I never should’ve taken first watch.

  For two reasons really, the first of which ain’t much of a reason at all. To start, it meant having to bunk down with Chrissy and Tina for a quick Catnap before going on watch, since I done used up most of my daily Spellslinging quota in the fight. 2 Fireballs and a Third Order Mage Hands is 3 quarters of what I got, and the rest I done spent on Mage Armour and Longstrider for me and the horses respectively. Hence, the need for a Catnap, which is an incredible Third Order Spell that only gets better when cast on a more powerful Spellslinger.

  Right out the gate, it’s a top tier Enchantment Spell. In exchange for a 10-minute power nap, you get to supercharge the Aether batteries of 3 willing targets up to 25% a piece. One of which can be the caster themselves, meaning that so long as they’re capable of slinging 4 Third Order Spells a day, then the first Catnap is pretty much free to cast on 2 other targets. You spend 25% of your daily Spell limit to recharge 25% of your daily Spell limit, and it only gets better the more powerful you are. Soon as you got the chops to sling 5 Third Order Spells a day, you’re getting back the cost of your Catnap plus a bit extra on top, almost enough to sling an extra First Order Spell. Don’t seem like much, but keep in mind you’re charging two allies at the same time, so any benefit to the caster is just the gravy on top.

  That’s at base values mind you, making Catnap an essential tool in the Supporter’s toolbox, and Chrissy a huge asset when it comes to training up my Spellslinging abilities. The more Spells I sling a day, the faster my limits will grow, which is why in years past, we’d often have ourselves a cozy afternoon Catnap almost every day after my morning training when I was in town. Usually in the living room while Aunty Ray was cooking up dinner in the kitchen, or sometimes out on the wally ranch while they curled up around us. Never in bed, and never lying down next to one another, because we was both 15 when she came into the Spell, and far too old to be sharing a bed together.

  There are limits to the Spell of course. You can only benefit from the full effect of Catnap once, so getting hit by 2 Catnaps in a row won’t bring you up to 50%. The two combined will give you more than 25% of your daily limits back, but not much more, and not enough to make it worth the second go around. It’ll stay that way until you get yourself a solid 6-8 hours sleep too, and I’m sure there are some eggheads out there that can tell you why, but all I know is that’s how it is, so that’s how it’s gonna be. It’s also next to impossible to use offensively, because while the Spell makes you drowsy enough to sink into sleep, it’s fairly easy to resist the temptation, or even accidentally if you all hopped up on adrenaline. That’s because this here is a Spell tailor made by Proggies for its Synapse Abby to use, as they can hit far more than 3 targets and supercharge whole hit-squads of elite Abby with all sorts of nasty Spells at their disposal. As such, there’s little to no thought put into the offensive aspects of the Spell, but that don’t take away from how useful it be.

  I got no issue with the Spell itself of course. Nor do I have any issue with Chrissy’s demands, as she refuses to cast Catnap unless we all snuggled up together. Me, her, and Tina all packed in the wagon together, with me in the middle and the sisters on each side, with the added caveat of requiring a bedtime story before she’s ready to hit us with the sleep-time whammy Spell. This much, I don’t mind, because Chrissy’s a sweet soul and deserves all the happiness in the world, and I don’t mind a quick little cuddle, especially if it gets me another Fireball or equivalent Spell to sling while I take first watch.

  My real issue is with the sleeping arrangements, because no matter which way you swing it, I’m either sleeping in between Tina and Chrissy, or Aunty Ray and Chrissy, and neither pairing is ideal. All three could do with a lesson in boundaries when it comes to bunking down next to the opposite gender. Despite the wagon’s non-existent insulation and the cold, December temperatures, neither one of my sorta sisters care to sleep tucked up in their bedrolls. Instead, they sleep with their arms out while using their new cloaks as blankets, which to be fair is probably plenty more comfortable than being all rolled up snug as a bug in a what is essentially a big leather pocket.

  Problem is, Tina and Chrissy are both about as clingy as a tick on a horse’s rear, wrapping their arms all around me as they sleep, and Aunty Ray is even worse. She got a grip like a vise, and hugs me so tight in her sleep it’s as if she’s worried I’ll drift off into the night skies if left untethered. As for Chrissy, she’s real particular about how she sleeps, insisting on using my shoulder as a pillow and holding my prosthetic hand to sleep. If it wasn’t for the bedroll, I’m pretty sure she’d kick her legs over me too instead of making do with just the one knee, but at least I got that much to protect my dignity.

  I know, I know, y’all are crying big old crocodile tears for Howie. Woe is me, having to sleep between two objectively gorgeous ladies. How terrible, right? I know there are men who’d kill to take my place, but they ain’t me. They wasn’t raised by one of those women, or raised to protect the others, so don’t no one understand how awkward and embarrassing this is for me, to be cuddled like a teddy bear while my raging hormones run rampant and go utterly unchecked.

  Course, that’s only half the issue, one I can weather well enough so long as they don’t tell no one about any of this, because if they did, I’d die of sheer embarrassment. I get enough comments about being a redneck Qink, I don’t need to be adding fuel to those fires with any ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ hijinks.

  It's the other bit that bothers me more, the waking up naturally like this. Ain’t a problem when I’m on third watch, because Aunty Ray wakes me and I’m up and out of the wagon before my brain done fully kicks into gear. Here and now though? My brain gets to slowly work its way out of its funk and sort itself out, which is all sorts of terrible. See, I know Aunty Ray and Chrissy are off limits, because they family, but my morning brain don’t register all that. It just knows I’m next to two lovely ladies who both smell fresh as daisy, and my body has been recently conditioned to react in a certain way under just such a situation. That there is bad enough, getting all hot and bothered while waking up next to family, but then there’s also the kick in the gut when I realize it ain’t Noora and Josie sleeping there beside me.

  Even though the breakup with Noora is fresher and more recent, it still hurts more to lose Josie again. Can’t help but remember the look of surprise in her big, brown doe eyes as she stood there in the streets, how the light faded away mere moments after the Ice Knife hit. It’s been almost 5 whole months now, and it hurts more than ever, because I done all that I could to avenge her death and it only made things worse. I’m more alone than ever these days, having to add the sad, puppy-dog look Noora gave when she broke up with me, and the reminder of what I’ve lost hits all the harder in the here and now.

  The worst part? Trapped in the closed confines of my wagon, I can’t even raise a hand to cover my eyes and hide the tears forming up inside them.

  Can’t cry though, not in front of family, not again. Can’t even heave a sigh for fear of waking either one of them, because then they’ll see me fighting to hold back my tears and that’s almost as bad as outright crying. Ain’t nothing for me to do but suck it up and move on, but that’s easier said than done, so I lay there in the darkness and choke on my sorrow in still silence while wishing life had turned out almost any other way.

  I wish I could’ve kept Josie safe. I wish I could’ve made Noora happy. I wish I never disappointed Uncle Teddy, never failed Marcus, never let my daddy walk into an ambush without so much as a whisper of warning. Ain’t no cure for regret though, so I gotta live with my mistakes, because to do otherwise would deny me the infinitesimal hope I still have left, that some day, I’ll see Josie, our baby, and my daddy in Heaven again, along with Marcus, Darren, Uncle Raleigh, and anyone else I’ve lost along the way.

  Yeah, I ain’t taking first watch again, not if I can help it. Mornings are difficult enough, finding reason to get up and get out instead of staying in to mope and cope, but here and now, I gotta keep my sorrows in check without moving so much as an inch.

  Luckily for me, Chrissy gives me plenty of warning as she stirs awake. The first thing she does is take a deep breath before nuzzling in close, burying her face into my shoulder while stretching her legs inside her bedroll. Soon as she’s all stretched out, she goes completely limp and sinks in beside me with a long, quiet sigh, one so utterly relaxed and tranquil you’d think she was sleeping on a warm down bed with soft cotton sheets. One safe and sound behind tall stone walls with plenty of guns and Spellslingers to protect her too, not on the edge of the badlands and about to trek to where few settlers have ever gone before. That’s Chrissy though, always living in her own world which seems so much more pleasant than the real world.

  “Mornin’ Chrissy,” I whisper, quiet as can be so as not to spook her, but despite my efforts, her head darts up in muted alarm before settling down on her unused pillow beside me. “You sleep well?”

  Takes her a moment to respond as she’ s still recovering from her shock. “Morning Howie,” she whispers, and her customary monotone makes her sound timid as can be. Add in her lack of expression, and I can understand why some think her frosty, but just because she doesn’t smile, pout, or frown don’t mean she’s impossible to read. Though sleepy and blinking, her pale violet eyes are clear and steady, fixed on my shoulder to avoid direct eye contact while still focusing on my face. Shows that she’s in the here and now, rather than off in la-la land, while the slackness in her cheeks, brow, and shoulders say she’s feeling lighthearted and cheery. There’s a lot more to it, but the most direct indication of her mood is how she leans in to bury her face against my shoulder, hugging me oh so tight with her one free hand that’s still clutching my prosthetic. “Good sleep. Happy.”

  Follows it up with a soft sigh of contentment, and just knowing how much she’s loving this trip gives me strength enough to swallow my dark thoughts and push them back down into my belly. “Glad to hear it,” I reply, tilting my head to rest against hers with a small smile on my face. “You enjoying the trip?” She pauses, then nods without lifting her head, because she’s lying so I won’t worry about her. “You ain’t bored sittin’ on the wagon all day?” She shakes her head again, a little slower because she’s falling back asleep, so I keep talking since it’s almost time to get up. “Were you scared during the fight?” She shakes her head a third time, then pauses before giving a tiny little nod to admit she was afraid, and my heart melts to see it.

  This here? This is what most people would never see, the side of Chrissy that ain’t no different from anyone else. They see her silver hair, violet eyes, distant stare, and emotionless expression, so they think she’s cold, haughty, or touched in the head, but she’s just a girlie same as any other. Granted, one who acts more girlish than her seventeen years. Ain’t a new problem, as we call her Princess for good reason, and not even a bad one. I seen grown ass adults acting more childish than she has in years, so I wouldn’t say she got any real developmental issues. It’s a communication one, as signals tend to get mixed up between her brain and face, while she also struggles to parse all the information her eyes and other senses take in.

  Least, that’s what we think, but not like Chrissy can come out and confirm it for us. She don’t know how to explain what she perceives different, because she don’t know what others can’t perceive. It’s all normal to her, so how’s she supposed to tell us what ain’t normal?

  Makes it all the more important to communicate everything clearly, so I take a moment to be sure Chrissy knows what to do in an emergency. “Ain’t no need to be scared,” I say, patting her back as she snuggles in close again, even throwing her knees over my legs as much as she can with her bedroll getting in the way. “You just gotta remember two things. First off, if you hear gunshots, then you take cover in here. Sit yourself in the corner above your head, hang onto the handrails tight, and stay quiet until me, Tina, or your mama comes to get you. Got it?”

  Chrissy nods, with a sulky cast to her shoulders that would pair with a pout on any face besides hers, but I ain’t done just yet. “For this second thing, I need you to look at me while I talk, okay Chrissy?” To make sure she ain’t drifting off to sleep and only nodding when she hears me ask something, but she’s all soft eyed and attentive when she straightens up and shows her face, half covered by her long, silver locks. Though a bit moody, she’s taking this talk seriously and pays as much attention as I can expect, so I put on my game face and tell her, “If you hidin’ in here during a fight, and you see anyone or anything else, then you go and hit them with everythin’ you got. Don’t matter if they Abby, outlaw, or even a Ranger with a badge. You don’t hesitate and you hit them hard as you can. Understand?”

  Chrissy blinks and takes a moment to make sense of my instructions, which is good since it shows she’s taking this serious. “Big Spell?” she asks, wanting to clarify because Aunty Ray done told her never to use her Big Spell against anyone. Can’t fault her for it though. As far as Big Spell’s go, Chrissy’s is a real doozy, one that makes up for Catnap being a full-on support Spell and then some.

  “Big Spell,” I reply, nodding all serious as the grave. “Just… be sure it ain’t me, Tina, or your mama before you let loose.”

  “Okay Howie.” Though her expression never changes, I can tell she’s feeling blue about all this, so I squeeze her shoulder three times to let her know I love her. Usually, she squeezes right back, but for some reason, she doesn’t this time around, so I wait in silence for about half a minute before trying again. Just in case she missed the first, but again, I got no response, which I gotta say kinda sucks. Least it does until I remember she’s still clutching my Automaton prosthetic, so I go ahead and squeeze her shoulder again while looking down at her hand where her pale fingers are interlaced with my wooden ones. Sure enough, she squeezes the prosthetic right quick in reply, and I can’t help but smile to see it.

  “Silly goose,” I say, holding up my wooden hand while she’s still holding it. Not as easy to do with Aunty Ray clutching that same arm tight, but I manage well enough. “Chrissy, I can’t feel nothing in this hand. It ain’t set up for it.” Guess she saw the fingers moving and Aether flowing and figured it did everything a real hand could, including convey tactile sensation. I mean, technically, it can feel pressure, as it got sensors for it, but aside from being turned off for the night, I don’t got it set up to alert me to changes in pressure. Danny mentioned how it’s bad to have the Automaton send signals directly to the brain, but he also said something about haptic feedback, like having the Automaton vibrate or give off some other sort of tactile sensation to get around that sorta limitation.

  “…Oh.” Feeling embarrassed and a little playful to boot, Chrissy unentangles her hand and reaches up to give my cheeks a soft triple pinch before coming back in for a cuddle. Heaving another soft sigh, she nuzzles in close and sinks down to enjoy the moment, which leaves me feeling all kinds of conflicted. She always been a hugger, but she’s been a whole lot clingier of late on account of my long absences. Ain’t like before where I’d travel a few weeks then come home for a couple days before disappearing again. Nowadays, we’re lucky to spend a few hours together every month, if that, so she’s been making the most of our time together. Can’t say I hate it, because she’s my sweet sorta-sister, one who I can love and spoil with all my heart because she ain’t looking to make her name as a Ranger out on the Frontier.

  And on that note, I really ought to head out and check on Tina, because as well as she performed in yesterday’s fight, there’s still plenty of room for improvement. Getting free of Aunty Ray’s death grip ain’t easy, and Chrissy ain’t pleased to watch me go, copying her mama by refusing to let go. Rather than force my arm out of her grip, I placate her with promise to bring her horseback riding later around lunch. Assuming things are looking safe enough of course, which you can never take for granted out in the badlands, not even while we got the watchtowers providing surveillance and possible support.

  Which we won’t for much longer, as we’ll be moving past the second and third line today, then we’ll be all on our own come nightfall some 20 klicks away from the nearest help. The third and final line of watchtowers will have proper Rangers stationed there, but the juiced up Aetheric dynamos in them towers can only provide about 15 klicks of range to their Radios, which is why they can’t be too far apart. The Marshal tried putting in repeaters or laying wire for better range of transmission, but Abby kept tearing things up and bringing it all back to their Proggie to eat and investigate. The Rangers are stretched thin holding back the badlands as it is, with monthly patrols sent out to burn pedipalps and scatter scavenging Abby like we done just yesterday, but it’s a thankless job no different from playing whack-a-mole at the carnival. You take down one pedipalp patch, and Abby will seed a new one a stone’s throw away, burying them shed tentacle saplings beneath the dirt to grow big and strong unseen.

  Hence why that patch was left untouched for us to handle. Ain’t because the Rangers don’t know its there, but rather because it ain’t big enough for them to bother with. They prefer to let Abby invest more time and effort into the patch before tearing it all down, including the goop pits down under dark which we left intact. My daddy warned me to never venture down no bug tunnel in the badlands, not without a Ranger Strike team supporting me. He lived by those same rules too, so I’d be a fool to break it, especially with Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray’s lives on the line.

  Forget behemoths. Down under dark in those cramped twisting tunnels, even a basic Drone would be hard to handle if it manages to get in close, and where there’s one Drone, there’s always 9 more since they never do nothing by their lonesome.

  Once out of the wagon, I have myself a long stretch and get to cracking all the bones I can, feeling downright stressed after that morning torment. Relegated to sleeping under the wagon, Cowie pokes his baby head out and gives a mournful little moo, playing the part of lonely calf angling to get a bunk inside. Much as I love cuddling him to sleep, he prefers cuddling with Chrissy so I’d be relegated to sleeping with four hooves in my side. More to the point, Tina would too, since she takes my place in the centre when I’m on watch duty, and she’s too sweet to say anything about Cowie getting in the way of her beauty sleep.

  She’ll learn soon enough how to fall asleep on command, preferable without any magical aid. Catnap don’t wake you automatically after 10 minutes, as you can keep right on sleeping normally after the Spell ends, but that sort of deep sleep ain’t always safe out in the field, which is why we didn’t use it under dark back in Pleasant Dunes. Well, that and I don’t think anyone present actually knew the Spell, as it’s a right pain to learn proper. The real issue is that I can’t have Tina being all tired and listless for her first trip through the badlands, so I been coddling her a fair bit.

  Because Sergeant Begaye was right. What Tina needs now more than anything is confidence. She was so down and out about her performance yesterday, instead of celebrating how she done gunned down most of a hoard using her semi-automatic handguns. All while firing from the hip with her Shield up mind you, though I reckon I ought to shift the Spell Core’s position about a handspan to the left. It’d expose her right shoulder to enemy shooters, but give her a better arc of fire while aiming down sights without having to physically move to shoot something just to her left.

  With that in mind, I glance around and find Tina making a slow circuit around camp, with her shades on and eyes fixed on the horizon. Got her Merlin 45 in hand and ready to shoot as she steps easy around the rough and uneven ground, but there’s something about what I see that throws me for a loop. Can’t quite place what it is either, not at first glance. She got her cloak hood up too instead of her brown leather Stetson, the twin to mine up top of my head, but that’s only to be expected. She been out here for hours now, so why not throw the hood up to stay warm? Me, I got a beanie I keep in my duster pocket, and I throw it on under my Stetson soon as I remember to, all while trying to puzzle out what it is about Tina that’s got me out of sorts.

  Ain’t the way she walks, with her customary bouncing gait, one she doesn’t even realize she uses most of the time. It’s the toe walking that does it, propelling herself with mainly with her calf muscles instead of her quads. Not as good for long marches under full load, nor is it quiet or efficient, but it does let her move about right quick in a pinch, not to mention pivot, shuffle, and side step on a dime while dancing all about her foes. She can run circles around most opponents, and can switch gaits well enough when necessary, so there ain’t no need to correct her there.

  It's not the route she takes either, sticking close to cover wherever possible and pausing to scan her surroundings at intermittent intervals. Never stops for long and doesn’t fall into an obvious pattern either, mostly to make things harder for a sniper lying in wait. Doesn’t make much noise, or have any bright lights flashing, and doesn’t stop to identify every shadow and outline she sees. Stays low to avoid being backlit by the rising sun, and keeps moving to maintain awareness at all times. Appears calm, cool, and collected, not at all jumpy or listless as you might expect, acting like an old hand rather than the fresh recruit she is, and I couldn’t be any prouder.

  And yet, there’s still something off about what I see, and it takes me a hot minute to figure out what. Her boots ain’t leaving any prints in the parched, pale dirt, nor do her footsteps throw up any dust. I picked this campsite not just because it’s easily defended, but also because it once housed a pedipalp patch which me and my daddy burned down. Not soon enough though, because them mouthy tentacles done leeched out anything and everything a person or plant might ever need, leaving the soil loose and dry as can be. This right here is the future of the Frontier should Proggies have their way, turning this beautiful world into a dry, barren wasteland in which nothing can live, nothing besides Proggies and Abby at least.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  More importantly, here in the badlands, every step you take is gonna throw up a small cloud of dust, because there ain’t no moisture or roots holding it down. Tina though? She’s moving about clean and dust-free, which sets off alarms in my head. Not loud, scary ones, just quiet ones that tell me something is off, and the rest is easy enough to figure out.

  Most people don’t understand Illusions all that well, but growing up next door to a family of Enchanters and Illusionists has given me a fair appreciation for both schools of magic. Lot of folks think Illusions are a trick of the light, a projected, three-dimensional image you can walk up to and put your hand through. Not saying you can’t do that to an Illusion, but it ain’t actually light. The trick is in your mind, which is why Record Video and Photograph can’t capture Illusions on crystal. There’s nothing for them Spells to see, since they use light to record what’s in front of the Spell Core or the Caster’s eyes, as opposed to taking images directly from the caster’s mind.

  The reason for this is because Record Video was made so Abby could head out on patrol and show everything they done seen to their Proggies. Problem is, not all Abby got good vision, and most actually have terrible vision, because visual acuity ain’t all that necessary for fighting or collecting biomass. They ain’t built to use weapons like humans are, and while gobbos are known to make use of slings, bows, crossbows, and catapults, they mostly just copying what the seen humans do and their aim is actually atrocious.

  That’s why Record Video don’t utilize the caster’s senses, and works using light instead. As for the Photograph Cantrip, it was designed based off the Record Video Spell, so of course, so it functions off the same principles. For the same reason, Illusions that would create a 3-D projected image wouldn’t actually be all that useful for deceiving Abby. They got terrible vision, so any Spell relying on the target seeing them would be next to useless, not to mention how Abby don’t care much about what they killing or collecting. If it ain’t friendly, then it’s fair game, as evidenced by how them greenies in the Serpent’s Fang Mountain Range are feuding with the Bug Swarms of the Divide.

  Fact is, Proggies don’t see humans as the real threat on this or any other world. No, their biggest competition is each other, and they group up in clusters to outcompete the others before they even have yet to conquer the world. That’s why Illusions are tailor made to fool Abby senses, because that’s their ultimate opponent, and Proggies just never bothered revising their Spells to use against humans since they just see us as slightly more dangerous fodder.

  Hence why Illusions are so difficult for most people to understand. They ain’t meant for us, but we’ve made use of them all the same. Rather than an image in space, an Illusion is actually a projection of an Aetheric field, one that got nothing to do with light and everything to do with perception, similar to that warning I sensed down in the mines of Pleasant Dunes. Anyone using their senses to interact with the Aetheric field falls into the Illusion, which can fool them into thinking they can see, smell, hear, taste, and feel whatever it is the caster desires.

  How’s that work? No idea. Probably something to do with Spirit, same as Enchantments, which is why the two Schools often go hand in hand. The devil’s in the details though, because the more complex the Illusion, the more details you gotta account for. A rock only has to look, feel, smell, and I suppose taste like a rock, 4 things you can cement down real easy, and truth is, you could probably get away with only two of the four. An Illusion of a person walking a circuit around camp though? There are countless details to get right, from the bounce of her gait to how her cloak ought to sway as she moves, and yes, the dust her boots should be throwing up with every step she takes. The more I investigate, the more discrepancies I see, like how all her hair stays nestled within her cloak because getting hair to move right is a difficult task even for an experienced Illusionist like her. There’s also the complete lack of sound, which is to be expected since she supposed to be stealthy and quiet, but I ought to catch a faint tap or scrape every now and then as I approach, except I don’t hear nothing until I’m almost stood right next to the Illusion.

  Which turns to face me and gives a little wave to boot, but I pay no mind to Tina’s Echo and stare off at a patch of dark shadows about 5 meters behind it. “You know you’d show up clear as day to anyone using Darkvision right?” I ask, faintly amused by her attempt to fool me with her newfangled Ability. The Echo does a fair impression of my sorta-sister, puffing her cheeks and glaring at me hard with her clear baby blues. Course, the Echo is more than just an Illusion, as it got some substance to it too, making it a mix of Illusion and Conjuration, but more the former and less of the latter. I could reach out and pinch its cheeks, but it’d likely fall apart if I pinched too hard, which is not something I care to see this early in the day.

  So I reserve the cheek pinch for the real thing as Tina stalks out of her Minor Illusion with a pout. “How’d you know?” she asks, keeping her voice low so as not to carry, but tone hard and challenging all the same despite the undignified appearance of her cheek between my fingers. “You ain’t wearin’ your goggles, and I done made sure every last detail is right. Even down to the fur on the cloak, which wasn’t easy mind you. Lovely as can be, but plain leather would’ve been easier to replicate, not that I’m complainin’.”

  She is, but I let it slide, because she’d complain even more if I got her a plain cloak while Chrissy and Aunty Ray got fancy furred ones. “No dust from the boots,” I say, marvelling once more at how different Tina is compared to sweet and silly Chrissy. They both my sorta sisters, and I love them equally, even though I gotta be a bit harder on Tina if only to toughen her up. Which is why I go on to list everything I noticed wrong about her Echo, up to and including the lack of frosty air coming out of her Echo’s mouth. “Gotta get up earlier than that to pull one over on me,” I conclude, grinning up a storm to match Tina’s stormy pout, one that’s getting darker with each passing moment.

  Too late, I realize that even though this was all in good humour, she’s taking it extra serious, because she was expecting to use her Echo as bait should any sniper or pouncing Abby be lying in wait. Too late to spare her feelings, I pivot all the same and give her an encouraging pat on the arm, a single firm slap that don’t do much besides earn me a dark look. “Smart move though, using the Echo like that,” I say, far too committed to pull back now. “I think it even smells a little like you, though you might want to ease off the perfume out here.”

  “I ain’t wearing perfume,” Tina snaps, all sulky because I done rained on her parade. “I know better than to go out into the badlands smelling of flowers and fruit.”

  So she just naturally smells this nice and fresh? Lord have mercy on whatever man Tina eventually sets her sights on, because he ain’t gonna stand a chance. “Either way, it’s good work,” I say, which earns me yet another huffy glare.

  “Not good enough to fool you.”

  Or any experienced Rangers, but there aren’t as many of those out here as you’d think. I don’t argue it though, just gesture for her to follow me back to camp where Cowie is still staring at me from under the wagon with his big grey eyes. I wave him out too, and he makes his way over all hoppy and bouncy as can be, which is sure to put a smile on Tina’s face. While she cuddles and spoils him, I set about cooking up a hot breakfast of warmed hardtack covered in pemmican. Ain’t much to look at, pemmican that is, nor does it sound all that appetizing, what with it being a mixture of animal fat, jerky, and berries, all dried or dehydrated to create a dense, calorie-rich bar of what looks like burnt crumbs packed together tight.

  Tastes delicious though, especially pan-fried with some potates and allium roots, and lasts a good long while without refrigeration. Got a whole bunch on my last trip out, as I came across a trader headed south who was willing to part with a crate of jars for cheap. They make plenty up in the Muscari Steppes, as giant herds of them titular beasts roam the area, well protected from Abby and predators alike thanks to the efforts of the locals with help from the Métis Pathfinders. My daddy brought me up to take part in the hunts twice, where they pick out the older, weaker muscari to cull the herd and allow the younger beasts more food to grow. Also ensures there’s plenty of winter food to go around, seeing how them muscari weight a good 2 tons each, with so much meat they even got enough to export it as far as Thunder Bay to the west, where it’s become a staple in the military rations of the allied forces fending off the year-round incursions from the Soulless Abby of the Deadlands.

  Ain’t ever been, because my daddy said we’d only be a nuisance to the soldier’s stationed there, and they got enough on their plate without adding us to the mix. Really makes me wonder what it’s like over there, but hunting in the Deadlands is by invitation only, and I most certainly don’t qualify. It’s so bad over there, the British Protectorate summoned Edward Elten to serve up there soon as they found out where he was, and I ain’t seen the formidable man since.

  To cheer Tina up, I brew her a pot of her favourite tea in the one and only kettle, though to be fair, I’m the only one that prefers coffee outta the four people here. By the time breakfast is ready, Aunty Ray and Chrissy have come out to join us, but Tina’s mood is still dark and dour as can be. Perceptive as she is, Aunty Ray clocks that right quick and gives me a look, one that says she don’t know what I done to bring Tina down, but I best get right to fixing it, or else. I don’t care to find out what Aunty Ray intends, so I hand Tina her plate of toast and pemmican and take a seat down beside her. “So tell me more about the Echo,” I say, because truth is, I do want to know more. She ‘awakened’ the Ability after I was Exiled, so I only really know bits and bobs from what I’ve learned from others who possess the same Ability. “I hear you can cast Spells through it, like throwing it up on a ledge to get line of sight while staying safe and sound in cover.”

  “I can’t.” Biting into her hardtack like it owes her money, Tina lights up briefly at the taste of the pemmican, which is sweeter and lighter than usual. Greasy as all heck too, which I see as a bonus, but the mix of sweet and savoury hits just right on these cold, unpleasant mornings. “It’s possible, but I ain’t figured it out yet. Can see through its perspective and use it as an extra Mirror Image, but there’s still so much more I haven’t figured out yet. The Chevaliers, they got a fella by the name of Kryn, and they call him the Echo Knight, because his Echo can attack and even shoot at his enemies and hurt them something fierce.”

  “I heard the same,” I say, nodding sagely like I know what I’m talking about. “It don’t use his weapons though, and it don’t actually attack per se. Rather, the Illusion makes the target believe they’ve been attacked, and any damage inflicted is actually Mental damage. Kills them all the same, but Mental Fortress would shut him down right quick.”

  “How many Abby know the Spell though?” Tina asks, which is fair enough. Abby tend to go big on offense more than defense, because their Proggies want them killing and collecting, not hiding and surviving. There are exceptions of course, though those are few and far between. “I also heard he got no range limit on his Echo,” Tina continues, having no doubt done her research beforehand. “Me, I’m limited to 5 meters, but Kryn once sent his Echo out on a full day’s travel to single-handedly take out a band of Abby and rescue fifteen captured prisoners, all while he was lyin’ injured in a hospital bed several klicks away.”

  “Impressive,” I say, smiling because I done heard the same story, except I got more details than Tina. While Kryn’s controlling his Echo, his real self can’t do much of anything else, so he was pissing and shitting into a bedpan while his Echo was out and about. No sense dissuading Tina though, because she needs a goal to chase after, even if it ain’t all that pleasant in truth. “I hear he’s been working on maintaining two Echoes at the same time too, but he ain’t got the hang of it just yet.”

  That gets Tina’s attention, and she goes all bright-eyed and alert all at once. “Really?” She asks, her dark mood forgotten now that she’s heard something of interest. “Multiple Echoes? That’s possible?”

  “Supposedly,” I reply, because that’s all I really got for her. “As for the damage thing, you could maybe try practicing Shadow Blade for a bit, or the Cantrip version Shadow Bolt.” Which are both objectively terrible Spells in my opinion, since there are so many Spells that do the job better when it comes to killing Abby. Tina ain’t as versatile as I am though, in that she can’t just pick up whatever Spells she’s interested in, and is mostly limited to what her bloodline gives her. The trade off is that she’s got a whole lot more Spell Structures prepped at any given moment, 33 last I checked while my new and improved limit is a whopping 12. That’s a huge advantage for Tina, even if her Aether tank is smaller than mine. The only downside is that only two of her prepped Spells can be traded out for new ones since she’s stuck with the rest. Means she got a wide range of tools to work with, but there’s some overlap, and she can’t load up on specific Spells for whatever the situation requires.

  Makes Spell selection that much more critical for her, especially seeing how she seems to have pigeonholed herself into Mirror Image and Minor Illusion lately. “Might also give Mind Whip a shot,” I add, wincing when I remember how much damage I took when the rangy ranakin Matías hit me with the Enchantment Spell up at Carter’s compound. “You have that, right?” Tina nods and falls uncharacteristically silent as she munches on her pemmican and hardtack, but I press on with gassing her up. “Plus, you’ll get your Third Order Spells soon enough,” I continue, only to pause when Aunty Ray shoots me a warning look from across the way, but it’s too little too late. Ain’t nothing to do besides commit, so I say, “No tellin’ what Spells you’ll get, but if you get Phantasmal Force, then I’m sure that’ll go a long ways to helping you figure out how to make your Echo deadly as Kyrn’s.”

  And have a big boom in her pocket for when the going gets tough. Phantasmal Force is also known as the Illusionist’s Fireball, and not for no reason, as it hits all the same notes while being plenty more versatile too. Most use it to throw out an Illusory ball of fire that looks more like Fireball than the real spell, and will kill almost as well, but you can get real creative with the Illusion Spell in ways I don’t entirely understand.

  Tina’s long and tired sigh explains why Aunty Ray was warning me off the topic, as it sounds like my sorta sister is real bummed about not having any Third Order Spells just yet. To be fair, it’s almost been a full year since I learned Fireball, and 18 months since Chrissy picked up Catnap, which is the largest gap we’ve ever had in out Spellslinging accomplishments. Doesn’t track with Aunty Ray’s experience either, because even though she was two years older than Tina is now on the day of the Advent and not yet a full-fledged Magus herself, it took less than year for Aunty Ray’s bloodline to develop 3 Third Order Spells after stepping through the Gate and onto the Frontier.

  That’s why the Marshal was willing to bring her on the trip into the badlands while 5 months pregnant, because it ain’t easy to find Disrupter and Supporter as powerful and versatile as Aunty Ray. Also because Aunty Ray wouldn’t take no for an answer. Uncle Raleigh’s development followed the same general principles, as did many other Innates who made fast progress soon as they arrived here on the Frontier, so Tina’s slow development is concerning for all parties involved, and no doubt a point of stress these last few months while I been away from the household.

  My sorta-sister confirms it too as she speaks around a mouthful of pemmican, having picked up a few bad habits in training that you can’t really get around. “Who knows when that’ll be,” she mutters, her back hunched and shoulders slumped as she stares at her plate. “Been so long now, I might never get to Third Order, and even if I did, I’d probably get somethin’ I can’t use.”

  “Like what?” I ask, more than a little concerned about Tina’s dour outlook, as she’s usually the brightest and cheeriest person in the room. Which is saying a lot considering who her mama is, but this sullen, gloomy gus ain’t a familiar sight. Tina doesn’t answer either, just looks away and keeps eating, but I know her well enough to guess at what she means. “You mean an Enchantment right? Somethin’ you don’t want to use because you afraid of how people’ll look at you after the fact.”

  I should’ve beaten Errol black and blue for lookin’ at Tina the way he did when he learned she could cast Madness. In fact, I got half a mind to do it anyways when we get back, because it seems like Tina took it harder than I thought. Her lack of answer is telling enough, so I barrel onwards in hope of breaking down her barriers, ones she’d erected because she didn’t want folks thinking she was some sort of mind-shattering monster.

  “Listen here Songbird,” I say, with more than a little heat in my tone, and Tina glances up in surprise to hear it. Shrinks back too, because she thinks that heat is for her, which breaks my heart to see, so I try and ease off a little bit despite the rage burning in my belly. “A Spell is a Spell, so what’s the difference between burning someone to a crisp with Fireball or using Agonizing Scream to turn their brains to jelly and send them running for the hills? Nothing, that’s what, so why you gotta feel bad about being an Enchanter when don’t no give Evokers grief for walking around locked and loaded at all times?”

  Fact is, there are differences, in that Psychic Scream is far weaker than Fireball, or even Frost Nova which would be the more direct comparison. Both are Third Order Spells that do damage in a radius around the caster, but Psychic Scream does less damage than Frost Nova and can’t be Metamagicked to avoid friendlies, with the only added bonus being that anything hit by it tends to go running off in a panic, instead of getting frozen in place. All of which I list out for Tina to hear, but the facts don’t cheer her up none, because truth of the matter is that people got good reason to be wary of Enchanters.

  Though again, going with the same argument, folks seem a lot less concerned about getting hit by powerful, area of effect Evocation Spells, and a lot more concerned about being swindled by Charm Person, led around by the nose with Suggestion, or outright controlled by Beguile Person, all Enchantment Spells that do similar things to varying effects. Then there’s Madness of course, the big boogeyman of the Enchantment Spell list, one New Hope and the surrounding homesteads experienced firsthand this past May, and no doubt left a whole lot of scars on those who survived it.

  That don’t matter though, because Tina ain’t never done nothing to hurt nobody, much less used her Enchantments for nefarious purposes, so there ain’t no reason for her to be so strongly against her Enchantment Spells. It’s the whole idea behind her Callsign even, following suit with her parents Callsigns of Siren and Requiem, because they was both known for their powerful Enchantments that could change the tides of battle with a single Spell. While Aunty Ray favours Illusions, she got Paranoia too, which is like Madness on steroids, as it makes the target think everyone is out to get them and react in a murderous fashion.

  The difference between the two Spells? Madness makes the target respond in a very primal and primitive manner, primarily attacking with fists or fangs or what have you. An experienced gunfighter might draw a gun, while capable fighters might pick up a sword or club or something, but only because they see the weapon as an extension of themselves, and in the throes of Madness, will still be drawn to using those weapons they trained with. Even then, they’ll only attack directly, because the Spell done made them murderous and crazy, whereas Paranoia only does the former, while leaving the target in full control of their other faculties, including tactics, training, and Spells.

  Meaning if you cast Paranoia on a Synapse Abby, it’ll use every Spell, Ability, and weapon in its arsenal to kill anything around it, including its psychic link with all nearby Abby. That’s why Mental Fortress is part and parcel of every Synapse Abby’s kit, because they can’t afford to be made Paranoid since you can wipe out a whole Abby army using only one Third Order Spell.

  That’s the beauty of the Enchantment School of magic, because much like Illusions are tailor made for Abby, the same can be said of Enchantments. It’s a powerful set of tools that some nefarious types have twisted for their own use, most notably the feared French general and statesman Napolean Bonaparte who rose to power during the French Revolution and warped the minds of his followers to make them unwaveringly loyal. They’d fight to the death for him, and their stalwart dedication combined with his ability as one of the greatest military commanders of all time made him a force to be feared both on and off the battlefield. The man modernized warfare in a way that still can be seen today, and if not for the direct intervention of multiple Immortal Monarchs, he might well have risen up to join them instead of dying of cancer in exile after his army was defeated in the battle of Waterloo.

  Course at the time, no one knew he was an Enchanter, but history has revealed plenty since, and as such, the general perception of Enchantment ain’t exactly glowing. Never thought it was all that bad though, not in New Hope at least, but Tina’s reaction says different and fills me full of rage. It’s one thing for folks to be wary of me for what I done, but what’s Tina ever done to deserve their fear and alarm? Nothing, that’s what, but bringing it up don’t help my argument none.

  “Mama ain’t ever used nothing but calm logic and patience to settle any arguments or disputes,” Tina replies, looking me dead in the eyes in direct challenge. “But you still hear folks muttering about how she done used her ‘mind magic’ to compel them into compliance.”

  “Sour grapes is all,” I reply, waving it away. “They say a good compromise leaves both sides happy, but the truth is it typically leaves both sides unsatisfied since most people are greedy and selfish. They can’t refute her logic though, so they complain about something no one can disprove, and since she always holds talks at the church, town hall, or courtroom where they got a Ward of Protection laid down, everyone knows they full of sh – ” I cut myself off just in time, but not before Aunty Ray hits me with a glare, so I pretend not to notice and push on. “Full of hot air.”

  “But they still say it,” Tina retorts. “And they refuse to talk business outside of them Wards. You know why she don’t ever haggle over prices with anyone? Because folks get to grumbling about how she done nickel and dimed them using her Enchantments.”

  More like her feminine wiles, which can be just as magical. Not saying Aunty Ray goes around flirting for discounts, but men will do a lot for a pretty smile, and she got one of the prettiest smiles around. Problem is, them menfolk can’t exactly admit to as much in front of their wives, so they make up some other excuse instead.

  Course, I didn’t know that’s why Aunty Ray never haggled over prices, as I thought she was just too polite to do it. Here and now, I can see how it affects her, as she’s trying to put on a brave face, but it’s clear Tina’s concerns ain’t exactly unwarranted.

  So I take a breath and try to come at this from another angle, because Tina’s unwillingness to use Enchantments is like tying one hand behind her back. “I ain’t gonna say it ain’t bad,” I begin, grimacing at my ignorance for never noticing. “I understand what it’s like, believe you me, because folks been seeing me as the bloodthirsty Qink for years now, but you can’t let their perceptions stop you from bein’ you. Worse, you can’t let it stop you from using a whole School of Magic, your second-best School mind you, and a good half of your permanent Spell list.”

  Or close enough to it, and Tina don’t argue the facts, just slumps down even further while eating her pemmican. All this talk is only hurting her confidence more, so I rally with a genuine compliment. “Look Tina, the fact that you awakened your Ability to Manifest an Echo is amazing, especially bein’ young as you are. Ain’t your bloodline that brung you this far, but your hard work and countless hours of practice with Minor Illusion, Mirror Image, and Lord knows what other Spells. The thing is, that only means that your actual talent has yet to reveal itself, and I’m thinking it’s because you done put half your Spell list to one side.”

  That gets her attention, and Tina turns to me with a frown. “What you mean by that?”

  “Look at the facts,” I say, gesturing at her, then Chrissy and Aunty Ray. “In terms of number of Spells, you got more than even Chrissy, and discounting Third Order Spells, more than your Mama too. That’s no small feat, but it goes to show that your talents don’t lie solely in Illusions, nor does it seem weighted towards it. Whereas Chrissy clearly favours Enchantments, there’s no obvious bias for you, none besides your feelings on Enchantments which got nothing to do with the Spells themselves. What if the reason you’ve yet to reach Third Order Spells is because you ain’t practiced your Enchantments enough? Like a weightlifter who only works out one arm and wonders why he can’t bench press for shhhenanigans.”

  Don’t make sense, but Aunty Ray’s looking heated enough to wash my mouth out with soap, or worse, use Prestidigitation to make everything I eat and drink taste like it. Again, I pretend not to notice and launch whole hog into my pitch, selling Tina on the value of Enchantments which is easy since they are powerful, battle-altering Spells that can turn a hard fight into a cake walk when properly utilized. “Yesterday’s fight? A Madness on the Beetle Behemoth would’ve ended things right quick as it would’ve squashed anything coming out of the ground after it and gone after the Spitters and Swarmlings soon after. Later on, if we spot a group of Abby before they spot us, you could kick things off with a Discord Spell to get them all hopped up and angry at one another, enough to spark off a full-fledged fight if we’re lucky. A well-timed Silvery Barbs can distract a shooter or Spellslinger enough to keep them from hitting their target, while Sleep is king when going up against Drones and Swarmlings because they got next to no defense against it.”

  There’s so much more to cover, like the utility Spells that no one ever gives credit to. Song of Rest, like Tina used every night on our trip up to Pleasant Dunes, though I missed out on how she stopped using it on our way back. It’s still a great Spell that revitalizes a whole group of listeners, letting them get more out of fewer hours of good, restful sleep. Which is huge when you out on the trail and don’t got a safe place to hole up in, so much so that I think I’ll have Tina use it every night from here on out just so she can get some practice. Mantle of Inspiration is great for giving allies a burst of extra energy, one they can use to zip around faster and fight harder than they otherwise would, while we all felt the effects of Dissonant Whistle firsthand thanks to the Mindspire, which gave off a reduced effect compared to the Spell in return for being persistent. The actual Spell hurts your brain so much you might well forget your own name for a second, which makes it real hard to Concentrate on vital Spells like say Aunty Ray’s Hypnotic Pattern or an Entangling Roots or Flaming Cloud blocking your approach.

  Taunt, Bless, Heroism, Bane, and Hex are all First Order Enchantments, ones so good they’re staples in the Ranger Supporter’s kit, so much so that experienced Rangers would often leave out Fourth, Fifth, and even Sixth Order Spells just to fit them in. All tools available to Tina which she’s leaving untouched, and I haven’t even gotten to the real goodies in the Third Order, or the heinous Spells which give the School of Magic such a bad rep.

  Not without reason, because a First Order Charm Person Spell can convince a shopkeeper to hand over all his cash and help load his goods onto a stranger’s wagon, all with a big smile on his face until the Spell effect ends. A second Order Suggestion can’t be used to make a target inflict harm on themselves or another, but a well-worded one could send a man to certain death all the same. ‘Go for a swim out to the middle of the lake’ is a reasonable Suggestion, one that will see the target swim until they’re dragged away by the currents or caught by lurking Abby in past years. ‘Take a hike up to Mount Rime’ is the same, and so is, ‘Tell me the combination to your saferoom lock’, enabling an unscrupulous Enchanter to kill their target using mundane methods like a knife or gun.

  So yeah. It’s a terrifying School of magic sure, but honestly, hardly any scarier than getting hit by a Fireball or Conjuring a trio of bears to tear someone apart.

  “You want to be a Ranger?” I ask, despite knowing the answer. “Then you gotta get over your aversion to Enchantments. You good enough for the army as is, but like I said, it takes a whole lot more to be Ranger ready.” Seeing how she still down in the dumps about it, I give her a bump with my shoulder and add, “That said, if anyone so much as says half a word untowards about you or your Enchantments, then you give me a name and I’ll give them something to really worry about. Don’t no one get to make you feel bad about who you are. Got it?”

  Tina nods, while looking less enthused than I’d like and more worried, probably because she knows me and my temper. Means she won’t ever say word one if anyone gives her grief, but that’s okay. I got other people I can ask, folks I can task to keep an ear and eye out on the situation, as few things remain secret among the Rangers, and even less stays secret in New Hope. I don’t care if it’s a townie or a Ranger; I’ll handle them all the same, and make them regret their words and their deeds.

  Me? I deserve all the looks and concern, because turns out, I am a bloodthirsty Qink, but Tina is sweet as sugar and pretty as a peach, so she don’t deserve none of that hate. That’s why she’d rather not use her Spells, because she don’t want to scare no one, but from here on out, I’ll put the fear of God in anyone who says word one about either of my sorta-sisters, because that’s what older brothers do.