The Warbound Knight

Chapter 1. Before the Flag Comes Down

The spear point came straight for his eyes.

Aaron didn’t watch the spear to evade it. When the charging horse’s right shoulder dipped, he had already cleared his left foot.

Steel passed beside him.

He pressed the shaft briefly with the back of his blade and turned. Too late for the rider to release the spear; his arm was extended too far to pull it back. Aaron’s left hand received the man’s elbow.

Heat rose from his foot and circled his back.

The rider fell.

Aaron stepped over the rolling body and took one more short step. The next rider couldn’t drive his horse through the place where his companion had fallen. Reins tightened. The horse’s forelegs rose.

Into that gap went Aaron’s hilt.

The second man’s sword dropped from his wrist.

“Next,” Aaron said.

The third rider didn’t come.

He turned his horse aside. The red cloth tied beneath his spearhead drew a long slash through the air.

The voice that had been shouting for Kalmun Outpost to open its gate fell silent.

The outpost was smaller than its name suggested.

A wooden fence at the mouth of a valley. A barracks with barely room for six men to lie down. A wet imperial flag above a watchtower. Outside the fence lay an overturned cart. Three imperial soldiers crouched behind it.

One wheel was still spinning.

Toma’s cart had stopped on the road Aaron had come down. It carried bandages and dried medicinal herbs detached from Liora’s advance supply convoy. Issa stood beside the horse. Behind her were Bran, Leon, and Rowen.

Mira had already vanished from the road.

Aaron didn’t turn toward the trees to look for her. Leaving clear the left-hand approach where she’d disappeared, he moved toward the cart.

A crossbow catch clicked at the forest edge.

He ran low toward the overturned cart. A bolt punched through its bed, spitting pale fragments from the dry wood.

“Keep your heads down,” he said.

One prone soldier turned. A young face. More white than iris showed in his eyes.

“There are more behind us.”

“I know.”

Through the gap beneath the cart, five pairs of boots moved. Three riders blocking the road, the rest approaching on both sides. When two riders fell, the infantry’s steps faltered briefly.

Briefly was enough.

Aaron planted his left hand on the overturned cart. He didn’t leap high over it. He raised a knee onto the low side without a wheel and stepped down opposite.

A man’s sword turned to follow him.

Too late.

Aaron’s blade slipped beneath the sword hand. Without leaving time to grip and hold, he pushed the wrist. As the point turned toward the ground, his right foot was already beside the man.

His hilt struck the jaw.

The first man crumpled.

The second backed away with his spear. Instead of closing, Aaron opened his left shoulder. The point drove toward the apparently exposed chest.

Only his hips shifted.

The spear passed without even scraping armor. Instead of chopping the shaft with his sword, Aaron pressed it down with his foot. There was ground beneath that foot. The moment the long weapon pinned against the earth, its owner’s hands opened.

Aaron’s point stopped before his throat.

“Let go.”

The man raised his hands.

Aaron didn’t pass him. A weapon was still moving behind.

The third man raised an axe. He opened his shoulder broadly as though coming in alone, then stepped aside at the last moment. Behind him, the crossbowman was aiming again.

The face Aaron had been waiting for.

He stopped his advancing foot and slipped sideways. The axe man half-covered the place his body had occupied.

The crossbowman lowered his weapon.

At that instant, leaves stirred.

Mira’s arrow struck the crossbow’s body. The string didn’t snap, but the weapon jerked aside. The shooter’s face turned with it.

Aaron went inside the axe.

Held close to his body, his sword needed no broad swing. The force striking the wrist returned along his elbow and entered the next step. Before he heard the axe fall, the man’s knees folded.

The last foot soldier had crossed blades with Leon.

Leon didn’t shout. He pressed the man’s sword with the edge of his shield and waited. When Rowen extended a spear from the opposite side, the man dropped his weapon.

Steadying his breath, Aaron looked up.

At the end of the road, the remaining rider was turning his horse. He’d already discarded the spear with the red cloth. He was eyeing the narrow path beside the watchtower.

Mira emerged from the woods.

She held her bow without drawing.

Seeing her, the rider eased his reins. Bran stood behind him. He had circled wide earlier to block the third horse that had approached from the front.

A faint light traveled along Bran’s sword.

The rider looked from one to the other.

Then threw his blade to the ground.

On the tower, the soldier reaching to lower the flag stopped his hand.

Aaron looked up at him.

“Leave it flying.”

The soldier blinked.

“It’s still ours.”

The gate opened.

The man who emerged hadn’t finished tying his helmet’s chin strap. Dried blood marked the side of his head. He looked at the fallen enemies, the halted cart, and the imperial flag in turn.

“Reinforcements?”

Aaron showed the knight’s insignia at his collar.

“Aaron Vale. I need someone to receive the medical supplies.”

The man closed his mouth briefly.

“You’ve brought… medicine?”

“That was the original purpose of the visit.”

Behind him, Toma lifted the reins.

The cart rolled slowly in. Issa nudged a broken spear shaft aside with her toe to keep the wheels from crossing it. Throughout the fighting, the cart had waited unharmed.

Horse, bandages, driver—all safe. Watching Toma clear a twig caught between the wheels, Aaron lowered his sword.

He approached the fallen riders. The first cradled one shoulder. Rowen freed his foot from the stirrup before anything else, to keep him from being dragged.

The second sat with his swollen wrist against his stomach. His eyes were sharp. A man who had surrendered his weapon hadn’t necessarily surrendered his will.

Aaron spoke to Leon.

“Keep the weapons apart from the men. Check their injuries first.”

“Inside the outpost?”

“The empty enclosure, not the barracks. I’ll see that the soldiers get water.”

Leon and Rowen stayed with the prisoners. Only Issa followed Aaron back to right the cart.

He returned to the overturned vehicle.

The three soldiers were crawling out. The youngest hauled himself up with both hands on a wheel. His legs didn’t seem to obey. Aaron reached out, supporting beneath his arm rather than gripping it.

The soldier swayed once, then stood alone.

“Your name?”

“Edin.”

“Edin. Where were you hit?”

“I wasn’t,” the boy said.

Then, looking surprised by his own words, he checked his hands and body.

“I really… wasn’t hit.”

Aaron nodded.

“Then help us put the cart upright. If anything hurts, stop.”

The three soldiers joined Aaron and Issa. They removed the cargo first, then righted the cart. An axle was split. Aaron touched the crack, then called Toma.

Toma shook his head at once.

“It can’t carry a load. Won’t go far empty either.”

“Wish Penn were here.”

“Even Penn can’t grow a tree here on the spot.”

He sounded more like Bran by the day.

Aaron laughed. Unsmiling, Toma took out a wedge. His expression said they could brace it long enough to move it inside, at least.

As they pushed, the imperial soldiers watched Aaron.

Young Edin was the first to lend a hand.

The map Kalmun’s commander spread out was wet.

Water crept inward from a corner held down by a stone. One river had disappeared beneath an ink stain. Without touching the paper, Aaron followed the road the commander indicated.

“Our patrol didn’t return. I sent three of the six remaining men to check the road. They were pinned behind that overturned cart.”

“How long had the enemy been here?”

“Since dawn. Didn’t look like a normal patrol. Not enough men to take a fort. Enough to cut a road.”

Aaron looked outside.

Eight men. Many horses for the cargo they might loot, and no oil for setting fires. Perhaps they had been less interested in opening the gate than in keeping those inside from moving.

“Is there another road north?”

The commander’s finger shifted.

Two routes met in one valley. Cavalry could use the eastern road, heavy carts the western. Beyond Kalmun lay Meren Bridge.

Aaron remembered the map at the mustering point.

The main supply convoy was supposed to come that way.

On schedule, it would arrive before midday.

Outside the window, the sun was already above the roof.

“Have the supply carts arrived?”

The commander looked at him.

Aaron thought he’d asked the wrong question. The man’s mouth opened and closed. He lifted an empty basket beside the map.

Three crumbs of bread.

“I thought you were their advance party.”

Bran entered.

He was about to say that one of the prisoners was willing to talk when he saw their faces.

“How much is left?”

He asked the commander.

“Until this evening. If only our six eat.”

In the yard were Aaron’s companions guarding the medical cart. There were eight prisoners too. He silently counted again.

More mouths because they had won.

The commander pressed the edge of the map with a towel.

“If we cut our own portions…”

“Not yet,” Aaron said. “First, we’ll find where the convoy’s stopped.”

He called Toma and asked him to choose a fast horse and prepare a rider to send to Liora. Toma studied the road and called Rowen, who rode faster than he did.

The communications duty had been assigned at the mustering point. While Rowen took the reins, Toma gathered the medical delivery receipt. There was no need to argue again about whom to send.

Rowen mounted. Aaron reduced the report to three points. Kalmun secured. Eight enemy scouts captured. Supplies not arrived.

“If the return road is blocked, don’t force your way through.”

Rowen nodded.

“I’ll send the reply by another route.”

The horse galloped south.

Aaron looked up at the tower.

The flag was high again. Wind caught the cloth and spread it firmly. The soldiers who had trembled beneath it a little earlier, afraid of dying, now watched him with trust.

With a sword in hand, he could bring down the enemies blocking their road.

But there was nowhere to aim a blade in an empty food basket.

Aaron sheathed his sword and spoke to the commander.

“Show me the storehouse first.”

He had won the first battle.

Now he had to win tonight.

Chapter 2. The Eight Who Came

Marten Roe looked at the watchtower before the prisoners.

The soldiers he’d brought halted in two lines outside the outpost. The shields in the front rank stood at different heights. Behind them, every crossbow was uncocked. Their steps were tired, but they didn’t scatter wherever space appeared.

Aaron rose from the map table.

“Aaron Vale.”

“I’ve heard the name.”

Marten dismounted. When the soldier taking his reins offered a hand, he first unfastened the map case from the saddle. Beneath the helmet he removed, sweat had flattened his hair.

“Heard who won on my way here too.”

Aaron waited.

The general’s gaze passed over his longsword and the prisoners in the yard. He didn’t look as though he wanted a demonstration of the swordsmanship.

“How long can you hold it?”

“With the food here now, I can’t give you a time.”

“If food arrives?”

Aaron considered the tower’s height and the slope behind the outpost.

“We can stop mounted scouts. If archers take the northern ridge, they can shoot into the barracks. Holding both positions will require more people.”

Marten nodded.

“You’re telling me what you can actually do.”

He set the map case on the table. An expeditionary army document bearing Malrec Vane’s name came out, but he unfolded the map. He placed three small stones at Meren Bridge to the north.

“The main force goes here. We must cross before the kingdom cuts the bridge. I can’t tie my troops to this outpost.”

“Then we hold it?”

“Until the supplies pass through. And the two medical carts following them.”

Marten pointed outside.

The soldiers who had just arrived stood there.

“I’ll attach twenty-four men to you.”

Aaron looked at their faces before considering the number.

Even after the eight of his company had arrived, the yard hadn’t seemed cramped. Now, reaching the water barrel meant walking around someone else’s kit. A moment would come when he’d need to call these people by name.

Marten offered a small wooden tablet.

A wartime assignment order.

“I know you can use a sword. You know it can’t appear in three places at once.”

“Yes.”

“Then listen to your sergeant.”

The general looked back.

A thick-necked man with a folded left ear stepped forward.

“Rurik,” he said. “I know the men. Don’t know this ground yet.”

Aaron extended his hand.

“We’ll look at it together.”

Before accepting, Rurik wiped his palm once on his trousers. It didn’t remove much dust. Still, he completed the small gesture before shaking hands.

“From now on, we take your orders.”

Aaron released his hand. Behind Rurik, twenty-four people waited for the next command.

Fifteen days earlier, different answers had been given around Vale’s long dining table.

Aaron read the transport contract first. The terms sent by Liora’s logistics office were longer than before. Before where they would sleep or what they would eat, the document stated who would stand in front of enemy blades.

Combatants and civilian transport workers.

Missions under military command and duties to deliver contracted supplies.

As an invested knight, Aaron himself received military orders. Driving his cart didn’t automatically place Toma under the same obligation.

Penn listened to the end, then put his hands on the table.

“I’ll stay.”

Aaron nodded.

“Do I need to give a reason?” Penn asked.

“If you’d like to.”

“I’m repairing two carts here now. Others are waiting to go out to the fields. Someone has to go and fight, but when they come back, shouldn’t there still be somewhere to get things repaired?”

Even after finishing, he left his hands in place.

Aaron didn’t take the contract away. He opened a separate section covering repairs and procurement at home.

“Please take charge of that. Arrange the duration and costs with Mara.”

Penn’s fingers loosened slightly.

Yanik said he would stay too.

His mother and sister, brought out from the pasture, had yet to move fully back into their own home. Even after retraining, the sound of a door shutting there stiffened his shoulders.

Aaron listened to the reason in full.

Beside Yanik, Rowen spoke.

“Watch my place too.”

Yanik looked at him.

“I don’t mean cover two posts alone. Get Mara to assign people.”

Yanik nodded. Only then did Aaron call the next name.

Bell and Hugh were looking at the same paper. Hugh’s foot had healed enough for walking, but swelled if he stood too long. Whenever Bell suppressed a cough, he turned toward the door.

“Best if we both stay,” Hugh said.

Bell looked at him at once.

“Since when do you speak for…”

“You told me to keep carrying water until my foot healed.”

Bell closed his mouth.

For a while, their feet shifted beneath the table. Then both nodded. Aaron added two more names to the list for home duties.

Four staying.

Eight leaving.

No one read those numbers as diminished loyalty.

Toma asked Sera to reread the combat obligations in the driver’s contract. He would assist evacuation and defense if his cart was attacked, but transferring him to an assault unit would require renewed consent.

“Are there circumstances where I can abandon the cart?”

“When you can’t get out with people still aboard,” Aaron answered.

“Like last time?”

“Yes. You can decide to unload the people first.”

Toma asked her to point to the actual sentence. Remembering what he’d heard and being able to find it again were different things. Sera drew a small cart beside the line.

Toma signed his name next to the picture.

His strokes were quicker than before.

Issa wanted a separate provision in her contract for the ropes she used. If combat troops simply cut away and took ropes securing heavy cargo, someone could be hurt. Leon smiled at first, then stopped, perhaps remembering the knot he’d ruined last time.

Mira asked about replacement bows and arrows.

Bran entered his name as instructor and command adviser.

“Your left arm?” Aaron asked.

Bran opened and closed his hand.

“The healer cleared it. I don’t intend to start by teaching you how to pretend you’re fit.”

Aaron asked no more. Instead, he arranged for the shield Bran might have to carry for long stretches to be placed near the cart bed.

When all the papers on the table were gathered, Mara opened the door first.

Children were touching the cart wheels in the yard. They scattered at Penn’s call. Yanik received the last loads beside the gate, while Bell and Hugh spread a cover together.

The four staying behind were preparing the departure too.

Aaron watched for a long time.

The mustering ground at Arden Castle smelled of an army.

Wet leather, grease, dung, beans boiled too long. Hundreds of feet had trampled the grass out of the earth. After parking his company’s cart, Aaron stood for a while inside the noise.

Someone laughed. Someone cried.

A line longer than the soldiers’ queue waited before a letter writer. Passing it, Aaron thought of the letter inside his coat. Lucky to know where to send it, he thought—then realized, belatedly, that some didn’t know whether the people at those addresses could still receive it.

Liora stood before the third tent.

A thin coat of dust lay over her blue coat. One soldier offered a document. Another stood beside him already waiting for an answer.

Aaron didn’t interrupt.

Liora saw him first.

“You’re here.”

“On time.”

“That’s for the register.”

She smiled briefly.

“Was the journey all right?”

“We escaped the rain. The boots didn’t.”

As Aaron looked at his muddy feet, Liora looked too. Her boots were wetter than his.

“Then we both lost.”

She offered a fresh map.

“Scouts and transport go north first. Six days to Kalmun Outpost. Deliver the medical supplies there and wait for the main force’s supply column.”

“Combat orders?”

“Defend your convoy if attacked on the road, and assist nearby friendly troops. Don’t start collecting taxes wherever you take ground.”

“I’ve learned that lesson.”

Her gaze lingered briefly on his hand, where the old wound had healed.

“That’s for the register too.”

Aaron folded the map.

He wanted to say something more, but the next person behind him shifted forward. Liora heard it too. Almost together, they looked back, then at each other.

“When you return,” she said. “If you have something to say, tell me then.”

Aaron nodded.

No one had asked for a dance yet. No one had refused.

They had only postponed the next one.

Rurik divided his soldiers into three ranks.

“Twelve shield and spear. Six crossbows. Four engineers. Two medical orderlies.”

He tapped his own chest.

“I’m included in the twelve shields.”

Aaron marked the list. Going by the numbers alone, he’d nearly invented a twenty-fifth man.

“Eight of us. Sir Bran, Leon, and I for close combat. Mira for scouting and archery. Rowen is out carrying a message. Toma handles transport, Issa loading and securing cargo, Sera supply and personnel records.”

Rurik looked at the outpost commander.

“Your six remain on garrison duty?”

“Yes,” Aaron said. “I haven’t been given authority to take the outpost’s people wherever I please.”

Rurik gave a brief nod.

One of the new soldiers raised a hand.

The man at the end of the front rank. A white scar showed through his black beard.

“Who knows where we’re going?”

“For now, Rurik and I will work that out together.”

“And our pay?”

“Your expeditionary army terms remain in force. If anything is written differently, bring it to Sera.”

The man looked surprised.

Apparently, he hadn’t wanted an inspiring answer. Once told where the money would come from, he asked nothing more.

Aaron walked among them.

A man with a frayed shield strap. A man supporting a crossbow with his left hand. A man carrying an engineer’s axe too high. Shoulders that had first looked much alike were different up close.

He didn’t order them to change weapons.

He asked what was uncomfortable first.

The first soldier said nothing was. When the third said his boots were full of water, the answers grew longer.

Aaron looked at Rurik.

“We’ll inspect the northern ridge first, then come back and dry the equipment.”

“We need to decide who rests first too,” Rurik said. “They all think it isn’t their turn yet.”

Aaron looked back at the front rank.

Faces waiting to be told where to stand.

He couldn’t move the entire expeditionary army. For now, there was this yard.

“Split them in half. Those who fought today get water first. Those who’ve just arrived get shown the roads. Hear each other’s names before handing over a post.”

At that, Bran laid his scabbard on the table.

Rurik took twelve soldiers outside.

A moment later, Aaron looked at his list again.

Thirty-two.

That number didn’t mean thirty-two swords.

It meant thirty-two names, and that tonight he would have to say whom to wake and whom to let sleep.