The Goblin Market (Into the Green) (18 page)

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 fingers 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.

She felt sticky and raw, as though she’d been left out in the rain and mud for days, and judging from the second drop that landed on her forearm, they were in for another wet journey.

Him stretched his legs beside hers and rolled his head into a sleeping stretch. She looked over him, noted the shadow of stubble growing on his chin, watched the flutter of dreaming eyes beneath his lids, and a contented breath escaped her.

She never imagined she would know such endless bliss in her life, such wonder and joy. She wondered what he was dreaming and lowered her head once more onto his chest. She drew the blanket they shared up to shelter them from the rain and dozed in and out of sleep, barely clinging long enough to dream, but providing her with the kind of peace that allowed her to relive the night they had shared in her mind.

It had been impetuous, and part of her felt that she should have been ashamed of herself, but not an ounce of regret nudged her from the cloud she floated on, nor dampened the overwhelming emotion that existed between them.

One night, and already she couldn’t imagine a day apart from him. One night, and she was already thinking about forever.

She matched the beating of his heart to the subtle plot of raindrops on the earth and blanket until sleep finally closed over her again, and though she didn’t dream, it felt as though she would never need to dream again now that she had the memory of his touch.

When Meredith woke again the world was quiet, and the comfortable fit of his body no longer nestled beside her. The cold earth seeped into her clothing, chilling her to the bone, and as she lifted her head to scan the silver fog for signs of Him, wisps of mist swirled like smoke all around her.

All was still.

She sat up and gathered the blanket around her when a flash of movement swooped just over her head. The wind of whatever it had been definitely touched her, and she whipped her neck around to find nothing there.