Get Back from the Faerie Godmother!
3: The Tam Lin Clause
"He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow," she related.
There was a river beside the small wood cottage that, surprisingly, contained not a single electrical implement about the place. By this cottage within the river was a ford, or a shallow area where it was possible to walk across. Two huge trees grew by this ford, their branches huge and sturdy enough to hang washing out to dry and the leaves themselves green with promise.
It was here that his new godmother was washing, and telling stories as she went through the back-breaking work with his assistance. Her green dress stood out, with his own green outfit of shirt, shorts and shoes by the side.
"So is that story about the monkey's paw true, Godmother?" Ginji asked.
"Perhaps," she shrugged. "There are many ways to grant wishes, and to have wishes granted. One of the most foolproof is usually to be prudent, but... well, sometimes fate does rule people's lives. Fate itself will not allow such to be happy. Therefore these people have to find and snatch their own happiness for themselves."
Ginji looked at her sadly, the cool water trickling over his bared feet. "That sounds horrible."
She sighed, standing up with the wrung-out washing in a basin. "Help me hang this up, and I'll get the tea, okay?"
"Godmother, you talk with an... ac- cent," Ginji messed up.
"Accent," she absently corrected. "A distinctive way of pronouncing a word. Such as the different between the 'san' and 'han' that mean the same, but one is more common in the Kansai area and the other across Japan itself."
"Ah," Ginji nodded in awe. "You know so much, Godmother. Just like Ban-chan."
"Midou Ban has yet to live long enough to match one of the Sidhe," the woman promised darkly as the sheets spread across one branch. "Well, Gin-chan, shall we have tea?" Her dark green eyes shined with a kindness that made her beautiful, even past her average features.
An hour later, Ginji found himself at an unusually low table his self-appointed godmother had set his tea and a plate of cookies on. "Scottish breakfast," she announced pleasantly. "The very best kind of tea. Much better than that British."
Ginji frowned, but seeing as there was a tea-bag, unless tea-bags were even more common amongst fairies, he accepted. "Thank you, Godmother."
"Oh, you're such a polite dear," she praised with a smile. Her features sagged a little with melancholy. "You're just the sort I would have loved to have as a son," she mentioned.
Seeing the shadow darken her eyes, Ginji could feel a twist of sympathy toward her. There was some tragedy in her past that she held close to her heart, and having lived with Midou Ban who shared a similar history, the electrokinectic boy knew not to pry or pity. Instead, he smiled as brightly as he could at the sad compliment. "Thank you, Godmother."
His voice seemed to break her out of whatever reverie she'd been momentarily lost in. "Oh, dear, I thought I noticed a certain cloud over your head. Here, have a black and white cookie," she urged, pushing the plate toward him.
She looked so convinced that a cookie could successfully cheer him up, that the blond retriever chibi-fied and found himself believing her as well, and bit into the sweet treat.
In all his years, Ginji had never had the experience of someone trying to soothe his troubles by offering him baked goods. Even Paul-san was more likely to offer coffee instead. As the delicious taste spread on his tongue, Ginji could feel his heart lighten. The weather felt warm, the company pleasant. He wanted nothing more, suddenly, than to pass the entire day with her.
"This is really good," he complimented around his mouthful. "I wish Ban-chan could eat this."
"Ah," she murmured. "Were your adventures with Ban-chan fun? How did the two of you meet?"
"Yeah!" Ginji brightened. "Well, you see, there's this place in the Infinite Fortress..."
As Ginji continued to babble, she gave a wan smile. The witch-ling would never use magic, that she hoped. That she wished. That the witch-ling would have no claim on her godson.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Call upon the power of Asclepius the Serpent Bearer. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus. That thin wall between worlds where Ginji waited, tempted by food that would render any retrieval mission moot...
"Ready?" Maria asked.
Ban's temple throbbed. "I mean, Faerie is going to be more packed with predators than the Infinite Fortress, and the animals there are unlikely to be unfriendly to humans. Yes, just peachy."
"Well, that sharp tongue is in place," Maria stated. "Let's go, then."
They were in Maria's dusty, cluttered fortune-telling shop for a moment. And then, they stood on some kind of spongy grass, on a low, rolling hill surrounded by other low, rolling hills in the next moment. The mist lay over the land like a crippled storm cloud, sluggish and thick in some places, thinner in others. The landscape was dotted with the occasional tree, boles thick and twisted, branches scrawny and long. A tattered-looking raven crouched on a nearby branch, its bead-black eyes gleaming.
Ban held his head in his hands. "So this is what walking between worlds feels like. Cheery."
"Very Baskerville," Maria agreed.
"Now what?"
At his words, the raven let out a croaking caw. It shook itself, bits of mouldy feathers drifting down, and then beat its wings a few times and settled on another branch, almost out of sight.
"Make a joke about 'nevermore' and I will hex you," Maria warned. "Understand?"
"Never more," Ban smirked.
Maria sighed, then they both started off after the raven. It led them through the cloudy landscape, flitting silently from tree to tree. They trudged behind it until more trees began to rise in the mist ahead of us, thickening. The ground grew softer, the air more wet, cloying.
The raven let out another caw, then vanished into the trees and out of sight.
Ban squinted. "Did you see a light there?"
"Yes," Maria affirmed. "This may be the place."
"Let's go," Ban started forward, but was stopped by a firm hand from Maria.
"Ban," Maria warned. She nodded toward a thick patch of shadows where two trees had fallen against one another. Ban had just begun to pick out a shape when it moved and came forward, close enough that it could be made out clearly.
The unicorn looked like a Budweiser horse, one of the huge draft beasts used for heavy labour. It had to have been eighteen hands high, maybe more by the Master of the Evil Eye's estimate. It had a broad chest, four heavy hooves, forward-pricked ears, and a long equine face. That was where its resemblance to a Clydesdale ended.
It did not have a coat; just a smooth and slick-looking carapace, all chitinous scales and plates, mixing dark green and midnight black. Its hooves were cloven and stained with old blood, or what passed for blood in this sickeningly dark world to Ban. One spiralling horn rose from its forehead, at least three feet long and wickedly pointed. The spirals were serrated on the edges, some of them covered with rust-brown stains. A pair of curling horns, like those of a bighorn sheep, curved around the sides of its head from the base of the big horn. It did not have any eyes-just smooth, leathery chitin where they should have been. It tossed its head, and a mane of rotted cobwebs danced around its neck and forelegs, long and tattered as a burial shroud.
A large moth fluttered through the mist near the unicorn. The beast whirled, impossibly nimble, and lunged. Its spiral skewered the moth, and with a savage shake of its head, the unicorn threw the moth to the earth and pulverized the ground it landed on with sledgehammer blows of the blades of its hooves. It snorted after that, and then turned to pace silently back into the mist-covered trees.
Ban swallowed, looking to a wide-eyed Maria. "Unicorns. Real dangerous. You go first."
"You're horrible, Ban-chan," Maria sighed. "How do we get past it?"
"Snakebite?"
"Tempting. But you'd most probably be skewered first."
"They don't rely on the normal senses, if I recall," Ban muttered. "They sense... thoughts."
"In that case it shouldn't notice you," Maria pointed out.
"Hah," Bananswered in a monotone. "Ha-ha, ho-ho, oh my ribs. I have a better plan. I go through while you distract it."
"Oh, my, you're thinking," Maria murmured.
"I can plan, you know," Ban growled.
"No," Maria pointed to the approaching unicorn. "You're thinking."
Ban's eyes widened in comprehension behind his sunglasses. "...Shit."
The beast snorted and pawed at the earth and reared up on its hind legs, tossing its mane. Then it started forward at a charge. Its ears flattened back to its skull, and its feet shifted restlessly before it finally rose up on its hind hooves, preparing to lunge, with the deadly horn centred to stab. Ban ran for the nearest tree. The unicorn was faster, but Ban put the trunk between them. It did not slow down; its horn slammed into the trunk of the dead tree and came through it as though it had not been there.
Ban flinched away, but not fast enough to avoid catching several flying splinters in the chest and belly, and not fast enough to avoid a nasty cut on the left arm where one of those serrated edges of the horn ripped through his shirt.
The pain of the injuries registered, but only as background data. He stepped around the bole of the tree, lunging with the Snakebite at the delicate bones of the unicorn's rear ankle.
"Snakebite!"
Evidently on unicorns, the bones on the rear ankle are apparently just a bit tender. The beast let out a furious scream and twisted its body, tearing through the tree, shredding it as it whipped its horn free and whirled to orient on the bearer of the Serpent-holder. It lunged, the horn spearing toward him.
Ban swept a random branch on the ground up, a simple parry quatre, and shoved the tip out past his body while darting a pair of steps to his right to avoid the beast's oncoming weight. He kept going, ducking a beat before the unicorn planted its forequarters, lifted its hind, and twisted, lashing out toward the head with both rear hooves. He rolled, came up running, and ducked behind the next tree. Th unicorn turned and began stalking toward him, circling the tree, foam pattering from its open mouth.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hate unicorns," Ban muttered as the beast cried out, the impact of the two hundred kilogram per square centimetre grip finally taking its toll as he danced out back to Maria.
"Shall we?" Maria murmured as she pointed to the lights. There it was, the familiar buzz of Ginji's power, at peace. "Gin-chan is that way."
Ban's heart ached, for some inexplicable reason. "Let's go, Maria. We have to rescue Ginji."
Please review!