Erik the Goth slouched into Ye Olde Coffee Haus relatively early that evening.
"Your usual?" asked the pretty redhead behind the counter.
Erik shook his head. "Give me a double cappuccino. With vodka in it."
Her eyes widened. "Bad day?"
"Very. Why are the lights in here so bright?"
"Oh, we don't usually turn them down until 8:00. Most of our goth clients don't start to show up until at least 9:00, and the day people like it light."
He sighed, and slouched over to a table. His stringy hair was still damp with cold sweat. He idly toyed with the sugar shaker while he waited.
The girl brought his drink out to him, glanced around at the empty store, and slid into the hand-carved chair across from him. "So you wanna talk about it? Or have you written a poem that you're going to share later?"
He shook his head morosely and took a long sip of the steaming concoction. "I can't even write about it yet. The wounds are still too fresh... too raw. I cannot put the full depth of my despair into words. Not yet. Perhaps never."
She blinked. "Hey, that wasn't bad. Are you going to read it later?"
He sighed and cupped his head in his hands. "He took my soul away, Peggy Jean. He crushed my spirit, that place in me from which my poetry wells up as waters from a mountain spring. I may never write again, never perform again." He grabbed her by the apron strings, his face and voice suddenly frenzied. "He took my soul!"
Her eyes were wide. "Hey, if you wanted to grab me, all you had to do was say so," she said. "I go for goth types."
He fell back into his seat with a moaning sigh. "There, you see? I can't even dramatize properly. Sir Hugo the Mad has plowed my rose garden, has razed it to the ground, and I can't even get any sympathy from a coffeehouse attendant!"
"He plowed your rose garden?" she asked incredulously. "Why, the nerve! I would've slapped him right upside the face, right there."
His head jerked up. "Ah," he said. "No sympathy for me, but sympathy for my roses. That's a start."
"Why, you ought to do something to get back at him! That slimeball! Imagine, destroying a rose garden!"
He spread his fingers expressively. "Pray tell, what can I do? I have no armies, no riches. I can't get into the proper poetry-writing spirit of angst if I have money."
"Well, you ought to do something! You're an Evil Overlord, aren't you? Why don't you kidnap his daughter or something?"
Erik looked at her thoughtfully.
"All I'm saying is, black isn't really my color. I'm not really the goth type, you know?" said one of the two figures stealing through the night.
"It's not a goth outfit," said the other patiently. "It's a breaking-and-entering outfit."
"Well, I'm just saying. It makes my face look so washed out, you know?" said the first, who had a distinctly female voice. A shock of red hair was sticking out from under her ski mask.
"That's why you're wearing the mask," said Erik.
"Oh," said Peggy Jean. "Okay, I get it."
They approached the front gates of Sir Hugo's castle. There were two guards on top of the gatehouse. "Halt!" one of them called. "Who goes there?"
"Oh, just a poor tortured soul, here to exact my revenge on the one who has wronged me so foully," said Erik with a dramatic sigh.
The two guards looked at each other. "Um, well, I don't think we can let you in," said the first guard.
"You annoy me," Erik said contemptuously. He raised his hand. The air began to crackle with static electricity. Then, with an ear-splitting crash, a lightning bolt arced from the sky and struck the first guard. He soundlessly fell off the roof and landed, with a soft thud, in, of all things, the rose bushes just outside the gates.
"Uh, right. I'll just let you in, then," called the second guard.
Erik grinned. "Good man."
Peggy Jean looked at Erik with increasing respect. "Wow. Not just a goth, but a goth who can throw lightning bolts." She shivered. "Ooh, I'm really starting to like this."
The sound of giggling penetrated Barbara's dulled senses. She couldn't see anything. She tried to frown, but her muscles weren't quite working properly.
The giggling slowly faded into the distance, and as it echoed, it started to sound more and more like a running stream. Barbara finally realized that her eyes were closed, and she opened them. She was lying on her side on the forest floor. A single leaf floated down and landed in front of her nose. The light was very dim.
She sat up and shook her head to clear it, then looked around. Her vision was fuzzy, but clearing quickly. Johnson was lying a few feet away, and Stan was over past him. Off to the other side was Roderick, standing up but swaying a bit unsteadily, his hair rumpled, a dazed expression on his face.
Barbara stretched, and found that her muscles were tight but still working okay. She walked tentatively over to Roderick. He didn't seem to see her, so she waved a hand in front of his face, then tapped him on the shoulder.
He grinned a goofy grin, leaned over, and kissed her on the neck.
She stood there in shock for several seconds, then yelped and jumped backward. Roderick yelped too and stumbled backwards, tripped over Stan, and fell in a heap.
"What was that for?" she shouted, still slightly in shock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Stan stirred. "Awah?" he mumbled.
"What?" said Roderick, blinking and looking around wildly. "Where are we? What happened?"
"Unh," Stan agreed.
"You -- you --" Barbara sputtered, then stopped. "What? What do you mean, where are we?" She looked around. "Where are we?"
"Yeah," Roderick agreed, starting to pick himself up off the ground. "That's pretty much what I was saying. We were in an oak and hickory forest before, lots of old-growth stuff. But these are all chestnut trees." He stopped, puzzled. "That's odd. I thought the blight had killed all the wild chestnut trees six years ago."
Barbara blinked. "I didn't know you were into botany."
"Oh, yeah. Oh... yeah..." He got a slightly dreamy look on his face.
Barbara frowned, puzzled. "Roderick, just what the hell is going on here? And why the hell did you kiss me?"
Roderick, who had just gotten to his feet, stumbled backwards and fell in a heap again. "Why did I what?" he cried.
"Don't tell me you don't --" She stopped. Well, he had been pretty out of it. "What happened here?" she said again. "Not to sound repetitive or anything, but..."
"When you figure it out, let me know too," put in Stan, who was still lying on the ground with his eyes closed.
"Huunhh," contributed Johnson, rolling onto his back.
"Well... the guards were about to catch up with us," Roderick said slowly. "But then I offered the milk to the faeries, and then..." He shook his head. "I don't know. It was weird. I felt like I was falling, but... no, not quite. I was falling, but I wasn't falling downward. More like falling sideways."
"Yeah," Barbara murmured. "I think I know what you mean. I felt something like that too. It's the last thing I remember before I woke up here."
"Well, after that I --" Roderick stopped, looking sheepish. "Uh, never mind. Well, I think we'd better figure out where we are. Which way is the sun?" He looked around, trying to see through the dense leaf cover. "Wow, that canopy is pretty thick. There's not even much wind blowing to help us see through."
"Roderick?" Barbara said warningly. "You know something that you're not telling us."
"Um. Yeah?" he said, circling around one of the nearby trees. "Shoot, those branches are all pretty high. Could someone give me a boost?"
"Not me," mumbled Stan. "I've got a hangover."
"Yenah," agreed Johnson.
"Sorry," said Barbara.
Roderick sighed and sat down with his back to a tree. "Um, yeah. So." He looked up at Barbara, who had her hands on her hips, looking at him expectantly. "Um. Yeah." He fidgeted.
"Something happened," Barbara said sharply. "You know what. We would like to know. Please."
"That, uh, wasn't a question, was it?"
"No."
Roderick frowned. "Didn't think so." He looked around. "Hey, has anyone seen that jug of milk I had earlier?"
Barbara looked around in exasperation, and saw a faint glint a little distance off. "Over there," she said.
Roderick hauled himself back to his feet and went over in the direction she indicated. "Yeah, it's here," he said, picking it up and turning it upside down. "And it's empty. Not a drop left."
"So?" Barbara said.
"So, it was sitting here right-side up. And it's got a narrow top." He looked up at her.
She spread her hands. "So?"
"So, someone or something poured the milk out, and then set the jug back upright. And either it wasn't done here, or something cleaned it all up."
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Like what kind of something?"
He shook his head. "Never mind, you don't believe me anyway. Can someone give me a boost up one of these trees?"
Stan staggered to his feet, obviously weak but not holding his head. "Give me a few more minutes and I'll give it a shot. Hey, Roderick, what happened to your arm?"
Roderick kept staring up the tree, and didn't even turn his head. "Ah, it's nothing, I just got nicked during the battle."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about. Look."
Roderick glanced down at his arm, which was perfectly healed. He touched the skin tentatively. "The dryads," he breathed.
"The what?" Barbara asked.
"The dryads," Roderick repeated absently. "They kissed it, and it... I guess it healed."
"Dryads?" Stan said skeptically.
"Dryads," Barbara repeated noncommittally.
Roderick looked up, his cheeks turning red. "Uh, yeah."
"Are they the ones who drank the milk?" Stan asked mockingly.
"No," Barbara said softly.
"Right," Roderick said. "It wasn't them. They just poured it out for the brownies. I think it was the brownies who actually got us here, somehow. I'm not clear on that part."
"And the dryads... healed you?" Barbara said guardedly.
"Uh, yeah," Roderick said, glancing away, his cheeks darkening another shade. "They, uh... yeah. Like I said, they kissed my arm, and I guess it healed."
"And did they kiss anything other than your arm?"
Roderick shivered, but couldn't quite keep the goofy grin from spreading back across his face.
Barbara sighed. "Okay, okay. So that's why you kissed me when I woke you up."
Stan whistled. "Oh, way to go, Roderick!"
"Shut up," Roderick snapped. "Um, if I did, I'm --"
"Forget it," Barbara said. She added under her breath, "I'm not sure whether to be relieved or insulted."
"What?" Roderick said.
"Never mind. Stan, are you ready to give Roderick a boost?"
It was a disaster -- Stan was unable to stay on his feet for more than a minute or two under exertion. Both he and Roderick tumbled back to the ground.
"Ah, just wait a few minutes," Johnson said. "I'll head up there for you."
He was true to his word; less than five minutes later, he had gotten to his feet, leapt up to catch the lowest branch, and was swinging up to grab the next one. Soon he was climbing gracefully through the branches.
"He acts like he's been doing this his whole life," said Roderick enviously.
Stan shrugged. "He probably has. Barbarians live out in the wilderness, you know. More trees to climb than us city types."
"Roderick, turn to your right just a little bit," Johnson called from above. "Stop there. Okay, you're now facing toward the river." He came back down the tree, in something between a series of leaps and a controlled fall. "I wasn't high enough to be able to see any bridges or anything, but we may be able to find some kind of reference point when we get there."
"But if it's the same river," Roderick said, "then the bridges would probably still be guarded. What good would that do us?"
Johnson shrugged. "It would tell us we've found the right river. We'll just have to get close enough to see the guards, but not close enough for them to see us."
"Great," muttered Stan. "I love the easy jobs."
"And once we've got our bearings," Johnson continued, "we could probably build a raft or something, and cross between the bridges."
"That's a really good idea," said Roderick. "Hey, did you happen to notice how low the sun was in the sky?"
"Well, that's the really strange thing," said Johnson. "It isn't. It's nighttime. All the light we're seeing by," he gestured around them, "is moonlight."
"What?" Barbara said. "That can't be right. Are you sure you've recovered from whatever hit us?"
Johnson pulled himself up to his full height and glared at her.
"And don't try intimidating me again," she snapped.
"He tried to intimidate you before?" asked Roderick with a frown.
"Yes, I'm sure," growled Johnson. "I know the moon when I see it. And yes, it's the brightest I've ever seen it."
"It is?" said Roderick in sudden apprehension. "Uh-oh."
"What? What does that mean?" asked Johnson.
"Well, I would guess that it means we're in the domain of the Unseelie," said Roderick softly. "And that's --"
"Not such a good place to be," Barbara finished.
Roderick looked surprised. "You've studied faerie lore?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Of course. I'm a bard. Bards need to take at least two years of faerie lore." She turned to Johnson; Stan listened in too. "The realm of faerie," she recited, "exists alongside the realm of mortal men, like the reflection in a still lake. Where there are strongholds in the mundane world, there are often faerie strongholds in the faerie world, ruled over by faerie lords. Geographic features overlap, cities overlap, even the peoples of the two lands often share common characteristics. But in some areas, especially wilderness areas, the barrier between the two worlds thins; some people, and some faeries, have been able to cross from one to the other." She blinked. "I think that was from my freshman research paper."
"So how do we get back?" asked Stan apprehensively.
Barbara shrugged. "That wasn't covered until Advanced Topics."
"Let me guess," said Stan. "That was an elective, and you didn't take it?"
"Well, yes," said Barbara. "That would be true."
"I can get us out," said Roderick. "I've been in faerie before."
Everyone jumped, and stared at him.
"Well," Barbara said finally, "then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" As the started walking, she added, "And if we really are in faerie, and if you really can get us out, then I'm going to need to interview you later. Extensively."
She couldn't tell in the dim light under the forest canopy, but it looked as if Roderick's face flushed slightly.
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