FIC :: Fales of Tone (3/4)

["C S Armitage" <soren_nyrond@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Here we are again, after a delay caused by ISP problems.

Not that I'm getting very far at present, due to fundamental difficulties with planning a future episode. But I'll keep posting that I have. Again, thanks for the feedback

Soren


Is everybody sitting comfortably ?
Then I'll begin


TITLE: Fables of Tone (3/4) 
AUTHOR: Soren Nyrond
DISCLAIMER: All characters in this part belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Some Archetypes are being used in this story: they look like they belong to Other Companies, but it's the Archetype I'm borrowing, and not their characters.  
SUMMARY: It's got Buffy and Willow in it, it's got a generic city-state andit's got exposition (for those who like such things)
ARCHIVING:: What archiving ? Do I have an archive ?  
SPOILERS: None, but don't look too closely for the smut because you might be disappointed.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: All nice feedback welcome. Thanks to all those who've written so far.
 

  
Fables of Tone - - Part 3

 

 

"My Lady - - your visit . an honour . and the battle . "

"First Citizen," Buffy said, smoothly, "my companion is still rather fatigued. We slept but little last night."

"Oh, I quite understand." The First Citizen, a round little man, in white robes, and with a turban so broad and rounded it almost looked to be his brother balanced atop his head, bowed and bobbed, and enthused, over the breakfast he had ordered served to the heroes in the main hall of the Pig and Blanket.

"If there is ought we humble citizens can do . " His tone clearly implied that fighting was not among the items on the civic agenda.

"There is one thing," Buffy said. She had Willow had discussed it, something about three in the morning, when they'd woken first, before they helped each other back to sleep. "We are looking for a scholar whom we understoodmight have passed this way. A tall man, with a reserved air. He may callhimself Giles."

"Master Gilles - - oh, yes: you are but a day or so behind him. He was being escorted by two of the famed Brothers of Nahte, to see the high lord."

"Where would we find the High Lord ?" Willow asked.

The First Citizen almost grovelled.

"We know not exactly, mighty Lady, Scout of the Night Mistress. It is saidthat there is a shrine, in the mountains."

"Which way ?" Buffy asked, a parchment (actually a sheet of Willow's note-book) to her elbow.

The First Citizen's voice fell.

"I regret to say . "

"Yes ?"

"In the mountains where the Brazen Serpent Clan have their Hold."

 

"So, we know which way we're going," Buffy said, as they packed away their things in the room.

"And we know Giles was here before us," Willow added.

"So we're on the right trail," Buffy said, snaking a hand out.

"Yes," Willow said, slapping it away playfully, "But it doesn't lead insidemy armour."

"Don't we have time . ?"

"With most the town downstairs ? And you always say how pink I look afterwards - everyone would know."

"You're the mighty Scout, I'm your Companion - isn't that part of the job description, keeping you in peak awareness ?"

"Is that why, when we're at home, you always wait till after you patrol, before I get snugglies ?" Willow asked.

The mention of 'home' served to clam both girls down, and Buffy laced Willow back into the black armour and helped her don her "kickin' boots", as Willow insisted she call them. Then Buffy shouldered the magick bag and theyset out (via a call at Qu'dim's apothecary, where Willow stocked up on herbs and powders, "just in case").

 

The mountains were going to be about four or five hours' walk away, until the First Citizen introduced his son, a young man barely coming out of his teen years, together with five horses.

"Sharouq will ride with you, and bring the horses back."

It didn't seem worth arguing. Neither Buffy nor Willow felt it was the right time, either, to bring up their unfamiliarity with matters equestrian. Except that, when they tried it, mounting seemed perfectly natural and horseback seemed just as familiar as riding in Joyce's jeepster (though withoutthe problems of accelerator, brake, or other traffic.

So, it was in company and on horseback that they set out from Qu'dim on Rupert Giles' trail.

 

The scout was high on a rock crag. The witch-doctor had provided him with a curious brass devise, set with polished crystals, with which he could watch the city. He saw the party set out, and watched as, after a few minutes, they crossed the narrow Baklis river, running twistingly along its broader bed (the rains were not due for several months), and then turned towards the mountains.

They were coming. The witch-doctor had to know, so that he could summon hisdark servants and slay them, as he had been ordered.

 

Sharouq seemed happy enough to ride with Buffy and Willow - or, rather, with Serena and Gabrelita, as he insisted on calling them.

He chatted openly, asking whole hosts of questions, mostly to do with theirfantastic adventures prior to coming to Qu'dim. Buffy wasn't sure if the so of the First Citizen of a city that seemed straight out of the Arabian Nights was ready for accounts of life in 20th century America, on top of theHellmouth, but as Willow was no wiser as to what their supposed selves haddone, and as Gabrelita was apparently some sort of story-teller, she just had to make things up.

Willow, meanwhile, was working through the rowan rod ritual again, only this time trying to make it sensitive to Giles. Except that the spell, when looking for "home", called for something from there. Usually that was no problem: Willow carried a comb or her house keys. But in the case of Giles all she had was a pencil, which she had taken off his desk some weeks before. So she wasn't sure whether or not it would work properly.

And something kept interfering with her concentration. It was as if someone were whispering in her inner ear, someone who had something important to say but didn't dare speak clearly enough to be overheard.

Buffy was also having problems concentrating, but for another reason. She had no problems with Willow and Oz (or, actually, Willow and Xander), and Willow had never said that her own relationship with Angel raised any Issues. But Xander and Oz and Angel were in Sunnydale, and she and Willow were here. And so was Sharouq. And he was young, and nicely proportioned, and seemed to worship them, and he was probably fit and healthy and .

And these were things, she told herself firmly, that she ought not to be thinking about.

After an hour, they switched horses; at least, Buffy and Willow did - Sharouq said his horse, Taluin, or Fire-Hair, was used to the desert and would easily manage. Then, after another hour, and almost at the foot of the mountains, they did so again.

Buffy was partway through a (slightly edited and utterly re-cast) version of the movie of "Mission Impossible", and was trying to work out whether shecould segue into the "Avengers" movie (Giles had insisted they go to see it, then spent the next week complaining about how unfaithful it was to the original, which, after all, been made in the Sixties, for *'s sake !!), when she caught a hand-signal from Willow.

Something was obviously up and, whether Willow was running on Wicca-sense or whatever it was that this Serena person used, Buffy wasn't going to ignore it. There was a faint tingle in her Slayer-instinct.

 

The last handsful of black powder were poured into the flames, the appropriate ritual words spoken.

The witch-doctor waited, then spoke the final words of Summoning and Binding. And, just in case, he had two young members of the Clan between him andthe circle. If the demons escaped . well, they were usually more tractable after they had fed .

There were five of them, each roughly the shape of a man, with the head of a bird of prey, with a cruel curved beak. They had four arms, two of whichhad feathers running down them, and the other two didn't, and all twenty fingers were curved and clawed. And, when he had checked the Binding and had let them out of the circle, wherever their feet rested what grass there was withered and died at once.

"I have called you."

"You have called us: now feed us." Their voices were a reedy chorus, like snakes in an echo chamber.

"My foe is your foe."

"Your foe is our foe. Feed us."

"My foe is your meat. Three come. One is a boy: seize him, and bring him to me. The young women you may slay and eat: they are my foe: they are to be your meat."

There was a brief silence, then: "We shall obey."

 

 

End of Bit 3