Fae and Fare (The Wandering Inn, #2)

by Pirateaba

I am not happy. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again. But this is tragedy, and I can either fold up and die, or move on. Because that’s what a clown does. I think I get it. We make comedy out of tragedy, and pretend everything’s funny when it’s not. We… Tell jokes so no one can see the tears inside.

Something inside of me wants to rage out. Something in me is disappointed. Demons? These are just people with skin problems. They’re no different than humans. They work as a team—they fight and kill, and they probably fear and hate us as much as we hate them. What a crappy thing to be afraid of. But that’s not what a [Clown] does! My thoughts twist, and my lips do the same. A [Clown] points out the way the world is broken and laughs at it.

“Here’s the joke! All you—you people out there. You’re fighting against these humans and you think you’re the scariest things around. But here’s the funny thing: you’re just killing people like you. Ordinary people who become soldiers. We called you monsters and you believed it. But listen. You’ve never seen a real monster.”

The funniest thing. They don’t understand what I’ve done, or what I am. But I killed monsters and they think that makes me a good person. Hilarious.

The voices in Rags’ head urged her on as she raised her sword, and she knew the Chieftain could hear the same words. Fight. Fight! FIGHT. Fight or die! Kill or die! They charged, for the last time. But as they did, Rags heard another voice. It was quiet, but it spoke in her mind, a younger voice, from twenty-odd years ago. The voice of a King. It whispered to her. This is not who we are. It made her falter. Rags hesitated as the other Chieftain screamed at her. She heard the voice in her head, louder than the rest. Remember.

How? How are you so small but able to do so much? Rags met his eyes. She felt the cold glass in her palm. She gritted her teeth, and rasped. I am Goblin. I am small. But I look down upon you all.

“How? A Skill?” The faerie looks offended. It’s practically their default expression around me. “A Skill? Pshaw! As if you could bottle knowledge and true magic so easily! Nay, what she did, she did herself and for that she is special.”

“Us? Visit your pathetic kind and take your small gifts? We left your crumbling, dying world centuries ago. The earth dies, and death fills the air. We want nothing of it.” And just like that she drops a bombshell in my lap. I’d suspected the faeries journey across worlds, but ours? We once had…? And we lost them because of pollution. Holy fuck.

“I remember the old stories. Did heroes like Cú Chulainn once walk our earth?” The faeries pause, and then a look of infinite regret passes across their gaze. Just for a second. “Not yours, mortal. Not yours. There is magic in the worlds, but yours has no heroes or legends that ever walked your earth. Nothing true or worthy. All ye have now is dust and old dreams.”

“And Gandalf paused, and spoke. He looked at Pippin with a smile, and said ‘End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.’ And Pippin said, ‘What? Gandalf? See what?’” I look around. My audience is spellbound. I take a breath. “‘White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.’” As I finish speaking, I look up, about to finish the scene and describe the Rohirrim coming to Gondor’s aid. But I pause, and hesitate. I see a speck of something bright and pure and eternal fall to the ground and melt in the snow. A tear. The faerie floating in the air above me slowly drifts downwards, until she’s right in front of me. Eye-to-eye. She stares at me, and her voice is quiet. “I was wrong, mortal. There are still things in your world worth seeing and hearing.”

“Hah! You think your light is bright? It’s but feeble glimmer compared to yon candle up overhead.” The faerie gestured upwards, and Ryoka didn’t have to look to know she was pointing at the sun. “Well, I can’t make light as bright as the sun. I’m sorry if that’s disappointing to you.” “Worry not, pathetic human. All you mortals do is disappointing and sad.”

“You are pale. Have ye never seen war before, Human?” The faerie points at the battlefield and my eyes follow unwillingly. It doesn’t seem real. But I know it is. I can’t even speak, but somehow the words still come out. “No. Never.” The Frost Faerie shrugs. “It is just another battle. It is natural.” The faeries eye me as I shake my head. “It’s not.”

*Rule one of monsters. You didn’t kill them. You didn’t even hurt them. I don’t care if you dropped a bomb on them or cut off their heads. They’re alive. Run.

Nae, ye are a plaything of greater powers still. But you don’t even know what ye’ve given up, do you?” “Given up? What do you mean?” “Ach. How would we explain it? What good can a slave do with the chains on their neck? But you put it on willingly, didn’t ye?” She looks at her companions and shakes her head again. “Your…classes, fool! Your levels and foolish things. You are a plaything, and you know not what that means or who plays this game.”

“I swear it. I swear it on the water, by the grass and earth and sky and on my name. I swear it by honor and life itself.”

Do you think we are Sluagh, mortal? Do ye think we delight in the suffering and death of innocents? Nae. We are no Redcaps nor Finfolk to delight in death of children. We are not monsters.

“The price is always the same. Life for life. Death for death. And even if there is not death, you ask much of the fates.”

“If there is destiny, I defy it. I will not bow to fate.”

“Um, but why wouldn’t you just use a gun or something and not share the way the weapons are made?” “Aside from the obvious point that any weapon can be used against its owner, I have found that nothing stays secret for long. The instant a weapon is used, it is copied a thousand times over. Have you not witnessed this yourself?” Erin thought of her hamburgers and had nothing to say. Lady Magnolia sighed again. “If these ‘guns’ were to become widespread, two groups would benefit most from their usage. In less than a decade, the House of Minos would fall to its ancient enemy and the Antinium would sweep across the continent.” Another pause. “Were things otherwise, and were I more foolish, I might even consider manufacturing these devices myself, regardless of the risk, to deal with the Antinium. With them, I could create an army capable of killing Dragons; a force that would humble even Flos on the field of battle. But I am a bit wiser than that. By the time I defeated the Antinium—and that is still not wholly predictable—the entire world would be armed thusly, and we would burn nations to the ground and slaughter entire species before the bloodletting was done. No.”

“Just because someone is really…really annoying or useless doesn’t mean they deserve to die.” “Neither does it mean that I should waste time and resources saving them.” “But that means you’re killing them if you don’t help. That’s wrong.” A sigh. Erin gritted her teeth as Magnolia looked at her. “What if they are a danger? What if killing them would save thousands of lives? Would that not be the most morally correct choice?” Now Erin was getting angrier. Magnolia was—well, she wasn’t a bad person. Maybe. But she was getting on Erin’s nerves. “You don’t get to decide that. God—gods know everything, so I guess if they existed, they’d be able to say if that was right or wrong. But the gods are dead. Everyone tells me that. So no one gets to decide if things are moral. You can kill however many people you want, but you can’t say it was the right thing to do.”

Selys Shivertail

SHE'S Zel Shivertail's DAUGHTER!? That was only a passing detail and hasn't become important yet, but DAMN. EDIT: Niece, apparently, but still.

Din— Snap. Toren heard the snap in his mind and in real life. He stared down at the bell in his hands. No more. Nevermore. He would never be a slave again. He would be free. No matter what he had to do for it.

Well...Considering everything so far in this book, you almost can't blame him. Even if this is kind of a terrifying development.

They were thirteen Goblins in all, and not your ordinary group of Goblins either. Each one was over Level 10 in a combat-oriented class, and they all wore armor and carried swords that were neither rusty nor broken. They were part of the Red Fang tribe, and they were on a mission to kill. The twelve Goblins and one Hobgoblin that marched through the snow had only one task: kill the [Innkeeper]. Kill the girl and do not tell the Chieftain. Each one of them had been told this by Garen Redfang himself in secret, and so they moved tirelessly through the snow, alert for any signs of this Human.

O.O Rags is going to LoSe HeR fUcKiNg MiNd when she finds out. 'I am Chieftan,' my ass.

This time, the high-pitched voice is gone. The voice that comes out of the glittering diamond of a body is lower, and it echoes. Something else is speaking. Or perhaps it’s the true form of the faerie that even Erin and I can’t see. “We care. Watch your tongue, mortal. We care. We care like pouring rain and a new shoot’s blossom. We care for fires’ burn and for scurrying things caught by flood and fang. We care for the fading earth and the sigh of a dying breeze. We care.” “So stop asking!”

“Then help. You can’t just watch. There’s a cost, even for the audience.” One of the faeries blinks. The others scratch at their heads. “There is?” My heart beats again. I hear it, but my mind is racing. I grasp for straws. “Of course there is. The audience is never silent. They gasp and encourage or boo the actors. And sometimes they help. Sometimes they change the story.”

“‘Tis so often we see on high that it is like rain. The thing that kings dream of and heroes possess; An end or beginning of such tales, which mortals call doom. The birthright of tragedy; a speck of hope in despair. As blades of grass are crushed ‘neath heedless foot So too shall the skein of woven fate Crumble and break Upon this earth. Yet for this one, the star shines brightest now, At fire’s waning and the moment hammer strikes. ‘Twill spell her fate, the wretched child Who would dice upon the table of worlds with Gods. But quick, we fly on! To bear witness for friendship burgeoning. And let the oldest stories rise again. Lo! We declare such immortal words.” The other faeries looked at each other. One spoke. “Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

“I grew up reading stories of dragons hoarding their gold, or fighting knights in battle. A dragon. Terrifying, yes, dangerous, yes, but for every Human in my world, when we dream of magic, we think of your kind.” “Really? Truly?” It’s as if he’s hanging on my every word, suddenly. And I have a thought: maybe he’s just as eager to know he matters as I am. I nod. My heart is pounding. “We know of you, even if all we know are stories. Remember that, Teriarch.”

“I can assure you Lady Reinhart, the Guild would never seek to go to war with a member of the Five Families—” “I’m sure they wouldn’t. But unless I receive a satisfactory answer, it is I who shall go to war with them.”