by Shona Husk
“Where else am I going to be?” Meryn couldn’t hide the resignation in his voice.
Dai walked into the clearing, a bag in one hand and the arrowhead in the other, and that odd glimmer in his eye. That was how he was locating him, with magic, and Meryn was willing to wager that the arrowhead he’d made had something to do with it.
Dai took a seat on a nearby log and began unpacking the food.
“You came alone.” Meryn had almost expected Dai to bring Roan with him to force a confrontation.
“I thought it best after last time. I wasn’t sure how I’d be received.” Dai gave him a pointed look.
Dai was trying; it was he who was behaving poorly. “Thank you for bringing dinner. It is food of this country?”
“Of the time. Chicken and fries.”
Meryn looked up from the food and at his cousin. “How many years have passed since I was a man?” How many years had Dai and Roan and the others lived in the Shadowlands waiting for the curse to break?
Dai didn’t answer straight away. The trees whispered in the breeze and sent a shiver down Meryn’s back. He knew many years had passed. One hundred, two hundred? More?
After several heartbeats Dai spoke. “Nearly two thousand,” he finally said softly.
Meryn blinked, sure he hadn’t heard correctly. Two thousand years? How was that possible? He couldn’t grasp a number that big—not as years anyway. He was used to seeing thousands in an army. A full Roman legion was close to six thousand men. But two thousand years? A man could live forty lives in that amount of time. Idella would have been reborn and lived many lives in that time. While she had lived and loved other men, he’d spent that time killing for gold with cold, gray hands and an empty head and heart.
The reality sunk in leaving him cold. He forced himself to speak. “What of the Decangli?”
“Wiped out that night. The men were killed for supporting the rebellion.” Dai watched him as if waiting for him to give up and turn gray again.
Meryn drew in a breath of cool air. That was to be expected. He’d watched the battle, remembered the men had proceeded with the plan, even though some bastard had whispered the plan to the general. “The families were killed too?”
Leave no one alive to raise another rebellion. The Romans were brutal, they fought for an Empire so big, so vast it would take a lifetime to travel from one end to the other.
Dai nodded. “What happened to you that first summons?”
The muscles in Meryn’s jaw worked. They didn’t know what he’d seen or why he’d let the curse take him into its cold embrace. Maybe now it was time to share—not because he expected sympathy, or forgiveness, but because he wanted Dai to understand.
Meryn reached out and picked up a handful of fries. They were hot and salty and oily, but not unpleasant. He chewed while Dai remained silent, waiting for an answer.
“Idella was calling out for me. I appeared in our home. She wanted me to help her.” He closed his eyes. The memory was so fresh, but it was old, thousands of years old. “There were legionnaires in our house, attacking her and scaring the girls. When she saw the goblin I’d become, she screamed and I could do nothing to help. I couldn’t move as my family was cut down.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that. But it was not your hand that killed them.”
“My hand would’ve been quicker.” He didn’t blame himself; he blamed the traitor. That man was responsible for the death of all the Decangli.
“And bloodied,” Dai said as he pulled a leg off the chicken and passed the rest to Meryn.
“Your hands?” Meryn took the chicken and pulled off a chunk of flesh. It was hot and smelled better than anything he’d eaten for too long. There’d been something about the way Dai had spoken that suggested he’d seen his own horror that night.
“They aren’t clean. That night, I was summoned by Claudius…” Dai stumbled over the name and Meryn knew why. There were things Dai had never told Roan, fearing it would spark a rebellion before they were ready; in the end, it hadn’t mattered. “He gave me a choice. My sister’s life in his hands or her death by mine.”
“Then there was no choice. You couldn’t have let your sister live the way you had.” Dai had been a slave and hostage ensuring Roan’s good behavior. He’d weathered all kinds of torture at the hands of the Roman general. Any man who treated another so poorly was barely better than an ignorant animal.
For several heartbeats neither of them spoke. They ate in silence surrounded by the memories of the life they’d once shared. It was becoming too easy to fall into old habits and trust his cousin. As much as Meryn wanted to keep his guard up around Dai, he longed to be surrounded by familiar faces again.
“Roan would like to see you.”
Meryn had known the request would come, and he knew he couldn’t avoid his king forever. But he could delay a little longer, until he worked out what he was going to say. “Tell me of the others. How do they fare in this strange world?” Meryn asked.
Dai’s shoulders dropped and he tossed a bone into the fire. “Brac died in battle with the druid. We gave him a warrior’s funeral in the Shadowlands. Fane took his own life soon after.” Dai shook his head. “He was too young; the Shadowlands were too harsh.”
“And Anfri?” It had been Anfri’s role that Meryn had taken over when Anfri had decided he was too old to advise the new, young king. He’d wanted to step aside officially, thereby making it appear to the Romans they had fresh leadership. It had worked. Even before Anfri had stepped aside, Meryn had been working with him, learning how to keep the king in people’s hearts.
“He faded only days before the curse broke.” Dai looked up, his face hard, revealing the pain of every death. “After you succumbed, we all swore to die before becoming goblin. We didn’t know breaking the curse would free the faded.” Dai forced out a breath and shook his head in regret. “Roan shot Anfri.”
“Roan couldn’t shoot an arrow to save himself.”
Dai’s lips twisted with a grin that didn’t fit the conversation. “With a gun, a new, more dangerous weapon than a bow. I’ll show you one; you would appreciate its simple lines and accuracy, and I have no doubt you’d be an excellent marksman.”
“So there is no one except us and Roan left.” The last three members of the Decangli. “What of the Romans?”
“Ah, they crumbled about four hundred years later.”
That was the first piece of good news Meryn had heard all night. It gave him a small measure of satisfaction. He ate a little more even though his stomach was full and he’d probably regret it with an uncomfortable night’s sleep. “How did the curse break?”
“Love. A woman called Eliza summoned Roan and somehow saw through the curse. They’re married now.”
“He finally found a queen.”
“Not a queen, a wife. Things are different now. We have to adapt and survive.”
That was something Meryn was very familiar with. “I’ve been surviving for a very long time. Running with goblins has made me weary.” That was the truth. He wanted more than mere survival—he wanted to live, even if he wasn’t sure how to do that in this world.
Dai pulled a black leather square from his pocket. “This is a wallet; it’s got money and your identification in it.” He handed it over for Meryn to examine.
“And who am I now?” Meryn opened the wallet. It was full of the paper money he’d seen people using, each one marked with squiggles he knew was writing. He wished he’d had the time to learn to read while he’d been planning battles and trying to keep the Decangli from being trampled by the Romans.
“Meryn Knight, thirty-seven, ex-army, security expert. Your family was killed a year ago. Since then you have been recovering.”
Night. That fitted after all the years he’d spent as a goblin. They were creatures of the shadows and darkness.
Meryn closed the wallet. He wasn’t thirty-seven; he’d been twenty-four when cursed. Nadine had assumed he was ex-army because he’d done
a lot of fighting; it had been easy to let her hold on to that belief. Security expert? Well, he knew how to plan battles. He looked up at his cousin. “You have a lie?”
“I do. I am Dai King, thirty-two, language researcher.”
“King?” Dai would never have been king. If Roan had died, that would’ve fallen on Meryn’s shoulders and Dai would’ve still been a Roman slave.
“Roan picked the name, not me.” There was an edge to his voice like he wasn’t thrilled either.
“Who picked my name?”
“Me. I kept as much of your life as I could and made it into something modern people would understand.”
The wallet was heavy in his hands. It would make life easier. This was the help he’d been needing, but it was too much; there were too many notes. He couldn’t take it all from his cousin. “I can’t accept the money.”
“It’s yours. All the gold that Roan and I and the others horded has been divided equally. There is enough for you to live very comfortably.” Dai pulled out a key from a small pocket in the bag. “I have arranged a house for you not far from here, so you can come to the park every day.”
Meryn stared at the key but didn’t take it. Help was one thing, but Dai was rewriting his life for him, showering him with gifts that would be far beyond his ability to ever repay. “It’s too much.” He’d be indebted for the rest of his life—and probably his next one too.
“It’s not safe to sleep out every night, Meryn. Plus it’s winter and there are storms forecast.”
Winter but milder than any he’d known. But he knew Dai was right; he’d already reached the same conclusion. He couldn’t keep living in the woods. When he didn’t respond, Dai pressed the point.
“At least let me show you where it is, please.” Dai was asking, not ordering.
“Very well,” Meryn said through gritted teeth, then realized how ungrateful he sounded. Two thousand years and their roles were reversed. Once it had been Dai resenting Meryn’s help even as he needed it. “Thank you for the gifts and organizing the house; it must have taken a lot of effort and coin.”
“After everything you did for me, I am glad to be able to return the favor.”
“It is returned, in full,” Meryn said without looking at him, as his eyes were burning. But he wouldn’t let the tears of gratitude fall. “Right, show me this house.”
They packed up the remains of the chicken, and Meryn ate the last of the fries and the sweet tasting coleslaw. Then Meryn put the wallet into his pocket and together they walked along the paths to the high-rises that overlooked the park.
“Over there?”
“The white building, ground floor, number two.” Dai pointed to the symbol on the key tag. “Would you like me to show you around?”
Meryn couldn’t deny that part of him was curious about the kind of houses people now lived in. What kind of house had Dai arranged for him? Yet he had to retain a shred of dignity. “No. I can do that myself. I’m not a child.”
Dai handed him the key with a smile, as if he understood that some things needed to be tackled alone. For a moment they both stood there, the silence expanding.
That house was a place he could take Nadine without embarrassment. It was somewhere safe to sleep without fear of attack.
Could he make himself into someone else the way Dai had and the way Roan must have? Did they have two thousand years of memories locked in their heads? Was it even possible for a man to remember that much? Then again, there wasn’t much to remember about the Shadowlands, just endless gray broken by the occasional twisted tree. Surviving as men there must have been harsh. He swallowed the bitterness at the back of his throat. He should have been with them instead of running with the goblins for two thousand years.
He had no gold to share with them. He had nothing except what he was given. His fingers curled around the key. While he wanted to investigate, he couldn’t. Not with Dai watching his every move.
“Can I tell Roan you will see him?”
That was the unspoken cost of the house. Dai didn’t want money; he wanted Meryn to return with him to see Roan. “I am not ready to see him.”
Dai nodded, his gaze on the ground. “There is only so much I can do, Meryn. I have given you everything you need to fit in, to live in this time.” He lifted his head and looked at Meryn. “There is no going back, no changing of the past, only this. And it’s weird and strange and some of it will take a while to get used to, but we’re Decangli—we don’t quit when it gets hard.”
That was a line Meryn had used many times when trying to keep hope alive in the tribe. Back then he’d believed it. Now?
If he quit trying, he might as well crawl under a log and die, but that didn’t mean he was ready to move into a house and start faking his new life.
“I’m not quitting; I’m taking my time. You’ve had two thousand years; I’ve had less than ten days.” Meryn turned and walked away, half expecting Dai to follow.
When he glanced over his shoulder Dai was gone, as if he’d never been there. Meryn opened his hand to check the key was real, that he hadn’t dreamed the whole conversation. The metal glinted in the moonlight; for a heartbeat he was tempted to try the key in the door of the house, then he shoved the key into his pocket.
After three paces he turned around and walked toward the building. In the shadows he fumbled with the gate before getting it open. Once through the gate he stood in a small courtyard. There was a glass door on one side. He walked toward it, but there was no lock, only the smooth, cold surface. He frowned, unable to work out how to get in. He gave the door a push but nothing happened. He pressed the small red light, but nothing happened. He swore under his breath.
This was a job for daylight.
Maybe he should’ve let Dai show him in, maybe this was why Dai had grinned, because he’d known that it wasn’t as easy as putting a key in a lock. He’d prove to Dai he could get in…in the morning. He’d spend all day if need be.
He walked back to his campsite, wishing now he was sleeping in the house, but he was tired and he didn’t want to linger around the building at night in case someone rang the police. Another night in his shabby shelter with stolen clothes for blankets. What did Dai think of him living like this? He shook his head and busied himself building up the fire and changing from the good clothes Dai had given him to the other stolen ones and jacket he’d taken from the hospital. Then he lay down ready to sleep. Despite his full belly, it didn’t come quickly. He was too aware of his hovel, of the night animals calling to each other, and the key and wallet in his pocket.
His mind rebelled at the idea of using the key Dai had given him, even as his body craved the comfort of warm water and a bed. And not just for sleeping.
How far had he fallen? How far did he have to climb before he would once again be the man he once was? If he were a new man, instead of holding on to past glories, what would he do? He would take the help offered and climb faster, instead of stubbornly insisting he navigate the cliff face by himself.
He was climbing, his fingers scrabbling for a hold on the cold, gray stone. He adjusted his weight and reached for the next handhold, his fingers curled with the strain. He risked a glance down. The goblin that had been following him, hunting him, had begun climbing.
He had to reach the top first.
Without giving himself time to rest or consider what would happen if his hands slipped, he pressed on. The muscles in his arms and back burned. Sweat trickled down his spine like cold droplets of rain.
When he didn’t think he could go any further, his hand closed over the ledge. With a grunt and the last of his energy, he hauled himself up onto the top of the wall. It was two paces wide at the top. He took his bow off his back and pulled out an arrow. He carefully sighted on the goblin still climbing after him. He grimaced and paused. It didn’t feel right to pick off an unarmed target. And yet if he waited, he knew the goblin would win.
He looked over his shoulder at the castle. He wouldn’t be able to
climb down and reach the safety of hall before the goblin caught him. He used his sleeve to wipe a trickle of sweat out of his eyes and re-aimed. The goblin was closer; he could see the scar slashing down its cheek, drawing its eye down and twisting the side of its mouth. He knew this goblin. He’d caused that injury. The creature’s lips drew back in a snarl. Meryn drew the bow and looked down the shaft to the side of the goblin’s neck. One shot was all it would take.
Shapes emerged out of the dust. He blinked, but it wasn’t an illusion. More goblins were coming, drawn to the castle. He loosed the arrow. It flew true and the goblin fell off the wall, but ten were coming to take his place. He didn’t have enough arrows for them all.
Why were they coming?
For him?
He slung his bow over his shoulder and began a rapid descent, half climbing, half slipping and sliding, cutting open his hands and leaving crimson stains on the wall. His feet hit the dust, the impact reverberating through his body, but he didn’t pause. He sprinted across the space between the wall and the castle. A broken fountain without water and a bench sat in the dust. This must have been a garden once. He could almost see it, the grounds neatly laid out. The sound of his footsteps changed and he glanced down. The dust had been replaced with a paved path, but he didn’t have time to examine how that was possible. He glanced behind him to see the goblins coming over the wall.
His heart lurched; there were too many of them. He looked back at the castle. On every windowsill was a gold coin, as if the occupant was intentionally attracting goblins. Who would do such a crazy thing?
And he was caught between the castle and incoming goblins. He had no choice but to reach the castle and pray the walls would offer safety.
At first he saw no door, but as the path formed beneath his feet a large timber door formed in the wall. He didn’t waste time knocking, just pulled on the handle, let himself in, then slammed it closed, and dropped the bar. For a moment he leaned against the door and caught his breath.
Outside the yelling grew louder as the goblins drew closer.
If they found him, they’d eat him. He had to get rid of the gold.
