The Goblin Market (Into the Green) (19 page)

Another object zoomed by her just as Him emerged from the fog and ducked in to push her out of the way.

“Low to the ground,” he commanded in a gruff whisper. “We’re under attack.”

“Under at—”

Him silenced her with a hand against her mouth and nodded in answer. “Parties of renegade goblins who swear no fealty to Kothar camp in the mountain caves around the river. There are only five of them, but it’s just a matter of time before more follow.”

She swallowed, “Where is Sir Gwydion?”

“He’s holding them off from the trees,” he nodded toward the grove. “We need to make for the bridge, and quickly.”

Meredith nodded and wriggled into her clothing while Him packed their few belongings into his sack. Every once in a while the whir of an airborne object rushed close, but Him didn’t seem alarmed.

“What is that?”

“What is what?” He turned his head to look over his shoulder at her.

“That... that... something that keeps flying past me.”

“Oh, that,” he returned his attention to packing. “They’re arrows.”

“Arrows!” It took everything inside her to keep from shrieking that word, the loud whisper conjuring a warning glance from Him. “Arrows?”

“Don’t worry, they’re lousy shots,” he shrugged. “Bad eyesight and all that.”

“Oh.” She swallowed, not feeling any better about the prospect of random arrows flying willy nilly all around them.

“Hurry.”

He thrust the blanket that had sheltered them from the rain into his sack and then reached to pull her alongside him. Him sheltered her as he rushed her forward, and as they escaped the final canopy that sheltered them during the night, she saw the enemy.

A growing band of sluggish goblins raced toward them, firing off random arrows. Him was right about one thing, she noted. They were definitely lousy shots, and nine out of every ten arrows was way off the mark. Regardless, the harsh sound of their rally cry as they rushed forward was horrifying enough. In fact, she was so focused on escaping them that she didn’t realize they had run straight onto the bridge until they were several paces into the growing darkness.

The dull shaft of air from an off the mark arrow swooshed to her left, and then she stumbled forward, her bare palms skidding across the splintered and rotting surface of the wooden bridge beneath her.

Him knelt beside her, but first looked back over his shoulder to gauge the distance of the enemy. “They’ve stopped just near the campsite,” he announced. “They will not follow us where we go.”

“What of Sir Gwydion?” Meredith turned onto her side, ignoring the pain which stung the palms of her hands. “We can’t leave him.”

Him took her hands in his and began brushing smooth fingertips over her wounds. “Gwydion can take care of himself.”

Meredith instinctively jerked her hands from his as he began to draw at the slivers of wood in her palms. “He’s so small,” she lamented, her thoughts returning to the almost civil conversation she had shared with the pixie the evening before. “How will he escape?”

“He is a very clever warrior,” Him reached for her hands again and drew them out to examine them. “Keep still, this will only take a moment,” he promised, his deft fingers plucking at the splinters again. “Besides,” he paused to focus on a particularly stubborn fragment and Meredith sucked a painful breath in between her teeth. “I would rather Gwydion not follow where we go.”

He finished with her wounded hands, and though they still stung, she ignored the pain as he helped her to her feet. With the darkness at her back, she craned her neck toward the shore and watched as the host of goblins turned their attention away from the bridge and circled in on the woods where Sir Gwydion hid.

Her heart tensed inside her chest, and she clenched her teeth tight against the claws of emotion that suddenly dug into her. This was no time to break down, she realized, and so her tightened jaw held her worry at bay.

“Come,” Him reached down and took her stinging hand inside his own. “Watch your step. These boards are older than you can dream, and the water below is treacherous.”

The two of them walked huddled together, heads down as they gauged every step carefully. From time to time she chanced a look back over her shoulder at the shore that was already growing dark behind them. Him’s arm tightened across her shoulders, and about halfway across, he paused when she turned to look back and allowed her the moment.

“I have fought in many battles with Gwydion, and he is a greater warrior than you might think.” He followed her gaze through the haze of darkness, amazed at how quickly it all seemed to disappear. “In fact, I reckon he is far safer now than we are meant to be.”

“Did the two of you grow up together?”

Despite himself, Him chuckled. “I wouldn’t exactly say we grew up, or at least I didn’t anyway. Gwydion was always a little big for his breeches, but me...” he looked ahead of them and it seemed to take forever for him to return to his thoughts. “I don’t think I grew up until I met you.”

Warmth rushed into her cheeks, a conflict against the chill and damp that numbed the flesh. Instead of directly responding, or even acknowledging his outright flirtation, she remained steadfast and kept her eyes on the expanding darkness before them.

He was so worried for you,” she murmured. “I think he felt as though it was his duty to protect you.”

“Aye.” Him nodded, and for a moment she couldn’t determine the meaning behind the shine of his eyes. He blinked then and looked over her right shoulder into the darkness that awaited them. Without another word he turned her away and guided her forward without looking back again.

Meredith didn’t look back either, though she wanted to. Soon the sound of rushing water beneath the bridge swallowed the snarls and whoops of the small band of attackers on shore. The old boards moaned under their steps, and Meredith was terrified. The river below was black as pitch and the peaks of its furious current seemed to almost hungrily leap for them at each sound of board strain. The fact that she was looking down did nothing to quell her anxiety. Darkening air hung about them like a damp cloak that grew only heavier with each step, and when Him paused with a sharp intake of breath she had no choice but to lift her eyes and face that which awaited them.

“What is it?”

“Hard to tell,” he paused at the edge of a wide gap rotted in the planks. “Could have just been the trees.” He calculated the width and then leapt across before holding out his hands to help her along.

She swallowed her inhibitions and jumped across. “Can you actually see the trees?”

“Barely, but if you look closely you can see their outlines.”

Meredith followed the length of his finger, but it was no use. It was as if each step they took only opened long enough to receive them before it closed the space behind them again.

“I’ve never seen darkness like this.” She fell into cautious step beside Him, all the while curiously taking in their strange surroundings. “It’s like we’ve stepped into some kind of void.”

“Yes,” he said. 

Old wood groaned and splintered under their weight, and his hand tightened on the waistline of her tunic. He hurried her forward, each guided step more determined and dangerous than the last until the final stretch was just in sight.

Meredith half-expected to find those final steps to be the worst part of the bridge, however they were smooth and unblemished, providing a much more stable transition to the mist-enshrouded shore. The fog mingled with the darkness, twirling a haze of grey that only parted as they passed through it.

Him said he could make out the outline of the trees, but she couldn’t see them at all and inwardly began to fret that once they set foot on the ground they would wind up lost before they even left the river’s side. She found it hard to believe there was anything ahead of them at all, and it was at that moment that she caught movement, like a shadow, dart across the landscape ahead.

“Did you see that?”

Him didn’t answer at first, but swallowed heavily and lowered his head in a single nod, “I did.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

Meredith swallowed, and her throat ached from the damp. It was hard to believe that just hours ago the two of them had lain safely in each other’s arms asleep, and now it was like the night itself had taken place years in the past, and the security that had come with it fled at morning’s first light. She drew even nearer to Him, pressed her side against his and felt grateful when his arm lowered over her shoulders.

Moments later the shadow she had seen dart across the distance became central and it seemed as if it was coming toward them. Him said nothing, but the look they shared was a brief acknowledgement of each other’s awareness. Whatever it was seemed to have spotted them, and there was no turning back, and then the short echo of a distant voice called out to them.

The echo sounded out several times, every few steps it seemed until Meredith clearly made out a long, resounding “Halloo.”

“Be on your guard,” Him warned, stepping forward so that she was angled behind him. “It’s not likely there is anything friendly in this place.”

She only nodded and continued to step cautiously behind him. The shadowy figure grew closer and though there was still a definite darkness that clung to the air, it seemed that her eyes were adjusting to the world they were about to enter into. The hollow emptiness of the echoed greeting resounded louder, and it seemed as if whoever called out to them had added further inquiry into his call.

“Halloo,” again, and then, “Who goes there?” He said something else after that, but neither Meredith nor Him was able to make it out.

“It is likely some trick of Kothar’s,” Him noted in a whisper.

A long series of jarbled words reverberated around them, but she was actually able to make out the final few: “... seeks her royal majesty, the queen.”

“Something about a queen,” she said to Him.

“Strange.” The two of them stopped in their tracks, the end of the bridge in clear site, and so was their visitor. “He is an elf,” Him muttered.

“An elf?”

“A rare find on this side of the bridge, to be sure. It has been said that all who ventured here were lost.” Him held his hand up in command and cried out, “Halt. Who approaches?”

The elf hobbled into view, a withered and decrepit being. The sight of him touched Meredith’s heart the way many pathetic things like hurt kittens and broken-winged birds did. She tilted her head sympathetically and stepped forward just a little. She might have gone further had Him not hedged into her from the side to keep her in place.

As he approached, Gorigast craned his neck upward and toward her in such a way that the simple movement cracked his joints. He looked Meredith over as if he were drowning her in the pools of those strange, dark eyes. When his gaze moved past her, it lingered long over Him, and though she couldn’t prove it from a simple gesture, it was as though there were a hint of recognition in him then—as if he just remembered he knew them from somewhere. His pink tongue darted out quickly to moisten his chapped, bottom lip, and then once more he looked at Meredith and moved his mouth into what she could only assume was a smile.

“She’s come, at last she’s come,” and then he bowed at the waist, so low that his nose nearly touched the wooden frame of the bridge. “Her Majesty has arrived”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” Meredith laughed, “but I am afraid you have mistaken me for someone else, for I am no queen.”

“Oh, no, ‘tis no mistake,” he insisted. “I would recognize my lady queen anywhere.”

“And just who are you?” Him demanded.

The elf’s dark eyes cast contempt on her companion, and then he shrank back as if chastised rather than asked to identify himself. “Who am I, who am I, and a queen who says she’s not a queen? Such questions Sir Hunter, and no trust in your heart.”

Meredith’s hand reached for Him’s forearm, a subtle gesture that seemed to ask him to relax his inquisition. “We are mere travelers on our way through the Wald to find my sister,” she said. “She was brought here against her will by goblins and is being held in the king’s castle as we speak.”

He scratched at his balding scalp with a dirty fingernail while contemplating what she’d said. “None who’ve come against their will can be held by goblins or their king.”

Meredith narrowed her eyes curiously over the creature before them, the pity in her heart growing heavier by the moment. Before she could react, Him urged her back to life, “We should be on our way.”

“On your way,” the elf sniggered into his grime encrusted hands. “Where will you go, Hunter? For surely you know there are none who pass freely through the Wald.”

“We will make our way the best we can,” Him started forward and the two of them pressed past the elf as he pressed against the side railing to allow them passage.

He waited until they were on the last planks of the bridge before he called out, “Then you will surely die.”

“So be it then.”

“So be it then, says the fool as he steps into the mouth of a dragon.” He started after them, his small legs carrying him quickly. “So be it then, but there are other ways.”

Him ignored the elf, but Meredith stayed him with her hand. He cast a desperate look over his shoulder at her, but she had already turned around.

“You say there are other ways,” she began.

“Other ways, yes, simpler ways straight to the castle, yes.”

“And will you show us?”

“Merry, no.” Him pleaded. “It’ll be a trick, no doubt.”

“No tricks, simply a service to my queen.”

“Your queen,” she sighed. “But I have already told you, I am not this queen you believe me to be.”

“Silly Majesty,” he laughed. “I would know your face anywhere.”

“All right.” She lifted her face to the dark, empty sky and struggled with the knowledge that not too long ago it had been morning. “Then for your queen, will you show us the way to the castle?”

Him leaned close and whispered against her cheek, “Meredith, don’t…”

She knew she should listen to Him, but there was something about the elf that intrigued her. Despite his strange and sudden appearance, there was trustworthiness in his eyes that she found hard to resist.