Day 1, Afternoon

“Hey, I could fight better if I knew that light magic you use,” Vaozey said as we sat in the back of the wagon.

“Are you asking me to teach it to you?” I asked, and she huffed out a few laughs.

“Okay, can you please show me how to use it?” Vaozey asked, sounding artificially polite. “I haven’t had much of a chance to use ‘heat’ magic properly, but now that I know I can use magic, shouldn’t I learn more kinds?”

“I don’t think you can use this,” I replied, making a dim orb above my hand. Vaozey reached out, running her fingers through it, then frowning.

“Why?” she asked.

“You control magic through reflex, and learn it through sensory input synesthesia,” I explained. “Light doesn’t cause much sensory input besides stimulation to the eyes. I can’t think of a method for you to produce it.”

“Couldn’t we just do the same thing we did for the fire?” Vaozey asked.

“I highly suspect you would just end up manifesting light inside your eyeballs and blinding yourself, if it worked at all,” I replied. Vaozey frowned, then grunted and grabbed her left side. Fourth time today so far, I thought.

“Well how did you learn it then?” she asked. “Did you just make it with your mind like everyone else seems to do? Why can’t they all use it?” I sighed, and let the light go out.

“What do you know about air?” I asked.

“Why does that matter?” Vaozey asked back.

“Light magic of this variety is produced by causing electron excitation in the air molecules-” I started, suppressing a smile as I saw Vaozey start to roll her eyes.

“You could’ve just said it was too hard for them,” she grumbled. “Seytoydh prodigies…”

“Try to manifest a gentle heat instead of a searing one,” I advised. “Your main issue is probably control, judging by how you’ve burned yourself whenever I’ve seen you light a fire. Once you can warm yourself comfortably, try warming one hand using the other from some distance away. Then try doing it without using your eyes, and try it on some food or water the same way.”

“What a formidable technique,” Vaozey snarked. “My meals will never be cold again.”

“If you can do the latter, you’ll be able to fry brains inside their skulls like I can, most likely,” I replied. “That’s a useful combat skill, isn’t it?” Though Vaozey tried to pretend she wasn’t interested, she did as I advised, and the wagon became quiet again.

Day 1, Midnight

“Why don’t your people use shields?” I asked in the middle of the night, unable to sleep as raindrops pattered against the exterior fabric of the stopped wagon.

“You’re lucky I’m still awake,” Vaozey grumbled. “What do you mean, shields?”

“Am I using the right word?” I asked. “A flat shape made of some durable material attached to the non-dominant hand, used in combat for blocking incoming attacks.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the right word,” Vaozey replied. “Well, soldiers use them, so I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why not mercenaries?” I clarified.

“They’re unlucky,” Vaozey replied, as though her explanation was sufficient. We were both quiet for a little while as I tried to figure out exactly what she could have meant. “Let me guess, you don’t get it,” she added.

“That’s right,” I said, getting a sigh in response.

“Spearmen use them in the military,” Vaozey explained. “But, spearmen also suffer the heaviest casualties during combat. Usually, they’re fighting kehpveht, yihzhae, or other powerful magic users, so you can imagine how that goes for them. Over time, they just sort of fell out of use for common mercenaries.”

“But, if anything, the shields are the reason the casualties aren’t higher,” I responded.

“Yeah well, they’re also a bit cowardly,” Vaozey replied. “If you’re looking to hire someone, would you rather hire the guy who hides behind a piece of metal and pokes his enemy to death with ten friends, or the loner with a big sword who doesn’t need to use a shield?”

“That… really doesn’t make any sense,” I admitted.

“Maybe not to you,” Vaozey replied. “But then again, half the shit you do makes no sense to anyone else.”

“I would hire the person who looks most likely to survive the job,” I said.

“Well if you’re ever hiring a mercenary, feel free to pick one with a shield,” Vaozey laughed derisively. “That is, if you can find one.”

Day 2, Mid-morning

“Cool mine down too,” Vaozey said, holding out her metal water bottle.

“I told you, it takes a lot of energy,” I replied. “More than heating something by at least a factor of one hundred.”

“I don’t see how making water a bit cooler would take that much power,” Vaozey muttered, just loud enough that I knew she wanted me to hear it.

“It’s because the process is imprecise,” I tried to explain. “Essentially, I have to lightly add heat along certain-”

“Yeah yeah I heard you last time,” Vaozey sighed. “You’re not using that power anyway, are you? We’re just sitting here in this stupid wagon trying not to groan too much. Can’t you just cool it down? The humidity from the rain last night is killing me.”

“Fine,” I relented, taking the water bottle from her. About a minute later I returned it, after making it cool enough to form condensation on the exterior.

“Thanks,” Vaozey grunted, and she took a sip. “Gods, that’s good. Cooler than a river.”

“You can remove your armor if you want to cool down,” I suggested. I had done the same earlier in the morning and was bare-chested.

“You’d like th-” Vaozey started, but then she paused and her expression turned stern. “No, I think I’ll keep it on.”

“Suit yourself,” I shrugged.

Two long days into our journey we arrived at the border between our current province, Mehzowrow, and Yuwkiyciya, the neighboring province. I had seen it coming from many kilometers off during the caravan’s morning meal since the trees had thinned out somewhat and we were descending a hill. A massive rock wall between three and four meters in height was built along it, stretching off to the northwest and southeast in a remarkably straight line until it disappeared over the horizon. Our path was to intersect with the wall at a perpendicular angle, going through what looked like a guard post.

When we arrived, the leader of the post began talking to our driver, going through a bunch of documentation with him and conducting what sounded like a standard interview. The covered wagon Vaozey and I were riding in also had a few crates in the back that needed to be examined, so there was no way for us to avoid detection. At least the repellent is concealed somewhere else, I thought, We’ll have plausible deniability if these smugglers get caught. The atmosphere in the wagon grew tense as the guards and caravan members chatted about tidbits of news that couldn’t possibly have been more irrelevant to me.

“Gods,” Vaozey winced quietly, tightening her jaw and clenching a fist. The pain of the implanted bags had been getting worse over the last few days, and Vaozey’s tolerance for it seemed less than mine. Then again, her situation is probably worse as well, I considered, if the facial implants I had in Vehrehr are any indication, her healing magic has probably caused an extreme amount of swelling by now.

“Just bear with it,” I said quietly. “It won’t take more than an hour or so, think of something else in the meantime.”

“I could use some blue leaf right about now,” Vaozey chuckled painfully. “You wouldn’t happen to have any left, would you?”

“I wish I did,” I replied. “I could have sold it and bought a more normal method of transport.”

“You know what, seyt this,” Vaozey coughed. “Choke me out and tell them I’m sleeping.”

“What?” I hissed.

“You heard me,” Vaozey said, gesturing for me to come over. “I know you can do it, and it’ll get me a few minutes of peace. I don’t want to deal with these border guard idiots and I’m likely to snap at them if I have to right now.” She’s not wrong, I thought.

“Fine,” I grunted, putting my arm around her neck and bracing myself for a sleeper hold. I squeezed tightly, and in just a few seconds Vaozey went limp. I kept pressure for a few more seconds then let go, laying Vaozey out on the floor of the wagon and closing her half-open eyes to give her the appearance of sleep.

“I’ll need to talk to the passengers,” I heard the border guard of the post say, and I quickly got back into my normal seat. Th’shiyah Seh’sp, I reminded myself, don’t need to worry about Vaozey, I can say she ate something that made her sick last night. Thankfully food poisoning still affects these people. I’m from Yahn Gwah, half Uwlsayniyahn, going to Muhryehv for work. The border guard, a rough-looking man with a shaven head and no beard, pulled the flaps aside on the wagon. His eyes tracked from me to Vaozey, then to the boxes, and finally back to me again.

“She ate something that made her feel sick,” I said, playing up my fake accent. “She is fine, but she did not sleep last night. Please, do not wake her.”

“I see,” the border guard said. “And you are?”

“Th’shiyah Seh’sp,” I said, almost stumbling with the name’s awkward pronunciation. “I am a mercenary going to Muhryehv in search of work.”

“That is what it says here,” the border guard said, looking at a piece of paper in his hand. “Could you step out for a moment?” As I stood up to comply, I could feel the masses inside me shifting around, and I had an idea. Gripping them with force magic, I did my utmost to keep them in place, then walked down and out of the wagon for the first time in over a day. My legs were stiff, so I stretched them as the border guard examined me.

“Is there some problem?” I asked.

“You look a little big for the description,” he said.

“My father was from Uwlsayniyah,” I explained, sprinkling a hint of seasoned annoyance into my respectful tone. “I am sorry, I do hear that observation a lot here.”

“I’ll bet you do,” the border guard chortled. “Could you tell me what your entry number is?” I froze, looking at him, then I looked at the driver who was watching on nervously.

“I do not know about such a thing,” I replied, trying to sound sheepish. “Am I supposed to have a number?”

“You got one when you made port at the border,” the border guard told me. “I just need it to report which province you’ll be in now. It’s standard procedure.” Memories of every time I crossed a provincial border in Uwriy popped into my head, and I realized I had probably never gone through the complete process even once.

“I… ah…” I mumbled. “This is embarrassing, but the ship I was on was attacked by a taaleylngehvay and ended up sinking. We swam to shore, and were taken in by the people of… er…” I struggled to come up with the name of a port city. Owsahlk was in this province, right? I tried to remember on the fly. “Owsahlk,” I finished, deciding to just go with the story.

“How long ago was this?” the border guard asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Four years,” I lied, making up an amount of time that was long enough that I figured records would be hard to find on the fly, but not so long that it seemed unreasonable. “I have worked as a freelance mercenary since then, doing odd jobs like guarding, fighting bandits, helping find criminals-”

“You’re telling me you’ve never been affiliated with a company,” the border guard said.

“Never,” I replied. “They would not have me, as I am not Uwrish.” The border guard frowned, then rubbed his head and sighed.

“I don’t think that’s the reason,” he grumbled. “Then again, if it was Owsahlk, and four years ago…” He sighed again and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “Someone should have told you how to register yourself. How well did you speak Uwrish when you arrived?”

“Not… well,” I admitted.

“Can’t we overlook this?” the nearby smuggler asked, trying to sound desperate. “I didn’t know, and we’re on a tight deadline.”

“I’ll make a note of this,” the border guard said to him, before turning to me. “You get to a guard post once you’re in Muhryehv and get registered, because if you try to cross any border out of Yuwkiciyah without one, you’ll be in some deep trouble.”

“Thank you,” the smuggler smiled.

“And her?” the border guard asked. “She foreign-born too? It says Uwrish here, but that can change over time.”

“No, born Uwrish,” I replied.

“Black hair, that’s a bit unusual in these parts,” he remarked. “Almost looks like one of those Dahbkaov nobles.” Now that’s a place I’ve never heard of, I thought, trying to recall the map I had seen months ago.

“Zhihl never speaks of her parentage much,” I said. “I thought it impolite to ask, so I cannot say if you are correct or not. However, neither of us are very wealthy people.”

“Could be a distant relation,” the border guard shrugged. “My mother-in-law was the same, fifth daughter of some rural baronet and barely two ngeyt to rub together. Anyway, I won’t hold you up any longer. Talk to the guard in Muhryehv about getting an entry number. May you be favored.”

“You as well, thank you,” I replied, not quite returning the farewell just in case knowing it sparked some kind of suspicion. Once I was back in the wagon I let the packages go and exhaled, feeling a wave of pain radiate out from below my kidneys. I’ll need to refrain from doing that too much, I thought, they’ve shifted around a bit now. Once the wagons got rolling again, I leaned against the boxes beside me and closed my eyes, slipping into an afternoon nap.

I woke up near sunset to the sounds of people yelling. As I struggled to get my eyes to focus, someone ripped open the back flaps of the wagon and grabbed my leg, which sent a jolt of adrenaline through my body. Instinctively searing them with heat magic, I pulled away and drew my sword, crushing the packages in my gut painfully as my assailant withdrew, swearing violently. I stepped out through the curtains of my own accord to a scene of our caravan guards fighting it out with a group of bandits, and a second later Vaozey poked her head out behind me.

“Stay inside,” I said. “Neither of us should be fighting, and they don’t need our help.”

“I don’t care,” Vaozey growled, taking a deep breath and stepping out of the wagon. She winced as her feet landed on the ground, but then grunted and pulled out her mace, heading for the nearest guard and bandit before I grabbed her shoulder.

“If you get stabbed-” I began before being interrupted by an impact on my ribs. Looking down, I saw a crossbow bolt sticking out of my gambeson, and when I looked up I saw the bandit who shot me grinning.

“I’m wearing a seytoydh breastplate,” Vaozey retorted. “It’s not the same as a gambeson, I’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t a debate,” I said, pulling the bolt from my armor and levitating it above my forearm. The crossbow bandit’s eyes went wide, and he stopped reloading his weapon. Half a second later he went down as I shot his bolt back at him with magic, catching him in the throat. “Get back in the wagon, that’s an order.”

“But-” she started to protest.

“Get back in or I’ll bring you back in myself,” I said.

“I-” Vaozey said, only managing to get one word out before I tapped her on the forehead with my left hand. An electric discharge went through her, knocking her out instantly, and I caught her over my shoulder before she could crumple to the ground. I carried her back inside, then put her on the ground just as I had after the chokehold, drawing the curtains closed behind us and checking my crossbow wound. Ten centimeters lower and it would have hit the package, I thought as I looked at the small dot of wet blood and listened to the battle outside, Maybe now that we’re over the border, we can remove these things.

Our side won, losing one guard to the bandits’ five fighters. The humans of the caravan considered it a victory, leading me to wonder exactly what their definition of victory was since most of my fights in Uwriy had been significantly more one-sided. The caravan stopped for the night later, stripped the bandit corpses they had been dragging along behind the wagon, and made sure there was food for Vaozey and me. She still hadn’t woken up, but she was breathing, so it was only a matter of time.

After eating, I tried to sleep again, but since I had been sleeping nearly sixteen hours a day my body outright refused to rest more. Meanwhile, Vaozey still hadn’t woken up, and she was sleeping even more than I was on average. If she was awake, maybe I’d ask her to knock me out, I thought half-jokingly, but then an idea popped into my head. It should work on me, right? I thought, warming up another charge in my hand. I’ll just be gentle, like I did with her, and put it right-

The feeling of being struck in the face pulled me back to consciousness, and my eyes opened to see a livid Vaozey looming over me.

“You absolute npoyt,” she swore. “Why did you do that?” The fuzziness of dreamless unconsciousness started to recede, and I remembered my situation and what she was talking about.

“You weren’t following orders,” I said, sitting up and causing yet another explosion of pain by flexing my abdominal muscles.

“I was about to go back in!” Vaozey hissed. “What if we had lost? Did you even think of that?”

“We weren’t going to lose,” I said. “Our people were better armed and better trained. Meanwhile, if you had been shot in the wrong spot, you would be dead right now.”

“I don’t need you protecting me,” Vaozey growled. “It was just a few bandits. I could have taken all of them on my own if I wasn’t being used as a container to smuggle drugs for some ngoyth teylm. Even like this, the chances they would have-”

“But you are being used like that,” I interrupted. “Our role is not to fight unless absolutely necessary. I gave you an order, I even let you voice your opinion, and you did not comply. If I had refused the order of a superior in that manner, I would have been immediately executed.” Deactivated and decommissioned, I corrected in my mind, but it’s basically the same thing. Though she wasn’t happy, Vaozey didn’t argue with me, and instead just huffed and looked away, crossing her arms.

“What did you even do to me?” she asked after about a minute. “One minute I was standing, and the next I was here. It was like you just ripped my soul out or something.” She looked over at me, then suddenly her face changed from curiosity to concern. “Don’t tell me that’s what you actually did.”

“It was an electric shock,” I said, snapping a bolt between my fingers for demonstration.

“Rehv’s binding,” Vaozey grumbled, frowning.

“Not exactly,” I explained. “Rehv’s binding is a technique that uses alternating current, and I can’t quite figure out how they do it. What I did to you was much more similar to creating that spark just now, a collection of energy, then a discharge.”

“You shot a small bolt of lightning through me,” Vaozey summarized.

“If that’s how you want to think of it, yes,” I replied. “The energy levels involved were much smaller though.”

“Sounds like it could have killed me,” Vaozey growled.

“I did it to someone before entering Towrkah, and they were fine,” I shrugged. He didn’t die, at least, I thought, Healing magic can fix almost anything, so it was safe.

“Don’t do it to me again,” Vaozey said. “I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy it if I could knock you out with a touch. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.”

“I did it to myself after eating today,” I replied. “It was painless and instant. I barely even have a headache.”

“Why would you do that?” Vaozey asked, sounding utterly bewildered.

“Couldn’t fall asleep,” I replied. “I might do it again, it’ll help pass the time faster.” Vaozey seemed to pause for a moment, then she grunted in agreement.

“I take it back, hit me with it again,” she requested. “It put me down a lot longer than the chokehold, and you’re right. I’d rather be knocked out for the rest of this trip if possible.”