“Any defining features at all?”
“They’re always little. A couple of feet high, if that — you’d mistake them for children in the dark, or if you weren’t paying attention. Fatal mistake, for some. Once you get up close, you see your mistake. They’re predators, so they’ve nasty sharp little teeth in their mouths. Ugly faces, usually, beady little eyes… depending on the tribe, some have fur, some have scales, some have flesh. Their main defining feature is their cruelty.”
“All of them?”
“Aye,” he said sharply. “All of them.”
“Are there any Seelie goblins?”
“None that I’ve met,” he said darkly. “I don’t think they have the capacity for kindness or honor in their twisted little hearts.”
Nancy hesitated. She was still raw from discovering the bones, and she could sense Malcolm’s grief and anger at what had happened, so this was probably a bad time for a conversation like this… but some part of her baulked hard at the idea that an entire species of creatures was destined to be evil. Surely there had to be goblins that didn’t murder and steal — in the same way that there were plenty of humans that did awful things, which didn’t necessarily indicate that every human was evil. She wanted to bring this up — but a look at Malcolm’s face made her hesitate.
Still… “Is it possible to… win them over? Do Fae ever change courts?”
He looked sharply sideways at her, annoyance warring with curiosity on his face. It was clearly something he hadn’t given much thought to. “Change courts. Honestly, I can’t say I know for sure. Most of the Unseelie I’ve encountered are dumb creatures, too dumb to know much about what they’re doing at all, let alone make decisions about it. Goblins are intelligent, that’s for sure… I suppose it’s theoretically possible for them to choose a better path. But I’ve never heard of it,” he said.
Nancy almost pointed out that he’d also said he hadn’t had many encounters with goblins… just a few Redcaps, who by all accounts weren’t even the only species of goblin. How could he know for certain that they were all irredeemably evil? But she didn’t want to push the issue. Not when the death of Harold the fisherman was still so raw. Still, she decided she’d talk to Maggie about the possibility of a goblin changing sides or turning good. Perhaps the group were stealing out of desperation… perhaps an alliance could be struck. It was a far-fetched thought, she knew, but they were running so quickly out of options that she had to give diplomacy at least some consideration.
They rode home in silence, a shadow hanging over Malcolm’s handsome face. Nancy looked at him sideways occasionally, regretting his sorrow and unable to do a thing to help him. How on Earth were they going to deal with this? How were they going to tell the village that not only their food, but their very lives were in danger now? The stakes were getting higher, and they still had so little information to go on about their foe.
It was tough. But Nancy decided as the horses headed up the road toward the Sept, she would be tougher.
Chapter 37
Brendan was still on the wall as they rode in — he must have been on guard all day, Nancy thought to herself, giving the guard Captain a wave as they rode in. There was a look of worry on his dark-featured face, and he looked at Malcolm, then at her, with a curious expression. She shrugged, waving a hand in a ‘talk later’ gesture. He’ll find out soon enough, she thought grimly. The men were already so exhausted… this news would definitely be a blow to morale. Finding out that despite all their hard work, a man had been killed by the goblins they were trying to defend the locals from? It was going to be bad. Still, the people of the Sept are tough, she counseled herself. For all she knew, this news would be just what they needed to really knuckle down and get the problem sorted.
They rode to the stables, hopping off their steeds and untacking them quickly — it seemed there was a change of shifts with the stable staff, and nobody was around to take their horses. Nancy didn’t mind… she’d come to enjoy the work of untacking a horse. Something soothing about it. And it felt good, to thank the creature who’d carried her so far, who’d made the important work they did that day possible… even if the news was bad. She stroked the mare’s neck appreciatively as she led her into a stall and dumped half a pail of oats into her bucket for her to eat.
“Good girl,” she murmured, lingering by the horse’s stall.
When she looked up, Malcolm was watching her… it was heartening to see a smile on his face, a soft, tender smile that he immediately hid when she caught him looking at her. That is interesting, she thought with a secret grin. It seemed she still had the power to cheer him up, even in the midst of tragedy.
They walked into the castle together, Malcolm speaking in a low voice. This news, he was saying, couldn’t wait until the next night’s scheduled meeting with the townsfolk and Father Caleb — they needed to tell Donal now, so he could react to the news and start planning for how to deal with it.
“He isn’t great under pressure,” Malcolm said with a grin. “Well — he is excellent under the pressure of battle, but when it comes to matters of diplomacy, the fewer surprises the better. He tends to let his temper run away with him — better to let that happen now rather than in the midst of the meeting, when he still has the good favor of the villagers to worry about.”
Donal was in the dining hall, flipping irritably through an enormous book — and there were half a dozen more sitting beside him on the table. There was a plate of what looked like pastries by his other side, and he was frowning down at the page as though it had personally offended him. When Malcolm and Nancy came in, he looked up with acute relief, as though they’d personally been sent to save him from hell itself.
“Thank God for you two,” Donal said with a grin, slamming the book shut. “I’m trying to go through all our old records to see if the past has any hints on how to deal with this nonsense. Thought there might be something the scholars missed, but I forgot how utterly detailed all my predecessors felt they needed to be. Records of food and ale supplies for hundreds of years. Who on Earth felt that that was necessary to preserve for all time?”
“Sorry you’ve had an afternoon of it,” Malcolm said quietly, “but I’m afraid we don’t bring good news.”
“Right. The mission to find the fisherman.” Donal sat up straight, the book forgotten, his sharp eyes on Malcolm’s face. “You didn’t find him?”
“Aye, we did,” Malcolm said softly. “What remained of him.”
Donal took the news like a blow, reeling a little and staring into the middle distance. “Dead.”
“Aye. Very.”
“Could you tell what caused it?”
“We found not much more than bones by the side of the road,” Malcolm explained, his voice full of quiet anger. “The bones had been chewed by sharp teeth. Donal — it’s goblins.”
“Goblins,” the man repeated, his eyes widening. “That’s just what we need.” He took a deep breath. “Explains a lot, though. The intelligence they show in avoiding our patrols, they’re operating only at night, the Monster not being able to catch them all… they’re good swimmers, and they usually move in packs. She probably tried to get them all, but they ran distraction tactics and the like. Perhaps some of the aquatic tribes came through. For all we know, they’re still out there in the Loch.” Donal stared down at the book in his hands. “I’d best do some research on goblins. Best to know what type we’re dealing with, so we know how best to kill the little bastards.”
“I could do that,” Nancy broke in, looking at both men hopefully. “The research, I mean. You two are both exhausted from patrolling the village, and it seems like those patrols are more important than ever if these creatures have started… killing and eating people.” She shuddered. It was a horrible thought — walking through the dark woods, thinking you’re heading home, before being suddenly accosted and killed by a pack of nattering little creatures. She remembered the high, chattering voices she’d heard echoing over the Loch the othe
r night, the night the Monster had fought off some of the attackers, and shivered.
“Probably best if me or one of the men handles it, Nancy, but thank you,” Donal said dismissively — then covered his mouth as a huge yawn rocked him.
Nancy furrowed her brow. “Why’s that, then? I know as much about this current band of attackers as anyone — I’ve been with Malcolm every step of the way, visited the village, talked to the victims, looked at the mess they’ve caused. I know what I’m looking for.”
“Goblins are dangerous,” Donal said flatly. “I’d be concerned about you getting ideas and sneaking off to investigate. Getting yourself killed.”
“I’m not that stupid,” she objected, her voice rising despite her determination to remain calm. She could see why Anna got so frustrated with Donal — he had a way of speaking as though his was the best and only position on the matter. He was a good man, but a stubborn one… and he clearly had some irritating misconceptions about women. Anna said he’d gotten a lot better since she’d moved in… Nancy shuddered to think what he must have been like before he’d met her. Still, he was young. Plenty of time to change.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Malcolm said beside her, unexpectedly. “Let her look at the books and talk to the scholars, at least. Knowledge is power at this point, and she’s right. You and I are both far too exhausted to try to balance research with patrolling.”
“And it’s not like I can lighten that load,” she said irritably. “I’m rubbish with a sword. Getting better,” she added, not wanting to sell herself short. “But I’ve only been training for a week. Not exactly ready to fight a horde of goblins single-handed.”
“I hope it’s not a horde,” Donal muttered to himself. But he’d clearly taken what Malcolm had said onboard, and he waved one hand dismissively. “Fine, fine. But keep to the Sept, alright? I’m going to put a strict curfew in place on the people of the castle. Absolutely no travel after dark.”
“Village and outlying areas would be wise, too. If we can avoid more tragedies like the one we discovered today…” Malcolm shrugged.
“I’ve no power to give the villagers orders, unfortunately,” Donal said with a sigh. “But I’ll strongly advise it at the meeting tomorrow. If these creatures have graduated to making attacks on people, it’s only a matter of time until they get bold enough to come at us in our homes. I wish we had more men,” he added, rubbing his face tiredly. “If I could increase the patrols and increase the guard on our wall, I would.”
“Well, maybe the Fae could help you out with some time travel,” Nancy joked, and Malcolm and Donal both chuckled. It felt good to make them laugh — it indicated that not all hope was lost, at least. An idea occurred to her, and she hesitated before she spoke.
“What if I — went diving? We’re in trouble if more goblins get through, right?”
“Aye, we are, but —”
“And the Monster has been telling Maggie for weeks that there’s something wrong with the burgh. Is it possible the goblins did something to it? I could go down and check it out, maybe figure out why so many goblins got through before the Monster could notice them, find out why it’s so bothered about the burgh —”
“Too dangerous,” Donal said flatly. “I appreciate the offer, Nancy, and Malcolm’s right that you’d be a great help in doing goblin research, but I’m afraid it’s too dangerous to go swimming.”
“But —”
“He’s right, Nancy,” Malcolm said flatly, and she wheeled on him, shocked at this seeming betrayal. “You said it yourself — the Monster’s upset enough already without adding to its stress. It might harm you in its confusion.”
“She wouldn’t hurt me,” Nancy said fiercely, stressing the pronoun. “She’d know I was trying to help —”
“Besides that, we have no idea what kind of goblins we’re dealing with. It could be an aquatic tribe that retreats to the waters of the Loch during the day. You could find yourself surrounded by goblins down there at the bottom of the Loch, with nobody to help you fight them off.”
“I’ll take a sword,” she said helplessly, knowing already that that line of argument was futile.
“No,” Donal said flatly. “Maybe another time, when things have settled down with the goblins and the Monster is less upset, but for now… it’s too dangerous.”
“We can’t risk you,” Malcolm said softly, trying to calm her down — but the anger in her chest was blazing too high and hot to allow for any comforting.
She gritted her teeth, gave Donal a stiff little nod, and turned on her heel, striding angrily out of the Hall. The one thing she could do — the one skill she had, in this time where she knew less about the world than literally everyone she met — her one area of expertise, and it was too dangerous to let her use it. And what was worse — Malcolm had agreed with him! Taken his side! It felt like a betrayal, and she stormed up the spiral stairs to collapse on her bed, stewing in anger.
She knew rationally that it wasn’t fair to blame Malcolm for this — that there was plenty of wisdom in what he’d said. The idea of being attacked by goblins underwater was deeply frightening. But still… he hadn’t backed her up. Somehow, she’d expected more than that, from him. Was this going to cool her feelings for him?
A few minutes later, when her anger had eased off, she heaved a sigh. No — no, she still had a huge crush on him. Shame about that. It might have been easier to get things done if she could use her frustration as a way of maintaining focus on the work at hand, not the handsome Malcolm.
Oh, well. She supposed she’d need to find another way of easing her infatuation… like giving in to it.
Chapter 38
She spent the rest of the day in her room. Though she’d missed lunch, she didn’t feel hungry… some combination of the tragic morning they’d had and the frustration at Donal that still seethed in her had well and truly curbed her appetite. She took the opportunity to nap, dozing off in the late afternoon sun that trickled through her window, and by the time she’d awoken, she was feeling a lot fresher and a lot less annoyed. She hadn’t been sleeping well, she realized, thinking back to her last few nights of sleep. Stress was a killer for that… and there were the dreams, too. Ever since she’d gotten here, she’d been plagued with dreams… either dreams about drowning in that cave that the Sidhe had snatched her up from, or dreams about goblins, loitering in the woods. Now she knew more about them, and that there were aquatic tribes, she’d probably find a way of combining both nightmares into some horrifying underwater goblin hunt. She wished, not for the first time, that she had more control over her dreams.
Mom had always set great store by dreams, she thought, rolling over in her bed as she woke up from her nap. The woman had had a huge book, bigger than the ones Donal had been poring over, that had descriptions and definitions for almost any symbol or thing that could appear in a dream. She was in the habit of looking at it every morning, thinking back to her own dreams of the night before and writing down what they meant in a journal she kept. Sometimes, Nancy would join her, rattling off her own wild, childlike dreams to be solemnly recorded and analyzed. Being chased meant that you were running away from something serious in your life… maybe avoiding confronting that bully at school, she’d say with a raised eyebrow. Falling meant you were feeling anxious and out of control… perhaps that math test you’ve been anxious about? There was always an interpretation that made sense, and Nancy had been fascinated by the science of it.
Later, her father had said that dreams were just random subconscious images — they didn’t mean anything. She often wondered, in her later years, whether that had to do with his military background. The trauma of combat could very well have given him some nasty nightmares… it might have been a defense mechanism, to dismiss them as being meaningless. Her father always had resisted coming to terms with his own feelings. They’d talked so little about his feelings about her mother’s death, though he’d always been there to listen and console her. She sighed, st
aring at the ceiling. Another thing she’d want to fix if she ever saw him again. She could have been there for him a lot more… but then again, she’d been a child when her mother died, barely fifteen years old. There was only so much she could expect from herself.
This was a sad path to go down. Feelings stirred up by finding the bones, perhaps, she thought with a frown. Maybe those bones would make an appearance in her dreams too. What would her mother have made of her recent recurring nightmares? She tried to think back to those pleasant mornings in the kitchen, looking up symbols. Drowning… her mother had dreamed of drowning once. She said it was linked to fear of being overwhelmed by emotion. What could that relate to? Her worry and fear for her father? Her blossoming feelings for Malcolm, perhaps? Or maybe (this was her father’s voice, gruff in the back of her head) she dreamed about drowning because drowning was frightening, she spent a lot of time worrying about drowning, and she’d quite literally nearly drowned a few months ago.
Nancy got out of bed, feeling ill at ease. Perhaps one of the witches or herbalists of the castle knew more about dreams… at any rate, it wasn’t a line of enquiry she had any time to pursue for the moment. There was important research to do. A part of her was worried that the more she learned about goblins, the more frightened she’d get… but that was par for the course. Knowledge was power, after all, and if she couldn’t add her rather paltry sword fighting skills to the mix, she’d absolutely do what she could on the research side.
It had been a while since she’d visited the scholars upstairs. She grabbed the book from her side table, the one they’d lent her earlier, figuring she may as well kill two birds with one stone and return it. It was an interesting tome about all the various Faerie sightings in history, but she’d already flipped through it and found it rather lacking on descriptions of goblins… though there were a few cases of people going missing that may have been attributed to a Redcap or similar.
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