Alton sat against a rock and watched the cleanup. Davih took control of both teams and gathered the prisoners in the center of the clearing under guard. Two observers went up the trail to look for the scout team that triggered the mission while the rest of them healed. Alton was covered in minor cuts and bruises from the fighting. Two healing potions in and he could finally breathe without wincing from pain. The mana exhaustion was wearing on him and between that and the health potions, he was due for a nasty come down.

“I lost control again,” He said as Davih sat down beside him. “I was never one to shy away from a fight, but now…”

“Do you remember it? The fight?” Davih asked.

“Oh yes. Davih,” Alton hesitated, “I’ve never felt so alive as in those moments. In the thick of it, when bodies are falling all around me and death waits around every corner. It’s elating, like a drug. Remember that liproot that crusty old sergeant from Hawk chew? How it made your face numb? That’s how it feels with my emotions. I put the teams at risk by charging ahead alone.”

Davih responded by laughing so hard everyone in the clearing turned around to face him. Alton waited bewildered until he recovered enough to speak. “A lot of people were in danger earlier on this trail. Not a single one of them was wearing an Agorran uniform.” He continued to laugh while patting his stomach for dramatic effect.

“Hey Rork, you feel any danger earlier?” He yelled out to his sergeant.

“Yeah, danger of being replaced. Why pay a whole strike team when you can just pay one madman?” Rork replied with his characteristically stern face.

“Yeah Cap, I don’t know much else. How am I gonna pay the bills if you keep that up?” A Fox blade called out.

“Alton, listen, things are changing for you. Your body should be cut into ten pieces. I watched a man hit you with the supposedly sharp edge of his sword directly on your forearm.” He grabbed Alton’s forearm, which showed little more than a scratch. “The strike teams adapt. That’s what we do. We will adapt to this too. One of these days I’ll catch back up to you, until then?”

Davih took a long, dramatic look around the clearing. “I’m pretty damn okay with playing second fiddle. You saved lives today, Alton. Maybe even mine. Sixty-six soldiers came over that hill, including twenty elites. That was a kill squad. We would have run back with our tails between our legs, scouts scattered or dead and the pass lost.”

The few soldiers close enough to hear were nodding. Alton thought over the words of his friend as they waited. His first feeling after the elation of battle had left him was guilt and shame. He had broken formation and risked his team advancing to his position, in his mind. As he thought about it, he realized his team wasn’t in any more danger. He vented the pressure off them by taking on more foes, allowing them to remain in formation against more equal numbers, an easy win for a strike team. His mood lifted as he looked out and realized those young, eager faces were still looking at him with respect, not disgust.

---

The observers returned with the scouts in tow. Scout team green had hidden in a ravine north of here when they spotted the Edorians advancing. They saw two additional scouting units with the heavy infantry that Alton fought. Both scouting units were either still in the area or had retreated during the fight back to the enemy camp. Alton made the decision to leave the scout team up on the pass with instructions to remain on this side and flee if contact was made. If Edoria wanted this pass enough to send elites, a scout team would not hold it.

They gathered the prisoners and roped them together by their hands. It would add time to the return, but the potential intelligence gains outweighed the risk. There were a few interpreters in the camp that were trying to learn the Edorian language from some of the more willing prisoners. Any armor or weapons that weren’t heavily damaged would also be returning. The Edorians had brought enough supplies to hold the pass for some time. Two large sleds that could be pulled by enhancers were loaded with goods.

The return down the mountain and back to camp was uneventful. It took six hours to march the prisoners all the way back. A few tried to cause trouble but gave up at any attention from Alton. When they finally reached the camp, Alton was bordering on exhaustion. He dismissed his team for the night to get some rest and cycle while he reported to command. Halfway to the tent, he was stopped by a massive man stepping out of the shadows. The man was a foot taller than Alton and dressed in a black smock.

“Alton! Damn it all, I just repaired that armor!” Lornie shouted at him in fake anger.

“Lornie, armor is meant to be destroyed. That’s the entire point of wearing it!” Alton responded with the same level of fake exasperation.

Both men laughed and embraced with a clasp of arms. Lornie was the blacksmith assigned to the specialty units. In the fourth tier himself, his command over crafting and mana infusion was impressive. Alton had known the smith since they both served in the first army together. They moved towards the inner part of the camp, chatting companionably.

“I have some new toys to test out, my friend,” Lornie said before they split near the command tent. “You should come see me at the forges.”

“I actually wanted to find you soon, anyway. Two of my new shields put down crafting as a specialization. Can I send them over tomorrow to see if they have what it takes to handle the forges?” Alton asked him.

“New kids to terrorize are always welcome in the forges, Alton, you know that.” The big man replied with a laugh.

“Tomorrow after morning exercises, then. Keep them busy,” Alton sized up his friend, “you may even meet your match in those two.”

They went their separate ways as Alton walked towards the command tent. The sun was casting the sky a shade of orange and aides were lighting the mana lamps. A tide of messengers was active in the command area, which never bode well. He nodded to the guards and waited for them to grant him entrance. A deep breath on the threshold to steady himself, and he entered.

Corbin was bent over a table near the middle of the tent, studying a map with a few others Alton didn’t know by name. He stood back off a few feet and waited for the Major to finish speaking. It sounded like the planning for an advance. Alton didn’t claim a great mind for long-term strategy, but advancing with the threat of mindless behind them didn’t seem smart.

“Alton,” Corbin finished and noticed him. He motioned for Alton to follow him and they walked over to where Colonel Riske was sitting with the other majors. “Report.”

Alton gave a detailed report and left nothing out, including his own recklessness. Part of him expected to be reprimanded for endangering his team. When he described the enemy unit types and numbers, he saw them to begin to mark locations on the map. Figurines representing each were moved around to mark the most updated location reported by longsights and scouts.

He finished his report and stood at attention to see what the result would be. The assembled command remained in thought for a moment before Corbin spoke. “Alton, your breakthrough to the fifth tier has changed so much of what we know of small team tactics. That you can stretch yourself to take on so many foes without seemingly being in danger is shocking. With just one more of you…ah time will tell if others catch up. This last elite you mentioned, would he have over matched Davih?”

Alton thought back to the fight. It had taken a lot out of him to fight the last elite, but he was already down below half of his core when it started. If he had been fresh, he felt it would have been far easier. Though the gap between him and Davih felt as large as ever right now.

“I’m not sure. Possibly Davih alone, with his team to support, I think Fox would prevail.” Alton finally said.

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“Both of you have tomorrow off to recover. Rest up, Alton. Things are changing fast. If we stay still, we allow Edoria to dig in and fortify. If we move too fast, we may find ourselves surrounded by a tide of mindless. The war hangs in the balance more precarious than ever.” Corbin said ominously.

---

Alton laid flat on his back on the bench across from the training yard for the strikers. His team went through their morning kata while he tried to recover from using multiple health potions and alta stones. He planned to let Lews take a pass at him after morning exercises rather than listen to the healers complain about using multiple potions in succession. His core felt raw and angry when he probed it, so he was without the relief mana would bring his tired body.

The fight from the day prior left him with many cuts and bruises. He couldn’t remember getting hit many times, but the evidence crisscrossed his arms, chest, and back. It seemed that his skin was tougher now. The infusion the texts spoke about a passive process rather than active. When he circulated, he still felt nothing like the pull he experienced when using Fang or infusing an alta stone.

Thinking back to his fight against the Edorian elite left him feeling satisfied. The yearning to test himself and his new limits was satiated. He spent the time thinking of new tactics his team could employ in the field with his new capabilities. If he could raise his fledgling wolves to tier five as well, they would become a devastating force.

When the kids finished their enhanced kata, Alton called them to attention and sat up on the bench. None of them had overdrawn during the mission yesterday nor required a second health potion. That left them ready to train for the first half of the day and then Alton would give them the afternoon.

“Lews, you will practice by saving me a trip to the healer’s tent. The rest of you will practice with your mana. Can any of you infuse already?” He asked.

“I can,” Letty and Nelson answered at the same time.

“Good. You two will refill the alta stones on my belt until your cores are empty, then cycle back to half and infuse again.” Alton handed them his belt and turned to the rest. “The rest of you circulate and cycle, deepen that connection with your bodies and learn it inside out. If you want to try infusing, there are enough alta stones to take one each.”

They each sat and focused on cycling. Every citizen of Agorra advanced through mana tiers at a different pace. That Letty and Nelson were already in the third tier and able to infuse was excellent progress. Alton was confident the rest of the team would be close behind them. He had no proof that combat helped advance faster, but the soldiers of Agorra were far more advanced than the regular citizens. Some debated that was selection bias, but Alton wasn’t sure.

“Lews, let’s begin. How much of the healer training have you completed?” Alton asked.

“Just a few classes, uh sir,” Lews responded.

“The healer from fox team will be here soon, until then cycle until your core is full.” Alton told the nervous mage.

—-

“Leave your manasight on always when you're trying to heal, keeps you focused. Hover your hand over the area of note and circulate to that hand. When you feel that connection, that change of pace in the mana, push through and think of what you want to accomplish. If it’s closing a fresh cut, think of the skin flowing back together. If it’s internal bleeding, think back to your texts and picture the organ whole and healthy.” Alton listened as the experienced battlefield healer lectured of Lews. They were starting with some deeper cuts on his back while he lay on his stomach on his cot.

“Lucky you to have such a glutton for punishment on your team. Most of us only get to practice in camp in the real healers’ tents on screamers or those already dead and just don’t know it. Ain’t that right, Cap?” Alton felt a thumb push against one of his wounds.

“Happy to help,” he replied sarcastically.

“Try not to focus much on different veins and such, that’s for the real boys in the infirmaries. We just need to stop the bleedin’ and keep em breathin, hah. Right there kid, hover over it and push,” Alton grimaced as he felt Lews start on the wound. “Stop your wiggling Cap, I seen you take them hits yesterday and not flinch, you’ll distract the kid. Be glad I’m not a real healer, chanting that damn chant all the time. Drives me batty, it does.”

—

“I’m here to see Lornie the blacksmith, Captain Alton sent me.” Lornie heard a deep voice with the tinge of youth say to his attendant.

“Sent him through Peg!” Lornie bellowed from his anvil, not wanting to lose his focus.

He watched from the corner of his eye as a massive chunk of man walked through the door. Sandy blonde hair with enough muscle to put even blacksmiths to shame. He had a boyish face that belied the killer behind it, if Lornie knew anything about the strikers. Damn maniacs that they were, one and all. Lornie did a double take as a mirror image of the boy walked through behind him.

“Either I hit the bottle too hard last night or you are the biggest two brutes to terrorize a mother I have ever seen. Alton certainly knows how to pick them. Names?” Lornie floated out.

“Nelson, sir,” the first said, “Miser, sir,” the second.

“First things first in my forge, its master. Out of my forge its Lornie. Never have I been nor wanted to be a sir,” Lornie replied with a grin.

“Yes, sir…uh master.” Nelson said with a laugh from his brother.

“Now, what makes the two of you want to take up crafting? Not the most uncommon specialty, but most are hardly eager to spend days off in the forges and workshops.” Lornie asked the two boys.

“Well, our pa was a blacksmith back when…well when he was alive. Made horseshoes and farm tools, mostly for the folks working the farms outside Liddiholm. Fell down a bottle and nearly gambled the business away. Had to use our sign-on bonuses to keep the business for our younger brother and ma. Figure it’s a good skill to have if we survive our here and make it back home.” Miser answered with a flat face that spoke of a hard life to Lornie.

“Ah. Bottle gets the best of us sometimes. Any particular area you interested in?” Lornie asked.

“I want to craft armor and weapons using mana. I can already infuse and think I’d pass tier three if the mages tested me again.” Nelson replied with a shrug.

“Tools that we can use in the field. We got to see some bangers in one of my electives at the academy. Wouldn’t mind a few of those on my next mission.” Miser replied with a devilish grin.

“Well, you I can help,” Lornie pointed to Nelson. “You, I have the perfect workshop in mind for you, old friend of mine. Just see that you keep your fingers, unlike her, can’t hold a sword with half a hand.” He laughed and inclined his head towards the door.

—-

Sergeant Rork of Fox team watched the two young blades spar in the practice yard. Each of them wanted to be an enhancer and since Alton was out of commission for the day, he agreed to step in. Rork specialized in body enhancement differently than Alton, who preferred both speed and power in equal measure. Rork focused purely on speed. Three hits would kill just as easily as one, and he got hit in return a lot less.

When Rork was describing his preferred fighting style, he could see Rico’s eyes light up. As someone with a slight build, he would benefit greatly from it. The girl was doing her best, certainly, but Rork could tell her heart wasn’t in it. He had them circulating through lower legs and forearms down as they sparred for this session. Trading the power from the larger muscle groups for quicker responses and movements from the smaller. Stretching out each’s effective mana core size for longer and allowing each to move far faster than normal.

The result was a lot of frustrated stumbling and Rork had to remind himself not to laugh. He could tell there was some serious competition going on between the two blades of Wolf team. Playing second fiddle to Alton was a prize that many would covet, no doubt.

—

Letty grunted in frustration as she strained to fill the alta stone from Captain Alton’s belt. Nelson had left to visit the forges and learn to be a smith, leaving her alone in the yard. She alternated cycling and infusing until her core felt raw and abused. Knowing that they would be back on mission rotation, she decided to drain her core one last time and the cycle it back to full overnight.

She had almost accomplished filling one stone; the stones adorning the belt had incredible capacity. It amazed her that Alton had drained them all during the fight with the Edorians. Amazed her and scared her, if she was honest with herself. The man was a monster out of legend both times they had been in combat. She thanked the Mad God he was on her side. She feared his Edorian equivalents out there, somewhere.

—

Prian crouched down low as he sat in the wild grass growing north of the camp. His counterpart from Fox was out there somewhere approaching, and his job was to spot him before he entered kill range. He activated manasight and scanned his surroundings again, trying to stay focused. When his nerves couldn’t handle it anymore, he carefully crept through the grass with his bow drawn.

He heard a sound off to his right and pivoted, arrow out. Nothing registered in his vision, nor his manasight. Taking a deep breath to settle himself, he breathed out in a sigh.

“Dead.” A voice sounded behind him.

Prian panicked and turned to see the Fox observer standing behind him, looking bored. He sagged down to his knees in frustration and dropped his bow. Third time in a row he hadn’t seen him coming. The man was basically invisible when he wanted to be.

“Again.” Prian said with hope in his eye. He would get this right. His teammates depended on him to get this right.

---

Chant of the Healer

“In the quiet hush of the waning night,

Whispers of mending, a chant of light.

Gentle hands, a touch, kind,

Bind the wounds, heart and mind.

From the Earth’s embrace, we draw strength

Energies weave, entwine and lengthen

By this chant, the cuts we mend,

In sacred rhythm, our spirits blend.

Soothing words, a balm of peace,

May pain and hurt forever cease.

Threads of healing, woven true,

Bind the flesh, spirits too.

By the power of these sacred lines,

With every word, reaching you and transcending time.

Cut and wound, be gone, be revealed,

In the harmony of this chant, healed.

As screams fade, let the healing flow,

In sacred cadence, let limbs regrow.

By this chant, the cuts erase,

In love and light, this a healing space.