Firstborn of the Frontier

The open road was wildly overrated.

That’s how Sarah Jay felt after a week of hard riding and rough living. The sunburns she could live with, and the muscle aches from long days in the saddle was manageable, but when it came time to sleep at night, all her misery was compounded by the lack of a mattress beneath her back and a roof over her head. Then there was the food, which wasn’t just unpalatable, but damn near inedible, as in her teeth were not strong enough to chew through the hard-tack, and her jaw lacking the stamina needed to grind dried jerky into something soft enough to swallow. The cold nights were miserable, but still better than the soggy mornings when she’d wake up covered in dew or rain. An experience made worse by the absence of her man’s embrace, one she sorely missed. A few stolen kisses and clothed fumbling were hardly enough to dampen her ardour over the last week, though the fact that Howie knew about their little trysts had been a rude awakening indeed.

Her fault really, for thinking they could sneak around without the Firstborn’s notice. It started off innocent enough, with her sitting next to Errol for a bit of warmth and comfort in these trying times. A shoulder to lean on for a few minutes before bed, that’s all she wanted, but once she was there, she quickly realized she wanted more, and her man wasn’t one to say no. A tent. That’s what they needed, no matter what Howie might say. Even a simple lean-to, something to keep the wind and rain off them as they slept, that’s all she really wanted.

After the better part of six days of riding, they were coming up to Meadowbrook, and Sarah Jay was desperate for a hot meal, warm bath, and a soft bed. Not to mention human contact aside from Errol and Howie. She loved her man something fierce, and still respected the Firstborn, but they were both getting on her last nerve. Six days they’d been on the road, and if not for her, Errol would’ve worn the same set of clothes throughout it all without so much as a second thought. As for Howie, he had better hygiene and was good company back in town, but out on the open road, it seemed like all he could talk about were the dangers they might find. Fisherfolk cultists who sacrificed animals to the Proggie under Last Chance Lake, pyromaniac bootleggers who set the forest on fire a few years back, a family of reckless alchemists with less than thirty fingers between the four of them, it all sounded so crazy and unrealistic that she could hardly believe him. Then there were the more mundane dangers which he overemphasized, warning them against camping with unfamiliar folk and pushing them to find a concealed camping ground each and every night.

Except if Howie was really all that concerned with safety, then why did he spend his days slouched in his wagon seat with boots up and hat low? Man told tall tales and played cat’s cradle with his Mage Hands by himself all day. Even now while they were riding through this supposed no man’s land, he looked all relaxed and cheery as could be, no different from any other day. Even stopped a few times to snap Photos of wildlife and point out trails to unofficial settlements along the way. Only time he ever went alert was when they spotted people along the Highway, but Sarah Jay felt it was more of a show than anything else, something to keep his prospects on their toes.

A show he kept up as the day wore on and the gates of Meadowbrook came into view, all without incident mind you. Though nowhere near as pretty as New Hope’s solid stone walls, Meadowbrook’s concrete fortifications were tall and sturdy enough to hold off whole armies of Abby, but Lord help them all if they didn’t let Sarah Jay through those double darksteel gates. As they drew closer to the town, the road grew thick with wagons and travellers making the same trip, some of whom greeted Howie by name. He called back as friendly as can be and chatted most of them up along the way, once again undermining all his dire warnings and whatnot, but one could hardly fault the Firstborn for knowing a lot of folk. Spent more time on the road than in New Hope most years, and while he wasn’t the most sociable sort, he was friendly enough when he wanted to be.

They were less than an hour away from strolling through Meadowbrook’s gates when Howie stopped chatting and called for them to pull over off the road. “Change of plans,” he said, and Sarah Jay’s heart dropped as she watched a second wagon pull over right behind them. She’d long since started tuning Howie’s ramblings out, so she hadn’t the foggiest clue what he’d been going on about with their fellow travellers. Was this a friendly stop or an unfriendly one? Seeing right through her consternation, Howie flashed his grin and gave a disapproving shake of his head to mock her for not paying attention, and she felt her cheeks go bright and hot. “Mister Hendricks back there has graciously offered to buy my cargo at cost,” Howie said, which was puzzling to say the least. Selling at cost meant he’d just wasted the last six days carting it over from New Hope, but he didn’t seem too put off by it.

Apparently, that was all the explanation they were gonna get as Howie hopped off the side of his wagon and sauntered on back to unload his cargo. Envying the ease with which he could walk, Sarah Jay slowly slid out of the saddle and stifled a groan as her abused and aching thighs spasmed in protest. Hopping off without so much as a wince, Errol took Fifi’s reins from her hands and gave Sarah Jay a consoling look, one that did nothing but stoke her ire in more ways than one. Was her fault for repeatedly crossing the boundaries laid out by Howie, but she was supposed to be playing the part of Jay, a young man ready to make his mark on the Frontier. A story difficult enough to sell even without Errol making doe eyes at her. She didn’t mind so long as no one else was around, except now wasn’t the time. Giving him a dark glare, she snatched the reins back and shooed him away as she hobbled on back to cover Howie.

That’s what they was hired on for, so that’s what she would do.

Something Errol hadn’t quite figured out yet, as he handed her his reins and reached in to grab a box from the wagon. “Nah, none of that,” Howie said, similarly shooing Errol away. “I pay you to shoot, not haul. Know your worth Errol. I ain’t sharing no profits from trading, so I don’t expect you to help with it.” Then, because he was too polite to say anything more, Howie gave Errol a look that said, ‘So look sharp and make sure no shooting starts’, a look that Sarah Jay’s man missed entirely as he smiled and leaned against the wagon instead.

In Errol’s defense, this seemed like more of Howie’s overabundance of caution, as the bald and burly Mr. Hendricks was content to watch his people load his new cargo into his wagon. Didn’t not even bother checking most of the boxes, and when all that was said and done, Howie handed over a cargo manifest and Mr. Hendricks handed over a stack of bills. If it was truly at cost, then Sarah Jay could see why Howie was always out and about. There was no doubting his skills as a gunfighter and Spellslinger, but as far as she could tell, he was a God-awful trader. Man overpaid more often than not, and that was after insisting he pay full price rather than accept any friends and family discount. Now, here he was emptying his wagon at cost, which was essentially a loss considering how many transportation companies made their fortunes hauling cargo from New Hope to Meadowbrook, and here Howie was doing it for free.

Didn’t make a lick of sense, and Sarah Jay had half a mind to sit Howie down and teach him how to haggle once Mr. Hendrick’s caravan was away and gone. “Alright,” Howie said, with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips as if he’d done something worth puffing his chest up about, “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk shop.” That got Sarah Jay’s attention, and Errol’s too, because it meant Howie was about to give them a talking to. A gentle one, but that didn’t make it sting any less when he pointed out all their mistakes. “In any exchange, you want to at least appear vigilant,” Howie began, giving Sarah Jay’s hands a pointed look. “Means keeping your hands free to draw your sidearm if need be, instead of holding two reins of two horses who ought to be tied off, so they don’t go running should any shooting start.”

Made perfect sense, and Sarah Jay felt real small for overlooking so simple a fact. How was she supposed to cover him if she was busy clinging onto Fifi and Bruno? As for Errol, he got a talking to for turning his back to the strangers, crossing his arms, and watching Howie, which was the exact opposite of what he should’ve done. Six days of boring, uneventful travel had left them both careless, and truth was, Sarah Jay wished Howie would come down on them harder for their mistakes. He was too nice about it, unlike the drill sergeants back in Basic who’d berate you for every tiny mistake while you marched off your demerits, a shameful and exhausting experience which made you work all the harder to avoid having to go through it again.

Howie pointed out a few more mistakes before pulling a map out of his pouch and spreading it out for them to look at. “So here’s what I was thinking,” Howie said, tapping a little crenellated marker on the map labelled Meadowbrook before tracing a path east along the Highway. “We’re here, and folks been saying there’s a Ranger staging ground here, another fifty or so klicks away. Right around the bend of the Highway at the edge of the Coral Desert, which presents us with the perfect opportunity to do some hunting.”

“You want to bring us out into the desert?” Errol asked, sounding hesitant as could be, but Sarah Jay was all fired up for some action.

“And maybe have a gander at the badlands from afar while we’re there,” Howie replied, like he was suggesting a picnic at the park. “Let you see the sights as it were, shoot some Abby maybe, then get back to rest in relative safety next to a Ranger guarded location. Doubt we’ll see much more than foraging goblins, but you never know. It’d be about the best training conditions we can get short of hiring on a Strike Team to keep us safe, which I can’t afford.” And shouldn’t have to, as Howie had spent a damn fortune on them already.

“Why are the Rangers setting up a staging camp?” Sarah Jay asked. “What they staging for?”

“Oh sorry, my mistake,” Howie replied, scratching his jaw. “Shouldn’t call it that. Official story is that it’s a temporary outpost meant to improve public safety in No Man’s Land, with a chance of turning into a permanent one should things work out.”

“And unofficially?” she asked.

Giving her a big grin, Howie said, “There are some things you don’t ask, because if I could tell you, I would. What I can’t do is tell you is that I can’t tell you, or why I can’t tell you, because if I did, then you’d know something was afoot.” Which was really just a roundabout way of saying nothing at all, but Howie seemed so pleased by his twisty non-answer that Sarah Jay didn’t have the heart to tug at any strings. “Anywho,” Howie continued, ignoring any questioning gazes to turn back to the map, “I figure we ought to push on ahead and travel through the night to reach the outpost by morning. Then we take the day to rest and prep before heading out to hopefully make some real money.” Giving them both a look, Howie asked, “So? How about it? You two up for some hunting?”

Errol and Sarah Jay traded glances, and she could see the doubt in his eyes, just as she knew he could see the yearning in hers, but he was a cautious one. “What if we say no?” Errol asked, probably just to hear the answer.

Howie blinked, then shrugged. “I drop you off in Meadowbrook I suppose, then go hunting by my lonesome,” he said, after a moment’s thought, as if only now realizing they might refuse. “Guess we should’ve had this conversation before I sold off all my cargo, yea?” That’s the Firstborn for you though, an Abby killing machine who didn’t think twice before diving headlong into the fray. Maybe in his eyes, this hunting trip really was more of a picnic than anything else, considering he did most of his hunting in the badlands. “No pressure,” Howie added, still as kind and congenial as could be, which really wasn’t what Sarah Jay needed right now. If Howie was gonna run his own crew, he had a lot to learn about leading.

Which made Sarah Jay feel a bit better really, seeing how the Firstborn had flaws of his own. Made him more relatable.

“You think we’re ready for this?” Errol asked, still not sold on the idea.

“Wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t,” Howie replied, with so much confidence it made Sarah Jay stand up straighter. “You both showed your mettle during that harpy attack, and orcs and goblins are much less threatening than harpies, especially when you riding around in my wagon. There’s more to go over, but we got time, so best we settle this now. You in or you out? No hard feelings either way.”

Sarah Jay didn’t need no convincing, and Errol was less reluctant than his questions made him appear. He was just worried is all, mostly about her, because he knew he was out of his depth and didn’t quite trust Howie enough to see them through safely. Why, she couldn’t say, as the Firstborn had shown his skills in that same harpy attack, one the whole town came out to celebrate. Pride maybe, as Errol didn’t like playing second fiddle to the Firstborn, but he best get over that right quick, because Howie stood head and shoulders above them both when it came to skill and experience.

Truth was, riding with the Firstborn was like a dream come true for Sarah Jay, the harsh discomforts of reality aside. Was even better than signing on with the Rangers in her opinion, because it gave her the freedom to go where she pleased and a chance earn big when she needed it the most, instead of being restricted by Ranger guidelines and responsibilities. The only reason she’d wanted to sign on in the first place was for the pay and a chance to avenge her daddy. Killing a couple harpies wasn’t enough, because that wouldn’t change nothing. No, she wanted to put an end to the whole damn burrow, delve down into the tunnels from which them harpies emerged and butcher the Proggie which spawned them. Word was that Howie’s daddy scoured the countryside for years looking for that particularly problematic Proggie, as did several other famous Ranger Scouts, like Drex Durden, Madigan Harper, or even Ekun, the West African Ranger living in Meadowbrook up ahead. Laid up with a broken leg, as it were, but still one of the best to ever do it, and not a single one of those famous Scouts had managed to uncover the harpy burrow.

The way she saw it, joining the Rangers had been her best shot at taking part in the military operation to clear that burrow once it was found. Most believed the harpies were spawned somewhere deep in the Divide, the cavernous canyon smack dab in the middle of the badlands that in separated the two halves of the continent. Drex Durden and his corridor companions were often down there Scouting out burrows and killing Proggies, and they were the best of the best, so Sarah Jay had set her goals high to start with. Course, those dreams all went up in smoke when she saw how the Rangers treated Errol after his dust up with Richard, but she wasn’t the only one who believed Howie would one day join the ranks of best Scouts this side of the Divide.

The Rangers had always been a long shot to see her dreams come true, which was why she hadn’t hesitated to drop out of Basic to support Errol, and she didn’t blame him one bit for it. The mess with Richard wasn’t his fault, but this was different, and Sarah Jay wasn’t sure how she’d feel if Errol’s stubborn, senseless pride ruined their chances with the Firstborn too.

“Alright,” Errol said, after a long look at Sarah Jay’s pleading eyes. “We’re in.”

“Great!” Howie exclaimed, tucking away his map and gesturing at the horses. “Unsaddle Bruno and Fifi there, and get some water and feed in all four. Might as well do it now before we set off. Leave Sunshine and Winnie unsaddled, as you two can ride in the wagon now that it’s empty.” That was a small mercy, though Errol made a face like he’d rather spend all night in a saddle, a fate worse than death in her opinion. Once they were underway, Howie leaned back in his seat to talk them through the lesson, and Sarah Jay did her best to hang onto his every word. “So the Coral Desert and the Snake Fang mountain Range behind it is gobbo territory,” Howie began, and for once, didn’t immediately go off on a tangent. “Dark green humanoid Abby, ugly, bipedal and built for close combat. Short bursts of high speeds followed by long hours of hacking and slashing, that’s their forte. Real threatening if you go at ‘em with sword and shield, but those times are long past. Shoot and scoot, that’s the idea, hit and run until ain’t none left standing. Jay, you’ll be posted up front in the driver’s seat, and Errol, you’ll be hunkered down in the back. If we come across a patrol, then we’ll hit them hard from range inside the wagon while Cowie brings ‘em on a merry chase across the open desert. Be like shooting fish in a barrel really, because even if Abby do shoot back, most only got a standard range of forty to eighty metres and no Metamagics to speak of.”

Seemed simple enough, but it couldn’t be that easy, an opinion Sarah Jay didn’t hesitate to share. “You right,” Howie replied, nodding along with a grin. “They won’t just chase you endlessly, nor will they do it mindlessly. They a cunning bunch, will try to herd you towards another group, or spread out and take cover to wait for you to come back. Even seen some act dead so that when hunters came to collect, those Abby would get the jump on them. That’s where the Bolt Cantrip comes in handy. Pays to put one through the skull of every corpse from afar before getting in close, because even a tiny goblin can tear the flesh right off your bones if it gets a good grip on you.” Waving a hand though, Howie said, “You let me worry about keeping Abby on the hook though. You two just gotta stay in the wagon, and be ready to take whatever shots you get. Don’t go looking for them, just let it happen.”

There was more to go over, like angle of fire, best targets to aim for, and making every shot count, and Howie went over it all one by one, then made sure it all sunk in by referencing back to it often enough to get on Sarah Jay’s last nerve. He also ran them through a couple drills to make sure they didn’t make any mistakes once the fighting started, telling them in no uncertain terms that this was for serious. The sun set and the moons rose high into the sky before Howie let off, suggesting they get some shut eye while they could. More than happy to snuggle up with Errol, Sarah Jay quietly marvelled at what a difference having a roof overhead could make. Wasn’t much inside the spacious wagon besides their saddlebags, some neatly stored tools and supplies, as well as a crate of bottles filled with what Sarah Jay assumed was alcohol of some sort, since it wouldn’t make sense to cart water around in glass. Something to sell to the Rangers no doubt, so poor trader though he might be, Howie was always hustling, which Sarah Jay could respect. Considering how he made most of his money hunting Abby and outlaws, she assumed trading was mostly an excuse to get out of New Hope, one he needed to sell Aunty Ray on. Now that he was setting up a crew to watch his back, it seemed like he was gearing up to go hunting full time, and she looked forward to getting in on the ground floor.

Nestled in Errol’s embrace, Sarah Jay slept all through the night, the best rest she’d gotten all week, and she didn’t wake up until Howie knocked on the wagon. “Wakey wakey,” he said, louder than necessary, and Sarah Jay fought the urge to snarl. “Quit your snoring, open them peepers, and poke your heads out for a look-see,” Howie continued, oblivious to just how close he was to losing his head. “Up and at ‘em now. You gotta learn to wake faster than that, because Abby and outlaws ain’t gonna give you time to stretch and yawn.”

Which made perfect sense, but didn’t help quell Sarah Jay’s ire none as she leaned out to look at whatever it was Howie wanted them to see. Sometime during the night, they’d left behind the peach-white forests and ventured into the Coral Desert, which wasn’t quite the barren wilderness she’d pictured in mind. It was quite lovely in fact, illuminated by the moons and the stars as it were, a pink and white sea of sandy dunes rolling across the horizon, dotted with coarse, purplish shrubs and prickly green cacti, as well as a smattering of colourful flowers here and there. If not for the sand, she wouldn’t have known it was a desert, not exactly. Maybe it got worse further east, but it was rather pretty and lively as far as she could tell, not as dense in vegetation as the forests or grasslands, but still a land full of life and vitality

No, they weren’t quite in the desert just yet, as the sides of the Highway was still covered in white grass and black dirt, but with far less vegetation than she was used to seeing. There were a few trees here and there, sparse, spindly little things scattered across the landscape that were barely twice her height, if that. A far cry from the towering pillars she’d grown up alongside, but cut from the same cloth as it were, and as she glanced back behind them, she saw the landscape slowly meld back into familiar grassy lowlands and hilly forests. So this was no man’s land, a rather poor name for a place of such beauty, a crossroads between three vastly different but equally beautiful landscapes.

Ah, not three, but four, and as Sarah Jay turned her sights to the Southeast, she couldn’t help but gasp. Errol did the same beside her only a beat later, and she couldn’t blame him, because no matter how much they’d heard about the badlands, words could never describe it. Barren didn’t even touch upon the empty vastness before her, a land completely devoid of any life or sustenance whatsoever. It was a wasteland, plain and simple, scoured clean of any and all biomass by Abby and brought back to feed their hungry Progenitors. The desert, though arid and inhospitable, was still a beautiful and natural landscape, one thriving in arid conditions, while the badlands were anything but. Dried and cracked ground stretched out as far as her eyes could see, and she saw not a single sign of life across those barrens, nor anything that hinted at any ability to sustain it. Even the dark soil seemed drained and enervated, dry and lifeless and bereft of that soft, loamy texture, but also lacking the finer aspects of sand and dust.

This was a wound upon the world, the Divide a scar upon the Frontier, one dealt to these lands by Aberrations and Progenitors alike.

“Ugly ain’t it,” Howie said, sounding chipper as ever, even though it seemed like he’d been up all night. “A land scoured cleaned by Abby, that’s what that is right there, and what the rest of the Frontier will look like if we let them have their way. I won’t be bringing you to the badlands anytime soon though, not until I know you can take care of yourselves. Orcs and goblins at least gotta eat and breathe and such, plus they fight in a familiar fashion. The badland favours bug-like Abby, ones who can burrow underground and hibernate for days, weeks, even months before coming up again. Makes things dangerous, as even if you walked a route before, that don’t mean it’s safe.” Though she was dying to hear more, Howie changed subjects without warning, much to Sarah Jay’s chagrin. “Outpost is up ahead,” he said, pointing out a distant blob that didn’t look any different from its surroundings. “We’ll pull up there, have ourselves a hot meal, then you two can take turns standing guard while I sleep and prep.”

“What sort of prep do you need to do, hoss?” Sarah Jay asked, hoping she could help him along. They’d done little enough all week, so it wouldn’t hurt to remind Howie that he wasn’t riding solo no more.

“Change out some Spells mostly,” he replied, shattering all of her hopes and dreams, but maybe she could salvage something from this.

“Oh? What sort of loadout you use for hunting?” Sarah Jay did everything she could to make the question sound casual, but she was just dying to know more about Howie’s Spell slinging abilities. He played things close to the vest and didn’t talk about it much, but she mostly wanted to know how many Second Order Spells he had at his fingertips. Misty Step and Web were the only ones she knew about, and both were Conjuration Spells, but she had yet to see him really flex his famed Divination abilities.

Giving her a toothy grin that said she wasn’t fooling him none, Howie answered all too casually, “Depends really. For the Coral Desert, I like to throw in Detect Magic, Find Hidden Objects, and Find Magical Traps. On account of the illusionist hobgoblin what roams these parts, a real sneaky little feller that’s been causing trouble for almost a year now with all its traps and ambushes. Doesn’t normally show himself this far west anymore, but better safe than sorry.” That made for two more Second Order Spells, namely the last two listed, and Sarah Jay suspected he had many more. While they were in town, Howie worked himself like a madman casting Spells every night, exhausting himself in an effort to grow his limits just a tiny bit each day. The act itself wasn’t particularly uncommon, as almost every Spell slinger did the same, but Howie would cast Spells until he could barely hold his head upright.

Spell Slinging took a lot out of you, but mentally rather than physically. When Sarah Jay hit her limits, she felt all dizzy and foggy headed, with the world wrapped in a haze that narrowed her vision down to whatever was in front of her face. As for Howie, he pushed himself far beyond even that, like keeping fit by running suicides until he collapsed rather than going for a jog every night. Driven is what he was, not just to familiarize himself with the Spells at his disposal, but also no doubt pushing himself to reach Third Order Spells, a lofty goal for a man not yet eighteen. Sarah Jay would count herself talented if she could cast a Second Order Spell by this time next year, which only showed how far she still had yet to go.

They didn’t say much else until they reached the outpost, which wasn’t much to look at, just a single wooden scout tower surrounded by shallow trenches and a smattering of wood-log spikes to discourage anyone from rushing in. There were sandbags aplenty too, and several large support weapons scattered about, including five gatling guns, a heavy Lancer, and even a pair of mortars she could spot, but the true heavy artillery was the Rangers themselves. They’d be well equipped with area of effect Spells to slaughter Abby in droves, not just the basic Blast Spell, but advanced magics like Moonbeam, Scorching Fissure, and of course the versatile Third Order Fireball as well. There was a full company here, twenty battle-hardened Rangers working in shifts, and Sarah Jay wasn’t ashamed to admit she quailed before their hardened gazes, fixed upon Howie’s wagon as it approached.

“Ignore them,” Howie said, ignoring his own advice as he grinned and waved, a greeting which went unreturned. “They all just sour because we taking advantage of their presence to earn a living. There might be other mercs dropping by, but ignore them too, and wake me if they approach. We’ll set up a little further out away from the crowd, where the hustle and bustle of construction won’t be more than a buzz.” A little further turned out to be about two hundred meters away, well within range of the Ranger’s weapons, but also somewhat concealed by the smattering of loomshrubs and cacti. As soon as they stopped, he angled the wagon so it’s back was facing the outpost before popping open the right-side panel on his wagon, which lifted up like a bird’s wing and created an awning for them to sit under. Then he did the same to the other side, which turned his enclosed steel wagon into an open, breezy structure, one which went a long ways towards explaining why the Firstborn didn’t own a tent, as he pretty much drove around in a steel camper.

Say one thing about the Firstborn, but he came prepared. Even had an exterior cabinet on the side of his wagon for storing firewood, which he used to cook them up a hot meal of beans, pickled sneezeweed, and canned meat. The food was a far cry from Aunty Ray’s delectable dishes, but a welcome change after so many weeks of travel rations, and Sarah Jay devoured it all with unseemly haste. Once done with breakfast and cleaning up, Howie crawled into the back of his wagon and fell asleep cuddled up with Cowie, while Errol took first watch and left Sarah Jay to study her notes. Two hours later, she switched places with her man, though he opted to clean his guns rather than study his Spells. She would have to have a word with him about that, as he really needed to put more effort into learning instead of wholly relying on his natural, Intuitive ways.

Nothing happened over the course of the day, but Howie didn’t sleep for more than six hours, and once he was up, he told the two of them to get some rest. “Sleep while you can, because we’ll be up hunting all night. Even if we don’t find anything, I want you both alert and ready at all times, which is more tiring than it sounds. I’ll keep watch from the driver’s seat, so settle in and relax.” Try as she might, she couldn’t quite get herself to fall asleep, and instead spent a lazy afternoon reclining in Errol’s arms, who fell fast asleep in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. While they lazed about the cool, breezy back, Howie sat in the driver’s seat and went over his Spellbook which was always a sight to behold. Most Spellslingers carried around a thick hardcover, something large and durable enough to hold all the notes they’d jot down over a lifetime of study, but Howie had himself a little pocket notebook, one that fit nicely in the palm of his hand. Kept it in his duster pocket and read it out in the open, unconcerned that anyone might steal or read it, because even if they did, what little notes he had were written in Qinese. While the numbers were all the same, the notation was entirely alien, but Howie was able to translate it with relative ease, which only further demonstrated just how frightening his understanding of arcana truly was.

Didn’t make him a good teacher though, and Sarah Jay suspected it was largely because everything came too easily to him, and he couldn’t understand why it wasn’t the same for everyone else. When it came to the raw mathematics of Spell Formulas, Howie’s explanations were spot on, but things fell apart once you moved on to concepts that numbers couldn’t quantify, like the actual shaping of the Spell Structures.

“What do you mean why does it spiral?” Howie had asked, tilting his head while pointing at the number Sarah Jay had just calculated. “The pattern’s right there. 987, 1597, 2584, all numbers in the Fibonacci sequence, so the rest should be obvious.”

Except it wasn’t, because those weren’t three separate numbers, but the result of a single calculation which resulted in an answer of 98,715,972.584. Then there was the added difficulty of taking those numbers and using them to form a hyperbolic spiral with the correct curve, which required another formula that Howie claimed to have forgotten to put in his notes, but Sarah Jay was all but certain he’d left it out because he thought she’d intuitively know to use it. That’s why Howie’s Spellbook was so small and thin; because he had most of the necessary information already memorized, or was so familiar with the concepts he could derive the necessary formulas on the fly.

It was one of many reasons why Howie’s image didn’t quite live up to his reputation. All the ways in which he stood out were subtle and difficult to understand, like how quickly and easily he memorized new Spells. Didn’t look like much, just a young man sitting there counting his fingers, but he was solving a mathematical formula in his head and drawing the Spell Structure as he went, instead of jotting it all down on paper, graphing the resulting function, and tracking his progress as he went. He could draw four-dimensional constructs in his mind like it was nothing, able to translate numbers into multiple paths and timings on the fly as easily as a pianist reads notes off a sheet, an act that seemed more magical than any Spell could ever be.

Amazing is what it was, but in a subtle sort of way, a facet of his reputation only those who really knew him could wholly understand and appreciate.

Time flew by until it was about an hour or so before sunset, when Howie hopped out to cook another meal, more canned foods but with the addition of some pasta and pesto sauce. Once they were done eating, he washed up and announced, “It’s go time.” Meant it too, right then and there, tasking Errol and Sarah Jay with closing up the wagon as he saddled sweet Winnie for reasons unknown. Despite grumbling about being no horseman, he looked right proper as he hoisted himself up into the saddle, his posture every bit as good as Errol’s as they set out into the desert. “From here on out,” he said, addressing the both of them from the side, “I’m gonna be riding out ahead.” The words made Sarah Jay’s stomach do a little flip, even though she’d been expecting as much, since what use was a scout who stuck close to the wagon? “I won’t be far,” Howie continued, mostly to assure them while making no big deal of it for the same reason, “But I won’t be back until morning unless I find something. As for the two of you, all you need to do is sit tight and relax with weapons close to hand.”

Taking her place up front, Sarah Jay took the 3-Line off the mount and checked it to make sure it was loaded and ready. Was nice having the hefty rifle in hand again, and back in the wagon, Errol had his El-Minister ready and waiting, all polished and pretty as can be. Seeing their nervous expressions, Howie smiled and said, “No need to clutch them all night. If anything dangerous pops up, you’ll either have plenty of time to go weapon’s ready, or if not, you’re better off using your sidearms. Silenced guns only unless you got no other choice though, so keep the Whumper and the 45 holstered, got it?” Sarah Jay nodded, and she presumed Errol did too before Howie added, “So yea. Stay in the wagon and don’t make no noise while we out there. Be ready, but relaxed, and if I don’t get back before the shooting starts, just remember to prioritize your safety and adhere to your firing lanes no matter what. Got it?” Once they both nodded, Howie patted Cowie on the head as he passed and said, “Look after the kids while I’m gone, partner.”

And with one last cheeky grin, Howie donned his googles and kerchief before setting off across the desert sands, riding fast and easy atop Winnie whose long legs covered ground faster than Sarah Jay thought possible. Silently too, her hooves whisper quiet as she galloped over a dune with fangs bared and mane blowing in the breeze. Stopping at the peak, she paused just beneath the red setting sun in the honey gold skies while her rider turned around to tip his hat, before horse and rider both disappeared into the desert.

Wasn’t nothing he could do about his Qin features, but from a distance, there was no mistaking Howie for anything but the all-American cowboy he was.

Once he was out of sight, the world grew larger even as the darkness closed around Sarah Jay, and she found herself beset by doubts and questions. Stay in the wagon? What if they were approached by strangers or worse, attacked by outlaws? What if they stepped into one of those magical traps, something Howie might’ve missed on his way out? What if they heard fighting in the distance? Or a call came in over the radio? Where even was his radio? She knew it existed, since he talked about having one, but she didn’t have the first clue as to how to work it, or the big honking gun he had strapped to the roof. Seemed like that would be useful to know, but Howie was gone and it was too late to ask. Did Cowie know how to use the Big Stick? No, that’d be ridiculous. Then again, Howie was the sort of man to try and weaponize everything, so it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to think he’d arm his bull using some sort of crazy, cutting-edge arcana-tech, like whatever Chrissy used to change pictures with a wave of her hand.

Yesterday, she thought the desert beautiful and luminous, a pretty landscape illuminated by the night’s sky. Though nothing had physically changed as far as she could see, her surroundings seemed more ominous and foreboding. That sandy dune might well be concealing the movements a goblin warband, while the grove of spindly trees could be the lair of some magical beast, yet Cowie trotted ever onwards without a care in the world. Moved at a steady clip in a twisty path, curving this way and that with his eyes fixed on something over the horizon.

Went like that for hours until sheer boredom took the edge off Sarah Jay’s nerves and left her struggling to stay awake. Howie wasn’t kidding when he said this would be tiring, and she couldn’t even look back to trade silent glances with Errol since she couldn’t find him in the dark interior. He could probably see her though, outlined by the night’s sky as it were, and the thought made her sit up straighter so as not to appear scared and uncertain. To keep her mind focused, she checked her weapons again, the Squire, the 3-Line, and the Szass and Tam 45. Then she double checked her clips, magazines, and loose ammunition, before readjusting the straps to her armoured vest and taking inventory of her component’s pouch by touch. A vial of glowhopper legs, various grass clippings, a flintstone, a paper envelope filled with phosphorus, and more, everything she needed to cast the Cantrips and Spells available to her.

“Hey. It’s Howie.” The whisper came out of nowhere, and Sarah Jay almost threw her component’s pouch into the air. Didn’t matter which way she looked, she didn’t see no rider or horse. “I’m climbing up front, okay?”

The ‘don’t shoot me’ was implied, and Sarah Jay had to bite back a scathing retort. Was her fault for not paying enough attention, but Howie was a right stealthy sort as he moved up from her blindspot and clambered over into the driver’s seat. Tying Winnie’s reins to keep her from running off, he turned and gave her grin that showed off the whites of his teeth. “Found us a target,” he said, and her heart skipped a beat. “Big group of gobbos, maybe sixty strong. Perfect opportunity really, as they all bogged down with their catch and moving real slow.” Lifting the goggles off his head, he wiped them with a clean handkerchief and pressed them into her hands. “Put those on.”

Though brimming with questions, Sarah Jay took off her hat and did as instructed, only to stop and gape as soon as the goggles were on. Rather than the dim illumination she’d grown used to, the world around her was clear as day in black and white, or more accurately, varying shades of grey, with every plant and shrub in sight perfectly visible to the naked eye. Turning to look back in the wagon, she found Errol sitting there with his rifle resting against his shoulder, looking all pensive and anxious while running his thumb over the crucifix he wore around his next. Bringing her hand to her lips, she blew him a kiss and smiled as he blinked before catching it with a smile, his nerves melting away with one simple gesture. If only it could be so easy for her as she turned to focus on the dune Howie was pointing out as he outlined the plan he had in mind. “This is your show tonight Jay,” he began, grinning as her stomach turned upside down and inside out. “All you gotta do is…”

Didn’t take long for him to spell it all out, and as simple as it might be, she wasn’t sure she was up to the task. “You got this,” he said, giving her a pat on the shoulder, then before she could raise any questions, he slid into the back of the wagon to join Errol, leaving Sarah Jay all by her lonesome as Cowie crested the dune and brought her into full view of the goblin warband, some two-hundred odd metres away and on course to pass right in front of them. There were dozens of them, all hauling ass across the desert while pulling ropes and sleds carrying a bunch of big dead beasties about. Clever little bastards, assuming they built those contraptions themselves, but word was they died real easy, and the 3-Line was more than enough gun to handle the task at hand.

“Weapons free,” Howie whispered, and that’s all he said, trusting her to do as they planned.

And she did, falling back on her training without any need to think. Grabbing a single blade of white grass from her component’s pouch, she cast her Spell and held it at the ready, then peered through her scope in search of a target, her vision almost clear as day with help from her Darkvision goggles. Found it right quick, a bigger, meaner goblin clubbing other goblins around it and hurrying them along without reprisal. An ugly fellow, with two notched, pointed ears sitting on either side of an angular, oval head and flat face that ended in rounded points at the chin and scalp. It had no hair whatsoever, a pointed nub of a nose, and a mouth full of sharp fangs which would be yellowish in the light of day and sharply contrast with its dark green skin and bloodred irises. Wasn’t particularly large, no bigger than a twelve-year-old at most, yet five of these goblins were strong enough to drag what looked to be about eight-hundred pounds of dead meat at an easy jog. Their fingers would have yellowed claws too, filthy with all sorts of detritus and sharp enough puncture arteries if given the chance. Though they didn’t look like much, she knew that if these sixty-odd goblins got in close, they’d tear them all to pieces, Cowie included.

But right now, she was the hunter, and they were her prey, so she took a deep breath, exhaled, and wished she could cast True Strike to let the magic guide her hand.

Wasn’t necessary though, as her aim struck true, and she felt a little sour over her lacking confidence, as doubt could spoil a shot as readily as shaky hands. Something to work on, but for now, she took a moment to enjoy the echoing crack of the silenced 3-Line which saw every goblin turn its head her way with a guttural cry. Scratch that. Every goblin except one, as her opening shot had blown her target’s head clean off.

“Whoo!” Howie cheered, and Errol sounded off a moment later. “Atta boy, Jay!”

“You got this!”

Then for some strange, inexplicable reason, Cowie let loose with a bellowing moo and ran headlong towards the screaming, charging goblins, leaving Sarah Jay to wonder if it was really alright to let the bull have his way. It was too late for second thoughts now though, so she worked the bolt-action, lined up a second shot, only to miss her second target due to the bumpy ride. She made up for it with the third shot, only to discover there was always time for doubt as a good number of goblins waggled their fingers and unleashed a flurry of Bolts towards them. Most of which seemed aimed directly at Sarah Jay mind you, leaving her wondering if she should’ve questioned Howie just a teensy, tiny bit more beforehand.

“Now,” Howie said, and Sarah Jay unleashed her Spell just a moment before Cowie made a wide 180 to turn them right around. None of the Bolts made it far enough to hit them, fizzling out a good ten or twenty metres short, and Sarah Jay leaned out over the side to look back at her work. Where before, the sand had been empty and pristine, there was now a sizable patch of pale white grasping grass ensnaring most of the goblin hunting party. The grass wrapped around their victims in a neat little spiral, so beautifully curled and evenly spaced it almost looked unnatural, because it was, a working of magic Sarah Jay had unleashed for the first time against a living target.

The Entangle Spell, a First Order staple in any Marksman’s Loadout, and with Howie’s help, it was now part of Sarah Jay’s. No wonder he said the Structure should be obvious, because those spiralling strands of grass embodied the math, perfection made manifest in a way only numbers and magic could accomplish.

The fight was far from won, but this singular exchange proved to her that she was on the right track. She would’ve needed four more months of Basic before even thinking of applying for a Sharpshooter specialization, and she probably wouldn’t have been accepted without field experience. In contrast, now she was out in the desert shooting at live Abby and earning her keep while the other boots were running obstacle courses, learning field drills, and marching off demerits. Yea, riding with the Firstborn was the right decision, the best decision she’d ever made, and she would not give him reason to regret it.

Howie gave her two jobs, hold the Entangle Spell for as long as she could and shoot down any Abby, and by God she would do him proud.