Firstborn of the Frontier

Whether by luck or design, my name don’t make it into the hat for night watch duty, so I sleep beneath the twin moons and wake as the rising, ruby red sun sets the amber skies aflame.

It’s a beautiful sight to behold, one I hear many older folk say is prettier than the sunrises back home, with their blue skies and yellow sun. Apparently, the old world skies can get this same amber colour sometimes when the light hits just right. Seems strange for a sky to change colour so often, but then again, they think it’s odd to see stars during the day and white grass covering the plains, so it’s really all a matter of perspective. Fact is, one of my favourite things is waking up this, where I blink the sleep out of my eyes and focus on the twinkling stars overhead, just barely visible in the early light and hiding the mysteries of the universe out there in plain sight. There are times when I can almost see a pattern in those heavenly bodies, a sequence of twinkling stars that puts me in mind of a flowing Spell Structure, but one far greater and more complex than I can comprehend. What I see in the morning light is something I imagine might well be the Spell Structure that defines quantum reality as we perceive it, that which keeps the Immaterium separate from the physical world while also intertwined with it at the same time.

Or maybe they’re just twinkling stars doing their thing off in the vast emptiness of space, and I study magic so much that I even dream about it. Who knows.

The important thing is I’m rested, recharged and ready to go, so I spend a bit of time poring over the Spell Structures in my mind. Sunrise stargazing always puts me in a mood to study, because seeing the grand scale of things helps put my own troubles into perspective. Motivates me to work hard too, because the only way to get good at Spellslinging is to start from the bottom and work your way up to the top. Got spurned yesterday by Ava for saying I was loaded heavy, which was true, since a gun that only shoots two or three times before it’s gotta undergo eight hours of maintenance ain’t of much practical use. Won’t let that bring me down though, because I’m working on raising my limits each and every day. Progress is incremental at best, but all the more reason to keep at it each and every chance you get, which is something most folks don’t care to remember. When they see my skills, they always ask if I know some ‘ancient Qinese secret’ that got me slinging Spells so good, then get all prissy and upset when I tell them that there ain’t no secret. I got a head start on my peers thanks to my age and natural talent, but it’s hard work which keeps me ahead, and I aim to stay ahead right on up until the Watershed, then push even further once I can.

From Cantrips to First Order Spells, then Second, Third, and more, these are all steps on the path towards arcane mastery. They say the Immortal Monarchs of the old world were capable of casting Ninth Order Spells, utilizing Spell Structures that required whole textbooks to depict their mathematical models, and several more to explain how they work. That sounds mighty grand to me, but I ain’t exactly aiming to become an Immortal Monarch. I mean to follow this path as far as it will take me, no more, no less. Ain’t no real reason why, except to say I love slinging Spells is all, especially ones that go boom. Besides, having a plethora of Cantrips helps a lot in everyday life, and I can’t fathom why others won’t take the time to learn them. Ten, twenty, forty hours of study, however long it takes I’d say it’s worth, because once you’re finished, you got yourself a Cantrip Structure embedded in memory from now until the day you die, unless for some reason you decide you don’t want it no more. A real sweet deal if you ask me, one that will pay triples dividends since they help push your Spellcasting limits every time you use them and elevate your understanding of each school.

Besides, they’re so darn useful you’ll be using them everyday. Like the ‘bed’ I’m sleeping on with Cowie. Dirt ain’t ever gonna be as soft as hay or feather, but spend a little bit of time and effort with the Mould Earth Cantrip and you got yourself a raised earth bed with nice rounded lumps to support your head, back, and neck. Sitting up with Cowie still snuggled in my arms, I spoil him a bit with a hug and cuddle, because while I like to watch the stars when I wake, he likes to watch me, and its cute as all heck. Once he’s finally ready to start the day, I use the Water Sphere Cantrip to wet a cloth and wash our faces, which I then clean with Prestidigitation. A right useful Cantrip it is, that does a whole lot of things, but is most useful for cleaning, softening food, and making hard-tack actually taste palatable, though it still feels like you eating sawdust. I used to experiment with making Cowie’s oats and grains taste better, but he much prefers them natural, so I leave him to his meal while I check the weather with Druidcraft.

Another useful Cantrip, albeit one that ain’t all that specific, but it emits a warm, golden glow from my hands for a few seconds to tell me that there will be sunny skies ahead. Could still run into a sandstorm or an earthquake or something, but at least I know it won’t rain or snow today or tomorrow. Now, some might say that’s obvious, seeing how we headed into the desert, but that don’t mean it don’t got precipitation. Every now and then you get a flash storm come on, soaking the sand in rain for a quarter-hour or so, and it can get real cold out there after the sun goes down. Besides, more information is always better, even if it don’t seem useful, because you never know what might come in handy later on down the line.

To round out my morning routine, I hit myself with Deodorant and Prestidigitation to take care of general cleanliness, which is just about the next best thing to soap and water. Then I give Cowie a Bolstering Compliment to raise his spirits and Console him to let him really know he’s loved and cherished. Not the most useful Cantrips, as they don’t seem to do much really, but it gets him ready and raring to go for the day. Could also be the extra little boost he needs to shake off enemy Enchantments, which is always a concern. While there ain’t all that many Enchanters out there, having grown up next door to a family full of them, I seen enough of what they can do to rightly be concerned. Last thing I need is for Abby to whisper Madness into Cowie’s mind and turn him against me, because there ain’t a thing I care to do to stop him.

Don’t matter if he gores me clean and stomps me dead, I ain’t ever gonna shoot my partner. Had to put down his mama the day I met her, gutted and dying after a fight against Abby to protect her baby, and it still hurts to think about to this day. Thankfully, Cowie’s an understanding soul and found it in him to forgive me, so I figured the least I can do is love and care for him like family.

Even after I’m done eating and washing up, most the boots are still fast asleep in their bedrolls. A mistake to indulge them so, because a bedroll is a bulky addition to your kit, which is why I do without. Got a pair of blankets instead, which has many other uses too, so I got used to going without unless absolutely necessary. Don’t get me wrong, I like being comfy as much as the next person, but all those minor conveniences you just can’t live without are like shackles out on the open road, or at least extra burdens weighing you down. That’s how my daddy saw it, and how I see it too, though I don’t got it in me to warn Tina about succumbing to the lap of luxury. She’s looking snug as a bug in a rug wrapped in her bedroll, fast asleep and surrounded by a whole flock of kiccaws who took it upon themselves to protect her. Doing a terrible job of it, as they all sleeping too, letting out soft, whistling snores that are far too cute for a creature that squawks as ugly as they do. Still take a quick Photograph anyways, because Chrissy and Aunty Ray will want to see it, and I only just stop myself from making a video too, because Tina’d never forgive me if I catch her snoring.

With nothing but free time on my hands, I recheck my kit and saddlebags to make sure I got everything I’ll need, from ammo, tools, components, and more. It’s still dark enough that I could use a light, so I cast the Dancing Light Cantrip inside the bag and turn the brightness way down, instead of risking waking anyone with the harsh glare of the undimmable Light Cantrip. Then I get to casting my daily safeguards, namely Hearing Protection and Protection from Insects. Proper First Order Spells like Mage Armour and Eagle Eye can wait, since they don’t last as long and will require multiple casts to get me through the day. Could do without, but you never know when the extra protection or added perception might save your life, so I keep them up as often as I can when out on the Frontier. Risk developing near-sightedness, overusing Eagle Eye like that, because then you get used to using the Spell to focus instead of the muscles in your face, but it’s worth it. See, great as manual Spellslinging might be, it ain’t without its flaws. Without Metamagics, the fastest you can cast a Spell is exactly 2.5 seconds, which incidentally is the same amount of time it takes for a Spell Core to prime. Similarly, it takes a caster at least 2.5 seconds to wind down after slinging a Spell, time in which you can’t start casting a second one. It’s a bit like having to take a deep breath after a good, long exhale, one you can’t stop until you done. All of which means it takes me 7.5 seconds at minimum to cast Mage Armour and Eagle Eye, which is a lot of time in a firefight, so better to precast and be ready at all times. 7.5 seconds is more than enough to empty my Rattlesnake twice if I’m quick about it instead of passing the job over to my Mage Hands, which have been playing cat’s cradle this whole time by themselves. Used to take a fair amount of focus to get them to work independently from me, but these days, they might as well be the hands I was born with.

“How many Cantrips do you know?”

The question catches me off-guard as I turn to face Kacey, who’s still wrapped up in her bedroll across the way and glaring just as hard as ever. Didn’t notice her there when I went to sleep, and only now do I realize that the other three girl boots are also sleeping close by, while the guys are further away. Probably by unspoken agreement, offering the ladies a little more privacy, so why didn’t no one tell me to move? Even Sarah Jay ain’t close by, snuggled up with Errol somewhere, and I feel my cheeks heat up even as I try to play it cool. “Uh – Whaa?”

Real smooth and smart Howie. Just grunt. That’ll impress her good.

Kacey repeats her question, adding, “By my count, you have cast twelve Cantrips since last night, with none of them standard fare save for Deodorant, Umbrella, and Hearing Protection, and only one hailing from the School of Divination which you supposedly specialize in.”

“Now who’s staring?” I ask, flashing her a big smile that’s more than real as she sulks a bit at being called out. After a leaving her to stew for a beat, I shrug and say, “Dunno. Least 50? There are 16 standard Divination Cantrips and 10 Evocation, all of which I know.” Not to mention at least four Evocation Cantrips I don’t know, because the churches keep them secret. Rude is what that is, especially given how effective those Cantrips are against certain Abby. “Ain’t ever sat down and counted the rest.” Why bother? Easier to count the ones I don’t know, like Enchantment’s Enhance Allure, or Coinshot, which Tim uses to fling random bits of metal when he’s bored.

“Why learn so many?” Kacey asks, smoothing her hair as she sits up, but she looks good all dishevelled with her shirt ruffled like that. “Would your time not be better spent focusing on more important matters, like doing almost anything else?”

Again, I shrug, but not before turning around right quick so as not to stare at the lovely Nipponese beauty. “Why do anything ever? Because I enjoy it. Most Cantrips I learned are ones that interest me, or have some niche use, though I will say I ain’t ever used no Elemental Blade or Echoing Strike in an actual combat scenario.” Which I only mention as a bit of a probe. Considering how many knives Kacey carries around, there’s no way she doesn’t know those two Evocation Cantrips, but she doesn’t take the bait.

Instead, she changes tack. “Strange,” she begins, speaking as she rummages through her bags to get ready for the day. “Yesterday, you stared like a hungry predator while I was fully dressed, yet now you are too shy to even take a glance?”

“Predators get that look about them for two reasons,” I reply, my excuse locked and loaded the moment she caught me staring yesterday. “They either see prey, or competition.”

Can’t tell how she takes it, as I’m working real hard not to steal a glance, but all I hear is silence followed by a little high-pitched yawn. Inari likely, and I realize Kacey knows at least one Cantrip I don’t, namely Bind Companion. Would be nice to learn it, especially if she’s teaching, though I hear it’s a tough specialty to get into.

“Good. You’re both up.” Being large and bulky as he is, Marcus got no right being as sneaky and silent as he is, and he puts a right scare into when he pops up outta nowhere. “Howie,” he begins, gently guiding me over for a pow-wow with Kacey, who fully dressed and out of her bedroll. “I want you riding point with Kacey here. No more exercises, this is for real now, so look sharp and keep safe. Bring us as the bird flies, avoiding any towns or settlements. We got guns enough to punch through any Abby in our path, so you get us a warning and we’ll handle the rest. I’ll have skirmishers about fifteen minutes out, but I want you ranging an hour or two ahead. Kacey, you learn what you can from Howie. He’s been riding solo for two years now, and he’s still in one piece, so I suppose he knows what he’s doing better than most.” Giving me a knock on the head, he adds, “Even if he’s got more sand than sense in that big head of his.”

The somewhat backwards compliment still has me beaming bright, and doubly so since I’ll be riding with Kacey. I even magnanimously ignore the comment about my perfectly normal-sized head as I listen to the rest of Marcus’ instructions. “Signal of the day is Reckless,” he says with a glare, warning me to be anything but, “And response is Abandon. If you got something hot on your heels, emergency call is Divine, confirmation Fury. Got it?”

“Yes Captain, my Captain,” I respond, throwing out a lazy salute as Kacey snaps off a more official one, before shooting me yet another dark glare for my cheeky response. I figure it’s fine. Ain’t no one told me where I stand in the chain of command, except it’s obvious I’m at least one step above anyone else my age, so I get to it without missing a beat. “Grab your gear and your horse and meet me out front,” I say, then wait a beat before clapping my hands to hurry her along. “That means now. Go.”

Can’t help poking the bear with her, as she got a real mean glare, but cute at the same time. Those honey-brown eyes and round cheeks are what does it.

As I turn back to Marcus with a grin, he gives me another look, having picked up on what I’m putting down. “We’re trusting you here Howie,” he says, all serious as can be. “So no messing around. That includes using your authority to bully poor boots, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” I say, though I will say that most Rangers bully the boots at least a little, so why can’t I? “One quick question though. If I kill anything out there, do I get to keep it, or is this an ‘All belongs to the Rangers’ sort of situation?”

“What did I just say Howie?” Hunkering down to meet me eye to eye, Marcus puts on his meanest face and growls, “No. Messing. Around. You a Scout, so if you find trouble, report it.”

“Yea, yea, I get it, but this here is the Coral Desert.” Giving him my most innocent expression, I explain, “Tend to find gobbos running around all willy nilly and the odd orc or two even. Hardly seems worth the effort to report a handful of stragglers, so...?”

Marcus holds his angry glare for long seconds, but I don’t back down one bit, even though I know he could break me like a twig. “Fine,” he eventually says, sounding angry as can be. “You kill something and cart it back without Ranger assistance, then it’s yours. Leave Cowie and your wagon here though. Not about to have you riding through the desert with more than a tonne of live ammunition.”

“Yus sir, Captain Clay, sir,” I say, giving him a proper salute at attention, which earns me a scoff and ‘light’ tap to the ribs. Chuckling as I throw on my armoured plate carrier, I head off to saddle Sunshine before giving baby Cowie’s cheeks a big old rub. “You gonna be riding with the convoy, okay?” I say, and he gives a big ol’ huff in response. “Sorry partner. You heard Marcus. Wagon stays here, and ain’t no one to pull it besides you, mister big strong bull that you are.” That gets his butt wiggling, and he turns big just to prance and strut his stuff for a bit, a show that gets a couple early risers to giggling.

Before I go, I cast Mage Armour on him just in case, and make a note to have Danny look into crafting Cowie a set of armour or something. There’ll come a time when my partner won’t have to pull a wagon no more and can ride in the passenger seat of my automobile, but a lot can happen between now and whenever we get those going. Again, likely not until after the Watershed, so I gotta keep Cowie safe until then. I throw a Mage Armour on myself too, because it lasts for 3 hours now, or round about. The goal is 12 or 24, because then I could cast it once or twice a day and have it up permanently without sacrificing too many Spell casts. As for Eagle Eye, I’ve got that Spell lasting 6 hours a cast now, which I’d say is mighty impressive. That’s the difference between Abjuration and Divination though, at least for me, as there’s no way a Spell from my third worst school of magic can match a Spell from my best. From there, it goes Evocation, Conjuration, and Transmutation, then the rest, though I will say that I’m naturally better at Conjuration, but have put a lot more hours into Evocation just because.

I’m a simple man. If Spell go boom, then Howie likey, and Evocation is all about making them big booms.

Kacey arrives in full gear soon enough, with bow, daggers, and even a Strelky strapped to her red filly’s harness, but still too slow for my liking. “Best learn to do without Makeup,” I say as she shows up with mascara and eyeliner to highlight her naturally beautiful eyes, and it does wonders to her glare. Did something to her cheeks to make them bones pop too, but I don’t know enough to say what. Makes her look more mature sorta, but her glare still the same as I say, “Abby don’t care if you got your good face on before they rip it off.” Ignoring her scowl, I run her through the list of essentials to make sure she’s got everything she’ll need, and have her dump the things she won’t onto the wagon, like her bedroll. “You don’t got a bigger hat?” I ask, eying her military cap with all of an inch of brim out front, if that. She shakes her head, and I shake mine in turn. “You ought to get one. Desert sun is gonna roast you alive, even with the Umbrella Cantrip helping filter out that UV. Get your goggles and kerchief ready too. Won’t do to have you fumbling around your packs as a sandstorm is coming on.” Glancing at her thin, loose fabric pants, I add, “Future note, jeans would be better than whatever it is those pants are made of. Lots of thorny brush in the desert, and ain’t no Spell to cure infections.”

I get the sense that all my badgering ain’t winning me any points, but I got a job to do and I mean to do it. Pretty as Kacey is, I ain’t one to go all moon eyed for a smile and a wink. Not to say I ain’t interested, but it ain’t all about her pretty face and piercing glares. Even a friendship would be nice, because it’d be nice to know if she went through the same things I did. Growing up in New Hope meant I was the only Qin within two-thousand klicks, and the only yellow kid in town. Wasn’t all that bad when I was young, but got a whole lot worse after my daddy died. No, not worse. I just didn’t have him shielding me from the worst no more, as most folks waited for him to move out of earshot before daring to mention the Yellow Devil. That’s what they called him, alongside the Silver Arbiter and the Dark Judge, my daddy, the Marshal, and Marcus. Those other two names come from their sidearms, but wasn’t no one calling my daddy the Rattlesnake, now was there? And why Devil? He didn’t do nothing to nobody who didn’t deserve it, so why they gotta do him dirty like that?

I know good and well that most didn’t mean nothing by it, that they called him a Devil because he fought like one, but it’s the little things that stand out now that I’m older and wiser. Like how every time we played Cowboys and Aberrations, the other kids always made me play Abby. Don’t suit the image of a cowboy, now do I? Don’t get me wrong, we was all kids without an ounce of hate for one another, and I tore it up as Abby chasing the other kids around. Thing is, I can’t remember if they made me play Abby because I enjoyed it, or if I made it fun because I was always Abby.

As for other people with yellow skin, Captain Jung aside, Kacey and her oversized brother are about the only ones I really talked to. Most yellow folk give me the evil eye whenever they see me, which was why I got all hopping mad when I saw someone I thought was my age doing it. Plus I got so many questions about stuff in general, like why’s Kacey’s hair light brown? I thought all people with yellow skin had black hair. Is it natural, does she dye it, or is it part of an Innate Brand? Her name actually Kacey, or is that anglicized for something Nipponese? What sorts of food does she eat? My daddy was always going on about soybeans and how we was missing out on an integral part of Qin cuisine, and I hear Nipponese like them some soybeans too. They ever find a replacement here on the Frontier, like we did for onions and potatoes? Would love to have a taste and see what I was missing out on, but that’s just one small part of the things I want to know about growing up yellow in a white man’s world.

All that can wait though, as I see to business first, showing Kacey the ropes as we ride out into the desert proper. By lunch time, I’ve got a decent idea of where she’s at, and Mr. Morrison wasn’t kidding when he said she’d be my closest competition. Scouting is simple, as it mostly involves keeping your eyes open and knowing what to look for. Anyone can do it really, but that don’t make it easy. The mark of a good scout is the ability to maintain your focus for eight to twelve hours at a time. Like Michael, who stayed on task the entire time, as opposed to Nate who got bored five minutes in and might as well have been riding with both eyes closed. As for Kacey, she’s every bit as focused and vigilant as Michael except it comes naturally to her, taking in all there is to see while simultaneously absorbing the lessons I lay out for her.

It’s mostly the general stuff, like how to maximize your field of view while minimizing the risk of being spotted, or how to pace your water intake so you don’t overhydrate and end up watering the plants instead. There’s a lot to cover in just a single day, and I hit all the high points as quick as I can, though she’ll still have to practice and discover some things on her own. Or so I thought, because after the first day passes by without incident, Kacey shows up first thing the next morning ready to ride out with me a second time. Let’s me go into more details and specifics, like how to spot signs of passage in the shifting sands and what local flora and fauna to watch out for. We get together on the fourth day of travel too, and I continue our lessons in earnest, right up until mid-afternoon as we descend down the lee-side of a dune and my jimmies get to rustling.

Ain’t exactly sure why, but I ain’t about to stop and gawk, so I slowly and casually angle us away from the flats we was headed towards. Makes my jimmies rustle a little less, but not by much, so I make a careful study of our surroundings to see what my conscious mind has missed. There’s nothing too alarming about the wide valley unfolding east of us, just a short hundred metres of flat desert sands until we reach the base of the next towering dune. Can see a good distance to the north and south too, so no chance of an ambush succeeding from either direction, but despite how safe it appears, I ain’t comfortable moving forward just yet and keep skirting the edges of the flats.

Until it strikes me. There’s a stillness to the sand, an emptiness to the desert that doesn’t sit right, a darkness to the shadows that strikes me as just a bit too unnatural. Could be nerves, or could be a natural sheltered valley here in the desert, but I got them alarm bells ringing now and set course north, straight perpendicular from our original heading. While I try to make sense of the strangeness and figure out what’s got my jimmies in a twist, Kacey decides this is a good time to challenge my competence. “When will you speak on Divination?” she asks, glaring for all she’s worth from behind her fresh, fetching tan. “It’s been three days, and I have yet to see you cast a single Divination Spell besides Eagle Eye.”

“Because I don’t need no Spell besides it,” I reply, though I do feel the need to add, “Not just yet at least. We ain’t looking for trouble, we’re on the lookout for it, understand?”

Unwilling to cave and accept my words for Gospel, Kacey hits back with, “You are often praised as one of the best Diviners of our generation, yet I have seen no evidence to explain why.”

“Because the true value of a Diviner lies not in how well or often they sling their Spells,” I counter, using something the Marshal has told me many a time, “But how the caster interprets the results of the Spells they use.” Giving her a second to chew on that, I continue scoping our surroundings and find nothing out of place in the still and empty sands, but push our pace just a little faster all the same.

“An adage I have heard many a time before.” Moving up to make sure I can see her glare, Kacey watches me from behind her surly gaze as she adds, “Though I fail to see how it applies to you. You are concerned, apprehensive about our current surroundings, yet instead of utilizing your lauded Divination skills to better gauge the situation, you stare aimlessly at nothing and turn tail to hide.”

“Caught that, did you? Clever girl.” My grin only grows wider as I take in her frustration at my refusal to rise to her bait, but I don’t let my eyes linger on her for long. “Don’t like the look of things ahead. Can’t say what for sure, so we gonna circle around and take a look from a different angle.”

As I turn my gaze back towards the empty sands, I do a double take back at Kacey when she pulls out an Aberrtin tuning fork and holds it up between two fingers. My surprise is partially because of how pure it is, so dark and opaque it looks like a void in the world rather than an actual physical object. Means she’s got indulgent parents or a wealthy sponsor helping to train her up, as there’s enough Aberrtin compressed inside that tiny tuning fork to build a dozen darksteel gates like the one I saw in Pleasant Dunes. The other reason for my surprise is because I recognize the Spell she’s in the process of casting, one I ought to interrupt, but I don’t see how I could short of tackling her off her horse.

So I sit there and watch as she mutters the words to her Detect Aberration Spell and smacks the tuning fork against her palm. There’s no sound, so she turns to me with a triumphant smile to declare, “There are no Aberrations within a fifty-metre radius.”

“Uh-huh.” Glancing around us at the sparse, open desert, with nary a plant or hidey hole to be found, I add, “Could’ve told you as much and saved you the effort. That’s a First Order Spell you just wasted. How many of those you get a day? Eight? Nine?”

Scowling as she crosses her arms, she wipes her brow and mutters, “Eleven.”

“Not bad.” Not good either, nor should she really have revealed as much, because limitations are a weakness that can be used against you. “They don’t teach resource management in Basic, or you not get to those lessons just yet?” I ask, my tone harsher than intended, but I expected better from her. “You start slinging Spells every time you get spooked, and you won’t make it halfway through the day before you’re spent. Especially if you use ‘em to get answers anyone with eyes could tell you, or cast it as a Spell instead of Ritual, which don’t drain you none.”

“You are the one who is spooked!” It’s adorable how awkward she sounds as she throws the unfamiliar words back at me, all stilted and precise to make sure she gets all the syllables out right, which only adds fuel to her fiery glare. “And fifty metres is the exact limit listed in the Spell Compendium for a novice caster.” Snapping like I done her wrong, Kacey bares her teeth and nestled in her arms, Inari follows suit, adding a little hiss to really punctuate its displeasure. “I am not some simple fool, unaware of even the basic of Spellcasting. The range can be raised with practice and familiarity, of which I will get plenty of once I am able to cast more freely without reaching my limits.”

“Wanna know how to raise the range without casting Detect Aberration?” Rather than wait for an answer or denial, I push on and say, “Familiarize yourself with Appraisal, Rangefinder, Compass, and Detect Heartbeat. Cantrips one and all, which means you can practice all you want without caring about your limits.”

“Nonsense.”

Ignoring her stubborn pride, I trample all over it and explain, “There’s no fifty-meter base limit to the Detect Aberration Spell. That Spell you just cast is capable of detecting Abby within five-hundred meters easy, but you can’t read anything past fifty because you don’t know how, the same way your eyes can only perceive light in the visible spectrum, or how your ears can’t hear anything above or below a certain threshold. Thing is, ain’t no physical organ holding you back, it’s your ability to parse through the information you’re receiving. When you gain familiarity with the Spell, it don’t show you more than it is right now, you simply learn to glean more from what it gives you.”

Holding up a hand to forestall her argument, I explain, “You know good and well that Divination don’t tell the future or reveal the past. What it does is show you the present, the information available not just to your own five senses, but to other senses which we don’t have. Like how some birds can sense changes in air pressure, or snakes can feel minute vibrations in the earth. The Spells are tools to allow us to perceive things we normally can’t, and a better caster simply perceives more. Think about it. If we’re casting the same Spell, why would it show us different amounts of information?”

Though not entirely convinced, I can see my words having an effect on Kacey, but true to form, she doesn’t take anything I say for granted. “And these Cantrips you listed,” she begins, “How is it they can improve my familiarity with a different Spell entirely? They are Divination Spells yes, but there the similarities end.”

“Because Cantrips aside, most Divination Spells weren’t designed meant for the human mind to process.” The faintest hints of comprehension begin to dawn on her face, and I can’t help but run my mouth a little more. “Most Spells we use are mathematically modelled after Spell Cores. There’s been lots of study over the centuries and tweaks made to make those Spells easier for humans to use, but most Divination Spells have been left untouched because we couldn’t get them to work with any modifications at all. The reason being is because Abby brains work different from ours, and they perceive the world differently, which is where the trouble starts. We gotta work at understanding the information presented to us by Divination Spells because it wasn’t meant for human minds to parse through. Anyone can learn the Spells, but a Diviner is someone who understands how to read them, and the easiest way to learn is to practice the various Divination Cantrips. Those were man-made and designed specifically to help you process the information from higher Order Spells without being overwhelmed. It’s like learning to read. You start off learning the letters using flash cards, then you put them together to form words. From there, you move on to picture books, and then kid’s books, and so on and so forth.”

Pulling out my own Aberrtin tuning fork, I allow myself a moment to lament how it ain’t nowhere near as pure as Kacey’s, a dull, matte-black object that doesn’t stand out one bit. Then I make ready to cast the same Spell, but not to show her up. She won’t see nothing anyways, and would have to take my word regarding the results, so wasteful though it might be, I’d feel a lot better casting the Spell myself for my own peace of mind. Intoning some nonsensical Latin underneath my breath, I tap the tuning fork against my ear and open up my mind to the flood of information that comes through.

The thing about Divination Spells is that you never know how your brain is going to perceive the sensory information until you use it for the first time. Some see lights or colours hanging in the air, while others can smell the presence of Abby like a bloodhound, and still more hear clicks at a rate that increases the closer they are. That’s the human mind at work, bridging the gaps in order to perceive a sense our body doesn’t have, which means that unless you can break free of those limits and move beyond the five senses, you’ll never make it as a first-rate Scout. When I cast the Detect Aberration Spell, the gentle hum of my tuning fork is translated into a whole different sense, one for which I have always struggled to describe. It’s like explaining the concept of colours to a blind person and expecting them to understand how different hues blend or clash together, or telling a deaf person how a song can move you to tears. The sense itself is simple enough, like a sudden onset of awareness as if the lights just turned on and I can see again, or my ears popped and I can hear. It’s not sight or sound that I’m sensing now, but something else, the very presence of Abby lingering in the air and sand. Like a rainbow in the oily film atop a puddle of water, or that prickle you get when you think someone’s looking at you, it’s a sensation that’s difficult to describe yet so familiar and instantly fathomable. It’s not intuition like my rustling jimmies, all vague and indistinct, but an awareness of new information that comes as readily as knowing whether something in hand is hot or cold, which way is due North, or where my nose is on my face, information all readily available without even needing to think about it, a sixth sense utilizing a wholly different system to perceive everything before me.

And right now, that sixth sense is showing me a horde of Abby slowly creeping towards us from the east, and even more still behind them. There are some circling around us to cut us off, while the bulk of the army sits not three-hundred meters away, behind the sand dune directly in front of us. Can’t see, hear, or even smell them, but they most certainly there, sneaking across that patch of supposedly open desert with some less than a hundred meters away. A distance an orc can traverse in eight seconds flat mind you, and I would bet my last dollar there’s bigger Abby hiding there too.

No wonder I didn’t want to move forward. Once again, my rustling jimmies have saved my hide, though it might be a touch too soon to call it just yet.

The emergency signal of the day is Winter Court, so I say it as calm as can be. Credit where it’s due, Kacey picks up on my meaning right quick, but she spoils it by looking around like a hawk. “Stop that,” I say, moving Ivory closer so we can cover one another as we run. “Count of three, we hoof it at top speed. Don’t go straight up the dune to our left. Too slow, so go up at a diagonal and round the peak. If we have to split, you head straight back to the convoy while I buy you time, got it?”

She nods, but also draws her bow, which is the clincher. “Three,” I say, giving her filly’s rump a slap as the illusion shatters to reveal what I already knew was there, an angry horde of gobbos, orcs, bugbears. Pounding through the shifting sands with a chorus of guttural bellows, they bare their fangs as they loose their crude spears and other objects in frenzied bloodlust, the projectiles going so wide I doubt they would have hit us if we’d been sitting stock still. We ain’t though, and fast as the big, mean greenies may be, our horses are much faster, breaking out into a run diagonally up the dune and free and clear of our would-be ambushers.

Or so I thought, right up until the cold hammer of Fear hits me in the gut and drives all the air from my lungs.

Ivory rears up and my mouth runs dry as I watch Kacey’s filly do the same, sending the fool girl flying out her saddle and into the sand. That’s all she wrote for Cute Bow Girl, as she’s about seven seconds from becoming Dead Bow Girl once them greenies grab her up. Should’ve held onto her saddle instead of her bow, then she’d be safe and sound as her horsey, who’s legging it off right quick. Ain’t my fault, but I ain’t free of blame, which is the only reason why I stop Ivory from following suit. Death has come for Kacey, but she won’t go alone. Nor will I, as the Rangers will soon follow. Marcus put his trust in me, sent me ahead as a Scout, and I failed him the same way I failed my daddy. These orcs and bugbears are gonna tear me and Kacey apart, then do the same to Tina, Marcus, Tim, and my prospects after they walk into their ambush. I can’t do anything right, so it’s better if I die first so I don’t have to see what comes next. There’s no sense running, no sense in even fighting, so I should just sit here and hope they end things right quick.

They won’t. Gobbos and their ilk like to play with their prey, make ‘em scream and squirm while dying real slow. Maybe I ought to take matters into my own hands, put Kacey and Ivory down before biting the Bolt myself…

The heat of shame and anger burns me from within as I let loose a scream of rage and defiance. An instant of cold, mind-numbing terror, that’s all it was, brief chill which cut through the oppressive desert heat and left me breathless and panting. Blink and you’d miss it, but it still cost me plenty. Ivory makes up for my weakness though, joining his voice to mine in a whinny of challenge. Ready and raring to go, he’s chomping at the bit to get a piece of whodunnit, but he keeps his head and shows his worth by heeding my commands. Turning about, he faces the horde without hesitation and springs over to Kacey while I lean over in the saddle, grab her by the arm, and swing her up behind me. She has the good sense not to fight it and leans into the assist, still panicked and reeling from the Spell and tumble, but focused on survival and nothing else.

Got the makings of a first-class Scout, she does, with grit and gumption to boot.

Heeling Ivory to get him running away from the horde, I intone the chant to a Spell through the Widen Metamagic bead on my left wrist while turning to get a good look behind us. The orcs and bugbears are creatures cut from the same cloth as gobbos, bigger, balder, and more muscular greenies formed in the general shape of men, with flat faces, bulbous noses, wide, fanged mouths, and yellow or red eyes. Most bear some form of asymmetrical disfiguration, whether it be one cheekbone higher than the other, a bulbous eye paired with a tiny squinty one, or just a general disproportion of facial features. The orcs ain’t all that tall, most measuring five-foot zero, but they got big strapping shoulders and barrel chests that add a whole lot of extra mass to their robust, brawny builds. As for the bugbears, they’re to orcs what Marcus is to me, all bulging muscles and sinewy skin on a six-foot minimum frame. Hooting and hollering up a storm, they wave their weapons and bang their crude armour of bone and leather as they rush headlong towards us, eating up the metres with their giant strides without so much as breaking a sweat. Three seconds at most, that’s all it took to shake off the Fear Spell and get Kacey onto Ivory’s back, and in that short time, our Abby assailants have closed the distance between us at a rapid pace. Alien through their features may be, the bloodlust and hatred in their eyes is all too familiar as they whoop and holler with glee, so eager to tear us apart they ain’t even slinging Bolts or Spears.

Well too bad for them, because it’ll take more than a static Illusion and a Fear Spell to bring down the Firstborn.

“Tela!” I shout as I fling my hand out towards the crowd, snaring them in a mass of stick white Web. Though lacking any fixed steel posts to hold the Web in place, the Widened Spell envelopes all our pursuers and binds them together, and I flash a grin as they stumble as one and start fighting amongst themselves to be free of the Spell. The bugbears are strong enough to tear free, which is why I didn’t use Entangle, but with the added weight of several orcs fighting and flailing about them, they caught good and well, giving Ivory plenty of time to bring us away from our pinned pursuers with all haste.

And as my horse makes his way up the dune, I lock eyes with the Abby who hit us with the Fear Spell, a creature that is no bugbear, orc, or even a mere goblin. Taller than an orc but shorter than a bugbear, this Abby is a long, lean creature, all rangy and angular like it been starved too many days. There’s no weakness about it though, not as it rears up to its full height and points from across the sands, its pinched face and long nose as inhuman as can be, yet the expression undeniably familiar as it watches us escape its clutches, one of rage, regret, and promise of suffering should we ever fall into its hands in the future.

Why hello there, Hobgoblin Illusionist. You’re looking mighty fine today, like a fat stack of cash just waiting to be claimed.

The air ripples as the Hobgoblin’s Spell slams home into me, but I grit my teeth and grin through the lancing pain wracking my mind and body as I pit my will against his. The alien rage and hatred is cold and impersonal, but there ain’t nothing dispassionate about mine, so I pay him back in coin and watch him falter and fail. “You feel that?” I shout once the agony subsides, and Kacey, shook as she is, leaves her arms wrapped around my waist and cheek pressed against my back until I nudge her with an elbow and ask again. Only then does so shake her head without looking up, so I say, “Got hit with a Mind Spike, so they’ll be tracking me now. Once we put a bit of distance between us, I’m gonna slip off and lead them away.” The Second Order Divination Spell not only assaults the target, but also marks their location to the caster in question, one I know good and well how to evade, but I ain’t one to run and hide. “I’ll keep them busy while you alert the Rangers,” I say, hoping she remembers it all. “Tell them to dig in and sit pretty while I lead these Abby right to them.”

“Are you crazy?” Raising her head to reveal her tear-stained eyes, Kacey clutches at my waist through my duster and plate carrier, and much as I’d like to enjoy it, there’s still a hint of panic welling up inside from the unwanted physical touch of someone who’s more or less a stranger, even one as fetching as her. “You mean to fight them on foot all alone?” She asks, clinging for all she’s worth while I lean forward and breathe deep, struggling with anxiety and hating myself for being the way I am. “They will catch you and tear you apart in less than a minute.”

“You maybe,” I correct, resisting the urge to wrench her hands off of me, but unable to stop myself from slapping her hands ever so lightly. “Quit squeezing so hard unless you fixin’ to see what I ate for breakfast. But no, I don’t mean to fight them.”

“Then why slip off?” Kacey asks, hands loosening just a bit while I cast a Console Cantrip to buoy Ivory’s spirits, and the big, white horse flicks his head while his hooves pound away at the sand.

Still feeling a mite constricted from Kacey’s arms wrapped around my waist, I give her fingers a gentle squeeze. That gets her recoiling right quick, and I get yet another glare as she finds new handholds on the rim of the saddle behind her. “Because,” I reply with a wink, detaching the saddlebag with all my extra ammo and shouldering it to buy time to come up with a proper answer. Can’t tell her the truth, that the Fear Spell got me all riled up and dug up feelings best left buried, so I give her my best and brightest grin as the words come to me. “I mean to hunt them.”

And with that, I roll off of Ivory without slowing down and tumble down into the sands, before coming up just in time to see Kacey fumbling with the reins as the horse carries her away. Turning back towards the Abby horde, I chant yet another Spell as I set off through the sands perpendicular to their position and prep to blow off some steam. Make money too, as that hobgoblin Illusionist is worth a pretty penny. Not just in materials, but a cash bounty on top, and them big juicy bugbears are all chock full of Aberrtin just waiting to harvest. Looks like this trip could prove profitable after all, assuming I can turn enough Abby into corpses all by my lonesome. Reaching up to tap the bull’s head medallion I wear on my hat, I let out a whoop to start the recording of my glorious hunt, or what might well be my final fight.

Every fight could be my last, but I’m a betting man, and I’ll bet on myself each and every time.