by Shona Husk
The shadows growled and grew, expanding to consume the room. Eliza put her hand on the light switch to fight the darkness that had terrified her as a child. The bulbs blew before she could turn them on. She flattened her back to the door. Her hair lifted as the jangle of beads swept past her. She turned her head to follow the noise, then the darkness was gone.
Pale sunset splashed on the floral quilt. In the middle of the bed was a piece of paper. Eliza walked over and picked up the thick, cream paper edged in gold, never-ending Celtic knots. The invitation looked like wedding stationary. On the paper were three words in elegant gold scrawl.
Be my queen.
She dropped the paper but never saw it hit the floor. It vanished, taken by the shadow cast by the bed.
“I can’t.” The words were almost silent. She couldn’t live in the perpetual nightmare of the Shadowlands as queen. Yet she couldn’t live without seeing Roan. To see Roan she had to sleep.
She dressed with care, one ear listening for Steve, but her mind was already on Roan and the way he’d smiled at her in the sunlight. The beads in his hair shining. It was hard to believe he was a goblin with a heart of gold when he looked so human. Her lips curved as she settled into the guest bed. When she blinked, she opened her eyes in the Summerland.
The grass was an ocean of green, banked by trees. Exactly the same as last time, as every time she’d waited for him as a teenager. Try as she might Eliza couldn’t change the setting. Above her clouds hovered in the distance, like a bruise on the blue dream sky.
Roan appeared in front of her. Arms crossed. The grass cringed away from his touch.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” She smiled but didn’t get one back.
“I have to answer all summons. Even dream ones now.”
The bitterness in his voice held her in place. “I’m not summoning you. I’m just thinking of you.” Dreaming of him…except he was really here. “If this is just a dream, why can’t I change where we are?”
“This is the Summerland. Dreams start here—they don’t stay here.” Roan caught the end of a dreadlock and worked it through his fingers with his arms still folded. “Most people don’t know of this place. They pass through and move on to the dream.”
“But you know of it.” The white sundress swished around her knees. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, but the shorter hairstyle refused to be tamed and it flicked free again.
“Dreams and nightmares can’t exist without each other but can’t exist together. I shouldn’t be here.” He tossed the beads to his back in a melody that was all Roan’s. “You shouldn’t be here, waiting for me.”
Eliza stepped toward him, unable to resist. “But I want you here in my dream.”
“You have to stop calling me.” He watched with eyes bluer than the sky but less forgiving. The dry aching heat sucked at her soul.
Her tongue moistened her lip. “I call because you watch.”
His mouth quirked up on one side. “I watch because you call.”
“I needed to see you. To talk to you.” She felt like was seventeen again with her first boyfriend. No boyfriend had ever been able to match up to the man she’d imagined the Goblin King to be. “How about a picnic? Stay awhile with me.” A red and white checked rug and wicker basket appeared on the grass at their feet as soon as she’d thought it.
Roan looked at the spread of food, and then at Eliza. He shook his head yet sat. She sat next to him. Her pale legs stretched out next to his black-clad and booted ones as if they were enjoying a summer picnic. Next to him she felt safer than she had in a long time.
“I’m here as you desired. What did you want to talk about?” He leaned back in a pose that on another man would have passed for relaxation.
Her smile faltered. He was playing along for her, not because he wanted to. “I don’t mean to command you.”
“No?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Then what is it you want from me?”
She glanced at him under her lashes. What did she want? A friend? A protector? Her cheeks warmed under the sun. A lover? “I…I don’t know.”
Roan kissed her. His lips moved gently over her mouth. She yielded to his questing tongue and let herself be lowered to the picnic rug.
“You cut your hair.” He nuzzled against her neck.
“I wanted a change,” she said too fast, defending herself from the coming attack.
“And changed the color.” His hand traced around the neckline of her dress. “It suits you.”
He soothed her surprise with a kiss. Her nipple peaked as his fingers circled her breast. The dress gave her no protection, but with Roan she didn’t need any. Her back arched, pressing her body closer.
“You’re not wearing underwear.” His hand stilled and the cool of his palm seeped through the thin fabric. The sun haloed his head with dazzling pure light.
And Eliza knew why she’d called him, why she had to see him. The need for Roan burned in every cell of her body, cold and bright. “I want you.”
She’d wanted him for years.
He closed his eyes and groaned as if she’d stabbed him. “Then be my queen.”
Eliza cupped his face. “I don’t want to be queen in the Shadowlands. I just want you.”
Roan gazed at her for an eternity before moving. He shifted to lie over her, his weight stealing her breath. The kiss that followed was rough and hard like a warrior taking no prisoners. Eliza surrendered to his touch. Then the world turned black, became airless, and spun.
She gasped and found herself on the spare bed in her house. The room glowed yellow with an unnatural light that left no shadows to hide the goblin that knelt over her, trapping her hands. Her eyes widened but her voice was lost, left in the dream. She couldn’t scream as the nightmare became real and seized control.
Round, yellow cat’s eyes glowed from gray skin stretched tight over his skull. In contrast, his lips were wide and fleshy. Long, pointed ears that curled over at the top were almost hidden by his hair—the only part of him she recognized. The beaded dreadlocks could only be Roan’s.
The goblin didn’t move. “Is this what you want?” His voice rasped like a file over rust-riddled iron. “Is this what you want to see every time you summon me?” He released her hand. His knotted fingers traced her cheek. As a man the gesture had been kind, now his hand only promised cruelty.
A tremor started deep in her body, rattling the breath in her lungs. The scent of leaves left to wither on the forest floor filled the room.
He placed his lips on her cheek and whispered in her ear. “Is this what you want to lie with? Do you want these hands on your skin?”
She didn’t fight and didn’t push him away. Her limbs wouldn’t move. This wasn’t the man she knew. “This isn’t you.”
“This is what I am. I am the Goblin King.” Despair and anger swept the room. “Not a forgotten warrior, not a dream-lover, not a man.” He stared down at her, stripping her emotions bare, laying open every fear for him to see. “Without you as my queen this is what I become. Forever. I want to keep my soul, Eliza.”
She gasped, understanding why he’d brought her back. Not because he didn’t want her, but because he wanted her so much it would cost him his soul. The realization made her dizzy.
“You’re a man. I’ve seen you.” The words tore her throat.
“Not in the Fixed Realm.” His voice lowered. “Not in your world.”
He was truly a goblin. The man she’d seen was nothing but a mask worn in the Shadowlands to lure her into being his queen. An eternity as the goblin’s bride, warming his bed.
“No.” Tears burned her eyes. She shook her head as if she could remove the sight of the goblin. Like denial could make the horror go away.
He released her and stood at the foot of the bed. “Think hard before calling me again. Next time there will be no choice. I will take the summons as your acceptance. You will be mine.” The shadows coalesced around the Goblin King. “Marry your fiancé, Eliza. At least he is huma
n.”
Chapter 8
The dust beneath his feet surged and writhed as if a million ants sought their way to the surface. Shadowlands magic flowed through him dark, slick, tempting. An ice-cold oblivion from the constant fight to remain human.
Was it worth the fight?
Was being human really so grand?
He had the power of every fear ever thought at his fingertips. He could control nightmares. He could make them reality, so every moment became a delicate hell that would never end. But it had only taken one look at his face to reduce Eliza to tears and to ensure that he would never again be included in her dreams.
Roan stared into the endless, lusterless twilight. No dark, dreamless night lit only by stars. No hope of a fat, fertile moon. No promise of a bright, bleeding dawn. Just the endless quest for more gold, as if goblins could create their own sun if they only had enough. It was never enough. There wasn’t enough gold in the universe to fill the need that bored through his chest. Only Eliza could’ve stopped the rot.
And he’d made sure she regretted ever summoning the Goblin King.
He clenched his fists. This ended now. No more games. The druid would die, or the curse would take Roan completely into its embrace. The ground quaked as if he was tearing out the center of the world.
“Elryion!”
The huge crow appeared in the sky. Magic burned Roan’s fingers as he attacked. Lightning arced out of the ground, and the bird dodged. It rolled like a fighter pilot, then dived. The ground at Roan’s feet tore, trying to swallow him whole. He sealed the gaping maw without losing his footing. His soul loosened and flapped like a flag in a tornado, waiting for the right moment to tear free and be lost in the storm.
Hail the size of fists fell from a cloudless sky, forcing the crow to land. One hundred paces away the druid became a man. Too far away for Roan to fight him as a warrior should, hand to hand. The druid was too smart to ever let that happen. He may have been wrong in placing the curse, but admitting it would mean forfeiting his own soul. A price he was too proud to pay.
So it was always a magical fight, both left spent but alive, and Roan just a little closer to the abyss that nibbled at his toes. Today he didn’t care how much power he drew. The cold magic scoured his veins. The gold in his chest expanded, fed by the rage at himself. He’d pushed Eliza away. He hadn’t given her a chance to understand. He’d just expected her obedience as if she were a slave to command.
He melted the ground beneath the druid. Lava bubbled. Red blisters popped and oozed. The druid reformed ground, so he stood in a sea of weeping magma. Roan stalked toward the druid, but the ground sucked at his feet. It clung to his legs as unseen hands dragged him down into the gray muck.
Roan laughed as he sunk up to his knees. If he didn’t fight, he would be entombed in the dust. Not dead. Not alive. One with the Shadowlands forever. It was the fate he deserved.
The mud clawed at his thighs. Roan snarled and yelled, “Is that the best you have?”
The druid smiled, and beside him on the island appeared Eliza.
Roan stopped. The blinding rage cleared and left him hollow. No. Not possible. Elryion lacked the power to pull people through from the Fixed Realm. He couldn’t leave the Shadowlands. Roan drew the gun and fired at the druid. The bullets fell to the ground well short of their target, stopped by magic. He would never get close enough to kill.
Elryion pushed her to the edge of his island. Eliza screamed. Roan fought against the thick gray mud, sinking with every step. Wading through it without magic he would never get there in time.
All he had to do was cool the lava and close the ground. Let Elryion win. His fingers throbbed with unspent power. He could save himself and Eliza. He curled his hands. That would be all it took. That little morsel of magic would gobble up his soul without a second thought. He would be Hoard, Eliza would be his, and the druid would be free.
Eliza begged, pleading for her life. Her long, pale blond hair whipped around her face. As Roan stood still, sanity took residence. She was exactly as the druid had seen her at Anfri’s burning. Eliza had dark golden hair now. The color made her skin glow—lit with an inner fire he had done his best to taint. Roan let his breath ease out. This Eliza wasn’t real. The druid was using fear, his fear and his nightmare of a world without Eliza.
He raised his hands. “Do it, Elryion. Prove how far you have fallen.”
The druid shoved the Eliza-illusion into the lava-lake. Roan’s stomach lurched, punching his ribs. He reached out a hand, barely stopping the magic from leaping to do his bidding. The instinct to save her was so powerful he almost obeyed even though he knew the truth. Her death was over in a second. It may not have been real, but the loss was. He had lost Eliza. A man would have cried. He was just numb.
Unable to tempt Roan into surrender, the druid took flight. The crow lived to fight another day. Another day when Roan would lose to a man who was as lost as he was.
Roan climbed out of the dust and lay down. Two thousand years and he was just as fucked now as he had been that first day. If it had only been him cursed, he would have ended it long ago. He couldn’t die without taking his brother with him. He lay motionless. The cold from the ground seeped into bones that should have turned to dust centuries ago and left no trace of his passing. He was old. He was tired. He was alone.
***
Roan found Dai sitting at the desk where he spent most of his days. A pile of scrolls and maps sat to one side. Occasionally Dai would find a report of some misdeed they were commanded to commit and they would toast the bad old days before they’d had control. He’d seen evil men rewarded. Good men assassinated. They’d changed history without anyone knowing who they were. He wanted Eliza to remember who he was—not the goblin he was becoming. He’d screwed that up.
“Finished your pissing contest with Elryion?” Dai looked over the gold rim of his glasses.
Roan slumped into a seat. He ran his hand over his face. Gray dust clung to his skin like he was already halfway goblin. He’d made himself walk back to the caves. Distance in the Shadowlands, like everything else, shifted to make the individual suffer. In his case, he was sure he’d walked a solid day with his sword in his hand, looking out for goblin scouts who wouldn’t hesitate to challenge him for a crown he was ready to surrender.
“This might cool your heels.” A faint smile crossed Dai’s lips as he tossed Roan a pouch.
Roan caught the dull black leather bag one-handed. He tipped the contents into his palm. The black gems were beautiful but lacked the lure of gold. They seemed to absorb the light then reflect it, like it was their own fire and they burned from within. His hand warmed, the magic that tied him to the Shadowlands gone. In shock he threw them down and the gems scattered over the table.
“What are they?” Roan flexed his fingers to assess any damage that had been done.
“Black diamonds.” Dai took of his glasses, his fingers going through the empty gold frames. He had no need for lenses. “They are said to protect the wearer from the Shadowlands. I take it they work.”
“I’m not an experiment. Without our magic, we are at the mercy of Elryion.” Roan summoned a glass goblet of water. His throat was dry after his walk. He relaxed a little when the goblet appeared. The diamonds hadn’t stolen the magic permanently.
“With every battle you get closer.” Dai placed three small silvery bars on the table. “If the diamonds stop the fade, I say wear them.”
“Is this what you’ve been searching for?” Roan toyed with a diamond, feeling the retreat and advance of magic but no movement from his heart.
Dai looked away, distracted by a scroll on his desk. “Not exactly.” He traced a line of text. “Black fire fell from the sky, blessed by the gods. No evil survived.” He opened another scroll.
Roan pinched the diamond between his fingers and stared at his brother. He wanted the simple answer, not the thesis including references. “What exactly were you looking for?”
“These dia
monds were ripped out of the earth. I chased every reference, searched every tomb. The diamonds that fell to earth remain missing.”
Or never existed. It wouldn’t be the first time the writers of old had been less than honest in their scribblings.
“Would the sky diamonds have broken the curse?”
Dai shook his head.
Roan clamped his teeth together. They had fake mythical diamonds that appeared to protect the wearer. That did them no good when he faded. He put the diamond down.
“How does this help to break the curse?”
“A stay of execution, brother.”
“What good is a stay of execution when the axe will still fall?” Roan pulled out his gun and placed it on the table. Could Dai not feel the drag of the Shadowlands? He didn’t want a reprieve, he needed a cure. Death would suffice.
“We will find a way to break the curse. I need more time.” Dai’s gaze flicked between Roan and the gun.
“How much? A decade? A century? Another thousand years?” Roan traced the smooth contours of the metal. He flicked the safety off. It would be over in an instant. No more fighting. No more weight in his chest. No more tugging on his soul. Peace and an eternity of dining in the Hall of the Gods. They wouldn’t deny him. They denied no warrior who fell. He hoped they wouldn’t force him to be reborn. He wasn’t sure he could manage another lifetime after this one.
Dai pulled the gun over the table. He thumbed the safety back on. “Is the gray that close?”
The muscle in Roan’s cheek twitched. Dai wasn’t ready. He couldn’t take his brother’s life just because he was tired of living.
“Until today I had hope.” Roan closed his eyes and made himself breathe. “I believed that one day I could have everything I’d been denied by the gods. A wife, a family. Things men take for granted.”
Roan used magic to pull the gun back into his grip. He knew he shouldn’t be drawing on the Shadowlands, but it had become habit. And it would be a hard habit to break. He holstered the metal, saving its promise for another time. “That day will never come.”
