Nerio had barely spoken to me since the attack at the bridge. He had stewed in thought behind me, his one good arm around my waist to secure his body as his legs gently bounced alongside the horse's gait. The way he was positioned and how he held his legs showed a clear, if limited, familiarity with riding horses.

Over the course of the day, we managed to cross from Arizona into Mexico. At the border itself, there was a special line for participants in the marathon. It was empty when we arrived, and the guard only asked our names before checking a list and letting us through. Maxwell and Grenfell had ‘encouraged’ the governments of both countries to allow racers to cross without passports. Good thing too, cause I doubt Nerio’s survived the explosion.

From there we trekked for another few hours. As we journeyed we passed a number of road signs I couldn’t decipher. I am trilingual, but none of those ‘linguals’ are Spanish. The only one I could decipher was a repeating sign that read “Chihuahua” followed by a number. As we traveled, the number would decrease. At first, I thought it was a mile marker, but it decreased by 10 after going six and a quarter miles. Even if it didn’t, I couldn’t think of a reason to mark off the distance to a small dog. Nerio would certainly make fun of me if I asked, so I did the only thing I could to learn what they meant. I cast the third arcana on the next Chihuahua sign I found, which transcribed its meaning to me, “Chihuahua is 30 kilometers away.”

Forgot about those guys. God, I’ve been in the States too long.

“What time is it?” he asked, his first words to me since asking to relieve himself at the border. I guess he thought I was using the third arcana to read the time. . . better do that to cover up.

I glanced at the dimly lit sky and used the third arcana to listen to it, “Late [8:50].” was my reply.

Nerio huffed and released his grip on me, “Stop the horse. I need to make a call.” Putting the third arcana’s sigil onto Nerio had done me little good. He rarely spoke, and would often say exactly what he meant leaving the spell nothing extra to tell me.

I pulled Zippy to a halt beside the empty highway we had been traveling upon and helped Nerio get down, “A call? On what? I haven’t seen a payphone since the last town.”

Nerio rummaged through my saddle bag and pulled out the dented hubcap from his motorcycle, “A phone obviously.” I sighed; it seemed that Nerio would never cease his vaguery.

The day’s sprint had left me almost completely void of any magic, and I had eaten all of the strange magic-infused jerky that wasn’t in Nerio’s motorcycle. I was left to replenish my supply the old-fashioned way. Eat things and hope it works. Luckily, I had enough left for one more spell. I drew a circle on my palm with my middle and ring fingers and gently traced a line down. I didn’t want them to go too far, so I stopped a little below my wrist.

Arcana seventeen: Seeking Flame

Two yellow balls of flame appeared above my outstretched palm then flew past Nerio and off into the dark.

“What the hell was that for!” Nerio shouted from where he had fallen.

“To find us some dinner obviously.” I walked off in the direction the fireballs went. I couldn’t see it, but I felt the first ball hit something, now I just had to find it. Another dozen feet into the forest and I could see the light of the second ball peeking through the trees. The second ball was hovering a few feet above the body of the rabbit the first one had killed. It was a little small for both Nerio and me, but it should be enough to last until Nerio realizes he has no phone and we can find a nearby restaurant. I picked up the rabbit and let the second flame land back into my palm. I turned around, took a step, and stopped.

Where’s the camp?

I couldn’t see anything in the dark, but it shouldn’t be too far. I hoped. I wandered until I stumbled upon the highway. My instinct, and the glow of a campfire, told me to turn to my left.

“That was fast,” Nerio said as I sat next to the fire, “and small,” he added upon noticing my catch.

“Well, I thought I would be more useful catching than cooking,” I said, tossing the rabbit onto his lap.

“I have to cook it!? When’d we agree on that!?”

“I can cook it if you want,” I said as I pulled my blanket from the saddle bag, “but then you’d really want to complain.”

Nerio grunted, then threw the hubcap onto my lap, “Fine, watch this [hold it tightly].”

I sat it next to me and slid deeper into my blanket’s embrace, “Will do.”

I heard something land in the dirt in front of me and opened my eyes to discover a knife embedded into the ground, “I said hold it. [The next one is in your arm]” He said cheerfully.

“Alright, alright. I’ll hold your metal circle. I slid it under the blanket. As soon as Nerio couldn’t see it, I let go. Vivian had noticed me giving attention to something that wasn’t him, and immediately crawled out of my robe and sat on top of it to “assert dominance over the circle”

I began to doze off to the sound and warmth of the fire as the minutes dragged on. At least, I was until Vivian started causing a scene under the blanket.

Vivian let off a series of chirps that the third arcana deciphered as “The circle has turned! Biting has no effect!”

I pulled my head underneath the blanket to figure out what he meant through all of that, only to discover that Nerio’s hubcap was slowly sliding across the dirt. I pressed my hand against it and it stopped moving.

“It’s fine Vivian. We’re just on an incline.” I pulled the hubcap closer to me. It felt a little heavier than it did before. No, weight is vertical; this was a lateral force. Something was trying to steal the hubcap, and it was pulling harder.

I needed to use my other arm to hold it still now, “Nerio! Your thingie’s moving on its own!”

“Hmm?” He looked up from where he was cooking the rabbit, “Oh, yeah. Just hold it for a little bit longer, ok?”

I took a moment to throw a harsh face his way. The force of the disc then pulled me to the ground, dragging me across the dirt, “Why are you acting so unchalant about this? You knew this would happen, didn’t you? You wanted this to happen!”

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

He smiled in response, “Nonchalant, and I just thought that since you wanted me to cook so badly, I would have you uphold my responsibilities for a minute.”

I rose back onto my knees and pulled the disc against my chest, and the pulling force died down. I relaxed my arms but remained wary of another yank.

“It should be time for you to let go now [and to back away].”

Like hell I was listening to him now. I gripped it tightly as the pulling sensation began anew. A cacophony of clanging and banging forced me to look away from the disc and into the darkness of the empty road beside me. Something was out there and coming closer. An object pierced my hand and I instinctively dropped the hubcap. I looked at the wound and found a small bolt embedded in the back of my hand. It forced itself deeper while I desperately clawed at it.

“Turn your hand over! [They take the shortest route]”

I listened to him this time. I flipped my hand over and the bolt flew from my hand and towards the hubcap. I gripped my palm and swore the pain away just as another round of noises approached from the other side of the road. Hundreds of other small parts flew from the trees and past me. The few items that passed by my head glistened silver in the fire’s light, metal. Several pieces brushed against my curls but none struck me. They all landed next to the hubcap and formed an ever-growing mass of metal. A few seconds passed and the last part landed and screwed itself onto the now complete motorcycle.

“What. . . What was that!” I stammered as the realization set in.

"It's my bike. I thought I told you it could do this yesterday. Here," Nerio pulled a bag of the jerky from the bike's cargo box and tossed it towards me.

"Uhh, no. You just talked about 'artifacts' and 'digital' whatevers." I looked inside the open bag. The meat inside was fresh, and still full of magic. What's more, the bag was the same one I had opened the other day. Same expiration date, same poorly done tear in the corner, same single burnt piece, "Nothing about bringing things back from ash and shit."

"Well, it can. It'll re-link itself in a few minutes, so I'd refrain from eating that unless you want to be half a bag short for the rest of the trip."

I dropped the piece I was holding back into the bag, "Then why'd you throw it to me?!"

"Because I needed to get to this." He said, pulling a small, open tin can from the box. It looked just like any other can save for the lack of labels and a small string tied to the bottom. Nerio pulled the can to his mouth and stepped back until the string was taut. Then, he spoke into it like so many children to so many identical toys.

"Niccolo, you there?"

Nerio paused to allow the person on the other end of the can-o-phone to answer.

"Save the updates for later; there's a more current issue."

"I got attacked today at the Navajo bridge. Multiple assailants, older military equipment, and dead switches. They were skilled. Nowhere near a Catalan, but certainly still dangerous. I need you to send me some equipment and figure out who they are." Whoever this Niccolo was, he sure knew how to bring about Nerio's talkative side.

"I know it's not a lot! I was in a hurry and they combusted before I could find anything else. There was a witness behind us, so a police report should be somewhere."

"Then skip the damn investigation! I'll learn what I can as they send more people. But without some extra firepower, I'm not gonna survive another incident like that!"

"I'm not asking for the damn Springheel Niccolo! I just need armor-piercing rounds and some chain!"

"I know I've reneged! But I can't make it to the hearing if I'm dead!"

"Just. . . Just give me something Nic. I'm alone out here.”

“A job? Nic, you know I can’t lose this race. I don’t have time, I-”

“Oh, that changes things. I’ll. . . I’ll have to ask my partner. You will get your answer tomorrow, noon.”

Nerio glanced towards me, “Yeah, we were forced together on the first day. You can read all about it when the papers get there.”

“I had to tell her Niccolo. She was there during the attack, and. . . she just watched the bike reconstitute itself.”

“I know I wasn’t supposed to but this isn’t a standard situation. I couldn’t see any other option. Please Nic, don’t tell anyone until you read the news tomorrow.”

Nerio paused a moment, said his goodbyes to the person on the other end of the line, and put the can back into his motorcycle.

“You ‘had to tell her’? Strange, 'cause I think I know who she is, and you haven’t told her a thing.”

Nerio closed the box, sighed, and leaned against it, “I’m telling her now,” He looked at me. His gray eyes held a sense of dignified regret. I didn’t need the third arcana to know what that look meant. I could tell no one what he was about to tell me, “I work for a company with a vested interest in items with. . . abnormal properties. Artefacts, as our science teams call them. We’ve amassed a large collection over the years; like the reconstruction engine in the bike, or the entangled strings I used earlier.”

Nerio paused throughout his monologue, straining to pick the perfect word to get his meaning across without activating the third arcana or giving me any information he didn't feel I needed.

"Entangled strings? You mean that can-o-phone you were playing with?"

"It's a serious scientific instrument! A marvel of combining artefacts and contemporary technology!! Allowing instant communication anywhere in the world!. . . .. As long as you schedule your conversation beforehand."

Insulting the cans greatly affected him, leaving me with only one conclusion, "Nerio, did you create it?"

He grumbled incoherently for a moment. But the third arcana translated his mumbling to [Chief Naming Officer].

"Oh, I didn't mean to. . It's actually a good name. Yeah, that string's tangled all right. A reaaaal tangled one right there, haha."

"It's entangled! En. Tangled implies disorder, but we deliberately intertwine the. . ." He trailed off, [Stop talking and let me finish explaining before I get distracted or cry].

A moment and an awkward smile later Nerio continued, "As I was saying, my company, Catalan, has been collecting and researching artefacts for centuries. I’m on. . .” This pause was longer than his other ones. He was desperately trying to avoid telling me something, “. . . a leave of absence from the company right now. However, I just managed to get a small job in Mexico.”

“What?! What do we need a job for!” This race was paying thousands, and I was not going to lose that or the wish for some near stranger’s wallet.

“Weapons Etteilla. I need weapons and we need intel on the people that tried to kill us.”

I didn’t agree with him at all. I’m more than ‘weapon’ enough to keep us both alive regardless of who is sent after us, and knowing the name of the person shooting at you doesn’t make them stop shooting at you. Despite that, my massive, generous heart decided that we had enough of a lead and enough race left to warrant a small detour. Especially if that detour meant we could afford to stay in actual rooms, “Alright, where is your job?”

“He lives in a small town on the west coast of Mexico, near Guadalajara. We should be able to get there in about two days.”

“West coast? I’m no mapologist, but that’s left, right?” [As in, the opposite direction of where the goal is].

Nerio looked at me, exasperation pouring from his eyes, “We’d only lose a day at most.” [How were you planning on navigating this race alone if you don’t know “west”?]

“I only need to know which direction is correct, and which is wrong. No need for that port, starboard bullshit.”

Nerio sighed again, a response I was getting quite adept at conjuring, “I’m going to bed. I’m calling him early tomorrow so I suggest you get settled in too. [and put your bag of jerky back in my bike if you want it to keep coming back. The link settles in in a few seconds.]”

Nerio lied down and I rushed to pack the magic meat into his machine. A minute passed and nothing happened. No bang, no flash of light, no rumble in the earth. The bike just stood there.

“It re-links at 9:10 PM every day, so it should be fine to eat it now.” Nerio must have noticed that I wasn’t moving; I pulled the bag from the bike, sat next to the fire, and ate until I had all my magic back.

I was optimistic about tomorrow. More than I should have been. Nerio was certainly a hard man to decipher, made even harder by his lack of conversational ability. But, talking to one of his coworkers and learning what he did for a living would help me get to know him. Hopefully well enough to tolerate him for the rest of the race. Because right now his making decisions for me and the ambiguous way he describes them are going to force me to commit violence upon him within a week.