”Cease fire! Cease Fire! Talon yelled, scrambling over to where Raemos lay, bleeding and dazed, “Man down!” He started on first aid, running through the list of able healers in his mind. He had a few. “You, Private!” he snapped at one of them, “Help me here. Now.” The young Peisio hybrid anxiously got to work.
Talon patched Raemos up as best he could and glowered after the ball of light after it faded into the distance, beyond his sight. “That damn khehora.” he cursed. Assured of Raemos's survival, he turned on his troop.
“What in Oblivions name were you lot doing?!” he shouted. Selza had always told him to watch his temper but to hell with that, “Did you all suddenly become incompetent while resting?! You-” he gestured at his close-range combatants, “Were supposed to back him up and relieve him from the front line. And you -” he gestured to the archers and mages, “Were supposed to cover and harass. NOT SIT ON YOUR ASSES AND WATCH!”
“We thought he was handling it, sir.” said a dovaa, a Corporal, “He... usually does.”
“I DON'T CARE ABOUT USUALLY, CORPORAL.” shouted Talon, “I care about making sure my men live. If you lot had sat on your asses one second sooner... he'd be meat. MEAT, do you hear me?!” Talon scowled at his men, “You stick to strategy. You stay consistent. You back him up. Even if he's 'handling' it – you back him up. Is that clear? Soudana's blood, is it clear?!”
“Yes sir...” came the demoralized chorus.
“Thankfully, he's not dead.” Talon looked him over, “As it is, though, he's going to have to be transported back to HQ to be treated properly. You lot...” he pointed to four of his troops in turn, including one of the healers, “You take him back tomorrow. We make camp here for the day and night and make sure he's travelworthy. The rest of us will move on to the mission.” He stood up straight. “Right. Proceed to set up camp.” he saluted.
“Aye Sir!” they saluted back and went about the business of setting up camp and a makeshift infirmary. HE shook his head as he watched them begin.
“Idiots.” he growled, feeling disgruntled and, in the pit of his stomach, cold. He'd be writing a report on this, oh yes. And his probationary would be delivering it personally.
