CHAPTER 38: WILDERNESS CONVOY

Wind slid through the pines. Three wagons, canvas tight. Dummies seated. Proctors flagged the trail and read the rules: crosswinds live, sound lures live, light use penalized, unsafe discharges fail.

"Team Valcrey," Pierce called.

"Here," I said. Gareth took left, Pelham right, Lyra walked the civilians, Rooke the tool box. I took front.

"Left flank watches ground," I said. "Right watches wheels. Lyra, keep order. Rooke, tell me if anything hums wrong. If I say ’low knees,’ sink and ride it."

We rolled into shade. I sent Hollow up for a short circle, tight leash. He clicked once: crossflow ahead. I raised my hand for slow. Gareth built a small dirt lip to guide a wheel over a rut. Lyra counted rows without breaking stride. Pelham kept to the rope lines and found one loose knot. He fixed it, jaw set.

A sound lure cried on the right fork. The left climbed quiet. "Left," I said. We took the hill.

At the first flag we checked lines and drank. "Next slope is sharp," Rooke said. "You’ll want a brace."

"Noted."

The trees opened and the wind hit diagonal. "Chord frame," I said. Lyra marked four points and hummed once; a thin wall steadied the push. We kept it to the side of the wagons, not in front.

A rope bridge waited around the bend. The left anchor had the clean scrape of a recent reset. The right carried weight.

"Stop," I said. I walked the boards and felt the rails. "Gareth, berm on the left approach; Pelham, check planks; Rooke, listen to the right post."

"Hum’s clean," he said. "Top wrap loose."

Aldric Voss arrived like a storm he’d ordered. Lightning crawled on his knuckles. He stepped on the bridge and sent a showy flick along the rope. The far wrap jerked.

"Hold," I told my team. Pierce’s voice carried from the trees: "Unsafe discharge on a structure is a failing action. Try it again."

Aldric lowered his hand. I met his eyes. "You loosened your own bridge," I said. "Back off and let us brace it."

He backed two paces because pride never fixes rope.

"Rope," I told Pelham.

"I don’t know knots," he said, honest.

"Then hold," I said. He set his hands and held while I tied a clean wrap. I used a spare rib as a backing plate, nothing more.

"Boar up," I said. The new chassis rolled to the near rail and set. "Lyra, narrow frame above shoulder height."

She nodded and built it light. The bridge stopped whispering.

"Crossing order," I said. "One, two, three. I walk the side. Gareth at the far end. Pelham right rail. Rooke eyes on planks. Lyra, walk with wagon two."

We moved. First wagon crossed clean. Second rocked, then settled. The third started; a gust hit hard; the right rear wheel lifted a finger; the lead ox balked.

"Low knees," I said. Everyone sank. The wheel kissed wood again. "Hold," I told the ox without heat. It settled.

"Marrow," I said. He braced at the post, small added weight. The wagon rolled to good boards. We made the far side.

We kept pace steady. No hunching, no rush. Hollow stayed low and short. Lyra widened the frame by a thumb to block a sneaky gust. Gareth built two quick lips without a word. Pelham flagged a wobble; Rooke tightened a pin. Our picture matched.

South Watch showed through the trees: low wall, gate, smoke. We brought the wagons in and let the dummies down. Pierce marked three clean lines on his slate.

"Team Valcrey," he said. "Notes: restraint, solid brace, boring crossing. That’s praise."

"Thank you," I said.

Lyra exhaled once. Good. Gareth rolled his wrists. Pelham sat and looked at his hands like they were finally his. Rooke closed the box with a quiet click.

Aldric arrived late with scuffed planks. He glanced our way and said nothing. Good.

Cael came in tidy and quick. He gave me a nod; I returned it.

Pierce posted the sheet. Cael first. We sat beneath by a breath. Elara next. Seraphine’s mark further down. I didn’t stare.

We ate. The stew tasted better than yesterday because no one fell into the net. I wrote the day in my head in four lines: ignored the lure, used a frame, fixed a rope, crossed.

Liora walked into the yard with a folded note. She gave it to Pierce. He read, then lifted his voice.

"Zero-Light Labyrinth in two days," he said. "No lamplight. You get banded shields and blank maps. If you have approved low-light tools, register now. If you don’t, don’t make any tonight."

I thought of the Bone Lantern in my pack and of Lyra’s careful hands. "We’ll register," I said to my team. Gareth nodded. Pelham swallowed and didn’t joke. Rooke looked relieved.

"Debrief in one hour," Pierce added. "No stories in the yard."

On the walk back, Lyra peeled off to check Refuge stores at the outpost. Gareth asked about berm height again; I showed him with a boot heel on the path. Pelham carried the toolbox, not because I said so but because it needed carrying.

Back at the gate the wind eased. The pines made a softer sound, like breath let out. I checked the boar’s ligatures and retied one knot I hadn’t liked since morning. Thread stayed clean. I kept the satisfaction small and put the tool away.

In the debrief tent, Pierce gave short notes to each team. He didn’t say my name out loud; he stamped the page. "Convoy complete," he said. "Captain Valcrey, keep doing dull things that save time."

After, Cael found me at the water barrel. "Good work," he said. "You kept the floor honest without talking too much."

"You made our bridge easier," I said. He had laid aura on the far landing when we crossed; I’d felt it and used it without pointing.

He shrugged. "You called a safe pace. That’s rare here."

"Trying to make it less rare."

He left with his team. Liora stopped only long enough to say, "Register the lantern," and moved on, blue eyes scanning, mind already one day ahead.

When the yard emptied I sat on a step and wrote a short list for tomorrow: mentor hours, lantern registration, map practice with Gareth and Lyra, rope drill with Pelham. No move names. Just work.

The bell rang the hour. The sky leaned toward evening. Somewhere on campus a hammer hit a peg three times and stopped. Students spilled stories on the walkways; I kept ours simple.

We would be ready in two days. We would go slow in the dark and keep the map honest. If a wall pushed back, we would not argue with it. We would move the way a building prefers you to move inside it. That was a lesson Dorian had given me and I intended to keep it.

I picked up the folder and headed for the registrar. The Bone Lantern felt light in the pack. Useful. Nothing more. The rest would be feet and breath.

The pines kept hissing. The trail would still be there tomorrow. So would the work.