by Molly Ringle
“What could the locals even do to you guys? I thought you were immortal.”
“Yes, but if we transgress, they can steal property from us. Some of our gold. Or they can take one of us and transform us into their kind, so that we will not be goblin-kind again.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you want?”
“Me, yes. Most of my tribe, though, they would hate it. Or at least, they would choose not to be transformed, but once they were, they would become tranquil enough. Therefore I do wish it…if help were coming tonight, perhaps…”
“Yeah, well. That isn’t looking too likely. But thanks for trying.”
Flowerwatch nodded unhappily.
“Flowerwatch!” Redring’s voice sliced through the noise.
Flowerwatch jumped, pushed the gag back into Kit’s mouth, and looked up.
Redring scrambled over. “Why do you linger over this useless lump? Come celebrate.”
“Yes. Yes.” Flowerwatch hunched down, hands splayed on the deck. “I was merely making sure his bonds were tight. So he will not disturb our revels.”
“If he does, we’ll kill him.” Redring honestly sounded like she didn’t care one way or the other, like these years of liaison interaction meant nothing to her. It chilled Kit’s blood. “He’s so nasty and rude, I wouldn’t mind an excuse.” She smiled at him, baring her pointed teeth.
Kit glared back, then recalled his desired future of staying alive alongside Livy, and dropped his gaze.
Redring sneered in triumph, kicked him in the thigh, and pulled Flowerwatch away toward the dancing tribe.
Climbing a hundred-foot-tall tree without any safety gear would be hard enough. Climbing a frozen tree, Livy found, was even harder. Frost and ice clung to the bark, making her boots slip on the skinny branches. She had managed not to fall, hanging on to branches with her gloved hands, but she squeaked in alarm at every slip, and shook from exertion and that special fear she got when she looked over the railings of high bridges.
She didn’t look down often on this ascent. She had made that mistake once so far, and it had felt like all her insides plummeted back to the ground. The snow made it worse, because she could see the whitened ground, and how far away it was, too clearly. Much better to only look upward, at the line of glowing blue mushrooms guiding her.
She estimated she was halfway up by now. The tree remained thick in circumference, the handhold branches still solid enough even if they did bend more than she liked when she hung her weight from them. The higher she climbed, the more the wind buffeted her and made the tree sway.
Air fae, meanwhile, swished by as fast as the wind, ghostly wisps that changed shape like puffs of mist, hovering for a second now and then to look at her. Some took the forms of birds or other flying creatures: she spotted a raven, a white owl, and a brown spotted moth, all of which she would have taken for ordinary animals except that they dissolved into clouds and blew away among the snowflakes.
She reached the canopy, or at least its underlayers. Here the cedar stretched out wide branches with scaly green needles. The path of glowing mushrooms ventured off the trunk and out along a branch as thick around as her waist. Livy climbed until the branch was at chest level, wrapped both hands around it, and with a whimper of reluctance, pulled her knees up on top of it.
Now she had no choice; she had to look down. It was practically impossible not to when you crawled along a horizontal branch. Her gaze locked onto the forest floor so far below, past the hundreds of dark branches she had climbed. Snowflakes tumbled in the vast space between her and the earth, their motion making her so dizzy that she dropped to her belly and twined all four limbs around the branch.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m going to fall. If I fall, I’m off the path, and that’s it.”
“Keep going.” The whisper was aloof, but soothing. “Our path is safe.”
Livy opened her eyes to find the hummingbird hovering next to her. It darted back and forth, hanging in mid-air like any hummingbird, but when it moved it left a temporary sparkling trail in the air. “How long till dawn?” she asked it.
“Not long. You can still get there if you keep going.”
She turned her head forward. The mushroom path led along the branch, disappearing several yards ahead under the hanging green fingers of the branch above. The canopy blocked most of her view of the goblin hideout, but through gaps between branches, she caught sight of the lanterns. The wind blew laughter and guttural voices to her.
Skye was there. In their hands.
Livy began inching along the branch on her belly. “I sure hope you have a plan for getting us down, that’s all.”
“The way will depend on the outcome.” Having delivered that enigmatic pronouncement, the hummingbird zoomed away.
Moss and lichen carpeted the top side of the branch; a soft surface to crawl on, at least. It was also frosty, and thus more slippery. Soon came a dreadful moment: the branch narrowed, and the path hopped down onto a different branch, a Douglas-fir this time, some five feet below Livy’s branch. It was time to switch trees.
“No,” she begged.
But she couldn’t crawl back down this branch, descend the tree, and leave Skye to an endless fate as a goblin. So although every part of her body trembled, she lowered her legs into the air, hanging onto the cedar branch. It felt like she was dangling above the Earth from a satellite. Her shaking feet touched the fir branch, which sagged alarmingly under her.
“Oh God. Please don’t let me fall.”
Snowflakes and air fae flitted past her face. The goblins caroused loudly, a few trees away.
The fir branch steadied. Livy settled her feet, let go of the cedar branch, and let herself drop onto the new branch on her front. She flung both arms around it. Christmas-tree scent from its crushed needles engulfed her face.
“Okay, tree. Don’t drop me.” After her trembling had subsided a little, she focused on the glowing mushroom path, and started scooting along, ankles locked around the branch.
The transfer to the next tree a few minutes later, a western hemlock, went more smoothly. She got to stand and hoist herself up onto the new branch this time, which felt less frightening than dropping down.
Now she could see more of the goblin village. It reminded her of one of Kit’s sculptures, except evil instead of lovely: a junkyard’s worth of boards, scrap metal, and lights, probably held together more by magic than by nails. The things bouncing around on it and screeching at each other emphasized the ghoulish atmosphere. This was her first look at the goblins in person, and though she was still too far off to see them clearly, she could tell Skye’s drawing had accurately captured their repulsiveness.
One more tree to transfer onto, then the next move after that would be the drop onto the goblins’ decks. Livy kept glancing at the lair as she scooted along. Though it made her want to scream in agony, she was trying to decide which of those knobby creatures was Skye. The tribe did seem to pay special attention to a pair who was rolling around and rutting against each other, snarling at anyone who tried to join in. Grady and Skye, quite likely. A nauseating thought. Although not as nauseating as the idea of it being Skye and some other goblin.
Livy forced her aching thighs and bruised knees to speed up. Soon it came time for the drop onto the next tree, a spruce. In her hastiness to reach Skye, she dropped onto the branch without bracing her feet properly, and they slipped on the icy, curved bark. With a shriek, she plummeted under the spruce branch. She held onto it with her hands, but not securely enough; she hadn’t had time to find an ideal grip, and the moss was peeling off, crumbling away, under her gloves.
“Oh God, oh no no no,” she sobbed.
A powerful gust of wind surged through the forest. The trees swayed and sighed; tiny ice pellets struck her cheek. The wind lifted another branch just under her feet, holding it there long enough for her to shove her boots against it and push herself higher, wrapping her hands in a stronger grasp around the spruce branch. She hau
led herself up onto it and clung to it, gasping. “Thank you. If that was you, air fae, thank you so much.”
Maybe they honestly wouldn’t let her fall, then. But she wouldn’t count on it. She crawled the rest of the path with extra caution, testing each patch for ice before shifting her weight onto it.
Finally she reached the end of her path, three or four feet above the outer railing of the goblins’ decks. The section below looked deserted at the moment, as most of the tribe was frolicking in the large central deck some twenty yards along, to her left. But other goblins could lurk in one of these huts atop the decks. She couldn’t see inside them, beyond a few glimpses through cracked, mismatched windows. Some huts were dark, while firelight glowed in others. On the outside walls, the goblins had strapped machetes, axes, bows and arrows, and other lethal tools, the way normal people hung kayaks and paddles upon garage walls.
So many ways they could kill her.
The golden frog zoomed into view. “Well done, Olivia Darwen. Dawn is in mere minutes. Remember, they will sense you as soon as you touch their dwellings, but we will do what we can to keep them from harming you.”
She swallowed. “I’m supposed to get Redring’s ring?”
“Yes. When you arrive, say to them, ‘I claim these three humans back, for they were wrongly stolen from my tribe.’ Then when you have the ring, give it to me, and we will use its magic to disband the goblins if we can.”
“If you can? Wait, three humans?”
“They have the liaison as well. He came to them.”
“What? Kit did? Oh my God.”
“He has not been transformed. They cannot do that to him. But they have tied him up and may hurt him further. So go, Olivia Darwen.”
“But how? How am I supposed to walk up to this deadly, strong goblin leader and just take her most treasured possession from around her neck?”
The frog looked somber. “Any way you can.”
Livy felt like she was ripping up all her hopes and tossing them into the winter wind. “Well, this is…this is just insanity.” But then, it had been insanity to think she could survive the path through earth, water, fire, and air, yet she had.
Joining her ripped-up hopes, she jumped through the wind, and landed on the goblins’ lair.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SKYE HAD TO THINK A MOMENT TO REMEMBER HER NAME, AND SHE ONLY BOTHERED TRYING BECAUSE IT PIQUED HER curiosity. She recovered it, but it didn’t matter. She’d soon take a new one, after whatever item she stole from the first person she’d lure onto an enchanted path.
“I’ll make sure to steal something fun,” she told her mate, who held her across his legs, running his hands up and down her leathery body. “Something with a name I like.”
He laughed. “Good idea. I’ll do the same.”
Then they both tensed, along with the rest of the tribe. Everyone looked toward the huts on the northern side of the village. Skye looked too, from instinct, before she even knew why. A moment later her tribemates sent up the alarm.
“Intruder!”
“Someone upon our home!”
“Get the intruder!”
Skye and her mate stayed dazed upon the deck floor while the tribe dashed around, seizing weapons off walls and screeching commands to each other. Other than Skye and her mate, only Flowerwatch remained where she was, crouched over the chained-up liaison to shield him from being trampled. Ridiculously soft-hearted, that Flowerwatch.
“We have her! We have her!”
Seconds later, the tribe hauled in a woman by the arms and threw her down in the middle of the central deck, not far from Skye. The woman landed on her knees and lifted her arms in surrender, her gaze snapping around from the tip of one weapon to another. A circle of blades and arrows trapped her. By happenstance, Skye and her mate formed part of the circle, the only ones unarmed in it. Fear and resolute courage took turns on the intruder’s face. She was a mess, coated with mud and soot.
The liaison thrashed and emitted a muffled roar when he saw the woman, and something flailed in pain deep in Skye’s heart too. To soothe herself, she turned her face away and nuzzled her mate’s shoulder. He purred in satisfaction.
“What is this?” Redring sounded delighted. Skye looked up, encouraged by her leader’s voice. Redring pushed to the front of the circle and examined the intruder. “How in the world could you have gotten here, hmm? I suspect someone gave you help?” She amplified the last four words and directed them outward to the forest.
Gleams lit up in the surrounding trees—the hateful, stupid, weak locals. Skye and the rest of the tribe snarled at them.
“I claim these three humans back.” The intruder’s voice rasped as if she was exhausted, or ill. “They were wrongfully stolen from my tribe.”
“Oh indeed? Some fat frog has coached you well.”
A gold-colored gleam drew closer. Skye recognized it as a local leader, whom her tribe always just called the Fat Frog.
“You know this claim is valid, Redring,” the Fat Frog said. “It is magical law. We will retaliate on her behalf if you refuse.”
“Yet magical law also lets us kill anyone who enters our dwellings without our invitation. Hmm, how to resolve this?” Redring tapped her lip, pretending to be thoughtful, while the tribe jeered at the locals, and prodded weapons at the intruder.
The woman shot a startled look at the Fat Frog, then back at Redring—probably the frog hadn’t told her that part. “Please,” she said. “Just return these people to me. That’s all I want. We’ll leave you alone. No retaliation.”
“Oh, but I’d like to think about it a little longer,” Redring said. “Because dawn is so close now. Then your claim would become worthless, for their forms will be permanent. Or at least, I could turn them back into humans, but they’d never be the same again. Their minds…” Redring shook her head in mock regret, and the tribe shrieked with laughter.
“Please.” The woman’s voice broke. “A deal, then? Anything to change them back and let me take them home.”
The liaison roared again in furious protest, but no one paid him any attention. Even Flowerwatch had drawn away from him, creeping into the inner edge of the circle to observe the action.
Redring beckoned Skye and her mate forward. They obediently disentangled and crawled over. “Let me show you,” Redring told the woman, almost gently. “New tribemates, do you want to return to being human? Do you want to go back to that sad little town with this woman?”
Skye turned to look into the woman’s eyes. The woman locked gazes with her, and caught her breath. Tears filled her green eyes.
“Skye,” she whispered. “Come back. Please.”
The whole tribe hushed, watching.
The agony in Skye’s heart kicked harder, tortured. Strangely, she wanted to say yes. But that made no sense. Why say yes to something that caused so much pain?
Her mate grumbled behind her. She sensed uncertainty in his scent.
Skye looked away. Too much unhappiness in that life. Never again. She’d be foolish to accept.
“No,” she said.
“No,” her mate echoed.
“Skye,” the woman sobbed. Tears made wet, pale tracks in the soot on her face.
The sound tore into Skye’s heart, and she shrank away, wanting to escape that emotion. She turned her back on the woman, hooking her arm into her mate’s.
“You have your answer,” Redring told the intruder.
“Redring,” the Fat Frog warned, bobbing just outside the railings.
“She doesn’t know her mind anymore!” The woman’s voice grew strong again. “Change her back, change them both back, and I’ll—I’ll make a new deal with you.”
The liaison growled and writhed, louder than ever. Slide stomped on his head, hard enough to knock him half-unconscious, and he fell silent.
Redring smiled at the woman. “I am listening. Amuse me. What kind of deal?”
The human glanced in fear at the liaison, then looked Redring in
the eyes again. “Gold. That’s what you want, right? I’ll get you more. For my whole lifetime. More than he’s getting for you—in addition to what he brings you.”
An interesting tug-of-war of feelings battled in Skye: gold-lust combined with a strange abhorrence, a desire to keep the woman from agreeing to this deal. The abhorrence came only from that surviving kernel of humanity. It would fade before much longer; she only had to ride it out.
Redring edged between weapon points to draw out the intruder’s necklace on her fingertip. “Starting with this little piece?” She snapped the yarn and clutched the gold ring in her palm.
The woman gasped, darted a look around, then held still, watching Redring.
“Ugh.” Redring flung it aside. It bounced between the feet of other goblins, some of whom scrabbled for it, then grunted in disgust and let it fall again. “It’s foul,” Redring said. “It’s local. It will take extra magic just to cleanse it. So that’s how you got here.” She bared her teeth in a menacing grin as the woman stared at her. “Thought you’d vanish if I stole that, did you? No, not once you stepped onto our lair. We hold you now. You will leave when we wish it.”
“Then—then yes, take that gold, and more. How much more do you want, in exchange for letting us go, all four of us, unharmed, tonight?”
Above, the Fat Frog and other fae zipped back and forth, whispering in frantic consultation.
Redring considered the human. “Fifty times the weight of my ring. Every month.”
The woman’s gaze dropped to the talisman. “What does it weigh? Can I…” She reached out a hand toward it.
“Why, yes, weigh it in your hand and see. It is but a little trinket.”
The woman cupped the ring in her palm, testing its weight. Then with a move she probably thought was fast—but pitifully clumsy to the eye of a goblin—she yanked at the chain.
Everyone shrieked. Redring leaped back, the ring still safe on its chain. Knives and arrows lunged at the woman, but the locals plunged in and blasted them back with a wall of air, a whirlwind knocking weapons asunder and keeping the intruder safe, temporarily. Skye knew her tribe would soon scatter the pests like a cloud of gnats. Indeed, seconds later they did, but Redring held up her palm to stop the tribe from attacking the woman.
