by C. J. Anaya
“I’ll show you, Crysta. I’ll show you what we really feel for one another,” he said.
He lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against mine. My brain froze, my previous intentions completely forgotten under the power of this physical contact. The fire that simple touch ignited elicited a startled gasp from me. He took advantage and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. I was dismayed to realize if I’d had any power to move my arms I would have wrapped them around his neck.
What was the matter with me?
What was he doing to me?
Magic. A spell. It had to be. I didn’t feel anything for this man. I couldn’t.
I also couldn’t stop participating, dang it. He slowly pulled back, staring at me with his heart in his eyes, and I had to hand it to him. He was quite the actor. He’d put on quite a show. Making me feel things that were so wrong, so powerful, and so…so…amazing.
Until he took me to a secluded spot and killed me where no one could witness it. I kept trying to convince myself of his real intentions under the fog of whatever spell he’d cast.
“I’ve waited for weeks to do this. To get you back in my arms and know you’re okay,” he whispered.
Jareth leaned in again and kissed me once more.
I refused to acknowledge that the soft moan I made as his lips massaged mine actually came from me.
“Jareth, is she all right?” King Roderick said as he came into the room.
Like that guy cared. He’d murdered my mother in cold blood. Rage finally took over and those heady feelings of desire fled.
Jareth broke our kiss and pulled me into his arms. My limbs tingled, letting me know I could move them again.
“I think everything is going to be all right now. We should head back to the palace, Roderick. We need to figure out why she’s been running. We might need a healer or possibly a mind reader.”
No way were they reading my mind. They’d find out everything Kheelan and my father had planned. With a focus I hadn’t been able to grasp since Jareth walked into the inn, I latched on to every detail of my pristine bedroom, pushed away from Jareth, and pulled on my core as I pictured myself within the sprite mine. I had one moment to grab at Chuck, who dodged out of my way and latched onto Jareth—difficult reptile— before I disapparated and then apparated right in front of Kheelan. Jareth’s look of alarm as I escaped left an unnerving imprint within my mind.
“For crap’s sake,” I shouted. “I couldn’t grab Chuck, and now Jareth’s got him and is most likely going to hold that frustratingly unhelpful lizard for ransom in order to get to me.”
“Thank the gods,” Kheelan said as he crushed me in a bear hug.
Seriously? I’d just lost my dragon. That was not the response I was after.
“I couldn’t apparate back to get to you. Jareth and Roderick must have put up some sort of ward so you wouldn’t escape.”
I pulled back.
“Then how did I get here?”
“They’d have to dismantle it if they were preparing to remove you to the palace.”
“They were. I took them off guard as soon as they were distracted.”
“Clever girl,” Kheelan said kissing my forehead. “And don’t worry about Chuck. Fae dragons are hard to kill. He’ll take care of himself and make his way back to you somehow.”
“Your reassurance on Chuck’s behalf is far too vague in my opinion. What if Jareth hurts him to punish me?”
Kheelan’s lips spread into a wide grin.
“Fae dragons don’t let anyone or anything hurt them, Crysta. I promise you, he’ll be fine.”
I bit my bottom lip, not liking being separated from my dragon like this, but what exactly could I do about it? Just have a little faith in Kheelan and believe Chuck was winging his way back to me. And once he did, I planned on giving him the butt chewing he deserved. He’d actually dodged my grab.
Who does that?
My familiar, that’s who.
“I need to know what happened, Crysta. What exactly did they say to you?” His cautious, uneasy look made me nervous.
“Nothing that made much sense. In all honesty I wasn’t really listening. I was too focused on remembering the way this room looked and getting out of there. I couldn’t understand any of it.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him Jareth kissed me and acted like we were lovers, but I held back. In all honesty, I felt one hundred percent guilty for my response to his kisses. It felt like I’d cheated on Kheelan even though I knew the romantic feelings were all magically induced.
Still, I hesitated.
The emotions his kisses evoked had been far beyond anything I’d felt with Kheelan. I hated to think about that or even admit that to myself, but that inferno still burning within me had never been ignited by Kheelan’s touch.
“We need to leave at once before they trace us back here,” he said. He held me close to his chest. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
Hopefully, the further away we were from Jareth, the quicker the feel of his lips on mine and his secure arms claiming me would fade away and be forgotten just like my other memories.
Right.
Hopefully.
From a distance, Goblin Mountain looked like any other mountain with its craggy surfaces, jagged edges, and sparse blotches of greenery, although the neon glow of various colors shown bright and eerie in the growing dusk.
The base of the mountain was a completely different story. Patches of gray moss dotted the bases of lime green trees with neon yellow leaves. Most of the plant-life in the area had a neon tint of pinks, purples, and blues, along with the green of scattered trees.
I reached my hand out to touch the slimy bark, but Kheelan grabbed it before my skin made contact.
“Most of the bio-luminescent foliage is poisonous to the touch. Initial contact will cause blisters. If you don’t receive the antidote you’ll eventually turn into a Goblin.”
I snaked my hand away and hid it behind my back.
“Comforting,” I said. “Nothing like green skin, putrid warts, and glaring red eyes to match your wedding dress.”
Kheelan chuckled lightly. “Put these gloves on and do your best to avoid making contact with anything that glows.”
I grabbed the gloves he offered. “Why are we risking a climb up this mountain again?” I grumbled.
I quickly put the gloves on and adjusted my pack, which held quite a few provisions but wasn’t too cumbersome for me.
“Step where I step and try to keep noise level to a minimum,” my father said. “It won’t be safe to talk for the first leg of our journey since the Goblins are wide awake right now. Once dusk approaches, we’ll take a rest.”
We stepped onto a stone path littered with bits of green moss and began our trek with my father in the front and Kheelan taking up the rear. According to them, the path made a wide circle round the base of the mountain before slowly winding its way up. We’d make it halfway to the top by the end of the night if we continued walking and didn’t rest, and my father had no intention of resting. We had to get to the top fast. Our meeting with the Saytr King was day after tomorrow.
I kept my head down and carefully stepped where he stepped along the path, avoiding the curious little creatures that peeked from behind the bright yellow leaves of the trees lining our path.
Their bodies consisted of three parts much like a large ant. They did appear quite insect-like with their bright purple antennae and large, black bug-eyes. The only thing that led me to believe they weren’t insects were their haunches that looked a lot like Chuck’s. Scaly and well muscled with tiny claws for toes. They made a few cooing noises similar to the kind Chuck always made.
Kheelan let out a soft warning growl that sent them scampering behind the leaves. I was a little sad to see them go, but if he felt like a warning was in order, I wouldn’t berate him for it. I didn’t see anymore of those creatures after that, but the sounds of the night led me t
o believe we were most certainly not alone.
Raucous laughter could be heard from time to time, leaving me frozen and scared until Kheelan rested a comforting hand on my back and silently urged me forward. With my senses on high alert all night, and zero breaks in between, I was ready to call it quits once dawn approached. For the first time in hours I dared to speak.
“Are we by any chance hitting a resting point soon. I don’t think I was much of a mountain climber before I lost my memory.” My legs burned, my back ached, and my stomach grumbled something fierce.
Kheelan patted my back in reassurance as my father motioned a hand toward the top of the path. Once we reached it, the path opened up into a wide clearing filled with grass and surrounded by more neon green trees with bright yellow leaves.
“We’ll set up camp right in the middle of the clearing,” my father said.
“Really? Doesn’t that leave us too exposed?” I asked.
My father responded by picking up a muddied stick from our path and throwing it to the side next to one of the trees. I quirked an eyebrow in question, but he simply motioned me to wait.
For a moment nothing happened, and then the earth trembled just underneath the stick before a black, gnarled hand with curved, thin claws broke through the ground, grabbed the stick, and pulled it deep beneath the soil, disappearing just like the hand did. I didn’t realize I had a death grip on Kheelan’s arm until he gently untangled my fingers from his soft clothing and pulled me close to his chest.
“What…the hell…what was that?” I asked as I buried my face against him.
“Yanrath,” my father said. “The Egyptians once used these creatures to help mummify and bury their kings in the human realm. Then they lived as guards for their royal dead, capturing and pulling down anyone who dared enter the tombs and desecrate the kings’ final resting places into a shallow grave of their own.”
“And why are Yanrath here on Goblin Mountain?” I choked out.
“They’ve always been here,” Kheelan said. “Some of them willingly transplanted to the human realm when a few Egyptian kings found their way over to our realm. They saw the potential of the Yanrath and offered many a life they couldn’t refuse. The Yanrath live off the dying, enjoying decomposition, decay…all things related to death. They will leave us alone so long as we leave them alone.”
“Mummies,” I said. “I bet they look like decomposing mummies.”
Kheelan shook his head and pulled back to look at me.
“I wouldn’t know, Crysta. I’ve never seen anything other than a Yanrath’s hand. To see anything else means death is right around the corner. We sleep in the middle of the clearing and avoid anything other than the path after that. Is that clear?”
“Clear as glass,” I said, trying to still my trembling hands and failing miserably. I had the awful suspicion that I’d never been afraid of anything before I lost my memory. All this should have been second nature to me. Normal. These creatures of the Unseelie Court would be respected but never feared, and yet all I felt these days was fear.
Super demoralizing.
Get a grip, Crysta. No one likes a simpering damsel in distress.
I didn’t, anyway. I had this sinking suspicion that Kheelan was only too happy for me to play that role.
Lurking issues I didn’t want to think about.
Once camp was set up—essentially three sleeping bags strategically placed in the shape of a triangle and a small fire in the middle—all my previous exhaustion fled. I hadn’t had a chance to really spend much time with my father and I found myself wanting to know him better.
“So how did King Roderick manage to overthrow you?” I asked.
My father paused for a moment in his food preparations—it looked like a pot filled with oats of some kind—and contemplated my question.
Okay, in all fairness to him, I could have eased into the conversation a little bit better. Like asking him if he had a favorite color or if he preferred cantaloupe to watermelon.
“It’s just that, I don’t remember why we went into hiding or how long we’ve been in hiding. I just want to put the pieces together. If we’re trying to gain support for this campaign, how will we do that if your subjects willingly accepted Roderick and didn’t think twice about you being deposed.”
He stirred the food with a few vigorous jabs. “Did you forget I’m supposed to be dead? They didn’t think twice about it because he made everyone believe I’d passed on to the hereafter. He was next in line, so his succession to the throne was only natural and not something anyone questioned.”
“How long ago did he have you killed?’
“Eighteen years ago.”
My eyes popped wide at that.
“What?”
“You didn’t know I was alive until a few months ago, Crysta. All this time you were operating under the assumption that I was dead. I’ve been working to get my kingdom back for a long time. Once Jareth took steps to have you killed, it was necessary to bring you into the loop earlier than planned. I had to protect you.”
He glanced at me before going back to stirring our food, but that one look held a mountain of remorse. He appeared uneasy discussing it, but I had to know. I had a right to know.
“How did you and Kheelan become allies?” I asked. “How did he know you were still alive?”
“I reached out to him a long time ago when it was obvious King Moridan was becoming more imbalanced. We’ve been working on a plan to save the Fae realm for nearly two decades now. Your part in this will facilitate that, and your union with Kheelan makes our position much stronger.”
“I guess it would have been a shock to learn you were alive if I had any memory of you dying,” I said only half joking.
My father continued to attend to our meal as the heat from the fire seeped into my bones.
“You wouldn’t have recognized me even if you had remembered, Crysta. The attempt on my life and your mother’s life happened when you were just a baby.”
“And mother was killed.”
“Yes,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“Why was I left alive? Wouldn’t I have been a threat to King Roderick’s rule as well?”
“Who knows why King Roderick kept you alive. Perhaps he thought he could use you for an advantageous marriage alliance, and your union to Jareth most certainly would have been that for him,” Kheelan said. “Jareth is only interested in power. I have long suspected his involvement in the Dark Arts. His latest actions against us, against you, prove it.”
I puzzled that out for a moment, but I felt like I was missing a large portion of this story.
My mind flashed back to the kisses Jareth and I recently shared. The tender look in his eyes when he held me in his arms and his familiarity with me was too much. For a moment, I actually felt a stab of longing. Everything Kheelan and my father told me about Jareth didn’t make sense based on Jareth’s behavior toward me.
And there was more that didn’t necessarily fit their story. It didn’t make sense that I was still alive. It didn’t make sense that someone as ruthless as King Roderick would spare me in the hopes that I would one day make a good match. I had every right to overthrow him and claim the Court for myself, and he knew it.
So why keep me around?
Why not kill me?
And why did it take my father so long to reveal himself to me?
I didn’t like it. It didn’t add up. None of it added up, but I also had to recognize that I remembered nothing of my life, and my blank past only added to the confusion. I had no reason to distrust my father or Kheelan for that matter.
Then why was I beginning to worry that I didn’t know the whole of it?
Were they protecting me from a far more painful truth?
I just didn’t know, and because of my unease, I found it difficult to get as emotionally close to my father as I truly desired.
I stopped asking questions after that, unsure if I would be given half truths, or heaven forbid one big fat
lie. At the end of the day, I had to remind myself that no matter what, they had my best interests at heart. They had the best interests of the Fae realm at heart, and no matter the methods or the details of my past, our future would be adversely affected if we didn’t do something about King Moridan and King Roderick…and Jareth.
I couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or so when a light thumping sound a few yards off woke me. I blinked through the low lighting of the setting sun and moved into a seated position. Another thumping sound drew my attention to the right of our encampment. Something hard and compact beat against the blackened earth just underneath a copse of trees beyond our grassy area.
If I’d had an ounce of sense, I would have ignored it and gone back to bed.
Unfortunately, I didn’t seem to be graced with that lifesaving attribute and curiosity got the better of me. I quietly slipped out of my sleeping bag and made my way over to the tree line where grass met soil. The thump sounded again and I leaned over to investigate, but took a hasty step back when I realized a black-clawed hand was slapping the soil.
“What in the world?”
When I spoke, the hand stopped its pounding and stilled for a moment. Then it began to draw symbols in the dirt before me. I should have felt fear considering I was standing within arms reach of a Yanrath, but once again common sense fled and I could only look on in wonder as this creature attempted to communicate with me. I studied the foreign symbols once it finished and shook my head.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I have no idea what this means.”
It held up a hand and shook it as if to say, no worries, and then it smoothed the dirt out and began writing a message in a language I did understand.
“You are in danger,” I read under my breath. “I appreciate the warning, but I already know I’m being hunted, and I’m pretty sure traveling anywhere on Goblin Mountain isn’t a safe activity.”
The hand waved in frustration, I think. Then it erased the message with it’s claws and began writing again.
