The Goblin Market (Into the Green)

by Jennifer Melzer

  Meredith felt like a small animal caught in the hunter’s range, and she could only stare while her body betrayed her with trembling anxiety. She had never been so close to a man in her life, and she had certainly never been looked upon by one in the way Him looked upon her then.

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He let go of her chin and moved back to study her.

  “I...”

  What did she say? Her mind conflicted against her heart and body, while flashes of intimate dreams in his arms flickered through her mind.

  “It’s not you,” she finally confessed. “It’s just that we’ve only just met, and yet it seems I’ve known you always. Like I could tell you anything and you would never laugh or try to use it to hurt me.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Perhaps a bit of wine might make things more comfortable,” she suggested.

  “Ah, the wine.” He reached to this side and began rummaging through his pack. “I nearly forgot it.” The bottle made a hollow thunk as he tugged the cork free and handed it over to her. “Help yourself.”

  Meredith welcomed the sweet, heady warmth of the drink as it moved through her. She handed the bottle back to Him, and he took a needy swallow.

  “Is it possible to feel completely at ease while at the same time you are absolutely terrified?”

  Him laughed, and sipped from the bottle again before giving it back to her. “If it wasn’t possible before, I believe it was made possible the very moment we first met.”

  She laughed then too, a free laugh completely uninhibited as it reverberated back to her in little waves.

  Him became serious again. “Never before I met you had the sound of laughter seemed so perfect.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was the wine or his compliment, but warmth rushed into her cheeks and made her head spin. “Is it true, what Sir Gwydion says about you? That you experience heartsickness at the mere sight of the wings on a dragonfly?”

  “He said that?”

  Meredith nodded.

  “Well, I have never once loved a dragonfly.” The offense he wore quickly melded into laughter. “Though I have chased after a nymph or two in my time, and there was a sylph once, but she meant nothing to me. None of them meant anything.” He watched as she tilted the bottle to her lips. “It’s like I was waiting for someone all along, looking for her in every glance until I came face to face with you.” He tucked a strand of hair away from her face, his hand lingering to cup her cheek.

  “But even if I do make it through the Darknjan Wald, my freedom is forfeit to the goblin king.” The finality of that truth suddenly restricted her throat and chest so she could scarcely catch her breath. Not even the small sip of wine she swallowed seemed powerful enough to placate her sudden fear. “Were it not for my sister... for this quest I can’t avoid...”

  They both grew silent. Him was solemn as he withdrew his hand. It was as if the weight of the future had never darkened his brow before that moment. She watched eerie shadows stretch across his countenance. His sharp, beautiful eyes shifted away and then back to her again. He gulped down several mouthfuls of wine and then lowered the vessel to the ground.

  He turned to look at her as he said, “Even the greatest love knows only a moment in time. Meredith, I...” he paused for a moment. “Even if I am meant to die for you, or die with you...” His talk of death frightened her. “Even so, my life would have meant nothing had you never come here.”

  “But how can we...”

  Once more he lifted his hand to hold her face from looking away. “How can you sit in this same space and ask how?”

  Ashamed, she closed her eyes to avoid his gaze. He was right and she knew it. The strength of their bond was more than anything she had ever known, and she could not deny that their connection went well beyond the fabric of their own lifetime.

  She was terrified. Love was not something she had ever counted on knowing, as she was already well past the age most girls were married.

  Him’s fingers seemed to resonate against her skin, as though his very touch was magic. Yes, that must be it. He was somehow charming her.

  “I am sorry, Him.” She nestled her face into his open palm, eyes still closed. She relished in the perfect touch of his skin against her own. “My heart trusts, and my body... but then my mind is riddled with logic and reason.”

  “Wasted tools that speak to us of fear and try to convince us to avoid the whims of our heart,” he traced.

  “Fear is a very real thing.”

  “And so is love.” His fingers curled softly then, wound into the loose strands of her hair. He moved closer, and she knew if she were to open her eyes he would be right there in front of her. “Meredith, I promise you.” The raspy whisper of his voice breathed warm against her cheek. “I promise there is nothing in me to be afraid of.”

  “It isn’t you.”

  “Then let me take care of you.” The skin of his cheek, rough as dry sand, brushed against her face. His lips hovered inward to take hers in a kiss, and she gasped in surprise before she relaxed into the comfortable familiarity of Him. She leaned into his arms, and he held onto her in such a way that no matter how she tried, she could not resist him.

  Warm hands moved beneath the fabric that separated their bodies and over her bare skin while his mouth hungrily explored the curve of her neck. She was alive with desire, as she had been in her dreams of him. Fingers wove into his hair, while her other hand wandered freely down the curve of his spine, over his hip until he moved back to look into her eyes.

  Words were no longer necessary, they could feel each others thoughts and emotions, and it was through those avenues that all other communication was guided.

  A soft breath, a gentle moan, and as he lowered her onto the earth and descended in to taste her hungry mouth, she let go of the last of her inhibitions under the reason that if she were going to die on the quest ahead of her, she may as well meet her maker having lived.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Thick fog oozed and swirled alongside the shore. Illuminated by the flickering green light of a single lantern, the fog was as murky and brown as mud, but did not disguise the slow movements of a bent creature hunched beside the water. In his hand was a half-rotted cord tied to the remnants of an old dock.

  The swift river slapped against the boat he tried to desperately draw to shore, but no matter how he tugged against it, the current was too strong and the boat drifted out of his grasp. He showed no frustration, only determination. His tired bones creaked as he leaned outward, one reaching hand drew upon the rope, but it faltered again and a sigh escaped him as he fell flat onto the dock.

  The creature lowered his head, the remnants of his thin hair falling in three long strands from the top of his skull so that they lay in the water. The points of his ears had grown thick and fat with age, and were nearly rounded so that the final traces of his faerie heritage were all but lost. There was almost no telling what or even who he was at all. All he did know was that he had somewhere to be, someone waiting for him, but where that place was, who was waiting for him…

  And then he sensed something, could feel that he was being spied upon, and he craned his neck back around. He blinked, the milky film over his black eyes shifting with his stare. He had been humming, some long forgotten tune, skipping over lost parts and returning to the next refrain. He stopped and listened, a grey tongue flicking out to moisten his dry and cracking lips.

  His head twitched toward the sound of cracking twigs, and in an exaggerated tone he croaked, “Who’s there?”

  “Far be it from me to try and sneak up on you, old man.” Kothar appeared at the edge of the river, his bemused gaze lowered over the pathetic thing before him. He took a step toward the dock and said, “Gorigast, my old friend. How long has it been?”

  “Who is that?” The old thing sniffed at the air and turned toward the sound of Kothar’s speech. His hand twitched toward the ragged opening of his cloak, and the gnarled fing
ers wrapped around the hilt of a handmade, stone dagger.

  “Now, now,” Kothar eyed the scene, “is that any kind of greeting for your king, Gorigast?” The battered boat, the useless rope and the creature that attended them wrought a cold grin that curved Kothar’s lips upward.

  Gorigast blinked, large eyes not so bright as they had once been, in fact it seemed to him at last that everything around him had gotten dark, like a thin layer of film had been dropped over the world so that all appeared in a haze of fog. His muffled hearing had lost the smaller sounds, such as the slow murmur of the wind, and he hadn’t heard a cricket in ages, but there was no mistaking the sound of the voice that spoke. A strange hope gleamed in those black eyes, which narrowed quickly into suspicious slits.

  “Is it true?” He rasped. “Sire, is that you?”

  Kothar took two exaggerated steps toward the dock, his hands clasped behind his back so that he appeared taller, more superior and radiant before his subject. “It is I,” he said. “Though I am surprised you even recognize me, those eyes of yours are old and faded.”

  The old one squinted and strained his eyes to make out the features of the one who stood before him. “I would know you anywhere, Sire. You have not aged a day.”

  “Such is my curse,” Kothar sneered. “And your curse, I see, has been equally brutal. I caught a glimpse of you in my looking glass, and I said, ‘That couldn’t be old Gorigast, now could it?’ You are hardly the elf I recall, so full of glory and power and… and what was it again? Oh, yes,” he paused for a moment to revel in his cruelty. “I recall. You sought the secrets of the Darknjan Wald. You were meant to be the one who brought light into this world again, were you not?”

  Gorigast climbed to the edge of the dock and sunk bare feet down into the mud around it. “I know the secrets, yes I do.” He took a step toward Kothar. “I’ve come so close, so close, and perhaps tomorrow I will break the spell, and light will shine on this accursed place.”

  “Yes, yes, and you and I will have tea and cakes in the castle, while the queen herself plays the harp and sings ballads to us.” The cut of his sarcasm was lost on the old elf, whose dull eyes lit up for a moment.

  “The queen?” he tilted his head. “She is here?”

  “She is come,” Kothar said. “She is come at last, and that is why I’ve come to you, Gorigast. I have a very important task for you.”

  The enthusiasm that lit his pathetic face nearly struck a cord of sympathy in Kothar, but the notion quickly passed.

  “A task, Sire?”

  “Indeed, a task.”

  “What sort of task? Would you like me to round up all those pesky pookas and put them in their place?” The daft creature laughed at his own unplanned alliteration. “Perhaps I could exterminate them for you.” His chafed upper-lip coiled into a sneer of delight and not even Kothar could deny his appreciation.

  “No, no, not today, Gorigast.” He brought his hands around to his waist and refolded them there. “In fact, this task I have for you is far more important than any other task, and if you promise to do well I will reward you beyond your wildest dreams.”

  “Re... re-reward, Sire?” He reached behind to scratch the back of his head.

  “Oh, yes,” and here Kothar waved his hand in a spidery gesture before Gorigast and muttered some ancient incantation which removed the film of shadow from the old elf’s eyes. The cottonous void that had settled into his ears was gone too, and for the first time in a thousand years Gorigast heard the chirp and bow of a cricket. His heart swelled with joy, and he swooned toward the sound.

  “I can hear the wind muttering in the branches.”

  “Revel in the miracle, my friend,” Kothar laughed. “Now tell me, Gorigast, do you remember your life before you entered my wood?”

  Behind the king a white owl swooped across the void like a flicker of light. Gorigast felt distracted by it, and his mind reeled backwards as it clawed the darkness of memory for some recollection. “I er...” he started, wisps of thought leaping just beyond his reach. There was a girl dancing, and laughter, white petals pirouetted on the breeze. “I... I... there were trees once, Sire. I remember trees as far as the eye could see.”

  “Trees?” The word left Kothar like a cough of disgust.

  Shame mixed with longing and flushed Gorigast’s cheeks. “Trees, green and alive...”

  “Is that all you remember? Is there nothing else? Nothing of importance?” The edge on Kothar’s voice suggested disgust, and though Gorigast shrank away, the notion that there was something more had sparked the light of interest in his vacant mind. “If you remember so very little then perhaps you are not the one I require for my task after all.” He paused to give the thing in front of him a moment to reflect, then went on. “I require one with impeccable memory, analytical skills that will weave him through the Wald without question...”

  “I remember the day I set foot into the Wald,” Gorigast leapt quickly into his answer.

  “And you have been here ever since,” Kothar pointed out with a hint of pride and encouragement. “The only soul who has endured here nearly as long as I... Tell me, Gorigast, how would you like to see the world beyond the Darknjan Wald again?”

  “The world beyond?” His hollowed eyes lit up in a display of desire that twisted his thin mouth into a sharp, hideous grin. It didn’t matter that his memory was so faded he couldn’t remember the world beyond the Wald.

  “Beyond the Wald and into the world again.” Kothar moved his hand through the air dramatically in a gesture meant to inspire Gorigast’s cobweb crusted imagination. “Your eyes and ears are strong again. Just imagine what other miracles I could work. Perhaps I could even restore your youth.”

  Black eyes followed the path of Kothar’s hand and clung to the power of his every word.

  “A new life, it would be like starting over again, and all you would have to do for me is one, simple task.”

  “Anything,” Gorigast said. “Anything you ask, me Sire, I will do.”

  “As I thought,” a smirk snaked its way across the king’s face. “Now you must listen to me very carefully,” he began. “The queen-to-be is on her way into the Wald even as we speak, only she travels in the company of a most unfortunate creature, a hunter of the noble kingdom. The queen has forgotten that she was promised to me, and so she comes seeking that which I stole to remind her.” The wind picked up again, howled through the trees and lifted the wisps of Kothar’s black hair in slices across his pale face. “You must lead her through the Wald...”

  “But Sire, I...”

  “Silence!” Kothar reached into his cloak and brought his hand out close-fisted, as though he held some trinket within. “The charm in my hand will show you through the Darknjan Wald and straight to my castle. You must keep it close to you at all times, and never show anyone or speak of its power.”

  Kothar unfurled his clenched fingers to reveal a small, black crystal on a leather strand. He lowered the strand around Gorigast’s neck and tied the ends together so that the stone fell heavy against his chest. Gorigast looked down at the dark crystal against his skin and as he opened his mouth to speak, he noticed a small shimmer of light deep inside. A gasp replaced whatever query he had.

  “The light will open a straight path to the castle. You will meet the girl on the bridge and bring her straight to me.”

  Still fascinated by the trinket around his neck, Gorigast asked, “And if I do... you’ll give me back my youth?” He lifted a curious stare to the king. “You’ll let me go back into the world again?”

  “Of course I will,” Kothar agreed. “In fact, I would give you your youth back right now if I thought it might help you in your quest, but alas, she’ll be more trusting of a feeble guide, I think.”

  “You are most gracious, Sire.” Gorigast stumbled over his own excited words, and then twisted his broken body into the semblance of a bow.

  “Recall,” Kothar began, cutting short the early celebration before it got out of hand
. “These rewards are only if you succeed, Gorigast.”

  “Absolutely, Sire,” he nodded in a quick, greedy fashion. “I will bring you the girl.”

  “Alive.”

  “Alive,” he promised. “Very much alive, Sire, and completely unspoiled.”

  “Very well,” Kothar turned and started away from the scene, but then turned back quickly. “Oh, and Gorigast?”

  “Yes, Sire?”

  “Kill the Hunter.”

  “K-kill th-the Huh-hunter?” He tripped over the words clumsily. There was an inkling of memory, a slow recognition of the sacred hunter. The Green One was to be revered.

  “Kill the Hunter,” Kothar’s cold grin chilled Gorigast, and he jerked against the movement. “Kill him, but make it look like an accident. She must trust you no matter what.”

  “Of course,” Gorigast lowered his eyes, his mind already laden with the guilt of selfish promise. But then, he would give anything to be himself again, to walk outside the Wald in the world of light and wonder, to find his way home again.

  “Meet her on the bridge then,” Kothar gestured toward the bridge between the worlds. “Make haste, and remember Gorigast,” he paused for a moment, and then added, “If you fail at this, or let me down in anyway, I will make you sorry you were ever born.”

  The elf swallowed hard against his worries and nodded. “I will not let you down, Sire.”

  Kothar was gone as quickly as he had come, and in his wake the ragged elf stood listening to the angry wind in the Darknjan Wald scream through the branches. Somewhere he thought he heard laughter, the king’s laughter, echoing off of the empty walls of his castle.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Meredith woke to the foggy half-light of dusk, and as she lifted her head from the pillow of Him’s chest, a fat drop of rain fell against her cheek. She scanned the eerie silence of the encampment with squinted eyes, passing a glance over the ashy coals of the near-dead fire which put off barely enough heat to dry the fog that soaked into the blankets and her clothes.