Firstborn of the Frontier

Staring down at his dirty, blood covered sock, Errol couldn’t remember when he’d lost his boot.

These were without a doubt the best boots he’d ever worn. A good, sturdy pair of polished black leather and hard, carbonized steel, they fit like a dream and didn’t leave his feet damp or sore even after a full day of hard marching. Ranger military boots they was, with beautiful stitching so even they could’ve been measured out with a ruler. Best of all, they didn’t cost him a thing. The Rangers were handing them out to everyone who signed on for Basic, theirs to keep at no cost along with three shirts, three pairs of jeans, a leather jacket, and an army cap. He could hardly believe it when he found it all sitting on his cot, the clothes fresh pressed and neatly folded atop some blankets and pillows. Those he couldn’t keep, but they let him leave with the rest even after he washed out. Only now he’d gone and lost a boot, so he had to get it back. The pair was worth at least a few months worth of wages back on the ranch, as even bad boots don’t come cheap. Hell, even if he wanted to buy himself a pair of boots like these, he couldn’t have done it back home. No, he’d have had to take a boat up to one of the towns around Deadlock Bay to find a cobbler good enough to craft something like these, meaning he couldn’t afford to lose them.

“I lost my boot,” Errol announced, but not to anyone in particular. He didn’t do nothing about it neither, just talked about it while letting Howie gently pull him along. “I gotta go back and get it.”

“Don’t you worry about your boot, Errol,” Howie replied, without looking back. He had a real thick Southern accent, thicker even than Sarah Jay’s. Slurred all his words together he did, and put a bouncy rhythm to it too. ‘Don’tchu worry, bout’cher boot’, that’s what Howie sounded like, so dead-on American Errol wasn’t sure if he was faking it to make fun of southerners and their folksy ways. “Got’cher boot right ‘ere.” To prove it, one of Howie’s blue, glowy Mage Hands floated forward a bit to show Errol the boot, all covered in green-black gore. Best wipe that down quick, as Abby blood would leave a nasty stain. He tried to reach for the boot, but Howie wasn’t having none of it, his hand clamped around Errol’s forearm without really feeling like he was holding all that tight. Little dude was stronger than he looked. “In a bit,” Howie said, and his tone brooked no argument. Cocky is what it was, so full of confidence it crossed over into arrogance, like he always knew best. “Let’s get out of the sun first, alright?”

An hour ago, Errol would’ve been amused and annoyed at being ordered around by a pint-sized stick of a boy who didn’t look a day over fifteen, but not anymore. Sarah Jay wasn’t kidding when she said Howie was the real deal. Cold as ice, he was, standing out there in the middle of the street shooting down harpies with a smile, hooting and whooping all the while. Then when the Rangers finally showed up, he laughed and said they was slipping. Rangers! Hardened soldiers and Spellslingers who spent their days hunting Abby and outlaws, and they all laughed along with him!

“Go on and take a seat,” Howie said, guiding Errol over to a bench outside the store and under the awning. “Good man. Here’s your boot.” Errol reached out to take it, but Sarah Jay got to it first, and he noticed she shared a quick and quiet exchange with Howie. It was one of those conversations you have with someone real close. No need for any words, just a look or a grunt or a roll of the eyes. Howie tilted his head to ask how Sarah Jay holding up, and she replied she all good with a nod, then a little tilt of her head to say she was a bit shook. A raised eyebrow from Howie asked if she needed anything, and she shook her head, which earned her an approving nod. That made her sit up real straight as he patted her shoulder and headed on inside.

They seemed awfully close for people who’d never met before today, and Errol wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“You hurt?” It took a long second for him to realize Sarah Jay was talking to him, distracted as he was by how she ran her hands over his chest and under his jacket to check for blood. “Get clipped anywhere?”

“Nah. Rangers looked me once over already.” Sinking back into the bench, Errol felt the tension drain out of him as he watched Sarah Jay fret. She put on a cold front, but she was warm and sweet as fresh baked apple pie, scowling up a storm and daring him to smile as she made sure he had all his bits and pieces in the right place. He was, only awfully tired, and his heart felt like it was trying to hammer its way out of his chest. Once she was sure he wasn’t hurt, she took the pistol outta his hand, which took some doing since Errol’s fingers didn’t seem to be working right. Couldn’t get them to let go, not even after long seconds of staring, but then she kissed his knuckles and they opened right up. Should’ve held on a little longer, because there were no more kisses as she checked his revolver like the good soldier she was. Even emptied out the spent brass into her pocket and reloaded it, before tucking the Squire back into his holster and giving him a sharp pat on the cheek and a smouldering glower to show love and anger both.

No one ever cared for him as much as Sarah Jay, and Errol loved her all the more for it.

Something in his eyes made her blush and smile back, but then she remembered she was supposed to be angry. Turning away in a huff, she conjured up a ball of water to clean the gunk off his boot, but also slid a little closer so they was sitting knee to knee and hip to hip. Not shoulder to shoulder, as he was leaning all the way back while she sat upright, but he couldn’t find the strength to sit up and slip his arm around her shoulder. Moving a hand to Sarah Jay’s back, Errol gently tugged on her vest and pulled her towards him, but she resisted and elbowed his arm away. “None of that now,” she hissed, her dark eyes burning as she glared at him, but a grin was usually enough to calm her down. “We in public, so you keep your hands to yourself mister.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be seen with him, but rather she’d been raised different and felt it wasn’t proper to be seen doing anything besides holding hands. Wasn’t that way back home, as no one’d blink twice at a couple sharing a hug or a kiss, but wasn’t five churches there neither, so Errol figured it was just how things were done here in New Hope. Still… “I don’t see anyone around,” he said, making a show of looking left and right. “So where’s the harm?” The Rangers had already ridden off, thundering down the cobbled street in search of more harpies. Strange seeing this wide, bustling lane so empty and deserted during the day, with everyone heading back inside, even those few gunfighters who stayed out to support Howie, leaving Errol alone with Sarah Jay.

“You sound dumber than a mud fence.” Her pretty glare was still fixed on his face, which meant she was really ticked off, and Errol sat up straight to appease her. “You don’t see no one, but that don’t mean they ain’t there. I bet you every last one of them tinted windows got at least one soul pressed up against it, watching and waiting for the Rangers to give the all clear. Probably all saw your idiot self run out into that mess, instead of standing here and shooting like you should’ve. What were you even thinking, going out there? Firstborn had it handled.”

That got his hackles up, the way she said it like Howie was so much better than him. Didn’t change the facts though. “You’re right,” Errol said, holding his hands up in defense, which prompted another glare from his girl. “My bad. Tinted windows. Didn’t even know that was a thing before coming to New Hope.” Someone told him it was from the Aberrtin mixed in with the sand. Saheed maybe. Made the windows much stronger, but still transparent enough to see through. Sounded expensive, but Errol could see why they’d go the extra mile given the piles of dead Abby lying in the streets. First thing the Rangers told him when he arrived in town was what to do in case of a harpy attack, and Sarah Jay said they get them at least once or twice a year, if not more. Hardly seemed possible in such a clean, orderly, and prosperous place, but having seen firsthand how they handled it, a harpy attack didn’t seem any more disruptive than a sudden rainstorm.

Much as he hated to admit it, Sarah Jay was right. The Firstborn had it handled. Errol had never seen anything like it. Howie just waltzed right out into the middle of the street, cool and calm as can be. Fired off a couple shot to get the flocks’ attention, slung a few Spells, then laughed it all off when it was done. Would’ve been better off without Errol running in, but in his defense, he thought the big-eared Qin was about to be torn apart. If it wasn’t for the Heroism Spell Errol had already cast on himself, he doubt he would’ve had the courage to jump in, but he did and was already moving with a readied Spell in hand before he could think twice. Magical courage, but courage all the same, courage enough to run into that cawing, cackling swarm of ugly, twisted Abby and face down death with both eyes open.

Those horrific, human-like faces with their beady eyes and fanged mouths, so eager and full of hate as they dove towards him like harbingers of hell. Didn’t care if they lived or died so long as they could make him bleed, get a taste of him before they went. Fight barely lasted more than a minute, but how many times did he nearly die? Three? Five? More?

“Errol? What’s wrong hun?” Sarah Jay’s voice cut through the haze, but Errol couldn’t find the breath to answer her. It was all he could do to keep his head up as he leaned forward to face the floor, panting breath and trembling all over. “Hey!” Sarah Jay shouted, banging on the glass window. “Help! We need help!”

The door banged open and Howie sauntered out, his voice as calm and unhurried as ever. “Calm down,” he began, which was the wrong thing to say, as Sarah Jay turned on him in rage.

“Don’t you tell me to calm down! Look at him! Do something!”

“Ain’t nothing to be done.” Sarah Jay’s hand tightened on Errol’s shoulder, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. “Relax,” Howie said, before adding, “Yes Sarah Jay, I’m talking to you. Everything’s fine. Nothing’s wrong. He just got the shakes is all. Totally natural.” Sarah Jay’s grip loosened on Errol’s arm, and switched over to patting his back. Awkwardly at first, but then shifted to warm and tender strokes that did much to calm his nerves. “See? He got his breathing under control already. He gonna be a little light-headed and shaky for a bit, but again, it’s completely normal. Sometimes happens after a big fight, especially ones as short as this.”

There was something about the way Howie talked which Errol found soothing. Firstborn loved to hear his own voice, but he had a real confident tone he used when he was explaining something. The same tone he used to talk about the Aetherarms and weapon safety and such, which he kept friendly and matter of fact without making it sound like he was talking down to you from too far up. “See,” he began, answering a question no one asked, “When you get into a fight, your body preps by giving you a big surge of energy in the form of adrenaline. Thing is, them harpies ain’t got that much fight in ‘em, and they all done died before Errol here could work up a lather. Now he all hopped up on go-juice with nothing to fight, so his body gotta burn off the excess energy with the shakes. Simple biology really. Effect was made worse by using the Heroism Spell, which amps you up even further, making the fall that much worse. If he keeps getting into fights like that, his body will learn and adjust to produce a more realistic amount of adrenaline, and he won’t get the shakes no more.”

“You knew this was going to happen?” Sarah Jay wasn’t pulling no punches, not even against the Firstborn she so admired, and Errol was warmed by the depths of her fierce affection. “And you just left him out here?”

“Didn’t know for certain.” There was an edge to Howie’s tone, which brought to mind the stories that said he was a mean son of a gun who’d beat you bloody for so much as looking at him wrong, but so far Errol hadn’t found that to be true. Sure, he had a smile some might call smug, but he seemed friendly enough, honest and forthright without any dancing around. “Just know it happens sometimes. Why don’t you give him a bit of breathing room and pick out some juice and snacks with Chrissy? All he needs is a bit of time, and he’s gonna have a mighty thirst when he feeling better, so we might as well stock up as long as we here. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him, so go on.”

The silence was almost as deafening as the pounding in Errol’s chest, but eventually Sarah Jay gave in and walked away. Not before giving him one last pat, but he was too dizzy and light-headed to say anything. Once she was gone, Howie plonked down on the bench, but he didn’t pat Errol’s back or nothing. Instead, he made some noise shuffling around and scrounging through his pockets before letting out a long, and tired breath. “Hoo boy,” he said, and Errol could hear the relief as Howie spoke around a piece of candy. “Thought she was fixing to snap me like a twig. That there is one fierce mama bear you done gone and tamed.”

That did it. No longer was Errol struggling to breathe due to tightness in his chest, but because he was laughing so hard he couldn’t keep any air in his lungs. “Ain’t no taming her,” he wheezed, which got a laugh out of the other man. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Well, I can see why you ain’t afraid of no harpies,” Howie said, offering Errol a pink hard candy from his tin. “They ain’t got nothing on Sarah Jay. Don’t tell her I said that though. Already on her bad side as it is. Looked mad enough to tear my arms off and beat me bloody.”

“Nah, she just gets like that sometimes.” After popping the sweet into his mouth, Errol sat upright and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly before continuing. “She got this dark, icy, distant way about her, but she burns hot inside.” Turning to Howie, he met his eyes with a quizzical look and asked, “So adrenaline huh? How much of that was bullshit?”

“None.” Howie was dead serious, not even smiling as he said it, in a tone so neutral he had to be working hard at it. “It happens. I mean it Errol. Even if it is the jitters, getting them after the fight ain’t fear, but stress, and that there is a fact. You’re doing great, much better than expected. This your first big fight?”

Errol nodded. “Back home we’d have Merbeasts come crawling out of the river every now and then. Couple packs of wild Ferals running round the plains too, but they never came right into the village, not in numbers like that.” Gesturing out at the carnage in the streets, Errol tried to guess how many harpies there might be, but the closest he could get was more than fifty and less than a hundred. Tearing his eyes away from the grisly sights, he looked down at his hands and found them shaking again, so he clamped one over the other and tried to still them through sheer force of will. “How’d you learn all that biology stuff?”

“Listening to old folks mostly,” Howie replied, giving a little shrug to match his playful smile. “Gets mighty boring in the months between harpy attacks, so a man’s gotta find something to do.” His roundabout way of saying they were safe and sound, and Errol heaved a little sigh of relief before he even realized it, but Howie pretended not to notice and said, “Boot’s clean as a whistle and dry too.” His way of telling Errol to get it on, which he did, tying up the laces tight they way they’d taught him in Basic. Only seemed prudent, so he did up the laces of his other boot too, and sat up just in time to see Sarah Jay come out of the store with a bag full of groceries and a cup of bapple juice in hand.

Which he drank only after pulling her into his lap, so he could hold her close and bask in the warm comfort of her presence.

She didn’t fight him, only tensed up a bit before melting into his arms. They shared a silent exchange of their own where he told her he was fine and she fussed and fretted about for a few minutes longer to show how much she cared. While she played with his collar and hat, he focused on her scent, a faint fragrance of fruit, flowers, and earthy starch which soothed his nerves as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. Wasn’t much in his life to be thankful for, but Errol would forever be grateful for having met someone as wonderful and loving as Sarah Jay.

“Alrighty then lovebirds,” Howie yelled, his grin only widening as Errol and Sarah Jay both bolted upright. Yea, now that was definitely a smug smile, but he waved them over to the wagon where he and Chrissy were already seated and waiting while Cowie was full-sized, harnessed, and raring to go. “Come on now. Ran into a bit of a speedbump, but we over it now, and even got some snacks to boot. Rangers gave the all clear and daylight’s wasting, so give Anita back her cup and let’s get on down to the range.”

Gotta hand it to Howie, coming out of a fight like that and going back to business as usual. Just another day in the life of the Firstborn is all…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something stuck in Sarah Jay’s craw and she didn’t like the feeling much.

She’d done the Firstborn a disservice, yelling at him like that, but she didn’t know how to make it right. Apologizing would only feel like lip service, but once she and Errol were settled into the back of the wagon, she decided it needed to be done anyways. “Sorry for snapping at you back there,” she said, but Howie simply waved it away.

“Forgiven, forgotten, water under the bridge,” he replied, but he didn’t make any effort to carry on the conversation neither, busying himself with fixing Chrissy’s hat and smoothing her hair instead. Not that it needed fixing mind you, but he loved that girl so, fussing over her to make sure she was happy and comfortable as can be. It was the same way Sarah Jay fussed over Mary Ann and little Jimmy, always worrying about this and that even when everything seemed okay. Said a lot about the Firstborn and the kind of man he was, to hold such pure affection for sweet Chrissy. The Innate was as beautiful as her sister Tina, if not more so thanks to her exotic colouring, her silver plaits so lovingly wrapped in a big red ribbon which Howie had tied into a bow with great care. Then there were her lilac eyes, so breathtaking and haunting at the same time, empty and devoid of visible emotion, though Chrissy’s actions proved her thoughts otherwise. She cuddled Howie’s arm the same way she cuddled Cowie’s head, holding him close for warmth and comfort, and Sarah Jay thought the two of them shared something rare and beautiful, though others might not see it the same way.

Like Errol, who thought Howie was sweet on Chrissy, which couldn’t be further from the truth. There were no hungry eyes or roving hands from the Firstborn, not directed towards Chrissy at least. Sarah Jay had caught Howie peeking at herself once or twice, which only meant he was healthy as any man his age, though she wished he could teach Errol some of that restraint. There was a time and place for canoodling, and the back of a bumpy wagon wasn’t it, so she gave her man a look that promised pain and worse until he moved his hand away from her ass. It wasn’t that she hated it, as she liked herself a game of grab-ass as much as the next gal, but at least she waited until they was alone. Truth be told, after a fright like that harpy attack, she wanted nothing more than to drag him into a room and help work off some of that excess adrenaline the Firstborn had gone on about, but first they had to go to the shooting range.

Later, she promised herself, and Errol too, though not in so many words. Lord help her, but he was a beautiful man, both inside and out, and she could not imagine a life without him.

Needing to distract herself from her innermost thoughts, Sarah Jay leaned out to talk to Howie. “How many harpies you bag?” Looking back on the encounter, her brows furrowed in frustration as she tried to make sense of it all. “Least three dozen by my count. I only got eleven. Ducked down to reload both weapons and by the time I was done, the fight was already over.”

“That’s one with every shot then, which is some mighty fine shooting no matter how you slice it,” Howie replied, giving her a smile and a look where his eyes stayed fixed on hers. Without much effort either, which made him a sweetheart and a gentleman, one who would make some lucky girl happy as a hog in mud. “Was a team effort, so no need to compete. Especially since we don’t get none of the corpses.”

Those all went to the Rangers, who would funnel the funds back into the town, though anyone who helped fend off the harpies would see some cash at least. Sarah Jay wanted to know how much, but Howie seemed wholly unconcerned, not even bothering to raise the question with the Rangers or care about the Ice Knife Spell Core he’d left behind on the streets. Not a popular Spell Core by any measure, or one easy to make use of, but still worth a few dollars at least. “Ain’t competing,” Sarah Jay said, adamant to get an answer out of him. “Just curious how far off my count was, is all.”

Giving her a look that said he wasn’t no fool, Howie silently asked if she really wanted to know. She did, so she nodded ever so slightly, and he shrugged and said, “Forty-nine.” Wasn’t any hesitation in his tone, no pride neither, as he gave a full accounting. “Four shot down long range. fifteen with the Web and first Blast. Six more with the carbine, then seven with the second Blast. Another six with the Rattlesnake and only five with the third Blast, before getting another six with the carbine, and that’s all she wrote.”

“You don’t do things by halves, do you?” A rhetorical question Sarah Jay didn’t expect an answer to, as she worked her way back through the encounter to double check some of those numbers. The fact that he kept track of all that in the midst of shooting, dodging, Spell Slinging, and reloading was almost unbelievable, but if anyone could do it, it was the Firstborn. Was like he had a bead on every harpy in the flock and knew exactly where to go so that they’d get in each others way while trying to attack him, and he didn’t miss a single shot the whole time. Then there were his movements, so smooth and sublime, an effortless dance he might’ve practised a thousand times before rather than the frantic chaos of weaving in and around a jumble of random harpy thrusts. More than once, she watched him hold his shot, not to aim but to reposition so the corpse of his target would smash into another harpy behind it. All the while working his two Mage Hands to reload his weapons on the fly, shooting and Slinging from the hip with a big smile stretched across his face.

Wasn’t no one in Basic who could think, move, and shoot like that. Hell, most Rangers Sarah Jay had seen in action couldn’t match that, and she still hadn’t gotten to Howie’s Spellslinging. Made it look smooth and effortless, the speed and ease with which he chained his Spells, his fingers waggling and lips chanting even while dodging and fighting. Never once did he miss a beat and have to start a Spell over, nor did he ever stop tracking targets and taking them out as he chanted. It was comparable to what Captain Jung had done on the first day of basic, when the matronly Goryeon Evoker sparred with sixteen volunteers all at once. Took her less than a minute to dismantle them boots, using only Bolt Cantrip cast through a Non-lethal Metamagic Focus. Nothing they’d done had even come close to touching her, and Howie didn’t look all that far behind, meaning Sarah Jay had a long ways to go before catching up to the fabled Firstborn.

Okay so maybe she had a bit of a crush on him, but it was more like being starstruck than anything else. Besides, she had Errol now, and that was that.

“That was some nice shooting,” Errol said, unwilling to be left out of the conversation, only to show he was of the same mind as her. “But that Spellslinging was something else.”

“You didn’t do half bad yourself,” Howie replied, turning back to meet Errol’s eyes with a grin. “Enchantment magic is a tricky School, what with how it affects the mind and emotions. Even for a beneficial Spell like Heroism, you gotta account for the target’s natural resistance to being Spelled, but I didn’t feel even a hint of threat or have any desire to resist your magic. Natural as accepting a helping hand, and you cast it on the both of us to boot, which is some impressive Spellslinging. Who taught you how to do that? Because I ain’t gonna lie, I’d love to learn that trick. Ain’t ever been able to consistently cast Heroism on anyone besides Chrissy. Everyone else resists it even if they know what’s coming.”

A common enough problem, but Sarah Jay still swelled with pride to see her man and the Firstborn getting along so well. Errol tried to play it cool and shrug it off, but she could tell he was touched too. “Didn’t no one teach me,” he said, and Howie’s surprise was most satisfying indeed. “Village had a priest, Father Nicholas, and he used to cast the Spell on us while teaching us our letters, like as a reward when we done good. I picked it up from him.”

“Don’t that mean you learned it from the priest?” Howie asked.

“Nah.” Errol shook his head. “Like, I picked it up from him, but he didn’t teach me nothing besides letters. He cast it on me and the others a bunch, and that’s how I learned.”

Sarah Jay sat back to look her man in the eyes, as she herself wasn’t quite sure what he was going on about. “Hang on. How’d you learn Living Whip?”

Shifting in his seat, Errol shrugged and said, “The ranch was right next door to the church. Most of the ranch hands knew the Spell, since they said it was easier than learning how to lasso a horse. Saw them use it almost every day, and just picked it up somewhere along the way.”

“So you learned it by just watching?” Sarah Jay had to be sure. “No math, no numbers, no Formula?”

“Yea.” Errol shrugged. “Told you I don’t know a lot of Spells. Truth is, I’ve never actually learned one any other way.”

“Hun,” Sarah Jay began, her eyes going wide with excitement as she shook her man with barely contained glee. “Do you know what this means?”

“No, and you starting to weird me out girl.”

“It means you’re an Intuitive caster,” she said, annoyed that he wasn’t as excited as she was, but mostly because he didn’t get it. “Alright, look. To cast a Spell manually, you gotta embed a Spell Structure into memory, right? Well, there are three ways to Prepare a Spell like that. The first and most common method is called orthodox or Newtonian Spellcasting, which basically just boils down to math. You get the Spell Formula, plug in the numbers, get some other numbers, and use those numbers to get the timing down pat for the Spell Structure you create.”

“Clean and simple,” Howie piped in, which threw a wrench into Sarah Jay’s head. Most Spell Formulas weren’t even simple to read, much less solve, and here was the Firstborn calling it simple. Then again, maybe for him, it was, considering he started slinging Spells at eleven. Sarah Jay hadn’t started until she was fourteen, and she was supposedly ahead of the curve and on par with talented Tina, as some of the boots in Basic had only just started slinging their first proper Spells just this year.

Putting all that out of her head, Sarah Jay continued her explanation. “The second method to Prepare a Spell is through Attunement. That gets you Innate Spellcasters like Chrissy, who learns her Spell Structures from her bloodline. No Formula or math required, the Structure just shows up in memory like it was always there, or maybe she builds it naturally like knowing how to walk or breathe. Easy to learn, but the downside is you can’t pick and choose what Spells you get. Get dealt a bad hand and you’re permanently stuck with those Spell Structures taking up real estate in your head. Means that even if you learn more Spells the orthodox way, you got limited room to Prep other Spells. Makes you less flexible, since an orthodox caster can tailor their entire Spell list for the occasion, though few actually bother to go to such lengths.”

Howie was nodding along, but Sarah Jay didn’t want to say anymore about Innates, particularly regarding the downsides. Seemed liked it would be a touchy subject, so she focused on Errol and said, “Then there’s you. Intuitive casters are sorta like a mix between the two. You don’t need any Formulas or math, but your Spell Structures don’t pop up outta nowhere. Instead, the way I hear it is that Intuitive casters will resonate with certain Spells and learn the Structures and timings through… feel, I guess? I dunno.” Punching Errol on the shoulder out of excitement, she bounced in place and said, “You’re the first Intuitive Spellcaster I’ve met, so I figure you ought to know better than me.”

Though he feigned a wince at the punch, Errol was already nodding along. “No, you’re right. I mean, I kinda just went with the flow and what felt right, you know, and then the Spell Structure was just… there. Didn’t happen all at once, but I didn’t catch the exact day it appeared neither. One day I just saw the ranch hands at work with their ropes, and thought I could do better, and did.”

“That’s nifty,” Howie said, interrupting Sarah Jay’s moment with Errol, but he couldn’t have known, given how his back was turned. “I gotta ask though, that priest of yours? You ever recall him fumbling the Heroism Spell? You know casting it on someone who resisted it? Usually happens a lot with kids, which is probably why he was casting it on all you. Practice.”

Errol shook his head and said no, but Sarah Jay put all the pieces together a moment later. “Oh! It means you did more than just copy the Spell Structure from the priest. You picked up on how he was getting past everyone’s natural resistance! That’s incredible hun!” Though he smiled along with her, it was clear Errol didn’t get what all the hype was about, so she explained, “If you can Intuitively grasp all the subtle nuances an experienced Spellcaster puts into their Spells, you can benefit from all their months or years of practise. Might not even be limited to one. You could learn how two different people cast a Spell, and apply both to your own casting.”

“Sharp as a tack,” Howie said, and Sarah Jay preened at the compliment.

“I still don’t really get it,” Errol said. “A Spell is a Spell right? I thought it didn’t make any difference who casts it, the effects are always the same. Was told the only thing a caster can really do is put more power into the Spell, upcasting it to a higher Order, but even then, the Spell doesn’t change much.”

Sarah Jay pursed her lips as she thought about how to explain it, but Howie had the answer in hand. “Sort of. The base Heroism Spell ain’t gonna change no matter who casts it. The effect of my Spell and yours would be the same, a boost to courage and a minor Ectoplasmic barrier to shield you from damage. The difference is in the details. Two casters can cast Heroism at the same Spell Level, but maybe one is more focused on bestowing courage to multiple targets, while the other is tailored to create a more effective shield for a single person, differences which arise due to how familiar the individual casters are with the discrete facets of the Spell.” Seeing the blank look on Errol’s face, Howie switched tack right quick, though he had to stop a beat to come up with an explanation. “Think of it like baseball. The pitchers on both teams are throwing the same exact ball, but they don’t do it the same way. Even if their delivery method is the same, the result can change depending on how each pitcher holds the ball. They could throw a fastball, or a curve, or a slider followed by a change up. Still the same ball getting thrown every time, but you can get different variations in speed, trajectory, and whatever depending on how you hold the ball or who throws it.”

“Okay.”

“Another way to look at it,” Sarah Jay began, seeing Errol still didn’t quite get it, “Is the Minor Illusion Cantrip. Remember how we were making pictures, and Tina made a lifelike woolly wallaby and set it to hopping in place? No one else could make anything half as realistic, even though we were all using the same Cantrip.” Errol nodded as he was finally getting it, and Sarah Jay pressed on. “So knowing the Cantrip ain’t enough to make a good illusion, no more than having paint and a brush makes you a good painter. Takes practice to learn how to do it right, the same way it takes effort to make the Heroism Spell feel unintrusive and helpful like how you do. Like Howie said, that ain’t something people get by just knowing the Spell. Some tricks can be taught, but most are learned by doing. Rote repetition, casting the Spell over and over in hopes of gaining a bit of insight on how it works and what you can do to change it.” Giving Errol a knowing look, Sarah Jay concluded, “All of which you could benefit from, if you can Intuit all of that by watching an experienced Spellcaster cast. You could learn how Captain Jung can toss out four Bolts with a single cast, or how Kacey keeps Inari around all the time, or how Marshal Ellis can change the spray pattern of his Flamethrower Spell.”

“Should probably start with the Bolt Cantrip,” Howie said, without turning back to look in. “Easiest one. It’ll be tough convincing Captain Jung to help, but easier than getting Marshal Ellis to teach you Flamethrower. Won’t even teach me. Says it’s against the Geneva Conventions to use against people, and he don’t trust me not to. Which is fair, if I’m being honest, though I’d be more worried about starting a forest fire, what with how Flamethrower comes standard with the Ignite property.” Turning around and trying to look casual about it, Howie asked, “Whose Kacey and what’s an Inari?”

He wasn’t fooling Sarah Jay though, who caught his eye and smiled. Hand to God, he went bright pink with embarrassment, which he well should considering what he’d done. “Kacey’s the up-and-coming Scout prospect,” Sarah Jay said, enjoying the sight of Howie squirming with impatience to know more. “Inari is her summoned fox. Kacey keeps her out all the time, and Inari even acts like a real animal, though I ain’t sure about all the specifics.” She could see he wanted to ask more, but Sarah Jay pretended not to notice and turned back to Errol. “So Bolt Cantrip it is. Doesn’t have to be Captain Jung, as I’m sure there’s others who know the same trick.”

“Mh,” Errol replied, which was neither an agreement or disagreement. “I uh… I don’t know the Bolt Cantrip.” Seeing the surprise on her face, he quickly added, “Wasn’t a lot of shooting back home, but seeing how I couldn’t pick it up after two months of Basic, I doubt I ever will.”

“You can still learn the normal way,” Sarah Jay said, and Howie grunted in agreement, evidently as surprised as she was that there’d be an American who didn’t know the Bolt Cantrip. “I’ll teach you. It ain’t difficult, promise.”

“You best learn it too if you want a place in my crew,” Howie added, and even though he sounded like he was joking, Sarah Jay wasn’t so sure he was. “It’s the last line of defense you got, so you best learn it quick.”

“It really worth it though?” Errol asked, and Sarah Jay almost gasped in shock. “I mean, I’ve seen pistols that are made from just the base Bolt Cantrip Core, with no Metamagics or anything, and they don’t hit hard at all. Know two men who got clipped and walked away, and I’m sure there are more.”

“Still hits two or three times harder than a punch, one you can deliver from up to forty metres away.” From the front, Howie finally turned all the way around to poke his head inside and look Errol dead in the eyes. “Look, practicality aside, the Bolt Cantrip is just plain fun to cast. You can sit there for hours on end just throwing Bolts up into the sky, and you ain’t ever gonna get bored or tired. Seriously, just wait till you try it, you gonna wonder how you ever lived without it.” Turning back towards the front, he raised his voice and said, “Then there’s the historical aspect of the Spell itself. The Spell that won the West, that’s what they called it. See, back in the early sixteen hundreds, there weren’t no Cantrips around. Then Sir Issac Newton himself came along and…”

Settling in next to Errol, Sarah Jay rested her chin on his shoulder and smiled as he rolled his eyes and listened to Howie wax poetic about old world history. For awhile, things seemed dark, what with Errol getting kicked out of boot and her dropping out alongside him, but it all worked out for the better. She wasn’t under no illusions; riding with the Firstborn would be dangerous, and they were leagues behind him, but even a third of Ranger wages was decent pay, and a 10% share of bounties and Abby could net them a good chunk of cash right quick. That was much better than going through another four months of Basic and hoping the Rangers hired her on. That was never guaranteed, nor was her posting, but now, she’d most certainly be based out of New Hope. All she needed now was enough cash to rent a place in town, and then she could go back for Mary Ann and little Jimmy. “Soon,” she promised silently, though she knew there was no way they would ever hear her. “Won’t be long now.”

She only hoped it would be in time.