The path ended at the foot of one of the trees, an old grandfather pine taller and wider than any two of its neighbors. Japheth held up the lantern and motioned them forward. He pointed at the base of the tree. "Look but do not speak, especially when we approach. This is a holy place," he whispered. "A place for silence or song and little else, so keep quiet."

Set into the vast roots and ringed by patches of downy moss was a small pool of water. The air was still beneath the canopy and yet the pool rippled and danced with a life of its own. The waters caught up the tiny flame of Japheth's lantern and cast it back even more brightly, as though it was the water and not the fire that lit the darkness.

Japheth indicated that they should sit and stepped forward, taking a flute and small, wooden cup from his pack. He filled the cup, careful not to let the water touch his skin, and set it near the water's edge. Then he put the flute to his lips and began to play.

The music he drew from the instrument was neither sad nor happy, but somehow both. Wild and yet restrained, sweet but bitter, the sounds he played clashed and wove together in a beautiful dance of contradiction. If life was rendered into music the woodsman's song would have matched it, note for note.

How long he played Nathan didn't know, too engrossed by the woodsman's music to mark time. He found his eyes sliding shut, the better to focus on the impossible beauty of the sound. Soon, though, Maggie's hand tightened around his. He turned to her just in time to see the creatures of the forest arrive.

Wind-fairies settled among the lower branches, so still they might have grown there like tiny, shining flowers. Animals of all descriptions, some recognizable, others like nothing Nathan had ever seen, flocked to the woodsman's side and laid down. More than one of the elves from the hunting party appeared in the branches overhead, their mouths hanging open in silent awe.

If Japheth noticed his audience he gave no sign, not even when a dryad, stunningly lovely and wearing woven shawls of leaves, stepped around the base of the tree and crouched at the woodsman's side. She smiled and gently laid a hand on Japheth's hair. The woman’s eyes flicked over Nathan's and they locked gazes for a moment, her expression impossible to read. Something about her, the cast of her eyes, the form of her inhuman hands, the shape of her deer-like ears, all these tugged at the back of his mind and he frowned thoughtfully. Her eyes... they're... they're his. He smiled as the pieces came together. Maggie...

Don't interrupt, I'm listening.

Look. He squeezed her fingers and felt a tingle between his eyes. She's his mother.

Duh, now be quiet.

The dryad turned away and reached for the cup, but before she could take it several things happened. Maggie let out a sudden cry of pain and clutched the baby to herself with one arm, her free hand scrabbling desperately in the depths of her robes. Light crested around the edges of the tree, golden and bright as the morning sun. Japheth's audience vanished before the light could reach them, the dryad flashing a panicked glance at her son before she too disappeared. The lantern went out in a shower of sparks as woodsman stuttered to a halt and turned to face the light.

"Japheth, what's−"

"If you value your sanity, keep quiet!" Maggie hissed in his ear, and Nathan glanced at her just in time to watch her take a choking swig from her flask. He turned back to the light in mounting horror as the significance of that slowly registered.

If the adopted daughter of Suicide was this scared, then whatever this was could only be all sorts of bad.

Japheth, however, looked almost aloof as the light faded to a vague, buttery luminescence. He put away the flute and sank to his knees in a posture of total servility. Nathan hastily copied him and helped Maggie do the same. When he looked again, a fae stood haloed in the remaining light.

It was the only thing she could be, Nathan thought to himself. She was too perfect to be anything else.

She was tall, beautiful as the light she shed, the kind of woman seen only in dreams. There was something inhuman about her, her face too flawless, her form too graceful and sweetly curved to be genuine. This was something that had seen true human beauty and decided there was room for improvement. Even so, there was still something of her true nature that irresistibly bled through. The harsh, angular cast of her face and the way she moved recalled the sinister joy of cats playing with their food.

Japheth rose to his feet and bowed, offering the cup. She approached and took it, absently draining it as she stared at him. She tossed the empty cup to the ground and cast her eyes over Nathan and Maggie, lingering for a long moment on the tiny baby in Maggie's arms. The fae smiled coldly at the infant and then turned back to the woodsman, letting her eyes play over his body for a few moments before she spoke. Her voice reminded Nathan of the coronet of thorned vines woven through her hair; shaped to be lovely but unable to escape its nature as a barbed, vicious thing.

"Lovely Japheth, come to my forest again."

The woodsman bowed again and answered slowly, clearly choosing his words with extreme caution. "I did not expect a lady of the fae to answer my call."

Her smile widened. "You are surprised I have come? But of course you are. You have avoided me these many years. Are you afraid, lovely Japheth? I am hurt. I am hurt that you do not wish to see me, lovely Japheth. Yes, I am hurt. After all, I owe you much since our last meeting."

Nathan thought he saw a sliver of tension leave the woodsman's shoulders.

"I am not displeased, great lady, but unprepared. Scarce have my encounters been with the fair folk. Many of your race have little love for mine, justly so. For my sake and the sake of those in my care I carry salt and holy marks, but by my oath I do not seek to offer injury to the fae. I am ill-suited to entertain one such as you. Having never been in practice, I am out of it."

"Well spoken," she laughed, the sound sending sparks of pain down Nathan's spine. Leaning close, the fae woman stared down at Japheth, her chestnut hair running across his cheek. He said nothing, but the quiver of his limbs admitted all that his voice would not.

"But you are displeased that I am here." Her lips brushed his ear as she mock-whispered, her eyes trailing over Nathan again, and Japheth shook. "You are frightened, and it is sweet." She straightened, watching the woodsman fight to regain his composure. "Tell me," she purred. "Who are your guests?"

Japheth turned and gestured for them to get off their knees, panicked eyes wide in a clear statement that their lives depended on their silence. Nathan stood and helped Maggie to her feet while trying to look as small as possible.

"The girl is called Maggie, one of the children of Death," Japheth said.

Maggie bowed, her eyes downcast and wide with fright as Nathan had never seen them.

The fae woman gave a hissing laugh. "Yes, I smell it on her. Despair's prodigy. So rarely does your father enter our woods, child." Contempt slipped into her words as she spoke, so heavy it made Nathan's knees quiver under the weight. "After all, to willingly pass on to the next world is so... human."

Maggie bowed again but kept silent. The fae watched her for a moment more and then smiled. "Good. She knows something of courtesy." The air blurred around her and then she was inches from Maggie, her hand a hair's breadth from touching the baby. "And what is this sweet thing, lovely Japheth?"

The woodsman hesitated for a moment. "I do not know the child’s name, lady. It is one of the green folk and in the care of my guests."

She sighed and pulled her hand away, leaving Maggie trembling as the witch turned to face Nathan. "And this? I smell the magic in his veins. I smell the token of a dead man's faith at his wrist. I smell the blood of the fireborn."

"He is Nathan, lady, an artificer blessed by a salamander."

"A stone braider?" The fae woman's cold smile widened, showing her teeth. "A tamer of metal, come again to the world. Long has your kind been gone, wizard." Perhaps it was his imagination but her teeth seemed to be getting longer, her smile a little wider than humanly possible. "You have not been missed."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Nathan took his cue from Maggie and bowed again, shaking as the fae woman was suddenly at his ear, her hand fever-warm on his cheek. "Artificer or wizard," she hissed. "Whatever name you choose matters not; you are not welcome in my forest."

"If it please you, Lady, he only wishes to pass through your lands."

She didn't move as Japheth spoke. "Does he? I am not sure I believe this. A man's hunger for power respects no bounds, and a wizard is but a man with greater means." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Truth, wizard. What do you truly want?"

Nathan would never forget how quiet, how empty of fear, of any emotion at all his voice was as he answered. "I want to leave your forest."

She pulled away, her eyed narrowed. "You did not answer my question."

Nathan smiled, both politely and not at all. "You asked what I wanted, lady. What I want is to leave your forest, near a town called Gallowgate if possible."

The fae woman's lips twitched into a snarl. From the corner of his eye Nathan could see Maggie's face paling in stupefied horror. "I want to know, mortal beast, what you truly want. Speak to me so boldly again and I shall take you at your word, and in a manner not to your liking."

"Apologies, lady." Nathan spread his hands sheepishly. "There are none of the fae in my world, so I am unused to their ways. In my world, even the lowest of us may lock eyes with gods and kings and meet them as equals, but truly there are none like you there."

The fae woman stared, and a little voice that had been quietly hyperventilating in the back of Nathan's mind began screaming in terror until she burst into laughter.

"Truly, I do not know whether you flatter or insult, lie or speak truth. Artificer," she nodded as she used the title. "I salute you and your silver tongue. Perhaps I will not see it made my meal after all."

Nathan bowed and tried not to think about her last sentence as she stalked behind him. "And this?"

Nathan turned to see her pointing at the lumpy pocket Jabberwisp was hiding in. Japheth shook his head. "I do not know what you ask, lady. You must ask the artificer."

She cocked her head in silent question and Nathan winced. "Introduce yourself, J."

The zipper peeled open and Jabberwisp rolled slowly out, hopping to the forest floor and sketching an elegant bow. The fae woman clapped her hands and skipped in joy. "What delightful toy is this? I hear a mind trapped in that gem, a soul clamoring to get out."

"Indeed, dread lady," Jabberwisp squeaked as he bowed yet lower. "I am Jabberwisp the Cobbling, servant to young master Nathan. It is the greatest of honors to be in your presence."

"Lovely," sighed the fae woman. "Such lovely manners from this little poppet. You would do well to learn from your servant, artificer."

Nathan bowed again. He kept quiet and watched as she went back to facing the woodsman.

"Sweet Japheth, how cleverly you twist our laws to your use. It took me many seasons to find this place. Your parents taught you well. You would bargain with those in my forest by coming to this secret pool, offering water and sweet music to place them in your debt. What do you wish? To show these with you the wonders of our wood? To guide them through, as the artificer says? No matter. I am here. I come in my servant's stead, and what you would offer them is mine to take. What do you offer me?"

The fae reacted as though she had been slapped as Japheth stood and looked her square in the eye. The woodsman spoke quietly, the strength in his words born not from fury or fear but pure, contrary stubbornness. "What would you have of me to which you may claim right, lady? The bargain already between us demands you take my firstborn should I bring them into the wood. I have no children. You cannot have that which does not exist."

"My life was purchased from you by my father and you may not claim it, nor work to end it, nor set any against it in your stead. This you swore to him, and no fae may break an oath."

The fae's eyes blazed with equal parts fury and caution as he drew the reitha at his side. The sigils glittered with a pale light in the fae's presence, as though the etchings had been half-filled with sparks.

"This blade was my grandfather's, passed down to my father and from him to me. By your law, a gift given by one of your race may not be taken by another." He hefted the knife and smiled, unconsciously mimicking her barbed grin. "You cannot take me, my family, or my weapon. What then would you have of me? "

Nathan silently cheered him on but screeched to an inner halt as she smiled her unnaturally toothy smile again. "You are in my debt, woodsman, and I demand payment of promise."

Japheth nodded. "I will hear your request."

She was quiet for a few moments, her eyes flickering as they marked the paths of things only she could see. Nathan had the unpleasant feeling that she was somehow charting the future's course in order to make the best use of this bargain.

A use that would get the woodsman killed or worse, he was certain.

"I would have you swear, by root and branch, never to lead a mortal into this forest under your protection."

Japheth frowned. "But what of these, lady?"

Her eyes glittered. "I told you what I want of you, lovely Japheth. They must make their own bargains."

The woodsman's fingers tightened around this knife, but otherwise he didn't show any reaction. "You expect that I simply watch as you take these people?"

"You protest?"

The woodsman tensed, his knuckles turning white, but the fae only chuckled. "Fear not, there is no need for that, lovely Japheth. I mean you no harm." Her eyes flicked over Nathan, then back to the woodsman. "Very well, a compromise."

"One soul." Japheth replied, glancing apologetically at those assembled. Nathan grimaced. The woodsman had warned them. Nathan's mind raced, trying to find a way to weasel out of this and hoping Japheth would pick Maggie.

The fae witch grinned. "One mortal soul under your protection. Entitled to all courtesies, just as you are, yet obligated only to you."

"At a time, or ever?"

"How you natter, lovely Japheth! Like a squirrel after his trove. At a time, ever, I care not. So long as they remain with you they are safe. I may not harm them, nor compel others to do so, nor inform others who would do you harm of your presence. Of me and mine they shall know nothing." She pouted, like a cat kept from her mouse. "I tire of this bargain, sweet Japheth, and wish to move on. Make an end of it, woodsman."

Japheth was silent for a time and then shrugged. "It is the nature of a well-made compromise, my lady, that both sides should be dissatisfied. We have a bargain. One mortal."

"Excellent." The fae woman smiled, and turned to Maggie. "Now, child−"

"If-you-will-forgive-me-dread-lady..."

She turned, smiling coldly at Jabberwisp. "I do not treat well with those who interrupt me, poppet. Your turn will come, fear not."

Jabberwisp bowed so deeply he was all but lying face down in the dirt. "But milady, I have council."

"Indeed?" The fae witch raised one perfect eyebrow and smiled. "Rise, then, and give it."

Jabberwisp clambered to his feet and sketched another graceful bow. "A child of death is no longer mortal, their spirit forever meshed with that of their teacher. As such, even if you dared work against her father," the cobbling put the faintest emphasis on the word. "The girl can yet claim the woodsman's protection."

She stared a moment at the cobbling and then cast a filthy glare at Japheth before turning back to Maggie. "Very well, yet I would have a gift from this guest in my realm." She cupped Maggie's shaking chin in her hand and raised her face to hers. "What will you give me, sweet child?"

"Forgive me, dread lady, I am but a… a humble assassin with little to my name."

"Assassin," mused the fae witch. "This word is strange to me. Poppet, I wish your council. What is this word?"

"You may consider her, dread lady, a peerless hunter of mortals, able to kill any of your choosing," Jabberwisp inclined his shapeless head. "She kills as her father does, with despair."

"Lovely," the forest witch breathed. "The power to grant a truly human death. How delicious." She smiled at Maggie. "If you consent to end a life of my choosing, dear child, I will consider that a fine gift indeed."

Jabberwisp prostrated himself at the forest witch's feet. "Be kind, dread lady, and grant that she need not take a life she loves. This would be far too cruel a thing and may incur her father's wrath upon you."

The fae woman nodded. "This is a kindness I will gladly grant, little poppet. Your council is wise indeed."

"Thank you, dread lady."

"Of course I will not be so cruel, sweet child." The fae witch smiled again. "I shall not ask you to kill any you love. End one mortal for me when I call, only one, and all shall be well between us."

Maggie bowed. "G-gladly, lady."

A short stick nearly as thick as Nathan’s thumb rose from the forest floor and settled Maggie's hand, borne by slender shoots of grass. "When this bone of the forest breaks, little hunter, return to me. Then I shall give you your prey." She turned, dismissing Maggie, and turned to Jabberwisp with greed in her eyes. "Now you, little poppet−"

"Alas, dread lady, I am not mortal, having been crafted to be as an endless pool to those who would sup of my knowledge. I am but a tool, not to be treated with. It is young master Nathan I serve. Your laws dictate you must bargain with him if you wish my service to be yours, and indeed pay a great price for such a gem as I−"

"Filthy thing!" The rage that suddenly blazed across the witch's face was beyond insane, something only an immortal could feel without being broken under the weight of it. She launched a kick into Jabberwisp that sent the little cobbling streaking into the air, the jewel at his core glittering feebly from the shadows as he fell to the earth in a crumpled heap. "How dare you deny yourself to me!" She raised her hand as though to strike at him, eldritch fire blazing in her palm, but froze the moment before she threw it. She struggled a moment and then let out a gasp of pain, clasping her hand to her breast as though burned.

It's the laws. Nathan realized. She's bound by her own laws. He watched as Jabberwisp pulled his tattered form erect, his form slowly winding back into shape as he crawled back to cower beneath Nathan's feet.

"You." The witch turned to Nathan, her eyes smoldering with barely checked wrath. "You will give him to me and accept your life in exchange."

“I promised myself I would never treat Jabberwisp and his kind as slaves, my lady.” Nathan said. “You wouldn’t have me break a promise, would you?”

"Yet, impudent wretch, were I to lay claim to you," she hissed, reaching for him. "I would claim him in turn."

Japheth stammered out the words in a rush "The artificer is under my−"

"NO!" Maggie screamed, and Nathan blanched in horror as he realized, too late, what the fae had been planning.

"Protection," the woodsman finished, and the forest witch smiled, the burning rage gone so quickly it could only have been an act. "Lovely Japheth. So brave of you to try to outwit me. Even with the help of that precious poppet, you have no luck. I could not lay claim to the boy anyway: his blood already sings with an immortal bond. Tell me," she husked, relishing every word as she pointed at the baby.

"Whose child is this?"