It hungered.

  It always hungered.

  Never before had It known satiation. Never before had it wholly partaken of its fill and experienced what lay beyond the empty ache and deep yearning for sustenance. Not nourishment leeched from plant, water, and soil, or the cast-off remnants of Its fallen brethren scattered and left to be scavenged, but warm flesh, salted blood, and delectable essence. All that the prey-things were and could be. All that they had known and could have known. Hot rage and sweet passion. Cold terror and bitter despair. Fleeting sensation and imprecise impression, all found in the essence of the soft and delectable prey-things.

  So It hunted. Stirred its spawn to action, who knew Its hunger as their own, for they were It and It was they, one and the same. They set out across the lands in search of prey, but there was none to be had. With the Radiance in shadow, the soft prey-things had gone away, hidden behind their barricades of wood, steel, and magics. Magics which kept them from It, denied It succor and relief. Only Its spawn could reach them there, pass through those Wards and drink deep of their quarry, and through those spawn, It would know satisfaction.

  Not all were prey to be devoured. Some were potential and possibility. Vessels that represented an opportunity for It to pass through the veil that separated It from Its prey. A worthy host to inhabit, to become greater than the sum of their parts. One such vessel presented itself earlier, prey whose essence was so entwined with the veil there was almost no distinction to be had, yet still weak enough to be taken without risking all existence. If It had this vessel, It could then pass through to the Not-Void in safety and finally sate Its hunger once and for all, so It tested the prey-thing with a sliver of self.

  Only to be rebuffed by the foul Radiance of another freakish prey and injured for It. Prey were to be devoured, but these freaks would not be hunted, and in turn became hunters of It. One of Its brethren had recently fallen to this freak-prey, so The-One-Who-Wakes sent It to track them, and in doing so became aware of the Vessel. So The-One-Who-Wakes commanded It, tasked It to hunt and capture the vessel and freak-prey and bring the bounty to The-One-Who-Wakes so that It might grow in strength and knowledge to awaken even more of Its brethren.

  It cared not for more of Its brethren, for there were not enough prey-things to sate Its hunger, and more would only breed competition. The-One-Who-Wakes was not to be denied though, so It followed the prey-things and the vessel to their bastion of wood and magics, then moved Its spawn into place to surround and attack. It would not be so foolish as Its fallen brethren, would not emerge from the Void to allow Itself to be hunted. Its spawn were many and powerful, so they would be enough. One freakish prey could not save them all, for there were many prey-things hidden inside, enough for It to know much succor, but not satisfaction.

  Not without the vessel to inhabit, but It dared not go against The-One-Who-Wakes lest It be consumed and consigned to oblivion.

  Just as It was about to order Its spawn to attack the bastion, some of its spawn returned to the whole bearing word of their destruction. There were prey-things abound, travelling without the Radiance to protect them. Easy prey then, for the they were slow and vulnerable in the darkness. While Its spawn moved to close in upon the prey, It drew in close to the targets and sought to whisper into their ears, to taste their thoughts spilling out into the Void and the sweet fear and bitter despair once they knew their fate.

  Only to find another vessel moving amongst them, one even more entwined with the Veil compared to the prey It hunted. This new vessel was stronger, perhaps even too strong to be taken outright, but a prize well worth the risk for It stood unguarded by a freak. Extending Its senses beyond the Veil to touch upon the slivers of self that still lingered, It found that the two vessels were converging upon one another, moving closer and closer, and any disturbance with one might well alert the other. The-One-Who-Wakes had commanded however, so It called off Its spawn, drove them back and away from this second vessel’s probing magics, a vessel pulsing with power, determination, and delicious, delectable doubt and despair.

  It partook of the prey sparingly, tasting all that spilled off of the Vessel and into the Void. Touched by the essence of Its spawn, this second Vessel had been, yet there was no purchase to be had, no invitation from the sliver embedded within or any response at all. The sliver was weakened, injured, defeated in direct conflict, for this Vessel’s essence was stronger than any It had ever tasted. Another freak then, but one without the foul touch of Radiance, and thus ripe for the reaping. There was danger in this one, but potential too, and though Its hunger demanded they partake of this Vessel here and now, duty bound it to obey The-One-Who-Wakes.

  Hunt the freak-prey, capture and bring It and the Vessel back to the One-Who-Wakes, but now there were two Vessels, one to present and one to keep so that It might finally know satisfaction.

  So It arranged Its spawn all around the prey while lingering about the fresh vessel, watching, waiting, partaking. All in anticipation of a bounty that would soon belong to It and It alone, as its sliver gathered information on the Vessel to better tempt and coerce it.

  Or crush and destroy it, drinking deep of its essence and making do with another spawn instead…

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

  Getting up early wasn’t Noora’s thing, but here in the Deadlands, you had to make every second of daylight count.

  Howie probably had some sort of folksy way of saying it, like, “Daylight’s burnin’, so best not to waste it”, or, “Make hay while the sky’s still gold.” Didn’t make any sense at all, but his little nuggets of wisdom went a long way even if they seemed real extra at times. She still missed him, missed his smile, his touch, his warm, and comforting presence, but she missed him when she was in Basic and they were only a few hours apart.

  It hurt seeing him in such a bad way, so deep in his pit of misery that he sucked her right in alongside him and made it next to impossible to crawl back out. She wanted to do more for him, wanted to help him out of the pit and onto his feet, but he didn’t want out. He wanted to be miserable, and Noora couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t be his little cheerleader to pick him up onto his feet, only to fall under the weight of his despair and have to climb back out of the pit again all by herself. It was exhausting and demoralizing, so selfish as it might have been, she knew she had to get away before she decided to stay down in that pit alongside him and never leave. Not just away from Howie, but away from it all, the town, the street, the house, the cemetery, away from anything that reminded her of the idyllic life she almost had before it was all ripped away.

  Not necessarily as a happy domestic thruple with Howie and Josie, but just a normal, boring, happy life as a girl of sixteen. With parents who loved her, a sister she adored, and… whatever Howie was. Fun at the time. Interesting. Thrilling. The hero who saved her from her woes, and showed her that people who were broken could put themselves back together and become something more than what they were.

  Then the good times came to an end, and she couldn’t stick around for the bad, which made her feel terrible considering how well he took things. Didn’t blame her for wanting to leave, didn’t get angry or say anything hurtful or mean. Just flashed that soft smile of his, all sad and sweet as he wished her the best and sent her on her way. Because he’d rather get in a fight with an armed guard than talk things out, since that was somehow easier. Looking back on it now, she realized that she’d wanted him to ask her to stay, to tell her that he needed her, loved her even, and couldn’t bear to see her walk away, but instead, he stayed true to his promise and let her leave without a fight.

  All while crying on the inside and saying they had a good run mind you, because even down in the dumps like he was, he still had it in him to look out for Noora’s best interests. While they parted on good terms, she was still nervous to hear that Howie was in the Deadlands now. She wasn’t afraid of him or how he might react, because even if he was upset to learn she was with Tammy now, he’d probably keep it to himself. No, she was nervous because she wasn’t sure if she could honestly say she’d moved on to better things, and she didn’t want him swooping in to save her again. She already owed him so much and she didn’t want to owe him anything more, because he was a good man who’d give and give and give without ever expecting anything in return.

  Not her body, not her company, not even her heart if she had it in her to give him. And she wanted to, wanted to love and adore him the way she loved and adored Josie, but it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with him, but she just didn’t feel the same way, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. The worst part was how he knew it before she did, saw the writing on the wall long before she made her decision to leave, so he wasn’t even surprised when she brought it up on the docks. Stupid that. She should’ve waited, should’ve gotten on his boat and let him bring her back to the quay so they could make love and cry one last time before saying their goodbyes.

  Why had she even been so worried about how he’d react? Tammy had convinced her to do the break up somewhere public for all sorts of good reasons, but only if you didn’t know Howie. Yeah, it would’ve been awkward breaking up and then asking for a ride back to town, but he’d never hurt her, not in a million years. He had a soft spot for broken things, because like Miss Laura said, he was broken just like Noora, and that’s how they connected.

  Tammy wasn’t broken though, or at least not in the same way. She was a bold and adventurous go-getter like Howie, but also na?ve and idealistic to the extreme, wanting to get some experience working for her father’s shipping company before striking out on her own. Mostly because her father Leonard had gone off the deep end and thrown in with a bunch of evangelical Neo-Nazi white supremacists. Didn’t just sell off 40% of his company, he sold it off for a wish and a prayer, that and the title of “Redeemer” in the Order of the Cleansing Light. That was Leonard’s contribution, one he voluntarily made, and only because Tammy ran away to sign on for Basic when her father tried to talk her into marrying someone high up in the Order.

  Someone older than he was mind you, with daughters that were only a few years younger than Tammy herself. Just goes to show that wherever you go, men will always be men, and the good ones like Howie were few and far between.

  If Noora was in Tammy’s shoes, she would’ve left and never looked back, but he was still Tammy’s father and she couldn’t abandon him entirely. Or her two little brothers, who were only fourteen and eleven, so here they were working for a Neo Nazi who kept calling Noora a dirty gypsy. Leonard knew his work though, and he didn’t skimp on the lessons just because he didn’t like the colour of her skin. Which didn’t stop him from leering all the time either, and Noora knew the type. He didn’t stare because of how pretty or young she was, and he didn’t want to see her smile or bat her eyes. He just wanted to hurt her, to put her in her place like the ‘dirty gypsy’ she was, and she would shoot him dead if he ever tried.

  She wasn’t that scared, helpless little girl anymore, the one who hid in closets and waited for someone to save her from the monsters of the world. Besides, Leonard wasn’t half as scary as the men she’d faced down before. Proved as much in her first week here, when he cornered her while they were on watch and wanted Noora to show her appreciation for the cushy job he provided. The old Noora would’ve done as she was told, but she was a new woman now, so she set him straight with a smile and a shock from her gauntlet when he refused to take no for an answer, then threatened to do worse if he ever tried anything ever again.

  Locking eyes with the girl in the mirror, Noora finished putting on her Makeup and added a few streaks of purple into her hair before reaching down to touch her sidearm and remind herself it was there. Howie loved him his revolvers, but she liked having more than six shots, as her aim was nowhere near as good as his. That’s why she bought herself a Prussian made Walth-Rune P38, a pint-sized, 9mm semi-automatic that wasn’t much to look at, but was silent, accurate, and fast firing as can be, as well as reliable even in the humid, muddy Deadlands.

  Best of all? It was an easy modification to get it to take a fifty round drum magazine, and Noora carried two just in case.

  Volume of fire saved her hide more than once out here in the Deadlands, though Leonard got prissy every time Noora asked to be reimbursed for ammo. Just the other day, Noora put ten rounds into a Ghoul barrelling down on him, and he didn’t even have the good grace to say thank you. Just muttered something pithy about how he had it handled and was gonna go bankrupt paying for her ammo. He most certainly didn’t have it handled, as he didn’t even know the Ghoul was there until she opened up on it, and if he went bankrupt, it was through no fault of hers. He was all too happy to give the Order a steep discount on work, then complain about how he barely had enough to pay their wages, wages which were pretty good all things considered, but wouldn’t matter much if they weren’t paid.

  All in all? Even though she had the same three-year contract with Leonard as all the other young guards who signed on alongside her, Noora was pretty sure his company was gonna go under long before her contract was up. Sooner would be better than later, because then she could run off with Tammy to start their own company, and maybe bring her little brothers and a number of younger mercs along with them too. If not, Noora had a whole lot of options, as she hadn’t stopped with her self-taught Artificing. While progress was slow going and making an Automaton still beyond her abilities, she found that knowing how things worked was useful enough on its own, even if she couldn’t use that knowledge to put something together.

  Taking things apart was much easier after all, especially delicate things like Wards, Arcane Marks, and other security measures Leonard and the Order put on their shipments that were more of an inconvenience as opposed to deterrent.

  Not that Noora was stealing from Leonard. She was just curious to know what they were delivering each and every month, a secretive shipment of powder that could be drugs or laboratory grade materials for some Alchemy project. Either or, and Noora left it be, because she knew the Order would turn on Leonard in a heartbeat the second he screwed up. She couldn’t do that to Tammy, who was still a daddy’s girl despite everything that’d happened. And in his own way, Leonard loved his daughter, always threatening the other men both young and old to keep their eyes off her, and even stringing up a curtain in the cabin so Noora and Tammy could have some privacy while they slept at night.

  Privacy Noora would love to make use of as she gave the other girl a sultry look. One that made Tammy’s pale, freckled cheeks flush bright red as she shook her head in adamant refusal despite her desire for a kiss and maybe more. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous in the way most men would prefer, with close cropped hair and a nose that was a little too bold to fit with her sharp and intense features. She had a beautiful smile though, one that parted the clouds even here in the Deadlands as she flashed it for Noora to see, alongside a mouthed promise of a date once they got out of here.

  A promise she best make good on, else Noora was going to tear her own hair out in frustration. There was something about the way Tammy wore her jeans and button up all neat and tidy with the tails tucked in that set a fire in her. Howie dressed the same, but unless it was special occasion, he never stayed all that orderly and well kept. Mostly because he was always doing something or the other, whether it be chopping wood, hauling goods, or just plain exercise while reading a book, he started the day off all put together, but it rarely lasted past breakfast.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Which suited him. A ruffled collar, a rakish tilt to his hat, a belt that wasn’t cinched up tight and hung a little loose on his frame, it all came together in a charming, roguish sort of way that was both friendly and dangerous at the same time.

  Tammy though? She kept herself immaculate, with not a hair out of place in her hip-hugging jeans that hugged her curves so well and reminded Noora of what lay beneath. Tammy didn’t wear a bra either, because she claimed she didn’t need one with her modest mouthfuls, but Noora wasn’t gonna set her straight, not with the view it afforded her. She wanted to peel Tammy out her clothes and break down that tough, matter-of-fact exterior, hear her girlish giggles and breathy moans while teaching her everything there was to learn about her body.

  Of course, the thrill of being caught was a part of it all, which was why Noora reached over to stroke her cheek, a touch the other girl shied away from. Was no helping it though. They were keeping their relationship on the down low because Tammy knew her father wouldn’t approve. Big surprise there. The Neo-Nazi had strong opinions on women and their role in the bedroom. Wasn’t sure which would bother him more though, the fact that his daughter was with another woman, or that she was with a woman who wasn’t white.

  As Noora filed out alongside Tammy and ignored the hungry gazes from Leonard and his friends from the Order, she wished her lover would open her eyes and see her father for who he’d become, as opposed to who he once was. Then Tammy would see that she was far better off taking her brothers away from him before he poisoned their minds with the Order’s ‘teachings’, a term Noora used in the loosest of terms. There was nothing of value to be gained from the Order, and yet somehow, those Neo-Nazis were able to convince all manner of normal people to work hard and sacrifice almost everything. And for what? A sense of belonging and maybe superiority. That’s it. In return for all their efforts and most of their money, they got to join a club and talk down on other people.

  It was crazy really, and Noora had little hope that Leonard would ever turn things around. The Order had him thinking he was better than everyone else by virtue of being white. And not just any sort of white either. You had to be the special sort of white. The Order didn’t accept anyone who was Slavic, Celtic, Mediterranean, or even French, alongside a whole slew of other qualifiers that didn’t make sense. Like non-Germanic Nords, or Finns and Baltics, though they were more than happy to accept any and all Americans of mixed European Heritage so long as they hated their roots.

  Mostly because if they didn’t, they’d have no pool of recruits to draw from. Hated Innates too, as more than one muttered about Noora’s purple streaked hair and how it made her ‘even lesser’. She ignored them all to focus on Elodie instead, who was currently a round little kiccaw singing and dancing her heart out in the courtyard. It was the most adorable thing Noora had ever seen, as Elodie hopped on one foot and ‘kii-kii-kii’ ed, before turning about to hop on the other foot and ‘kaw-kaw-kaw’. She bounced in time to a rhythm only she could hear, and every now and then would freeze in place and cock an ear to listen for a response, before going back to her singing and dancing again.

  “That’s your friend, right?” Tammy asked, studying Elodie’s kiccaw frame with a smile. “I’ve seen Native Wildshapers before, but she’s a little weird even for one of them.”

  Which wasn’t kind to say, especially the tone in which she delivered it, but Tammy didn’t mean anything by it. Waving it off, Noora replied, “She’s Elodie. Sweet, innocent, na?ve, and probably strong enough to tear a grown man’s face off if he upsets her.” A few visits to Howie at the quay was all it took for the Elodie open up and reveal her Wildshaping ways. Mostly because she kept showing up naked as a jaybird and Noora just had to know why, but it wasn’t like Elodie worked all that hard to hide it. Wildshaping wasn’t technically illegal or anything, just something that made townies uncomfortable sometimes for the strangest reasons. It wasn’t about danger or threat, but about immorality and such, and Noora never understood it at all.

  For all their talk of freedom, a lot of Americans seemed awfully concerned about limiting what other people did, especially when it came to the bedroom. Who cares what people do behind closed doors? So long as everyone was a willing party, then she figured it was best to live and let live.

  The fellas from the Order didn’t much care for Elodie either, as they all scowled and glared at her as she sang. They didn’t dare do anything more, because like most bullies, they were cowards too, and the Métis Pathfinders were fiercely protective of their new recruit, with four finding reason to stand between her and the Order with weapons close to hand. Made for a tense atmosphere out in the courtyard, one Noora ignored to stride over for a closer look at Elodie’s song and dance.

  She missed the kiccaws and all their silly antics. Cowie too, and even the horses she barely got to know. Leonard didn’t use any pack animals, only Floating Disc sleds to carry their whole haul, ones that dragged across the ground because he had a tendency to overpack them. Which meant the fresh recruits usually had to drag them along behind them, which wasn’t exactly hard labour, but wasn’t all that easy to keep up for so many hours a day. Wouldn’t let anyone rest on a Floating Disc themselves either, because he said it made them lazy and careless. Wasn’t paying them to slack off, now was he?

  Made for a miserable few months under his thumb, but so long as Noora was getting paid, she didn’t mind all that much. Earned enough to stake a claim in Stonesford and hire people to put up a decent sized cabin with plumbing. No hot water or Aetheric power just yet, but she’d get there soon enough, maybe another month or two of saving up at most. Hopefully Leonard’s company would last that long, but Tammy had let slip how thin their margins were and how deep in debt he was, so anything could happen. If the worst should come to pass, then maybe Noora could see about joining the Pathfinders. She had some experience in the Deadlands already, and their contracts weren’t as stifling as the American ones, to say nothing of working with Elodie and free healthcare.

  Which was huge. In three short months, she’d heard all manner of horror stories about guards going bankrupt from medical debt, with stays in the hospital costing four figures at the very least. Not ideal for a job that had you going toe to toe with Abby using boar spears, where a little nick from a claw could fester and grow infected. Not to mention how their weapons were standard steel and stamped in a factory, not custom, handcrafted Imbued or Augmented weapons like the Pathfinders used. That was the other reason for coming in close, to study their weapons using Detect Magic, but even with only ten soldiers in the group, the glowing colours were almost bright enough to blind Noora.

  And yet Elodie glowed brightest of all as she sang and danced her heart out, only to abruptly hop over into Noora’s arms and chirp up a storm. “Sorry Ella-dee,” Noora said, smiling as she rubbed the other girl’s feathered cheeks and saw her close her gorgeous green eyes in blissful contentment. “I can’t understand kiccaw. Something bothering you?”

  Elodie nodded, chirped, and melted Noora’s heart before squirming out of her hands and hopping back to the other cabin. A few seconds later, she emerged in a buckskin dress that had seen better days, and completely barefoot as she ran back over to wrap Noora in a big hug and said, “This morning, I sing my song, and I think I hear a reply, but then I sing again many times and there was no answer.” Though a good head taller, Elodie sank down to rest her head against Noora’s shoulder and pouted with a sigh. “Maybe Frowny is close, or maybe I was still half dreaming.”

  “Probably dreaming,” Noora said, stroking Elodie’s cheek and marvelling at the feel of the green emerald markings over her soft, supple skin. “The closest waystation is a good day’s travel away, and even Howie’s not crazy enough to camp out in the Deadlands at night, not with how active Abby have been.” Then again, he might just be, as he’d probably see it as more of an opportunity than anything else. Might get it into his head to dig a giant pit or something and use it to trap and kill Zombies. Some of his stories about what he did out in the Badlands and Coral Desert sounded crazy at the time, and even crazier after Noora learned a little bit more about what life was like out on the wild Frontier, but Howie wasn’t a braggart. If he said he did something, then he was more likely to undersell the danger as opposed to oversell it.

  Elodie heaved another sigh and sank even deeper into Noora’s embrace, to the point where she was almost holding the other girl up. “You are maybe right,” she said, sounding sad and forlorn as can be. “I miss the animals very much. I do not like the animals here. The birds are silly, the gators boring, the monkey’s rude, and the mudchucks so very angry. I did not get to say goodbye to Old Tux either. I only said goodbye for the trip, but it may be many months before I run the trails with him again, and he will be sad that I am not there.” Heaving a third sigh, she burrowed into Noora’s embrace and added, “And now you are leaving too, yes?”

  “Afraid so,” Noora replied, hugging the other girl with all her might. “I’m almost always in Stonesford during the first week of every month, and I’ll write you my address so you can send me a letter and let me know where you’ll be stationed when you’re off duty, okay?”

  “Okay Noora,” Elodie said, putting on a brave smile even though she was unwilling to part.

  “We are headed south,” Jocelyn said, having snuck up behind Noora without so much as a peep, and she had to keep herself from jumping out of her skin. “Out of the Deadlands, for our presence has been noticed by the Great Enemy, and we cannot afford to linger here much longer.” Frowning, the weathered Pathfinder glanced off to the south like she could see through the walls, and for all Noora knew, she might. “My Scouts report there is little to no Aberration activity, so it is my suggestion that we all move out as one with all haste. The Great Enemy is quiet, but there is something amiss, and I would be remiss not to offer aid to a fellow traveller.”

  But she didn’t want to do so directly, because Leonard was a real piece of work who’d refuse on basic principle. Same if Noora made the suggestion, so Jocelyn wanted her to pass word to someone who’d be better received. Catching onto the meaning, Noora separated from Elodie and went back to Tammy who was all tight-lipped and scowling because she was a jealous and possessive sort, but she had nothing to worry about with Elodie. She was too sweet, too pure, too innocent to do anything with, and Noora loved the girl like a little sister that was both older and stronger.

  So after soothing Tammy’s nerves and passing the message along, Noora took a seat and ate her breakfast while Tammy plied Leonard’s ego in a way to make him think he came up with the idea to use the Pathfinders as free bodyguards on their way south. The guys from the Order were all too happy to hear it, because they loved to think they were smarter than everyone else, even though they didn’t have enough juice to power a magelight between the five of them. They knew their business though, so the whole group was ready to set out soon enough, with the Pathfinders leading the way and setting a speedy pace as they left the safety of the waystation behind.

  Another week and a bit and they were home free, where Noora and Tammy could spend a few blissful days in the quiet privacy of her cabin on the outskirts of Stonesfjord. Much as she’d love for the other girl to move in, it wasn’t just Leonard and her brothers holding Tammy back. She was also deeply ashamed of being attracted to another woman for various reasons, and while Noora was more than willing to help her work through it, there was only so much she could do about it.

  Maybe Howie would be willing to help. Tammy was a little scared of Howie, and more than a little in awe of him, so maybe having him join in would help break down her barriers. A little bit of fun in the sheets, that’s all, nothing too serious like before, and Noora could then have the best of both worlds, for a few nights at least.

  Course, she’d have to run into him first, and the timing would have to match up, to say nothing of how he might still be too broken up about Josie to do anything about it. Still, a girl could dream, and Noora had learned long ago to dream big and shoot for the moon, because without something to aspire to, it was all too easy to sink down into that pit of despair and never do anything to improve yourself.

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

  My cheeks burn up as I gently hold Frowny’s beak shut and shush the squirming kiccaw into silence. I don’t care all that much about what these Legionnaires think of me, but it’s still embarrassing to be the guy who screws up like I did, forgetting that Frowny likes to sing and dance his heart out every morning at sun-up.

  Luckily he only got out a single note before I shushed him quiet, and though he ain’t none too happy about it, he just stomps around on my shoulder instead of making a ruckus. Gets to bouncing and flapping too, not in a dancing sort of way, but like he’s all eager and excited and can’t hold still. To keep him from distracting me, I put him on Cowie’s head and motion for both to stay silent while sending my partner to watch over Gunnar, who’s hanging back and sweating bullets despite having been sat still for the better part of an hour now. The Legionnaires picked out a good place to ambush their quarry, dead centre in a straight stretch of roadway that is all muddy and uneven. It’ll slow their target’s response a good fair bit, and so long as my group and the one across the way can hold their fire long enough for the target to pass us by, then the Legionnaires have their target dead to rights while stuck in crossfire between four groups of shooters.

  Won’t even need no Big Spells to seal the deal, though I myself am partial to opening things up with a Fireball. Means that when you get to shooting, won’t no one be shooting back, as they’ll all be busy getting out of dodge as a giant sphere of flame materializes all around them. Hard to hit alert professionals or speedy Abby with a Fireball, but add in some volume of fire and you’re all but guaranteed to get the job done. Can’t do that out here in the Deadlands though, as it ain’t just noise that’ll bring Abby down on your head; Big Spells will do the same, because them Mimics be awful sensitive to the flows and will come investigate anything bigger than a First Order Spell.

  And sometimes, even those if they’re feeling bored, so most folks cast their daily suite of defensive Spells from behind a Ward.

  Yeah, folks don’t mess around out here in the Deadlands, as all it takes is one misstep to get yourself bogged down by a horde of Abby. A thought which lingers at the forefront of my thoughts for most of the morning, as I scan again and again and again yet find nothing waiting out there in the darkness. Or the pre-dawn illumination, and when the sun is finally up over the horizon, there’s still nothing to see within a good klick of my location.

  So what’s got my jimmies a jangling then?

  “It’s quiet,” I whisper, and hardened soldiers though they might be, the four Legionnaires huddled up with me all start to hear it. “Too quiet,” I clarify, as they all turn to glare, and the leader blinks to hear it. “Nothin’ on Detect Abby, but no bogmoths flitting about, no slitcrickets greetin’ the morning, no throatgators callin’ out, or bogclimbers laughin’ in the trees overhead. Not a peep for Lord knows how far around us. Somethin’ ain’t right.”

  The leader ruminates on what I shared, then scowls and spits into the mud. “If child is scared,” he says with a sneer while waving me aside, “Then run off and wait somewhere safe. But not too far. As soon as fighting is done, you come retrieve package.” Gesturing at a suitcase one of his men is carrying, the Legionnaire in question tosses it over to me as his leader explains, “Lined in lead. Block all signals. Once package is inside, best not to open. Hand over to big boss as is.”

  Which is a helpful bit of info, even if I could’ve figured it out for myself, so I give him a nod while opening up the case to make sure it’s empty. Heavy as sin, but empty all the same, and I hand it over to Gunnar so I can keep both hands free. Tempted as I am to make myself scarce, I’m thinking its better if I stay close, because even though I told Luka I wasn’t gonna do anything besides pick up the package and leave, I don’t want to deal with the headache that’ll come about if I show up with only one package for two rival gangs.

  Besides, I don’t care much for Neo Nazis, so I don’t mind lending a hand if need be. Could even charge extra for it if I’m feeling bold, though honestly, I’d do it for free. Someone’s gotta set them racists straight, and if the law won’t handle it, then I figure a little Frontier Justice ain’t out of pocket. Put the fear of the Frontier into them as it were, show them that they can think and feel however they like, so long as they keep it quiet and to themselves. Truth is, with all of Aunty Ray’s lessons about tolerance, racial equality, and meritocracy, it was a bit of a rude awakening to go out into the world and realize how racist people can be. Not necessarily in a lynching sort of way, but just the casual bigotry and xenophobia you come across as a non-white man on the American Frontier.

  Then again, I don’t got much of a leg to stand on, as I can be casually racist too. Like noting the difference between the Legionnaires who are Slavs and can squat for days compared to those from other ethnicities who gotta take a knee or shuffle around because they ain’t spent all their days squatting outside for a cig.

  Can tell Gunnar’s feeling the need to light up real bad, as he ain’t had one since we set out from our little camp, and he goes through cigs like hotcakes. Won’t get a chance to light up anytime soon either, as it ain’t good practice to march and smoke in the Deadlands. Was fine with more people around because Edward, Luther, and Aaron could handle it if things got messy, but with just me and Gunnar, I figured it’s best not to risk it.

  The Legionnaires all get tense as one, and I don’t need anyone to tell em that their target is close. Don’t know how they know, as I can’t hear or see nothing, but the Legionnaires are all primed and ready for violence long before I hear the squelch of boots in mud and sleds on corduroy walkway. Taking a deep breath, I check my Shortsword and ready my Ranger Repeater while gesturing for Gunnar to be ready, and he audibly gulps behind me while keeping Frowny calm and quiet as can be. We talked about this already, and he knows to have Gaseous Form ready to cast in a heartbeat if things go south. He can even bring Frowny along for the ride, but bringing Cowie is a bit too much. Can’t bring me along either, and Cowie is a lot more mass, both physically and metaphysically regardless of his current size. My partner don’t mind though, because he can handle himself in a pinch, while these Legionnaires show their mettle as they wait in complete silence and stillness as the convoy draws closer and closer to our point of ambush.

  Can’t see much through the trees and fog, so as soon as they appear, they ain’t all that far off. Less than 100 meters in fact, which lets me get a good look at them Neo-Nazis, only to blink when I spot Elodie’s green hair bobbing about as she skips to the fro alongside the Pathfinders trundling on towards us. The Legionnaire leader straightens up just a bit to see it, but don’t no one utter a peep, as now that they’re this close, it’s all too easy to be overheard. The leader narrows his eyes and purses his lips while considering all the angles, as he wasn’t expecting no Pathfinder patrol. When his target comes into view a moment later, all the tension drains from his shoulders as he breathes out all slow and calm while using hand signals to inform his people of what to do next.

  Now I don’t know the French Foreign Legion’s hand signals, but I know enough to know what’s being said. Stay the course. Proceed as planned. Something along those lines, because the Legionnaires get ready to kick things into high gear as they ready their weapons and wait for their Leader’s order to act.

  As for me? I got a decision to make, one that ain’t all that difficult as I summon my Wildshaped Hand into existence. Then I quietly cast Mage Armour, and the Legionnaire Leader gives me a glare, because there are soldiers who could well sense magic like that from this close a distance. Not many, but they’re out there, so I give him a smile and an apologetic nod as I launch into another Spell, namely Conjure Armour to really pump up my defenses. At the same time, I’m signalling to Gunnar behind my back and hoping he notices, while going as quick as I can to Conjuring up a Floating Disc, a pair of Mage Hands, and my Wildshaped Hand to boot, all while the Legionnaires grow increasingly irate.

  Soon as I’m done, I act all contrite and silently assure them that I’m done with the Spells. Then, as soon as they turn back to focus on their quarry, I shift a half step back and draw my Shortsword to put a Bolt into all four of their backs.

  Silenced though the weapon might be, the Metamagic don’t make it whisper quiet. Still got a tinny bark to it, a ‘Pak-Ting, Pak-Ting, Pak-Ting, Pak-Ting’ that shatters the silent stillness of the swamp and sends bodies a flying to set the Pathfinders, Neo-Nazis, and Legionnaires into action as all hell breaks loose.

  With the element of surprise still on my side, I send my Mage Hands out to collect a pair of rifles while I collect the bodies attached. One of which is still breathing, but I solve that right quick with another Bolt to the face, while my last one goes to the back of the twitching leader’s head just in case. After loading a pair of corpses onto the Floating Disc, I make a mad dash deeper into the swamp to avoid getting shot in the back by the Legionnaires I done just double crossed, or the Pathfinders and Neo-Nazi’s who done scattered and are returning fire now that they’ve come under attack.

  A fine mess I’ve gotten myself into here. Was no helping it though. My hand was forced, so I played the cards I was dealt. It was me or them, and that ain’t a choice. Don’t know how I’m gonna explain things to Luka or even the Pathfinders once the dust settles down, but either way, my decision’s been made. Best thing to do now is kill every Legionnaire and Neo-Nazi I can, then hope the Pathfinders buy whatever story I make up to explain what went down here before spinning another yarn to tell Luka. Hopefully with the package in hand, though that’s asking for a bit much, as I get the feeling I done knocked over the first domino in a long line of violence and bloodshed that lies ahead.

  Kill ‘em all and let God sort it out. Not the best plan, but not my worst either, so I might as well enjoy it while I can.