Archive of Our Own ^beta

Beau is really fucking tired of fucking Scourgers ruining her fucking day.

Jester is finishing patching up Fjord in the corner, ethereal stitches binding together the edges of his wound. “I don’t have enough to finish it,” Jester says, furrowing her brow, “so, like, don’t go rolling in any mud until it closes all the way, okay?”

“Thanks,” Fjord grits out. He looks like shit.

The whole place is a wreck. The already-decrepit farmhouse looks like a murder scene, chairs broken and thrown down and blood splatters already beginning to stain into the wooden boards. A set of loose bandages and a leather bag sit on the far side of the room, and Nott’s crossbow is still perched precariously in the rafters; it falls down and lands with a thunk.

Mollymauk sits up from the ground where he’s been lying. “Well fuck,” he asks bemusedly, “did we lose?”

“Yeah,” Beau says flatly, “we lost.”

He flops back down onto his back, throwing his arms out over the floor. “Damn. We really could have used a win.”

“Kinda looks like one that we got out alive,” Fjord answers, the twang in his voice tinged by pain.

“No thanks to Caleb,” Beau adds.

Jester gives her a betrayed look. “I’m sure he was trying to help!”

Beau throws her arms out to the destroyed room. “What part of standing there like he was glued to the floor was helping? He didn’t get off a single spell.” She tries to take a deep breath, but the wound in her gut still hurts. “And besides, he knew them. He’s one of them.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Fjord starts, but Beau talks right over him.

“You didn’t see him last night. He was fucking scary, all super-mega-murder-spy. He tortured the other Scourger, and she definitely knew him.” 

Mollymauk chimes in from the floor, picking up his head until his horns jingle. “And you didn’t have to drag him back here, either.”

“Fair enough,” Fjord admits, and leans his head back against one of the walls. The board gives up the ghost, snapping in half behind him.

Beau hardens her voice. “Listen, he knew these ones, too, and he didn’t even raise a hand against them.”

“He tried to cast,” Molly points out. “Didn’t do a thing, but I saw him conjure.”

She spent time throwing him his stupid component bag, and when it came down to it Caleb squished under the pressure like an overripe grape in a wine press. “Sure,” Beau says sarcastically. “Yeah, waving his hands around was real helpful when we were under attack.”

“I’m not sure any of us did better,” Fjord says. He’s right, but it’s still rude.

“I might not have seen him last night,” Jester interrupts, “but I did see him today.” She shakes her head a little. “He was all shut down. Mama says that people who look like that need you to go slow and give them space, because they’re really scared of something.”

“I think being scared of Scourgers might just be called sanity,” notes Molly.

“No,” Jester interjects, “Like really, really, bad-thing-happened-to them scared.”

“Of the consequences of his actions, maybe,” Beau spits out. “He’s fucking evil, Jes, and it might be a good thing that he’s gone.” She gets up, traces the steps of the two other Scourgers across the floor, bends down to touch one of the blood splatters. She frowns. Something about the way the steps move looks oddly familiar. She starts pacing it out, turning and moving like what she can remember from the blonde one, and she doesn’t know how but her body knows the movement.

Jester’s voice interrupts her reverie. “But, Beau, we’ve got to go after them!”

The pattern breaks.

“I’m not sure we should,” Fjord says slowly. “Listen, we nearly got our collective ass kicked by one of those… Scourgers yesterday when we were at full power. We lost bad today. Now…” Beau watches him scan the room. “We’re down bad, and you’re saying we should try to break into HQ.”

Jester visibly deflates. “You’re just going to leave Nott and Caleb?” Fuck. Beau almost forgot, in the mess. It’s not just the shifty wizard who’s gone; they took the thief as a hostage. Whatever game Caleb was playing, she wasn’t in on it.

Molly digs his swords into the ground and uses them to flip himself up. “I’m with Jester.” He pauses. “You all helped me find Toya.”

“Yeah, and she super died,” Beau counters, “and if we go out there we’re gonna super die, too.”

She’s expecting the flinch from Jester, but the flash of rage that crosses Molly’s face takes her aback. There she goes, crossing some line she didn’t know existed; her specialty. Beau sighs. “Okay, listen. Most of you didn’t even see what happened last night, because Fjord was too busy puking his guts out. I think they ran back that way. Let’s at least see where they went.”

They pull themselves together and follow the burn marks.

“Oh,” Jester says, looking up at the scorched tree and wrinkling her nose. She bites her lip. “Well, maybe the short one had, like, really bad vibes.”

Fjord looks around the scorched clearing, everything within a hundred feet burned to ash and the tree-trunks blackened. “Even if we do follow them, how are we supposed to beat this?”

Molly’s eyes glow faintly. “There’s no trail,” he reports. “They weren’t leaving much in terms of blood, but it just… disappears.” He points a scimitar towards a spot in the charred grass, a little flatter than the rest. “Here’s the end of it, and no track away. None from Caleb, though, nor Nott.”

Teleportation, Beau realizes. “Fuck,” she says. “Fjord’s right. Whoever they are, they’re crazy powerful.” She bends down, finds the last few spots of blood in the grass. They barely managed to score a hit. “Traveling like that’s some powerful damn magic.”

Jester’s tail lashes in the way even Beau is starting to realize means concern. “So… even if we wanted to, we can’t follow them?”

Beau stands, and spits on the ground. “Listen,” she admits. “If we want them back, our best chance is making it to Zadash. I… have a friend there. They might be able to give us a pointer.” Dairon can unlock the stone. If Beau knows the name of the leader of the Volstrucker, she can at least direct herself; if she barrels straight into a huge fucking mess, that’s her life anyway. She sighs. “Come on. There’s nothing left for us here.”

----

Zadash is huge and loud, and Beau plans to slip into a crowd and find Dairon the second they can walk through a group and disappear. But the second they reach the city, Jester laces her hand with Beau’s, and curls her tail around Fjord’s wrist. Molly wraps his arm with Fjord’s other one, and strolls into the city, casual as anything.

“You can let go,” Beau says gruffly. She can feel the heat in her cheeks; hopefully, none of the others can see her blush. A tall woman walks by, looks her up and down, sees the linked hands, and keeps moving. Damn.

Jester gives her her most winning smile. “But Beau,” she says dramatically, “we can’t get any more separated!” The pearly glint of her teeth doesn’t mask the worry in her eyes. Beau gives up; trying to resist Jester is like standing in front of an unbroken horse. You’re gonna lose, and probably get kicked hard for your trouble.

She leads them through the city, to the alley where she was supposed to make contact, and drops Jester’s hand as she walks the last few feet. Nobody’s there. The walls are smooth, with no windows on the lower floor, and a few pieces of wood leaned at an angle against one wall do nothing to change the impression. It’s just a nondescript, narrow, passageway that smells faintly of piss. A black-and-white cat hisses at Beau, and runs off.

“Hey,” she calls loudly. “It’s safe. You can come out.”

Nothing happens. Beau leans against the wall, matching the beams.

“Oh,” Jester says. “Is your friend like the Traveler? Very, very sneaky when they want to be?”

The Traveler is definitely nonexistent, so, like, no. But Dairon sure isn’t turning up, either. Beau turns to the group. “I don’t think they’re gonna come until I’m alone,” she admits. “Can you go around the corner and wait?”

Molly crosses his arms. “Right. So, two of us get kidnapped, and you want us to leave you alone in a dark alley to meet someone who won’t show?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yep. I’m planning my own abduction.” She gets a chuckle from Fjord, at least, but Jester doesn’t seem to think it’s funny. Beau sighs. “Okay, listen. Stay in earshot. I’ll call you once they turn up, okay?”

Fjord and Molly eye each other for a long moment, and come to some consensus. Silent communication must be a special skill in whatever clown school they both went to, Beau muses. But it works - the three others peel off, and Beau is left alone in the alley.

“You can come out now,” she goads. No sound; she looks the other way, up, behind the boards, just in case. As she straightens up, Dairon is there. “Hey,” Beau says. “Got your rock.” She tosses the stone to Dairon, and they grab it out of midair. Dairon nods at her. “You wanna tell me good job?”

“Good job,” Dairon says flatly. “You retrieved the item. Next time, try it with fewer casualties.”

News travels faster than fire through a circus tent, Beau guesses. Certainly faster than a bunch of idiots who got thrown in jail, broke out, and fucked off to the swamp to kill an evil frog. She doesn’t even bother to tell Dairon it’s not her fault. She’s pretty sure Expositors can taste lies.

“Axiom,” Dairon says, lifting the stone in their hand. A glossy blue butterfly leaps forth, complicated patterns curling across its wings, and dissipates into thin air. Their lips curl. “A code, for a member of the Cerberus Assembly. Trent Ikithon."

The name doesn’t mean anything to her. “Listen,” Beau presses. “We ran into three Volstrucker on the way here.”

Dairon’s eyes go wide; Beau’s not sure, but she thinks there’s some concern in there, along with the disbelief. “And you survived?”

“I wish you didn’t sound so surprised,” she says, deadpan. Sobers. It’s a serious matter. If Dairon thinks she would have died, then yeah, she probably should have. Good thing she’s about as persistent as a bad penny. “Yeah. We… killed one of them. The other two took two of my friends.” She raises her voice. “Hey, assholes!”

Dairon pulls their hood further up, until she can’t see their face. “What the hell are you doing,” they hiss.

Beau shrugs. “What I promised.” Jester dashes around the corner first, followed by Fjord; Molly strolls behind, both hands on saber hilts. “We had a wizard with us, and a goblin. The second set of Scourgers wasn’t looking for any of the rest of us. They took those two, and ran.”

“It’s awful,” Jester says, her normally bubbly tone deflated. “They just… grabbed Nott, and Caleb was so afraid he went with them.”

“They wanted the wizard,” Beau clarifies. “Think he used to be tied up in the whole outfit. Nott was just collateral.”

She can’t see Dairon’s face, but she can picture the somber expression. “Then your friends are dead.”

Mollymauk shakes his head. “Can’t be. If they wanted him dead, they would have killed all of us where we stood. For some reason, they wanted at least Caleb alive. Gave up once they had him.”

“That’s worse,” Dairon says flatly. “Then the other one is dead, and he’s…” The pause drags out far too long. “If Beauregard is right, and he was one of them once, he still is. Nobody leaves the Volstrucker.”

“Except Caleb,” Jester defends. It’s sweet. Her unceasing optimism applies to murderous assassins, too.

Dairon turns back to Beau. “Send your friends away. You and I need to talk.”

“We’re right here,” Fjord drawls. “You could ask.”

Beau looks at him. “Leave.”

“You need manners lessons,” Molly replies. She used to have those, Beau doesn’t say; the governess ran off crying by the time she was eight. Didn’t stick. She flips him off instead. He links his arm with Fjord’s, and Jester takes his other side. “We’ll be right around the corner. Scream if you need us.”

Dairon waits until they’re out of earshot, then drops their hood. “Did this wizard of yours know you were part of the Cobalt Soul?”

Beau flexes her hand. “Yeah. He knew.”

This time, she’s expecting the sharp intake of breath from Dairon. She’s not expecting them to grab her shoulders and stare into her eyes. “Beauregard. If he knows you are from the Soul, all of us are in danger. He will be tracking you.”

Caleb is a suspicious bastard, and a nervy one, and yeah, definitely at least used to be part of the wizard murder cult. But… Beau just can’t believe that he’d try and track them down to exterminate them. “He was shut down. He wouldn’t rat me out.” Even as she says it, though, she’s less sure. All her conviction and three copper will buy her a mug of cheap ale.

Dairon sighs. “You need to be protected.” They let go of Beau, and she rolls her neck both ways; their grip was tight enough to hurt. “Since you are in Zadash, you need to seek out the Gentleman.” They don’t seem happy.

“Who the hell is that?” Beau asks.

Dairon’s lip curls. “A very bad, very powerful man. But he should be able to provide you with an amulet of protection from scrying.” They toss her something, and Beau catches; a baton about the length of her forearm. “Not for free, though. Tell him you bring many gifts, and be ready to work for it.”

“Can’t you help?”

Dairon flips their hood back up. “No. You’re compromised, Beauregard, and we Expositors do our best work alone. I’ll reach out once it’s safe. Assuming you’re still alive.”

“Thanks,” Beau says flatly, and turns her back. She already knows Dairon will be gone the second she turns around. She examines the baton. It’s wrapped in intricate, tooled blue leather, and as she runs her fingers over it she can feel a slight misalignment in the wood. Beau drives her thumb into it, and the thing snaps out into a full-length Cobalt Soul staff. She turns anyway; there’s no trace of Dairon.

Zeenoth told her she didn’t deserve her staff. Beau clutches this one to her chest. Dairon didn’t give it to her because she succeeded in her mission. But… maybe they gave it to her for facing down three Volstrucker in two days, and making it out alive. Or they just figured she wouldn’t get that lucky again without a real weapon. She takes a couple practice swings, pictures the big Volstrucker as her opponent - with the staff, Beau at least has the reach to hit him before he could touch her. The only problem left is the magic.

She walks back to the mouth of the alley, turns the corner. Molly is balancing both swords, points-down, in the center of his palms, the metal pressing into the red diamonds of his tattoos. Jester is watching, eyes wide, and Fjord looks uneasy. So much for being ready to jump in and protect her, Beau thinks, and realizes that somehow, against her will, the thought has become fond.