The Goblin King

by Shona Husk

  Eliza stepped back to let him pass. How long would she last before she gave in and became his queen to make for an easy life?

  “Wait,” she called.

  He stopped in the entrance but didn’t turn.

  She softened the order. Ordering him had achieved nothing. “Please.”

  The king turned. All that wild, barely contained fire was directed at her again. She stepped closer to the warmth, basking in the heat, while she searched for something to say that wouldn’t antagonize or open the unhealed wounds he thought he hid. She needed to know more about the man who’d helped her years ago, the Goblin King.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “One thousand nine hundred and fifty-one years.”

  The response was so fast she thought he knew to the day. “Alone?”

  This time he seemed to weigh his answer before speaking. “My men were cursed with me. But that’s not what you wanted to know, is it?”

  Eliza bit her lip. She wasn’t sure what she was asking, or why she couldn’t let him walk away, only that around him she felt different, like she was awake for the first time in years. Like she could breathe. Like all her wishes had been answered, but she didn’t understand what do to.

  “For the most part, yes, alone.”

  No friends or family or lovers. He just existed. It made her life look full, complete, and it was unless you stood in the middle and heard the echo. For a time her memory of him had filled that gap and she hadn’t felt lonely, because she’d known he was only a wish away. Even though his warning had kept her from ever calling him, the knowledge had been a comfort.

  She placed her hand over his chest where his heart should’ve been. She hoped something still hid there and that he would want more than the empty promise she had settled for with Steve. “You would take a queen who doesn’t love you. A queen you do not love?”

  His fingers clasped hers and he slid her hand beneath his shirt. Her palm rested against his skin. No heartbeat under her touch. No murmur of life teased her fingers.

  “You see? Nothing.” He crushed her hand against him. “I am incapable of loving anything but gold, my eternally unsatisfied mistress.”

  Eliza tugged on her hand, but he held her there trapped against him. Warm hands, no heart.

  How could this be the same man who’d helped her all those years ago? “Why me? Any woman could be your queen.” But she already knew the answer. She’d known him since she was a teenager. She’d seen the good he could do. She knew that despite his heart of gold he was capable of kindness…or had been. Now he was cold and selfish like a goblin should be.

  “You make me remember what it was to be human. I would rather die than become Hoard.”

  The king touched her face. His thumb brushed her cheek. Toe to toe, eye to eye, she held a hurricane by the hand. For a man with no heart, life ebbed around him in a constant swirl of energy that drew her in. She wanted to test the depth and strength of the current, but she knew once in she would never be able to step out.

  She was more alive here than she had ever been at home. At home, Steve sucked the joy out of living. Here, each second she still breathed was precious.

  “You will get used to life here. After a couple of hundred years maybe you will come to like me.” One finger traced her lip. “I need a queen. My mistress is a cold companion in bed.” He moved closer as if to kiss her.

  Eliza turned her head breaking the spell. “So am I.”

  “We’ll see.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

  Her breath caught at the grace of the simple movement. A smile fluttered over her lips. She was getting charmed by the snake.

  Warning bells sounded in her ears, ringing off the walls.

  The king dropped her hand and reached for his sword and then his gun. The noise wasn’t bells. It was the clash of metal on metal ricocheting off the rock walls. He turned from her and went towards the fight. She started to follow him down the tunnel, but he waved her back.

  She hesitated, unsure if she should obey or ignore him. Was he an enemy or just a desperate man, hoping she was his last chance at breaking the curse? Either way, if anything happened to him, she was in serious trouble. Right now he was her best shot at getting home. And at least he didn’t seem like he was going to hurt her. The Hoard goblins, on the other hand, would. She went after him. As she drew nearer she heard each scrape of metal, the grunts of the men fighting, and the high-pitched, inhumane hiss of something else. The sound slithered through her body and coiled around her heart.

  As if she were in a bad horror movie, she went on, knowing it would be wiser to run back to the bedroom and hide under the bed. The tunnel began to glow with a brilliant yellow sheen and she glimpsed the king disappearing into a cavern. Eliza cautiously peeked around the corner.

  Gold.

  A cavern big enough to fit a hotel in was piled with gold from pale to red to yellow. The room shone like a sun had crashed in the center of a mountain to give light to the creatures that hid in the shadows. Eliza squinted. The floor appeared to be tiled with coins. One wall was covered in carved amber panels. They were the only break in the endless gleam of gold. The king was bathed in the glow, and for a moment he stopped, as if transfixed by the sight of so much wealth in one location.

  Eliza stepped into the cavern. A gray-skinned man wielded a sword, guarding the treasure from Long Hair. The gray man’s ears lengthened as she watched, curling over at the top. His nose hooked, and his eyes yellowed like he was absorbing the gold into his very soul. In his beard were strands of gold.

  Empty Eyes.

  A gasp escaped from her. Eliza clapped her hand over her mouth, too late. The king turned. Before his eyes cleared she saw the lust for gold that blinded him to everything else.

  “It’s mine. I claim it.” The goblin’s voice broke as he spoke. The man had been swallowed by goblin greed.

  The king flinched, but he kept his eyes on her.

  The ring of swords jarred every breath.

  “Enough, brother. Step back.” The king turned just enough to see if Long Hair, his brother, obeyed.

  His brother still circled the goblin that used to be Empty Eyes. His skin was duller and his eyes brighter. “It’s our gold.”

  “Step back!” the king roared. “He is Hoard. It is too late,” he added so quietly that Eliza only just heard the words. The king’s eyes glistened, but not with the need for gold. He lifted the gun.

  Long Hair looked from the king to the gold. He grimaced as if unsure what to do. They couldn’t fight for the gold without becoming goblin, yet they couldn’t walk away from it either.

  Her stomach became a dead weight. “You’re going to kill him.”

  The king spoke, his lips barely moving, “We took a vow. A warrior would rather die than live like that.” The king turned from her. He aimed even though his brother still blocked the shot.

  Eliza pulled her earring out, a simple gold and diamond creation. A gift from Steve. “I have gold.” She held out the tiny jewel, knowing it could never compete with the golden Taj Mahal in the room. “Would you like to see?”

  The king’s long-haired brother blinked and stepped towards her. His skin brightened as his eyes lost their yellow glow. The crack of gunfire resonated around the room. Eliza ducked, her hands covering her ears. A cold, metallic smell clogged her mouth and sucked the moisture from her tongue.

  She looked up to see the king catch the goblin before he fell to the ground. He cradled the goblin that had once been a man in his arms. Their heads were tucked together, but the king shook with each breath. His fingers smoothed the gray mottled skin. She didn’t need to understand the words to know that the Goblin King was begging for forgiveness.

  ***

  Steven placed the suit on his bed. He’d sworn never to buy off the rack again when he’d started working for Gunn and Coulter. He was not Joe Average. His lips thinned into a smile. He was smarter than that. And he had the bank account to pr
ove it. The police would never find anything to pin on him. All the evidence pointed to Eliza—and she was his weak link.

  Eliza had reduced him to this cheap suit.

  He placed a tie worth more than the suit on the bed. Tailoring would take weeks. Every suit he owned was now only fit for rags. Rage simmered in his blood, but he pressed it down. There would be time for that later. He had to get her back before he could exact his revenge.

  And he would make her pay for the inconvenience of calling the police and having them traipse through the house, trawling for evidence. He changed his clothes and checked his appearance in the mirror. The suit hung off his shoulders with no more grace than it had on the coat hanger. Steven took off the jacket. It was better to be cold than to be photographed in an ill-fitting suit.

  Eliza’s little game had gone on long enough. A kidnapper would have sent a ransom note by now. Every schmuck knew what Eliza Coulter was worth. Her trust fund was enough to make most men look twice. What he wanted was more basic. Her name. Slade forever linked with the biggest political, and legal, family in the state.

  The PI he’d hired had found nothing, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hiding, trying to force his hand or make him trip. A breath hissed out between Steven’s teeth. If he stumbled, she was going down with him. He was beginning to regret ever telling her. Eliza was becoming more of a liability than an asset.

  He picked up the phone ready to act the worried, loving partner. Thirty minutes later the police were taping off the house. The Mobile Police Facility was parked out front. If the neighbors weren’t already talking, they would be now. The newspaper reporter snapped photos. Steven did his best distraught fiancé shuffle as the police escorted him to the station to be interviewed.

  They asked the same questions. New questions. Only one question.

  Where was Eliza?

  He honestly had no idea. And that scared him. Eliza was beyond his control.

  Chapter 5

  Dai, the king’s brother, sat at the table with Eliza. He’d introduced himself as he’d claimed her earring and then withdrawn into silence. She’d leaned an important lesson. Never offer a goblin gold unless you were prepared to part with it.

  “Has this happened before?” Her skin was cold. Trying to coax Dai into conversation was better than watching him toy with a small knife and her earring.

  He pointed at the three swords on the wall.

  “There were six. He’s killed three of you?” After the shooting they’d been banished from the gold room. Eliza had been glad to leave. She wasn’t sure if it was a murder or a mercy killing, only that she’d seen a part of the Goblin King she was sure he’d rather keep hidden. Losing a man had wounded him. His golden heart wasn’t as cold as she’d thought. What else did he hide?

  Dai drove the tip of the knife into the table where it quivered but stayed upright. “No, the druid killed us when he laid the curse.” Pain rolled beneath the dark seas of his eyes. She would rather face the endless heat in Roan’s eyes than drown in Dai’s.

  “He shot—”

  “Anfri was already gone. His soul was freed. What Roan did was a blessing. Meryn still runs with the Hoard.” Dai snorted and shook his head, his loose hair falling over his shoulders. “Back then we didn’t know. He gave up so quick. One day he was human, the next…now I doubt he thinks of anything but bloody metal.” Dai stood, grabbed his knife, and slid it into his vest with its five identical siblings. “Don’t judge Roan by one bullet.”

  Every time she closed her eyes she saw him fire. The flash of the muzzle, the smell of the shot. Her heart lurched, diving into her stomach. If Dai remained loyal after murder, he wouldn’t defy the king and take her home.

  She sighed and asked the question that had so far remained unanswered. Her mother’s tale of a greedy man wishing for gold seemed too simple. The Goblin King had hoarded gold the way goblins do, but he wanted to be human. He wanted the curse to be broken. Maybe if she understood she could help him. Then they would be even. No more debts between them and she could go home. “Why were you cursed?”

  “I wasn’t. Roan was. We just came for the ride.” He placed his hands on the back of her chair. His hair fell around her like a curtain.

  “What do you mean?” She spoke without turning.

  Dai was too close. Anger and hurt rolled off him and burst like raindrops on her skin.

  “You want to see what happened, want to know why we deserved this punishment?” He pulled her chair back and spun her around to face him.

  Eliza nodded since saying no would’ve been pointless.

  “Follow me.” He led her towards the cave entrance.

  Eliza stopped. “No. I’m not going out there again.”

  What other nightmares would surge forth to attack her? Would every stray thought come to life?

  Dai took her wrist and tugged her over the threshold.

  “No, please.” She clawed at his fingers.

  “Relax. I’m not going to torment you with your nightmares. My creations are much more fun and educational.” He sucked in a breath and lifted his hand. Dust swirled, drawn up by an unfelt wind.

  “You control it like him.”

  “No. Not like Roan. He has the power to make anyone’s dreams into nightmares and nightmares into reality. I can only call my memories, my fears, my nightmares.”

  The starless twilight sky glowered over them as out of the dust a clearing in a forest was born. Twenty men filled the space.

  She took a step back, expecting one of the sword bearers to turn and attack.

  “It’s not real. It’s kind of like 3-D TV but without the glasses.” Dai walked around the scene.

  “You get TV here?”

  “No. We go to the cinema.” He glanced at her. “Plenty of shadows to hide in, no one knows we’re there.”

  Right. She was never sitting at the back of a theater again, just in case. Eliza followed Dai around his living memory. The men all wore swords and cloaks, fighting men—warriors. It was like watching a foreign film with a soundtrack she could only guess and no subtitles. Watching the men speak, listening, she realized it was the same language the three men had used. A language too beautiful to be Goblinese. The lilt and fall of the words wrapped around the furtive whispers in the night. She looked again at their clothing.

  “You were Celtic?”

  Dai smiled and nodded. “Decangli.”

  This wasn’t a casual meeting. The need for secrecy spread like mist. She was eavesdropping on something she shouldn’t hear. No living human should get to re-examine history, but it was a hard offer to refuse.

  “What are they saying?” Eliza found herself whispering as if the recreated dead could hear.

  “We’d planned a rebellion against the Romans that had taken up residence on our land. It was all set.” Dai closed his eyes and listened as if he were hearing a symphony.

  Eliza moved closer to the image, towards a man wrapped in a blue and red plaid cloak. His golden torque winked in the firelight. “Is that—”

  Dai opened his eyes. “Roan?”

  She nodded. “That’s the king’s name?”

  “Is that the name he gave you?”

  The king hadn’t given her anything except more nightmares. There weren’t enough lights in her house to chase away the darkness he brought.

  “No. He’s not given me a name.”

  “Then stick with king. It is his rightful title, even then.” Dai sighed. “He was a good king. He lived to remove the Roman stain and to continue our father’s fight.”

  A man in a white robe stood. He pointed his finger and spoke. An argument flew between Roan and the druid. The words became jagged and rough. Four men stood up, siding with their king, followed by Dai with his hair cut short, Roman style. The six.

  A lump formed in her stomach, sticky and heavy like uncooked dough, and grew with each passing second. “What happened?”

  Dai held up his hand. “Shh. Wait.”

  Roan’s hand brus
hed the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw. The druid grabbed the pouch from Roan and held it up for all to see, then drew out some coins. His words cut through the night, even though Eliza couldn’t understand the language. Eliza’s skin prickled as she felt the power in the words without understanding their meaning.

  Roan fell to his knees, clutching his torque. His men fell with him all gasping for breath. They were suffocating. The image went black and disintegrated.

  Eliza ran forward. “What happened?” She looked around hoping something or someone would appear out of the dust and give her the answer.

  “We lost consciousness and woke up here.” Dai swept his hand around like he was offering a sumptuous view, not the gray, twisted landscape of the Shadowlands. “Along with the druid. Because of his hatred, the magic trapped him here as well… and he’s been trying to finish us off ever since.”

  The man who’d cursed them was also here and trying to kill them. She glanced across the empty landscape and suppressed a shiver. “Why did the druid curse Roan? What had he done?”

  “Roan, myself, and the others lived in the Roman city. The Romans liked pet kings. We were the eyes and ears of the rebellion. I found out that the general had heard of our planned attack. They were ready, waiting, laughing. Attacking would have been suicide. Instead of meeting to finalize preparations, Roan tried to stop them.”

  That made sense, if it was meant to be a surprise attack. “The druid didn’t like that?”

  “He accused Roan of selling out to the Romans, of taking their gold instead of leading his people.”

  Eliza frowned. He didn’t seem like the kind of king who’d trade lives for gold. Anfri’s death had cut him, and he’d refused her offer of ransom. “Did he?”

  “No. By the time the rebellion realized the truth, they lay dying in the mud and gore.” Dai spat out the words. “Now you know who we were and what we’ll become. Do with it what you will.” Dai walked back to the cave.