White Stag

by Kara Barbieri

  “I don’t need you to take care of me,” I said. The barrier between us was dwindling faster than ever. I had to at least try to keep some defenses up, even if they felt futile.

  Still, I wrapped the bearskin around myself and burrowed my head under its softness. The precious warmth was a godsend in this freezing place.

  “Janneke,” Soren whispered in the darkness.

  “Yes?”

  “Promise me that whatever you do, whatever you decide, you won’t hurt yourself. I don’t think I could live knowing you’ve done something like that.” He rested his gaze on me, and I found myself trapped in his light eyes.

  “You would get over it. After all, I’m a human.”

  “Is that what you think?” he asked. “Or is that just your excuse?”

  I was silent.

  He reached out and brushed my cheek with his thumb. I shivered, but not from fear. There was something burning deep inside of me that was beginning to make itself noticed. Something about his soft words and caresses, the strange mingle of fury and concern drew me close. Yes, the walls were crumbling and the defenses were dying, replaced by soft thoughts that told me to let him in and a burning want that desired something I didn’t even understand.

  An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, calling to its mate. Soren was still watching me with softness in his gaze. The burning traveled down to my navel and stayed there. “Promise me,” he whispered.

  My eyelids were drooping. I was too tired to argue. Too tired to do much more than curl into a semi-comfortable position and sleep. “Fine,” I said. “I promise.”

  For the second time, I fell asleep wrapped in his warm embrace.

  * * *

  AROUND ME THE forest was dark. The lush, full leaves rustled with every step I took, hiding the world around me. I ran with my bow across my back, an axe in my hand. Screaming. They were in this forest somewhere—my mother, my father, my sisters. They were here. I couldn’t doubt it. I couldn’t let myself believe otherwise. The smell of smoke stung my nose as I jumped over log after fallen log.

  “Go get some firewood,” Ma had said. “Avette needs the lodge to be warmer if her baby is going to grow strong.”

  My beautiful sister with her long brown hair that took on a reddish tint in the sun held her baby boy to her breast. The winter was harsher than usual, and if her milk dried up, that would be the end of him.

  Those memories burned through my mind like the smoke that stung my nose and throat. One thought repeated over and over: I should’ve stayed. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve stayed.

  I was a coward, diving into the underground river the moment I heard the battle cries. I was a coward who’d rather save her own life than die with her family. I was a coward because I knew exactly how to survive and I didn’t try to bring anyone with me.

  Now, alone on the bitter, broken field that used to be the village, plumes of vile purple smoke plumed high into the air. Bile rose in my throat at the charred smell of human remains, and as I walked throughout the burnt village, I couldn’t help but see bodies I recognized. Women frozen in expressions of sheer terror and pain, men dead with their weapons in their hands, their bodies covering their loved ones, children who lay with their skulls crushed in. Some still had flesh on their bodies, and the carrion crows overhead circled while they waited for their feast. Some were only scorched bone. I tripped over the growing pile of bones, hands splaying out on the head of an infant. There was just enough skin and flesh left to make out beautiful red-brown hair and dark eyes. Avette’s sweet baby boy. I scrambled back, screaming, as something sharp pierced my hand. I wrapped my fingers around a bent iron nail; the only thing to survive the carnage untouched.

  The bodies around me fluttered away like ashes in the wind, until the barren field was empty. Standing before me was a white-furred stag—the stag—its hooves raking across the once-fertile ground.

  A deep, burning rage came from the pit of my stomach and rooted me to the earth. “It’s dead!” I screamed. “It’s dead. Everything is dead, and it’s not growing back! And it’s your fault. You let this happen!”

  The stag snorted and threw his head back, his antlers catching the beams of the sun like crystals. The light broke across the ruined ground in a pattern of rainbows.

  “Don’t you understand, you stupid animal?” I screamed. “This isn’t supposed to be a beautiful place! It’s a place where people died! It’s the place that changed everything.”

  The stag came forward until his warm breath tickled my face. I stared at him coldly. “What do you want from me? I can’t do anything for you.”

  The animal looked up at me with wise dark eyes and blinked slowly, ashes catching on his white lashes. He pawed at the ground once more, and the land beneath him turned white as snow. The sweet smell of spring filled the air, and flashes of the village as it’d once been caught my eye before disappearing like the wind. He pressed his nose into my shoulder, and the ancient power flowing within him crashed down on me like an avalanche. The smells of spring and growth mixed with winter and blood; the dead and the living twining together, trees that reached up to the sky and roots that sank deep into the earth. The land slid from beneath my feet as I found myself staring at a massive ash tree. The stag backed away from me and bounded into the distance as I watched him go.

  PART TWO

  THE HUNTRESS

  9

  PANIC

  THE DREAM FROM last night still haunted me as we trudged along the trail of the stag. The parched air of the Fire Bog soon turned into the cool, sharp air of the mountains. Ice glittered in the sunlight, hanging off trees, growing on rocks, and even shooting up straight from the ground. The only sound was the wind whistling between the mountain passes. No one said it out loud, but we all had the same thing in mind. With the stag’s trail so thick before us, it would only be a matter of time before we ran into another hunting party. One that was alive.

  My mouth tasted like ash. The dream was so real; almost as if my family was trying to remind me who I was and warn me about what I would become. But the stag’s appearance only made Soren’s words the other night replay over and over in my head. Shame ate at my insides as I remembered waking up with my head pressed against Soren’s chest. Even after the terrifying dream, his presence lulled me into a sense of safety. And that can’t happen. I can’t get attached. I’ve spent too long fighting to accept it now. But I hadn’t left when given the chance either.

  I closed my eyes, allowing Panic to steer me. The horse was smart enough not to get caught in a trap.

  “You shouldn’t think about it so much.” My shoulders tensed at the sound of Soren’s voice.

  “How do you always know what I’m thinking about?”

  His lips quirked. “You get this look on your face whenever you’re worrying over something. It’s almost too hard not to notice. Also, because I know how you work. You really need to loosen up.”

  “Loosen up?” Acid dripped from my tone. “I am loosened up.”

  All he did was raise an eyebrow.

  “Shut up.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Look, I just don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  Soren shook his head, his long, unbound white hair rippling like a wave. “It’s a tough thing to realize, isn’t it? I don’t envy you.”

  “I haven’t realized anything.” I wish I believed those words as strongly as I said them. But roots had begun to dig deep into this world, into Soren, and I wasn’t sure that severing them was worth the pain. I peered at Soren again. His hair was whiter than the pristine snow coating the ground, brushing skin so pale it was almost translucent with a blue-gray tinge, and even his thick hunting furs did nothing to hide the strong build of his body. His long, delicate fingers clutched at his horse’s reins, easily navigating the treacherous mountain path. There was a sharpness in his purple eyes as he gazed up into the sky. That body shielded me from the cold, those hands kept me from hurting
myself, those eyes burned with fury at the sight of me in danger. Something strange stirred in my chest, and I turned away.

  “You know what the best thing about being a goblin is?” Soren asked. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Not being able to create due to the power the Permafrost gives us isn’t the only restriction. You can’t lie either. You’ll hear it, like a ringing in your ears.”

  “How is that a good thing?” I asked, thankful there was at least a change of topic.

  “It’s not just others,” he said. “You can’t lie to yourself either.”

  “I’m not lying to myself about anything.”

  He gave me a soft, sad look. “Liar.”

  I turned my body away from him. Hunger gnawed my insides, and I thought back to the last time I’d had any real food and wished that I’d eaten some of the rabbit when I had had the chance. In the Erlking’s palace I had drunk a goblet of nectar, but that wouldn’t keep me going forever, and the effects were wearing off rapidly after the race through the Fire Bog. I needed real food and I needed it soon. Permafrost or not, I needed to eat like every other being. I eyed the saddlebag on Soren’s horse. It was soaked red with blood from the fox they’d caught earlier. The goblins ripped into the animal raw and were carrying the still-edible remains.

  “You can have it if you want.” Soren followed my gaze. “You’ll have to eat something sooner or later.”

  “I’d rather eat toadstools,” I retorted.

  Soren gave me a look. “Suit yourself.”

  From ahead, Elvira halted her snow cat and whipped around. “Be quiet. We’re in enemy territory, I can smell them, and with all the bantering you two are doing, they can probably do more than smell us. Honestly, Soren, I expected this type of amateur thing from her, but you’re just a disappointment.”

  My muscles clenched as I tasted the air. Yes, she was right. Definitely goblin stench, but from whom, I couldn’t tell. Goblins didn’t make prey lines, but even so, I cast my eyes to the ground, hoping to find something that could help us. Instead, there was the same mess of green and blue that blended into the icy pathways and the harsh whiteness of the sun glinting off the mountain rocks.

  Soren gave an easy smile. “We can handle anything.”

  Elvira huffed. “Maybe. For now Rekke can ride by you and Janneke by me.”

  Rekke’s eyes widened and a blush crept up her cheeks. To make it worse, Soren winked at the young goblin. Dear gods above, I can’t take this.

  “Don’t encourage her,” I said, underneath a cough.

  Soren gave me a wicked smile. “I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  I nudged Panic forward toward Elvira and her snow cat. The young stallion whinnied nervously at the sight of the animal’s sharp fangs. I ran a hand through his mane. I hadn’t forgotten they tried to kill us either. The snow cat bared his teeth at us, and Panic struggled to keep his footing. I won’t let him hurt you. Even the telepathic link couldn’t calm the horse’s frantic nerves.

  “He doesn’t like you,” Elvira said with a toss of her raven-black hair.

  “I wonder why,” I said drily.

  “You do?” She narrowed her brow in confusion.

  I sighed. She was even worse than Soren. One hundred years later, it was surprising I could even joke at all at this point. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I am.”

  It wasn’t what she said that froze my blood, it was how she said it. So simple and emotionless. She could’ve been ordering lunch.

  I wasn’t about to let her see me shake. I gripped Panic’s reins hard and narrowed my eyes. “I have to warn you, I’m notoriously hard to kill.”

  “I’ve heard.” She snorted. “Lydian proved that when he tore into you.”

  Heat flashed across my body, lingering on the scar tissue of my chest. It was almost as if his crazed rambling carried on the wind. Why won’t you listen to me? Don’t you know what’s coming? Don’t you get it? What’s so special about you? I wish I could kill you. Invisible ants crawled across my skin as I was brought back to when he’d forced himself on me night after night.

  Elvira grinned, knowing she’d hit a nerve.

  I shook the pain from my mind before it could take root. “He will also never walk or use his left arm the same way again.”

  “You even being in the presence of someone like me and Soren is an insult,” she spat.

  “Soren doesn’t think so,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “Soren should’ve killed you the moment your filthy hand grabbed his robes. Instead, he treats you like a pet. Tell me, do you sleep at the foot of his bed or do you curl around his naked body?” She glared back to where he rode with her niece, the two of them engaged in a conversation that looked a lot less dire than ours. Rekke was practically glowing with happiness, and Soren’s small grin was enough to show that even he couldn’t resist the young goblin’s enthusiasm. Elvira curled her lip as she watched them.

  My eyes widened, finally realizing what Soren meant when he said I “threatened” Elvira. It wasn’t about power or skill. No, this was personal. From the way she ate him up with her eyes and the almost palpable hostility rising from her, there was no mistaking it.

  “Why do you want to know? So you can wish it were you? That is why you hate me, isn’t it? You’re in love with Soren.” The entire thought was completely disgusting.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you,” she hissed.

  “Jealous?” I taunted. “You know as well as I do that Soren would never lower himself to someone like you.”

  Her eyes widened, anger burning in them, but her objection fell away as the mountain pathways opened before us. The sheer walls dropped from every side, glittering from the cold tundra sun. The paths widened and spiraled high above us like icy vines crisscrossing the sky. I bit my lip, the hair on the back of my neck rising at the exposure. We were sitting ducks if anything went wrong. Whatever Elvira thought about Soren and myself, she wasn’t lying when she predicted company was coming.

  There were so many places to hide and jump from, and all around were loose bits of rock that gave way under the slightest pressure. The paths were slicked with ice; one wrong move would send us plummeting down into the chasm below.

  A high-pitched whistle broke the eerie silence and echoed across the canyon, bouncing off the walls until it surrounded us from all sides. Almost immediately I had my bow in hand, an arrow notched. The whistle came again, so high that blood dripped from my ears and the ice hanging above us shattered, coming down in shards like rain.

  “Get ready,” I said through gritted teeth to Elvira, throwing a glance behind me to make sure Soren was prepared. He was.

  Arrows rained down from the sky.

  I kicked Panic into a hard gallop, running him across the sheer edges of the icy pathways. My vision blurred at the stream of arrows streaking toward us. There were so many the air was thick with them and I was forced to dodge as I rode. Even so, multiple arrows nicked my skin. I quieted my heart and urged Panic onward down the slippery slope despite the hesitation that filled his every limb.

  The pathway twisted into two forks, and I took the one leading to higher ground. Soren, right on my tail, nodded toward me and took the other. I unhooked one foot from its stirrup and propped it against the saddle, paying no mind to the vicious rocking back and forth or the shower of rock and ice above me. My eyes scanned the horizon, and a flash of bronze caught my gaze. I shot.

  A goblin fell out of the sky, tumbling down to the path I raced on. His power slammed into my body, but the stinging as it sank into my skin was nothing compared to the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Below, Rekke had her twin daggers out, hugging her body tight to the saddle as she slashed at the two goblins who came up beside her, her moves as graceful as a dance. I brought another arrow into my bow, shooting one of the goblins attacking her and watching with satisfaction as he fell.

  Another goblin burs
t from his crevice, a battle cry on his lips. Panic swerved to avoid the blows, and I dug my heel into his side, turning him before he toppled over the mountainside. The goblin raced after us, his speed turning his body into a blur.

  “Too cowardly to come out and fight face-to-face?” I taunted, my lips pulled back to bare my teeth. “Is an ambush all you can do? How long did you lay in wait for someone to stumble across your path?”

  I didn’t wait for an answer, instead freeing my feet and letting go of Panic’s reins. I hooked my bow and quiver across my shoulders and slid down the saddle until I was level with the goblin, taking a swing with my axe. His eyes were black in his gaunt, hollow face, and his features were sharp and wolf-like. Gone was any unearthly beauty he may have possessed—this was the face of a killer. He howled in pain as I hit his side and fear spread through me like cold water as the goblin sprang onto Panic’s back and grappled with me for the reins.

  “Who’s a coward?” he snarled.

  Panic’s sides heaved, and he slammed his body against the cliff face. Good boy, I thought. Get him off your back.

  The goblin swung at me with a blade that I barely had time to deflect. He pressed down on me, using his weight against mine. The ground beneath Panic’s feet came closer and closer to my head.

  Wincing in pain as my shoulders brushed against the rocks, I grabbed Panic’s cinch and braced myself. The goblin let go, and my legs hit the path with searing pain as Panic dragged me along with him. Grunting with effort, I hooked my legs into the cinch and began to inch my way back up to the saddle.

  My axe fell somewhere down the cliffside, and though my bow and arrows were firmly attached to my back, there was no way to reach them. With gritted teeth, I fumbled with the straps on my bracer and pulled out the bent, iron nail.

  Before the nail had merely stung. Now it blazed with a type of pain I didn’t know existed. Blood trickled in my mouth as I bit down hard on my cheek to keep from screaming. But if it was this bad for me—someone who wasn’t even a full goblin—it would be Hel for my attacker. With the last of my strength, I swung upward and plunged the nail into his throat. His eyes grew wide and his long-nailed fingers clutched at his throat, scratching until rivulets of blood ran down his collarbone. The skin grew black and putrefied, flaking off to expose the muscles and veins underneath. I kicked him off Panic, watching as he fell a thousand feet below. I curled my lips at the smell of burning flesh as I shoved the nail back into the bracer. Dark-red marks covered my fingertips.