by Janni Nell
I started to protest that they weren’t my allies, but he made a talk-to-the-hand gesture that had me longing to throw another punch. Since my hands were tied, I selected option number two and tried to win him over with major sucking up.
“Please, great leader,” I said. At least that’s what I thought I’d said until his eyebrows drew together in a V. V for victim, namely me. Too late I realized I’d called him a girly leader.
He slapped his hand on his chest. “I am King Kanu. A great and powerful leader.”
King, eh? I thought a bit of kowtowing might make amends for insulting him, but when I bowed, I accidently head-butted a guard and all hell broke loose again.
When everyone calmed down, I licked blood from my lip and said, “Please, King Kanu, tell me why you fight mers.”
“What do you care? By sundown you’ll be in my belly.” That’s when I noticed the hole in the ground that was being filled with firewood. Uh-oh, a cooking pit.
Checking the sky for Casper, who was nowhere in sight, I said, “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t burn me alive.”
“We aren’t savages,” said King Kanu. “We’ll kill you before we tie you to the spit.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
“Do I get last request?”
King Kanu seemed surprised. Maybe no one had asked before. He steepled his fingers, milking the tension with a long silence before replying, “Yes. You may have a last request. But don’t ask to be set free.”
Damn. He was way ahead of me. Abandoning my preferred last request, I settled for second choice. “Tell me why you fight the mers.”
King Kanu seemed to admire my persistence. “Very well,” he said. “Come into my palace.” He strode toward the large hut with the figureheads beside the door. Even with my hands tied, I figured I could overpower him once we were alone inside the hut but, once again, he was way ahead of me. He ordered four guards to accompany us inside. That’s right—four to keep him safe from me. I took that as a compliment.
“Sit,” said King Kanu, indicating the beautiful wooden chairs and benches, which must surely have been salvaged from a luxury yacht. I wondered whether the owners had ended up in King Kanu’s belly.
Thankfully there were no shrunken heads or old bones decorating the walls of his palace, although there were three ceramic ducks, a macramé hanging basket and a framed poster of Barry Manilow c. 1978. Maybe King Kanu wasn’t as bad as I’d suspected.
He snapped his fingers to attract my attention. “You will sit.” When I didn’t immediately obey, the biggest guard laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, pressing hard until I stopped resisting and sat. Before he released me, he gave my shoulder a hard pinch.
“Hey. No need to get rough.” I tried to shrug him off, but he held on tight.
King Kanu said, “Release her, Narfu. You’re bruising our dinner.”
Narfu risked another pinch before obeying his king and releasing me. My chair wobbled with the sudden movement and the water-damaged wood creaked, threatening to collapse under me.
At an order from King Kanu, a female goblin appeared wearing cut-off jeans and a T-shirt with a printed slogan. She carried a tarnished silver tray laden with food. Fresh fruit mingled with salvaged items like nuts (salted), tomatoes (sun-dried) and olives (stuffed). I wondered whether they stuffed their human meals.
“Eat. Eat,” said King Kanu. “It will flavor your meat.” Apparently I was a self-stuffing meal.
Unfortunately for King Kanu and the rest of the tribe, I didn’t feel much like eating. I pretended to nibble an olive, but that was mainly to avoid more shoulder pinching. King Kanu didn’t share my lack of appetite. He was hand-fed by the female, whose T-shirt neatly summed up my situation with the slogan: shit happens, although there was nothing shitty about her service to King Kanu. When olive oil dribbled from his mouth, she wiped it away with her finger. When he complained of thirst, she poured from a bottle of twenty-year-old wine. When he’d burped and declared he’d had enough, she began massaging his shoulders. When I grow up, I want to be a goblin king.
King Kanu said, “Now I will tell you how the war began. This story was told to me by my grandfather, who was five years old when the mers betrayed us. In those days, the Tikini-kai traded with all our Kai neighbors, and even with the mers, who gave us fishing rights in return for the hibiscus flowers they loved to eat.”
“Interesting,” I said.
“Don’t interrupt,” he growled. I’d have liked to make a smartass reply but I didn’t know the language well enough. Heck, I could barely follow what he was saying. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Frustrated with the stupid human.
“Where was I? Ah, yes.” He opened his eyes. “If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll remember that my grandfather was five years old. He was the youngest of the king’s four children. As the only boy, he had been the center of attention until the eldest of his sisters turned twenty, which is the age a goblin princess marries. Princess Melani was a great beauty. We still sing the old songs…” Suddenly I was in a Tikini-Kai musical. King Kanu’s voice was surprisingly good. His guards swayed as he sang, “‘With hair as dark as a moonless night, And eyes as red as sunset delight, Tikini Princess lovely girl, Tikini Princess precious pearl.’” I wanted to hurl.
When King Kanu had finished his number, he got on with the story. “There was great rejoicing when Princess Melani was betrothed to a prince of the Talini-kai tribe. Like all royal marriages, it was a political union, but it was also a genuine love match. My grandfather liked to grumble about how he was forgotten in the rush to prepare his sister’s dowry.
“After months of preparation, the wedding party was ready to set out for Talini Island. The king and queen wore their finest ceremonial garments. The symbol of kingship, the great Star of Light, was brought from its secret hiding place and put in the pouch around the king’s neck.
“Twenty vessels set out. In the first of them, the king, queen and Princess Melani traveled with their rowers and the dowry. Further back, the young prince, my grandfather, traveled with his other sisters. The mers had promised the Tikini-kai safe passage across the ocean. To thank them, my people brought thousands of hibiscus flowers, stripped from every bush on our island.
“The flowers covered the sea, but the mers were not satisfied. They wanted the dowry chest and the only way to get it was to capsize Princess Melani’s canoe. The young prince saw his parents and Princess Melani fall into the ocean. When his sisters realized the wedding party was under attack, they ordered their rowers to head for shore. The young prince screamed in protest. He wanted to fight like those in the other vessels. But his sisters knew their first duty was to protect the male heir.
“Out of twenty canoes, the only one to reach land belonged to the prince and his sisters. From the safety of a tiny beach, they saw the mers drown Princess Melani and their mother, the queen. They saw the Star of Light ripped from their father’s neck and his body dragged beneath the waves. “The young prince, my grandfather, vowed he would never forgive the mers for their betrayal. He swore that he would not rest until the Star of Light was restored to his people. My father and I continue the fight in his name. My son will continue after I am gone.”
King Kanu had taken his time telling the story and my bum was aching. When I wriggled on my chair, it wobbled dangerously.
Regaining my balance, I asked, “What is the Star of Light?”
“My grandfather described it as a star trapped inside a rock. On ceremonial occasions, it was worn by the king. At other times it was kept in a secret hiding place known only to a few members of the royal family. The star brings peace and prosperity to our people.” King Kanu touched the empty pouch around his neck. “It was given to the Tikini-kai by the gods of the reef.”
Delving deep into my Goblin vocab
ulary, I said, “Great kings begin wars. Greater kings end them.”
He fell silent. Had I got through to him? Would he consider himself a greater king than his predecessors? Not a chance.
“The greatest kings,” he said, “fight until their property is returned.”
“But…” I tried to find a comfortable position on the chair. It protested and creaked, and finally collapsed, sending me sprawling on the floor.
King Kanu began to laugh. His advisers laughed too. It all sounded a bit fake, a bit Bond villain meets Dr. Evil.
When King Kanu got tired of channeling Dr. Evil, he said, “I like you. You’re funny. To show my appreciation, I’ll give you a gift.”
Top of my wish list was stopping the war, but since that wasn’t going to happen, and since Casper hadn’t appeared, I ventured, “Set me free?”
He laughed again. “It’s good to die with humor and courage. I truly wish I could set you free, but my people need meat.” When I began to explain the benefits of a vegetarian diet, he held up a hand to silence me. “Goblins can’t survive without some form of flesh. We prefer fish, of course, but there are few left in the waters surrounding Tikini Island, and the war with the Mers makes fishing in the wider ocean difficult and dangerous.”
“I could get you some fish. If you let me go—”
King Kanu wasn’t listening. He’d returned to his favorite subject: eating me. “Usually we kill our food before it is cooked, but because I like you, I’ll give you the honor of cooking you alive.”
“That’s very generous, but really I can’t accept.”
“I insist.”
King Kanu ordered his guards to take me outside, where the females had finished preparing the cooking pit. The metal spit looked brand new and King Kanu told me they’d recently salvaged it from a shipwreck. I would be the first to be roasted on it. He seemed to think this an even greater honor than being roasted alive.
The guards handed me over to the female goblins, who took me to a wooden tub filled with herb-scented water. After cutting away my clothes and the bandage on my toe, they bound my ankles and lifted me in. Bright petals were strewn on the surface. It was almost like being at Lily’s favorite day spa until they added something that smelled like garlic and started massaging it into my skin. I tried to wriggle away, but the cooks didn’t give up until I was thoroughly seasoned. I was left to marinate while the tribe brought out drums and reed instruments. Anyone who wasn’t playing an instrument got up to dance. Under other circumstances I’d have got up with them, but I wasn’t in the mood for dancing. I was in the mood for escaping. Where was Casper? Okay, I’d told him not to arrive too soon, but he seemed to be taking that too literally. Or maybe he’d taken a quick trip to Papeete, hooked up with the dark-haired woman and forgotten all about me.
I swore in Witch, a language that has the best swear words, and decided not to wait for Casper. Taking matters into my own hands, I worked at freeing my wrists. The oil the cooks had rubbed into my skin helped and it didn’t take long to release my hands and get to work on my ankles. When they were free, I climbed out of the tub and crawled toward the jungle. I wished I wasn’t stark naked, but the females had already divided my clothes between them. They were parading around to the music showing off. They even had my phone, which I’d stupidly brought with me.
Telling myself it was better to be naked than captured, I slunk into the jungle. Up to this point I’d been careful not to make too much noise, but once I’d left the clearing, I gave up any pretense at silence and sprinted toward the coast. I hardly felt the sticks and stones beneath my feet or the ferns slapping my bare butt. I was making great progress until my ankle twisted and I fell flat on my belly. When I scrambled to my feet, I came face-to-face with the point of an arrow.
Narfu jerked me to my feet. He squeezed my butt like he was testing it for fat content.
“I hope you choke on me,” I said in English.
He might not understand the words, but he totally got my insulting tone, and gave me a cuff around the ear. One of the other guards told him not to damage the meat. They bound my wrists and ankles again and carried me back to the clearing. No chance of getting away this time. All I could do was wait for Casper.
While I waited, I viewed my mental memory stick of family photos. Mostly they were of my niece, Little Allegra—kicking her chubby legs in a shallow bath, or nursing contentedly at Lily’s breast, or dribbling milk onto a bib. Or just sleeping contentedly on my shoulder, wrapped in a pink blanket.
I’d intended to stick around to keep her safe, so I was a teeny bit pissed off when the guards carried me to the fire pit. After fastening my wrists and ankles to the spit, they hoisted it over the low flames. The day was already hot and it didn’t take long for drops of sweat to slide off my forehead and sizzle into the fire. To take my mind off being burned alive, I thought of ice cream and snow and walking barefoot in Antarctica. It didn’t help.
The wood crackled and spit. The Tikini-kai gathered in a circle around the flames singing what I swear was a goblin-version of “Kumbaya.” From my position hanging over the fire, they all looked upside down. Blood rushed to my head. My wrists tingled with pins and needles. Below me the fire flared up as though it had been puffed with bellows.
“Ouch,” I yelped, as it touched my bare skin. Where was Casper?
I scanned the sky, which was easy from my upside down position. I saw clouds and a flock of birds and trails of smoke from the fire, but no Casper. Where the fuck was he? The fire was getting hotter. If he didn’t get here soon I’d be toast. Literally.
He had never failed to show up before, even if he had a habit of timing his entrances to the eleventh hour. Trouble was, it was already past twelve. What was holding him up? A lapse of memory? A broken wing? A date with the dark-haired woman?
Lately I’d been taking him for granted and now I was paying the price. I’d become so used to relying on him to get me out of danger, I’d forgotten how to rely on myself. Not that I had much chance against a whole tribe of goblins, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try. I wriggled my wrists, trying to loosen the bonds, but all I got was chafed wrists. The ropes just got tighter. Even Houdini would have yelled for scissors.
I yelled, but not for scissors. “Casper!”
The crackle of the flames drowned out my voice. I smelled singed hair. King Kanu licked his lips. I knew Casper wouldn’t leave me to die. Or did I? His previous morsub, a cop, had died in a hail of bullets. Casper hadn’t been able to save her.
I fought my bonds, screaming in English at King Kanu, “I hope I give you indigestion for the rest of your life, asshole.”
From my upside-down position I saw movement in the jungle. A man—I mean a human, not a male goblin—leaped into the clearing. It was the guy from the marina. He lifted his state-of-the-art rifle and fired over the goblins’ heads.
Relief washed over me as his New York accent rang out. “Untie her.”
“They can’t understand you,” I said. Quickly I translated his words into Goblin. When nobody moved, I yelled, “Come on. Untie me. Or he kill you.”
A few goblins turned toward King Kanu, as though awaiting instruction. Marina Man pointed his gun at the king’s head. “Tell them to untie her.” This time I didn’t need to translate. Giving me a death stare, King Kanu ordered his people to remove me from the spit.
They took their time, choosing to undo the knots with their fingers rather than cutting my bonds. Maybe they hoped King Kanu would work out a way to defeat Marina Man, but he had no chance. A rifle trumps arrows every time.
At last I was free. Marina Man told me to head for the jungle. He followed, walking backward, keeping his gun aimed at King Kanu. When we were concealed by the foliage, he said, “Run.”
From the clearing King Kanu’s voice rang out. “Narfu. Follow them. Bring them back alive—or d
ead. Your choice.”
Glancing back, I saw a hoard of goblins coming after us. Some of them lifted their bows and took aim. Marina Man urged me to go faster. Easy for him to say. He wasn’t barefoot.
Clenching my teeth, I picked up speed making good time until I trod on something sharp and went down on one knee. An arrow whizzed over my head. Marina Man turned and fired his rifle. Several goblins dropped, which was strange since he’d only fired once.
Marina Man pulled me to my feet. “Come on. We’re almost at the beach.”
I risked one last glance over my shoulder. Goblins were dropping like blossom fairies who’d been sipping fermented nectar. It was almost as though an invisible hand was taking them out one by one. I didn’t think about the implications of that. There’s no time to think when you’re running for your life. Just that glance over my shoulder slowed me down. Marina Man yelled, “Don’t stop now.”
Ignoring the discomfort of running barefoot, I kept going. I’d figured I was pretty fit, but my rescuer was in peak condition. By the time we reached the beach he was barely panting. I was gasping and battling a stitch in my side. Refusing to let me rest, Marina Man pulled me across the burning sand. We sprinted toward his motorized dinghy, which was anchored offshore. Wading through the shallows didn’t take long and soon we were scrambling aboard. As we sped across the water, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it to me. A bit late considering he’d already copped an eyeful of my naked body, but it was the thought that counted, right? I wriggled into the soft material that smelled of expensive cologne, sunblock and…well, Marina Man. When I was no longer naked, I was free to concentrate on other things like, “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
“Competing in biathlons.”
“Impressive.” I didn’t attempt to hide my admiration, but Marina Man wasn’t flattered.
“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “I didn’t make the Olympic team.”
“You should have. You saved my life. Did Casper send you?”
“Who’s Casper?” He seemed genuinely confused. “Is he that blond guy at the marina? Why would he send me?”