She sat, and after only a moment’s observation, followed the example of everyone else in the hall and helped herself to a steaming pile of honeyed-hotcakes, and several different spoonfuls of berries of like and color she’d never before seen, but which smelled so delicious her mouth watered with the mere hint of them. Cakes and biscuits, fruits and puddings, she had never piled a plate so high her in life, and yet there was more abundance the more she took.
Her mother’s warning echoed in her mind about not ever taking food from the fey, and then she thought of her sister in the Goblin Market. Kothar had called Christina a greedy little pig, devouring that which was not hers.
“Try the drakeberries,” Sylvanus said, as though he sensed her apprehension.
Her mother’s warning faded, as she realized that life among those faerie people was already more warming and comfortable than the world above. In fact, the only thing she had worth living for up there, or so it seemed, was her sister, and now Christina was lost.
Meredith helped herself to the drakeberries. She turned to pass the dish to her right when she noted from the corner of her eye that Him had returned. He held an elaborately carved box in his hands, which he turned over to Sylvanus, seating himself in the chair across from Meredith. Sir Gwydion had returned with him, and sat down on his left, barely regarding Meredith at all.
“It’s been ages since you’ve had such a fine feast, brother.” Him took a honey-drizzled biscuit onto his plate, breaking it open with his fingers so he could spread orange jam inside.
“It’s been even longer since we’ve had such a fine occasion,” Sylvanus pointed out. “The Fates do not lie,” he went on. “The journey which lies ahead for Meredith will bring about great change in our world of the like we haven’t seen in centuries.”
“Your confidence in me is inspiring,” she said, leaning in to fill her cup with steaming, nectar sweetened tea. “While I do understand my evident connection, my sole task is still saving my sister and returning her Upland where she belongs.”
“Perhaps, but even so small a task holds volumes of power of the like you may never understand,” Sylvanus said. “Think of a single trickle of water, a single drop on stone falling day after day—it has the power to wear the stone away, changing the faces of mountains every time it rains.”
“My brother.” Him held up his cup in tribute. “The great philosopher.”
An awkward grin drew at the corners of Sylvanus’s mouth. He folded his hands together atop the table and stared down at them for a long time in what seemed like an act of humble embarrassment.
“No need for ceremonies, Him,” he said. “It is a simple statement of truth, and nothing more. Besides, Meredith is our guest of honor, let us pay tribute to her.”
Him’s eyes were already on her, she realized, his cup still raised, only now in her direction. “I’ll drink to her.”
Several others around raised their glasses and the attention made Meredith feel giddy and nervous. She wanted to believe Sylvanus when he claimed that her task of saving Christina would do wonders for them all, but the part of her still grounded firmly in Upland reality back at the cottage clung tight to her mind and made it impossible to completely give in. She grinned and looked away, but Sylvanus would have none of her modesty.
“Meredith, we have waited for this day for so long. We watched the stars, read the signs, and there is no doubt we are on the cusp of long overdo change. Today you embark on a dangerous journey, a journey from which you may not return, but my portents tell me otherwise. Our seers long ago predicted this quest. Your arrival was their first prophecy, and here you are. The nature of your journey, though clouded, is very real. They claimed only that you would appear seeking that which was unlawfully taken, and I believe it was the taking of your sister that brought you back to our world.”
Meredith swallowed, the soft cake she’d been eating sticking in her throat. A series of knowing chills traced the curve of her spine, as she reached for a drink. Despite that certainty, she couldn’t help fearing he might be wrong, that she wasn’t the prophesized one, come to set the wheels of change in motion. She would hate to disappoint Sylvanus, especially after he’d been so kind.
Those who had no ear for such adventures chattered on amicably through the hall, but many seated around the table Sylvanus headed silenced their seat-mates and drew close to listen.
“Like tumblers in a lock, everything has fallen into place, Meredith. My own brother has a part to play in all of this, though the nature of that role has never been divulged to him. He arrived here with you, and it is with Him that you shall leave this place. Him must guide you through the most perilous parts of your journey. His entire life he has been in training for this task.”
She glanced across the table to see Him’s face grow longer with mingled excitement and disbelief. “I knew it,” he murmured.
“You knew no such thing.” Sir Gwydion’s gaze darted upward as he shook his small head. “Your intuition is about as in tune as a wildebeest.”
“Brother, you know the prophecies like the back of your hand. Please tell me there is no part for Sir Garrulous here to play in this quest.”
A bemused grin tightened Sylvanus’s features. “I’m afraid Sir Gwydion’s role is but a small one. He will see you both to the bridge between our world and his. Upon reaching the bridge, the choice is his, but he is not on any order to go further.”
Inklings of the foolish and stubborn girl she’d been yesterday still hunkered in the back of her mind. She’d been an independent force all her life, and she wanted to protest that she could handle things alone, but she was smart enough to know that she could not. Kothar had made that clear early on. She would never make it to the Darknjan Wald alone, much less beyond the first rows of trees.
There was also part of her that did not even want to imagine walking away from Him now that they had met.
“I welcome their aid and their company.” She did not look away from Sylvanus, even though she could feel the heat of Him’s stare.
“Then it is settled.” Sylvanus leaned back in his chair and reached beside him for the box Him brought into the hall. “I have one final gift for you to take on your long journey. When or where it will come in handy, I know not, but I am certain it will be of great use to you.”
Sylvanus pushed the delicately carved box across the table so it sat in front of her, and Meredith look toward Him for some kind of hint. Him’s eyes were as wide and fascinated as hers. She traced a curious fingertip over the patterns on the box, ancient symbols not unlike the ones that adorned the faces of the elders and decorated the wood of every home and building in the village.
She tried to read them, but her memory strained with the task, so instead she carefully lifted the lid away. A gasp escaped her, reaction to the beauty the lay shining before her.
It was a gold and silver mask, wide-eyed and with sharply carved beak. Golden owl feathers hung on each side, and elm leaves lined the feathers. Awed by its unique and delicate beauty, she hesitated, though she wanted to lift it from the box and examine it with all her senses. For a moment, she didn’t dare, and her self-consciousness was exaggerated by the hush that fell over the busy hall and the pointed focus of all eyes on her.
“Behold,” Sylvanus announced, “the Mask of Truth.”
“I…” Meredith’s voice caught in the back of her throat, her thoughts failing to complete in her mind. “It’s beautiful.” No, she thought. Beautiful was too trite a compliment. It was beyond beautiful. It was ethereal, otherworldly.
“It is no small secret that many falsities await you on your journey. The prophecies say that in your greatest moment of doubt, the Mask of Truth will bring you back to yourself, and give you the glimpse of certainty you need to carry on.”
Chattering voices broke in small waves throughout the crowded hall, dispelling the silence. Meredith couldn’t concentrate on a single voice, but she didn’t have to. She understood their fearful excitement perfectly.<
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“But… how will I…”
Sylvanus laid a hand over her forearm to quell her doubt. “Use it wisely, and listen to your heart for the right time to adorn yourself with it.”
Meredith swallowed, hardly aware of the nodding movement of her head.
“Him, I have a gift for you as well,” Sylvanus rose from the table and walked to the entranceway where he spoke pointedly with one of the Dælicti. The guardian soldier turned out of the hall, and then reentered with a worn scabbard in his hand. Sylvanus gripped the hilt of the sword that rested in that sheath and drew the long shaft into the morning light. “This was our father’s sword,” he explained. “Though you barely knew him, it was his wish that you carry it on your most perilous of journeys.”
Him rose and accepted the sword without words. He drew it upright in front of him, his free hand trembling along the edge. Meredith watched him, her heart doubling its rhythm when she noticed the shimmer of tears edging his eyes.
“Our father was a great warrior,” his voice was barely a current of wind in a rushing tunnel of sound. She had to strain her ears to hear him. “I can only hope to honor his memory through my deeds.”
He bowed his head, and Sylvanus laid a hand on his shoulder. “He would have been proud of you,” he said.
The muscles of Him’s throat tightened as he swallowed, his reply a curt nod before he re-sheathed the sword and stepped away from his brother. Him returned to the table and resumed his seat, and Meredith watched him until he lifted his gaze to meet with hers.
Instinct prompted her to look away, but she battled it, the bravest part of her fighting to maintain his stare. She shuddered, a rippling chill moving through her entire body one muscle at a time, but still she refused to look away. Face warm, all memory of the morning’s dream dancing through her thoughts while they held onto that strange, enchanted moment, and then Sylvanus spoke aloud, breaking the power of their shared experience.
He addressed the room then, retelling the prophecy of the princess’s return and the reuniting of the two kingdoms to the entire village congregation. “It is my belief that this is the portent we have been waiting for, that brighter days are on their way back to us, and it is only a matter of time before the darkness recedes and our realm is restored to its perfect beauty.”
By the end of his speech, the villagers chattered cheerfully, a sense of hope circulating throughout the hall and lifting the spirits of everyone.
Meredith tried to return her attention to the food on her plate, but a nervous excitement gripped her stomach, and she wound up just pushing her breakfast around while thoughts about what lie ahead circulated through her mind.
When breakfast was finished, the need to embark on the journey ahead signaled Meredith to reflect on the weight of responsibility that now lay on her shoulders. It was easy to say that she was only in it to save and return her sister Upland, but how could she not do everything in her power to try to make right the wrongs centuries of war had wrought on the people around her? Her heart felt sick with the notion of responsibility, and she pushed the plate away from her, no longer hungry at all.
As if he sensed her apprehension and discomfort, Him pushed the plate back in front of her and in a soft voice said, “You’ll need your strength, Lady. It is a long road which lies ahead of us.”
She raised her stare to meet with his and found contentment and understanding. The tightness in her center softened, and she reached for her fork again.
After breakfast everyone gathered to see the travelers off, and to offer blessing. Niliel brought forth tightly packed satchels filled with provisions, while the few remaining elders gathered around to offer Meredith and Him advice and favor. As the hands passed over her, flashes of her other life pulsed through memory, but none of them strong enough to grasp.
At last, as the elders moved away, Sylvanus stepped up to meet her. His serious face seemed older than before as his full mouth stretched into a tight, somber grin. He braced her shoulders in his hands and studied her face for a long time. His eyes were more familiar to her than they had ever been, as flickers of a boy she’d known in another lifetime ebbed at the corners of memory.
He leaned in and touched his mouth to her cheek, whispering, “Please don’t pressure yourself with the weight of our world.” He drew back to take her in again. “It is as it is, and I know that whatever choices you and Him make, it will see our world right again. Take my blessing, and keep my brother well.”
Him interjected, “I will see to my own skin, thank you very much.” He stepped forward to embrace his brother. “And do my best to see to hers as well.”
“Then she will be in good hands." He gave a hearty pat to Him’s shoulder as they parted. “Sir Gwydion, should you reach the Wald and find yourself compelled to follow them inside it, my blessing goes with you.”
Sir Gwydion bowed at the waist, “My Lord.”
Niliel stepped in and embraced Meredith with warmth and acceptance. “May the sun light even the darkest of paths, and see you successfully to the end of your journey.”
As she retreated, Meredith’s hand lingered on her arm, “Thank you, Niliel. I will never forget you and your kindnesses to me.”
“Nor I you, lady.”
Meredith couldn’t stop herself from looking back over her shoulder as the three of them finally made their way out of the village. Her arrival had brought her to an unfamiliar place, but the time she’d spent there made it feel almost like home again. She examined the long and curious faces of the children gathered around to see her off, and in the elders she glimpsed a hint of something that had not been there the night before: hope.
CHAPTER NINE
In the eastern tower of the dark castle that skirted the edge of the Darknjan Wald, Kothar stood overlooking the distant lake. There was an agitated air about him, and from time to time the corner of his tightly drawn mouth twitched with anger. Behind him the castle waited in certain disarray, and he turned from the view to inspect things. Yellowed dust and cobwebs swayed against the marbled ceiling, but in most places the neglect blended unnoticeably against the marble pattern. A woman would certainly find fault in his housekeeping, he realized, but that was just as well. It meant the castle could use a woman’s touch, and that was just what he planned to give it.
Bored goblins littered the floor, some of them playing card games, others lazily snoozing, and Kothar could hardly resist the urge to kick one of sleeping ones as he passed by.
The goblin leapt into attention, and while he’d thought the gesture might make him feel better, little more than an embittered grin flashed across his lips at the sound of the other goblins laughing at their companion’s bad luck. Their merriment wiped the grin from Kothar’s lips, and he spun around, his robes swirling out behind him.
“Silence.” His rage echoed through the empty halls of the castle, and wrought a silence so still Kothar thought he heard long-dead vines of ivy rustle against the outside walls.
He descended the stairs into his throne room where he kept an ancient mirror which granted him the power to see anywhere in his realm if he so desired, unfortunately it did not go beyond his realm, and if she had yet to enter he could not see her.
To see her again...
So many ages had passed since he’d seen her that he nearly forgot how lovely she was, and in human form that beauty had hardly faltered. It was her eyes; he’d recognized them the very minute he’d looked within them, and since he’d parted ways with her, they had haunted him constantly. Every time he closed his eyes he could see her face, feel as though she was staring back at him, yet there was no fear in them, no disgust, only genuine intrigue and an early shimmer of love.
Kothar approached the looking glass. He scanned the surface, willed the mirror to show her to him, but no image came. His first thought was that the stupid mirror was broken, but he knew better. She had not yet entered the Wald, and he could hardly imagine what was keeping her. Of course, he had issued his goblins to attack her
, to assure that her mind was addled by the poisonous fruit long before she even reached the Wald. It would have been easier then to draw her in with promises of tenderness and mercy in a world turned horribly dark. At the thought, Kothar’s lips curled into an appreciative smile, but it quickly faded at the echoing din of clattering armor just outside the hall.
The rattling ruckus continued, growing louder and clumsier with every step. Kothar felt the claws of annoyance digging deep into his skin as he recognized just how much like a great army of buffoons they really were. It was a wonder they’d ever managed to hold the Faerie kingdom at bay for so long during the Great War. He watched their shadows grow longer, and listened to their rattling armor as they crashed into one another and the wall, and then the first bumblesome soldier finally fell into the throne room. Those who followed fell into a pile atop their leader, who squirmed in protest beneath them until an outraged Kothar bellowed the word, “Cease!”
His voice echoed through the sullen corridors, evoking only the gravest silence in answer to his command.
"What is this—this foolish display?” He asked them. “What news from the market? Up, on your feet like proper soldiers, now! You disgrace me.”
The pile of goblins moved slowly to regain their posture and position. In this new dedication to silence, in which their armor did not even squeak, they managed to line up in an awkward formation against the wall, two of them on the end continuing to switch places until the horrific roar of their impatient king rang in their ears once again.
“Well?”
Blongok snorted, and then he stepped forward. “We was waiting in the market, Sire, just likes you tolt us to.”
“Yeah,” Glorngk agreed. “An’ just likes you said, she comed in and we done her up like you saids we should.”
“So, she ate the fruit?”
Several of the goblins nodded their heads, helmets clacking noisily against armor.
Maglck first surveyed the line of his fellow goblins before lowering his own stare in shame. “Well...”
The Goblin Market (Into the Green) Page 11