The Goblin Market (Into the Green)

by Jennifer Melzer

  “Some speak of prophecies,” Gorigast murmured.

  Him’s astonishment seemed to render some respect where there had been none before. “You know of the prophecies?”

  The elf trembled, his lower lip quivered and his eyes welled with unexplained tears. “I know the prophecies. Once brought me hope,” he blinked and looked away from their interest. “In a world of darkness, the promise of light drives.” He reached down and clenched his fist in the mud beside him. “Ages searching for it, one by one lost to shadows and dust.”

  Gorigast’s statement brought a lingering silence upon them, unbroken by the subtle drum of raindrops on the earth.

  Meredith broke bread and shared cheese with her companions, and Gorigast studied the gift with tearing eyes. His thanks caught in the back of his throat, but the smile he offered in exchange was thanks enough. They ate quietly, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts.

  Meredith tried to imagine how hard it had been for Gorigast, living in the Wald all those years alone, no one to talk with but himself. She wasn’t even sure how long it had been, but judging from the look of him, and the fact that the kingdom he’d come from was nothing more than legend, she imagined several lifetimes had come and gone.

  She had only been the Wald’s captive for a few hours and it had already gotten into her skin in ways she was sure would never come clean. There was the ever-present odor of damp and rot, as though it never stopped raining long enough for plant life to grow. There were a great number of fungi of the likes she’d never seen before crawling out from under the decaying trunks of the long-dormant trees. The fungi seemed to be the only source of color in so drab a landscape, richly decked in dark orange, royal purple and blood red.

  The greatest mystery of the Wald however was the silence. Surely there were others lost in its depths, the occasional animal or wandering explorer. So far they had seen no one and heard nothing at all. It had never occurred to Meredith before how she had taken the simple sounds of nature for granted, but there in the Wald she longed for their comfortable familiarity in ways she had never done before.

  It was unnatural for the world to be so quiet.

  “Are there no streams nearby?” She wondered, straining her ears for the sound of gurgling water that wasn’t there.

  Gorigast nodded and brushed the crumbs from his tattered vest. “Streams all over the Wald.”

  She shook her head. “It’s just so silent.”

  A pitiful understanding widened the rims of the old elf’s eyes. “Always silent, like death.”

  The strangest thing to Meredith was how well the Wald still mimicked the ritual and grace of its former beauty. Just looking up into the vacant canopy of long-dead trees she could easily picture it in all its glory. Lush and green, heavy leaves shuddering in a peaceful breeze while a host of colorful birds twittered from branch to branch in a curious game. She could almost hear their chirrups stringing together to accompany the drumming rain.

  Silver sunlight dabbed at the distant openings between the leaves and reached out to the lush ferns the decked the forest floor. Yes, she grieved. It had been beautiful once, and the longing and sadness of the land caused the heaviness in the air.

  Her heart went out to Gorigast, though she would never so openly show him pity for fear of embarrassing him. Despite his situation, he seemed proud, and already they had taken his generosity for granted.

  Him had a point in his distrust, after all they were in the Wald, but so far he’d done his best to show them the way. While she’d never admit it to Him or anyone else, she trusted Gorigast, and was grateful they had met him.

  “Will we make the castle before nightfall?” Him wondered aloud.

  Gorigast nodded eagerly. “If we waste less time resting.”

  “Waste time resting,” Him muttered, a soft laugh catching in his throat. “Yes, I suppose we have wasted enough time resting. Are you ready to move on, Merry?”

  She looked up into his playful eyes, their warmth sparking the memory of his arms around her. He was thinking of her too, maybe even remembering the taste of her lips on his tongue, or the way her hair smelled as he’d buried his face into her shoulder. If only they could return to that place and time and stay there forever, she daydreamed.

  She sighed and said, “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

  They begrudgingly packed up camp and fell into place behind their guide, only this time Merry and Him walked shoulder to shoulder, both of them daydreaming. They wove through the dark and twisted forest behind their guide, who seemed all too happy for their silence.

  Finally, Meredith leaned in and quietly asked, “Do you still think he will lead us astray?”

  “Perhaps.” Him shrugged as he stood upright again. “Or it could be worse.”

  “What could possibly be worse than being lost in the Wald?” She shuddered at the thought, a moment’s anxiety rippling through her to think they might already be lost.

  “Death.”

  When she looked over at him, his face stiffened into a serious mask, one she had never hoped to see, and for the first time since they had started on this journey that very real notion sunk into her. Death was one of the more probable outcomes of their endeavor, and yet she held that possibility as far away from her mind as possible.

  “You don’t think...” she started and then stopped herself before the words could form. “I mean, how likely do you think that possibility is?”

  “Merry,” he touched her arm. “I take none of this lightly, and though I don’t wish to frighten you ...”

  “It’s gone beyond that point now,” she assured him. “I’m in this to the death, if that be my end.”

  “You’re very brave,” a soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

  “So are you.” She wanted to kiss that mouth just then, but she did not. “What do we do then?”

  “We keep our guards up,” he said, “keep our senses in check. That is all we can do.”

  She looked toward Gorigast and tried to imagine he would never betray her. The loneliness in his eyes, the way he lit up every time he called her his majesty. It made her long desperately to trust him.

  She diverted her gaze into the thick, tangled growth to their left, her senses alive now that her expectations had darkened. She almost laughed out loud when she realized that no one, not even Christina, would ever believe all she had endured to save her. She tried to keep that thought as motivation. Soon she would take Christina home, and Christina could marry Wil, and life would carry on as it always had. Wouldn’t it?

  No, it wouldn't. After just a single glimpse at the Underground, Meredith doubted very much that her life would, or even could, ever be normal again. She’d never be able to walk away and simply forget, especially not Him. In fact, she had not even missed home since she’d met him, and it was beginning to feel as though she hadn’t been home in hundreds of years.

  Only then did she realize that just two nights had passed since she had gone Underground. Two nights, and already she had seen more and gone further than she had ever gone in her entire life. All the folks tucked into the land and town around them, the people she and Christina only ever saw on the rare occasion when they made their way into town, they all seemed more like people she heard about in stories, rather than people she had actually once known.

  Even the Meredith who had known those people seemed dreadfully unreal to her now, as though she had only been a skin easily shed and cast aside.

  Her mother's stories surfaced in her mind again, but gone was the panic she'd earlier associated with them. Would she become one of those heroines who slipped into the faerie realm and returned many years later under the notion that only a single night had passed and the world had long forgotten her? As dreadful as it seemed, she almost hoped so. She’d never felt right or comfortable in that world.

  Knowing she didn’t really belong Upland at all made sense.

  And as she looked toward Him, she knew for the first time in her life exac
tly where she belonged. Wherever he was, she was home.

  When he’d reminded her earlier that they could die, she could easily imagine sacrificing herself to save Him and her sister, but she couldn’t even begin to fathom going on without Him.

  That was where the concept of time became incredibly tricky once again. For two nights she had known him, and yet it was as though lifetimes had passed since they’d come together. The thought alone of losing him wrenched her soul in ways that made it difficult to breathe, and she couldn’t begin to imagine the agony if it became reality.

  She wanted to reach out to him then, hold onto him and tell him it was okay for them to turn back. She’d do anything to save them from whatever lie ahead, even sacrifice her own sister. Her willingness to do anything for him made her wonder about the prophecies, if there was something more to what was going on between them than simple attraction and growing love like the ones she’d only read about in fairytales .

  Shame burned beneath her skin upon that realization, but it was true. Yes, she loved her sister, but if she had to choose between Him and Christina in the end, she was mortified to think she could so easily turn her back on her own flesh and blood. But Christina wasn’t really her flesh and blood… was she?

  She had to look away from Him then, and it was during this moment—when she’d stopped paying attention to their surroundings—that a slinking black tendril of vine snaked out of the earth and wrapped around her ankle.

  Its grip was sudden and tight, and it drew her backward before a startled scream even left her mouth.

  It was as if the world itself had been yanked out from under her, and as she dangled above Him, the trailing plant coiled around her knee, up her thigh and toward her waist.

  She cried out again, this time in sheer terror as the vine tightened around her.

  “Merry!” Him leapt toward her, a hand stretched forward. “Reach for my hand.”

  “I can’t!” Meredith lengthened her fingers and struggled as the plant twisted in loops up both of her legs. It yanked her from the path like a predator dragging its dinner back to its den deep in the forest.

  She kicked, but like a hungry jungle reptile it wound tighter the more she struggled against it.

  Wild screams scraped her throat as she felt the vines pulling her in two different directions.

  “Him!”

  “I’m coming, Merry,” he cried. “Reach for me!”

  “I can’t reach.” Her eyes stung with furious and frightened tears, and her stomach lurched with the swaggering suspension of her body. “Please!”

  “Gorigast, find the source of the vine!” He called out to their guide. “Gorigast!”

  Only the elf had scurried off in fear, and Him just caught a glimpse of the elf's back disappearing into the thicket.

  “You useless bastard!" he cried. "Hold on, Merry! Hold on!”

  Her own screams rang in her ears, and her mind swam in terror. Hysterical, she thrashed and fought against the suffocating vines drawing her away from the path and into the darkest part of the Wald.

  “Him! Please!”

  Terror poisoned her mind, and she was losing the fight. In the distance she could barely make Him out, as he’d become a furious blur hacking and cursing at the twisted, writhing thing taking her over.

  A roaring agony sounded, and the tendrils that held her gripped even tighter than before. She could barely breathe already and as the landscape wavered before her, she cursed her guilty mind for even thinking of sacrificing her sister. It was her punishment for thinking of herself, of her own happiness over her sister’s safety.

  “Merry,” her mind swayed against the familiar sound of Him’s voice.

  The vines spiraled and looped around her torso and squeezed her chest so tight that every inhale only intensified its hold on her. It crushed her insides.

  “I’ve almost got it, Merrry. Hold on, please! Hold on!

  Him hacked his sword through the root of her attacker, but the vegetation still resisted her rescue.

  Her bones painfully resisted the pressure, and what little breath she was able to draw came in small, desperate gasps. Her heart was a furious machine, thrombing wildly inside her chest. The snaking length of the plant probed her face, as if feeling for her mouth and nose, and then it pushed against her gritted teeth.

  It was too strong and quickly forced her jaws apart, but she desperately chewed it away before it could slide down into her throat and tear her apart from the inside out.

  Bitter juices numbed her tongue, activating her gag reflex. Bile rose, and she spit chewed bits of leaf and vine into the air.

  As if it realized its own peril, the vine wrapped around her mouth then like a gag, and tightened so that she could no longer close her teeth over it.

  Beyond panic, Meredith embraced a state of delirium edging on euphoria.

  So this was death, she surmised. Stories had always made it appear more glamorous, and often more peaceful.

  A voice in the back of her mind willed her to relax, as the more she struggled the harder it seemed to punish and abuse her in its grasp. Parts of her had already gone numb where the circulation had been cut off, and it would only be a matter of time before her entire body was at peace.

  “Reach for me, Merry,” Him called from the ground below. “Don’t let it take you! Reach for me, please!”

  Her vision was so blurred she could no longer make out Him below. She saw the flash of his hand, reaching fingers stretched in desperation until they wrapped tight around her own fingers.

  “I almost have you,” he shouted reassurance. “Feel my hand there, Merry, take hold and I will pull you free.” He swore with rage as he struggled to save her.

  The monstrous vine resisted, tightening and fighting to keep her, but where she had fought before, she now relaxed until she felt herself falling. Tendrils loosened. Some of the smaller ones fought to hang onto her, but they were not strong enough to maintain her weight and snapped as she fell toward the earth.

  Him, waiting below with open arms, was knocked backward, and they tumbled to safety near a patch of mushrooms.

  “It’s all right,” he told her, smoothing her hair. “I’ve got you now.”

  Him scanned her face, and neck, hands searching every inch of her body for injury and signs of lingering vine. “I have you now. You're safe," he promised. "You're safe."

  Meredith broke down and relaxed against him until she was as limp and useless as the dying vines he had destroyed to save her. Low sobs caught in the back of her raw and aching throat, and she choked and gagged on them, still tasking the acrid juices that dried the insides of her cheeks and made her tongue feel numb and useless.

  Him cradled her close and promised again and again that she was okay. As he pressed soft lips against her forehead and nestled his chin against her cheek.

  “You’re all right now, love,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, it’s all right.”

  She shook her head, but the protest welling inside of her never emerged.

  Things were not okay, and they very well might not ever be okay again. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and tried to quiet her own sobs. Her burning eyes closed, she wished that when she opened them next it would all be over, that the world would be right again, but she had already come too far and experienced too much to ever walk away without finishing her task.

  "You should have let it take me,” she finally said.

  She moved away from him and stared bleary-eyed toward the tangled mass of dead vine still twitching like a dying snake on the ground.

  “Don’t be foolish, Merry. I will never let anything harm you.”

  “If you knew what I was thinking…" she started. “ The horrible thoughts I was thinking… No, I deserved to be punished.”

  “Thoughts do not equal actions.” He reached out to turn her face, but she pulled away from his hand. “Whatever thoughts you entertained were only thoughts and nothing more, Meredith.”

  "I was think
ing about how easy it would be to leave her to her fate with Kothar,” she admitted. “If it meant that I might escape and spend an eternity with you.”

  She could feel his stare willing her to meet with it, but she was too ashamed.

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she said.

  “Merry,” he reached for her again, this time laying a hand on her shoulder. “There are things in this world that you just can’t stop. Destiny, for example,” he paused and lifted a finger to circle a curling tendril of her hair. “Love… I don’t pretend to know what you were thinking, or even to defend your thoughts from you, but I know if I were asked right now to choose between my own brother and a future with you, I would bid Sylvanus farewell and live with the guilt later.”

  Her throat felt heavy and constricted with emotion, and though there was so much she wanted to say, she just let him hold her until the sound of bird calls growing nearer alerted them both.

  She lifted her head from his chest and looked toward the sound. A gasp of surprise escaped her, and she scurried to her feet to take it in.

  Gorigast had been right, and now before them was the evidence of the changes in the Wald. It had come alive just a few dozen feet from where they stood. Green shoots of grass sprung up, the tired trees sprouted new leaves, and a host of small animals scurried curiously through their new surroundings as if they'd only just woken from hibernation after a long winter nap.

  “It is coming alive again." Him moved in close and rested a hand on the small of her back.

  She nestled into him and shook her head in disbelief. “But how? Why even?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “It’s as though it is following us.”

  “Or perhaps just you,” he noted. “Maybe it is some enchantment of Kothar’s, a spell to lure you back.”

  “Maybe.” Thinking then of Kothar, she turned away from the Wald come to life and faced the heavy path ahead. “We should go.”