“What you seein’ right now?”

  A loaded question if Tina ever heard one, and she knew better than to answer carelessly. For more reasons than one, because at this very moment, she saw that Howie spoiling for a fight. Physical or verbal, it didn’t seem much like he cared, else he wouldn’t be setting her up for failure. It was his tried-and-true teaching method, to ask her a question he knew she couldn’t answer so he could pick it apart and tell her all the ways she was wrong. He learned it from his daddy, but Uncle Ming’s delivery was always calm and neutral as he guided you to the right answer yourself. In contrast? Howie’s brusque and cantankerous tones made it seem like he just wanted to lord his knowledge over you, even though he just really wanted to make sure you knew everything there was to know.

  That’s how it was, because Howie wouldn’t bother playing these word games if he didn’t want Tina to learn. Showed in how he pretty much ignored Errol and Sarah Jay during the second half of their training mission up to Pleasant Dunes, because he done already wrote them both off and didn’t see no point in teaching. That’s just how Tina’s sorta-brother was, a taciturn, unsociable sort whose direct manner of speaking could come off as haughty or even downright rude. Was a quick 180 from the big smiles and affable guise he put on in past years, playing the part of the bright and cheery Firstborn here to help however he could. Didn’t do what he needed though, as it still got him in all sorts of trouble, so he dropped it of late, except he’d forgotten how his regular self got him into even more trouble, like with Dave down at the docks or Stan at the procurement office.

  No helping it though. Howie had his mind made and was dead set on being a crusty curmudgeon, and wasn’t nothing Tina could say about catching flies with sugar or honey to change his mind. He wasn’t asking about himself though, not as he sat up on Fifi’s back and looked out over the ridge at the badlands unfolding before them. Had his left arm stretched out and palm facing forward as he beamed his Detect Aberration Spell out into the ether, sweeping up, down, left, and right to cover as much ground as possible and make sure he didn’t miss a single thing.

  All while looking gruff and grouchy as can be mind you, like he didn’t wanna be here despite riding out into the badlands every chance he got to hunt Abby all by his lonesome with no one to watch his back. That’s what worried Tina more than anything; the fact that he was so alone out here. Even the Watchtower operators weren’t none too friendly, though they’d only come across the two so far. The second didn’t get into it with Howie like the first did, but getting a proper situation report outta him was like pulling teeth, and Howie acted like it was business as usual. What would happen then if he got into trouble out here? Didn’t seem like anyone would go out of their way to help him, and didn’t seem like he much cared, yet he'd been out this way 5 times since he was Exiled. Sometimes just for a day or 3, but his longest trip was his most recent one where he went a full 11 days before checking back in over the radio, because he done hunted down a powerful Evoker Bug and scored himself a Lightning Beam Spell Core.

  Which he still hadn’t sold, because he done gone and had a falling out with Uncle Teddy and refused to sell to the Rangers direct anymore. Fool of a man, Howie was, putting his pride above all else and acting like he wanted nothing to do with the Federal Government no more. Asking a Ranger to turn in Spell Cores was the easiest way to sell them, because they got a fair shake from the Army appraisers, while government contractors like Stan made their living by buying low from hunters like Howie and selling high to the Feds.

  Then again, it wasn’t like there were all that many Rangers friendly with Howie these days. His own fault mostly, but not entirely, as there were plenty who unjustly blamed him for what went down in Pleasant Dunes. Three Rangers died after all, two by Howie’s own hand even, though Wayne and Conner were deserving of it after standing idly by as them outlaws brutalized and mutilated him. Course, no one knew that for a fact, and while those present all stated that Marcus’ death wasn’t on Howie, the stigma of three dead Rangers was still enough to get folks to grumbling, while others harboured suspicions that Tina knew all too well were true.

  Add in his very public falling out with Uncle Teddy and his Exile from town and Howie had good reason to be sour in general, but that didn’t mean he had to cut ties with anyone and everyone outside of family.

  There was no helping it though, because Mama had already tried talking sense into him several times, and every time he’d nodded along without argument before continuing on in the same manner after the fact. Much as Tina wanted to hash it out with him, this wasn’t the time or place, as Howie was asking about what she saw out in the badlands, which to be honest, wasn’t much. Jagged ridges like the spinal columns of mammoth beasts mostly, interspersed amongst countless dry and lifeless basins whose floors were covered in dust or pedipalps. Wind carved stone formations standing like aged sentinels bearing scars from years of rough living, and dark shadows stretch out over the broken, uneven ground, like shattered pottery sprinkled around deep fissures that opened up out of nowhere and trailed out in all directions.

  Howie would want tactical information though, stuff like good routes to take, possible threats to avoid, and defensible positions they could fall back to in case of Abby attack, so she answered as best she could. “That winding ridge there makes for good cover from the north,” she began, resisting the urge to check his reaction as she pointed it out. Wouldn’t help anyways, as Howie had his poker face on, all stony and impassive save for a faint hint of irritation. That wasn’t what he was feeling, just what most would read from his expression, his resting B face as someone less generous might call it, and Tina wouldn’t entirely disagree.

  He wouldn’t care to hear it though, so she stuck to the facts and proposed a route along the edge of said ridge, keeping to the low ground to avoid exposure and showing their silhouettes to everyone within a dozen klicks. Mentioned the loose gravel and shifting dirt as hazards to be wary of, as well as the shade the ridge would provide to keep them out of the sun’s glare. Would be a little colder, but that’d keep the horses from sweating too much as they toiled all the livelong day, and there’d be risk of ambush up ahead since they wouldn’t be able to see as far in most directions. The basins all seemed rife with pedipalps, so she suggested avoiding them wherever they could, though that didn’t seem all that possible given how many of them there were, and that was all she could come up with then and there.

  “You sure that’s a good route?” Howie asked, and there was something in his delivery that told Tina that it wasn’t, but she couldn’t see why that’d be. He let her stew in her ignorance for a long minute before pointing at the closest visible fissure, which wasn’t nothing more than a deep, dark crack in the ground measure less than a foot across. Was right in the path of the route she’d picked out, but the horses could step over it easy, and the wagon could roll over if Cowie took it slow and steady. “That fissure ain’t natural,” he said, putting to rest all of Tina’s arguments before she could even voice them, and she did a double take to try and see what he saw.

  Which wasn’t anything she could’ve seen, because he went on to explain, “Fact is, most fissures here ain’t. They’re exit points for Ankhravs lurkin’ down in the depths. You seen one before?” Tina shook her head, so Howie explained, “They’re the next step up from Swarmers and Spitters, a mix of the two really. Built like armoured slugs with six thick legs, they start out about the size of a pony only twice as wide and ten thousand times uglier. Got a thick shell chock full of Aberrtin and two front legs that can burrow through stone like butter. Blind as bats too, so they spend their days burrowed under dark with the earth all around them so they can use their Tremorsense to feel vibrations in the ground to pinpoint their prey. Soon as we step foot down on that low ground, any nearby Ankhravs will head towards the closest fissure and wait for us to pass, then burst out of the side and pull us into their tunnel, which will collapse behind them and cut off any hope of escape.”

  Tina’s eyes went wide as she imagined the weight of so much dirt pressing in all around her, and she shuddered to think what might happen after the fact. Getting eaten alive would be a blessing, even if it didn’t sound much like one, because things would be so much worse if the Ankhrav dragged you back to its Proggie alive and kicking. “So what are we supposed to do?” she asked, eyeing the fissure anew and clocking each and every one in sight. “All that dirt is enough to block your Detect Abby beam, and we can’t possibly avoid every fissure from here to the Divide.” Which was pretty much just a bigger fissure, though canyon was the technical term for it.

  “Well,” Howie drawled, giving her a little shrug as he did, “The good news is that being so big, Ankhravs tend to give themselves away when they close to the surface. Watch for bulging trails of dirt, like a shark’s fin coming out the water in all them shows we seen. They move fast underground, but not as fast as we do above it, so ain’t all that bad. What’s more, they got armoured backs, but soft bellies which they tend to expose when emerging from the ground, which gives you a good opening to Blast them down. You wanna do that quick, because their go-to attack once they’ve missed the grab is rear their slug heads back before spitting out a stream of Acid, Fire, Frost, or Electric. You can tell which it’ll be by the Etches on their shells, so keep an eye out for that.”

  They’d be colour coded with what you’d expect, namely green, red, blue, and yellow. It happened like that due to the colour Aether glowed when infused with Elemental properties, as opposed to Proggies being sportsmanlike and labelling their creations so people would know what they were up against. Wouldn’t do Tina much good though, because she didn’t have any Spells protecting against Elemental damage. Made her understand why Howie rode around with the Whumper despite having the Judges strapped behind his waist; the bigger gun shot in the same calibre, but it was set to a narrower spread that’d reach much farther, meaning he could hit a single Abby at mid range with every last kinetic shard coming out his barrel and shred it in an instant.

  “Ankhrav are high value ambush predators,” Howie said, gesturing for Tina to follow him down the ridge as he explained, “So there aren’t a whole lot of them, especially compared to Swarmlings and Spitters. Even Behemoth Beetles are cheaper to produce, so ain’t many Ankhrav this far west, but not many ain’t none, so it’s still something to consider when picking your route.”

  “So my route would’ve worked then?” Tina asked, picking up what he wasn’t putting down but rather glossing over.

  “Might could,” Howie replied, allowing her that much before cutting her to the quick. “Could take any route you like really, but just because fate don’t make you pay for your mistakes doesn’t mean you made good decisions. Besides, Swarmlings and Spitters can do the same thing; they just gotta be more patient about it, so who’s to say there ain’t a fistful of Abby lying down there in wait?” Gesturing up at the opposite ridgeline, he continued, “Better to stay high and risk being seen from afar, because most Bug Abby got terrible vision, and there ain’t much other traffic around these parts. The exception would be Burrow Hulks, which are somethin’ like a cross between a beetle and gorilla. Walk around on two legs it does, with big ol’ bug eyes, pinching, foot-long mandibles, thick armoured hides, and thick, powerful arms strong enough to punch through solid Darksteel or hurl stones hard and heavy enough to pulp a man when they hit.”

  “But they also high value, right?” Tina asked, glancing around just to make sure there weren’t no Abby waiting in ambush. Then again, if Howie couldn’t spot them, there was no chance Tina could one up him and do better, but she still felt better for it. “So there aren’t too many of them around these parts then.”

  “Comparatively speaking, yeah,” Howie replied. Turning to give her a measured look, he stressed, “Comparatively. Keep in mind, we hauled sixty-eight Spitters and Swarmlings from that one fight, not to mention three Beetle Behemoths and two-dozen or so Drones.”

  “A good hunt,” Tina exclaimed, nodding her head proudly.

  “Was barely an a-moose booshe,” Howie retorted, flashing a rare hint of a smile as he mangled the French on purpose. Mostly because his attempts to say it proper weren’t much better, but Tina let it slide as Howie continued, “That was a forward post, one lightly staffed and set up to fail because it keeps us busy all the same. Those four kinds of Abby we killed? All chaff and fodder. Meat for the meat grinder because them Proggies done learned that we hit hard, but not all that fast. Sure a Fireball can clear out a good number of Swarmlings, and Flamethrower or Flaming Cloud can handle even more over time, but there’s counterplay there as them Swarmlings can spread out to come at us in waves or approach from multiple angles. Aint much to do when their high value Abby get sniped from a hundred fifty metres out, now is there? So them Proggies have adapted, developed smaller, cheaper Abby designed to overcome our strengths. Swarmlings to distract, Spitters to keep our heads down, Ankhegs to ambush, and Burrow Hulks who lie in wait with Tremorsense while their allies coral prey towards them. That’s the greatest strength of Ferals; their ability to create a diverse lineup that each specialize in one or two things, but come together to cover each others weaknesses while amplifying their strengths.”

  Though it all made perfect sense, Tina couldn’t help but frown to hear it. “Beetle Behemoths are chaff?” She asked, unable to wrap her head around why Proggies would make such a big but feeble meat shield.

  “Sure,” Howie replied. “Big, scary, and can tank a lot of small arms fire. They’re pushovers now that we got things like Compressors for Blastguns or high-caliber, semi-automatic rifles, but when I first started riding solo, I’d have to break out a Molotov to bring a down Beetle without breaking the bank, or run it through a couple traps and tripwires. You saw how they mostly hollow? Just a big frame with meat painted on and an empty interior? They use that empty space to store biomass and carry it back under dark, or sometimes even swallow a dozen or two Swarmlings or worse to spew out on an unsuspecting enemy after they dead.”

  …No wonder he went down into the basin himself to collect them Abby corpses. That’s all Tina needed, the image of Swarmlings bursting out of a fat, juicy Beetle Behemoth that she done already thought was dead. Howie wasn’t done yet though, because the Ferals of the Divide were a diverse bunch, and he took great delight in describing all them bugs. Like the Borer Roaches designed to carve through stone and steel, or Roly-Poly Bursters that curled up into balls to get around and exploded into bursts of Elemental spray on death. The stealthy Razorscythes were a threat everyone had heard about, but few had ever seen since they could camouflage themselves to blend into their surroundings while bounding about on two powerful legs like glowhoppers through a field of grass. Add in their giant honking scythes which passed for hands and you got a thing of nightmares that Mama once described as a praying mantis on steroids, and Tina wasn’t looking forward to finding out what that meant.

  “Heard talk of a new flavour of bug too,” Howie continued, paying no mind to how green in the gills Tina was getting. “Doomspitter is the working name so far, and it’s pretty much what you’d imagine. A Behemoth Spitter, about three times bigger than the Ankhrav even, with a whole bunch of extra legs to support all its weight. It’s a fat bug, all bloated and thick, so it don’t move fast at all, but it got a spitting attack that can launch Elemental globules over a klick away or so I’m told. Might see some of them next year come Spring, so be on the lookout if you up on them walls when the horde comes a knockin’.”

  Howie almost sounded excited, probably because all he could see was dollar signs since a Behemoth like that would be chock full of Aberrtin and Spell Cores. Might even have some magical materials to harvest from its flesh, something home-grown and Aetherically infused by the Proggies in order to create a powerful, long-ranged Abby like the Doomspitter, because it didn’t sound like it was using any Spell to launch its attacks. A full klick was longer than any known Spell could manage in terms of range, with the Third Order Evocation Spell Bombard holding the record for longest range at 100m base, and that there was a man-made Spell developed for the sole purpose of long-range warfare. Had to sacrifice quite a bit in order to get that range too, because while Fireball ‘only’ had a 50m base range, it hit a whole lot harder and faster with a wider area of effect to boot. As for ‘natural’ Spells, as in ones with Spell Cores, the longest natural range went to the Second Order Lance, which was pretty much a super fancy Bolt that went out to 80 metres instead of 40. Either way, this meant the Doomspitter might well be worth its weight in gold once dead, assuming you could haul it away after the fact, because Magical Materials could be repurposed into all sorts of useful tech, stuff that’d have Howie and Danny salivating to get their hands on.

  Not that it mattered to Tina. While working as a Ranger, all her kills belonged to the Federal Government. A fair trade considering they done trained and equipped her with stuff money couldn’t buy, like her Merlin 45 or her Spell-storing Bracers which she’d finally Attuned to this morning while walking her patrol. They’d house and feed her too when sent out on deployment, all on top of a pretty decent salary that’d kick in soon as training was done come January, and she was looking forward to that first paycheck even if she didn’t have nothing in mind to spend it on.

  Howie done already made her a hair dryer, one that worked wonders and was painted baby blue just for her. Had a violet one for Chrissy and red for mama too, but he built them because Tina had said she wanted one which showed he’d been listening when she said it. That’s what made him the best brother a girl could ask for, the way he paid attention to the details and did something about it.

  A thought she used to distract herself as Howie continued outlining all the ways Abby of the badlands could kill her. Wasn’t all bugs out here either. There were multiple swarms of Proggie lurking out in the Divide, with the Feral bugs being the strongest faction, but them others weren’t no slouches either. The one that produced Harpies was supposedly out here, and there were the Glassmaws, crystalline Abby reminiscent of lizards that were a more active down south. Cliffstriders were goat-like Abby that charged headlong towards you, and there were the Gargoyles too, stoney, winged Abby that couldn’t fly but moved deceptively fast across the ground and could take a real beating before going down. Carrion Curs, Stranglethorns, Gorebuzzards, Razorspines, and more, there were a whole diverse slew of Abby out here in the badlands, all of whom were dangerous as can be in all sorts of different ways, and Howie had hardly covered even half of the ones Tina already knew about by the time they made it back to the wagon.

  “The thing you really missed though,” Howie continued, without missing a beat the whole ride back, “Was the watchtower roof poking out over the ridge yonder. We comin’ up on the last outpost between us and the mesa, meaning chances of seeing anyone else in the next two weeks are slim to none.” Giving Tina a look that said she ought to pay more attention, Howie asked, “They cover Radio etiquette with you yet? If so, hop on the call and let ‘em know we here.”

  Silly as it might sound, Tina was all too excited to ride up alongside Mama and hop onto the side of the driver’s carriage. Saw Howie do it just yesterday, and Mama didn’t bat an eye, but she hit Tina with a glare that said she ought to know better. Ignoring the mutters about ‘breaking her fool neck’, Tina reached past Mama to open up the panel and get at the Radio mic inside. Took her a little longer to find the power switch, but fumbled the frequency dial when she did, which led to a whole awkward interaction where she had to climb halfway in while Mama held her legs so Tina could work the dials and get the Radio ready again.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  All while Howie glowered disapprovingly from the side, in between flashing smiles at Chrissy and promising to bring her out for a ride soon enough. Wasn’t fair how sweet and caring he was with her, even bringing her out for a ride earlier where he probably smiled the whole time instead of lecturing her ears off about her Spells and skills both. Wasn’t like this was the first time he’d shown his bias though, nor would it be the last, so Tina just had to pout and bear it.

  Soon as the Radio was ready, she pulled herself out with help from Mama, then pressed the button on the mic to hail the watchtower. “Civilian Outrider to – ,” she began, only to cut herself off when she realized she didn’t know the watchtower’s designation. Was written on the roof in big white numbers, but she hadn’t seen it because Howie didn’t point it out until they go back. Shooting him a glare for setting her up to fail, Tina met his gaze, then backed down immediately, because wasn’t his fault she forgot to ask. Rather than chide her then and there, Howie held up a single finger and Tina got back to her call. “Civilian Outrider to Station One, Civilian Outrider to Station One, do you copy, over.”

  The response came back as soon as she let go of the mic. The Ranger on the other end sounded downright cheery as he acknowledged her hail, even though he’d probably been out here for days, if not weeks with only one other person to keep him company for brief moments between shifts. Might well be why he was happy for the conversation, but the folks in the first two Watchtowers they done already passed were less than cordial with Howie, so that might have something to do with it too. Granted, nothing changed in the Ranger’s tone after Tina gave him their designations, including Howie’s infamous Callsign of Firstborn.

  Was a time when he’d puff up all proud to hear it, but these days, you’d be lucky if he didn’t make a sour face. Never called himself the Firstborn either, not outside of Radio calls, even though he used to go around saying it as often as he could. “Firstborn son of this here Frontier,” he’d say, usually after telling the whole story of how his daddy met the Marshal out here in the badlands on the day of his birth. December 30th, 1989, the first child born on the whole Frontier as far as anyone could tell. Could be a kid older than he was somewhere far past the Divide, or maybe on a different continent they had yet to connect with, but for now at least, Howie was the oldest person around under the age of thirty.

  Tina couldn’t quite place when Howie had stopped taking pride in being the Firstborn, but it broke her heart to see it. He used to embody the role, working hard to be everyone’s big brother and role model like Uncle Teddy and Uncle Ming wanted for him, but now he didn’t seem to care about much of anything anymore. Ever since his Exile, there was no talk of starting up a crew and one day clearing out a Proggie Nest all by his lonesome. Didn’t talk about buying new guns, crafting new tech, or even mention adding a second or third wagon to haul cargo and Abby around. Hadn’t even decided on what he’d do with Samosa’s calf due this spring, only that he’d been reconsidering his arrangement with the Rangers to sell all his Magical Cattle to them. He’d been on a fair few hunts testing his new Mage Hands and Wildshape Ability both, but he didn’t talk much about what he meant to do next.

  Wasn’t like him to go at life without a plan, but that’s how he’d been these last few months. Here’s hoping this trip to the mesa would set him right, get him in the right headspace after Josie’s death and back on track to being the Firstborn again, but Tina didn’t know what they’d do if it didn’t.

  All of which went through her head as she kept track of what Station One was telling her. “Lot of Abby activity in the last twenty-four hours, threat level high. Best guess is because a group of mercs got into it with a band of Abby around oh three hundred this morning. Looks like they’ll swing by your way within the next hour or so. Had themselves a long and drawn-out showdown, so be warned they will be jumpy. Also reports of increased activity coming in from the south over the last week. Reasons unknown. Multiple swarms spotted moving above ground. Signs of multiple conflicts, Abby against persons unknown. Subjects appear to be heading due north along the Divide, so BOLO for trouble out there.”

  There was some more stuff, like incoming inclement weather and unverified sightings of big Abby moving about. Was a fair bit more detailed and helpful than the sit reps from the first two watchtowers they’d come in contact with, and Howie took notes in his Spellbook while Tina did the same. “All in all, situation FUBAR. Bad time for a family trip,” the Watchtower concluded. “Advise you turn around and head home for the holidays, over.”

  Glancing at Howie for the proper response, he simply shrugged, so Tina gave the operator the same. “Songbird to Watchtower, Songbird to Watchtower, I copy. Situation FUBAR, proceeding forward regardless.” With one last glance at Howie to make sure nothing else needed to be said, she added, “Over and out.”

  Soon as Tina hung up, Mama raised her voice in complaint. “Ain’t right adding a word like that to the lexicon,” she grumbled, smoothing Chrissy’s hair like harsh language would keep her awake at night. “Ain’t right at all.”

  Not entirely understanding, Tina frowned and asked, “You mean FUBAR? What’s so bad about Fouled Up Beyond All Repair?”

  “Oh, darlin’,” Mama said, in that tone she used for when the kiccaws made a mess of something. Reaching out to pat Tina’s cheek, Mama smiled and added, “You right. Ain’t nothing bad about it at all.”

  Didn’t take much to figure out what the F in FUBAR really stood for, and her cheeks went red in embarrassment. Howie chuckled to hear it though, and called for a stop so they could have a late lunch and water the horses. Cowie too of course, who lapped up his bucket of water in record time while Howie checked his hooves and Tina checked on the horses. Wasn’t just rocks to worry about; the Bugs of the badlands had a set of pint-sized blood-suckers called Tethermites that’d latch onto your flesh and grow fat as a tick while leaving an Aetheric trail behind for bigger, scarier Abby to follow. Horse hooves were a prime place for those bugs to hide, so Tina took extra care checking all four horses with Howie while he quizzed her on what lay ahead.

  “So what you think was the key takeaway from the sitrep?” Howie asked, once again setting her up to fail so he could tell her all the ways she was wrong.

  “The mercenaries,” Tina replied, only to be rewarded with a knowing nod. Easy to guess why, since Howie always said people were more dangerous than Abby, which was why he didn’t go joining any established mercenary groups out there. That and because they undervalued him, but only because he kept his cards close to the vest. Even though folks knew he played a big part in what went down in Pleasant Dunes and Brightpick both, there was a big leap between ‘Amazing Gunfighter’ and ‘Bonafide Magus with Fireball’, and so far, the public only knew about the former.

  Crazy to think that Howie went and took on the Mafia without revealing all the cards in his hand. That was by design too, because he didn’t want no one knowing his was a Magus with Fireball just yet. Was still a restricted Spell, meaning most mercenary groups didn’t have access to the Spell Formula, or had to pay black market dealers a fortune to obtain it. Easier to go after Howie instead and strongarm him into teaching them, whether he wanted to or not. Most mercs would’ve stepped lightly back when Howie was still the golden child, but these days, he was clearly on the outs with the Rangers and Uncle Teddy both, meaning most would see him as fair game.

  Hence why the mercenaries were the key takeaway. Even the Watchtower tried to warn them, mentioning how they’d be ‘jumpy’. Since they were headed their way, the best solution was to not be here when they arrived, which was why Howie called for a break now so the horses would be fresh in case of a chase. Not that he expected to get into a gunfight with mercenaries out in the badlands, but like he always said, better to be safe than sorry.

  When they got going once again, Howie left the Radio on and tuned into an open channel. Chrissy didn’t like that much, nor did Mama, as the tuning in his tech was old and out of date, meaning it gave off a high-pitched ring reminiscent of the Mindspire’s droning Dissonant Whistle. Only happened on the open channel, because of how open channels worked, but Howie couldn’t hear it, so he didn’t know it would happen until they told him. Said it was probably the shielding, but that he couldn’t fix it until he got home, so he apologized that they’d have to bear with it for the next hour at least. He didn’t lead Tina out ranging ahead either, and instead rode alongside the wagon and chatted with Chrissy to keep her mind off the incessant droning.

  Rather than the route Tina laid out, Howie brought them along the top of the ridge, but not so high up that they’d be seen. Made for some tough terrain, what with how gravelly and crumbly the hills and paths were, with whole waves of dirt and pebbles just sliding down as they passed. Made Tina worry the ridge would crumble underfoot and send them crashing down below, but Howie didn’t look the least bit nervous as he chatted along with Chrissy and told her all about how the kiccaws were faring living up in the quay with him.

  Every few minutes, he’d ride Sunshine up to the ridge and stretch his arm out to beam his Detect Aberration Spell for a bit, then come back and resume his conversation. Did it for the next hour or so, and Tina thought nothing of it until he called for a stop in the lee of a ridge and waved for her to follow him up. “Bring your rifle,” he said as he swung his leg over Sunshine and dismounted. “Keep you scope capped.”

  Was only one reason to do so, which is why Tina was hardly surprised when she crawled to the top of the ridge alongside him and spotted a convoy of five wagons rolling off in the distance. They was at least 4 klicks away with maybe a dozen riders moving alongside, the mercs the Watchtower warned them about, on a collision course with Tina’s previously picked out route. “They’re rolling right over the fissures,” she grumbled, feeling downright indignant seeing them do what Howie just made her feel stupid for suggesting.

  “That they are,” Howie replied, keeping his voice low and hushed. “Now keep watching.”

  Tina laid there for a good minute eying the band of mercs roll by, until her impatience got the better of her and she asked, “So what exactly am I supposed to be watchin’ for?”

  “The reason why we avoid them fissures,” Howie replied. He said it so matter-of-fact, all dry and lacking emotion that it took Tina a long second to figure out what he meant.

  And when she did, she felt a chill run down her spine as she turned to face him. “You sayin’ they walkin’ into an ambush?”

  “I believe so,” Howie replied, pointing at a fissure some 2 or 3 hundred metres ahead of the mercenary convoy. “Clocked at a good few high value Abby moving about while we was up on the ridge, all converging towards somethin’ in the distance that wasn’t us. I’m guessin’ they’re gonna be sittin’ pretty round about that fissure there, along with a whole host of Bugs that been scurryin’ about all mornin’ only to disappear underground about a half-klick north of here.”

  “Then why don’t you warn them?” Tina asked, unable to understand why Howie would be so blasé about watching folks move headlong towards disaster.

  “Three reasons.” Holding up his index finger to count them off, Howie said, “First off, I ain’t certain them Abby be goin’ for those mercs. I’m pretty sure, but you never know, so I can’t offer any proof besides a gut feelin’.” Raising a second finger, he continued, “Secondly, even if I do warn them, they won’t take it kindly. Think about it from their perspective. Stranger calls in over the open airwaves saying they got eyes on you and that you walking in to an Abby ambush. You just gonna take him at his word, especially if you got your own Scout who don’t sense nothin’ up ahead? Or you gonna wonder if he got ulterior motives? Maybe he tryin’ to spook you for no reason, or maybe he wants to lead you into an actual ambush, one with people and guns instead of Abby. They just scored big with a hunt remember. Fight was three this morning, but they only making it back now, with five heavy wagons no less. That was nine, ten hours ago, but the fight took place close enough for the Watchtower to clock it. Couldn’t have been all that far away, and you don’t strike camp to sleep next to a battle site, so why they only making it back now?”

  Because they done spent all night and all morning cooking Abby, and they still had corpses enough to weigh their wagons down. No wonder the Watchtower said they scored big, and it also explained why Abby would come a hunting. Them mercs had done kicked the hornet’s nest, and while they managed to emerge victorious in battle, round two was coming up and they had no idea their bell was about to be rung.

  All the more reason for Howie to warn them, but he was ready and waiting with his third reason. “Lastly,” he said, turning to look Tina dead in the eyes with a tired look that spoke volumes to the weight of experience. “Whether they listen to my warning or not, they won’t be grateful for it. Either I’m wrong and they won’t be attacked, at which point they’ll blame me for makin’ them sweat, or I’m right and any survivors will say I should’ve done more to convince them, or maybe even gone out and helped them.”

  “You couldn’t have told the Watchtower at least?” It hurt to see Howie be so callous and uncaring, because those were people down there, people he thought might well be in danger and wasn’t doing nothing about it.

  “They knew already,” Howie replied. “Threat level high remember? That’s not high in general, but high for the badlands, which is high enough to begin with even on a low threat level day. That Ranger up in that tower probably knows more about Abby movement than I do, and he ain’t squawkin’ on open channels to warn them mercs either. You know why?”

  Tina shook her head, because she thought the whole point of being a Ranger was to protect folks from Abby. Sensing she was taking this hard, Howie’s expression softened as he pursed his lips and sighed, stopping to think of how to best phrase it. “Because what are we gonna tell them?” Howie asked, gesturing over at the convoy in helpless frustration. “You think they don’t know Abby might be comin’ after them? That’s how it is out here. You go loud, then you get gone quick as you can, but they got greedy and stayed behind to pick up all the scraps, and now they’re probably gonna pay for it. Maybe I could save them, and maybe I can’t, but why should I go out and risk my hide when they done brung this disaster down on themselves? I got an inkling of where them Abby might be, but that’s all it is, and like I said, they won’t thank me if I’m wrong, and might even rush headlong into the trap if they think I’m tryin’ to rob ‘em.”

  Heaving a long sigh, Howie shook his head and turned back to watch the convoy in the distance. “So watch and learn Songbird. Out here in the badlands, you can’t take safety for granted, because every fissure, basin, crevice, and ridge could have Abby lurking underneath.”

  Though unconvinced, Tina didn’t pick herself up and rush down to the wagon to hail the convoy over the Radio. She just did as Howie said and watched with bated breath as the convoy approached the fated fissure. When the first rider hopped went over, she closed her eyes tight, but since Howie didn’t make any noise, she opened them again a half second later and relaxed when she saw nothing untoward happening. No Ankhravs coming out of the fissures, no Beetle Behemoths erupting out of the ground to spew Swarmlings out into the air, no Spitters scurrying out of the shadows to take the high ground on the ridges above the convoy. A few riders went over the fissure, then the first wagon followed suit, going slow so as not to drop in too fast and get the wheels wedged in tight. Then the second wagon rolled over the fissure in the same manner, followed shortly after by the third.

  Blowing out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, Tina turned on Howie with a glare and smacked his shoulder lightly. “You made that up, didn’t you?” she hissed, careful not to let her anger get the better of her even though there wasn’t no real ambush to worry about. “You said all that and made me think they was gonna be attacked so I’d remember all that stuff you said about keeping to the ridges.” Stopping in her tracks as she saw Howie’s expression, one that was grim as could be and not at all amused, Tina asked, “You did right?”

  She hoped that he did, but her hopes were crushed when he simply shook his head and kept watching. So Tina turned back to the convoy just in time to see the muzzle flash from afar. Wasn’t just one muzzle flash either, but a whole slew of them as dust clouds billowed up from around the convoy and Abby emerged from under dark. Popping the cap off her rifle scope, Tina peered down into the lens only to see darkness on the other end, because Howie had stretched his hand out to cover it up. “You don’t want to look too closely,” he said, again, with all the weight of his experience behind him. “You see that there?”

  Tina turned to look as Howie pointed off in the distance, and it took some doing to see what he was talking about. It wasn’t Spitters moving up to the ridge like she’d envisioned; it was Burrow Hulks, or at least that’s what she assumed seeing how they was the only bipedal Bugs Howie had mentioned. When they reached the top of the ridge, they started hurling stones down on the convoy in what could only be a rain of carnage for those caught below. “Top of the ridge,” Howie said, as if she wasn’t already staring right at it. “Not the Burrow Hulks,” he added, leaning over to point so she could look down his finger and see what it is he wanted her to see. “That haze there? You see it?”

  Choking back a gasp, Tina raised her rifle to look down the scope, and this time Howie didn’t stop her. The haze was clearer through the 3.5x scope, but still distant enough that the 6ft tall Burrow Hulks fit neatly inside the rounded reticle. Was good enough for her though as she narrowed her eye and dispersed the Illusion she was looking at to reveal a towering, insectoid horror that looked like nothing she’d ever seen before. It’s four legs were reverse jointed and spread out at ninety-degree angles from one another, two at the back that went straight out to the side and two at the front that were bent like a man sitting on a chair without the chair there to support him. Its elongated torso stretched far out behind it, while the front half bent sharply upwards in the centigaur fashion, where it had a second thorax and upper body sat atop it, with two massive arms bearing wickedly curved serrated scythes.

  Worst of all was its unnatural poise, hunched yet ready to spring into action as its bulbous, trapezoid head swiveled about with unnatural precision. It didn’t pan its head from one side to the other, but locked onto a target then jumped to the next, then the next, moving and stopping in a jarring and stilted fashion.

  And when its head popped up to lock eyes with Tina from more than 4 klicks away, she jolted upright and broke contact right quick. “It saw me,” she whispered, barely able to believe it herself. “I was lookin’ at it through the scope, and it saw me from that far away.”

  “Should’ve warned you,” Howie said, patting her shoulder not to reassure, but to indicate it was time to get up and go. “Razorscythes get jittery when someone sees through their stealth. It didn’t see you, so much as sense you lookin’ at its true self.”

  Pushing herself up to her feet to follow Howie back down to the wagon, Tina asked, “Can they all go Invisible?”

  “Ain’t Invisibility per se,” Howie replied, shaking his head as he double timed it down the ridge. “Far as anyone knows, Razorscythes can only camouflage using an Ability, throwing up an Illusion to blend in with their surroundings instead of going fully Invisible. They’re pretty easy to spot if you know what to look for, but they can also tell when someone sees through it so they can strike right quick. They rarely stand out in the open like that too, so it’s probably miffed that it spent all morning tracking them mercs and couldn’t get in on the fight.”

  “They were coordinated,” Tina said, glancing back over her shoulder even though the ridge was in the way and wondering if the Razorscythe was headed this way. “Them bugs that is. Behemoths coming out of the ground to distract and block sight lines while Burrow Hulks threw stuff from up above.”

  “While Swarmlings and Spitters scurried around in their midst,” Howie replied. “Told you, didn’t I? Gotta take full advantage of the environment, a lesson Abby done learned by themselves.”

  “You sayin’ they coordinate like that because the survivors trained the rest?” Tina asked. “I thought they needed a Synapse to work together.”

  “Say what you will about Abby,” Howie began, shaking his head as he lowered his voice since they were coming up on the wagon. “But they ain’t dumb. Even without a Synapse, they can work together. A Synapse just makes their teamwork… flawless, for lack of a better word. Like instead of individual Abby, they all part and parcel of one Abby, like various arms, fingers, and talons and whatnot guided by one mind. These Bugs have been around even longer than the greenies up in the Coral Desert, so even if they don’t got the know-how to craft sleds or armour, they a crafting, cunning bunch designed to kill and collect biomass with the utmost efficiency.”

  Grabbing Howie’s arm to stop him in his tracks, Tina asked, “Are they gonna be okay? Them mercenaries?”

  “Maybe,” Howie said, but she could hear the resignation in his voice even though he tried to hide it. “Tough to say, but we ain’t sticking around to find out. I want us gone quick as a blink, and as far as possible before we set camp for the night.” Though he looked ready to turn and go, he paused because he noticed Tina still had something to ask, and he showed the old Howie for a second there. The sweeter, kinder Howie who used to hold her hand too when they went out to the main throughfare and would do all sorts of silly things to make her smile when she was feeling down.

  He was still that Howie for Chrissy, but he’d put up a barrier in front of Tina for reasons she couldn’t understand. The barrier came down though, if only for a minute as he opened up his arms and she fell into his embrace with tears streaming down her cheeks. “They knew what they signed on for,” Howie said, hugging her oh so tight and patting her back. “And ain’t no one can help them now save God. Whether they make it out or not ain’t your concern. What you need to do is learn from their mistakes. Hit and move, and move more than you hit, because effective as the Alpha Strike is, you don’t ever want to be on the receiving end of one.”

  “And what if I am?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper as she tried to imagine what she’d do if caught in those mercenaries’ place. “What do I do then?”

  Howie fell silent and hugged Tina a little longer before drawing back to look her in the eyes. “You fight like hell,” he whispered back, all serious as the grave, “And you do whatever it takes to make it out alive. Don’t be sacrificin’ yourself for your squad. You training to be a Vanguard, not a babysitter or house mother. When things go pear shaped, it’s every man for themselves. Their lives are their own to protect. You look after yours. If that means going Invisible and leaving your friends to die alone instead of dying alongside them when all is lost, then that’s what you do, understood?”

  Tina nodded, and odd duck that he was, Howie smiled to see it. “Atta girl,” he said, patting her arms on both sides like she was the star quarterback needing encouragement to get back on the field after a bad sack. “I’ll say this though. Forget Evocation or Conjuration. In a big pinch like that ambush back there? One of the best ways around it is with Enchantment. A big Psychic Scream might hurt allies and Abby alike, but it’ll send them all running off in random directions, so might be enough to see some of them safe.”

  There it was again, Howie’s incessant push to get Tina to use more Enchantments. Wasn’t like he was wrong to, but she still didn’t like the idea much. Had a lot to chew on though, so she just nodded along and followed him back to mount up and head out on a beeline directly away from the fight. Thankfully, Howie didn’t press the issue, or push her to learn too much about scouting the way forward as he rode alongside the wagon again and chattered about this or that with Chrissy and Mama both.

  So it wasn’t until a full hour later that Tina remembered the other warning the Watchtower had given them, about the increased activity coming from the south and making its way up north along the Divide. Which was where they were headed of course, meaning they were walking right into the thick of things. Howie couldn’t have missed it, but he didn’t seem none too bothered either, the same way he wasn’t none too bothered about them mercenaries back there.

  That was the worst part really. The casual disregard for human life, because that’s what it was. On some level, Tina understood that this was Howie’s way to insulate himself from it all, why he told her not to look too closely and stopped her from scoping out the battle itself. Seen it once, seen it a thousand times, so he couldn’t let it affect him the way it affected her. That’s all it was really, self-preservation, which is why he put it out of mind and moved past it so easily. That’s what Tina told herself at least, all while remembering the rumours and whispers of what folks said about Howie. She loved him like family, because that’s what he was, but there was no denying the truth.

  Because after seeing him like this, all cold and callous as could be, it was all too easy to understand why folks stopped calling him the Firstborn and started calling him the Yellow Devil instead.