Be Thou My Good: Chapter 15 (Patreon)

A chapter of the Practical Guide to Evil cross as well! Link to the complete collection of this story at the bottom, I'll be backposting the earlier chapters for those who want to read the entire story on patreon!

Chapter 15: Back and There Again

“Refuge is a full town, by the lake,” Hunter said. “I grew up there, until the Lady took notice of me.”

I nodded, carefully avoiding any mention of a bakery. “I imagine several of Ranger’s apprentices come from Refuge?”

He grunted. “Some. Ranger brings other back if she likes the look of them.” If looks could kill, Archer would be lying on the ground. “Betimes they think it makes them special.”

Ahead, Indrani laughed on her horse, but didn’t turn.

“How many named are there?” I asked.

“Too many.”

It had been that kind of morning.

Part of me had expected something a confrontation, a calling to account. I was ready even to awaken alone in an empty came, with nothing but a smoldering fire and depressions in the grass.

I might have preferred either of those outcomes.

Then the story would be finished; the wound would be lanced. Instead, it festered in the air between us.

“Is that why you hate each other so much?” I asked.

Hunter snorted, burrowing deeper into his bearskin. “Not on your life.” He turned, looking me dead in the eye. “I meant what I said earlier.” About how Archer only saw me as an easy lay, or something worse.

I could feel the silence emanating from ahead of us.

“Tell me more about Refuge,” I replied.

“Suit yourself.” Hunter shrugged. “No one gets up to shit; know that the named will smack you down if you try.”

I clicked my tongue. “And none of you are friends?”

“Few.”

“Why haven’t you all killed each other?” That seemed to be the default state for Named that didn’t get along.

Hunter gave a bark of laughter. “The Lady would cull us if we tried, or if we succeeded.”

I nodded. Ranger, the Lady of the Lake. A named so powerful that she created a nation under herself. Or at least, a citystate.

For all that Hunter called it a town, from what Hakram had told me, Refuge was larger than many of the cities of Callow. Those of Praes outstripped both, but as a desert empire that sustained itself on sorcery, the Dread Empire was more centralized than most of the Calernian continent.

But as to the conversation at hand, I asked, “And yet the name of her city is Refuge.”

“The Lady is no petty tyrant. She leaves us all to our own affairs until they interfere with her own. It is stale, unchanging.”

“Like joining the Lone Swordsman.”

Hunter shrugged. “I saw something worth fighting for more than another day of the same petty squabbles.”

I swallowed a smile. It shouldn’t be so amusing, how Archer and Hunter both hated the boredom, but hated each other more. “So, no great connection to the Kingdom of Callow, either?”

He spat to the side, bells ringing in his hair. “I’ve no truck with kings ordained by Above or Below. I thought there might have been a difference between the Blessed and the Damned, but I found little. For all her faults, the Lady rules by her own might, and cares little for the burdens of tyranny.”

I found it telling that he’d spoken longer now than on anything else.

“If Lady Ranger ever cared about what I had to say, I never would have left.”

Archer giggled. “Not even for your bonnie Daoine lass?”

“Perhaps I’d have stayed for her.” He met Indrani’s eyes. “Never dragged her back home.”

“I can see it,” Archer replied. “Those northerners are a real hard-bitten bunch. Practically perfect for you.”

“No one backbites harder than you, Drani.”

“You’re not even trying, John.” Archer met my eyes for a moment, before looking sharply away. “Now shut up for a bit. I need to concentrate.”

Hunter grunted. “You should be able to find a place to slip through here.”

“Sure, if you want to walk all the way back to Refuge,” Archer replied. “Or maybe I’ll just ride on your shoulders.”

Archer led us deeper between the oldgrown trees of southern Callow where the land started to rise into hills. Farther west, I knew lay the mountains that separated east from west. The West was ruled by the powers of Good, but though Callow was once counted among their number, the Callowans I’d met seemed to distrust their western neighbors almost as much as Praes.

Red the flowers, they sang, red the crown.

For maybe an hour, we picked our way deeper into the hills. The silence weighted heavily around us, a tapestry yet unwoven. I could see the lines stretching between us, words we’d spoken and had yet to speak. But I couldn’t find a way to cut through to the conversation we needed to have.

Once Archer had found what she was looking for, she spurred her horse up a sharp ridge, practically leaving the two of us in the dust. “Rough patch here.” Archer called over her shoulder, smile sharp. “Need a hand? I’ve got one to spare.”

I sighed. Now, that Archer was picking at both me and Hunter in even amounts, I found how quickly she’d switched from playful banter to cruel jabs... “Quite disconcerting,” I murmured.

She raised an eyebrow at the non-sequitur. “What is? My incredible sense of humor?”

“How much you remind me of her,” I replied.

Archer and Hunter shared a glance, before deciding to ignore that.

For my part, I wouldn’t have explained even if asked. I could see the difference in how she acted, after our talk last night, and it had only grown more obvious as the day wore on. The more Indrani began to act like my once closest friend turned betrayer, the less inclined I grew to share my thoughts with her.

She lacked the words to cut me, but to offer such easy closeness in this world, only to rip it capriciously away? That hurt in a new way.

“Welp.” Indrani put on a grin. “The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and our resident seer is spouting cryptic nonsense.” She snapped her reins. “Sounds like a perfect day to ride through the back ways.”

“We’re close then?” I asked.

“Closer than when we started this morning.”

I sighed, turning my gaze back to the Hunter. “How close are we?” I asked.

“Close. Unfortunately, she’ll be even more insufferable on the other side.”

Archer smirked. I got the sense that she was better at navigating the ‘back ways’ than Hunter, and wouldn’t let it go unremarked upon.

“I’m beginning to understand how things work in Refuge.”

Hunter grunted.

“Oh lay off, Taylor. He doesn’t want your pity.”

“I think he just doesn’t want your attention.” I met Indrani’s gaze head on. “Like I said, I’m beginning to understand.”

Archer shook her head. “The fecklessness of women.”

“That’s a good word,” I replied. “Feckless: irresponsible and lacking in character.”

She blew a raspberry at me. “I thought you were a tailor, not a teacher.”

“How clever.” A wan smile slipped across my cheeks.

Hunter chuckled. “Finally showing your true colors, ‘Drani?”

“Color your hide again, more like.”

And so, the bickering continued. I let out a sigh as the two of them devolved into sniping. It felt petty to compare Archer’s behavior to Emma’s. Indrani was more capable than my erstwhile friend had ever been. But what else could I call this behavior save for petty, juvenile, bullshit?

It grated so much that I almost missed the moment we slipped into a different world.

The weave passed over my like gossamer. Without realizing, I brushed a hand over my ear, as if to wave away something that wasn’t there. Then, my head snapped up.

Archer glanced over her shoulder. “Finally noticed?”

“What do you mean finally, it just changed.” My head snapped left and right, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. “Where are we?”

The woods had gone from hilly and bright to thick and shadowed in the span of a heartbeat. Dappled willows bowed over the path, offering cool shade in which to rest. Above the canopy had darkened to a rich, emerald green, and beneath our feet I saw riots of mushrooms breaking the undergrowth. All was cast in shades of twilight as if dipping into the edge of night.

“Elsewhere,” Hunter told me. Likewise, his eyes tracked the trees, and the shadows beneath their boughs. “Not Creation.”

Not on their world.

“But close.” The whisper escaped my lips unbidden. “The weave is different here, but it’s still here.”

Stronger even.

Archer reached back and smacked my knuckles.

I jerked back with a hiss. Glancing down, I saw my hand half outstretched, a moment from grasping at the threads of this reality.

“Normally,” Archer said, “I’m the first to leap before I look. But try to be a bit more careful around here.”

I nodded, drawing my hand back against my stomach. “And what lurks here that has you so wary?”

She grinned. “Things that hear when you say their names.”

“Wonderful.” I placed my hand on the saddle horn, wrapping the ivory fingers of my prosthetic over it like a cover. I did my best to ignore the tight-wrought weave that brushed against me with each step.

Harder to ignore came the way it snagged at me, threads I could not see beckoning me deeper into the narrative. They slipped off after but a moment, yet I knew I could follow them, slip into groves worn deep into the tapestry of this world.

Here, wherever here was, the story reigned. Follow the steps, and it would shape itself around you with barely more than a flick of your fingers.

“How terrifying,” I said.

Archer laughed quietly. “Well, I’m not saying I’d want to build a summer home here. But the trees are really quite lovely.”

“Yes.” My eyes traced the verdant emerald of the trees. If I looked a little harder, could I see when the leaves would fall, could I see the path of each leaf falling to the ground as it had been ordained?

“This way, Weaver, or I might end up leaving you here.”

My head snapped down at Archer’s voice.

She’d broken away from the easy path, picking a game trail gingerly through perfectly formed trees. She smirked, eyes flashing. “If you get stuck, you can play around to your heart’s content.”

I spurred my horse after the others. No matter how my new Name resonated with this place, it would be foolish to get lost here. No doubt the inhabitants would take umbrage.

Then a voice came from the forest. “Halt there.”

Ah, of course.

From around us rose darkly-cloaked figures armed with bow and sling. A cool air blew through the wood, and I felt the weave around us snap into shape.

“Tch.” Archer’s hand tightened around her bow, but that wasn’t the shape of the story.

I frowned; that wasn’t the direction the story felt like it should go, but I could see the threads around Archer about to snap. She could have chosen to follow the flow of the story, but easily slipped the groove. Meanwhile, despite her clear decision, the cloaked figures made no move.

I spurred my horse forward, blocking Hunter and Archer from the sight of our new friends. Ignoring Archer’s glare, I picked out the leader where he stood on a branch directly in our path. He wore a long cloak, dyed in dark green that rippled around his form. On his brow sat an unadorned circlet of dark metal, holding black hair off of his pointed ears.

An elf then, or a faerie? Thus far I’d heard of neither.

I’d call them elves until proven otherwise.

Still, the shape of the story felt clear as day to me, and as with every story, there was a way forward.

“We are but humble travelers three.” I nodded my head. “Venturing beyond yonder wood, we seek no quarrel, nor offer one.”

He snorted perfunctorily. “Insult is offered by your presence here, mortal.”

I tilted my head, trying to catch sight of the weave around us. The story we were in…I frowned. It seemed so firm and binding, but after seeing Archer ignore it, I felt compelled to try something.

I spread my arms.

“Then I bid you try us, should you find us so offensive.”

Behind me, I heard Archer’s bow snap up.

“In your hands be the decision,” I continued. “And on your head rest the cost.”

His frown deepened. I felt the narrative shift around us. I could almost make it out in full now.

Before, it had no doubt been something about three incautious travelers, and while we might have won free of that by strength of arm…

I liked the feel of the current story better, especially when the leader made no move to challenge it. Instead, he just continued, as if this had been the shape of the story all along.

“I am charged with the safety of these lands,” he said. “And while I have no quarrel with travelers—” Ignoring his previous statement entirely. “Honor demands I bar your way.”

“Please.” I could hear the grin in Archer’s voice. “Make my day for your honor.”

But he didn’t. He waited for my response. Like play actors.

I licked my lips. “Truly, a conundrum.” My empty words bought me some time to think. Perhaps the best option was to throw the narrative aside like Archer was about to do. The people of this realm felt almost rigid, and when faced with rigid opponents, my default answer was always to flip the table. Archer and Hunter were freshly blooded from Marcheford, and like as not would rip through nameless antagonists like paper.

Unless the narrative was not so easily cast aside.

“If honor is challenged,” I said. “Let a challenge be the answer.” The moment I made my choice, the words came to me. “Answer the riddle of the three travelers, and we shall accede to your demands.”

He raised an elegantly sculpted brow. “And if I fail to answer your riddle?”

“We only ask to be allowed to continue on our journey unimpeded.”

He hummed. “Very well.” With a wave of a hand, the rest of his party lowered their weapons. He dropped soundlessly to the forest floor.

Archer grumbled. “You’re no fun.”

I shrugged. “We might still be in for a fun time yet.” With a flick of the reigns, I moved my horse in front of Hunter before swinging out of the saddle. With calm steps, I came to stand before the elven man. His cloak blended into the dappled shadows of the forest, leaving his pale face a beacon in the dark.

“I shall ask but one riddle of we three travelers,” I said. “If it cannot be answered, or you answer wrong, we shall be free to continue our journey.”

His pale eyes regarded me, cold as meltwater. “Fairly bargained, fairly kept.” The words felt perfunctory, as the rest of him. “Ask then your riddle, so that sooner I may deliver you unto my liege for your trespasses.”

I nodded, humming.

There were many riddles I could use, an entire world’s worth, filled with things these elves had never seen. There were several I remembered from Tolkien alone, that remembering brought with them the memory of fond evenings with There and Back Again.

Of course, if we were talking about the Hobbit, my favorite riddle of all was the one that came with a helping of absolute bullshit.

Reaching over to my prosthesis, I popped it loose with a twist. A smooth cap of wood, lined with runes remained behind. I held the arm in my opposite hand, letting the wooding fingers flop down.

And then I asked, “How many hands do the three of us have?”

The elf snorted. “That is your riddle? Truly you could think of nothing better?” He shook his head. “T’would have been more clear-sighted to deliver yourself to my care, for I would have treated you better but for this farce.” He seemed even more offended by my riddle than us being here in the first place.

I smiled. “Provide your answer then, or let us ride on.”

His lip twisted. “I see clearly that you mean to trap me with words. I shall not allow it.” The sneer really was quite impressive. “You have five of flesh and bone, one of wood and stone.”

“Ah.” I waved my prosthesis. “But this—”

“Is still in your possession.” He stepped forward, cloak parting to reveal the hilt of a sword. “I have answered your riddle. Surrender, or else be relieved of all your hands and heads besides.”

“I would, truly.” My smile grew. “Had you answered correctly.”

“Your games—”

“Hunter,” I said. “Has but one hand.”

The pause hung in the air, weave pulling taut.

Hunter raised his arms from where they’d sat, neatly folded, in his lap.

I reattached my hand. “So you see, the answer is fourof flesh and bone.”

The elven man’s face twisted into a blistering glower, and I saw the rest of the story unfurl before me.

“I think I’ll take your tongue instead.” His sword cleared the sheath in a smooth stroke. No doubt it would have cleared through my neck as well, but my prosthetic hand on his shoulder pulled him to a stop.

Rather, the weight of the story did.

“You forsake your honor.”

I could tell he could feel the end of the tale as well, as he followed the steps into it with precise grace. “There is no honor in your trick, wench.”

“Then I declare you forsaken.” My grip tightened. “Unravel.”

He gasped, as the story pulled him apart at the seams. Sword fell from fading fingers as I remanded him to the weave. It hit the ground alone with his circlet.

Only the sable cloak remained in my hand. With a flourish, I set it over my own shoulders. The circlet I retrieved and held out before me with my hand of flesh and bone. “Will the next among you honor his oath?”

Another elf ghosted from the trees, taking the circlet with dainty fingers and setting it on her brow. “By my honor, the three of you are free to pass through these woods.”

I returned to my horse, and by the time I was back in the saddle, the rest of the elves had vanished as if they’d never been. All that remained of them was my nifty new cloak.

I turned to Archer. “How was that for fun?”

She popped her lips. “Not bad. Though.” She beckoned me over, popping open one of Hunter’s saddle bags.

Inside sat a skeletal hand.

I blinked.

“It’s Hunter’s,” Archer said. “Asked Robber for it. Little goblin tripped over himself to dig it up.”

I blinked again.

“At least it doesn’t have any flesh.”