Firstborn of the Frontier

Growing up, Sarah Jay had always been a good girl, the model eldest child who could be trusted to follow the rules and look after the others.

Wasn’t easy, but she’d seen often enough how things went bad when kids didn’t follow the rules. Some would wander off and disappear, eaten by wildlife or carted off by Abby, while others would fall sick and die after playing out in the rain. Those who didn’t clear their plates were quick to complain of hunger, and the ones who stayed up late couldn’t keep up during the long marches. It was all cause and effect, a simple enough concept for even young Sarah Jay to grasp, but one her siblings never picked up as quick. They’d complain about this or that and Mama would gather them up in her arms to whisper sweet lies and soothe their soft little whimpers, a role Sarah Jay soon took on as well, though without the lies. She never resented Mary Ann or little Jimmy for needing to be coddled, because they never went through those hardest of times, or were so young they couldn’t remember the worst of it. Not just the Abby attacks, but long, hungry days spent trekking through the forests and over the hills, or the frenzied, panicked flights during the dead of night after things went wrong. Daddy tried his best to shelter her from the worst of it, but Sarah Jay saw and heard enough to know how bad things were, and she’d seen more than once how easily everything could fall apart, so she made sure she was always on her best behaviour so as not to add to their problems on top of it.

Because like it or not, Sarah Jay knew her birth was an accident, the result of a single night of passion and bad decisions that bound them together until the day Daddy died. Her parents never said as much, but she put the pieces together early on thanks to all the judgemental stares she got from strangers who crossed their paths, ones who often whispered amongst themselves wondering why anyone would be so foolish or irresponsible to have a child so soon after the Advent.

So she became the model child, the responsible one who looked after the others and never once complained. Mama was always grateful for the help and called Sarah Jay her little angel, but then Daddy died and Mama fell to pieces, leaving Sarah Jay to look after the family all by her lonesome. Times were tough then, but still better than after Mama took up with Oswald. He was a mean one he was, a bitter bully of a man who drank like a fish and did nothing to help out around home. Fact was, they got more done when he was drunk and passed out, since it meant they no longer had to tiptoe around his fragile ego and do everything his way. Which was often the wrong way too, but he was quick to lay hands on anyone who tried to say otherwise.

That’s why Sarah Jay started acting out. Better she take the lumps than Mary Ann or little Jimmy, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, if she got hit enough, Mama would finally see sense and leave Oswald for good. Didn’t work, as Mama would just fret and cry while treating Sarah Jay’s bruises and scrapes, wondering out loud what could have possibly gotten into her little angel’s head. “Why can’t you just do as he says?” Mama would ask, as if it was anyone’s fault besides Oswald’s that Sarah Jay got hit. “You used to be such a good girl, so why can’t you be good for him?”

Because he was a lecherous tyrant of a drunk, that’s why, one whose hands she’d been dodging since the minute she turned fourteen. Mama didn’t see it because she didn’t want to, thought it only natural for a father to want to kiss his daughter or sit her on his lap, but Oswald was no father of Sarah Jay’s.

Eventually, she left home to sign on for Basic, where under the stern direction of the Drill Sergeants, she fell back into the routine of the model child. Except she wasn’t a child no more. She was a model boot, a Ranger in training, and for the first time, she met others like her. Like Michael, the intense, deadpan soldier boy, or big Alfred, who looked after everyone around him until he got co-opted by Richard’s sleazy charms and hateful rhetoric. Was clear they shared the same upbringing as her, one filled with struggles and hardships that forged them into the strong, stoic personalities that they were, the first generation of the Frontier who were born too soon. Howie had it too, though he hid it better than most. You’d never know it from looking at his big smiles and easygoing mannerisms, but the Firstborn lived up to his title, working harder than anyone sane person would and taking on more responsibilities than most adults on the Frontier. It showed in how the Rangers treated him, because even though Captain Clay said he’d treat Howie like a boot, everyone acted like he was an extra teacher instead. By day, he’d ride out with Kacey and show her the ropes, and by night, he’d sit Errol and Sarah Jay down for some lessons and review on what they’d learned in his absence.

All while practicing his Spells and Cantrips to the point of obsession mind you, whether it be throwing up a Dancing Light for some soft illumination, using Appraisal on various Aetherarms to find minor imperfections, or doing his damnedest to befriend the horses and kiccaws into loving compliance.

With varying degrees of success, or mostly a lack thereof when compared to Tina’s accomplishments. The first of the round, short-beaked birds she’d befriended had been so smitten with her, he’d convinced his whole flock to tag along with the Ranger convoy, a good twenty-three of the rotund, stubby legged, mostly flightless birds, all with the same sandy brown and off-white colouring. They were bigger than a man’s head, but light as could be, which they used to great advantage by hopping all about. They’d taken to roosting on the roof of Howie’s wagon while they were underway, but a brave few preferred perching up front in the driver’s seat with Errol and Sarah Jay instead. Was real cute how they explored every nook and cranny, though she had to be careful not to leave anything loose, as them kiccaws were prone to running off with anything that caught their fancy. Especially the Spell Core in Sarah Jay’s breast pocket, which they seemed to think was food, but she kept it buttoned up and used it to lure the odd bird over to pet and coddle. Some tried to hitch a ride on Cowie, but he wouldn’t have none of it and scared them off right quick, snapping at them with a mouthful of fangs he’d conjured up lickety split before snorting out a lungful of wispy white smoke to scare Errol and Sarah Jay both. As for the first bird charmed by Tina, he sat firmly in her lap at all times as she rode alongside the wagon, happily chirping in tune and bouncing in rhythm to whatever song she was humming beneath her breath.

The Songbird and her songbird, a right fitting pair, and Tina wanted to bring the whole flock back to New Hope as pets and pest control. They were a cute bunch, and unable to resist, Sarah Jay leaned forward to stroke the closest kiccaw’s soft, brown head. It didn’t pay her much mind except to peer at her sideways and make sure that’s all she was after, its eyes all narrowed and suspicious, but enjoying the touch too much to move. They had such expressive little faces thanks to the off-white markings around their eyes, making them look like they was 40% face and 60% body, with only a teensy, tiny bit set aside for wings and clawed toesies poking out from the bottom of their rotund bellies. Made their little glowers or smiles seem that much bigger, though it was hard to explain how a beastie with no lips could do either.

Settling back into the bench, Sarah Jay snuggled up closer to Errol and felt a dreamy little smile stretch across her face as his hand idly rubbed her shoulder. Dropping out of Basic to be with him was an act of rebellion made in the heat of the moment, and she didn’t regret it one bit. Fact was, she wished she’d made big waves like this even earlier, because then things with Oswald might’ve been long since solved. She had half a mind to go home for a visit the first chance she got and have a nice long chat with the man, all while fondling the grip of the borrowed Squire hanging from her hip. That’d set him straight right quick, because like all bullies, Oswald feared anyone strong enough to truly cause him harm, and Sarah Jay was fixing to do just that. Would love to do worse, get payback for all the lumps they’d taken, with double interest for every time he dared to lay a hand on Mama, Mary Ann, or little Jimmy, but that wouldn’t help things none. For now though, she was content to sit alongside her man and play at being a boot again, even if it did rankle her nerves something fierce.

Was only a short time ago when she felt like Ranger life was tailor made for her. All the rules and regulations made the world make sense again, but she’d gotten a taste of true freedom with Howie, and now she wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. Staying disciplined was one thing, but the boots were saddled with so many arbitrary rules that it irked her something fierce, especially since most actually Rangers shirked those same rules. Her uniform had to be perfect, with shirts buttoned up to the collar, sleeves cuffed and straight, and laces pulled to the exact perfect length. God forbid she get a stain, because then she’d have to scrub it out with sand and clean it with Water Sphere, since boots couldn’t look anything less than spic and span even out on the open road. Pulling her long brown locks back into a ponytail wasn’t good enough either, it had to be braided or tucked away, and any jewellery outside of equipment or Spell Focus’s were a no go. Not to mention the constant inspections, making sure every boot had everything they would need on them at any given moment. One of the Sergeants had even tried to lambast her over ‘forgetting’ to pack her bedroll, until Sarah Jay snapped and told him to take it up with Howie.

That earned her a good fifty push-ups, which she did, but she also noticed the Drill Sergeants gave her a bit more leeway afterwards. Whether it was due to her outburst or something Howie said, she couldn’t say, only that it felt good to stand up for herself and see some result for it.

No, the Ranger life wasn’t for her, not anymore. For most her life, Sarah Jay had lived in a cage of her own devising, one of rules and expectations that she didn’t dare defy. Now, she was embarking on a life on the open road with the man she loved and set to earn enough to show Mama that she didn’t need Oswald anymore, so that she might finally kick the drunken lech to the curb and they could be a family again.

A dream come true, one she’d never even known she’d had, but unfortunately, dreams didn’t always work out as planned. For starters, she noticed that Errol was thriving here in Basic, especially without Richard there to stir things up. Discipline didn’t come naturally to her man, not like it did for her, or Michael, Alfred, and Howie. No, Errol needed the structure and social obligation to keep him on the straight and narrow, because even though he liked to do things his own way, he also didn’t like to stand out from the crowd. The support did him wonders too, especially when it came from someone like Captain Clay who dropped by every so often to see how they were holding up, a strong, black leader and pillar of the Rangers to show just how full of nonsense Richard really was.

Made Sarah Jay all too aware of Errol’s rough upbringing, because in spite of all the hard times she went through, at least she had the love of both her parents to help her through it, right up until she was twelve. As for Errol? He lost both his parents when he was half that age, and while Father Nicholas sounded like a stand-up fella, he wasn’t Errol’s daddy and couldn’t give him the love and attention he needed, not with more than a dozen other orphans to look after as well. Getting those kids clothed, fed, and educated was an amazing accomplishment in and of itself; if Father Nicholas managed to raise them all up as well-adjusted young men and women as well, then he might well be a bonafide Saint.

Course, Captain Clay wasn’t Errol’s daddy neither, but he made a fine father figure to look up to. Fact was, there were plenty to be found among the Rangers escorting them, good, dependable men and women of all colours and creeds. Most prominent among them was the lean and wiry Reggie Williams out of Atlanta, the company’s heavy-set heavy weapons specialist, and the company Artisan Conner Bell out of Chicago, whose big afro made it impossible to fit a hat overtop his already oversized head. They came by the first night to offer their sympathies to Errol regarding how he’d washed out and explain how the deck had been stacked against him, jawing about it until Captain Jung came by at which point they went quiet as a mouse. They came back the next night around chow time for a bit of quiet conversation, showing support without ever outright offering it in that manly sort of way, supposedly so they could lend a hand while letting Errol feel like he was still making it on his own. A complicated thing, men and their pride, but it was what it was, and there wasn’t nothing no one could do to change it.

As for Sarah Jay, she wasn’t a fan of how they acted like Errol had won some great big prize solely because of the colour of her skin, but it was a harmless bit of joking between men that she magnanimously overlooked. What she couldn’t get past was the fact that Reggie and Conner were the two Rangers who’d been out on patrol with Wayne when they first crossed paths a few days back. The three of them were snug as three peas in a pod they were, but Howie said the two of them were good people, and even Wayne wasn’t all that bad for someone bent as a corkscrew. Was real circumspect about it, but Howie claimed the Ranger had good reason to have need of material wealth, and he had yet to let his filching affect the quality of Ranger gear or supplies, so most looked the other way when Lieutenant Wayne fudged a few numbers here and there.

Regardless of her personal feelings, it was clear Errol enjoyed their company, so for this reason alone, Sarah Jay was willing to swallow her grievances and leave her man to enjoy his time with the Rangers for as long as he could. Meanwhile, she was working hard and taking notes for Howie to look over, so he’d have a better idea of how to train them. That meant putting her nose to the grindstone and taking advantage of the Ranger training while she still could, but after four days of strict micromanagement, mind-numbing drills, and sleepy training exercises, she was fast reaching her limits. Mostly because of the desert’s blazing heat and the fact that she’d earn herself a demerit if she dared unbutton her collar or roll up her sleeves. Not that she would, since exposing even more skin for the sun to bake red was silly, and she hated to think what life would be like without the sticky, white, viscous gel Howie scraped out of some plant to help soothe her sunburned neck. Wasn’t no helping it. The Ranger-issued army caps didn’t do nothing to block the sun, nor did the wagon have an awning that opened up over the driver’s seat. Silly really, to have the sides open up for shade and circulation but not install something to block rain and sun while driving. Then again, knowing Howie, he probably designed those awnings not for shade or comfort, but so he could sit inside the wagon and shoot out from behind cover. If that’s the case though, why was the driver’s seat so open and exposed? Would be safer if it was enclosed, with a steel roof and reinforced glass windows to peer out of. The only reason she could think of building it like this was so that it would look more like a wagon than a tank, but then you might as well put horns on a kiccaw and call it a bull.

A one-track mind, the Firstborn had, a failing Sarah Jay was fixing to mend, though judging from Kacey’s increasingly sour mood as the days wore on, it might be a job too big for one woman. Obvious to anyone with eyes that Howie was sweet on her, but instead of using his charms to win her over during their scouting sessions together, he put her through her paces and demonstrated how she was lacking at every turn. Wasn’t no one who liked being put down like that, even if he meant well by it, but Howie was the Firstborn in more than title and circumstance. He embodied responsibility in a way that made Sarah Jay wonder what it’d be like if he ever learned to cut loose.

“Look sharp.”

Tina’s whispered warning had Sarah Jay bolting upright, and beside her, Errol did the same, the two of them separating just as the unfortunately named Drill Sergent Begaye rode up alongside them with a surly scowl. The Navajo Conjuror wore a feather in his cap, one taken from an American Eagle in the old world and brought over to the Frontier, the only indication of his heritage aside from his ruddy tanned complexion. All but spit in the sand as he took them both in, like he was looking at last night’s dinner after it’s morning encore, but not because they were dropouts or because ‘fraternizing’ was against the rules. No, the grizzled, salt-and-peppered Drill Sergent’s foul mood was par for the course, and he had gave that same look to all the boots besides Tina, because in his eyes, she was the only one worth training. “Saddle up washouts,” Begaye barked, already out of patience despite having only just arrived, and Sarah Jay felt Errol tense up beside her. Foolish man couldn’t see that his reaction was exactly why the Drill Sergeant kept calling them that, and no amount of explaining would change Errol’s mind. “You’re joining Strike Team One for patrol duty in ten, and I’ll be damned if the two of you drag them down.”

The last was delivered loudly to everyone within earshot, as First Squad was just finding out about this too, so Sarah Jay took it all in stride and hopped off to see to the horses. Today was Winnie and Sunshine’s day to rest, but they’d hold up well enough for a short patrol. Howie treated his horses like they was made of glass, which to be fair, they might as well be when compared to Cowie. The big bull could happily haul his fully loaded wagon a hundred klicks a day for a week and be no worse off for it, but fifty a day with a rider wouldn’t hurt the horses long term. Winnie was plenty happy to see the saddles come out, prancing her pretty hooves as Sarah Jay cinched the saddle tight, and over on the other side, Sunshine let out a little excited whinny as Errol did the same.

Stopping to grab her 3-Line from the weapon’s locker, she only hesitated a moment before grabbing a Whumper and a pouch of 12-gauge shells for Errol. Howie had yet to sign off on his Blastgun privileges after the mess with them bandits, but it was a better weapon on horseback than the long-barrelled El-Minister, especially considering his aim. Or lack thereof if she was being honest, but just because she wasn’t willing to lie to her man didn’t mean she was keen to bash him upside the head with the truth, a distinction Howie could stand to learn. Errol accepted the weapon with a nod and a look, holstering it in his saddle as he sat pretty atop Sunshine with his gorgeous smile. Cut a mighty fine figure when he flashed his pearly whites, what with his warm eyes and strong chin, and his clean, unwrinkled off-white button up made him look even better. That’s the thing about men. They didn’t seem to grasp how much better they looked when dressed to the nines, though at this moment, Sarah Jay had to stifle a growl while admitting she’d much rather have Errol’s shirt all wrinkled and tossed aside on her bedroom floor.

Been close to three weeks since they’d spent some quality time together, and they’d only been together for a month before that, so the separation was starting to wear thin.

Intimacy would have to wait until they had a bedroom again, or at the very least a tent. For now, she’d have to make do with an eyeful as they linked up with Tina’s Strike Team One, which consisted of whiny Nate, angry Ike, horse-faced Sally, and mopey Antoni. The last was Polish American too, and Sarah Jay had enjoyed a bit of discourse with the man about their shared heritage, as it put her in mind of her daddy. She greeted Antoni with a nod, and got one in return, then gave the same to the others and got nothing. Nate was too busy failing miserably at getting his pack up to snuff, while Ike was intentionally ignoring her, Errol, and Tina on account of the beat-down he suffered at Howie’s hands.

As for Sally, she was just a roody-tooty bitch.

“Why are they even here?” Sally asked, directed at no one in particular as she played with her pretty auburn curls that were little more than ribbons on a hoggidilla. “Weren’t they like, washed out or something?”

A question she’d asked several times before, but again, Sarah Jay, Errol, and Tina didn’t bother giving her the time of day. The girl lived for drama, and with Sarah Jay out of the running, Sally was the top marksman of the class. Michael was a close second, and could take the prize if he cared to, but he spread himself too thin to come out on top in any one subject. Didn’t stop him from being top five in multiple fields, which made many Rangers take notice, while Sally was sour that the ‘broody and handsome’ Captain Tim Hayes didn’t even know her name.

Then again, Sarah Jay was pretty sure Captain Hayes didn’t know any of the boots names besides Tina’s, and only because he was a close friend of the family’s, but she wasn’t about to tell Sally as much.

So it came as some surprise when Drill Sergeant Begaye arrived with Captain Hayes at his side, the latter looking glum and sleepy as can be. Oh sure, he was handsome enough, with his youthful good looks, tousled chestnut curls, and dour, dismal expression, but there was something about him that spooked Sarah Jay fierce, a focused intensity to his gaze that put her in mind of a lazy predator. He could kill her without blinking an eye, wouldn’t hesitate if it came to it, and the only reason she still drew breath was his distinct lack of interest in seeing her dead. “Tina,” he greeted, giving the girl a nod as he sat with arms crossed and rifle cradled atop them. “Boots.” Strangely enough, he offered Errol and Sarah Jay a nod as well, though he had nothing for the actual boots, which made Sally’s horse face turn a darker shade of red. “Patrol time. Show me what you know, and I’ll tell you what you missed.”

Wasn’t their first time going on patrol, so Sarah Jay looked to Tina and silently indicated that they’d follow her lead. “Alright then,” Tina began, flashing a smile that wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, and the kiccaw in her lap chirped along with her cheery declaration. “Sally and Nate on the left, Antoni and Ike on the right. Errol, Sarah Jay and me will take centre. Keep fire lanes open and no more than fifty paces apart. Hop to it.”

“Rangers don’t hop, little lady,” Captain Hayes interjected, without even so much as a ghost of a smile, but Tina treated it like a joke and just smiled.

“Well, get it done, then,” she said, with a bit more gravel in her voice, and since Captain Hayes didn’t say nothing, the others rode off to take the flanks. Drill Sergeant Begaye followed close behind Sally and Nate, and a third Ranger that Sarah Jay didn’t know joined Ike and Antoni. A touch too much babying for Sarah Jay’s liking, and showed how much faith the Rangers had in Howie, but she could understand why the difference in treatment. Just yesterday, a patrol of boots rode straight into a patch of briarbane because they were too lazy to ride around. What they didn’t know was that briarbane nettles were coated in a highly toxic wax that stung something fierce when it got into the bloodstream. Ended up with the boots and their horses all screaming bloody murder until the medicos got them all coated in balm and wrapped in gauze like how them Egyptians clothed their dead. Mummies, they were called, though it didn’t explain why Brit’s called their mothers the same way, which didn’t make a lick of sense.

Seeing them miserable and wrapped boots went to show how comprehensive Howie’s lessons really were. Sure, he rambled on for a long time making it difficult to take it all in, but she was almost a hundred-percent sure he’d mentioned briarbane sometime in the last two weeks. Sorta red-brown brushes that grew taller than a man’s height with purple and white flowers that had sliver-thin petals, that’s what they looked like, something she knew well before the Drill Sergeants made certain all the boots knew what to look out for after the fact.

A flash of movement in the distance caught Sarah Jay’s eye, and she stopped for a better look. Errol, silly man that he was, turned to look at her in confusion, but Tina started scanning the horizon right quick. “There,” she said, pointing out over a dune in front of them. “Looks like someone’s riding in fast.”

“Should’ve seen it sooner,” Captain Hayes drawled, his tone bored but gaze vigilant. “Now what?”

“Send word back and wait for contact?”

Tina’s tone was filled with doubt, but Captain Hayes didn’t say nothing, until Sarah Jay suggested, “Maybe we ought to tell the squad? Don’t think they can see what we can.”

“Right.” As Tina got right on it, Captain Hayes gave Sarah Jay a little nod, which had her sitting up straighter than before, or as straight as she could atop of a horse. Didn’t know how Howie and Errol did it, looking all cozy and natural in the saddle, especially with their dangly bits getting in the way.

She didn’t let the thought distract her none though, and instead took up a position slightly to the left while readying to draw her rifle, but soon enough, she saw that it wasn’t needed. “It’s Kacey,” she said, relaxing a touch, but before she could ride up to meet with her, Tina’s arm shot out to tell her to hold.

“Primal,” Tina called, her voice booming like Howie’s had when he warned off those bandits.

“Fury,” came Kacey’s distant, muffled reply, her sharp and concise enunciation still audible even over Ivory’s hoofbeats, which was when Sarah Jay’s brain started itching something fierce. Then, the Nipponese Archer shouted something else. “Winter!”

The emergency word of the day.

“Confirm.” Exploding into motion once they heard Kacey shout ‘Court’, Captain Hayes surged forward atop his horse and left them in a spray of sand. To her credit, Tina followed close behind, while Errol and Sarah Jay sat and waited. Signalling the others to stand firm, she watched with trepidation as Tim and Tina escorted Kacey back atop Howie’s newest horse, the lovely Ivory who looked all but spent. “You and you,” Captain Hayes barked, pointing at Sally and Nate with uncharacteristic animation. “Get word back to the Rangers. Tell them we got incoming Abby with the Firstborn running interference.” Snarling when he saw Sally and Nate frozen in shock, he shouted, “Move!”

“There were so many of them,” Kacey said, babbling as she shook in the saddle and stared down at nothing. “Orcs and bugbears appearing out of nowhere, close enough to reach out and grab us.”

“Where’s Howie?” Tina demanded, and when Kacey didn’t answer, she drew closer and gave her horse, old Tux, a pat on the neck when he tried to give Ivory a nibble. “Answer me. Where’s Howie? Why you riding back on his horse without him?”

“He jumped off,” Kacey replied, trembling as she tried to bury her face in her hands. “Said he was a fool for doing it, but he did it all the same.” Drawing back with a frown, Tina hands moved with the practiced cadence of a Spell casting, but before she could mutter a single syllable of the chant, Kacey drew back and screeched, “No! Keep your tainted mind magic away from me, Aberrant filth!”

A torrent of Nipponese followed next, but there was no mistaking Kacey’s tone. Whatever choice words she had for Tina, they weren’t something you’d repeat in pleasant company, and Sarah Jay was shocked to see it. She’d heard that the Nipponese weren’t the biggest fans of Innates as a whole, but Kacey’s reaction was all too similar to Richard’s when he found out about Errol and Sarah Jay. An angry, hateful deluge of what could only be abuse spewed out of Kacey’s mouth, and she made a motion like she was brushing her shoulder off with sandpaper.

To her credit, Tina didn’t get angry or frustrated, though Sarah Jay got plenty heated for her, and no doubt Howie would do the same once he heard about this. Tina though, all she did was gesture at Errol and ask, “What about him? You mind if he casts a Spell on you? Just Heroism to help settle your nerves, okay? I can feel the Fear Spell still lingering on you, so even though it’s over, you ain’t in your right mind.”

Seeing how she Kacey didn’t recoil from his approach, Errol did as he was asked and cast Heroism on her, and the change was startling to behold. Kacey went from manic tears to stoic calm in little more than a blink of the eye, and she even had the good sense to look ashamed of her behaviour as she panted and heaved. “So it was a Fear Spell,” she said, as if that excused her behaviour. “I did not think it would be so… unnerving.” Looked right sorry enough, but didn’t have enough good sense to apologize, and she wiped her tears away as she explained what befell them. “We could have both ridden away to safety,” she concluded, her brow furrowed in confusion, if not outright concern. “Instead, because of his greed and overconfidence, he is likely dead or wishes he were.”

Now that got Tina all heated and out of sorts, her big blue eyes blazing with vengeful fury, but before she could say anything, Captain Hayes let out a little chuckle. “Nah,” he said, drawing the single syllable out for several seconds. “Not Howie. How many would you say there were? Rough estimate.”

“Maybe five bugbears?” Kacey replied, after taking long seconds to think about it. “With dozens of orcs alongside them, and a leader cunning enough to lay in wait with magic to hide them.”

Captain Hayes was already shaking his head. “If that’s all there was, Howie could’ve cleaned them up all by his lonesome, even riding double with you. If he sent you back to warn us, there are probably a whole lot more.”

By now, the bulk of the Rangers were closing in, moving double-time with Captain Clay and Captain Jung at the forefront. “Report,” Captain Clay demanded, and Captain Hayes explained it all right quick. “What’d Howie say?” Turning to Kacey, the towering giant of a Ranger asked, “Is he running circles or leading them towards us?”

“Leading them,” Kacey replied, and after a moment of hesitation, she added, “His exact words were to tell you to… ‘dig in and sit pretty’ and he would lead them to us.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Captain Clay replied, before barking out orders to his Rangers. Captain Jung did the same to her Drill Sergeants, who in turn started barking orders at the boots.

“But Howie’s on foot,” Tina whispered, almost too quiet to be heard, except Captain Hayes had sharp ears to match his eyes.

“You ever known him to bite off more than he can chew?” Patting Tina on the shoulder, Captain Hayes flashed his stilted, underused grin that made him look handsome and terrifying both. “He’ll be fine,” he said, his tone pitched to sound comforting but the result was more dismissive than anything else. “You’ll see soon enough.” All too eager to be done with this atypical bout of empathy, Captain Hayes pointed at Sarah Jay and said, “You’re with me. You,” he added, pointing at Errol, “Stay with Tina. Come on.”

And off he went, moving south up a slope and collecting boots along the way, namely Michael, Alfred, Sally, and a few others who were better than your average shooter, except Captain Hayes didn’t seem to know any of their names and simply pointed each of them out, shouted, and gestured them over. “We’re sitting overwatch,” he explained, once everyone was there. “Target priority goes Spellcasters, commanders, then largest to smallest. Once we stop, dismount, hobble your horses, and try not to move too much before the shooting starts.”

That’s all he had to say before tuning them out to check on his weapons, and true to his word, once they crested the dune and dismounted, he laid down and didn’t move a muscle as he stared east out into the sea of sandy dunes. As for Sarah Jay, she tried to do the same, but the nervous jitters had her all but dancing as she shuffled her feet while the minutes ticked by. Fiddling with the ammo clips on her belt, she spent the time sighting landmarks and guessing the approximate range so she wouldn’t have to think as much in the heat of battle. While she tried to find something more or less a kilometre away to gauge her range, she spotted movement even further out over the horizon, a cloud of sand slowly approaching from the northeast. “Contact,” she said, pointing it out, and the boots beside her all swiveled their heads as one to peer out at it. “I think that’s Howie.”

“It is.” Relaxed as could be, Captain Hayes rested his chin on one hand while the other held his rifle perched atop a small sandbag and loosely at the ready, looking all calm and casual save for the lack of movement. “Relax. It’ll be a few minutes more before he gets here.”

A few minutes? That had to be at least five klicks away, and even if Howie could keep up a world record pace of ten klicks an hour, that was still thirty minutes of running to be had. Assuming them orcs and bugbears didn’t catch him first, which they most certainly could, as peak human speed and endurance was close to standard Abby capability. Before she could argue the facts and insist they ride out to save him, Sarah Jay noticed that the cloud of dust getting closer at a breakneck pace. Maybe Howie found Kacey’s horse and was riding it back? Raising her 3-Line to her shoulder, she peered through the scope and gasped at what she saw, barely able to believe her eyes despite everything they were telling her.

“Scopes are good,” Captain Hayes began, launching into a lesson at what seemed like the worst time possible. “I learned to shoot with them too, because they help you focus on your target at the expense of everything else. Notches help too, and you don’t need good awareness if you got a spotter to watch your back, so you can put everything you have into popping heads. The Eagle Eye Spell don’t let you do that. You can see farther, sure, but your peripherals still work, so you see any and all movement in front of you, most of which is just a distraction. Takes a lot of training to close all that out and learn to shoot at range with an iron sight, but I’d say it’s worth it out here. Clocked signs of what the little lady is seeing as soon as we got up here, but it’ll be a little longer yet before the rest of you see it too.”

Because none of the others had a rifle with a scope, or the Eagle Eye Spell to help them see. “What exactly are we going to be seeing?” Michael asked, directing his question more at Sarah Jay than Captain Hayes, as the Strelkies didn’t come with no scope. Rather than explain, she offered him the rifle and let him see for himself, which surprisingly brought a smile to his usually intense gaze. “That crazy son of a gun,” Michael said, shaking his head before checking to see if Sarah Jay was okay with him passing the rifle on to someone else. She was, so she drew up to her full height and grinned as she took in the others reactions to seeing Howie zipping down the sand dunes atop his Floating Disc, like a surfboard getting pulled across the surface of Last Chance Lake while a dark-green wave of mean, muscled Abby followed in his wake.

Hundreds of them to be sure, but Howie kept well ahead of them so far, and she trusted he’d stay well ahead of them until it was time to fight.

When the rifle got back to Sarah Jay, she didn’t need to peer through the scope to see Howie crest the second closest dune, one which was conveniently shorter than the final sand dune standing between the horde of Abby and the readied Rangers and boots sitting on their own dune across from it. They were all hunkered behind sandbags, wagons, and other fortified positions hastily thrown together in the last quarter hour or so. From her vantage point, she grinned and shook her head as Howie slid down the second to last dune and halfway up the final one, letting his momentum almost play out before hopping off and legging it the last little bit. At speeds faster than any person ought to run no less, crossing a good hundred and fifty metres uphill in seven seconds flat and giving her good cause to reconsider her stance on Longstrider. There had to be more at work there, but she had no more time to think, because when Howie reached the top, he did something almost unthinkable that made her heart freeze in her chest.

He stopped, turned around, and took a moment to casually take off his hat and wipe the sweat from his brow. “C’mon, you slowpokes,” he shouted as he waited for his pursuers to catch up, and not only could Sarah Jay hear the smile in his tone, she could imagine the giant grin stretched across his face as he popped off a few shots with his unsilenced Szass and Tam revolver. The tiny gun let loose with a thundering boom with each shot, ones that echoed across the desert and was far more intimidating than the metallic bark of her slender .45. “You want some of this? Then come get some.”

The Bolts were flying back at him, but Howie ran three steps, leaped off the peak of the dune, and landed on his Floating Disc some ten metres down with a cheery whoop. From there, gravity did the rest as he rocketed down the dune, spraying sand from both sides and leaving a furrow behind him as he plummeted down at a breakneck pace, hooting, hollering, and waving his hat overhead all the while. So eager to sink their teeth into his flesh, the Abby horde was over the dune and a quarter way down before they noticed the Ranger’s waiting on the next dune over about two-hundred meters away, and when they hesitated for all of a moment, Captain Clay’s voice boomed out for all to hear. “Weapon’s free. Fire at will.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when a deafening orchestra of thunderous shots threatened to overwhelm Sarah Jay even through her Hearing Protection, and her heart went out to poor Errol who still had yet to figure out the Cantrip. Then her spirits rose as the first volley of Bolts slammed home into the orcish horde, dropping dozens of the vanguard where they stood. Bellowing in unison, the enraged Abby charged headlong into the fray as the Rangers unleashed hell, and Sarah Jay joined in alongside Captain Hayes as he rained death down from above with his lovely semi-auto M4 Gromph, going Tak-Tak-Tak as it spit Bolts as fast as the dark-eyed Captain could pull the trigger.

Was a wonder to behold as the Rangers unleashed a barrage of Spells, and all hell broke loose as they laid waste to Abby. The battle had only just started and she could see victory already well within their grasp, but these orcs and bugbears were fixing to fight to the last. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, and as Sarah Jay picked her shots and popped their heads, she realized all of this was only made possible by Howie’s quick thinking, faster feet, and brilliant taunting. In a standup fight, the Abby horde wouldn’t have come at them head on in one big clump, or might even have come at them in an ambush, and then what? Boots would have died, that much was sure, and Rangers too even, but Howie sussed the danger out and rendered it as close to harmless as could be.

Yea, the Rangers were impressive and all, but the Firstborn, now he was something else, and Sarah Jay was happy as a hog in mud to be a part of his crew.