White Stag

by Kara Barbieri

  From behind us, Seppo was pretending to heave. “Ugh. If I wanted to see a blossoming relationship, I’d have stuck to my mother.”

  Heat crawled up my neck.

  “Seppo,” Soren said, “I hardly ever agree with my uncle, so take this as the special occasion that it is. You talk too much. And you’re beginning to annoy me.”

  Seppo’s eyes widened at the dangerous tone Soren’s voice had taken, and he nodded vigorously. Then, because the man couldn’t seem to help being obnoxious, he pantomimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

  “If I don’t kill him because he’s working for Lydian, I’m going to kill him because he’s a pain in the ass,” I muttered under my breath.

  Soren’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. Then he stopped sharply, good arm out to block us from going farther. I peered over his shoulder, and my eyes widened in awe.

  The salty water fell from a waterfall overhead, the current swift as it spiraled down and down into a whirlpool. The water was as black as night, moving at a pace that could sweep even the strongest swimmer away. I was a good swimmer, but this?

  It doesn’t matter. You need to save Soren. And this is how you’ll do it. I swallowed. I could do this. I hope.

  “Do you know where the lair would be?” Soren asked.

  “There’s got to be an underwater cove somewhere,” Seppo said.

  I unhooked the bow and quiver from my back, but kept the stiletto at my side, just in case. Then I narrowed my eyes at Seppo. “You better be right; if you’re not, I’ll kill you.”

  “I am right,” he said. “I know I am.”

  Discreetly, I turned and whispered in Soren’s ear, “If it came to it, you could take him, right?”

  He snorted with contempt. “A half goblin? I’d have to be an inch from death not to take him.”

  I stepped forward onto the cold, slippery rock.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I said, and dove in.

  The coldness of the water shocked me, and I barely had a chance to recover before the rapid current swept me forward. I took a breath, forcing as much air into my lungs as I could, and dove deep. Despite the salt in the water, I opened my eyes to watch the dark currents spiral down. With a powerful kick, I pushed my body into one of the faster currents, riding it down to the bottom. My eyes blurred at the speed, and behind my ears the pressure built up until I was sure my brain would explode. There had to be an entrance somewhere.

  The steady burning in my chest reminded me of my ever-dwindling supply of oxygen, but I’d held my breath for seven minutes in my prime. Even now, with my body begging for air, I was sure I could go for at least five.

  I spotted the hole and propelled myself to it. The current pulled at me again, its ever-seeking fingers grasping at my clothes. I should’ve taken them off, never mind the embarrassment, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

  I fought as the current tried to pull me back into the vortex, dragging myself from rocky outcrop to rocky outcrop. My muscles burned with exhaustion, my lungs burst into flames. Fighting a flow this strong was using up all my extra air. As my head grew light, I made a final thrust into the hole.

  Inside the small hole, the water was calmer, lapping back and forth in gentle waves. My muscles relaxed as the calm water became clear, and as black spots edged my vision, the tunnel shot upward, then to the right, and my head burst from the water into the sweet, cold air. I sucked up as much as I could, gasping until I caught my breath. Then I pulled myself forward, up onto the stones where the water lapped gently.

  A few feet before me the loose stones changed into hard ground. Above me, the ceiling glittered with crystals in an array of blues and purples and reds. I followed the stone, hearing the sound of a violin playing ever-so-sweetly.

  I paused, listening in shock. Music wasn’t really a thing in the Permafrost. I was sure some goblins enjoyed it, but they would be quiet about it. It was not something anyone would dare partake in by choice—or at least that was the illusion. I was beginning to learn not everything was so black and white. Back before I was taken, I’d loved music. My father would strum his guitar, and I’d sing the beautiful songs my mother taught me about fair maidens and dazzling heroes. That was a long time ago though, and I didn’t know the words anymore. It didn’t matter; it wasn’t like they were true.

  The hypnotic sound wrapped around me in a warm embrace, inviting me forward to stay forever and listen to the sweetness. The chords changed, managing to be sweet and melancholy and somber all at once. They seized my heart and brought it a-flight. The crystals twinkled with the music, and the world danced around me, blissful and beautiful.

  I stopped suddenly, hand on my stiletto, and drew a quick slice across the tip of my finger. As the blood welled in the cut, the spell broke. The music was still beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but it no longer enthralled me. The crystals disappeared into dark stone formations colored red as blood.

  The nøkken loved a fisherman’s daughter who lived by his lake. The fisherman was poor and bad at his trade until the nøkken made an offer. Never would the fisherman want for anything, if he gave him his daughter when she turned eighteen. When the woman was brought down to the lake to meet her husband, she cringed at his scales and webbed fingers. Thrusting a knife in her chest, she cried she’d never love a monster as she died. The blood poured into the water, and the nøkken in his sorrow let the flowers in the lake turn red. He played his song every night, one of love and loss and mourning, in hopes that one day another would come down to the water and be with him forever.

  I shuddered, casting my gaze across the cave. In the shadows was the figure of a man, and in the corners, lying in beds of flowers with seaweed in their hair, were the bodies of women who had come down to the water. All of them were perfectly preserved, even though time should’ve turned them to dust.

  The figure moved, and I gripped my blade, ready to strike. But as the nøkken came out from the shadows, I found myself lowering my weapon. His clothes, once beautiful and elaborate, were ripped to shreds, his long coat tattered and frayed. He watched me silently, gazing with sad eyes the color of pond scum. His skin was mottled green and black. He brought his violin to his side as he came forward, slowly, carefully, as if the slightest movement would scare me away.

  “You have heard my song?” he asked, his voice low and mournful, with a slight pinch of hope mixed in.

  “It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “But not why I came.” I had to word the next part carefully, as not to offend this powerful creature with sadness in his eyes. “I come to ask for a favor, and in return, I will give one to you.”

  The nøkken sighed, and lines of sadness creased his face as he looked back at the bodies of his loves, then at me. “You’ve felt sadness too,” he whispered. “Ours would not be a happy love.”

  I doubted many of his loves were happy, but I wasn’t about to say so.

  “I need your help,” I said. “Something only you can do.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Pray tell, but if I can do it, there will be a price. There always is a price. I keep my word, but you must keep yours. She did not, but I always did.” He caressed the flowerlike stones surrounding us. “They’ve turned to stone, it was so long ago, but my heart, it aches as if it were just this morn.”

  “I’ll keep my word,” I said, swallowing at the thought of what this creature might want me to do. “But you need to help me.”

  “What do you wish for?” he asked.

  “My … someone I care about, deeply, has been poisoned by lindworm venom. He doesn’t have long left. I need an antidote; I need to save him.” The desperation in my voice was palpable. Just a few decades ago I’d have been glad to see Soren burn. Out of pettiness if nothing else. Now I was begging deadly magical strangers for help to keep him alive. What a change.

  The nøkken nodded. “He is not human, like you, is he? If he was, he’d be dead already.”

  I bit my lip. “He is goblin.”

&
nbsp; The hint of a sad, sad smile played on the nøkken’s lips. “Then I suppose I am not the only one with unlucky loves. I will help you for a price.”

  “What is it?” I braced myself; whatever it was, I could do it.

  “You have such sadness in your eyes, child,” he mused. “Sing me a song to play in the caverns. Maybe it will give me luck.”

  I blinked, taken aback. A song? He wanted me to sing a song?

  “I—I can’t do that,” I stuttered. “I’m not, I don’t have any material or ideas or—”

  The nøkken chuckled softly. “Oh, I think you do. That is my price, a song from your heart. That or your love dies and maybe you can stay here with me.”

  14

  NEEDLESS/WANTLESS

  I SEETHED WITH rage. Sing him a song? Anything remotely songlike was ripped from my lips the moment my village turned to ash. No lullaby, hunting tune, or ballad survived the destruction. Sing him a song. He might as well have asked me to lasso a star.

  Maybe I could try to reason with him. Or maybe you’ll be stuck for centuries and Soren will die.

  “I don’t know any songs,” I said again, more forcefully this time. “So, I can’t sing something for you. Is there anything else?”

  The nøkken laughed a cruel, bitter laugh. “You’ve no songs? You have plenty. All there in your head. Do you think the pain you feel is meant to be stuck inside of you, never released? No. That’s why the Aesir and Vanir granted us music and the wonderfulness of words. You have a song, sweet child, but if you can’t find it, there’s nothing I can do. Your boy will die, and letting you go … I don’t think I like that idea.”

  My fingers tightened around the stiletto. “Okay,” I said. “Okay. Just give me a minute to think.”

  “A minute, an hour, a millennium,” he mused, “it’s all the same to me.”

  I shivered at his tone. I’d been around insane beings enough to know their danger. Whether it was the lost lovers and endless solitude of the nøkken or whatever sickness in the head plagued Lydian, I needed to be really careful. One wrong move …

  A sliver of fear found its way to my heart. I could’ve been like this if I were a normal human. If I’d survived this long, if Lydian’s torture had gotten to me, I could’ve been exactly like this. I shook the thought away, focusing back on the issue at hand.

  A song. I didn’t even know whether I had a decent voice, much less if there was a song somewhere deep in my heart. Get your head straight, Janneke. If you don’t do this, Soren dies. I’d lived through the raid of my family, the torture from Lydian, the endless battles of the Hunt, I could sing a fucking song.

  “All right.” I breathed in deeply. “Give me a moment. I just need some inspiration.”

  The nøkken bared his rows of sharp teeth in a smile. I shuddered; the multiple rows pressed down one behind another like sharks’. I pitied the dead women on the ground who were forced to kiss that mouth.

  “I can help with that.” He held out a hand. His skin was warm and slimy, like the mud and mossy mixture of a swamp, but his grip was strong. He bent down, sharp teeth still out, and pricked my hand. I jerked back as a small trail of blood dripped from the heel of my palm.

  “What did you do?”

  “I have given you inspiration.”

  The blood had already stopped flowing, but a sharp wave of vertigo hit and I stumbled forward. Up and down, left and right mixed together until the world twisted around like a kaleidoscope.

  Are you dead? I knew that voice. That voice made me shudder, scream, and cry. It’d taken everything away from me. You’re not supposed to die yet. I need to know first! I need to know! I blinked rapidly, haunted by the images flashing across my eyes. Dragged by a horse. Tormented every night. Are you dead yet, little girl? Are you dead? No? Good. Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.

  Pain blossomed inside my breast, powerful enough for me to double over, clutching my stomach. The breath escaped my lungs in quick spurts as fear and pain and memories I’d long tried to forget spun a weave inside my head.

  “Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Why don’t you close your eyes?

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Tonight

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Are you an angel in flight?

  Or are you lost in your body?

  Lost in the world?”

  It was a thick blanket smothering me: Helka’s power, the young lordling’s, Elvira’s and the lindworm’s, Panic’s death and Rekke’s, it threatened to choke the life out of me and leave me lifeless on the floor.

  “It slowly takes and captivates

  And wraps around our skin

  The curtains that we hide behind

  Cradle us in our sin

  The night is dark

  The world is cruel

  And the stars are all on fire

  But that little girl

  That little girl

  Her one and only desire”

  My throat was on fire. The words had always been there. A bloody hand grabbing a new lord’s cloak, darkness lining my vision and the hope that it would never lift, coldness inside my chest when I passed by the betrayed looks from the dead who considered me a blood traitor in my dreams; all I longed to forget now bubbling to the surface.

  “Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Wear your heart on your sleeve

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  You’re not supposed to grieve

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Why does your skin feel so numb?

  Little girl

  Little girl

  What have you done?”

  The river water was cold against the agony of my burns, and the lies and secrets swirled around, battering my body. Hunger gnawed inside me, so fierce I couldn’t ignore it. But the hunger was for more than food; it was for blood and pain, desire and revenge.

  “The world it shatters like raining glass

  Veils eyes, thoughts, and minds

  Our daily bread is all we ask

  But it is too much to find

  Your heart is weak

  My breath is stone

  And we weave a web of lies

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  You’re not supposed to cry.”

  Strength poured from my once-quivering voice as I straightened to look the nøkken in the eye. His glee-filled gaze at the pain coming from my lips made my stomach churn in disgust. His shrewd, calculating nature made me naked before him.

  But he wouldn’t have me. No one would. Not unless I wanted it. No hands would roam where I forbade them, no lips or teeth would press against my flesh unless it was my wish. I was my own. The dregs of pain and fear I’d long buried bubbled to the surface, but I stood strong against their blows.

  “Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Have they ravaged your skin?

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Have the demons come in?

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Like a lamb in the field?

  Little girl

  Oh little girl

  Your soul won’t be healed.”

  I was alive and breathing and fighting with every step I took. The mocking voice asking me over and over inside my head why my heart still went on was nothing more than the blood rushing in my ears. My voice rose with anger as I spat out the words in revulsion.

  “Are you lost?

  Little girl

  Are you scared?

  Little girl

  Are you weak?

  Little girl

  Are you angry?

  Little girl

  Are you sad?

  Little girl

  Are you numb?

  Little girl

  Are you there?

  Little girl

  Are you there?

  Little gir
l

  Are you there?

  Little girl?”

  My father’s blood drenched my hands as a million pairs of eyes judged me, the daughter who chose the future over her past. But the shame that washed over me was nothing compared to the rage burning me up. We are all monsters even if we choose not to believe it. And the worst type were those who didn’t understand that. I was not a blood traitor for surviving and thriving. I was not damaged or broken or twisted beyond repair. No dead, mocking voices could tell me otherwise.

  “We fall on our knees for you, sweet little child

  We would die and appease for your sweet darling smile

  But we don’t have a need for you

  We don’t have a part

  So go out in the wild

  Let the wolves eat your heart.”

  I breathed out, the anger gone from my voice, and once more I whispered.

  “Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Are you dead?

  Little girl

  Why are your eyes still open?”

  I shuddered at the last words but kept my gaze on the creature before me. “There is your song. Now give me what I need to heal Soren.”

  The nøkken slowly nodded; I could almost see the thoughts stirring inside his head. “You do have a story, don’t you?” A slow smile spread across his face. “I can feel it like your own heart beating.”

  I scowled. The remains of my past still whirred through my adrenaline-addled brain. I pushed them far away, locking them back in the place they belonged. The past is the past. I was alive. My eyes would always be open, watching every creature’s every move. I would withstand whatever life threw at me. I was as sure of it as I was the breath in my body.

  “I want what we bargained for,” I demanded.

  The creature smiled sadly. “And you will get it.”

  The calculating look in his eyes made my shoulders itch with discomfort. “All right, then,” I said. “Let’s have it.”

  The nøkken ambled his way across the cave like there wasn’t a goblin a hundred feet above him dying of lindworm venom. He paused by the stone flowers and spoke to them as if they were people. One of his scaly hands brushed against the water lily–adorned hair of a dead girl.