“What are you thinking about?”
A real headscratcher of a question that leaves me scrambling for a little white lie of an answer. Considering we’re all snuggled up under the covers after an evening of sinful pleasures, I doubt Josie wants to hear my thoughts on Ritual Magic and my journey of self, especially since it’s mostly conjecture. “Our future,” I whisper, giving a little half shrug so as not to disturb Noora who’s fast asleep to my left. Squeezing Josie’s shoulder and clinching her tight, I stifle a sigh and put aside my own issues to face ours instead. “It’s been three weeks right?” Since Aunty Flow came to visit, which is a pretty good indicator of what’s to come. “I know Noora said we don’t got to worry until six, and I ain’t worried, but I was thinkin’ that maybe we ought to talk to someone and learn a little more.” Like Aunty Ray or Uncle Art, but I don’t want to pressure Josie into any uncomfortable conversations.
Not until there’s no avoiding them at least, but for now, it’s still a maybe.
Josie doesn’t answer right away, just curls up against me and sinks into my chest. After a long minute of silence, I get to wondering if she’s fallen asleep when she finally answers. “It just doesn’t feel real yet,” she whispers, and I hug her close to show my support. “If I talk to someone though, then it becomes real, and I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”
Hardly surprised to hear she’d conflicted, and I can’t blame her either. She’s going through all this so soon after losing her own parents, so she must be scared something fierce. I haven’t been around much either, always gone during the week to finish my hours, and that’s weighing heavy on me now. I’ll be gone in the morning again too, back to Mueller’s Quay for my third week of work, with two more left to go. By then, June will be over and done with, and the big Fourth of July celebration will be upon us, hopefully without a Mindspire and Proggie to worry about. Won’t change much for Josie though, who’s pretty much going at this alone for the most part. Sure, she got Noora here to keep her company, but the hazel-eyed beauty to the left of me lives wholly in the moment, because she don’t know any other way to live. Tomorrow’s issues are tomorrow’s concerns, while she makes the most of today.
I could never live like that. The sheer amount of stress I’d go through scrambling to get things done on a day-to-day basis would be enough to do me in. As for Josie, she’s one to put things off until she can’t anymore, which is a nice way of saying she chooses to hide her head in the sand. A silly way to go about life, but it ain’t always easy to face facts and move forward, else there wouldn’t be so many people just like her. So long as she can pretend it’s not real, then it isn’t until it is, and that’s how she’s choosing to go about this. It’s about the lack of options for her, because she’s a good, Catholic girl, so if she got a bun in the oven, then there’s nothing she can do about it except rise up to the challenge.
As for me? Well… I don’t want to say the big A word, but if she ain’t ready or willing, then I say no baby is better than bringing one into the world for no reason besides obligation.
Either way, I’m doing what I can to prep for whatever may come. Mr. Mueller already put me in touch with a seller for stone bricks and lumber, and even helped me rough up an estimate on how much material I’ll need, so now I’m just waiting to hear back on a price. Gotta talk to Aunty Ray to figure out how I go about designing a house, or who I ask for help, and everything else on my end is simple as can be. Any problem that money can fix ain’t much of a problem since I’m still flush from my Proggie payout, and I got plenty of wealth in precious resources too if need be. Burns me up knowing how much the Rangers pay for outside assistance on a successful hunt, especially if you give up your rights to the corpse and Condenser they make from it. If they paid my daddy for even a tenth of his hunts, he would’ve been the richest person in town, but he turned all that money down for base Ranger pay.
This ain’t about that though. This is about Josie, who’s scared for the future and don’t know what to do, so I hold her close and reassure her as best I can. “Whatever happens, we’ll see it through together,” I whisper, pushing past the twinge of guilt over the fact that I’ve only been home on weekends and spend half my time with Danny and Uncle Teddy. On top of all that, Josie’s gotta share what little time I got left with Noora, Chrissy, Tina, and now Elodie, so saying I’m here for her is would be bald-faced lie. “Let’s do it your way then. If you want to wait, then we’ll wait, and once I’m finished my hours, we’ll act according to circumstance.”
Three weeks. Ain’t a long stretch of time by most measures, but a lot can change in three weeks. Was a three-week trip to Pleasant Dunes after all, and that changed my whole life with little to no fanfare. Josie don’t answer though, not for another long bit, and I almost fall asleep until I hear her whisper, “You know what’s funny? I used to dream about all this, of marrying you and starting a family, but now that it might actually happen, I can’t even be happy about it.” Not words to inspire confidence from the possible mother of my child, though I keep quiet and let her vent. “I thought I’d catch your eye at a festival, and you’d ask me to dance, then we’d spend the night going around in circles until the band packed up and left. Then you’d ask me out on a date, and we’d have a whole whirlwind romance, until a few months later, you’d ask Papa for my hand in marriage. He’d scowl and grumble, then Mama would tell him to stop making you sweat. She’d be so happy too, because she knew how I felt about you, helped me pick out the silk for the handkerchief and plan out the design.”
Her papa must’ve known too, since he recognized it at a glance, and only now does it occur to me that Josie must’ve started embroidering it long before our first dalliance at the shooting range. Now I got another reason to feel guilty, because I knew she had eyes for me before then, and my reaction was to brush it off and tell Danny he ought to ask her out all the same. Thought she was too giggly and girly for my tastes, but truth is, I didn’t know what I wanted in a woman, and Josie’s got it all in spades.
So I hold her as she cries because she misses her parents, and not because she don’t want to be here with me and Noora. Hurts to see her so torn up about it, and even more when she rallies and apologizes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just… All this happened, and even though you said we’d get married, I don’t want it to be because you have to. I want you to want to marry me, because I want to marry you more than anything else in the world.”
“Hang on now,” I say, interrupting as she’s about to pick up a head of steam in her sob-filled confession. “Wait just a second. I uh, realize now that I might’ve done goofed in a big way.” Wishing I could see her in the dark, I turn towards her to nuzzle her close as I think of how to phrase it. “Okay. I said what I said about how I’d marry you if you was pregnant, and I see now how that uh, was not exactly the stuff of romance.” Because it made it sound like I’d only marry her if she was pregnant since I’d no choice but to. “I did say I stopped to look at rings right after our first dalliance though, right? That wasn’t because I was worried about pregnancy. That’s just how I am, because I don’t do nothin’ by halves. While it’s been something of a rushed and whirlwind sorta romance, I do want to marry you Josie. Truth is, soon as it happened, I realized how much of a fool I was not to see how wonderful you really are, and I been head over heels since. Don’t hold a candle to how you’ve felt about me, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little slow on the uptake when it comes to certain things.”
A half sob, half laugh escapes from her lips. “You mean it?” She asks, and again, it hurts to know she got so many doubts and misgivings yet never bothered to share them. Because like with the baby, she was afraid of how I’d react, and I don’t want her to ever be afraid of me, not one bit.
“Every word,” I murmur. “You an incredible woman, Josie Ramirez, and I been a fool to not see it sooner. You the sweetest, kindest, most passionate person I know, always there with a kind word and a helping hand before anyone needs to even ask. I still remember when I came over to ask if Chrissy could join your little hair braiding session. When she told me she wanted me to braid her hair instead, I figured y’all would make faces and send us away, but you just smiled and told me to take a seat without even having to think.”
“The look on your face was priceless,” Josie whispers, running her hand across my chest and up to my chin. “You just stood there with a frozen smile blinking like someone just threw sand in your eyes. Then you went with it, but all your cocky confidence had melted away leaving a sheepish and shy boy behind. When you started brushing her hair, you were so gentle about it, afraid that the tiniest bit of pressure would hurt her, and that’s when I knew you were nothing like what people said.”
Sweet as all that is, I can’t help but fixate on that last bit. “And what exactly were people saying?”
I can almost hear her scrunching her nose as she snuggles in close. “When they were being polite? That you were a ‘troubled’ boy. When they weren’t they’d say you were like a dog off its leash without your father around.” Heaving a soft sigh, she turns my head to face her once more as she cranes her neck for a kiss. “This was in the months after he passed of course,” she adds, sensing the underlying tension inside, “When you were getting into fights every other day.”
Because kids parrot what their parents say, and ain’t smart enough to be coy about it. That’s also when I learned to get things on recording before laying a beatdown, because there were plenty of parents who thought their little angel can do no wrong, even if all they done is speak the truth. Thing is, freedom of speech means you free to say whatever it is you like, but it don’t mean you free from the consequences those words bring you. You see an ugly man, you can go right ahead and call him ugly to his face, but forgive me if I withhold any sympathy when he clocks you square across the jaw.
Taking a deep breath to push down all the anger, I breathe out and wrest control of my emotions again. “Yeah,” I drawl, feeling more than a little ashamed to admit it. “They wasn’t wrong.”
“You had good reason to be upset,” Josie retorts, getting all fired up on my behalf. “Your father was murdered by the Qin, and the Rangers disavowed him. I remember how up in arms Papa was about that, because he said that if the Feds would do that to Mr. Ming, they would do it to any one of them.” And might well have, if Quartermaster Lacey hadn’t stepped up to introduce legislation to give non-Americans working in and around New Hope dual-citizenship without having to forfeit their original status.
Too late for my daddy though, and even though Josie says her papa was outraged, didn’t no one take to the streets or nothing. Really hammers home what Mr. Mueller said about the reward for hard work being more work, because my daddy was one of the hardest working of them all, and what did he get for it? A whole lot of nothing. Less than nothing in fact, not even gratitude for his years of sacrifice and service.
Pushing all my unresolved anger back down into my belly, I feed my guilt into the fire too when I remember how I done let him down too. First by getting him shot because I didn’t shout a warning, and again by wasting all my years of training and ending up like this. “That’s all behind us though,” I say, and Josie gets real quiet because she done realized it’s a touchy subject. “Here on out, we look to the future, our future together. We’ll get through it together, so just know that I love you, and I ain’t just sayin’ it because you might be pregnant.”
Josie cozies up beside me with a soft little sigh. “Say it again?”
Grinning in the darkness, I say it again, because it feels good to get off my chest. “I love you, Josie Ramirez.”
“One more time?”
“I love you, and I’ll say it as often as you like.”
“Love you too,” she whispers, and those three simple words put enough heat in my ears to boil water with. Then, after a little pause, she asks, “So if we do have a kid, which would you prefer?”
“Human,” I quip, and she pinches my side ever so gently. “I’ll take a marty though. They awful cute. Not right away, as they born all bald and pink, though that still better than baby joeys. Truth is, baby humans are kinda ugly at first too.”
“Stop,” Josie says, still somewhat playful, but with a bit of an edge. “Our baby will be beautiful right out of the womb.”
“You ain’t ever seen a live birth before, have you?” It’s a gruesome, stomach churning scene to behold, and I seen the aftermath of more Abby attacks than I can remember. “Babies come out wet, wrinkly, and covered in all sorts of gunk. That’s why they keep a basin of warm water handy, to wash the kid before handing them back to the mother, because don’t no woman want her first reaction to her baby be one of disgust.” Kissing Josie’s forehead, I add, “Course, once they all cleaned up, they can be pretty cute.” Not as cute as no marty, but that’s a high bar to clear. Even a baby diamondclaw ain’t as cute as no marty, which is really saying something.
I eventually answer her question honestly and tell her I’d prefer a daughter, and then we get to talking about how we gonna raise our daughter and son, or son and daughter as she would prefer it. We’ll have them baptized by the Padre of course, and ask Uncle Teddy to be their godfather, while Aunty Ray is clearly gonna be their grandma in everything besides name. No doubt she’ll make them call her Aunty too, and spoil them something fierce. Chrissy will love the kids, as she loves all things cute, and babies are about as cute as can be once their wrinkles all smooth out. We’ll have cradles and rocking chairs a plenty, all padded with wally wool, and give them hair ribbons or bow ties to really pretty them up. Josie can teach them to sing, dance, and play piano, while I’ll teach them how to ride, hunt, and survive. Our summers will be spent out by the lakeshore, swimming, snorkelling, and just horsing around once the Proggie and Mindspire are gone, and our winters skiing or snowboarding up in Mount Rime as soon as I’m sure the Mafia ain’t out to get me.
We’d get them pets of course, something to love and cuddle and learn how to care for. Send them off to school every morning, and pick them up in the afternoons. Take them out to see the Frontier once they old enough, or maybe early on while they still easy to take care of. Teach them magic along the way of course, and maybe even prep them to join the Rangers if they so inclined. Or for a safe job here around New Hope like Josie suggests, with a look I can’t see but can certainly parse as her way of gauging my future career plans. Unfortunately, I’m in the dark same as her, both literally and figuratively, so I got no answers for her on that front. I’d love to find something I could do here in town that would also let me get out and about, but most jobs tend to go all in on one or the other. Either you spend most your hours behind the walls or beyond them, and ain’t much else in between, but I’ll find something I’ll enjoy and puts food on the table, with minimal risk to my safety of course.
Would much rather train Josie up to Ranger standards, and set out to conquer the Frontier as a family. What a vision that would be, the Firstborn Family working side by side to fight Abby and hunt outlaws as a group. I’ll bring it up again after Noora finishes Basic, so she can weigh in and help ease Josie’s mind, because dangerous as the world might be, it’ll be a whole lot less dangerous once the Second Wave comes in and we got man-power enough to push us forward into the 21st century.
Somewhere along the way, the both of us finally nod off, and I cannot for the life of me say whether I fell asleep first, or she did. It’s nice to think about the future and be all cheery about it for once, though reality rears its ugly head as I have nightmares of my family getting attacked by Abby or worse out on the road. Even in my dreams, I keep adding items to my never-ending list, including more work on Automatons to use as night-time sentries and maybe a Familiar for each of us to keep everyone safe. If the whole Wildshaping doesn’t work out, I could always build a gun into my prosthetic Automaton so I can go to bed armed, but I’ll have to be extra sure not to risk a misfire because that’s an Aetherarm I can’t really put down.
Come morning, I wake up with the sunrise and slide out of bed, which is a far more trying task than it sounds. Not only do I have to pull myself away from two gorgeous, clingy, half-dressed beauties, I gotta do it without waking anyone up. Doesn’t work though, as Noora pops her eyes open, greets me with a kiss, then proceeds to roll over me to take my place next to Josie. Can’t help but feel like I should say something, because I get the feeling she wasn’t actually asleep last night while me and Josie were chit chatting away, but I’ve no idea what to say. Telling Noora that I’m in this for the long haul scared her more than the prospect of being pregnant scared Josie, which is really saying something. Can’t exactly lie and say she’s free to come and go as she pleases neither, because I don’t rightly know how to feel at the prospect of her leaving. Does that make me a terrible person? Elodie warned me about chasing after two targets, and Tina did the same, but I really want to make this work for reasons besides the obvious.
Granted, the obvious reasons are awful compelling too, though I admit circumstances ain’t fair for either one of them. Especially when they gotta know that Chrissy will always be a top priority in my life, even if she manages to rise above her condition and get out of her head all the time.
There’s still hope of that yet, more these days than usual, all thanks to Elodie who’s naturally fallen into the role of Chrissy’s spokesperson. They’re like two peas in a pod as they feast on pancakes side by side, with the former all lively and animated after a morning frolic with the horses, and the latter down with the early morning blues as she adjusts to the Mindspire once more. Got her Mental Fortress up and the Church’s Consecration to protect her, but somehow, it seems like Chrissy’s faring worse and worse with each passing day, while Elodie shakes it off with little more than a can-do attitude. It’s really taking a toll on Chrissy and Aunty Ray both, and while Tina does a better job of hiding it, she’s starting to fray around the edges too. Luckily we ain’t got no plans to head out this morning, since we got a 9’o clock mass to attend, while Elodie goes out for a run with the horses because she gets antsy if she goes 2 full days without copious amounts of exercise. Josie and Noora join us in church of course, and sweetheart that she is, Josie beams to see her embroidered handkerchief folded up into a lovely pocket square, with the stylized ‘HZ & JR’ displayed prominently on my chest.
Doesn’t stop her from raising an eyebrow as she takes in the sight of me all dressed up in my Sunday best, and I try my best not to drool at the sight of them in sundresses. “Looks like you’ve put on a little weight, guapo,” she teases with a grin, running her finger over my collar, which is feeling much tighter than the last time I wore this shirt. “Might have to pay Mr. Wideheim a visit when he’s back, or Mrs. Darcy even.” The tailor and seamstress respectively, though neither one of them stayed in town since they wasn’t considered essential.
“Good.” Chiming in with a smoky gaze and subtle bite of her lip, Noora whispers into Josie’s ear, but I can read her purple lips well enough. “More of him for us to share.”
Me and Josie both go a little red in the cheeks, her more than me, and I try not to look nervous at the prospect of someone else overhearing. A daring girl Noora is, one who ain’t afraid to take what she wants when she wants it.
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As if on cue, the second to last person I want to know about my love affairs decides to pop up without warning, leaving me to wonder how much of our conversation he noted. “Good morning Howie,” Uncle Teddy says, giving me a little nod in greeting, before turning his smile on the girls. “Josie. Noora. How are you two faring these days?”
“Well, Marshal,” Josie replies, even more flustered than I am, because not only does she share my concerns, she’s not used to having a direct line to The Marshal himself. Taking my hand for moral support, she gives me a look so full of love and affection that I could die happy right here. “Howie’s been a huge help, both with the practical things and emotional.”
“That so?” Uncle Teddy gives me an appraising look, and while most would see only approval, the glint in his eye tells me he’s working hard to hide his smile. “Glad to hear it.” Turning back to my other paramour, Uncle Teddy asks, “And you Noora? Though you’ve came to us in troubled times, I would hope you’ve found some small measure of safety and solace here in our town.”
“It’s a lovely town,” Noora answers, all languid and relaxed as usual. “And like Josie said, Howie’s been a great help.” Thankfully, she don’t go as far as to link her arm in mine, because even though she don’t care if people learn about our relationship, she knows me and Josie both do. So instead, she mentions how the both of them signed on for Basic, because she knows how to read a man and can tell the Marshal don’t got much on the mind outside of the Rangers. The two of them make small talk with Uncle Teddy for a bit, before he’s pulled away by someone else, and we don’t see each other again until we’re sitting in the pews for mass. With Noora and Josie both with me of course, though they gotta squeeze a bit to fit in with Chrissy, Uncle Teddy, Tina, and Aunty Ray. The Padre delivers another sermon which I pretend to pay attention to while going over numbers in my head, reviewing what I done derived with help from Mr. Mueller and Kevin over the course of the week.
All of which I share with Uncle Teddy once mass is done and the crowd of folks looking to get a word with him edgewise has thinned out enough to make his escape. Gives me time to make lunch while I wait, using cheese and meat I brought back from Mueller’s Quay. “Now that was a fine spread,” Uncle Teddy proclaims, finishing his bowl of beefy mac and cheese in record time. Usually we eat while reviewing last week’s lesson and catching him up on what I learned since, which is why we usually have lunch alone. Ain’t proper conversation for a meal with the whole family, but the two of us are birds of a feather who see food as fuel for the most part. I do love me some good eats, but when I was out on the road, I could go weeks eating hard tack and jerky in the saddle without batting an eye.
These days though? I think I might well cry if I gotta eat hard tack again, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do for travel foods moving forward.
“Didn’t know Craig took to ranching up there,” Uncle Teddy continues, as I gather up the dishes to wash, and it takes me a moment to put 2 and 2 together and realize Craig is Mr. Mueller’s first name. “Man does his job well and is never short a penny on his dock fees, and now I know why. With beef like this, he could name his price anywhere this side of the Divide and there will be people willing to pay it. Good to see that’s he’s done well for himself after all the dark times he went through. Had I known about his work history, I would have kept him closer to hand. Could have used his expertise while putting up our own Radio towers and plenty other projects along the way.”
“A right friendly and brilliant man,” I say, speaking up to be heard over the running water. “Don’t let his missing foot get him down none either. And his kid, Kevin? Sharp as a tack, he is. Me and his da were beating our heads against the wall trying to convert one section of the Spell Formula to better fit in a non-Euclidean model by long hand. Kevin, he walks in, takes one look at what we’re doing, and pulls out something called Bigsby’s Principle to finish our work for us in two minutes flat.”
“Mordenkainen’s prized pupil,” Uncle Teddy says, and I see his shadow nodding along out the corner of my eye as he looks over my notes. “The most imaginative and unstructured of the Circle of Eight. Most these days have never heard of him, but much like Euler in mathematics, Bigsby’s influence in the arcane studies laid the foundations for much of what we know today.”
Which ain’t much all things considered, because I’m beginning to see the flaws in the Orthodox system. Easy to learn, but difficult to master, and even harder still to pass on your hard-earned experiences. Then again, maybe that’s just how it is when you ain’t even a Magus, because you’re still building up the foundation you need to learn Fourth to Ninth Level Spells, assuming you even make it that far. And most don’t I gather, given how rare actual Magi are even here on the Frontier. My perspective’s been skewed, living here in New Hope with so many high-ranking Rangers and military men wandering about, but most folks don’t make it past First Order, while Second Order is a rarity. The fact that Clayton, Carter, and Miss Amelie are all Third Order Magi is out of the norm, as even Ron didn’t have no Magi working for him.
Or if he did, I got them good with my one and only Fireball. That’s why I love the alpha strike; when it works, it really works, and makes the rest of the job all too easy.
As for Mr. Mueller, while I dunno about his Spellslinging, he sure got the learning to be a professional arcana technician. An engineer for all things magic pretty much, but that don’t necessarily mean he got the Spellslinging chops to match. It’s like how some of the best boxing coaches couldn’t go two minutes in the ring, but they know more than their fighters do when it comes to training and strategy. Then again, he was a fair hand at Mould Earth, almost as fast as me by the end of the first week, and truth be told, a lot of his people picked up the trick right quick too. Usually takes at least a month of dedicated effort to get that far, but most were close to matching me with only a few scant hours of work spread out over 5 days. Not Kevin, as his heart ain’t in the magic, since he’d much rather spend his time talking about how machines could do all that computing for him. Seems a bit backwards if you ask me, dedicating all your time to craft a machine that can fill out the parameters of a Spell for you when the human mind does it all intuitively. I can see the advantages, but can’t no one take a Spell Structure out of your head, now can they?
Or I guess they can, if they inflict enough Mental or Spiritual damage on your psyche, which might well be my new second greatest fear, sitting just under confined spaces with unfamiliar strangers who love small talk.
“You’re distracted.” Uncle Teddy’s declaration is delivered in stoic, neutral tones, conveying neither blame nor reproof as he looks up from the textbook we been referencing this last hour and a half. To be fair, the transitive properties of Bigsby’s Principles are less than engaging, and I got a whole lot on my mind these days. Uncle Teddy notices of course, so he closes the book and asks, “What’s eating away at you son?” Grimacing, he asks, “Girl troubles?”
“No,” I answer, all too quickly, even if it ain’t true. He ain’t entirely right though, because many of my current issues do stem from women, an overabundance of them at that. That ain’t the reason why I can’t pay attention to Uncle Teddy’s lesson on how this latest mathematical principle can help foster a better familiarity with Spell Structures which utilize it. No, I’m distracted because it all seems so abstract and unintuitive, whereas Carter makes his method of Spellslinging seem so natural and instinctive. “I was just thinking about Rituals.”
“Oh?” A single raised eyebrow is enough to convey Uncle Teddy’s interest, because he’s a rare Orthodox Spellslinger who still wholeheartedly embraces religion. Most religious types tend to be Innates, Intuitive, or whatever it is you might call folks like the Padre. Faith based casters who utilize Rituals more often than not, because that’s the only magic the Immortal Monarchs of old would allow the clergy after the Native American’s put a bee in their bonnets by fielding dozens of Magi in every battle.
“I mean, how do they even work?” I ask. “Far as I can tell, they’re like an arcane gumball machine. Put your coin in, twist the knob three times, and wah la! Gumball. Seen some folks do it quick too, go through a Ritual as fast as you or I can Intone a Spell.”
Uncle Teddy smiles and is all too happy to engage. “Even though you’re being facetious about it, you aren’t far off from the mark. A Ritual does work the way you describe. You provide the requisite materials, go through the required motions, and the Spell takes shape within the world without need for a Spell Structure to empower it. As for how this is possible, the easy answer would be Faith.” Says it with a capital F, because there’s faith, and then there’s Faith. “There is a power to Faith and the emotions it invokes, and that power feeds into the Ritual, providing the coin for the gumball machine so to speak.”
“And the not so easy answer?” I ask, after sitting on that for a bit, because faith, much like hope, is far too ineffable and imperceptible for me to rely on for something as important as my right hand and entire future.
Sensing there’s more to this conversation than meets the eye, Uncle Teddy takes a moment to study me, and it’s difficult to tell how much he knows. I’m pretty sure he’s figured out Carter’s my source on the Abby tunnels in the lake, though I can’t tell if he’s pieced together how effective a combatant Carter really is. Uncle Teddy ain’t asked about it, and I ain’t volunteered nothing, because even though Carter don’t work all that hard at keeping his secrets, he’s a private man who enjoys his peace and quiet. If he wanted to be a Ranger, he could sign up today and make Captain within the year most likely, but I’m guessing he’d much prefer the quiet life. Food in his belly, a roof over his head, and a future for Elodie is all he seems interested in, and who am I to say the man should live his life different?
“The not so easy answer,” Uncle Teddy begins, deciding to let sleeping dogs lie and not ask about my interest, “Is that a Ritual is an abstract Spell Structure in and of itself.” Which tracks with what Carter said, that a Spell Structure is nothing but a highly optimized Ritual, and now it’s really blowing my mind. “With practice and familiarity, a user can perform a Ritual almost instinctively, reach out and activate a Spell with little more than a thought. When performed in this quick and familiar manner, we call that a Spell-like Ability, or just Ability for short. Your friend, Errol?” I just barely manage to keep from wincing, because I don’t think we friends anymore. “His Ability to Turn Aberration is a good example. All he needs to do is quote a portion of relevant scripture, and his Faith alone is enough to invoke a Spell-like effect that strips bolstering Spells from an Aberration and send them scurrying away in fear. With enough Faith, his Ability could strip away the very magics holding an Aberration together, the lynchpin that connects their physical forms to the Immaterium.”
“…You mean like their souls or Spirits?” Which is far more impressive than I took it for, but Uncle Teddy frowns and shakes his head.
“Aberrations lack souls,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument. “Not just the Soulless, but all of them, for they are merely puppets created by a Progenitor and provided with a spark which allows them to think independently. In fact, it is this basis upon which Golems were formed, and later the Automatons you’re learning to craft from young Daniel.” Waving a hand to get us back on track, Uncle Teddy explains, “Though Turn Aberration appears powerful at first glance, there are many limitations to it. First off, it requires Faith, true Faith in whatever it is the Spellcaster believes in, whether it be a religion or a cause. Should they lose Faith, then their Abilities go with it, and I’ve seen many a Chaplain or Knight Templar lose their Faith in the battle when faced with overwhelming odds.” Nodding, he adds, “So too have I seen men and women find their Faith in the same circumstances, like young Errol did over in Pleasant Dunes. Add in his Intuitive abilities and his penchant for support Spells, he’ll become a force to be reckoned with as soon as he’s finished his training.”
Sounds like Errol’s been singled out for extra attention, and it burns me to feel jealous about it. Mostly because I’m guessing he’s been earmarked for the role I was suppose to take, as the face of the next generation of Rangers. Tina might be top boot, but she’s too pretty for the masses to take seriously, even though she got the skills to run circles around most. Errol though? Tall, handsome, athletic, and pious Paladin Errol would look great on recruitment posters, and the fact that he’s black is just icing on the cake. Military loves to recruit minorities, because they tend to be the ones who grow up feeling like they don’t fit into society, and the military gives them a place where they belong.
“There are other limitations,” Uncle Teddy continues. “While using Spell-like Abilities does not affect the number of Spells you can cast per day, they cannot be used without limit. When Errol came into his Abilities in Pleasant Dunes, he was only able to Turn Aberration a single time, because in a way, his Faith was not strong enough to allow anymore. Not his faith in the bible or religion, but rather his Faith in himself. With time and effort, he will learn to push those limits and utilize his Abilities more often as he develops, though even the best Holy Warriors typically need a short rest after using Turn Aberration once or twice, with the current record being nine times in a single day spread out over the course of sixteen hours.”
Which is all fine and dandy, but I really wish Errol wasn’t the only example Uncle Teddy can use. “I see,” I say, mulling over it all before asking, “So how does one go about developing an Ability then? Not necessarily Turn Aberration, but any general Ability at all.” Like Wildshaping, which sounds like it ticks all the boxes, though I’ll have to ask Carter whether he agrees with all this or not.
Uncle Teddy shrugs, which is never a good sign. “Luck mostly. Your Portent can be considered a Spell-like Ability, and your father developed an additional one in his Hunter’s Mark, as he grew so familiar with the Spell that he didn’t need it prepared and could still cast it several times a day by activating it through the Immaterium directly.” Huh. I always thought he simplified it down to a Cantrip, but I guess that’s just the tagline they use to explain it all in shorthand.
Don’t help me in my efforts to learn Wildshape, or a stripped-down version that’ll give me back the use of my right hand. There’s the power of hope at work again, because even though ain’t nothing really changed from yesterday, I was really hoping that Uncle Teddy would have some insight to offer on the subject, some piece of advice that would make all the pieces fall into place just like that. No helping it though, so back to banging my head against the wall I go, and hope that one of my many avenues of interest pay off eventually.
Nothing for it but to keep on keeping on, a thought which got me heaving sighs like no tomorrow. “Son,” Uncle Teddy begins, and I straighten up to hear it. He’s giving me a strange look, but not head on. No, he glancing at me sideways, with his head down and face ever so slightly averted. On another man, I’d say he’d look ashamed, but that ain’t the Marshal. He does what he does because it’s what’s necessary to succeed, and he don’t got no regrets about it so long as the mission succeeds. “Earlier today, I asked Josie and Noora how they were faring, and it occurred to me that I’ve never asked you, not since you lost your hand.” Raising his head, his slate grey eyes meet mine with steely determination, like he ready to face the butcher’s bill and knows it’s gonna be bad. “So now I’m asking. How are you doing?”
I answer almost on reflex, with a little tilt of my head followed by a quick and barely perceptible shrug. “Fine,” I say, before the weight of the world settles on my shoulders and I feel it all again. “Or you know. Not so fine. But well enough, you know? No complaints.”
Which is true even, because on paper, life is going great. I got 2 girlies who I’m crazy about, found a new friend for Chrissy who can help her get out of her head, made a lot of new friends, and a good bit of progress in my studies, even if none of it has paid off just yet. I’ve finished the lion’s share of my hours and only need a few weeks more to settle the whole thing, and I’ve been eating real good and training plenty in my free time. Lately, I avoided a hit from 3 more mafiosos who were lying in wait, shot 4 more while they was trying to stage a jailbreak, took on a big horde of Abby over at Carter’s place, and helped Clayton save his wife and children among many more. I’m sure there’s more I can add to the list, but them’s the highlights right there, which ain’t all too shabby for a man with only one hand to him. Add to this the fact that I might be a daddy myself soon enough, and I should be over the moon.
So why aren’t I? I’m happy in the moment, like when I’m with Josie and Noora, playing with Chrissy and Elodie, or sitting around drinking coffee and doing math with Mr. Mueller and Kevin. End of the day though? When I’m about to fall asleep and alone with my thoughts? I think about everything I done lost, and how I would give almost anything to get it back again.
It’s just a hand. Ain’t much. Maybe 1 or 2 % in total body weight. Hardly anything. I’d lose more sweating out in the summer heat on a desert hunt, so why can’t I move past this? Why can’t I just slap on a prosthetic and get on with my life? Carter, Luisa, Clayton, the boots, they all think I’m aces, saying I got this and calling me a Jaguar Warrior, but me, all I can fixate on is how I can’t be the best there is no more.
As I am, the only thing I’ll ever be is ‘good enough’, which ain’t much of a hook to hang your hat on, now is it? There goes Howie. He a good enough gunfighter and Spellslinger, but think of what he could do with two hands.
Uncle Teddy can read my inner conflict on my face, but he don’t got nothing to say, so I throw him a lifeline and give him something else to think on. “Just been a little lost, you know?” I say, gesturing at nothing in the air, only to belatedly notice I done it with my right hand. “Don’t know what the future has in store for me, what I’m supposed to be working towards.” Or rather, I know what I should be doing, namely getting ready to be a father and husband, instead of whining that I can’t be no vagrant no more. “Spent so long working to be the Firstborn, I don’t rightly know who I am without that.”
Which if anything hurts Uncle Teddy most of all, and it takes him a hot minute to recover. “A crisis of self,” he says, reaching over to pat my hand. “A dangerous thing, almost as costly as a crisis of Faith. Your faith has always been in yourself, something others mistake as confidence or even arrogance at times, but that faith got you out of plenty of tight spots before.” A pause, before he adds, “And perhaps into one too many as well.”
There’s a look in his eye, and I can’t bring myself to meet it, because he’s talking about my run in with Ron. I should’ve gone to Tim, Captain Jung, or even Sergeant Begaye. Maybe even should’ve told Marcus about it, but I didn’t say word one because I thought I could handle it. I couldn’t, that much is clear, but I figured that out a touch too late.
Clearing his throat, Uncle Teddy powers on through. “You won’t like hearing what I’m about to say,” he begins, which gets my jimmies a rustling. Not magically, just don’t much like the statement is all, because harsh truths are a tough pill to swallow. If Uncle Teddy, nay, the Marshal himself is gonna tell me to give up and move on, then I got no choice but to, because there ain’t nothing sadder than a soldier who done already lost the fight, yet still thinks he can win.
“When you first showed your aptitude for Spellcasting,” Uncle Teddy says, getting a far off look in his eyes. “I envisioned a future in which the Firstborn would lead the next generation of Rangers to conquer the Frontier. I shared that vision with your father, who believed it even more than I did, because he wanted you to become a shining example for all peoples of the Frontier, including his own. He wanted you to show the Qin Republic that cooperation and integration was possible between our two vastly different nations, and that the Western countries would welcome them with open arms in spite of what the Qin Republic told them.”
“And I done failed you both,” I say, finishing the statement for him right quick, so he don’t gotta struggle through it.
“No son.” There’s a weight to his words, a pull in them that forces me to meet his gaze. “I failed you. I placed all these expectations and obligations upon your young shoulders, and turned a blind eye to how your father pushed you to succeed. He pushed you hard, harder than any child should be, what with the demanding training, exacting standards, and general isolation from other children your age. It’s got you all twisted up now, feeling like you’re nothing unless you’re a soldier, and that just not true.”
“Wasn’t all that bad, and I turned out alright,” I say with a smile, and I mean it, but Uncle Teddy believes otherwise.
“I thought the same,” Uncle Teddy says, exhaling slowly with a shake of his head. “Knew in my heart it was too much for a child to bear, but I saw the results and thought there was no harm being done. I see the harm now though, because instead of acting like a bright and happy young man with his whole life ahead of him, you’re behaving as if you have no future unless you fix what’s wrong with you.”
“Hang on,” I say, frowning now because it sounds like he’s blaming my daddy for my mess, when nothing could be further from the truth. “All that’s on me, not my daddy. Yeah, he pushed me, but only because he knew how tough it’d be out there. Fact is, I find myself reflecting on his lessons more and more lately, because everything he ever taught me still holds true. I just forgot some stuff along the way, and could’ve avoided a whole lot of hardship if I hadn’t.”
Uncle Teddy gives me a look, something between pity and compassion, but that don’t stop him from making his argument. “He cast Fear Spells on you to sharpen your will. Left you in the forest alone and made you find your way home alone. Forced you to jump off the edge of the Divide into the canyon below. Starved you in front of a feast to teach you discipline and restraint. Made you crawl through mud and dirt with live fire overhead. Put you to work 10 hours a day doing construction and labour instead of playing with your sisters and friends. All this and more before you turned 10, mind you. In the old world, that sort of training would be considered neglect at best, and abuse at worse.”
“My daddy never abused me.” The words come out as a growl, and Uncle Teddy’s apologetic look don’t change things none. “He did what he had to do to get me ready for life out here. You think you doin’ those boots any favours by pullin’ your punches? All that means is that they’ll have to learn some lessons the hard way, without no safety net there to catch them. Sure some might not be able to handle the heat, but the same water that hardens the egg also softens the potate. Better for us all to learn early on which one we are.”
“You aren’t entirely wrong, and I’m not saying he wanted to hurt you Howie.” Uncle Teddy’s tone is gentle as can be, but unwavering all the same. “That sort of training was far too much for any child to bear, but I saw the results and believed there was no harm being done.” Stopping cold, he looks me dead in the eyes and says, “I was wrong. The Qin Republic stole your father’s childhood from him, abused and indoctrinated him. Though he broke free of it all, he then did the same to you, because he didn’t know any better. That was how he was taught, so he knew no other way to teach you, but I did. I knew better, and I did nothing to stop him, and now I see the toll it’s taken on you, the harm it’s done and the scars it’s left behind, and I can only thank the Lord that things did not turn out worse.”
Much as I want to defend my daddy and say that I’m fine, the haunted look in Uncle Teddy’s slate grey eyes stills my tongue. Makes him look ten years older, brings out the wrinkles around his eyes and the dark bags beneath them. I can almost see the thoughts circling around his head, of the stories of what I done once I struck out on my own. Hanging a man out my window, then shooting him in the legs because he was about to climb back up. Killing outlaws without warning because they had the audacity to lie in wait to rob me. Threatening to chop feet and cook them, and hang folks from the closest tree, then having to follow through because folks don’t believe me. Most of all, how I murdered a merchant and his three guards then covered up the crime, because I know he don’t buy my line about Wayne having faked that crystal of my confession. There’s a lot more to it, and I don’t know how much Uncle Teddy really knows, because the army got a policy of don’t ask, don’t tell. That’s why he never asked me if that crystal was real, not directly, because he didn’t want to watch me lie to his face.
“I’m sorry son,” he says, and I don’t know how to respond, because in my eyes, he ain’t done nothing wrong. Nor has my daddy, but Uncle Teddy don’t give me time to defend him, just barrels on and says, “I’m not trying to disparage your father. I loved him like a son, and the same goes for you. Whatever happened, happened, and there’s no changing the past, but what I’m trying to say is that I still believe you have it in you Howie. To be the Firstborn your father, and I have always wanted you to be, or be anything your heart desires. You have it in you to excel no matter what path you take, the drive, intelligence, and work ethic to succeed regardless of the obstacles before you.” Pausing to make sure I’m still following, he gives me that look again, all chock full of sorry and guilt. “The thing is, you don’t have to push yourself so hard to get there. I have the utmost confidence in you, so much so that I am asking you to step back and ease off the throttle for a bit.” Smiling, he says, “The Frontier can wait Howie. Enjoy your youth while you can. Spend more time with Josie, and yes, Noora and Elodie too. Go to the range with the other boots, and put them in their place on the obstacle course. Make happy memories along the way, because you are only young once, and if you spend all your youthful years worrying and preparing for the future, then you might find yourself with nothing besides regrets when you get there.”
Which is the end of our lesson, after I hug it out with Uncle Teddy and finally tell him that he ain’t got nothing to be sorry about. He don’t believe it though, I can see that much, so I put ‘visit more often just for the sake of visiting’ onto the list, because he ain’t just my Mentor. He’s family, and ain’t nothing ever gonna change it.
That said, I still got a bellyful of ire over what was said, because my daddy wasn’t wrong to teach me the way he did. Sure it was harsh, but better to sit through his harsh lessons rather than the Frontier’s. The Frontier won’t hold me close while I’m having a nightmare, or shadow me in secret to make sure I don’t come to harm while I’m lost. Won’t take me out for an ice cream after a long day of training, or wrap his arms around me and tell me how there ain’t nothing to fear so long as you stay ready and prepared. Those the lessons my daddy taught me, lessons I should’ve paid more attention to, because if I did, then I wouldn’t be having none of the problems I got in the here and now.
Whatever my issues, I got no one to blame but myself, and won’t no one, not even Uncle Teddy, tell me different.
