Firstborn of the Frontier

For years, harpies featured front and centre in Sarah Jay’s nightmares, but orcs were looking ripe to replace them after today.

Was strange really. Most folks treated gobbos as your standard Abby fare, while Ferals were some evolved, genetically engineered killer beasts and the Soulless these unkillable spooks wielding powerful magics. Made gobbos seem almost inconsequential by comparison, and it showed in their appearance, as they were these ugly, green children, and orcs only a little better. A bunch of muscular bantam baldies standing about five foot nothing, though they were thick in the shoulders, at least two feet wide across if not more. Short and squat, that was an orc in a nutshell, and they only got sillier from there. Ugly didn’t begin to cover it, with these big, broad faces to go with their oversized heads, and noses so flat their nostrils looked like the coin slots for them gumball machines outside Miss Dawson’s confectionery and ice cream parlour. Add in their too-wide mouths, too-flat lips, and all manner of protruding teeth and tusks, and what you ended up with was a whole mess of ugly and unimpressive.

Yet somehow, they were scarier than any other Abby around. Giant bugs, flying harpies, and undying spirits seemed much more terrifying in theory, yet orcs struck a chord in a way she never thought possible. They didn’t look human, but they looked human enough to trick her brain into seeing them as something more than just Abby. Was a problem unique to orcs, or at least she felt that way. Lot of folks thought gobbos looked like children, but their proportions were all wrong in Sarah Jay’s eyes. Too lean and muscular, with heads too long and faces too mature to fool her even for a second. Bugbears had issues in the other direction, because even though they were about as tall as she was, their proportions were too overblown because of how damn thick they were grown. It made sense for them to have those overhanging shoulders and tree trunk arms to go along with them thick, chunky waists and pillar-sized thighs, all rippled and muscled in ways a person could never match. Orcs though? They were too extreme to pass for human, but not so extreme that the comparison couldn’t be made, enough to fool Sarah Jay into reading more from their guttural grunts and savage expressions than there was to glean.

They wasn’t talking, not the way humans did. Abby didn’t have no language, not exactly at least. According to Mama, Abby were known to convey information using tone, pitch, and volume of their vocalizations, much like a man might use different grunts to show what he was thinking, but they had their own way of actually talking via Aetheric signals. Their vocalizations were just a side effect of their need to breathe, nothing more than noises made when they were feeling in a particular way, like how someone might yawn when tired or groan when injured. A harpy shrieked when it sighted prey because it was eager to eat, whereas goblins chittered and bugbears bellowed. None of those noises were remotely even close to what Sarah Jay would call human, even though they were all made by vaguely human-like faces, so she never paid none of it no mind before.

Orcs though? Orcs made sounds that were just human enough to keep her wondering what they was saying. ‘Kar-Rhul’ was a ‘phrase’ she heard more than once after the battle got underway, bellowed by the squat greenies as they charged across the sands, and it sounded so close to ‘cruel’ that it made her blink twice. ‘Gah-Roh’ was another one, usually made as they ran, jumped or swung their weapons like they was putting a bit of extra oomph into the action. Kept thinking they was screaming ‘garrote’, like they was fixing to slit her throat from ear to ear and leave her to bleed out. There were more of them she picked up along the way, sounds and noises that had no real meaning to them, but ones so close to human language that she kept substituting words in for them. Murder-kill, crump-dem-all, slagga-goons, none of it really made sense, and in the grand scheme of things shouldn’t have changed anything at all, and yet somehow was enough to make them orcs seem larger than life, like a threat beyond their meagre means.

Because she wasn’t just gunning down mindless, murderous Abby no more. These were orcs, and while they wasn’t human, they was just human enough to scare her something fierce, because humans were the most dangerous threat around. Abby just wanted to kill you, but people wanted to make it hurt, and these orcs represented the worst of both worlds.

Didn’t help that she was shooting them up close and personal using Errol’s Whumper and getting a good, close look at their mean mugs and fierce features. Some were even thicker and uglier than the others, armoured variants with hard plates nestled underneath their dark green skin that made them look even more warped and grotesque than ever. Subcutaneous chitin plating is what it was called, which was smart considering how Bolts expended the vast majority of their force on the first thing they hit, but Proggies weren’t smart enough to think things through. They ‘grew’ Abby armour that way on account of how green Abby skin had to stay exposed to the sunlight so they could photosynthesize, and the practical applications were simply a bonus.

Least that’s what Mama said, and she was a right educated lady she was. Belonged in an old world school teaching university classes or something, not serving food and drinks in a third-rate bar here on the Frontier.

Which was why Sarah Jay had to survive and make it home alive, to help her mama, sister, and brother live better lives than the ones they were barrelling towards. Was difficult considering how tough Abby were to start with, and how the armoured ones mixed in with the unarmored variants to catch her by surprise. From the neck up, they looked more or less the same, but their shoulders, chests, arms, and everything else gave them away. Their home-grown bio-armour smoothed out the ridges of their knotted muscles and gave them a flatter, sleeker sorta look, right up until you got to the end of the plate and them Abby muscles bulged out like weeds growing out from sidewalk cracks. Aesthetics aside, the armour made them right hard to kill it did, even with her 3-Line packing 44-40 ammunition to deliver an Intensified and Maximized First Order Bolt each time she pulled the trigger. Blew a nice wide hole in their flesh all the same, but wasn’t much more than a surface wound to reveal the dull, matte black Aberrtin-infused bone plates underneath. Far as she could tell, they were about as hard as iron and least half an inch thick, meaning it was headshots or bust with the 3-Line and the 22-10 Squire she kept on her hip.

Which was why Sarah Jay was using the Whumper Errol left behind in the wagon’s weapon locker, a right compact beast of an Aetheram with a real big kick. One that went both ways, as even with the stock braced good and well and one hand firm around the foregrip, every pull of the trigger made the barrel jump and her shoulder ache. Left her good and sore after only a few shots, but sure was satisfying to shoot, spitting out clouds of white smoke and hails of invisible kinetic shards with a deep rumbly ‘Whump’. Its comparably shorter range of about forty metres didn’t matter much once Abby got up close and personal, and the wide spray of armour Penetrating projectiles shredded their home-grown bio-bone plates like wet paper. Passed right through their spongey, greyish flesh to pulp whatever was behind them too, leaving trails of dead Abby in their wake.

There were always more Abby to fill in them gaps though, goblins, orcs, and bugbears too. She tried to focus on the big boys as best she could, because once they got in good and close, their massive clawed hands took chunks out of the metre-thick stone walls like they was made of rotten wood. A right fearsome existence, the hulking bugbear, all six feet tall so wide you couldn’t squeeze more than a handful into Howie’s wagon without chopping them up first. Could hardly even fathom how Abby could get any bigger or stronger, but sure as shooting, they did. Word was a seven-foot ogre was considered a runt, and while trolls were supposedly leaner and rangier in comparison, they was still all thick with regenerating flesh that could regrow entire lost limbs if given a day or two of food and rest. Took two shots of her Whumper to bring down a bugbear on average, and she shuddered to think how many shots it’s take to bring down an ogre, especially if they was supposed to be thicker than thick.

Granted, she had yet to see the Whumper do work with the compressor attached, which would turn the spray of projectiles into a single, solid shot, but she was having way too much fun Blasting waves of smaller Abby away without even having to aim. A good thing Howie bought two of the pricey Blastguns before heading out, and all those other Penetrating sidearms too, now that she thought about it, meaning he knew good and well what they were walking into, but didn’t bother sharing that little tidbit with the rest of them.

No, that wasn’t fair. He straight up told them Abby would be attack the town before they left, and hadn’t even wanted to bring them along to begin with. Captain Clay convinced him to, and while Sarah Jay had been grateful for the assist, in the here and now with her stuck in a bunker shooting a seemingly endless horde of Abby as quickly as she could reload? She wasn’t so grateful anymore.

Her Whumper clicked empty, so she passed it back to Noora without looking and the tenacious Aegyptian beauty got to reloading the weapon while Sarah Jay stood ready with her Szass and Tam 45. They’d gotten into this rhythm soon after the battle started, and gone about it this way for the last twenty minutes at least, if not thirty. A quick study Noora was, sharp as a tack and eager to boot, which showed in her drive and dedication these last few days. Only had three Cantrips to her name before walking into camp, as shaky as a day-old foal after that minor dust-up in the saloon, namely Makeup, Contraception, and Water Sphere. Broke Sarah Jay’s heart to guess at why Noora only knew them first two before this, but the tough little filly didn’t so much as bat an eye, undaunted by her difficult past and ready to move past it. Two nights of lessons with Howie and Sarah Jay, that’s all it took for Noora to learn Freeze, an Evocation Cantrip used to cool water and eventually turn it into ice if left long enough, and she was right eager to learn more.

Put Errol to shame it did, but not because he was dumb. He had the smarts to learn a Cantrip if he’d just buckle down and do it, but he was too easily discouraged by the lack of instant success. Couldn’t try more than once without getting frustrated, and oftentimes he’d just sit there and stew instead of doing any real studying. In contrast, Noora was already working on Prestidigitation, supposedly because she fancied the versatile Cantrip quite a bit, though Sarah Jay suspected Noora chose it because it wasn’t on the list of Cantrips Howie had already shared with all of Pleasant Dunes. Girl was ambitious and determined to make herself useful in any which way, whether it be by washing clothes and dishes or cooling wet cloths for Sarah Jay to press against her bruised shin and hopefully reduce to swelling.

Noora had a bad life behind her, that much was clear. Wasn’t doing this to be nice, but valued, because despite what they told her, she was worried she’d be left behind if she didn’t prove her worth. Most the boys couldn’t see past her fetching features and suggestive smiles, ones she gave out on reflex so as not to give offense. Wasn’t because she liked the attention. No, she was afraid of it, but she’d learned to hide her fear for good reason, the same reason why Mama would happily smile and simper for Oswald when he lashed out in anger, because he’d only beat her harder if she cried.

Blinking back into reality as Noora patted her shoulder and passed the Whumper back, Sarah Jay shook off her rambling thoughts and holstered her sidearm before accepting the loaded Blastgun. Wincing as she raised it into ready position, she paused to mutter, “Suffero. Suffero. Suffero.” Only really had to say it once before the Cantrip activated and washed over her in a wave of cool energy, but the familiar cadence of the repeated phrase put her in mind of her daddy. He’d often sit down and massage his temples while saying it just like she did after a long day’s work, and then he’d look up and smile all bright and happy. Endure, only in Latin, hence the name ‘Power Word: Endure’, which sent a cascade of soothing sensations to wash over her mind and body. Didn’t do nothing to clear her head or perk her up none, just gave her a little extra grit to help her grin and bear it, and she needed every little boost she could get. ‘Whump. Whump. Whump,’ went her Blastgun, and she winced every time it did, suspecting that come tomorrow she’d have a bruise on her shoulder to match the one on her knee.

Well, maybe not so bad, because while she could walk just fine, she couldn’t do it for long without having to stop, and running was out of the question. The bruise was just below her knee and hurt something fierce every time she stood, but it’d gone from an ugly red to a darkish yellow though, so another day or two and she’d be back to full strength, so long as the medics had the energy to spare for a First Order Minor Regenerate after this battle here today. Wasn’t likely, and she’d refuse if offered because there were others who’d need the Spell more, but one could hope all the same.

The Whumper clicked, but didn’t ‘whump’, and it took Sarah Jay a moment to figure out why, a long moment she spent staring down at the gun and pulling the trigger in vain. She was out of ammo again, and still the Abby horde came on, so she passed it back and picked her shots nice and slow with the Szass and Tam 45. The sturdy, L-Shaped Aetherarm was a real beauty of a weapon with its sleek lines and clean angles, a sidearm that looked so out of place next to the Squire. Seemed like a weapon out of a different era almost, even though the blueprints were first designed by the same gunmaker responsible for Howie’s lever-action carbine and the Marshal’s famous single-action six-shooter, the Arbiter. All the way back in the 1890’s, if you can believe it, only to move on to design the semi-automatic, magazine fed, 1911 which saw action in two world wars after his death. The Szass and Tam Model 45 was based on the 1911, with all the same mechanical features pretty much, with the only differences being in that of material and Metamagics to support the extra Penetrating power. A gentle squeeze of the trigger sent a Bolt hurtling towards her target, while the gasses produced by the projectile drove the weapon’s slide straight back, ejecting the spent brass and making room for a fresh bullet from the magazine to pop into the chamber. A compressed spring brought the slide back forward and into place, during which the Core had enough time to exhaust and Prime thanks to the Prime, Efficiency, and Quicken Metamagics Etched into the gun’s blue-steel frame.

The Model 45 had a real mean bark to match its bite, and snappy bang followed by the click of well-oiled metal parts sliding back into place. The muzzle flash left her seeing spots, but she stared past them at her targets as she picked off the biggest and baddest Abby of the bunch. Three orcs followed by a bugbear, each one got two in the chest before she moved on, because any more was simply overkill. Took them a moment to realize it after the fact, but most Abby died in the first hit, while the second was to make sure, and Sarah Jay relished the thrill that came from squeezing that trigger again and again and again.

Even the reloads were sweet as can be. A press of the button saw the magazine slide out the bottom of the grip, which she caught on the way in to slam a fresh magazine home which gave her another eight shots to work with. Trading the empty magazine for the Blastgun once more, Sarah Jay held fire and took a breather as the gatling erupted to life beside her to spit Bolts out into the crowd. Non-Penetrating Bolts at that, using 22 calibre ammunition, meaning it took a good five to ten shots to put an Armoured orc down and even more for a bugbear. The big, multi-barreled weapon made up for its lack of punch by sheer volume of fire, and that was volume in both quantity and commotion. Rattled off with a deafening ‘rat-tat-tat’ it did, a din that was off-beat and dissatisfying for reasons besides rhythm. Sounded like the Cores weren’t cycling properly as the gunner mindlessly worked the crank, feeding a belt of bullets into the weapon without a worry in the world despite the fact that he was likely pumping oodles of Aether into a cracked Core that couldn’t loose Bolts to discharge the energy building up inside it.

Meant it was only a matter of time before that cracked Core exploded according to Howie, which was why Sarah Jay had stationed herself as far away from the gun as possible within the confines of the enclosed embrasure. Wasn’t far at all, considering the gatling gun was bolted dead centre in the middle of the room, but whether by dumb luck or ingenious design, the room had two pillars on either side of the gatling that were just big enough to hunker down beside. Kept her shielded from the gatling without blocking her view of the front and the massed hordes of Abby pushing ever onwards in hopes of tearing Pleasant Dunes to the ground.

Sparing a moment to glance behind her, Sarah Jay saw Noora kneeling in place with her head down and a magazine braced upright. Fed the fat .45 shells into the spring-loaded magazine one by one, not quite as quick as an old pro would, but fast enough to show she’d had plenty of practice these last few days. Went ahead and tucked the magazine into Sarah Jay’s belt pouch when she was done too, and though it was clear Noora was scared out of her gourd, she didn’t let her fear slow her down none. Amazing considering the girl had never seen a live Abby before today, and now she was kneeling in an embrasure with only a meter or two of stone to protect her while hard at work keeping Sarah Jay’s ammo supplies topped up. Had two bags of shells and cartridges slung over her shoulders, and a third bag sitting on the floor for whatever spent brass she picked up. All that and nothing but an army knife to protect herself with should Abby break through. Brave didn’t even begin to cover it, and Sarah Jay couldn’t help but admire Noora for her pluck and gumption.

Yea, she was a survivor for sure. Maybe not one who’d been born to thrive like Howie, but she’d learned to endure the Frontier in her own unique way.

The ‘rat-tat-tat’ of the gatling came to an abrupt end and the absence was almost deafening. Took Sarah Jay’s ears a good split-second to adjust before she heard the clank-clank-clank of the crank turning the now silent barrels, followed by a loud and emphatic, “Fuck!” The townie gunner wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, turning to her in a panic as if expecting her to somehow magically fix the complex weapon, one whose barrels were glowing red-hot from the heat yet emitting a purple light out of both ends, a light that was quickly growing in intensity.

“Take cover,” Sarah Jay shouted, before turning to wrap her arms around Noora and press the girl up against the stone pillar. Only then did she activate her Aegis with an utterance of, “Virgo intacta!” The Spell Structure lit up in her minds eye and unfolded out into the world, sheathing Sarah Jay in an envelope of protective energies as soon as she was done speaking. A faint and almost imperceptible glow arose from her skin, a dim suggestion of deep azure that was both delicate and uncompromising as it held her fixed in place, the immutable and inflexible barrier standing ready to shunt any and all forces back into the Immaterium to protect her and her alone. Hopefully, the pillar would be enough to protect Noora sandwiched between them, and Sarah Jay couldn’t even shake her head when she saw the gunner leg it over to the opposite pillar while his loader’s legs showed he was still bent over the gun and trying to figure out what the problem might be instead of running for his life.

Didn’t have to think for long before the gatling exploded in his face, a sight Sarah Jay was mercifully spared from having to watch. Even with Hearing Protection, the echoing boom hit her like a punch to the gut, and she could hardly imagine how Noora might feel with only wool and beeswax to muffle the sound. Made her see stars with nothing but noise, and Sarah Jay couldn’t even shake her head to clear it until the Aegis Spell was done, a full five seconds of decent protection so long as it wasn’t a gun. Reeling in place as the protective energies faded away, she staggered back a step and tried to find her bearings only to spot what remained of the loader and upchuck her breakfast all over the ground. Couldn’t take her sweet time to recover either, as them orcs and bugbears were all pressed against the embrasure and tearing chunks out of the stone, screaming ‘Gah Roh’ and “Muh-Dur-Kheel’ while widening the hole bit by bit in their murderous frenzy to get at the people inside.

Whump went the Blastgun, and she almost lost her grip as it shot straight back and smacked her hip. Shaking her head as she took her stance, Sarah Jay scowled at yet another reminder of how far behind Howie she was, as he shot the Blastgun the same way he used most his weapons, firing off from the hip without breaking a sweat. Was a lot of corded muscle packed into his scrawny frame, and she could only imagine how strong he’d be once he settled down and filled out a bit.

Blast after Blast delivered death to the Abby horde, but without the gatling gun, there was no way she could hold the room with only one townie to help. Not that he was doing much of anything, just leaning against the pillar and looking at his dead friend instead of using either one of the revolvers holstered on his hips. When her Whumper clicked empty, Sarah Jay tossed it to Noora and said, “Get gone!” Girl didn’t miss a beat, and Sarah Jay was happy to see it as she reached for her component’s pouch and pulled out a finger-length strand of grass. Took her a moment to centre herself and focus on the Spell Structure she needed, recognizing it by the tell-tale spirals left by the trails of ever-moving lights. “Retineo – Aestus!” Intoned in a steady, monosyllabic cadence, the two words came out in seven parts over the course of four seconds as she traced a loop-de-loop pattern through the air and pointed at her target, a spot on the ground just about four and a half metres on the other side of the wall.

Plenty of room for improvement really, and she wasted a good twenty percent of the Spell’s area targeting where she did since the wall would obstruct the Spell and keep its effect from passing through inside. Could have aimed further out to catch more Abby, but it was a necessary trade-off to catch every last one pressed up against the walls. The Spell didn’t disappoint either as the grasping strands of pale white grass emerged from the sands to tangle the legs of Abby standing outside, who them turned their attentions to struggling free instead of tearing the bunker apart. Was only a matter of time now, and every second counted if she wanted to have any hopes of keeping this bunker intact. Wincing as she set herself in motion, she clenched her teeth and reloaded her Blastgun while limping her way out the door.

“Move!” She bellowed, spooking the shocked townie something fierce, but he didn’t seem to understand. On the other side of the embrasure, them orcish expressions grew furious to behold as they bellowed and grunted in renewed fury, enraged by the sight of their prey slipping away and redoubling their efforts to fight free. Rather than shoot the Blastgun and help them dig their way through the way, she let it hang from its shoulder strap and took up her Model 45, firing off shots with care and precision and yelled out over her shoulder, “Got a situation here!”

“Make way!” Hollering for all he was worth despite standing mere inches away, Drill Sergeant Begaye appeared seemingly out of nowhere and peered into the abandoned bunker with his customary scowl, looking no more out of sorts than any other day when the boots were failing to meet his exacting standards. “Third-rate junk,” he muttered as he looked over the scrap heap that was once a gatling and the bloodied mass of meat that was its gunner. Didn’t slow him none as he sauntered into the room like he owned the place. Sarah Jay followed close behind to provide fire support, but he waved her back without turning to look, because he was already halfway through his chant. Raising a fist like he was fixing to lay a smackdown on the horde bare-handed, he set out to do just that, swinging for the fences with a real vengeance despite standing a good three metres away from the embrasure opening, and another half-metre of stone away from Abby. Except halfway through the swing, Sarah Jay realized the Sergeant’s hands weren’t empty, or rather were no longer empty as he completed his Spell.

A glint of steel and flash of light. That’s all she saw at first glance, but then she watched an orc’s head fly off and she paid a bit more attention. Steel gleamed in the sunlight once again, and again, an orc lost its head, the stump spraying its greenish-black life’s blood out over the sands, but still Sarah Jay couldn’t tell what caused it. Took a few more tries before she spotted the Spell at work, and at first, she wasn’t all that sure she was seeing things right. When she was certain her eyes wasn’t playing tricks, it still took her a few seconds to piece everything together, and try as she might, she couldn’t understand what sort of Spell the Navajo Conjuror had come up with or why it was so damned effective.

When Sarah Jay thought of Conjurors, her first image was of a Spellslinger surrounded by summoned minions. A pack of wolves, flock of eagles, or maybe even a herd of buffalo, that’s how she imagined Drill Sergeant Begaye would fight. It was either that or something of a slow but heavy hitter, calling up storms of Lightning, throwing down Flaming Clouds, or hurling Surging Tides to electrify, burn, and wash away everything standing in his way. Those were pretty much the only two archetypes of Conjurors she knew about, because the other Conjuration Spells were mostly support. Web, Entangling Growth, Fog Cloud, Grease, that sort of stuff, none of which would do anything besides delay the inevitable Abby breakthrough.

Except Sarah Jay was wrong, and there was a third option no one ever told her about. Or rather they did, but she never paid it much mind, because it didn’t sound all that useful. Conjurors could also make simple melee weapons and metal armour out of Ecto, which might’ve been nice back in the days when good steel was in short supply and good craftsmen even rarer, but even here on the Frontier, armour was easy enough to make, and any Conjured weapon or would’ve been made obsolete by within a year or two at most. Largely because you couldn’t Conjure up so much as a working bow or crossbow, much less a gun, because the parameters of those items were too complex for the Spell to handle. Even chains were hard to make, though steel fibres were workable with practice. Had to do with the fact that the Spell was made for Abby, and they didn’t use nothing besides hard plates and pointed sticks before stealing Aetherarms away from humanity.

Which was why she and everyone else never gave the Conjure Weapon Spell much thought. All it could do was make you a sword, axe, spear, or whatever to hit something with, and if that was the case, then why not just carry a weapon around with you? The fact that real weapons could even be Imbued or Augmented made the Spell even worse, which was why most thought of it as a waste of a Spell, Sarah Jay included.

Sergeant Begaye took all of a second to prove her wrong, and all the haters too, as his weapon came to life out of his hands. The shiny steel tomahawk floated in mid-air as it struck out again and again, without any need to wind up or draw back it would seem. It swung hard and fast to scythe through Abby flesh and armour like a hot knife through butter, and when its momentum played it, it stopped for a beat before lashing out at the same angle with the same speed again and again. Didn’t take more than two shakes of a lamb’s tail for the tomahawk to make its way from one end of the embrasure to the other, clearing out every Abby pressed up against the wall along the way. All the while, the Drill Sergeant just stood there in his feathered Montana and watched with his pistol in his left hand, a shiny steel Sturm and Kitiara Longsword that didn’t look so impressive stacked up next to his head chopping, neck slicing, skull cracking tomahawk. Wasn’t plain and simple like the wedge-tip lumber axes and hatchets she was used to seeing, no, this tomahawk was a weapon of war and wasn’t shy about showing it. Had a wicked curve to its edge and a deadly spike at the back, with clean lines all about the smooth surface of its shiny head, and a solid steel octagonal haft to give it some extra heft. Wasn’t no one picking this tomahawk up to chop firewood, though it’d make short work of the job if they did, all without any need for hands as the Drill Sergeant directed his conjured weapon with the same effortless ease Howie directed his Mage Hands.

Now there was a frightening thought. The Firstborn was already a fast talking, gunfighting, Spell slinging machine; how much scarier would he be with two vicious tomahawks or whatnot slashing at everything around him while he fought?

“Stand down, washout,” Sergeant Begaye barked, glancing away from his work to look her up and down. “Part of being a soldier is knowing your limits. This was what, your fifth Spell of the day?”

Four Entangling Growths and a Mage Armour, the man had been keeping count, except he missed out on the Aegis she just used and the Mage Armour she threw on Noora when the fighting started. “Sir, Seventh, sir,” she corrected, only wincing after the fact, because it wasn’t like he was asking for an exact number.

That earned her a close look, followed by one of his rare, approving nods. “Not bad,” he grunted, before waving her away and turning back to his work. The tomahawk was outside the walls now, still swinging away at Abby, using the same pattern and even arc as every other swing before it, which meant there were at least some limitations to what the Conjured weapon could do compared to the shiny, glowy staff he summoned to beat on boots during hand-to-hand combat training using the Second Order Spiritual Weapon Spell. “Get some ice on that knee and lay down before you fall asleep on your feet,” the Drill Sergeant continued. “That’s an order.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Wasn’t until Sarah Jay was out of the bunker before she realized that was the first time she’d ever heard him speak instead of yell, and that he had a real soothing voice when he wasn’t screaming in your ear. Took her another few steps before she remembered to look for Noora, who she found trailing a step behind her with all three of her bags in tow. Reaching out to take one, the girl shook her head and hung on tight, seemingly afraid she’d be abandoned unless she proved her own worth. Sarah Jay wasn’t even sure if Noora knew it, at least not on a conscious level, so she smiled reassuringly and let the girl be until they were back in camp again. Took longer than Sarah Jay would’ve liked, as she had to pause to rest even though she barely had to go a full fifty metres one way, and saw plenty of injured townies pass her by on their way to the medics. Soon as she arrived, she Errol rushing out to find her, and seeing his handsome features light up in relief set a fire in her belly to be sure.

“Thank the Lord,” he said, lifting her up into a big bear hug in front of everyone before she could stop him. Glad she didn’t, because she didn’t realize how much she missed the feeling of his arms around her, even if they had two rifles and Blastgun getting in the way. “Thought you up and disappeared.”

“Nah,” she replied, shamelessly taking in his scent while luxuriating in the feel of his cheek pressed against hers. “Was out fightin’ the good fight. Back now to rest. Sergeant’s orders.”

Then we best get to it,” he replied, and the way he whispered it made that fire in her belly move south just a bit.

“Behave,” she said, unable to stop herself from giving him a peck on the cheek and wondering when they’d ever have time alone for themselves again. “Now put me down and help me hobble back inside.”

“Yes ma’am.” Errol earned himself an elbow to the ribs for his cheek, but Sarah Jay magnanimously forgave him on account of his smile as he supported her back to their sleeping spot, where Howie had sculpted out a leg rest for her to use while sleeping. Tired and drained though she might be, she didn’t lay down to sleep right away, and instead set to conducting an ammo and equipment check in between gulps of water and bites of jerky and hardtack. The exploding gatling really did a number of her head, so she checked each and every Spell Core in her four issued Aetherarms for signs of damage. Didn’t find any obvious cracks, chips, or fractures, so it was enough to soothe her nerves a bit, even though the continued gunfire and Abby shouts were wearing her thin. Most of the boots were doing the same, checking their gear and their ammo while winding down after the fight, even though the battle was still very much going on in the background. Weren’t any more gatlings sounding off in the distance, but plenty of rifles, pistols, and Blastguns echoing out in the distance to keep the mood tense and stress high.

At some point, Noora arrived with a cold compress in hand and helped Sarah Jay wrap it around her knee, even though she had to strip down to her sleeping shorts to do it. Was a time when she’d have turned red as the sun hanging overhead in the sky at the mere thought of showing off her drawers in public, but this last week of travelling with the boots had done much to relieve her of her modesty. The other boys were none too shy about pissing wherever they pleased while they was on the road, and while someone had hung up some curtains for privacy while using the jakes, only one person could use them at time, and most boys didn’t bother. Disgusted her at first, but it was incredible how quickly you could get used to certain things, like paying no mind to the man shitting not three metres away from where you sat.

“You a real peach Noora,” Sarah Jay said, and the gorgeous girl flashed her saucy little smile which made most of the boys find it hard to breath. Not Howie though, who seemed immune to most women’s charms, especially after learning about Kacey’s anti-Innate hissy fit after getting hit by the Fear Spell. He was still kind and cordial as could be with the lovely Nipponese beauty, but there was a polite distance he kept that wasn’t there before, or at least he hadn’t been too keen on maintaining. Now though, he treated Kacey like everyone else, with none of the quiet glances or shy inquiries he used to make when he wanted to know her better.

Was the same way with Noora too, despite being spotted coming down those steps half-dressed alongside her. Made her think his story was true, especially since he kept right on insisting they played cat’s cradle and did nothing untoward, and that Noora’s knowing smiles were mostly so the other boys would leave her alone. If Howie was gonna lie, he’d have come up with something better than that, and wouldn’t have stuck with it for so long due to how ridiculous it sounded. Couldn’t imagine any other boy their age stuck in a room alone with Noora who’d be able to keep his cool besides Howie, especially considering how many signals she was throwing up to let him know she was interested in something more than just games.

Glancing around camp while washing her hair with a Water Sphere, Sarah Jay finally noticed Howie wasn’t back yet, and asked, “Where’s the Firstborn at?”

“Still fighting by the front gate,” Kacey replied, and next to her, Tina nodded and pouted something fierce. “It was in danger of being overrun, so he left with the Captain to provide support.” Which was all sorts of interesting, but Sarah Jay couldn’t help but notice how neither one looked like they’d just been in a battle, while she was here scrubbing bits of what she hoped wasn’t the gunner out of her hair. Between them and Noora, Sarah Jay was starting to feel mighty outmatched in terms of looks, and not just because she was sitting around in her drawers. Despite fighting for so long out under the scorching desert sun, the other girls didn’t have a hair out of place. Kacey’s tight braid was looped up and tucked under her army cap, showing off her lovely nape and looking tidy as can be, while Tina’s new, neat hairstyle courtesy of Howie did wonders for her image. With her bangs no longer dangling about her face, Tina looked less like the belle of the ball and more like a beauty queen turned Ranger. Professional was the word, sharp and chic, with the hairstyle exposing the set of her jaw and full breadth of her ears to somehow make her look more beautiful and more dangerous at the same time.

Then there was Noora, with her dark, lustrous hair, soft, caramel skin, and soulful, suggestive eyes. They was the three beauties in camp, kicking Sarah Jay down to take the place of horse-faced Sally. As for Gabrielle, the only other woman in camp, she didn’t count, because she’d shaved her hair down to match the same crewcut most of the boys had and didn’t think nothing of it, a woman who was here to be a soldier first and foremost. Truth was, Sarah Jay envied Gabrielle’s mindset, because try as she might, she couldn’t even keep herself from throwing on some Makeup in the morning, much less entertain the thought of chopping off her long, brown locks.

A brief spell of drowsiness saw her head dip down real low before she recovered, and Sarah Jay realized she was more tired than she thought. Slinging seven Spells in quick succession was the reason, as her limit was currently eight in a day and had only just gotten there. Wasn’t half bad considering even the stand outs like Kacey and Tina were only at eleven and fourteen, but either way, Sarah Jay was all but tapped out. Much as she wanted to lay her head down and rest, she realized the other boots were talking about Howie’s exploits so she just had to listen in. “Anyone count how many Entangles he threw out?” Michael was asking, shaking his head in undisguised admiration. “Had to at least be twelve. Whole area in front of him was constantly covered in grass for most of the fight, and I don’t think he can hold the Spell for much more than base.”

“You see his aim?” Ike asked, shaking his head with eyes wide open. “I knew he could shoot, but man can throw too. Wasn’t just lobbing his molotovs at the closest targets, but picking out the densest groups and hitting them dead centre time after time. Should try his hand at playing quarterback sometime.”

“You should’ve seen him Grease the wall,” Antoni exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear like a madman. “Those orcs were hurtling towards us, ready to jump and climb as soon as they hit stone, but Howie timed his Spell to land just as the first wave was in the air. Was perfect timing, I shit you not, with those leaping orcs ready to dig into the stone and climb, only to slip and slam face first into the lubed-up wall.” Cackling as he slapped his leg, he added, “The others kept trying and landing on the orcs under them, and Howie let them pile up for a good minute before lighting them all on fire with a Molotov. Never seen anyone kill that many greenies with a single First Order Spell, and probably got more than any of those Fireballs we saw out in the desert.”

“You can get a lot of mileage out of First Order Spells,” Howie chimed in, returning to camp with a big, genuine smile pasted across his face. Looked none the worse for wear after the fight and seemed energetic enough to go another ten rounds if need be. “Cantrips too,” he continued, once everyone was finished welcoming him back with grins and high-fives, though Errol absence was telling. “Once used Mould Earth to start a mudslide up by Mirador’s way. Buried a band of Ferals beneath it, then sat around and waited to shoot them dead once they dug themselves out.”

A distinctive high-pitch whistle sounded out in the distance to cut through the chatter, and every boot in camp turned towards it. Wasn’t anything to see even in the mid-afternoon sun, so they sat and listened as the pitch dropped and whistle grew soft and quiet. Then the sound cut short, culminating in a low, rushing roar that grew at a rapid pace, and off in the distance, they saw a plume of sand rise up out of the ground as the rumbling explosion rocked the sands at least a kilometre away. A Bombard Spell, one Metamagicked up to the gills and delivered by a Mortar Tube in the hands of an experienced Ranger. Lobbed a shell is all the tube did, a shell which the Bombard Spell Core at the base of the tube had fixed onto as its target. After a set amount of time, the Spell Core would activate and deliver a devastating deluge of arcane force onto the target shell, destroying it and everything around it in a single, concentrated strike.

The single Bombard Spell was merely the prelude to kick things off as the Rangers made their presence known. Fireballs erupted and glassed the sands clean, while Flaming Clouds and Moonbeams swept around the walls to pick off those Abby they’d missed. The angry roar of machine gun fire sounded out in brief but emphatic bursts, ones that lasted just long enough to say ‘die Aberration die’. Then they’d pause for a beat before kicking back up again, a practice taught in Basic that was meant to stretch the longevity of their Cores and barrels. There were no more orcish grunts of Gah Roh, Kar-Rhul, or any other such nonsense, only unholy shrieks and undignified squeals as the Rangers came down the mountain and sent the Aberration horde running for the dunes.

“Course, there gonna come a day when we won’t need to rely on First Order so much,” Howie said, picking back up where he left off while staring off into the distance. “But I ain’t willing to wait for the tech to catch up. We Frontier born, every last one of us, and we won’t need all them fancy gadgets. Once we’re good and ready, we’ll head out and tame these wild lands once and for all.”

“Hooyah!” Came the response, the standard Ranger battle cry since their maiden battle.

Blink and you’d miss it, but Sarah Jay was watching close, and she saw the dark cloud crossing over Howie’s expression, a mood that came and went like a tumblevine in the breeze. Was a sad thing to see, him all twisted up about not being a Ranger, when really it was all he ever really wanted. Waving him over to cheer him up, Sarah Jay said, “Big Spells are nice and all, but I gotta say, I find it more impressive to see someone use a First Order Spell effectively. Like your Mage Hands, or Sergeant Begaye’s Conjured Weapon.” Was a direct line for Howie to yammer on about how the Spell worked and how good he was with it, but he didn’t take the bait. Just stood there and cocked his head to ask her to go on, so she did and told him all about how the Drill Sergeant cut down a whole swathe of orcs with his First Order Spell.

In what came as a complete surprise, Howie sat still and listened to her whole story without uttering a peep, then stopped to think for a good long minute. “You sure it was Conjure Weapon?” he asked, sounding hesitant to even mention it. “Could have been Spiritual Weapon, which is a Second Order Spell.”

Shaking her head, Sarah Jay said, “Nope. Seen him use that one in training, and that wasn’t it. Spiritual Weapon conjures up a spectral weapon, one that’s all glowy and floaty like your Mage Hands. That tomahawk the Sergeant Conjured up was pure polished steel. It even gleamed in the sunlight and got covered in Abby ichor.”

“Huh.” Looking more lost and dazed than ever, Howie turned to Tina and Kacey who were sitting and listening off to the side. “Either of you ever hear of a Conjured Weapon attacking on its lonesome?” They both shook their heads, and Howie heaved a soft little sigh. His shoulders slumped down too, even as he tried to rally with a smile, one that barely touched his lips much less reach his eyes. “Well, thanks for sharing,” he said, pounding the sand lightly with a fist. “That’s some food for thought then, something to look into when I got the time.”

He didn’t know. Sarah Jay didn’t know why she found it so hard to believe, that there was something about Spellslinging he had yet to learn. Just seemed like he had all the answers really, a detailed, step by step plan for how to improve from now until he became an Archmagus standing at the pinnacle of arcane mastery. Wasn’t like this was some common knowledge, seeing how Sarah Jay had only just learned it herself, so she didn’t know why it was so surprising to learn Howie didn’t know everything. The quirk with Conjure Weapon was probably something only experienced Spellslingers could pull off, rather than a basic facet of the Spell available to anyone who picked it up, and that sort of knowledge wasn’t usually shared, so Howie not knowing wasn’t the end all be all.

Broke her heart to see it though, because even her tired mind was able to put the pieces together and figure it out. Howie was the Marshal’s bonafide apprentice, which was partially why he was such a great Spellslinger, except they wasn’t teacher and student no more, not after what happened with Mr. Ming. Everyone talked about it, believed Howie cut ties because he blamed the Marshal for not doing more, but while Sarah Jay believed it was Howie’s decision, she couldn’t believe it was out of anger. Despite his hair-trigger of a temper, Howie was a considerate and compassionate man, else he wouldn’t have kept doing Tina’s hair day after day even though the other boots made fun of him for it. No, Howie likely begged off their lessons so folks wouldn’t criticize the Marshal, or ask why he was spending his time teaching a student who wasn’t interested in joining the Rangers.

Wasn’t anyone’s business besides Howie and the Marshal’s, but folks do love to gossip.

To think, Howie was this far ahead despite having no one to teach him these last three years, which made Sarah Jay want to work alongside him all the more. Hoping to change the mood, she leaned and interrupted Howie’s silent musing to ask, “So now that we stuck here in town with an Abby horde at the gates, you gonna tell us what’s really goin’ on here?”

“Who says there’s anything to tell?” Howie asked, all sly smiles and mysterious winks as usual. “You sharp as a tack Jay, but there are some things you don’t ask.”

“Because if you could tell us, you would.” Shooting him a look that said in no uncertain terms she wasn’t happy being left in the dark, she sighed and asked, “Well, you think this is the last of it, or is there more to come?”

“Definitely more to come.” Howie made no effort to keep his voice down, and he looked around to make sure the boots were paying attention. “This here was just an a-moose boosh. An appetizer if you will,” he added, and only then did it click that he was speaking French and saying ‘amuse bouche’. “See, the thing about Abby and their Proggies is they ain’t so great at communicating,” Howie continued, utterly ignorant of the irony in his statement. “If a Proggie wants them to hit a certain place for a certain reason, all it can really do is point them where to go. It’s up to the Abby to decide how its done, and most Abby in the here and now ain’t too bright.” Shrugging, Howie gestured towards the walls and the horde beyond them. “The ones that attacked today? You saw ‘em for yourselves. Armoured. Aggressive. Full of vim and vigour sure, but if brains were leather, they wouldn’t have enough between them all to stitch me a saddlebag.” Sucking his teeth while the boots chuckled, Howie adjusted his holsters and said, “Them’s were newborn Abby. Fresh as a mountain stream and greener than green, and I ain’t talkin’ about their skin.”

The lack of weapons, clothing, and armour should have clued Sarah Jay in, but she was only realizing it now. “So what?” she asked, still speaking before she could think, and she could only blame it on fatigue. “They was the chaff?”

“In a sense,” Howie replied, shrugging for lack of a better answer. “Don’t get it twisted. Wasn’t like the Proggie ordered them to their deaths to test our defenses. They ain’t that coordinated or communicative, not without a Synapse around, and if they had one, they’d have done better than today. They came at us in waves, eager ones jumping the gun and encouraging others to join in on the fun, because they so new they plum don’t know better. The ones at the back, standing around and watchin’? They the ones to worry about, because they won’t come as us screaming in broad daylight. No, they’ll wait for nightfall and try to take us in the dark, or lob Spells from afar before running away right quick. Could fall back and go after anyone who wanders out them gates in an effort to starve us out, or one of a thousand other tricks and traps they could try other than a head on attack.”

Looking around at the boots and meeting their eyes one by one, Howie held his tongue for a long minute before breaking out into a smile. “But they still just Abby in the end. We’ll get one over on them, don’t you doubt that. So check your guns, fill your ammo pouch, restock your Spell components, top off your waterskins, and grab some grub and some z’s. We gonna win this fight, but like I told some of y’all before, every time you square up and draw, there’s always a chance you won’t walk away. Best y’all do everything you can to make sure you walk away from this one, because we here are the forefront of our generation, and it’s our job to clear the way for the rest. Got a lot of work ahead of us, so can’t be slippin’ at the startin’ line, now can we?”

There it was, Howie’s philosophy in a nutshell, why he took so much pride in being the Firstborn and demanded so much of himself. This was a man who’d chosen to shoulder the burdens of an entire generation at the tender age of seventeen, and he did it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Didn’t matter that his parents were gone, or that he didn’t want to be a Ranger no more. He clung to this thankless burden like it was expected of him, except no one would thank him for his efforts or blink twice if he chose to step back. Turning to look at her man, Sarah Jay hoped Errol would see this side of Howie and come to understand him a little better, to understand that their goals were aligned even if they didn’t see eye to eye on how to go about it. They were birds of a feather they were, good, virtuous, righteous men of the Frontier, and she hoped that together, they could join the Firstborn’s crew and help bear that burden together.

Then, as if to show that Howie was nothing if not a realist, he leaned in close and gestured for Noorah and Sarah Jay to do the same. “If things look like they goin’ south,” he said, giving them a look to make sure they were listening. “Then fall back to the wagon. Me and Cowie will do what we can to get everyone out, but I won’t go runnin’ around lookin’ for anyone in the middle of a crisis. Got it?”

It is what it is, and Sarah Jay nodded in agreement. The fact that they were here trying to save Pleasant Dunes was already more than enough. If the walls couldn’t hold, then the town was lost, and it’d be every man and woman for themselves. Even the Rangers wouldn’t stick around for an impossible fight, though they’d likely retreat, regroup and hit the horde again after a good long rest. Hit and run, bombard and sweep, Spells blazing and gun’s smoking, whatever sort of fight the Rangers decided to take, it would be one they could win, because there wasn’t no winning here inside of Pleasant Dunes, not if Abby was already in.

Granted, the Rangers’ eventual victory would be too little too late for most of the townies, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. You win some, you lose some, and sometimes walking away is a win, whether it felt like it or not.