is for. I handle the magic. I make the larger calls. If something appears that the fighters cannot answer, I answer it.”

Kael folded his arms.

Isolde continued, “Marric handles the movement of the command. He reads the ground, the fighters, the spacing, the weak points, the person about to do something brave and stupid. In a fight like this, especially on broken stone, he is better suited to moving them than I am while I am working sigils.”

That was clear enough.

Different jobs.

Same command.

“And if you give a different order?” I asked.

“Then mine stands,” she said. “And he knows why before I finish saying it.”

Kael gave a short nod. “Usually.”

Isolde’s eyes moved to him.

“Always when it matters,” he said.

That sounded less like obedience and more like trust built out of a lot of ugly days.

Isolde looked back at me.

“You will stay with me because you are new to my command, new to this ground, and new to this enemy. Marric cannot split his attention to keep you alive during first contact.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And because if I need you, I need you close.”

That part landed heavier.

I thought of the ring. The Binding. The Anchor burned somewhere inside me like a tool I still did not fully understand.

“Yes, my lady.”

Kael stepped toward the flap.

“I’ll get them moving.”

“Do it,” Isolde said. “We move before the cragbacks settle deeper into the cut.”

Kael struck his fist to his chest and left.

This time, when the flap opened, the sound outside was sharper. People moving with purpose. Orders already spreading. The wounded behind us. The pass ahead.

Isolde fastened her cloak tighter at her throat and checked the wand at her side.

Then she looked at me.

“Stay close. Do exactly what I say. If you do not understand an order, obey it first and understand it after.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

She lifted the flap and stepped out.

I followed her into the cold.