Frostbitten Fairy Tales

by Melanie Karsak

  “Please, Archie. I must hurry.”

  “All right.”

  Sliding the ladder to the folklore section of the stacks, I slipped up the steps and began scanning. My fingers danced across the spines of the books. I couldn’t find it. I looked at row upon row. As I did, my anxiety rose. It wasn’t here.

  “Anything?” I called to Archie.

  “Not yet.”

  I checked the entire folklore and fairy tales sections. It wasn’t there. Climbing back down, I moved the ladder along its rails to the books on religion.

  “Scarlette, do you want me to fetch Earl Walpole? Surely, he will know where the book is to be found. And maybe even the language.”

  “No, not yet.”

  I checked every book on religion. Nothing.

  “Not here,” Archie said. “Do you know what the book is about?”

  “Maybe…maybe, magic?”

  “Magic?”

  I nodded.

  Archie looked at me, stroking his chin as he considered the issue. “Scarlette, you must tell me what you have seen.”

  “I…well, I don’t know exactly,” I replied.

  “Does this have something to do with those merchants you’ve seen in the woods?”

  “Yes.”

  “The ones that aren’t there anymore.”

  “They are there. They just aren’t…”

  “Aren’t what?”

  “Aren’t what they seem.”

  “You mean, they aren’t human,” Archie said. His tone was so matter-of-fact, I didn’t know what to say.

  “Why don’t you look surprised? Or confused. Or alarmed. Or…”

  Archie looked over his shoulder. He tapped the pin on his lapel, the R.M. encapsulated by a circle. “No one in this house would be surprised. It is an issue that concerns all of us.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That we know. Now, tell me what you saw.”

  “I’m not sure. If I had to pick a word, it would be goblins. A goblin market. I thought they were just merchants, traveling vendors. They were so insistent. I avoided them until…”

  Archie inhaled and stiffened. “Please don’t tell me you bought something.”

  “I…”

  “Please don’t tell me you tasted any of their fruits, their sweets—“

  “No, no. I didn’t. But I did buy.”

  “What did you buy?”

  “Hagstones.”

  Archie’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

  “My gnomes. I must be going mad. Archie, I sewed the hagstones into the gnomes, gave them heart, just as your grandfather said. And they…they came to life. I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but all the work at the Two Sisters was done overnight. The gnomes did the work. They came alive because of those stones. But the goblins have taken my windup key, and they’ve threatened to do more, do worse, unless I bring them the book.”

  “Scarlette, you must never bargain with goblin men.”

  “Who would believe such a thing exists?”

  He nodded stoically then looked at the yellowed paper in his hand once more.

  I glanced around the room then considered the problem once more. Why would goblins want a book? What rare piece of information could it hold?

  I gasped. “Rare books,” I said then ran to the other side of the library. Fingering through the shelf, I finally discovered a very small book with brittle binding. Along its edge was written the name of the title in the unfamiliar language.

  “Is that it?” Archie asked.

  I nodded. Gently removing the book, which was so small it could fit in the palm of my hand, I set it on the table. The paper was thin, the binding so old, that flakes of the cover came off. Turning the pages gently, and keeping in mind that Uncle Horace always wore white gloves when handling his rare tomes, I looked inside.

  Archie came and stood beside me, watching as I turned the pages.

  “I don’t know this language,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Nor do I. The…goblins—I still cannot believe I’m saying such a thing—do goblins have their own language? Is such a thing possible?”

  “Yes,” Archie replied, certainty in his voice.

  His answer chilled me.

  “But what is this book? Why do they want it so badly that they entrapped you just to get it?” Archie said.

  “I don’t know,” I eyed the writing, small loops and dots marked the letters which were otherwise unfamiliar. I exhaled heavily. “What if this book contains something very wicked. There is no way to know. How can I hand over such a book not knowing the content?”

  I turned to the very last page. There, at the end, was a signature. The name was almost impossible to read, but the letters took on a familiar shape. “Chri—something. Marl—something. I can’t make out the rest.”

  Archie nodded. “If only we knew what it said. There may be someone here who can read it. I don’t know. But we must tell Master Montgomery and Mistress Quickly.”

  “I…Elvish,” I said then snapped my fingers.

  “Elvish?”

  “Just something Laura said. She told me her mother said that if you look through a hagstone, you can read elvish. If we had a hagstone, maybe we could try.”

  “Grandfather didn’t have another. But your Uncle Horace has a fine collection of Native American artifacts,” Archie said then rushed to the door. “Wait here. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

  I went to the window. There, in the distance beyond the gate, I saw a hooded figure, waiting and watching.

  “Goblins.”

  Not possible.

  Not possible, but real.

  “Goblins and clockwork gnomes. What is this world?”

  I stared at the figure. A few moments later, Archie returned. “Here,” he said, lifting a rock which was a bit larger than the hagstones, but was still a stone with a hole at its center. He crossed the room to join me.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Your Uncle Horace’s Native American collection has a very nice assortment of tools used by the native people. I believe this was used for making weapons. No matter. It’s a stone with a hole. Let’s see if it works,” he said then handed the stone to me.

  I took the stone then paused, gazing out the window once more. “There,” I said, pointing.

  Archie followed my gaze.

  “Do you see him?” I asked.

  Archie nodded. “This realm is full of haunted places and things. It is a secret world that lives just under our own. You, Scarlette Rossetti, have opened the door to that world quite by accident. But, I think, it was inevitable.”

  “Inevitable? Why?”

  “Because all around you are doors. Eventually, you were going to open one.”

  I stared at Archie.

  He took my hand, and we went back to the table where the book lay.

  I turned the pages back to the beginning, took a deep breath, then lifted the stone. Centering it and focusing my vision, I looked at the book. My hands began to shake.

  “Scarlette?” Archie whispered.

  “A Guide to Controlling Goblins and other Magical Creatures,” I said, my voice trembling. “That is the title.”

  Archie rushed across the room and grabbed some parchment lying in a tray. He pulled out a chair and sat down, pulling an inkpot toward himself.

  “You read. I’ll record,” he said.

  I turned the page and looked as the words slowly shifted from goblin to English. “It’s all about goblins and other fey creatures. There are enchantments, spells.” I shook my head. “No wonder they want the book.”

  Outside, the wind blew, stirring up the snow.

  “Come buy, come buy,” I heard a soft call on the breeze.

  Archie turned toward the window. “Was that…”

  I nodded.

  He frowned. “If they want their book, then we shall give it back to them. But not without recording its contents first. Dammit, I wish there was a faster way.”

 
“We’ll invent one after this. I’ll be quick. Let’s begin. A Guide to Controlling Goblins and other Magical Creatures.”

  I began reciting, the hagstone translating the words from goblin to English. With each successive page, the hair on the back of my neck rose, and my skin broke out in goosebumps. The tiny tome spoke of pooka, brownies, boggarts, fairies, goblins, and even the little people of the hollow hills. Whoever had written this book had trafficked with them, learned their ways, and had recorded it all. My hands trembled as the book described the goblin king, a fierce overlord who was centuries old. I remembered the merchant’s words about his master. Is that who he meant? The goblin king? Had the goblin king demanded the return of the book?

  A footman came to call Archie and me for luncheon, but we sent our apologies. There was no time to stop. It had already grown dark outside when I finally came to the last page where the original author had left his mark.

  “I still cannot make out the name,” I said, frowning as I set down the hagstone.

  “We will inquire with the Rude Mechanicals.”

  “The what?”

  Archie tapped his pin once more. “The Rude Mechanicals.”

  “Like the Shakespeare play?”

  “Exactly. Master Shakespeare was a founding member.”

  Astonished, I shook my head. I gently closed the book and glanced outside. “It’s nearly dark. I need to go,” I said, standing. My neck and back ached.

  “The goblins will try to double-cross you. I’m coming with you.”

  “Archie, you can’t risk yourself for me.”

  “What if something happens to you?” he said then took my hand. “Scarlette… Please forgive me for being so presumptuous, but I’m afraid I’m quite taken with you. And, I think, you feel the same way. Thoughts have crossed my mind that I’ve never even entertained before. I can’t let you go alone. Do you understand? Letting you go alone puts that vision—and you—at risk.”

  “All right,” I said softly. “But you must promise to stay back and follow my lead.”

  “Anywhere.”

  I chuckled. “Anywhere? Very well, Master Boatswain. Let’s head to the goblin market.”

  Chapter 10: The Goblin Market

  Archie was Right. The Goblins would try to double-cross me. The smartest thing to do was to get there first. I lifted a page from Archie’s notes and stuck it in my pocket. My mind reeled at the thought that I was about to go confront a goblin on Christmas Eve no less. How was this even possible? How could this be real? Small moments from my life replayed themselves. Between Uncle Horace and Father, there had been awkward conversations about Uncle Horace’s scholarly purists. Even Father’s paintings—and when she had been alive, Mother’s sculptures—often depicted the supernatural. I remembered half conversations, odd looks, and fleeting shadows. I recalled seeing things I could never quite explain, people who made my skin grow cold, and others whose eyes were deep and rich with wisdom…or was it magic? Archie was right, it had been there all this time, right under my nose. Only now had it found me.

  We could hear the others in the parlor as we slipped outside. The sun had set. Moonbeams gleamed onto the powdery white canvas, making the snowflakes shimmer crystalline. The tall, leafless trees cast long shadows on the property. If I hadn’t been terrified, it would have been beautiful.

  Wordlessly, we entered the forest. Deep in the woods, I spied the tents. No one met us on the road.

  I looked up at Archie who nodded.

  I inhaled deeply, turned from the path, and moved through the trees. As we neared the little semi-circle of tents, I caught the smell of a campfire. It was quiet tonight. No merry songs. No calls to come buy. Just the crackle and pop of the fire.

  My skin rose in goosebumps as we neared.

  The orange, purple, blue, and green tents glowed from the firelight within. Swirling gold and silver designs were woven into the fabric. Colorful banners hung between the tents. Small mirrors and chimes hung from the drapes. The small bells and chimes jangled in the breeze. I took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the winter air deep inside my body.

  “I’m here,” I called.

  There was movement inside one of the tents, and a moment later, a hand reached from between the drapes, pushing the fabric aside. He stepped out slowly. He was taller than the others, an imposing figure. He wore a hooded robe like the merchants, but when he turned his head, his cowl fell back slightly, and I spotted his gleaming yellow eyes.

  The goblin king.

  “Yes, here you are,” the goblin king said, his voice deep and dark. “As is young Boatswain…and his pistol.”

  I glanced at Archie. He stood with his hand resting just inside his coat.

  “So we are,” Archie said, his voice hard.

  The goblin king shifted. I could feel his smirk even though I couldn’t see it. He dipped into his pocket and pulled out the windup key.

  “Clever design, Miss Rossetti. Enchanted gnomes. Gnomes. Of course, there are such creatures in this world. Real gnomes. They are not cheery lads like your little creations, Miss Rossetti. They are darker, older. But still, a clever design. We sensed a Boatswain hand in the mix.”

  “I’m not interested in your opinion. Give me the key,” I said, holding out my hand.

  “And my book?”

  I pulled the book from my pocket and showed it to the goblin king.

  He chuckled. “Ah yes, finally, our tome returns to us. He thought he was so clever. But now the book is mine.”

  “Who was so clever?”

  “One who would bargain with me. One who would learn our spells. The one who stole the book. But he got his. And he learned his lesson well. He learns it still every time he sees the moon. But he should have known better. One should never bargain—”

  “With goblin men,” I finished, casting a glance at Archie.

  “The book,” the goblin king said, extending his hand. He reached across the fire, his arm seeming to elongate to clear the space between us. While his cloak fluttered in the flames, it did not catch fire. His fingers had long, black claws. His skin was deep green colors, the blue-black veins bulging from under his skin.

  The windup key lay in his hand. I stepped closer, and moving carefully, I set the book in his palm, snatching the key at the same time.

  The goblin king laughed then pulled his hand back. He slid his hand across the cover of the book. “The one who stole my book…he, too, thought he’d made an honest bargain with goblin men. But, as you already seem to know, we goblins are not often true to our word. As I already said, one must never bargain with goblin men.”

  At that, he gestured.

  Gasping, I turned to see goblins standing behind Archie and me, blocking our path.

  Archie pulled his gun and leveled it on the goblin king.

  “Keep your word, or there will be a reckoning. The Mechanicals will not forgive you,” Archie said.

  The goblin king laughed. “Well, well, well, young Boatswain. What a fiery spirit. What are the Mechanicals to me? Nothing. You come and go, but I remain. It is an unfortunate matter, Miss Rossetti, that you have found your way into my web. But here we are. I have what I need. And now, I will have your silence.”

  Archie cocked the hammer on his gun. “You will leave, or you will have nothing.”

  The goblin king hissed at him then waved for the others behind us to attack.

  “No,” I screamed, holding up my hand. “No.”

  The goblin king laughed. “What could you possibly have to say that would change my mind, Miss Rossetti. Or perhaps you’d like to make another deal?”

  “I…yes,” I said, stalling. I pulled the sheet of paper from my pocket. “Yes, indeed, another deal. For Archie’s life.” I scanned the words quickly, engraving them on my memory.

  “And what will you bargain with now?” the goblin king asked.

  I sneered. “Oh, you must be confused. It’s you who needs to do the bargaining,” I said then began to chant:

 
“Moonlight riddle, casting down.

  Fix their feet upon the ground.

  Tie their tongues and bind their hands.

  To my spirit leashed, I now demand.

  Goblins damned, I rule you all.

  And now you will begin to fall.”

  “What? What is this?” the goblin king hissed.

  A sharp wind swept through the forest. The chimes on the tents jangled.

  “Moonlight riddle, casting down.

  Fix their feet upon the ground.

  Tie their tongues and bind their hands.

  To my spirit leashed, I now demand.

  Goblins damned, I rule you all.

  And now you will begin to fall.”

  “Silence, girl. How? How did you learn?” the goblin king hissed, stepping closer to me.

  I cleared my throat, met the goblin king’s eyes, then recited the last lines of the spell:

  “One by one, ash and bone

  Shall now be rendered into stone.”

  Behind me, a goblin screamed.

  And then another.

  And another.

  I cast a glance over my shoulder.

  The goblin men were turning to stone. They had been caught mid-attack. Their eyes wide, mouths open, arms raised and talons ready.

  The others paused and looked at one another.

  I glared at them then repeated loudly:

  “One by one, ash and bone

  Shall now be rendered into stone.”

  “Run, brothers,” the goblin who had made the pact with me hissed to his brethren. “Run while you can.”

  “But the king,” another protested.

  “Will leave us to die. Flee,” he yelled.

  “Leifch, you traitor,” the goblin king growled at the merchant.

  The merchant goblin cast a glance at me then snapped his fingers and disappeared.

  Still, I spoke the spell.

  “One by one, ash and bone

  Shall now be rendered into stone.”

  Another goblin shrieked then turned to stone.

  The wind blew harder.

  I raised my voice. My words echoed through the woods.

  “One by one, ash and bone

  Shall now be rendered into stone.”

  The others snapped their fingers, and in whirlwinds of snowflakes, they disappeared one by one.