The Spellforger

by Lucas Rivera

Tom opened one eye slowly as the early sun rays crept through the splintered shutters. Dust motes danced lazily in the pools of soft light, akin to snowflakes in their delicate beauty. Slowly, the Ranger shifted in the bed and opened his other eye.

This eye beheld the darkness of his room, fighting a losing battle against the sunrise. Again Tom shifted and sat up, stretching and groaning slightly. He hated sleeping indoors, it was too soft. The bed gave too much, he felt as though he wasn't supported at all. He'd take sleeping outside on solid ground over this ramshackle mess any day. Tom glanced to his side and saw that Cook was still snoring away in his bed.

Funny how the man could sleep silent as a cat and wake at the drop of a hat out in the wilds, but as soon as a door was locked he slept like a mountain and snored like a bull walrus. "Must be an old campaigner's trick," thought Tom as he silently slipped off the bed and shrugged his coat on, making sure it covered his dual slingers. Then he crept to the door, opened it, and stepped out lightly, donning his hat as he did so.

As he turned to face out into the corridor he found himself face-to-face with Jolene. Her auburn hair swished as she stopped hurriedly to avoid walking into him in the cramped corridor. It seemed that she had just gotten out of her room as well. Tom noted she carried her slinger on her back even here. He awkwardly shifted to the side and gestured for her to go first saying, "Can't sleep in either?"

She hesitated a moment before brushing past him saying, "No, 'fraid I've been waking up with the sun too long to stop doing it now. You as well?"

They took the stairs down to the common room, "Yes, for much the same reason as you I think."

"And what reason would that be?"

He gave a half grin as they sat together at a weary table with a pot of coffee already laid out and quickly ordered breakfast, "You're afraid that if you stay still for too long, even a few hours, whatever you're runnin' from will catch up."

She was silent for a long time considering his words before twitching her nose and asking, "If you're so smart then what exactly am I runnin' from?"

The ranger shrugged and poured a mug of coffee for himself before offering to pour for the gambler as well, which was answered with a curt nod, "Hell if I know, responsibilities, crimes, duties, regrets. List goes on and on... but it always looks the same. Tense in a seat, eyes flicking every which way, hand always close to a knife or slinger."

Jolene considered him carefully over her mug before slowly lifting it to her lips and drinking. As she set it down she flashed a rueful smile at him and said, "You're more clever than you look. Not that that's saying much mind you."

Tom returned the smile and leaned back in his chair, "I'll take what I can get".

He pressed the issue no further, if the woman didn't want to share her past it was her business, but he wanted to get a read on her. He disliked traveling with someone he didn't know, it was like randomly selecting a spell and firing. They carried on the conversation to different subjects, all much less personal, the weather, the various mystical species found deeper in the frontier lands, the price of food. The conversation was tentative, almost like two wolves meeting each other in the woods and carefully snapping at each other, trying to see if violence was necessary. Slowly, however, the snapping ceased.

Laughter grew more common and they relaxed in their seats slightly more. The food arrived and conversation stalled while they ate, both ravished from so long on the road. They finished their meals quickly and as Jolene was wiping her mouth with a ragged napkin Tom asked idly, "So have ya made up your mind about stayin' with us or not?"

Jolene's hand stopped for a moment before continuing to clean her face. She tried to feign casualness as she answered, "Not quite... Why?"

Tom tipped his hat back and met her emerald gaze, "It just seems to me that you know your way around this area. I'd like to have that kind of intelligence when I'm ridin'".

The Gambler snorted as she reached for her near-empty mug, "Intelligence? What are ya? Some kinda general?"

He suppressed annoyance. He couldn't be so free with his words. His past was his own, and he'd like it to stay that way. "You know what I mean."

She pressed her lips together and took one last swig of her mug, "I suppose I do".

The silence between them grew for a time before finally,

Tom puffed with exasperation and leaned forward in his chair, "Well woman?"

The lithe woman smiled softly and held his eyes briefly before saying, "I'll think about it, spell slinger". She then stood delicately, grabbing her slinger as she did so, and sashayed out of the room. The Ranger groaned in annoyance and leaned back in his chair.

He stayed there for a long while, considering the strange character that was Jolene. She was clearly a fighter, she carried more knives than he could count hidden in her clothes, not to mention that nasty spell slinger ever strapped to her back. Furthermore, she had been here a while, that was obvious from how she knew about the land and where to resupply. And yet... he got the feeling she didn't choose this life.

The gambler carried her weapons with a reluctant air. She was a puzzle, one that undoubtedly intrigued him. Although perhaps he was only interested because she had pretty eyes and a ready smile. He shook his head hard and drained his mug. Tom O'Conner had had his fill of beautiful women, either she came along or she didn't, burn her either way. He threw a few copper coins onto the table for payment before striding out of the room himself, intending to restock on spells, food, and well... everything.

Jolene fidgeted with her sleeves as she walked down the main street of the town. The road was clogged with people. People bartering with stalls in the street, people steering horse carts as they threaded through the crowds, people hurrying to the fields for a day of hard labor. This was possibly the most prosperous town in the whole of the frontier, and it showed.

The roads were paved rather than using packed dirt like most towns. Colorful, freshly painted signs swung off chains fastened to shops depicting their specialty. Every kind of profession was found in this settlement, from coopers to wheelwrights and from armorsmiths to spellforgers.

Again Jolene played with the cuff of her sleeve. Why wasn't she just saying no to that flaming man? She'd done it dozens of times, refusing company, avoiding connections or friendships, and riding to the next town when she started to get comfortable. It was a simple pattern, easy, and reliable. And one she was now questioning for the first time in years because of a damned ranger.

A quick flick of a wrist sent a knife shooting into her waiting hand and she studied her reflection in the narrow band of steel. What was making her hesitate? Another deft movement sent the knife back up her wrist and she turned to a stall selling freshly baked pastries.

Perhaps she should consider staying with them... she could always leave later of course. She selected one of the tarts and dropped a copper on the stall for payment. Jolene felt better about her decision the more she thought of it. Yes, there was certainly strength in numbers and just because she had to travel with the group didn't mean any friendships needed to form. She would be cool, distant. Only there to navigate and they would give her increased security. And that would be all. Simple quid pro quo, nothing more.

The gambler nodded decisively and bit into her pastry. She strode away from the stall and her thoughts started to drift to the Ranger's deep brown eyes and how intensely they had stared at her when he had asked if she would stay. Perhaps a little light flirting wouldn't be amiss... but only for fun.

The distant beating of hooves on the dry frontier dirt drew Jolene's attention from her musings. She turned her head to survey the land surrounding the town. The area directly around the city was relatively flat and fertile, good for farming. The river undoubtedly helped with that. Further into the frontier, however, the flat land gave way to sharp plateaus and rocky land. As she looked out into those plateaus she could distantly make out a large crowd of figures emerging from them, and if the dust surrounding them was any indication they were moving fast. Jolene studied them a moment further and could see they were all men. That many men moving as a group in the frontiers, it could be nothing but... this was one gamble she wouldn't take. She began to move briskly back in the direction of the inn, pushing her way through the crowd in her haste. A group of men that big usually turned out to be one thing. An outlaw gang.

Tom strode down the street and kept a keen eye out for a spellforger. He had already visited several grocers and butchers for rations, all of which were already stashed in the saddlebags of Cook's shabby dun and Shadow. Now he was searching for a place to replenish his ammo bag, which hung a little too lightly on his hip for his liking. Finally, he spotted what he was looking for, a tiny building squished between a large bank and what looked to be the town jail. Hanging on rusted chains hung a small faded plaque with a spell shot, the common sign of a spellforger.

As Tom entered he was hit with a bout of whiplash. He stood just inside a huge library with shelves that extended to dizzying heights before being lost in a nondescript green haze. All 'round him papers and pages littered the floor, some looking as though they had been torn right out of a book. He looked behind him at the open door, which still let in the cheerful sunlight from the town. He quickly stepped back through the door and examined the shop from the outside once more. It looked no different than it had before, a small cramped shop between two buildings. He stepped back inside and again felt like he had been spun around and hung upside down.

"Do you like my trick?" called out a reedy voice, it seemed to be coming from behind one of the shelves.

Tom hesitated a moment before answering, "Not really, it gives me one hell of a headache."

"Yes, yes, quite right. It takes a while to get used to." The voice seemed to be getting closer, "But I handle it well enough now."

The ranger carefully moved farther into the building, peering in the gaps in the shelves to try to find the source of the voice, "Well that doesn't really help me now does it?"

There was a pause before the voice answered again, slightly rueful, "No I suppose not". It seemed that the voice was switching directions every time it spoke, sometimes in front of Tom, sometimes distantly to his right, and then others like the source was right behind him.

He felt his hand drifting towards his slinger as he asked, "If you don't mind telling me where exactly you are, I'd like to buy some spell shots."

"Oh, is that so?" suddenly the voice was right behind him and Tom spun around to the single most puzzling character he had ever laid eyes on. Before him stood a squat little man who looked positively ancient. His wrinkled face was crinkled into a mysterious little smile with white wisps visible just above each ear and a stubby nose. He wore a long flowing cloak emblazed with white stars that looked to be much too large for him.

"Well right this way if you please!", the strange little man said, tramping deeper into the library.

Tom reluctantly followed him, looking every which way about him. He didn't like that the man had snuck up on him like that, it had been a long time since anyone could catch him by surprise. It was almost as though... as though he had appeared there.

"It's been far too long since I've had a customer," the old fellow said. A large alcove in the library came into view, it seemed to be a workplace of sorts with several desks all littered with books, pages, flasks, and mechanisms Tom couldn't even begin to name.

"How long's it been?" Tom asked, mostly to keep polite conversation.

The spellforger swept one desk clear, scattering pages all around, "It was three years ago... or wait was it last weekend? To be frank, I don't know, I lose time as often as I lose my spectacles."

At this, Tom blinked before deciding this man was definitely, positively, completely insane. The old man dragged a case of empty spell shots onto the desk and looked up, "Now tell me, young man, what kinds of spells are you going to buy?"

He spoke with a strange tone, almost as though he was speaking an older version of english no one spoke in anymore. The ranger opened his ammo pouch and took stock of what he had before answering, "I need at about fourty of 'em in total, say a dozen ice, another dozen of Earth, only a half dozen fire, and the rest wind," Tom considered his order for a moment before adding, "and make 'em as malleable as you can, I hate it when all my spells can do is fly straight and smash into something."

The old man waved his hand and a battered pair of spectacles floated over to him and settled on his nose, "Hmmmm you like to improvise eh?", he peered at Tom over his spectacles, "You know that makes the spells harder to control yes? Easier for something to go wrong..."

Tom felt himself reach up to his side before catching himself. That had happened a long time ago, "I'll take my chances."

The spellforger chuckled and bent down to begin his work, his hands beginning to glow a deep green, "Suit yourself young one. Small little collection of spells. No lava spells, no lighting spells, no spirit spells... are you sure you don't want any spirit spell shots? Those can be quite handy".

The ranger crossed his arms, "When I cast spells it's rarely to heal".

The man looked up from his magic and cryptically said, "I think you should consider them anyways, I've a feeling you'll need them very soon".

"Why do you say that?"

There was a long pause in the conversation as the two men met each other's eyes before the spellforger turned back to the spell shots and mumbled, "Just a suspicion, nothing more. Take my advice or not, but a life where all you do is kill isn't much of a life now is it?"

Tom shuffles uncomfortably before finally saying, "Fine, I'll take a couple of spirit shots." The wrinkled man said nothing as he imbued the final spell shots with magic.

Suddenly he looked up, slightly alarmed, "Hmmmm. I think it's time for you to go young man".

"What're you talking about? I still need my shots and you need payment!"

The spellforger hurriedly shoved the spell shots into a box and thrust them into the ranger's hands, "No need for payment, just remember this: sometimes you have to let go of what you've lost to save what you have. Goodbye now!"

And with that the ancient spellforger snapped his fingers and Tom was suddenly back in front of the tiny building crammed between the bank and the jail. He cursed and began to hammer on the locked door, demanding answers. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the spellforger was no longer in a talkative mood.

Suddenly Tom became aware of screams and another sound... spell shots. With a curse, the ranger dumped his new spell shots into his ammo pouch and threw away the box. He checked his slingers and saw he had five Earth spells, two ice spells, three fire spells, and a wind spell between the two of them. He hesitated for a moment before reaching into his ammo pouch and loading a spirit shot as well before running in the direction of the screams. As he ran he was struck with an unexpected thought, he hoped Jolene was ok.