Elle was frightened. It was a sensation she was unused to. At her village, she was known to be among the most fearless of all the young women. She was said to take after her mother’s courage, and her father’s resilience.
Then came the men of Vector. They came into the village at dawn, just as most of the village was still waking, and ransacked her home until noon. They gathered up all those under thirty, and all those over twelve. With only nineteen summers in her past, Elle was one of them.
First, the moved all of them to a camp south of the Senta Pass, where they were separated from one another and inspected by a foul-smelling old man with a feathered cap. He didn’t seem like a soldier to her, but whoever he was commanded the soldiers there.
She shuddered as she recalled the old man’s probing fingers invading her. The stink of his breath still lingered on her skin.
She wasn’t certain if she should have been thankful that’s all the man did, or if it meant something far worse was in store for her. She was a virgin, after all. She’d heard tales that the Pactkeepers would trade in virgin flesh. Her father always waved it away as nonsense, but now she wasn’t so sure.
She was in a group of fifteen other girls from Stone’s Mouth. Ahead of them were a group of another fifteen boys and men from the village, including her brother. They’d managed to make eye contact a few times, but the Vectoran men were brutal, and by whip or cudgel, they’d demand all eyes stay forward.
She was exhausted. They’d been marching for the better part of two days since leaving the camp, heading southward along the Aegel Coast. They didn’t tell them where they were to be heading. The Vectorans wouldn’t even allow them to speak. Those that did were often singled out, beaten. And if they fought back, they’d experience even worse.
Nonetheless, the Vectoran soldiers weren’t shy to speak amongst themselves in earshot. Elle was able to glean what she could.
Anastae, they had repeated. They were going to Anastae.
But Elle had never heard of Anastae. She’s heard of all the major nations of the Pactlands. The names of their Kings, Emperors and Sovereigns, and even the names of many of their cities.
However, she had never heard of Anastae.
But when she finally broke through the edge of the forest, she realised why. Before her was a field of stumps and freshly fallen trees. In those fields were workers. Many briefly stopped their work to observe them as they walked down the path toward an area enclosed in high log fences. Elle’s first instinct was to yell at them for staring, but soon realised the men there weren’t workers. As she noticed the men in Vectoran uniforms barking orders at them to return to work, the truth revealed itself. They were slaves. Freemen slaves.
Was that to be her fate, then? To be put to work in the fields? No. That might be a blessing compared to what the Vectorans had in mind for her.
Eventually, they made their way down to the high log walls and gathered outside a gate. The men and women separated on opposite sides of the road. She met eyes with her brother again. Jarrad nodded at her as if to ask if she was all right. She nodded back, then darted her eyes back toward the road, to see if he caught her meaning.
He did. The two of them had always been able to communicate without speaking. They would have to work together to escape that place, but they would have to be smart, and take as many with them as they could.
As the Vectoran at the gate started to walk back, the tall doors began to swing open, and what Elle saw inside filled her with a sense of impending dread.
It was no mere fort. Forts were constructed of wood and cloth and dirt.
Inside the wall were buildings of stone, covered in even more workers. Even more workers were pulling wagons filled with large stone bricks, clearly cut by the keen hand of an Earth Mage. Men were busily laying out pathways of flattened stone. She saw construction cranes, and at the far end of the settlement more workers were erecting more of the tall log walls.
All the construction and activity seemed to be concentrated to the outside of a single, large building. A castle.
These were the Free Lands. A land of wilderness and freedom, where the people lived in small communities and forest villages, and Vector was building a city.
They were led to the area in front of the castle. It was a flattened courtyard. On one side of the courtyard, she could see a number of soldiers being trained. A closer look revealed to her the looks on the men’s faces. They weren’t Vectorans. They were Freemen, forced to wear the standard of Vector and kill in their name.
A deep anger began to well up inside of her. Any true Freeman would rather die by Vector’s sword than kill for them. They were traitors.
Then she thought of Jarrad, and softened her heart. If Jarrad’s life were at stake, she would do whatever she was asked. Even kill another. The men in the training pit were likely no different. They might die for the Free Lands. But they would kill for their loved ones.
Some of the boys training were as young as twelve. Frightened children who didn’t know what else to do. She looked across the road to young Pash. In Stone’s Mouth, he was a rambunctious young boy, getting into trouble with his father on a daily basis, but so full of life and amusement she couldn’t help but envy him. He was only twelve.
And now his eyes were filled with fear and uncertainty.
A Vectoran man came over and started to inspect the men and boys. As he observed them, he pushed them out of the group toward one of two men. The first man was clearly a soldier. The other appeared to be some kind of workmaster. She watched as they separated them. When he came to Pash, he pushed him over toward the soldier, who had him stand behind him.
Finally, they came to Jarrad, and she locked eyes with him.
She prayed under her breath to whichever dead god might listen, but her prayers went unheard. He was grabbed by the shoulder and pushed over toward the soldier.
Her brother was going to have to pick up a sword for Vector if he wanted to live.
He looked over to her. His eyes were steeled, serious. He gave her a nod as if to say, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out.
She had to look away, lest she betray her emotions.
She then noticed a woman approaching her and the other girls. She stood in front of them while the Vectoran that had been minding them walked up to her.
“Madame Zera,” he said, bowing to her. She was clearly someone of importance.
“These are the virgins?” She barely acknowledged him. She stepped up and cupped the chin of the girl next to her. “You’re certain?”
“They were inspected by Master Grais himself. He has confirmed their status.”
“I’m sure he has,” she said. She walked up the line, taking a moment to observe each girl. Most looked away, afraid to meet her eyes.
Not Elle, though. Elle only stared back into her eyes defiantly.
The woman smirked. “This one interests me,” she said. She stepped forward and cupped Elle’s chin, gazing directly into her eyes. Elle didn’t move. She only stared back.
“Your name, girl,” the Madame said.
Elle said nothing.
The Madame suddenly reared her arm back and slapped Elle across the face. It stung fiercely, but Elle still held back the tears.
“You’ll answer when asked a question,” she said.
“What good is a name in this place?” Elle replied. “You Pactbound do not respect them.”
The Madame smiled. “True,” she said. “Then if you won’t tell me your name, I’ll give you one. Your name will be Thing.” She turned her head toward the soldier. “Bring her to Shilo Cahl. We’ll see how defiant she is when he’s had his use of her.”
Without another word, she found herself violently yanked by her bindings by the soldier and marched into the castle. She felt a stab of fear in her heart, and managed to look back over her shoulder toward Jarrad. He looked back, the fear showing in his eyes.
Then she nodded at him, as if to say, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.
----------------------------------------
“General,” the young soldier greeted at the door with his fist to his chest. “Lieutenant Ynnia has returned with news of the Aegel Coast.”
Ajjiro Ryde looked up from his ledger to the young soldier and gave him a curt nod. “I will attend shortly,” he said.
As the soldier left, he flipped his ledger back a few pages. He’d ordered Ynnia and his two men to scout the Aegel Coast for signs of Halish interference. When he’d gotten word bby way of Binar from Nostra that the foolish King had sent a force to observe their efforts in the Disputed Lands, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. The Halish were known for sticking their nose into business that wasn’t theirs. Nonetheless, it was important to get a bearing on their location so they could deal with it without resorting to bloodshed. A chance encounter with the Hakish might jeopardise their claim to the Disputed Lands, after all.
He also used the opportunity to get Ynnia out of his hair. The young lieutenant was competent, but far too arrogant for Ryde’s liking. Any other Lieutenant displaying the same sense of entitlement would have been put under the boot, but Ynnia was a special case. He was the nephew of Herrold Ynnia, who still commanded much respect in the Senate.
Which was a fact that burned Ajjiro so deeply he could taste blood. Ynnia was pompous, just like his nephew. He spoke to Ryde with a level of disrespect that Ryde would have had him executed for insubordination if he were one of his men.
But he wasn’t. Rather, Senator Ynnia was one of the few men whose station was far enough above Ryde’s that he was mostly untouchable.
Mostly.
Still, it meant he had to tread carefully with the young Lieutenant. He couldn’t simply have him executed for insubordination without having to answer for it, and that would put all his plans at risk. Ryde knew his goals, and to reach them, he had to work toward the Emperor’s goals.
He closed his ledger and stood up, making sure to smooth down his uniform of creases before leaving the room. He walked down the long hallway toward the stairwell leading down to the entrance foyer.
Below was a bustle of activity. A collection of young men and women from the annexation of the village in the Senta Pass stood lingering below. He briefly met the eyes of Zera Thorn as she guided many of the young women deeper into the castle. She smiled at him briefly, and he returned a nod in her direction.
Zera was an easy woman to figure out. In the Emperor’s Court, she maintained a demure, servile attitude. But she also displayed the sort of cunning and intellect that Ajjiro couldn’t help but admire. Certainly, the woman was a liar and a manipulator, but she was always working toward her own goals, and that made her predictable.
Thankfully, their goals aligned without intersecting, and so she was useful to him, and he to her.
At the bottom of the stairs stood Lieutenant Ynnia and one of his men. The man next to him seemed to be injured. His shoulder was bandaged, and his complexion pale. The third man he’d sent was absent.
Had they encountered the Halish? If so, that would present a complication to his plans. They were only meant to observe and report. It was imperative that Halen only see what they wanted them to see, lest they discover the true reason for the annexation of the Disputed Lands.
“My Lord General,” Ynnia greeted as Ryde walked down. He put his fist to his chest and lowered his head.
Ajjiro said nothing at first. Instead, his eyes cast toward the injured man for a moment, then back to Ynnia. “Where is your third?”
“Dead, my Lord,” Ynnia said. “We were ambushed along the Aegel Coast.”
“The Halish?”
Ynnia shook his head. “Freemen. They came upon us in the dark. They were many. Killed Hatsch, and wounded Mis. We only barely escaped with our lives.”
“Freemen?” Ajjiro asked. “You were ambushed by Freemen?”
“They weren’t normal Freemen,” the second man said.
“Mis, quiet! Show respect to the Lord General!” Ynnia barked.
Ajjiro might have throttled the young Lieutenant if it were any other man. Instead, he calmed himself. “No, I would hear it,” Ajjiro said, giving the boy a nod.
“My… my apologies, Lord General,” said the young soldier. “These weren’t like any Freemen we’ve seen yet. They were living in strange homes like I’ve never seen. Some were built upon wheels.”
“Homes built upon wheels?” Ajjiro asked. “What nonsense is this?”
Ynnia nodded. “He speaks the truth,” he said. “What queer machinations these Freemen had I don’t know, but it wasn’t like the villagers we’ve already come across.”
“Where was this?”
“Just in from the Aegel Coast,” Ynnia said. “A day northwest of the camp in the Vale. We felt it important to notify you ourselves. These Freemen were indeed of a different breed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of metal. “Here. I dug this out of Mis’ shoulder. It was deep.”
Ajjiro took it from him and examined it. It was oddly shaped, but he could tell it had been warped from its original shape.
“There, on the side. There is lettering in the Old Script,” Ynnia said.
Sure enough, Ryde spotted what he was talking about. Luger 9mm.
“You say this was shot at you? Like an arrow?” It didn’t make sense. Something that small and light wouldn’t do anything to harm a man unless it had been travelling at speeds far beyond what a bow or crossbow could achieve.
“Fired, more like,” Mis added. “There were loud noises with each shot. They got Hatsch first. Dropped him to the ground as if he weren’t even there. Then they fired upon us.”
“How many were there?”
“At least a dozen,” Ynnia said, quickly interjecting. His eyes shifted off to the side. Ajjiro could spot a lie a mile away.
Generally, he found liars to be exceedingly useful, but only if he knew why they lied. Liars could be manipulated. Sometimes they could be controlled and made to do work on his behalf.
But Ynnia didn’t lie for some purpose that was of any use to Ajjiro. Ynnia lied because for all his arrogance, he was a coward.
Still, Ajjiro knew better than to let on that he knew Ynnia was lying. He would be more useful to him if he were left to believe he was the smarter of the two.
“You’re certain these weren’t Halish men?”
Ynnia shook his head. “I know Halish from Freemen. These men dressed queerly, but wore no armour. They were clad in strange clothing.”
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“Did you see the weapon that fired this?”
“There were two types that I could see. One was long, at least as long as a man’s arm. The other was… smaller. Almost like a hammer. They held them in their hands and fired quickly. One after another, much faster than an arrow.”
“And it buried itself in your flesh? You say with a loud noise?”
Ynnia and Mis both nodded.
Ajjiro smelled the metal bit. Unfortunately, if it had smelled of anything, the scent was mostly gone. But there was something about it that bothered him. The craftsmanship needed to etch such fine letters into the metal were far too advanced for a simple Freeman. Perhaps even more advanced than the finest metalworkers in all of Vector. That was a point of concern. If the men were to be believed, a single shot killed their third. Another shot had put one of his soldiers out of commission. He closed his fist around the metal bore, then looked to Mis.
“Take yourself to the Body Mages,” Ajjiro said. “You’ve proven your worth to Vector through your injury, and I will ensure you are rewarded for your sacrifice. Eat well and sleep tonight. You must be exhausted.” He then looked to Ynnia. “Lieutenant, you will accompany me.”
“Of course, my Lord General,” Ynnia replied. “Might I ask where we are going?”
“This news concerns me, Lieutenant. We go to see the Crier.”
He could see the blood rush out of Ynnia’s face, and took some satisfaction from that. The Crier was harmless to any except perhaps those that the Soul Mage Shilo Cahl might offer up, but being in the presence of the Crier was unsettling to say the least.
But it was a means to an end, and Ajjiro Ryde needed to ensure he had all the means.
----------------------------------------
The deepest area of the keep was well-known to be the domain of Shilo Cahl. Most of the soldiers avoided it. They told each other stories of the horrors that went on down in that area. But Zera Thorn was not a woman taken to fear so easily. Rather, she found the work done there to be fascinating, not to mention of great importance to the Empire.
When she was a young girl, she was obsessed with Soul Magic despite being profoundly ungifted. But what she lacked in ability, she made up for in ambition, and when the opportunity came to work at the side of Shilo Cahl, the Emperor’s personal Soul Mage, she jumped at it.
Cahl was a lonesome man, preferring solitude over company, even that of the female variety. That suited Zera just fine. It was his powers she coveted, not his status. Not to mention the fact that she loathed men in general, except in the rare circumstance they serve some purpose.
And Shilo Cahl could.
She took her own room next to his as his right hand. Cahl wasn’t a communicative sort. He was more often obsessed with his work, with his research into the Aethyr and its relationship with Soul Magic.
“We have a suitable vessel in the new lot,” Zera told him. “She’s resilient. Stubborn. She may last longer than the others.”
Cahl grunted an absent acknowledgement toward her and remained quiet as he pored over the parchment in front of him. After a moment, he looked up toward her. “You believe she will last longer than the last?”
“By a week at least,” Zera replied. “She is young. Healthy, but spirited. She did not break even after I hit her.”
Cahl nodded. “The current vessel is near death,” he said. “We have not been able to summon the Crier for days now. If you say she is a suitable vessel, I trust your judgement.”
“Shall I have her prepared?” Zera asked.
Cahl nodded. “The other will die on her own before too long. The Crier has muddled her mind. She’s already a drooling mess. She might as well spend her remaining time in the tents. As for this new vessel, have her prepared. I shall attend to her shortly.”
“How shortly will that be?” came another voice from the back of the room. Zera craned her neck around to see General Ajjiro Ryde enter the room, followed by one of his men. He gave her a curt nod.
Cahl looked back at him. “Lord General,” he greeted. “If you have need, we can get started right away. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”
Ryde nodded. “I have need,” he said. He opened his fist, displaying a small chunk of metal. “I must know what this represents.”
“What is it?” Zera asked.
“A metal bore that found its way into one of my men,” he explained. “I’ve never seen the like.”
“Zera, prepare the vessel at once,” Cahl asked.
With a nod, Zera left the room and walked down the hall. She was eager to test out the new girl in more ways than one. Zera prided herself on her ability to evaluate potential vessels, and this one seemed strong enough to withstand the Crier’s influence on her mind and soul, at least for a time.
Plus, Zera also relished the breaking of such girls. And when Cahl was done with her, she would be Zera’s to do with as she pleased. After all, Zera’s tastes were a rare sort, difficult to sate, even at her station.
She nodded to the two soldiers outside of the room where they kept the girls. “The blonde one,” she said to them. “The Summoner has need.”
The guards nodded, and in but a moment, they entered the room and emerged with the girl in question. She struggled against them, squealing in protest. One of the guards bashed her in the side of the head, which put a stop to that.
Zera smiled sweetly at the guard. “Do not damage her too much,” she said. “She has a pretty face. I should like to see how long it remains that way.”
She led the guards to the wide room at the end of the hall. A wooden table sat in the centre of the room, with bindings for the arms and legs. The girl still struggled against the guards, but they overpowered her with ease.
“Why do you do this?” the girl asked.
“Shush,” Zera said. “You’ll only make it more painful if you resist.”
Once she was securely fastened to the table, Shilo Cahl, the General and his man entered the room. Cahl looked over her for a moment and nodded. She turned to Zera. “And she is undefiled?” he asked.
“I have not confirmed myself,” Zera said. “But Grais’ competence is rarely in question.”
With a nod, Cahl began to shake his hands, making flicking motions with his fingers. It was his habit to do so, citing that it cleared his hands of what he called excess offal. He held them aloft in the air above Thing.
“What is this?” the girl exclaimed. She struggled in her bonds. “What are you doing?”
“Hush now,” Zera said. “You’ll distract him.”
The air in the room suddenly grew cold. Zera loved to watch this part. It was the opening of the Aethyr, the tearing down of the walls between this world and the plane of the Daemon. Slowly, a purple field began to form above the girl’s heart. Still, she struggled. Her eyes full of panic as she yelled out.
Cahl kept his concentration, and the shifting field that danced in the air above the table slowly started to lower itself down toward the girl.
The field started to slow and stretch, focusing on the girl’s head and torso. With a bright purple flash that caused the General and his man to shield their eyes, the field disappeared.
The girl lay still. Her eyes stared blankly to the ceiling.
“Green Sight,” remarked the General’s man. Zera could tell from the look in his eyes he’d never seen it before. She smiled inwardly.
A slow hiss started to emerge from the girl’s throat. She remained staring blankly into space.
“Crier,” Shilo said. “I call you. Answer me!”
The low hiss emitting from the girl’s throat started to raise in pitch, and when she finally spoke, it was not the girl’s voice alone that Zera heard, but the familiar, scratchy voice of the Crier as well.
“Summoner,” it said. “Why do you disturb the rest of the Crier?”
“My Lord General has need of your knowledge.”
“The Crier cares little for the needs of men!”
“Be that as it may,” the General said. “You cannot lie. You will tell us what we need to know.”
The Crier suddenly broke out into laughter. “Small men. Men who think their station is above that of my kind. You do not know time, man. Not as we do. Ask your questions, and release me!”
“This,” the General said, holding the metal bore between two fingers and moving it into the Crier’s eyeline. “I have need to know what this is.”
The Crier’s blank stare turned toward the metal bore, and a wide scowl appeared on the Crier’s face.
“The killing bore. It does not belong in this place.”
“From where did it come?”
“Across time. Across this sliver of reality. It does not belong here! It comes from the place of man’s origin. The tool which leads to their demise!”
“What do you mean, the place of man’s origin?” Ryde asked.
“The masters of techknowledge, from the place of order! Where chaos has little reign! Between the smallest dusts. She has done this! The Betrayer! The watcher of the engines, who banished us from the world of understanding!”
The Crier was always cryptic, but Zera had never heard it speak in the way it did. Banished?
“Fascinating,” Cahl said aloud. “Are you saying the Daemon once walked upon these lands?”
“Stolen lands. Stolen forms,” the Crier said. “Imprisoned in the space between worlds!”
“These men, you say they come from another world? By what means?”
“The Betrayer! She manipulates even now, beyond the era of her death!”
“These men are in our way. They threaten our cause. How can we defeat them?”
The Crier remained silent for a moment. “She manipulates. She works against us, against you. Two, she has. Puppets. Destroy them.” Suddenly, the body the Crier inhabited began to twitch.
“She won’t hold the Crier for much longer,” Cahl warned. “One more question, and then we should release the Crier, lest it kill the host. This host is resilient, it would be a shame to lose her so quickly.”
“Who are these two? How do we find them? How do we destroy them?”
“She with hair of blood, who sees the two-fold path outside of time. She travels to the northern King. He, the tall man who stands outside the door, who hides his true face and can undo the forces that bind life together. He remains in the land foreign to this place which your man has seen with his own eyes. North. Stop them. The people born of the fel light that flows between worlds, or all that you have built will suffer.” The Crier’s vessel started to spasm violently.
“How. How do we stop them?” Ryde asked.
“Enough, no more. She’ll die!” Cahl exclaimed.
“She is a tool!” Ryde yelled. “How, Crier? How do we stop them?”
“Spears in the hands of children!” The Crier exclaimed. “Ten thousand times. Bleed them. Wound the body to destroy the head. Only then will they be destroyed!”
“What does that mean, Crier?” Ryde asked. “What does it mean?”
Suddenly, the vessel of the Crier fell limp, and Cahl quickly ran to the girl’s side. He let his hand hover over top of her for a moment.
“She’s alive. We’ll need to allow her time to recover,” Cahl said. He looked over to Ryde, who sat in silence.
He suddenly turned to the soldier standing with him. “You’ve seen this place. The homes on wheels. Is this right?”
The General’s man nodded.
“Send for the Emperor’s Binar,” he said. “He needs to know of this, and we must prepare.”
“Prepare for what, my Lord?” the soldier asked.
Ryde looked back at him. “To kill the body in order to destroy the head.”
----------------------------------------
Andy found himself a seat in the amphitheatre amongst the crowd that had gathered to watch the newly-formed Ladysmith Magic Society practice. He had to admit, it was a hell of a sight. Teenagers manifesting fire from the ends of their fingers, old ladies making sculptures of water out of thin air. It was quite the spectacle. Last he’d heard, there were only seven or eight members. But it was clear to him that the number was starting to balloon as more and more people manifested their abilities.
Andy waited silently, watching the group as they went through their exercises. He recognized a few faces. Most noticeably, he recognized Boomer, the kid that had come down to help when the wyverns had attacked, sticking pretty close to Lily, the Ladysmith girl that had taken it upon herself to organise the Society. Then there was the local girl. Arie Boas. Andy didn’t quite know what to make of her just yet. She might be someone they could trust, or she might have an angle that Andy couldn’t quite suss out just yet. In a perfect world, he’d need to know what made her tick if he was going to bring her aboard.
Unfortunately, they didn’t quite have the time for that.
“Magic is the wildcard,” Andy said under his breath. It was something Boone had said, and Andy couldn’t help but agree. Their understanding of magic was going to make or break their efforts to defend the town once the forces of Vector made their way to them.
They set up a temporary base of operations at Kamper’s Korner, recruiting both Amos Bradley and Samantha Whittaker to the cause. Amos was an old coot at the best of times, but he noticed everything, and seeing as he was unwilling to leave the trailer, they might as well put him to work at keeping an eye on the area.
As for Samantha, she had a history as a tow truck dispatcher, which made her the perfect person to handle communications. Once power had been restored to the area, Boone supplied her with a HAM radio set-up. Kamper’s Korner, being the site of the first encounter with Vector, needed to be fortified since it was also likely to be the site of the second encounter. They’d already evacuated most of the homes in Saltair along the oceanside since they were considered to be at risk, which left the trailer park as the only place left to set up a base of operations.
Most of the morning had been spent running wires between the trees up on the ridge south of the trailer park and installing infrared surveillance cameras. They would need eyes on those woods at all times, as well as up the logging roads and north of town near the airport. Andy’s back bothered him, but it needed to be done.
“Enjoying the show?”
Andy looked up toward Boomer as he took a seat next to him. He’d been so lost in thought he didn’t notice the young man approach.
Andy nodded. “Just thought I’d check out the local talent,” he said.
“Something tells me it’s not that simple,” Boomer replied.
Andy cocked his head. “What gives you that impression?”
“Well,” Boomer began. “You’re looking at us like you’re evaluating everyone. Almost like you’re making a mental list.”
“And why would I be doing something like that?”
Boomer levelled his gaze at Andy for a moment. He looked as though he had a reply, but held it back.
Instead, he pointed down at one of the kids. “That’s Raine,” he said. “Raine’s got
Fire Magic. You want to know something crazy?”
“What’s that?”
“He’s seventeen years old, he’s only had his abilities for a couple of days, and Arie says his level of mastery is on par with a third-year student. His style is erratic, and he’s got some issues with discipline, but so far he’s above and beyond what she would have expected.” He then pointed to Lily. “Lily was able to control her abilities quickly. Not just that, but she’s able to control the voltage and the strength of her current quickly. According to Arie, she’s seen Lily do this with her Lightning Magic that graduates of the academy couldn’t do. Most of the others are struggling with their abilities, but not those two. You want to know what sets them apart from the others?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“They both had an interest in their fields,” he said. “Raine wants to be a firefighter, and used to set fires to put them out. He got in trouble for it a few times, but he understands how fire works. As a chemical reaction, about the mixture of heat and gases. Lily studied to be an electrician before her mom passed away. She understands electricity. Both of them have at least a rudimentary understanding of their elements on a scientific level, and while they lack refinement, Arie says they’re more versed in their abilities than third-year students at the Academies.”
“So why are you telling me?”
Boomer smirked. “Seems like something you’d want to know.”
“And what about you?” Andy said. “Why are you here? You a Mage, too?”
“Just volunteering,” Boomer replied. “I’m unemployed at the moment, and Lily said she could use the extra help.” Andy raised an eyebrow. Andy felt a stab of scepticism over his words, but couldn’t quite tell if he was lying or not.
Nonetheless, Boomer had called it. He was there to evaluate. Only, it wasn’t just the Mages.
“You were going to college, right?” he asked. “Psych major?”
Boomer nodded. “University. I just finished my undergrad last year,” he said.
“What were you going to do with your degree?”
“Help,” Boomer said. “Help people who need it. Fix people who were broken. Listen to them when they need it.”
“So you’d say you’re intuitive?”
Boomer looked over to him suspiciously. “Intuitive enough to know you’re working an angle right now. What is it?”
“You know this military initiative they’re working on?”
“Yeah, the Ladysmith Defence Department? I’ve heard a little.”
“We’ve got four branches. Army, Navy, Air Force and Intelligence.”
“What’s that got to do with me? I’m not a soldier.”
“Not looking for a soldier. Looking for someone educated.” He glanced over at him. “Young. Preferably with a background in psychology and good communication skills. Someone who can think for himself and keep his head in tough situations. Sorta like that wyvern thing the other day.”
“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
“I haven’t asked anything yet. But if I were to ask, I already think I’m talking to the right person.”
Boomer remained silent for a moment. “What’s the job description?”
Andy shrugged. “Still working on that. Can’t say it’ll be danger-free. Can’t say you’ll be kept safe and cozy behind a desk. We’re on a deadline, so we need a leg up on whatever exists in this place, and you said it yourself.” He gestured toward Lily and Raine. “Modern education gives us that leg up. Most people around here probably think Jung is an age range. Someone who can sift out the wheat from the chaff among the Pactlanders is exactly the leg up I’m talking about.”
“You want me to spy for you?”
“I want you to keep your eyes and ears open.” He motioned toward Arie. “We don’t know much about her, but we’re showing her a lot of trust. I’d feel more comfortable knowing her angle before I let them give her the keys to the city.”
“Her angle is simple,” Boomer said. “She’s got a complicated past she doesn’t want to dwell on, and is looking for a future for her and her brother. She thinks she’s found it here. If not, she’ll move on.”
“You seem pretty sure of that.”
“You said it yourself. I’m intuitive.”
Andy chuckled, then paused. “We’ve been questioning that prisoner,” he said, changing the subject. “The Vectoran?”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “We got the location of a camp,” he said. “Forty men, about a half-day southwest of us. Then their main base. They call it Anastae. Tens of thousands, we’re told. About three days south, near the coast. We figure we got another few days before we start hearing from the Vectorans again.”
“Why do I get the impression you’re making a big ask?”
Andy looked him in the eye. “We need eyes on this place. Modern eyes. Understanding eyes. Lieutenant Syrel with the Halish forces has agreed to lend us a couple of his men. We’re still working out the details, but we need someone young, intuitive, and cool under pressure to go down with them and report back.”
“And I was your first choice?”
“Right now?” Andy asked. He laughed. “Kid, you’re my only choice. But don’t feel like you have to do it.” He patted Boomer on the leg and stood up. “You think about it. I’m not going to send you down there unprepared, and you still have time while we work out the kinks of the plan. But once you’ve thought it over, come down to the trailer park. Or don’t. If I don’t see you, I’ll know your answer.”
“And if I decide I don’t want to?”
Andy shrugged. “I’ll figure something else out. Don’t worry about it right now. But let me know.”