"If you're sure you're ready."
There was no such thing as ready anymore, only confirmation and resolve that she must move on.
Him nodded and moved to gather their belongings, which had been scattered in the fray.
“We’ve lost our guide, you know.”
“I know.” She scanned the brush and shadows but caught no sign of Gorigast. The part of her within that had trusted and pitied him ached with sorrow, and she wondered if all along he had been leading them to that place to trap them.
Him held out the bag she’d been carrying her few belongings in, and she slung it over her shoulder.
“We’ll have to find our own way now,” she said.
"We will," Him promised.
She wanted to believe him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When the drakwn vine sprung up from the ground and grabbed hold of the queen, Gorigast’s first and only thought was to run, and so he ran until he could no longer hear the sounds of her screams clawing at his ears. And then he huddled in the shadows and cursed himself.
“Coward!” He pounded his balled fists into his face, immediate spasms of pain pulsing through the bone. “Stupid fool, stupid coward!” He wheezed. “If his queen is dead he’ll have your head!”
Maybe he should let him have it. It wasn’t exactly the most useful of heads; after all, it had been stupid enough to lead him into the Wald so very long ago, when he’d known very well at the time there would be no coming out of it.
But Kothar promised him freedom; freedom from the eternal imprisonment of the Darknjan Wald. All he had to do was bring the girl to the castle.
Startled to life, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than his own freedom. He wiped at the stickiness on his face. It might even be too late for freedom, but there was still hope somewhere deep inside him. Hope that one day he would see his village again, the faces of all those he’d left behind.
Gorigast ran back to the place he left her hanging between the balance of life and death with every intention of somehow becoming the hero, only he arrived just in time see her saved.
The elf shuddered, and the leaden sickness inside of him trembled through every nerve. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but he’d seen the vine attack so many times before and knew the outcome was never good.
The echo of the Hunter’s curse and despair still sounded in his mind.
“Coward…"
Why hadn’t he done something, anything?
He lingered at the edge of shadow. Shame and regret pulsed through him. Through damp, itchy eyes he watched the Hunter comfort and sooth the sobbing girl in his arms. Gorigast watched the Hunter tuck her hair behind her ear and whisper promises of protection. Nothing would ever come to harm her as long as he lived.
When finally convinced, she relaxed against Him, and reached up to touch the side of his face with the curious intent of a lover.
A lover… and in that reflection Gorigast’s mind began to piece things together that had not made sense before. The king wanted the Hunter dead because the Hunter had taken away the queen and embittered her against the king.
It had been dark for so long, and having seen the return of life himself, he knew that without a queen, the kingdom would only go on in darkness.
Flashes of life hinted just over his shoulder; luscious green ebbed through the shadows, and he thought he’d even heard the light and wonderful call of a sparrow. He couldn’t remember when last he’d known the comfort of the woods or the healing warmth of sunlight on his face.
Fists clenched at his sides, Gorigast sniffled and wiped his nose on the damp flag of his sleeve.
He listened to them speak to each other, sickened as he realized what had to be done. He’d done nothing but think of how he could get out of it before, but now...now he was ready to see his king's will done.
The Hunter stood up first, and then helped her to her feet. He reached out and plucked pieces of vine from her hair and as he retreated she reached out for his hand and just held it for a moment in her own.
They were moving on, he realized, and because he had fled he was powerless to stop them. Without his help, without the crystal the king had given him, they would never reach the castle.
Gorigast swallowed against his own fear when he realized how furious his majesty would be when they veered off course. That coupled with the cowardice Gorigast had shown in the face of danger was likely to earn him a very long and tortuous death.
If he could only assure that they arrived at the castle, he might at least avoid torture, but how he could interject himself back into their plans without them knowing...
Like a dream there unraveled a glorious sound in the distance, the glorious sound of music. As lightness moved through him, Gorigast’s face writhed into a malignant grin. He was saved ... saved.
*****
From the looking glass in his throne room, Kothar, who was most impatient, watched the entire scene unfold. He hovered over the glass like a shade, contemplating the dual nature of his own reaction.
First and foremost, he was furious with the elf for abandoning the girl to her own fate, and secondly he was angry with himself for putting stock in that wretched little fool in the first place. Gorigast had been so desperate to please that Kothar was sure he’d carry out the simple tasks without mistake.
Failure.
Such were the trials of a master who claimed domain over a kingdom of idiots and fools. Minions were good when it came to dirty work, but couldn’t be bothered with meticulous detail, and fools, well fools were good for nothing. Gorigast was an utter fool, and putting even the smallest sliver of faith in a fool made Kothar himself feel the fool.
After Kothar had taken over the goblin kingdom, he’d learned rather quickly that if he wanted something done right, he had no choice but to see to it himself. How could he have let slip that most important lesson when such a monumental task needed carried out?
Dark magic lingered behind his eyes, and a playful grin worked the muscles of his mouth. He could easily open the path for her with the wave of a hand, but where was the fun in that? Besides, as long as the Hunter still lived, she would remain unyielding to the plans Kothar made for her.
He paced the floor, and contemplated his unique position.
So far nothing had gone smoothly, except for the manner in which she’d dealt with the elf from the start. She was genuine, firm but realistic, and he needed her. He needed someone who rivaled his power, someone to help make sense of all the foolishness he faced day in and day out.
Meredith be her name in this new incarnation, but she was still his beloved Glylwythiel. Stubborn, willful, her devotion alone was enough to empower ten kingdoms, and the sufferance she endured in the Darknjan Wald would lend her the understanding she needed to relate to his own suffering before the end. She was compassion incarnate, and he needed her beside him.
Once she tasted both power and helplessness in the same breath, she would reach out and take solace in the knowledge that there was a place of comfort for her in his kingdom, a sense of belonging in his arms.
Kothar grinned, satisfied. He had not wanted to taint the situation with his own hand, but he would do what he must. From the beginning he expected to make her suffer far more than she could have ever dreamed. After all she had made promises without keeping them, shunned him when he needed her more than ever. He did not dare make things any easier on her than they needed to be, and no heartache would be spared her until she was his and his alone.
A thoughtful breath escaped through the king’s nose, warmed his upper lip, which curled into thoughtful malice.
He watched them in the crystal until his eyes were distracted by a silent minstrel. Several of the type lived just outside the Nether Lake, and very rarely traveled far outside their boundaries. The elf heard the sound too, and without having to lift a single finger of influence, Gorigast began forming his own plan.
Kothar clapped his gloved hands together in triumph and the feel of the leath
er, like softest skin against skin, soothed him.
And soon he would feel her skin, and this wrought another wicked grin from him.
It was all going to be far too simple, and for a moment he thought he ought to be ashamed of himself for barely even trying.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Meredith perched her hands on her hips and tried to tune into their surroundings. She would have liked to say she had never been very good with directions, but she’d never really traveled far enough to need them.
On the inside she wanted to curse Gorigast for stranding them. She turned once, twice, thrice, and decided with a huff that they were lost.
“We came from that way,” Him noted. “I can still see bits of vine over there.”
“If I ever see that elf again, I’ll wring his neck!”
“We’ll find our own way. It just might take a bit longer.”
“If only he’d dropped those maps of his.”
Him broke out the wineskin and after a few generous swigs, handed it over to her. Meredith no longer sipped, but swallowed heartily to quench the dryness in her mouth.
“Maps,” Him laughed and walked with the wineskin sloshing at his side. “For all we know those maps were nothing but blank parchment anyway.
“Still.” The features of her face wrinkled with her frown. “They were a comfort while they were on our side. Now it feels as though we’ll never find our way.”
Him lowered an arm onto her shoulder and drew her close, “We will find our way, don’t worry.”
She did worry though; it was something she couldn’t help. Having spent much of her life chasing after Christina, worry was her constant companion. In fact, without worry, she wasn’t sure she would have made it through half of the outrageous stunts her sister had pulled over the years.
They had been lingering at a break in the path, and though she hated the idea of choosing wrong, she knew she had to pick a direction.
“Well, what’s it going to be? Left or right?” She stretched her neck, laying her head back against her shoulders and stared up to the sky as if the answer waited there.
“Left, right, both look the same if you ask me.”
“I suppose I should just pick one already and get on with it,” she sighed.
“As long as we’re not going backward, we’re going somewhere.”
“Right,” Meredith grinned at his logic and chose the first option that popped into her head. “Left it is then.”
“To the left,” he announced, bowing toward the left and gesturing for her to lead the way.
“Even if we are lost, at least we’ll be lost together.”
“Now there’s the proper spirit,” he laughed. “And just let me say, wherever I am, as long as you’re there, I’ll never feel lost or alone.”
Tingling giddiness lightened her step, “I’ll drink to that,” she reached for the wineskin and tipped it into her mouth.
She handed it back and Him drank as well, and then he corked it and returned it to his pack. They were barely a couple of steps onto the path when Him reached out to restrain her, and gestured with a finger to his lips for her be quiet. She stepped beside him and then ducked in behind his arm.
“What is it?” She whispered.
Him shook his head. It seemed forever before the silence overpowered the sound of her heartbeat, and at last it yielded to the swip-swop-swip of padded feet accompanied by the occasional rustle of brush and vine.
Perhaps Gorigast had come back to apologize for leaving her there to die.
She tried to imagine whether or not he felt guilty, still wanting to believe in her heart that he intended to do right by her. She leaned into Him’s shoulder to peer out onto the pathway just as a peculiar figure waddled into view.
His naked skin was painted all in black except for the face, which was stark white, the expression exaggerated by kohl black lines around both the mouth and eyes. Flung over its shoulder was a bright gold lute that swung curiously as he walked.
“It’s only a minstrel,” Him relaxed and began to step out of hiding.
“A minstrel?” she repeated. “You mean like a wandering musician?”
“Yes, only they do not speak.” He said. “They only communicate with gestures and music.”
“Curious.”
“They are said to be harmless.”
“Do you think we might ask him if he knows the way to the castle?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Him shrugged. “Though it may be difficult to understand him. It’s been years since I have come in contact with one of his kind and they aren't exactly known for their verbal communication skills.”
The minstrel hobbled toward them on chubby legs and without hesitation Meredith called out, “Hello there.”
The minstrel raised a hand in greeting and waggled four fingers at them. As he approached, Meredith noticed that his painted black lips seemed to smile without moving. Upon further inspection she discovered that the minstrel had no mouth at all, save for the one painted onto his face.
“Hello,” she began. “We are lost travelers in search of the goblin king’s castle.”
The minstrel blinked and nodded, and then he lowered himself into a deep appreciative bow before them.
Meredith couldn’t help herself when she laughed at his theatrical display. “We’re pleased to meet you as well,” she said. “Do you live here in the Wald?”
He lifted his chubby arms and turned a half circle on each side, as if embodying the whole of the Wald in his arms. Then he nodded.
“We are trying to find our way to the castle,” she explained.
Underneath the thick black paint, the minstrel’s white-blue eyes widened in mock surprise, and then he shook his head in feverish denial.
“Well, yes, I know it is dangerous,” she started.
The minstrel nodded.
“I have no choice though,” she went on. “The king of this wretched place has taken something of mine and I mean to get it back.”
The painted on smile twisted into a frown, and the strange creature lowered his face in sorrow.
“You wouldn’t happen to know the way to the castle, would you?”
Him stood on behind her, watching the minstrel curiously as he folded his arms and caught his left elbow in his right palm. He then swung his left hand up to support his chin in a thoughtful gesture. After a few moments he untangled his arms and tapped the side of his head as if to indicate he was remembering something. At last a false grin stole across his features, and he nodded his head.
“You do? That’s fantastic,” Meredith remarked. “Do you think you could show us the way?”
He recycled the same contemplative maneuver and resulted in a similar, enthusiastic nod.
“You will?” She clasped her hands together and looked to Him for approval.
Him shrugged. “He seems slightly more reliable than those maps that old coward carried.”
Meredith opened her mouth to scold him, but decided against it. “At this point, I won’t care how we get there, just so long as we get there.”
“Hear, hear!” Him chimed in.
The silent one’s lips curled once more into a painted smile, and then he swung his lute forward and strummed the strings. He picked up his feet and began walking in the opposite direction Meredith had just been about to take.
“See.” She turned to Him. “I would have taken us in the wrong direction.”
“Then it is a good thing this young fellow came along.”
The minstrel agreed as well with a furious nod, and then he turned toward the pathway. He strummed the strings of his lute in melodic sequence, his fake, black smile beaming back over his shoulder at them.
“Lead the way, kind sir.” Meredith laughed as he picked up his feet.
The minstrel became giddy, as if with laughter, and his head bobbed up and down.
“Just don’t lead us astray,” Him added.
When the minstrel heard those words, he tilted his head in tr
agic disappointment, the long corners of his mouth drawn downward. He struck a sorrowful note on his lute that seemed to echo through the Wald.
“Of course you would not do that, little friend,” Him apologized. “Shall we move onward then?”
As he stepped aside and gestured them forward, the Minstrel ducked onto the pathway, which at first promised to be suffocated and close with humidity and dark.
Neither Meredith nor Him seemed to notice the desperate rustle near the bottom of the hedgerow to their right, as if someone or something worked quickly to disguise their presence. They were both wrapped up in the giddy song that led their way, the minstrel’s lithe fingers plucking out a happy tune. The tune was repetitive, but quickly blended with their footsteps until it felt as if the music itself carried them on their way.
“That is a lovely tune,” she commented as they hedgerows began to thin out, revealing a vast wall of twisted trees on either side of the path. It was a more open path than any they had been on so far, and the absence of thick plant life clinging to the dank and merciless air drew the claustrophobic fear from Meredith’s mind.
For the first time her mind was clear and she was able to think. She wondered what time it was then, and how many hours had elapsed since they had stepped into the Wald. Was her sister really okay? Would she see her again soon?
All the while the minstrel played on, the deliberate nature of his constant tune carrying them on their way.
“You know,” she started, her voice quiet with contemplation. “When I was a small girl I used to dream of this world. My mother would just sit and listen to my stories, and that was all I believed them to be, but now...”
“Now you think they may have been memories?”
She shook her head, “I’m not sure. I haven’t thought of those dreams in so long I can barely remember them and if it weren’t for my sister and all of this…” She lifted her gaze upward and glanced behind them, momentarily distracted by the world wending to life in their wake. “If it weren’t for all this, I might never have thought of them again. What if I had never come back to this world, or never discovered that there was a whole side of me lying dormant and forgotten?”
The Goblin Market (Into the Green) Page 19
