The Goblin Market (Into the Green) (10 page)

Maybe it
was
the wine, she thought, her gaze falling over Him, who had taken the seat opposite her. She felt brave and didn’t bother to look away when their eyes met. It wasn’t until Sylvanus began to speak again and she remembered where she was, that there was a whole other world outside Him’s eyes.

“As strange as that may sound to you, yes,” Sylvanus sat between them. “Centuries have passed since you were sent away,” he said. “Your uncle never quite forgave himself for allowing it, but it had to be done, or we risked losing everything we had left after the war.”

“The Great War?” She recalled the stories Him had entertained her with along their journey. “But how? I won’t deny there is a part of me, especially now that I am here, who believes that all of this is somehow...” her voice trailed off into the moment, the final word barely more than a whisper, “familiar.”

“You cannot be expected to remember the truth so suddenly as you forgot it,” Sylvanus told her. “I believe that was one of the stipulations when you were sent away. You would carry no memory of what you’d left behind. And all that time in the mortal realm... it’s sure to have wreaked havoc on your memories.”

The song she’d sung that afternoon in the garden, the one about the goblin king searching for his bride, circulated through her memory with some sense of meaning. “And yet, a part of me must remember,” she said. “Nothing solid,” she found Him’s eyes again, remembering that warm acquaintance she had with him from the very moment they first touched in the ruins of the Goblin Market. “Nothing of any consequence, just a sense of awareness, and Kothar... he’s been searching for me. I nearly recognized him, but I didn’t know why or from where. I only knew he’d been searching.”

“Unfortunately, he never gave up,” Sylvanus said. “Shall I start the story at the beginning, then?” Niliel returned and quickly decorated the table with sweet cakes, cheeses, and an ornately decorated bottle of wine. “Kothar was once of our people,” he began, thanking Niliel with a lingering hand and not-so-secret wink. A heated blush darkened her cheeks before she curtsied and left the room. “And he was a very dear friend to us both, you and me. But even before Kothar, the entire goblin kingdom was once of the Fae.

“The Darkness of the Great War came when two brothers were pit against one another in a monumental struggle for power. They were twins, and when their father died the crown should have passed rightfully to the first born son, Garenthil. However, there were those in the kingdom who did not agree, and so they plotted against Garenthil to put the second born, Hilyn athrone. The plot ended with Garenthil’s death, and our world fell apart for it had never known such darkness or betrayal. Hatred spread like disease through the land, and our people were divided by Hilyn’s crowning.

“Over time, the hatred distorted the people, especially those who had wrongly plotted, and as though a dark magic worked into their blood, their appearance became haggard and hideous. Soon it was known who the wicked were, and thus began the Great War. Several ages knew only chaos which destroyed many of our customs, people, land, and it would still be going on today were it not for Kothar.”

“Kothar brought an end to the Great War?” Meredith wondered aloud.

“Oh, yes.” Sylvanus leaned back in his chair. He swirled wine within his glass. “Of course, there are about half a dozen tales on how he ended the war, but only the story I tell you is the truth.”

Sir Gwydion focused on Sylvanus as he spoke, but Him was distracted by the food laid out on the table. Him’s lacking concentration made her grin, and she turned her focus back to the Historian just as he began to speak again.

“Kothar’s father, Jaron, was once advisor to the Great One, and because our own father, Pwyll was the Great One’s only brother, he also acted as council. Of course, Kothar and I were raised together at court, educated and initiated into the art of battle that had been passed down from generation to generation since the dawning of the Great War. We studied with the last elders before they passed from this world, and were taught that it was our duty to save our kingdom and our people. While I accepted that fate, Kothar always felt resentful. He believed we were surely destined for greater things than war because we were the sons of great men. It was a noble belief, one even I can't condemn, but our fathers disagreed.

“It was Jaron who decided the only way to end the war was to come to know our enemy so intimately that all of their secrets became our own. Three of the kingdom's most skilled warriors would be sent in under a guise to learn those secrets, and of those three warriors, Kothar and I were numbers one and two. Our fathers believed the sacrifice to be small. My father had half a dozen other sons to replace me if I failed, but Kothar outright refused until The Great One promised him the hand of his wife’s beloved and only niece.”

Sylvanus paused as though searching for a hint of recognition in Meredith’s face, but she remained silent, attentive, and he continued.

“She was called Glylwythiel, and we grew up with her at court. The three of us spent many afternoons playing, adventuring in the fields, learning, growing together. Even as children, Kothar rained affection down on her, but Glylwythiel never seemed to notice or care. It was no small secret how much he coveted her, and when the Great One offered her hand to him in marriage, Kothar quickly forgot his grievances, and drove toward our quest with a new vengeance.”

“But I did not love him.” Meredith was surprised by the words that escaped her.

“No, Lady.” Sylvanus shook his head. “You did not love him, but you loved your uncle very dearly, and you understood court politics and the need for such arrangement. On the other hand, your uncle did not believe Kothar would actually return from the task. He thought for certain we would all fail.”

The momentary pressure of dread stole her breath. Rushes of a lost time and memory pressed inside her head. She shook them away, and closed her eyes until the last one was gone, but Sylvanus went on.

“In hindsight, it was a foolish plan from the start. The Goblins were too shrewd and clever, and after only a few days in their camp, our glamour was revealed and we were taken captive. I hope you will forgive me the sparse details, as I do not ever wish to relive the horror and torment of those days.”

Sylvanus large, round eyes seemed far away, and once more flashes of the familiarity came back to Meredith in pulses.

He broke the silence and continued. “As I mentioned, three of us were chosen, and of the three, I was the only who managed to escape and return from the goblin’s realm. The other, Darinian, died in the dark dungeons of the goblin castle.

“I barely escaped with my life, much less than that, my mind. I clawed my way desperately through darkness and back into the light of our world, but Kothar was not so fortunate. Some say he never gave in to even the most hideous of goblin tortures. For two years he was held captive in their dungeons, starved, beaten, tormented... Others said it was his love for Glylwythiel that held him together, but it is also told that he staved off their torments with magic.

“The war raged on, and both sides suffered such casualties that the goblin king, Thurpok, did everything he could to steal the truth of our defenses from Kothar. He offered him freedom, immunity, even to spare his soul from the tortures of goblin hell if only he would speak his mission and share his secrets. At last, Kothar struck a bargain with the goblin king. He challenged him to a duel.

“‘If you win, my life is forfeit, and before I die I will tell you all of the secrets I carry with me. Believe me when I tell you they are many, but if I win ...’ Some say there was a malicious gleam in his eyes then that reflected his first taste of dark power. ‘If I win, I tell you nothing. Your life is forfeit, and your crown becomes mine.’

“Thurpok laughed at him, because Kothar’s challenge did not include rules, and so he planned to duel unfairly with him, as goblins are known to do. Thurpok accepted the challenge, but little did he know or understand the true training Kothar had undergone in his youth. Such was his training that he needed no weaponry, nor even the use of his hands to duel. When Thurpok led him to do battle in the battle ring, both hands bound behind him, and absolutely weaponless, it was with a condescending sneer he introduced his challenger to the crowd.

“The arena was damp and chill like all places goblins prize. Over the time Kothar had been a prisoner he had absorbed much of the Goblin culture, more than any other Fae had ever learned. It is believed that during his imprisonment, he gained the sympathy of a goblin soldier named Gorshlock. Gorshlock was embittered toward his king, but afraid to overthrow him. Others claim that Kothar simply observed the workings of their dark magic during years in captivity, and studied it until he understood it. Either way, he learned of a sacred death spell, which was fueled most powerfully by such emotions as hatred, loathing, bitterness and greed.

“Greed he knew, now that he had hungered. Bitterness he felt at his own kin for sending him away from his home to suffer such tortures as they could never imagine possible. Loathing gripped him every time he saw the narrow slits of King Thurpok’s yellow eyes. In the company of those three hungry emotions, hatred was not so difficult for him to summon. Kothar stepped into the battle arena and suffered Thurpok’s initial blows. Each one firmed his resolve and strengthened those four emotions. It is said that only when he was weak beyond recall did Thurpok in his ignorance release him from his binds and bid him stand upright and fight like a true warrior.

“Imagine his surprise when Kothar rose and charged forward. Knocked from his feet, Thurpok lay shocked and defenseless. You must realize now that much of this tale is hearsay, but some claim it was the utterance of a single word which snuffed out the life of Thurpok the Great. Others say they battled hand to hand until Kothar had weakened his foe, and then he spoke the killing curse. No matter, he did kill Thurpok that day and with the dead king’s blood on his hands, he rightfully assumed position as king.”

“And just like that, he was accepted as their king?”

“It is the goblin hierarchy,” Him said, wiping crumbs from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” Sylvanus agreed. “You keep what you kill, and of course they had heard enough stories about him to inspire both dread and devotion. How he survived all those torments in the dungeon and risen from defeat, killing their king in cold blood. They say that was the day the cruelty in his soul was born, but I believe even then we could have saved him.” A reflective pause silenced Sylvanus. Minutes passed before he finally added, “We could have saved him and reunited our broken kingdom.”

“But how?”

“It matters not.” He shook his head. “It isn’t something we can change or take back.”

“He demanded that I join him at once and become his queen,” Merry whispered.

“He did, but the Great One refused, saying that as long as he wore the crown that kept our kingdoms divided, he would have no bride from our realm. Kothar sent messenger after messenger, always asking for the same prize. Finally, angered by the Great One’s refusal, Kothar threatened a great darkness, greater than any evil we had ever witnessed. It would devour all that was good and light until he had his bride.”

“The Darknjan Wald…”

“The Darknjan Wald,” Sylvanus agreed. “Your uncle insisted you leave the kingdom at once. You said you would do whatever it took to bring peace, even if that meant marrying Kothar, but the Great One feared the darkness in Kothar had grown too strong. He would never reunite the kingdoms, and his precious Glylwythiel would only wither and suffer at his hands

“On the crone’s counsel, a spell was woven and your spirit was born again in the body of a human child, a changeling. They entrusted your safekeeping to the mortal woman you knew to be your mother.”

Meredith felt her head move back in forth, denial gripping her mind. Vague flickers of memory wrangled with her thoughts, but nothing powerful enough to confirm that she ever actually experienced them.

“Your human glamour is beginning to fade,” Sylvanus said. “Now that you have come home, the memories will return, and soon you will be as you once were.”

“But I don’t want to become someone else!” She stood up fast, the blood rushing to her head and making her dizzy.

Him noted the way she staggered and moved to her aid. Instinct told her to pull away, but the touch of his hands against her skin was a great comfort. She looked into his eyes, conflicted and afraid, and saw understanding and compassion.

“I’m afraid there’s more,” Sylvanus said.

“Perhaps the lady would like some air before you fill her head with more truth.” The tone of Him’s voice grew harsh with defense.

“I’m fine,” Meredith insisted.

Him searched her face and then nodded, reluctantly uncurling his fingers from her arms and stepping back as she resumed her seat.

“I realize this must all be overwhelming for you,” Sylvanus said. “I apologize.”

“Tell me the rest of the story.” She pressed her back into the seat and looked toward the slow burning fire in the hearth behind Sylvanus.

All of their eyes were on her, but she didn’t care. Let them look.

Sylvanus did not speak again for several minutes, and in the silence Meredith found that her head was heavy with it all. She felt the guilt of struggling with her uncle over what was right and wrong, and the memory of his argument carried her away…

“If I go to him, it could mean peace for our world, Uncle.”

“We cannot cower under his threats! I love you like my own child, girl, and will not sacrifice you to his greed.”

“You would rather send me away,” her voice tightened with emotion. “Send me Upland to live a lie…”

“You do not love him,” he reminded her. “An eternity in his company would wither away at you like wings against the wind, until there was nothing left of you but bitterness and ash. Upland you won’t remember your pain. I promise.”

The sound of Sylvanus’s voice drew her back from memory.