White Stag

by Kara Barbieri

  I don’t have time for this. “Excuse me, I’m kind of on a deadline.”

  He looked over at me, a clear film covering his eyes like a snake. “Patience, sweet child.”

  I clenched my fists and reminded myself this was the only way to save Soren, and if that meant dealing with a senile nøkken, then I could do it. At least my throbbing palm was sealing up.

  But then the strength the song gave me seeped away until the fire in my body turned to cold ashes. Voices came, scowling, snarling, taunting, all mocking every flaw, every vulnerability.

  A thin sheet of sweat broke out across my body as my heart picked up speed. Regret tugged sharply at my gut as I pictured my father’s last moments with me, but deep inside I knew there was nothing I would’ve done differently, given another chance.

  Lydian’s words came out of my father’s mouth. Worthless. Needless. Wantless. A lucky human left to die. They were more painful than any poison.

  Someone cleared their throat, and I stared up at the nøkken. He had a vial in his hand, full of some odd purple salve. “Spread this directly on the wound,” he said. “And he should be fine within the hour.”

  I took the vial with trembling hands, remembering those first long nights in Soren’s manor when Tanya worked tirelessly to save my broken, beaten body. The look of myself in the mirror, realizing the extent of what Lydian had done to me. The massive scar tissue, the ugly blotch where my right breast used to be. The lines along my spine and stomach and ribs, the deep grooves on my face as stark white scar tissue stood out against dark skin. I’d never thought I was pretty, but I’d never believed I was ugly either. Not until then.

  “Although, I wonder,” the nøkken said, “are you fine?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I just need to get out of here.” My fingers curled tightly around the vial. “Thank you.”

  The cave beckoned for me to let the creature soak away my sorrow and turn it into red stone in the shape of flowers. I forced myself to take one step, then another, focusing on the cold water lapping steadily against my bare feet. I stuffed the vial in the pocket on my bracer, now grateful I hadn’t taken off all my clothes before diving in.

  It was relatively calm at first. The coldness of the water shocked away any lingering memories. I swam down the cavern, back to the dark, black water that waited for me, swirling in a merciless trap.

  The second I hit the blackness, the force of the whirlpool nearly blew me back into the cavern. I grasped a jagged rock, pulling myself into the stream. Water beat my body without pity, throwing me around like a ragdoll. I grasped another rock, then another, pulling myself up as the whirlpool greedily sucked me down.

  My head broke through the surface, and I gasped as air filled my burning lungs. The water wasn’t ready to relinquish its hold and tugged me back down under the waves.

  In the blackness, a green hand glowed. Its long fingers wrapped around my ankle, nails digging into the skin. The nøkken’s eyes burned with an eerie green fire as he dragged me under. I thrashed in the churning waves, panic beating in chest.

  He gave me his word. But he never said he’d let me go once I got the cure. I reached for the stiletto on my belt and with difficulty pulled it free. Then I swiped at the nøkken’s fingers. He let go, letting blood flow from where his nails had dug into my ankle. Light flashed behind my eyes, and the pain, loss, and regret spilled back out from where I’d buried it. Worthless, needless, wantless. Whip marks on bare flesh, glares from ghosts, rejection, death. The taste of raw meat in my mouth. The arrows through dead bodies, countless dead bodies. It was too much. Just too much. If my chest burst open and spilled my insides into the water, I wouldn’t be surprised. The pressure and pain threatened to tear at the seams inside me.

  I sank, my lips parting, eyes closing. A force hit me like a boulder, shoving me into the rocky wall of the abyss. Fingers pried the stiletto from my hand, and I couldn’t even try to stop it; the horrifying visions of blood and flesh and death played like a wheel spinning endlessly. The same force wrapped its arms around my waist, under my armpits, and jerked heavily once, twice, then again until the cold air blasted me from all directions.

  Gasping for breath, a pair of pale hands pulled me up out of the water. Soren’s concerned eyes latched onto mine, and in the darkness they raged with fever. The wound on his arm was turning black, the skin open and ugly. Without a second to waste, I ripped open the pocket of my bracer, pulled out the vial, and rubbed the contents into the deepest part of his wounds. Then I collapsed, the visions dancing before my eyes, taking over.

  * * *

  SOMETIME LATER, I woke up screaming, trapped in a pair of arms. Lydian. Lydian. He’s come to kill me. The vicious goblin was right before my eyes, his once-pretty body now animalistic and bending over to take what he thought was his. But the voice that spoke wasn’t Lydian’s. It calmed my racing heart, but only just.

  “Shh,” he said. “You’re going to be all right. It’s going to pass. I’ve got you.”

  The sweet darkness returned and took away the pain with it. A scream disturbed the peace, and I was on a field of bodies, those of my family, those of my friends, the bones of children piled high at my feet. Your fault, the skeletons said. Your fault. You could’ve warned us. You could’ve helped us hide. But you saved yourself. Your worthless, worthless self. The disfigured body of a young boy sat up, staring around with one good eye, the other half of his face ripped into bloody shreds. His auburn hair spilled down in ringlets, darkened by blood. The boy’s eye found me, and he tilted his head. Auntie, he said, why didn’t you save me?

  I clawed at my face and eyes if only to make it stop. But strong hands held me in place. The arms still pressed me firmly against a body that was hard and warm and almost shieldlike as it enclosed me in its embrace.

  “It’s not real,” he said. “None of it is real.” I shook. It was right in front of me! All of it! The piles of bones and the ghosts, the skeletons and the demons towering over me. I couldn’t be the only one who saw it.

  I’m sorry, I wanted to say to my sister’s son. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I would change everything if I could! But no words came out of my dry, dusty mouth.

  The boy frowned and said, How come I get half a face and you get a whole one? It’s not fair. The heartbroken look in his single blue eye tore my body into pieces, and I madly clawed at my own skin.

  I’ll make it up. I’ll make it up. I’ll make it up!

  Even though the strong hands were restraining now, their grip didn’t hurt. The warm body curling around me calmed me with its rapid heartbeat. The breath that’d rushed from my lungs was steadying.

  “There,” he said. “It’s almost over. It’s almost out of your system.” A hand ran through my hair, the sharp nails pricking my scalp. The sensation lit every nerve in my body in a mix of anxiety and euphoria.

  Then I was by Soren’s side as countless ghosts trudged by, their burnt bodies and dead eyes glaring at me accusingly, and their mockery leaving their skeletal mouths as the sound of clinking bones. Who are you, thrall, to follow behind him and keep his company? Who are you to reject your homeland and the teachings of your family? Targets became dead humans whose stares haunted me. With what little emotion they had left, they glared, they judged. You’re a blood traitor, they said. You should die with us, not lower yourself to their standards. You’re nothing but a whore. A pet. A lamb in wolfskin pretending to howl at the moon.

  My howl isn’t pretend anymore. The thought floated into my head. Neither are my claws.

  * * *

  WHEN I WOKE for real, it didn’t surprise me that I was wrapped in Soren’s arms. His muscular body pressed against mine, curling protectively around me. The wounds on my ankle from the nøkken had faded, but the lingering smell of brine made acid churn in my stomach.

  Soren’s hands were firmly wrapped around my wrists. I noticed red beneath my fingernails. I shifted slightly, my head pressing against Soren’s chest. Where his heart should’ve bee
n, there was a deep indent. In my nightmares there’d been rapid thumping, but it could’ve been the waterfall. Did goblins have normal heartbeats? I didn’t know.

  “Janneke.” His hard face relaxed in relief. “It’s over now. It’s over.”

  I breathed in his scent of woodsmoke and pine needles. “You know,” I murmured, letting the scent overwhelm me, “you were wrong.”

  “What could I possibly be wrong about?” I didn’t see the smile, but I knew it was there, just like I knew there’d be a twinkling light in his eyes.

  “You’re not a heartless monster,” I said. “You’re a monster with a heart.”

  He laughed.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. The sickening smell of dying flesh was gone, though the copper tang of blood was still in the air. With a little bit of maneuvering, my eyes rested on a long, newly formed pink scar on his arm.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “You had me worried for a while.” He started to disentangle himself from me, leaving a cold space where his body had been. My body ached with the desire to reach for him, to keep him close.

  “What happened to me?”

  The answer came from behind me. “Nøkkens draw blood to increase the emotional anguish in their victims. Anything that hurts them or makes them feel regret, sorrow, anger, comes out in waves. They feed off those as much as they feed off the love of humans. I should’ve warned you before you dove. I didn’t think the deal would go sour so fast. I apologize.”

  Seppo stood a little away from us. The swirls of tattoos around his ears and cheeks glowed dark sapphire in the little light.

  “You saved my life,” I said. “You went into the water when you knew it would hurt you, maybe kill you.”

  Seppo shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  “It is something,” Soren argued. “Thank you.”

  The tips of Seppo’s ears reddened. “Well, if both of you died, then I’d have no one to tell Lydian’s plans to. And then I’d be stuck going against him alone and then probably would die in a horrifying or painful way. Probably both. So, this is a better outcome.”

  I stiffened. Seppo had mentioned Lydian’s plan in his list of reasons not to hate him. I grumbled as it dawned on me that now he had another reason—he’d saved my life twice. Being in another’s debt was not something I enjoyed. “All goblins make plans on the Hunt. What makes Lydian any different?”

  Seppo looked over his shoulder, back at the churning water. He shuddered and faced us. “All goblins have plans during the Hunt, true. But I don’t think any of them have plans anything like his.”

  Soren raised his eyebrows. “And what are they?”

  Seppo gulped, and fear glistened in his dark blue eyes. “He wants to kill the stag.”

  “Every goblin wants to kill the stag.” Irritation colored Soren’s voice. “I doubt Lydian is different.”

  “No,” Seppo said. “You don’t understand. He wants to kill it for good so he can be Erlking for eternity.”

  15

  LYDIAN’S GAMBIT

  THE SILENCE WAS deafening, then Soren stood and paced. He reminded me of an animal trapped in a cage waiting for the correct moment to escape and rip out its captor’s throat. Pacing was not a sign of weakness for him.

  “That’s impossible,” I said, trying not to choke on my fear.

  “That’s what I thought too,” Seppo said. He looked over his shoulder, back toward the nøkken’s lair. The swirling water was green. “We need to get out of these caverns. I don’t think the nøkken is very happy. Which isn’t a surprise since they’re eternally depressed creatures. But still.”

  “That’s what we’ve been trying to do,” Soren grunted. “It’s a maze down here, though, and I’d rather not run into any more dragons.” Fear tinged his voice. I almost laughed. I spent a hundred years thinking nothing frightened this man, but I was wrong.

  “Well,” Seppo said, “you two haven’t been scouting this place for days.”

  For days? There was no way two groups of goblins had been able to linger in the mountains without detecting one another. The ambushers on the cliffsides must’ve detected Lydian’s group at some point, unless … my stomach turned sour. I’ll kill a thousand little goblin girls if I have to. Lydian’s crazed words now made much more sense.

  “You were the ambushers.” I turned on Seppo. “It’s your fault we’re in this mess in the first place!”

  Lydian was behind it all along. The mountainside ambush, my subsequent fall, and Rekke’s death were all his fault. The golden-eyed goblin girl should’ve lived. It wasn’t like she would’ve won. She barely had any power, but Lydian gutted her anyway.

  “How many of you are out here?” I narrowed my eyes, voice hard.

  Seppo put his hands up in a submissive motion. “Look, I’m not with them anymore. Promise.” He pulled out the stiletto he’d given me earlier. “Here, I took this to fight the nøkken. Take it back.”

  I snatched the weapon back, though unease still turned in my stomach. “You were the ones responsible for the ambush, for Rekke’s death.”

  “That’s how it is, Janneke.” There was sadness underneath Soren’s calm tone.

  “I thought you were on my side with this! We both knew she wasn’t going to win.” I turned and punched a rock wall, pain shot up my arm, and I clenched my wrist. “Go fuck the crows!”

  Seppo glanced at Soren. “Is she usually this…” He searched for the right word.

  “Finish that sentence, Satunpoika, and I will shove that feather staff up your ass,” I spat.

  “Yes,” Soren answered.

  I scowled. “So, you were the ones who attacked us. Have you been stalking us the whole time?”

  Seppo shook his head. “No, we were on the mountain for another reason.” A drop of sweat fell from his forehead as he hushed his anxious tone. “And it’s got to do with what I need to tell you.”

  I crossed my arms. “But there are more of you.”

  “More of them, yes,” Seppo said. “Lydian has about twenty-five, or well, I guess twenty-one men at his disposal. We have three.”

  “There is no ‘we,’” I growled.

  Soren stepped in between us. “All right, all right. I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but both of you just calm down. We need to get out of here, and we need to know what Lydian is planning. If he’s planning anything.” He shot a glance at Seppo. “I know when you lie to me.”

  Seppo rolled his eyes. “I’m all about cordiality.”

  Soren raised an eyebrow at me.

  I gave Seppo a withering look. “I won’t shove your feather staff up your ass.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Come on.” Soren sighed. “We shouldn’t stay here. The water is riling us up.” He headed for an opening in the chasm, one that glittered with blue light. “The darker the ice, the lower we are. I know that.”

  I followed, boosting myself up into the crack and squeezing in after Soren. Seppo was right on my tail, and for a long time we climbed up the dark, cold slit in silence. The sides soon opened up, and bright light dazzled me.

  The last ledge was within my reach, but when I stretched, the rock underneath my feet gave away. Before I could fall, Seppo dove ahead, catching me with his broad shoulders. “That’s three times now,” he said.

  “Are we counting?”

  “Yes.”

  I snorted with contempt, and with muscles burning, I flopped down onto the solid ground of a cliffside cave. Still wet from my swim, I was chilled to the bone from the arctic air. I rubbed my arms but nothing worked.

  Soren watched from where he sat, frowned, then came over and set me in his lap. One of his hands gently brushed back and forth over my shoulders.

  Heat rose from my body. It was so human. When I turned my questioning gaze to him, he smirked. “You’re cold. I’m not. We lost all our supplies.”

  Seppo eyed us with a mixture of disgust and curiosity. Glaring, I mouthed feather staff, and whatever he was about to sa
y died on his lips. Instead, he shook himself and said, “So, now that we’re all above ground and nice and cozy, let’s talk about Lydian.”

  “I can still push you off the cliff, you know.”

  Seppo’s eyes narrowed.

  “So, Lydian. What does my dear uncle have in store?” Soren’s voice was dark with fury. For all I knew about him, very little was about his relationship with his uncle. They hated each other as plain as day, but otherwise Lydian’s name was never spoken in the manor.

  I sat up, leaning slightly against Soren’s shoulders. Whatever happened, his scent of woodsmoke and pine needles calmed my restless heart. Lydian can’t hurt you. You’re so strong now.

  Soren purred. “You being close.” One of his hands wrapped around my waist. His fingers splayed and stroked the bare skin underneath my tunic, and I shivered in delight. “I like it. A little too much, I think, for this conversation.”

  “Sorry.” I began to straighten and move off him.

  “No, stay where you are. We can hear about the plotting of my horrific uncle and have our skin touch at the same time. I can multitask.”

  I almost laughed. If someone told me a year ago this would happen, I’d say they were absurd. But now, it was almost as if I were the absurd one. But the happiness would die a quick death if Lydian came anywhere near the throne, so I straightened despite Soren’s protest and leaned back against the dank cave wall.

  “Lydian,” I said. “What’s his game plan? How come you know it?”

  Seppo twisted his fingers around the fringes of his tunic. “Satu was originally invited to go along with him, but she declined. He’s been chasing her for years, and she figured even the dumbest goblin could figure out she meant no if she sent the son of her human lover. I agreed to go, mainly because when he’s not a raving lunatic, Lydian’s kinda fun to mess with.”

  Soren and I looked at each other. Part of me was horrified for Satu and what she dealt with; the other part was awed that Seppo enjoyed messing with someone whose very name made me quake in fear.