a/n: Haiiiii. Insert more excuses here for my delayed update. Hopefully, this was worth the wait, though! :) I still have tons of homework for PhD stuff, but I am hoping that other things will settle down soon so I will be able to update here more frequently. Oh, and btw, my birthday is on the 4th - I am low-key depressed about getting yet another year older and spiraling further into the abyss of adulthood (sorry, that got super dark). Please leave reviews bc they make me happy and I hope you enjoy this chapter! (Side-bar: The POV isn't really character-specific here - say hello to the omniscient/omnipotent/omnipresent unnamed narrator!)
**I own nothing except the idea for how things play out – characters, etc., are all property of their rightful creators (Lev Grossman, SyFy, etc.)**
The moment Penny laid hands on him in the New York apartment, the wound in his abdomen spontaneously opened and the bloodletting began. Not to mention the searing pain that ripped through him, starting from his center of gravity and radiating out through his whole body. When they landed in Fillory, he had immediately dropped to the ground, clutching his side, and he could scarcely even stand on his own since then.
Eliot forced himself to focus on the feeling of Quentin's arms wrapped around him. He kept his own hands putting pressure on his stomach, with as much force as he could muster despite feeling like he might pass out at any moment.
The air in Fillory was full of magic. Which normally would be great. But when suffering from a magical wound that reacted negatively, and violently, to other magic, being in Fillory fucking sucked.
The clattering of the buckboard and the clacking of the horse's hooves on the dirt road and, once they reached the village, the cobblestone path, was enough to make Eliot feel like his head was going to explode. He could feel the blood thundering in his ears and his head ached in a way it never had before. And this was coming from someone who had extensive experience with hangovers and withdrawal symptoms. The way he felt now made those days look like a walk in the park.
"Is this it?" Margo called from her seat in the wagon, glancing around.
Josh hesitated a moment too long.
"Hoberman," Margo growled from a place low in her throat.
"Yes!" Josh squeaked, turning around to look at his girlfriend. "Yes, definitely, this is it. This is the place, yeah, for sure." He nodded his head fervently, clearly overcompensating for his earlier doubt.
"Mm-hmm," Margo hummed, unconvinced.
Penny jumped down to the ground, making the wagon wobble. "Fuck you," Eliot groaned, jarred by the movement. "Flip him off for me, Q," he mumbled.
Quentin let out a nervous chuckle and squeezed El's shoulder. "What do we do now? I mean, do we just go ask random people for help or what?" Quentin asked the group. His voice was laced with worry.
Julia stood, using height as an advantage while she was still at the front of the buckboard. With a sigh, she finally leaned down and accepted Penny's hand, as he helped her down. Perhaps the good thing about the shit-storm Eliot found himself in was that it provided Julia with a welcome distraction from her own magic-less-ness. Lucky for Penny, that also meant that Jules wasn't focused on being mad at him.
"Where did Shoshanna go?" Julia asked, turning back to look at Josh.
"I don't know. I waited with the wagon." Josh shrugged and climbed down from the buckboard himself. "But the whole village is dedicated to the practice of Healing magic. So, in theory, we should be in safe hands with just about anybody."
Eliot snorted contemptuously. He immediately regretted it, as a ripple of pain shot through his side. "Yeah," he said softly. "That's what I wanna hear: 'Oh, just anybody's probably fine.'"
Margo gave a firm nod and echoed Eliot's sentiments. "We don't want just anybody. We want someone who knows what the hell they're doing." Then, with a softer tone and leaning forward to place a hand on El's knee, she added, "We need the best."
Quentin sighed heavily in Eliot's ear. "Can you stand? Or walk?"
"If it gets me closer to fixing this mess, absolutely," Eliot answered mostly out of determination and stubbornness than actual ability.
Margo and Quentin supported Eliot, one on each side, and helped him to his feet. They shuffled forward in the wagon, where the other half of their group was waiting. Penny reached forward to help but Eliot hissed and reared back. "Not you, cheese-touch."
"What the hell, man?" Penny kept his hand out, glaring. "C'mon!" he urged.
Eliot shook his head in spite of its aching. "I'm serious. You can't touch me. You're too magical."
Penny scoffed, but lowered his arm and took a step back. For added measure, Margo shooed him, making him begrudgingly retreat a few more paces.
With a sharp inhale, Eliot allowed Josh and Julia to replace Margo and Quentin, easing him down to stand on the road. Q and Margo both hopped out of the wagon and quickly returned to Eliot's sides. But he pulled back from them, too. Then he pushed Josh away, who was still supporting him on one side. Quentin tried again to step up but Eliot leaned in closer to Julia.
"Q, please, don't." Eliot finally met Quentin's eyes, silently pleading with him.
A look of hurt flashed across Q's face but he covered it just as rapidly and took a step away. Against his better judgment, Eliot loosed one of his own hands from his stomach, grabbing Quentin by the sleeve. "It's not you. It's magic," he explained. Then he let go, to continue putting pressure on his injury.
"Do you have him?" Quentin asked, looking to his best friend.
Julia shifted into a better position, so Eliot could lean on her properly. Then, she nodded. "Yeah, we're good."
"Okay, we've got a Healer to find," Quentin stated, marching forward to lead the troupe.
Julia and Eliot brought up the rear, moving slowly and somewhat laboriously, as they made their way along the path toward the homes that marked the beginning of the village. Some were actual houses while others looked more like huts or lean-tos. Everyone seemed to silently agree that they would be better off with a Healer in an actual house, so they walked past the first couple residences and stopped at the third home they came to.
Before anyone could even move toward the house, though, the door swung open. A middle-aged woman stepped out over the threshold, giving the Magicians a stern look. She didn't even attempt to cover up the fact that she didn't trust them and certainly wasn't about to offer a welcome, warm or otherwise. Her gaze finally landed on Margo, whom she looked up and down at least twice, before looking to the ground with a grunt and obvious disdain.
Of course, the slight was not lost on the King. "Problem?" Margo asked, her voice sharp in the unseasonably crisp Fillorian air.
The woman snorted and looked at Quentin. "What do you lot want?" she barked, sounding straight out of Oliver Twist.
"Oh, um, well. . ." While Quentin was searching for words, Margo let out a snarl.
Josh leaned into her, clutching her wrist in a gesture he hoped was interpreted as reassuring. "Let it go. We need help."
Margo glanced at him menacingly, but then inhaled through her nose and held it for a minute, closing her eyes before slowly letting the breath back out. She repeated the action, trying to calm herself from the woman's offense.
"State your purpose 'ere, or else be on your way. I don't need no riff-raff dallyin' around my home and place o' business." The woman's cockney accent contributed to her roughness, leaving no doubt that she was serious.
"We need a Healer," Julia called, guiding Eliot closer to the house.
"Ya don't say?" The woman gasped in mockery. Then all pretense faded. "Of course ya want a Healer – why else would you be in the Healer's Village?" She rolled her eyes.
"Then why did you ask?" Margo sniped, raising an eyebrow and placing one hand on her hip.
The woman acted like she didn't hear Margo, wouldn't even look in her direction. Instead, she came forward, hobbling slightly on what must have been a bad leg.
Julia aided Eliot in walking forward, meeting up with the woman. She gave the pair a good once-over. Oddly enough, she leaned toward Eliot and sniffed the air near him. He pulled back slightly, a look of confusion on his pained face. With another whiff, the woman shook her head and stumbled backward.
"Whatever you've been meddlin' with, I want no part of." She waved her hands dismissively and started turning away.
"Wait," Quentin said, approaching her. "Please, you have to help us."
"I don't have to do nothin'!" The woman spat, making Q back away. She looked pointedly at Eliot. "That wound is dark magic, that is. I wouldn't touch that wit' a ten-foot pole." She shook her head dejectedly and then looked back at Quentin. "And I don't know anyone else in this village who'd be foolish enough to muck about with none of this either, so you're better off looking somewheres else." Again, the woman turned to make her way back inside.
Margo marched forward, holding a hand up in protest. "Hang on just one monkey-fucking minute here." The woman stopped, mid-turn, peeking at Margo over her shoulder. "We need help. It doesn't have to be from you, but we do need someone. And we're not leaving until my best friend's stomach stops looking like a pile of discarded tampons from a women's retreat at sleepaway camp."
Quentin and Julia looked at each other questioningly, each raising an eyebrow, but ultimately both shrugged and decided to shake off this most recent Margo-ism.
The Healer turned to face Margo straight-on, glaring at her. Margo was undeterred. "Now, are you gonna help us or not?"
"Even if it wasn't dark magic," the woman started, her voice full of malice, "do you think me fool enough to betray the crown?"
The air fell silent. Nobody moved. Finally, Margo let out a single, harsh laugh. "Listen, Linda," she began, without any hesitation, "I am the motherfucking crown, mmkay?"
The woman ardently shook her head, stopping Margo's words. Then, the Healer rushed Margo, grabbing her hands and pulling her arms out straight in front of her, wrists facing up.
The harsh lines of the brands that had been burned into Margo's flesh – solid X's with some Fillorian detailing around them – were on display. The older woman looked from the brands to Margo and back again, a fiery hatred in her eyes, before roughly releasing her hold on the girl's wrists, shoving her backward. Josh stepped forward and caught Margo, firmly grasping her shoulders and giving them a tight squeeze.
"You," the woman said, pointing a bony finger, "are the disgraced and banished former-King. Being here, or being associated with you, is traitorous. Punishable by death."
Penny laughed. "So that's why you don't wanna help? That's some dumbass reasoning. It's actually in your best interest to help us." The woman snapped her head in the man's direction, a curious look on her face. "The sooner our friend gets healed, the sooner we leave Fillory," he told her, enunciating his words purposefully.
This seemed to resonate with the woman, as she looked at Penny thoughtfully. She shot a disdainful side-eye toward Margo, but then focused her attention back on the Traveler. "Fine, then," she finally told him, apparently deciding he was the only worthy one in the group.
"You'll help us?" Julia asked, hope filling her voice.
The woman snickered. "Fat chance," she said, shaking her head as she looked Julia and Eliot over. Then, focusing back on Penny, she explained, "There is one who might help you. He's a bit of an odd one, kind of outcast from the rest. But he's a good Healer."
Penny nodded and stepped forward, trying to show some semblance of authority to appease the woman. "Where can we find him?"
With a snort, the woman nodded her head back toward the main road. "There's a cabin down the road a ways. Just at the back edge of the village." She juts her chin forward, indicating a slight angle in direction. "There'll be a slight fork in the path. Take that and follow it down to the cabin. There, you'll find 'im." As she started to turn away again, she stopped. She glanced over at Eliot, hunched over and clinging to Julia. Something that almost resembled sympathy showed at the very edges of the woman's eyes, for just a moment, but she quickly shook it away.
Then the woman turned her back to them completely, hurriedly hobbling her way back into her house. "Thanks," Penny called after her, out of a sense of duty if nothing else.
As soon as the woman was back inside, Margo stomped her foot and let out a harsh noise somewhere between a growl and a scream. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. Margo stood still but tense, her hands in tight fists hanging at her sides. Her jaw was clenched tightly and she ground her teeth together, fighting to hold back what she was thinking of saying. Finally, in an uncharacteristic display of restraint, she relaxed. Without another word, she turned and marched her way back up the road, toward their wagon.
The others all followed suit. Eliot groaned as they did. "Back to the fucking wagon, just great," he grumbled, limping himself along next to Julia.
"It's that or Traveling," Penny threatened, only half-jokingly, from a few feet behind. Eliot huffed in response, but was grateful that the man was at least keeping his distance.
"So, we're going down the road to this other Healer?" Josh from his seat at the buckboard, holding the reigns of the horses.
"Yeah, and quick," Quentin answered, pulling himself into the back of the wagon. He helped Julia and Eliot in, as well.
Penny hopped up in front with Josh and, with the other four settled in the back, the wagon rolled forward down the path.
Julia sat next to Eliot, with Q and Margo across from them on the other side. Eliot looked somewhat better, apparently helped by the fact that the person touching him didn't have magic. That didn't help Julia much, since she was trying to forget that fact, but she was glad, at least, to be able to help anyway.
Quentin sat with his arms propped on his knees, forcing himself to keep his knees from shaking with anticipation. The anxiety was rolling off him in waves, although he tried to hide it. He decided to focus his attention on something—someone—else. He glanced next to him, to where Margo was sitting in a corner of the wagon. Her arms were folded over her chest, head tilted down slightly. She was staring toward some random spot on the floor of the wagon, although the look in her eyes suggested she was a million miles away. Q scooted over a few inches, closer to her on the bench. He bumped his knee against hers to draw her attention. She didn't look at him, but she did let out a small sigh and shift slightly, acknowledging his presence.
Quentin decided to forego delicacy and just charge full-steam ahead. "About what she said back there—"
"Don't," Margo snapped. She sat up straight and stretched her arms out beside her. The woman stretched, cracking her neck. Quentin sighed dejectedly and slumped back on the bench. Noticing the change in his demeanor, Margo placed a hand on Q's knee. "I don't give a shit what some forest wench says. And it's not worth talking about. I'll reverse the banishment and be King again, and my success will be my revenge."
Quentin smiled at his friend, nodding in support and encouragement. The rest of the ride went in silence. It was about another twenty minutes or so before they had made it to the turn-off and followed it down to a cabin.
It looked significantly more cozy than the cottage where they left the older woman. The cabin was a good distance from the village, on the edge of yet another of Fillory's seemingly endless supply of forests. A stream ran alongside the cabin, giving it the feel of a mountainous retreat. It felt like a good place to be, a good and solid and helpful place.
Quentin had decided on the ride that he wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer here. That these Healers would help them, help Eliot. That everything would be all right. So when the wagon came to a stop, Q leapt out and made his way directly to the front door of the domicile.
Quentin raised a fist and knocked on the door. He waited a moment before knocking again. When nothing happened, he leaned forward, listening for noises from within. It was dead silent. Quentin pounded his fist on the door, this time hammering it with severity. "Hello!" he hollered, trying to rouse anyone inside.
"Um, hi?" A soft voice, with a hint of an accent, returned from behind Quentin. He whirled around to see a young man approaching. He appeared to be barely 19 or 20 years of age with short sandy-blond hair. In his arms, he was carrying a few camel-pouches of water that had been filled at the stream. "Can I help you?"
"You better be able to," was Margo's response, from beside the wagon. "Are you the Healer?"
The young man shook his head gently. "No," he answered as he continued up the path, setting the water-pouches on a table outside the cabin door. Now, he was standing right in front of Quentin. He glanced from Q to Margo and then focused back on Quentin. "I'm his assistant, Arrow," he explained, the accent thicker now and discernible up close, sounding something like an Irish brogue.
He extended a hand to Quentin, who returned the favor, and said, "I'm Quentin. I'm sorry for being short, but I'm not sure that we have much time. My friends and I, we need your Healer right away."
Arrow nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. Of course, that could have just been the way he normally looked, with his soft, gentle features. Quentin noticed that his eyes were gold and appeared to be sparkling. The thought occurred that he may not be completely human. With a small smile, Arrow said, "So, what's wrong, exactly?" He cocked his head to the side, giving Quentin a quizzical look.
"Oh, um," Q pulled himself from his thoughts. "It's my boyfriend," Quentin answered without hesitation. It's only after the word is out of his mouth that he realizes he said it and he has to force a stupid grin from spreading across his face.
Arrow turned his attention to the group of Magicians. His golden eyes settled on Eliot, immediately widening in concern. He gave a firm, curt nod before turning back to Quentin. "Hang on." The assistant didn't wait for a reply before turning and heading back toward the stream, disappearing around the back of the cabin, into the edge of the forest.
Nothing had really happened yet, but Quentin still found himself heaving a sigh a relief. He waved his friends over. "I feel good about this," he said as they gathered together around the front door. They all stared intently in the direction the Healer's assistant had gone.
Within a few minutes, Arrow reappeared. Another man was at his side, maybe just a year or two older. They were walking quickly toward the group, speaking in hushed tones to each other.
". . . it feels different," Arrow was saying as they approached. The other man had been watching him attentively as they walked, only looking toward the group of friends when he was right upon them.
The second man, apparently the Healer, had shaggy dark hair and deep brown eyes. His features were also gentle and pleasant, but significantly more masculine than the almost ethereal androgyny of his cohort. His eyes traveled across the group of friends, taking in each one with care. He started from the end, with Penny, then Josh, and then Margo. His gaze lingered only a fraction of a second on Margo's arms, where she unabashedly displayed the marks of her banishment. The man didn't say anything and, in fact, gave Margo a polite and what seemed to be a knowing smile. His attention turned to Julia, raising an eyebrow as he scanned the dark-haired woman. Finally, he looked to Eliot, eyes narrowing and then widening again.
Arrow interrupted the inspection by clearing his throat. He was sidled up next to Quentin and put a hand on his shoulder, in a reassuring manner. "This is Quentin," he told his companion.
The Healer snapped his head in Q's direction at the introduction. An odd expression appeared on his face – something like shock, or a kind of recognition – and he gets a faraway look in his dark eyes. Quickly, he righted himself, literally shaking his head to clear away whatever had crossed his mind. He nods toward Quentin before taking a step back and addressing the whole group.
"I can't make any promises," he told them, his voice deep and steady. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even more than it already was, before taking a hesitant step toward Eliot. "You're shrouded in dark magic. And it's wreaking havoc on every part of you," he explained solemnly.
"No shit," Eliot managed to grumble.
The Healer actually smiled a bit at that. "Let me know when you don't feel up to sarcasm – that's when we'll know to worry." Eliot chuckled and nodded in response.
"So, you do know what's wrong?" Julia asked.
The man looked Julia up and down before responding. "Yes," he said slowly. "Something that should never have been there was expelled recently." He looks at Eliot's stomach, where Sorrow I had slammed into him, tearing flesh and muscle and even nicking some organs, so that the Monster would finally be released. "It left something behind," the man finished, his voice low and dark.
"Can you fix him?" Margo asked, suddenly standing right next to them with hands on her hips.
"I will do my best," is the answer.
Margo let out a harsh, exasperated laugh. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off, this time by Arrow. "This is a unique case, with great difficulty and risk. We will do all that we can." Then, without another word, he gathered up the water containers he'd had earlier and headed into the cabin. Noises immediately start to rise from within as Arrow must have been making various preparations and gathering required materials.
"Come in, all of you," the Healer told them, gesturing toward the open door. He made his way over to it, eyeing Quentin curiously as he passed him. "Oh," he added, stopping and spinning around to face the group again. "You can call me RC." He flashed a smiled and then stepped across the threshold and disappeared inside.
After only a second of pause, Quentin sighed and followed, encouraging the other Magicians to do the same.