Nathan sat at the base of a tree thicker than some buildings, trading stares with the baby in his arms. The little green thing was none the worse for wear after their long trek from the pool, having slept for most of it. Nathan envied her so much it hurt.

"So... like your name, kid?"

She blinked, then turned into the folds of her blankets.

Maggie had built a small fire in a gully between two of a great tree's roots, and only the firelight and feeble crackling of the blood pine kept the silent dark at bay. She hunched close to the fire, shivering. She hadn't said a word since the confrontation with the fae. Neither had Japheth. He was staring into the fire, scarcely moving. Only Jabberwisp had acknowledged Nathan in any way, and then only to tug on his pants' leg so Nathan would set him in the cobbling's customary place. The little golem was there now, curled in a ball.

"...J?" Nathan whispered.

"Yes, young master?"

"Am... am I going to die?"

The little man of twigs slowly unwound, his whole body cocked in puzzlement as he turned to face Nathan. "What an odd question. Why do you ask?"

Nathan stared at the cobbling. "Why do I ask? I tricked a goddess of the wood. I'm betting she wants my balls for dinner, and those two..." he indicated Maggie and Japheth. "They're ignoring me as though I'm already dead!"

"Ah," the cobbling rustled. "I understand. As you well know, she cannot harm you, nor lead harm to you. The influence of the fae, while mighty, wanes at the edge of the forest, and you are under Japheth's protection. Don’t come back to the wood, young master, and she will not trouble you. Now we have only mortal danger ahead."

Nathan stared at the cobbling, unsure whether he was making some kind of bad joke.

"As for the others," Jabberwisp mused, seemingly unaware of the pun. "Well, I wager they are just stunned, young master. It is a rare soul who outwits the fae, much less lives to tell of it for more than a moment." he dangled a twig-arm down for the baby to grasp. "Give them time: I imagine the shock will wear off soon."

After a moment the cobbling looked up from the baby and rested his stubby limb on Nathan's cheek. "You did well, young master. You were brave and clever, and you saved a child's life. Be proud."

"But I don't... I was so... It's just..." Nathan shuddered and let out a massive sigh. "Well, didn't you feel me shaking after all that?"

"I thought it was me, young master."

Nathan eyed the cobbling again. "Now you're just teasing me."

"No-no-no!" The cobbling shrilled, but Nathan would have bet anything the little golem would have been wearing the biggest of grins if he'd had a face.

"Enough, artificer. Give me my child and leave."

Nathan turned to the fae woman, his arms around the baby as though he'd never let go. "She has a name, you know."

"What does it matter?" the witch smiled down at the baby. "I shall call her as I please, artificer, for she is my prize."

"So she is," Nathan agreed. "Take her."

Maggie's hand was a sudden weight on his shoulder, whether to comfort or be comforted he didn't know. Her hand tightened as the fae leaned forward and hung her hands over the infant.

"Such a sweet, sweet morsel of life," the witch breathed as the baby began to cry. "And mine to shape. All mi−"

The witch screamed as her hands brushed the infant's cheek, the strange shapes of inhuman bones lit from within by magnesium-white fire. She fell back, cradling the charred remnants of her hand and gabbling in scraps of forgotten languages.

"You said it doesn't matter," Nathan replied over the screams. "What her name is, I mean. Guess you were wrong."

"What is this?" The witch howled.

Nathan stepped forward and the witch cowered, something very like fear dancing in her eyes. "You said I had no power of faith. You're right. I never believed in gods. I refused to imagine someone with so much power could be content to watch and do nothing as the world suffers. But whether I believe it or not here you are, the closest thing I've ever seen to one." Nathan smiled "And you believe."

"Not cold?"

Nathan looked up from his reverie and smiled to see Maggie at his side, her hand resting on his arm. "Don't think I can be cold anymore. Artificer and all that."

"No reason to flaunt it," she said with a small smile.

"Maybe you're right. Hold her for a while?" he passed Maggie the baby and scowled as she fell asleep the moment she was in Maggie's arms. "I still say you're cheating."

"I don't cheat," Maggie smiled. "Unlike you."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" the witch shrieked, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PRIZE?"

Nathan choked back his mounting horror as he saw the witch's form change: warped by the boundless fury of a cheated immortal the fae no longer held any pretense of human shape. Her limbs took on the long, desiccated look of gnarled branches. Her body withered, hunched yet towering over them, her face something from the darkest imaginings of Halloween. Even the light she shed became a different hue, something that cast shadows the way a lantern shed light. Only her voice remained beautiful, impossibly sweet even as she raged at him in a lyrical, flowing language of syllables edged in glass. Shadows and light writhed as the fabric of reality cracked under the weight of her fury but Nathan stood in the midst of it all as though rooted to the earth, staring up into a living tempest and hurling his laughter at it like a spear.

"Your prize? You can't even touch her! You can't lay a hand on her, and all because you believe you can't! You have enough power to shape the world, but the world shapes right back." He tucked the wailing baby in his arms closer to his chest. "What did I do, witch?" Nathan spat. "Simple: I gave her a name that means 'prayer' and left the rest to you. Now take her." The fae woman's eyes widened in shock as Nathan walked towards her, holding the baby out. "Take her!"

She fell and scrabbled away, heedless of the stones and roots tearing her hands as she fled the baby she had so coveted. Nathan snarled "Did you think I wouldn't know? The fair folk may have forgotten us, lost and trapped in a world starved of magic, but we've never forgotten you. Fleeing church bells and iron, fading away at the sound of the lord's prayer, stealing children and demanding gifts. We've never forgotten that you can't even bear the thought of the sacred, let alone its touch. Now take her!"

Nathan watched, almost pitying, as the far woman dwindled like ice beneath a flame. What had been a looming monstrosity of legend shrank to a husking ruin that spoke in a studdering, raspy echo of her former voice.

"I cannot. You have bested me, mortal, and earned my hate."

"I'll live with it," Nathan replied coldly. "Now are you going to help us or not?"

"What?" she hissed.

"The whole point of this was to get a better guide than Japheth. You stole the spot to mess with us. You've lost, now pony up."

"Nooooo...." the witch clawed up from the ground, all but launching herself at his throat in a seethe of cold hatred. "Never, artificer. Never shall I help you, nor any you care for." Her eyes flickered to Maggie and crinkled into the tattered carcass of a smile. "And ever shall they be my prey. Ever shall I turn my hand against yours, waiting beneath the trees for the music of your death."

Nathan sighed and glanced down at Jabberwisp still cowering under his feet. "Figures. J, we're free to go, right? she can't bother us, or send anyone to bother us? Laws and promises and such?"

The cobbling nodded meekly.

"Good. Japheth, do you know the way to Gallowgate from here?"

The woodsman nodded, his face pale but set like stone. "We can reach the town in a fortnight, as the wood wills."

"Then, dread lady," Nathan was surprised to hear no mockery in his voice as he bowed, turned one last time to the fae woman "I beg leave to begin our journey."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

He waited for a reply, head down, and when he finally looked up she was inches away, whispering so only he could hear. "You are damned, artificer. Know this. I am eternal, and I see the trails of the future laid before me in the shifting of leaves, in the dance of water down the streams. I need not raise a hand to you even if I could, for it is your doom to suffer." She smiled toothily, and for a moment her cold beauty returned. "You will pass from this world as an empty shell: not as an artificer, not as a man. It has already begun."

It has already begun. The same words... It doesn't matter. Nathan smiled, knowing as he did he couldn't have shocked her more. "Of course. All mortals die alone. All mortals suffer. It's our nature. You've told me nothing." He leaned forward. "But you can't die, can you? Ever. I pity you for it."

The witch's eyes narrowed and she vanished into the gloom. Only her voice remained, whether lingering in air or in his mind, he didn't know.

"It has already begun."

"So what did you name her?"

"Orison," Nathan replied. "It's an old favorite."

Maggie frowned. "Wait, you said you aren't religious. Why would that be a favorite of yours?"

"Didn't say it was my favorite," Nathan replied. "Jack always wanted to name a daughter that. I never liked the name, personally."

"Well, it seems to fit her," Maggie smiled. "Here, take her and go sit by the fire. I'll cook us something."

"Roast jerky? Sounds fantastic," Nathan quipped. "Or are you going to disappear and nick something?"

"Nick something," Maggie grinned. "You beat a fae. Tonight we celebrate, for tomorrow we may die." At that, she vanished without a sound.

"She is a cheat," Nathan grumbled fondly to Orison and made his way to the fire, sitting where Maggie had been. "A good cheat, but a cheat all the same."

Japheth looked up from the fire. "Where did she go?"

"I dunno," Nathan shrugged. "She goes where she likes.”

The woodsman grunted and raised a rough-hewn cup, pouring himself something that filled the air with the smell of cinnamon. "I have walked these trails for decades, seen countless wonders, and yet never seen the like of today." He grinned at Nathan and raised the cup again in a toast. "Hail, wizard."

Nathan sighed. "Please don't call me that."

"Why not? Whatever name you wear you should take pride in it."

"I was in one of their towers. The wizards starved children, abused... everything. There's no pride in that."

Japheth shook his head. "They have been gone for centuries. You are not and cannot be one of them. It is you who wears the name now, not them, and it will change to fit you."

The woodsman leaned forward and smiled. "Boy, you travel hand in hand with death, and I'm not so blind to see she doesn't love you. You matched wits with a fae and won, cast defiance into the witch's teeth and walked away unscathed. Any name you take will be respected." He took another swig of his drink, then poured another dollop and offered the cup to Nathan.

"Assuming you live, of course."

Nathan took the cup and sipped at the contents; a brutally strong mead, cloying and thick with cinnamon and honey. "I live, I leave."

“What?”

“That’s where we’re going. To send me back to the old world. Back home.”

"As you like," Japheth smiled. "I have found that fate, like the forest, has a way of turning you about. You may go home, you may not, and maybe you are home already."

Nathan glanced around. "Well, I wouldn't build a summer home here, but the trees are quite lovely." He waited a moment for Japheth to laugh and then sighed as the woodsman raised an eyebrow and swigged from his canteen without comment. No one appreciates the classics here… Well, no one has seen the classics here.

As if on cue, Maggie appeared with an armful of vegetables, a ham, and a pot. "Soup!" she said brightly and set her load down. "Say what you will about Gran, she knows her ham."

"Truly you are a treasure, girl." Japheth said with a grin as the last of the pot's content's vanished. "I think I may never have eaten this well."

"I'm surprised we didn't get any visitors, given the smell." Nathan was smiling lazily despite his gloomy talk: his first hot meal in ages had worked tension out of joints he'd forgotten he had.

"Fire is a symbol just as potent as prayer, young master." Jabberwisp cheeped. "Few denizens of the Weymaerii would approach, barring the fae, and we are yet in the territory of the one you bested. And then there is the reitha," The cobbling bowed to Japheth.

"I don't understand this at all," Nathan groused. "Symbols and faith. Oi."

"You mean you didn't know what you were doing?" Japheth asked, dumbfounded.

"He never knows what he's doing," Maggie snipped. "He runs on cheap luck."

"Cheap, my ass," Nathan replied. "I had at least three ideas how to beat her."

"And no idea if any of them would work, right?"

Nathan scowled but said nothing, and Maggie smirked. "Thought so. Jabberwisp, why don't you explain to the mighty artificer why the fae couldn't touch Orison?"

"If you wish it, young master," the cobbling glared at Maggie. Even without eyes, or even a face to set the eyes in, the look was unmistakable. Nathan nodded, smiling at the little golem's prickly nature.

"I do. Just pretend I'm an idiot, J, and explain it as best you can."

"Hardly an idiot, young master. Let me see... you have seen prisms, young master? Perhaps a diamond? Surely a rainbow."

"Sure."

"Then you have seen the light split into colors. A whole rendered into pieces."

Nathan nodded.

"Now, the world beyond the veil of physicality is a strange and mutable one, shaping and shaped at once, mortal and immortal alike. All things that touch on that plane are marked by the power they wield. Do you follow, young master?"

"So far."

"Faith, prayer, belief... these are all mortal things, young master. Mortal magics, if you will, though many are loath to call them that. These are part of a great whole and yet distinct as well, different shades of the same light. There are elements of the magical plane that, though inherently part of the same great concept, do not mesh well. Some even react violently to one another."

"So... the fae can't bear faith because they're on the other end of the rainbow?"

There was something of a wince in the cobbling's voice. "In a manner of speaking. Thought and intent have greater meaning here than in your world, young master."

"Iron," Nathan mused. "Iron hurts them because... because it's a symbol of civilization, and the fae are of the wild. They can't coexist because... they are contradictions?"

"Well done, young master,"

"The cross is a symbol of good. If it can hurt the fae, does that make her evil?"

"Not so much," Japheth cut in. "She is among the most vicious of them, but even she is not so much evil as..." he shrugged. "Following her nature. Wolves prey on the weak and sickly. They are not evil for it, they simply do as their nature compels. A holy mark harms the fae on many levels, and even they likely do not know all the reasons why."

"Did you ever ask?" Maggie asked.

The woodsman grinned. "I am still alive: what do you think?"

"I tell you what I think," Nathan yawned. "I think it's high time we slept. And kept watch."

Japheth nodded, then glanced about and drew his reitha. "Sleep, children. You have all earned it."

"When it's your turn, don't stare into the fire." Maggie said as she unrolled her bedding with a deft flick of her hands. "That's what got you in trouble last time."

Nathan stuck his tongue out but said nothing.

"And don't stick your tongue out: you look silly."

"Cheat."

Maggie smiled. "I just know you."

Nathan pulled a stick from under his bedroll and tossed it into the fire. "Not even a month, and you know me?"

She turned over, but he could still see her smile. "Yep."

Nathan was taking his turn at the watch when he first heard the music. It came down from the trees faint and low, chords lilting softly in a song that was half lullaby, half lament. He considered waking Japheth and asking him what the sound was but the woodsman had only just fallen asleep. It seemed inconsiderate.

Inconsiderate, yeah... God, that's beautiful. Wish I could see who was playing...

"Young-master-where-are-you-going?"

The cobbling came skittering out of the dark and began dragging at his heels. Nathan blinked and realized he was on his feet, almost out of the circle of firelight before Jabberwisp had caught him.

Jesus...

"Thanks, J." He sat back down with a deliberate, painful thump. None of that. There shall be NONE of that. Casting about, his eyes lighted on the guitar case before guiltily shifting back to his companions. "Smack me if I start to leave again, right?"

"Perhaps not that, young master. Dangerous beasts, the harpers. Shall I go deal with them?"

"Deal with them?" Nathan had a sudden mental image of the little golem posing triumphantly over a dead spider twice the cobbling's size and hid a smile. "No, no. Wouldn't you get lost?"

"I could, young master, but we must do something."

Nathan glanced at the guitar again, shrugged, and leaned over to pull it out of its case.

"Hell, why not."

"Why not what, young master?"

He grinned. "Spidey and me gonna duel us some banjos."

The familiar tune danced from his fingers in a quiet murmur, almost but not quite drowning out the haunting music from the trees. Nathan let himself be absorbed into the song, his focus split between playing and keeping watch.

The eyes came a few minutes later.

At first, he thought they were stars peeking through the canopy. Then they moved, a smooth glide that slowly brought them to the edge of the firelight. The fire glittered on a fist-sized constellation of unblinking motes and Nathan dropped the guitar, feeling his hand stray to the hilt of his sword.

Then the eyes shifted slightly and the opening strains of Dueling Banjos tinkled from the shadows, playing on something that sounded eerily like a harp.

Nathan stared a moment, then played the answering chord. There was a pause and then... something happened, but Nathan wasn't sure what. The spider had plucked a series of notes that weren't quite music. There was meaning in it, as though subtitles had flashed in his mind.

Somewhere between his ears and his brain, Nathan could have sworn that the sound became Hello. What are you?

Jabberwisp had been quiet until this point, asleep for all Nathan knew, but as the spider paused the cobbling squeaked to life. "What-the-devil?!"

The eyes vanished. Nathan, startled, turned to the cobbling. "J, what was that?!"

"Apparently, young master, a harper accepted your duel."

"It was a joke! I didn't think something would actually happen!" Nathan hissed, then shot a panicked glance into the trees as something rustled overhead. "Did I just break some other goofy fairy rule?!"

Jabberwisp paused a moment as though wondering whether his charge was entirely sane. "Young master, are you well?"

Nathan took a deep breath. "uh... I think it just talked."

"I doubt it, young master. If they could talk, someone would know it by now. In fact, the little I know was summed up at the tavern by our guide, and I know more than most."

He frowned. "So you've no idea how smart they are?"

The cobbling laughed, perhaps a little haughtily. "Young master, it is an overlarge insect, not a thinking being. Birds can copy sounds but they are no different than other birds. Surely−"

"So you don't know."

"I said no such thing," the little golem sulked. "And I believe it is Miss Maggie's turn at watch. I suggest you sleep, young master."

Nathan grinned sleepily. My God, he's touchy! "It's not an insect, did you know that?"

Apparently that wasn't worth a response because the cobbling simply sighed and curled in on himself. Nathan snickered and shook Maggie's shoulder, smiling as she groaned. "Good morning, beautiful. How was your night?"

She narrowed her eyes in his direction and ran a hand through her sleep-rumpled hair.

"Tell me you have coffee to go with that cheesy line."

"No, but it's about four in the morning, I think, and my turn to sleep." Nathan bundled himself into his bedroll and took a sip of Jabberwisp's potion. "Watch out for giant spiders playing banjos."

He passed out so fast he didn't even hear her incredulous "What?"