Sixteen years old and already I had a price on my head in half the places I’d ever been. No money, no skills, and without that charm I’d be announcing my location to every mage in the borderlands any time I cast the one spell I was any good at.
Oh, and my travelling companions were an Argosi gambler who never gave me a straight answer and a homicidal squirrel cat whose favourite food was human eyeballs.
Welcome to the life of an outlaw spellslinger.
‘Well?’ Reichis asked.
(…) ‘I’m thinking.’
‘What’s to think about? We go in there, kill the people we don’t like and rescue the people we do. Simple.’
‘There are three strong men in there, probably with weapons. What are we supposed to do with them?’
‘Eat their tongues?’ he suggested. ‘Two for me, one for you?’
‘Beware the blood-red squirrel cat!’ he declared, grabbing onto the young man’s neck, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that no one but me could understand him. ‘I crave human flesh tonight, and I will drain the blood of every skinbag I catch!’
The poor guy began screaming his head off, trying to grab at Reichis but having no luck as the squirrel cat kept shifting position.
‘Why does the whole world hate me?’
‘Not everybody hates you, kid. There are entire countries full of people who haven’t met you yet.’
‘Well, I’m starting to hate both of you,’ Reichis grumbled. ‘And I’m hungry, so unless one of you is planning to feed me one of your ears for supper, let’s get out of this lousy wasteland and find a town with somebody who knows how to make butter biscuits.’
See, I wasn’t born to be an outlaw. Probably wasn’t built for any of this. But whatever life lay ahead of me was mine, paid for in full, and every point of light in the sky above was another path for me to follow.
And there sure are a lot of stars up there.