A group of three officers stood to their feet as he galloped toward them on his black stallion. Johnis wiped the sweat from his brow and fixed his jaw.

“Who commands?” Johnis demanded, pulling his horse up hard.

“Who comes?” a fighter with the slash marks of a captain asked.

“Johnis,” he said. “With urgent business. Are you in charge?”

“You have a script?”

“There wasn’t time for formal orders. My word carries the authority of the supreme commander, Thomas Hunter. And the longer we talk, the greater the danger. Who commands?”

“What is the word of a sergeant? What’s the business?”

“I can’t speak to anyone but the commander. Hurry, man, tell me!”

“Mind your rank!” the captain snapped.

The second of the three, another captain by his marks, stepped forward and placed his hand on the first captain’s arm. “Johnis, you say. Johnis of Ramos?”

“It is.”

The man’s eyes brightened, and he dipped his head. “Johnis of Ramos, Captain Hilgard of Middle. We’ve all heard of your victory. The word of any fighter who single-handedly turned back the Horde is an honor to hear.”

The third soldier, a sergeant, hurried forward and took a knee. “It’s an honor, sir. We are indebted.”

“But the captain isn’t sure?” Johnis drilled the first officer with the hardest look he could muster.

For a long moment the captain he’d first offended held his eyes. A grin slowly crossed his face. “You’re the runt who survived the desert, then.”

“I’m the appointee of Thomas who can only follow his orders before it’s too late.”

“Forgive me, then, lad. I’m in charge. Boris of Eastern. What are the orders?”

“To give me temporary command of your group,” Johnis said. He covered any hesitation in his voice by using more volume and glancing over their shoulders at the five hundred men sitting or standing around their fires. “I need the men ready to move out in five minutes.”

He started to turn his horse as if the matter was settled. Standard operating procedure required that all front guard units be always ready to break camp in under five minutes, but such an order would come only in times of immediate threat.

“Thomas ordered this?” Captain Boris demanded.

Johnis faced him again, flexing his jaw. “The middle village celebrated me late into the night because I offered my life to save yours, Captain,” he bit off. “Now if you want to undo all that I’ve done, then hesitate. But every minute you stand there and question the supreme commander’s authority will cost more lives. Choose now, or let me find a more worthy captain!”

“Easy, lad! I’ve offered my life in a hundred battles; don’t speak to me as if I’m a horse! Now, for the sake of Elyon, tell me what the orders are.”