The Goblin Market (Into the Green) (25 page)

“Then it is a good thing this young fellow came along.”

The minstrel agreed as well with a furious nod, and then he turned toward the pathway. He strummed the strings of his lute in melodic sequence, his fake, black smile beaming back over his shoulder at them.

“Lead the way, kind sir.” Meredith laughed as he picked up his feet.

The minstrel became giddy, as if with laughter, and his head bobbed up and down.

“Just don’t lead us astray,” Him added.

When the minstrel heard those words, he tilted his head in tragic disappointment, the long corners of his mouth drawn downward. He struck a sorrowful note on his lute that seemed to echo through the Wald.

“Of course you would not do that, little friend,” Him apologized. “Shall we move onward then?”

As he stepped aside and gestured them forward, the Minstrel ducked onto the pathway, which at first promised to be suffocated and close with humidity and dark.

Neither Meredith nor Him seemed to notice the desperate rustle near the bottom of the hedgerow to their right, as if someone or something worked quickly to disguise their presence. They were both wrapped up in the giddy song that led their way, the minstrel’s lithe fingers plucking out a happy tune. The tune was repetitive, but quickly blended with their footsteps until it felt as if the music itself carried them on their way.

“That is a lovely tune,” she commented as they hedgerows began to thin out, revealing a vast wall of twisted trees on either side of the path. It was a more open path than any they had been on so far, and the absence of thick plant life clinging to the dank and merciless air drew the claustrophobic fear from Meredith’s mind.

For the first time her mind was clear and she was able to think. She wondered what time it was then, and how many hours had elapsed since they had stepped into the Wald. Was her sister really okay? Would she see her again soon?

All the while the minstrel played on, the deliberate nature of his constant tune carrying them on their way.

“You know,” she started, her voice quiet with contemplation. “When I was a small girl I used to dream of this world. My mother would just sit and listen to my stories, and that was all I believed them to be, but now...”

“Now you think they may have been memories?”

She shook her head, “I’m not sure. I haven’t thought of those dreams in so long I can barely remember them and if it weren’t for my sister and all of this…” She lifted her gaze upward and glanced behind them, momentarily distracted by the world wending to life in their wake. “If it weren’t for all this, I might never have thought of them again. What if I had never come back to this world, or never discovered that there was a whole side of me lying dormant and forgotten?”

Him didn’t know how to answer, so instead he just took her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. The sound of the minstrel’s music carried them forward, but life was catching up to them, springing up under their feet as they stepped. Birds made themselves known, the perfect compliment to the minstrel’s song laying out the path before them, and Meredith knew in her heart that no matter what happened, or where she ended up, she would never again forget who she really was or where she belonged.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The minstrel’s music guided their footsteps along the winding pathway. Sometimes the Darknjan Wald felt wide and spacious, and in other places everything was so tightly crammed together that the foliage itself seemed about to close in upon them.

Meredith had no idea what time it was, as the silver light in the sky told her nothing. The castle couldn’t be much further. They would make it, and she would save her sister but then what? Christina would remember it as nothing more than a fevered dream, but not Meredith. She had been avoiding the thought of Kothar, and what might come of facing him.

She’d bargained her life away to save her sister, and based on everything she learned during her journey, Kothar was not going to let her just walk out of the Wald when all was said and done. In fact, she was certain he would put up a fight and she wondered for a moment if Him would stand for her. She only needed to glance over at him to know the answer. It was clear in his eyes that when all was said and done, he would never let her out of his sight again.

She tried to imagine it in her mind, what it might be like to spend all eternity Underground with her heart of hearts. Her daydream saw them living happily ever after in a cottage by some gurgling stream. The excitement warmed her inside. She never imagined her own future could be so perfect. She never dreamed she could be happy and free like Christina.

Wrapped in her daydream, she was surprised when they came out of the green and entered into a wide, desolate field. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and survey the distance that lie ahead. There was a large body of water in the distance, and beyond it lie snow-capped peaks. Perched behind the rippling lake, there was a dark copse of tangled trees, and nestled within their branches stood a black and shining structure, both hideous and beautiful to behold.

“Is that…” She swallowed the apprehension that rose into her throat. “It is, isn’t it?”

So close, and yet still so far, the part of her that set out in search of Kothar’s castle seemed to duck back inside her to hide. Its image was confirmation of what lie ahead, that the slow daydream of their journey together was nearing its completion, and though she wanted nothing more than to save her sister as she set out to do, she was afraid of what came next.

“We have quite a ways to go,” Him said. “And there is the Nether Lake to cross.”

In front of them the minstrel strummed and fingered the same chords over and over, a lost hypnotic melody that put strange words into Meredith’s mind.

Follow, follow me—follow, follow me
.

Was it just her imagination, or was there some spellbinding power to the minstrel’s song.

Behind them, lengths of vine that wrapped and climbed the trees rustled, startling her as she turned around half expecting a repeat attack like the one she’d faced before. Instead, a second minstrel crawled out of the trees as if the lute’s song beckoned him forward. He played a wooden pipe in answer to the song, filling the emptiness between the first minstrel’s hollow notes.

In appearance he was almost identical to the first minstrel, but subtle differences set them apart. Where the original minstrel had only the semblance of a mouth, this new minstrel who joined them had come a-piping, and at the end of his long, wooden pipe were two very real lips. Just above his nose there were the sketches of two very realistic looking eyes, blue irises flecked in gold and green, kohl thick under the lids and lashes. The painted on eyes shone and sparkled just like real eyes should have done, and though she knew that it wasn’t possible, Meredith thought he winked at her as he approached.

He strolled methodically toward the sound of his companion’s music, and then they both stopped playing. They regarded one another with strange, painted faces, and then they took up their instruments together and began to play again.

Behind them the vines rustled again, bringing the rhythmic beat of a drum to keep time between the flue and lute. It pounded and throbmed, popped and bopped, revealing a third minstrel, this one taller and thinner than the other two. Both eyes and mouth were penciled upon his face with thick black kohl and red berry stains upon the lips. The three musicians fed upon each other’s energy, filling the desolate valley with song.

“This is all very fascinating,” Merry said, “But we really should be moving on.”

“We should,” Him agreed.

They started toward the musical trio, and Meredith cleared her throat, politely at first so as not to offend them, but after a moment of no recognition at all she cleared it again, and this time the mighty sound echoed into silence as their song halted. Two false gazes turned toward her as though they could see.

“Hello.” She felt nervous and sorry to have broken up the merry sound of their music. “Hello, I’m sorry that I have bothered your lovely concert, but it’s just that we should be moving on now.”

The minstrel with an actual mouth held up his hands, shrugged his shoulders and then nodded, as if to indicate that he understood. For a moment the three minstrels exchanged a myriad of gestures, some of which made sense, while others only furthered the confusion Meredith struggled with as she watched them. At last their original friend looked to her and pointed to each of his companions individually, and then wiggled his fingers upside down like walking legs.

“You would like for your friends to come with us?” She asked.

The minstrel nodded eagerly.

“Will you still lead us toward the castle?”

Once more he nodded in what appeared to be a deep willingness to please her. His fellow minstrels also nodded, and they wore eerie smiles that sent shivers through Meredith.

She looked to Him for guidance, and he shrugged.

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t accompany us. Their music has been a most welcomed release from the silence.”

“Then it is settled,” she turned back to their friend. “Your friends are welcome.” And she thought he had smiled gleefully at her, even though she knew he didn’t really have a mouth.

The three minstrels took up their instruments again, and as they marched forward into the Darknjan Wald, they filled the air around them with music. Meredith and Him followed a few paces behind them and enjoyed the simple merriment of their tune. It wasn’t long at all before a fourth instrument joined them, a second lute strummed skillfully by another of the white faced minstrels.

She looped her arm through Him’s and grinned up at him before she lifted her right foot behind her, kicked it out straight, then to the left, to the right, and then left once again. She sprung into dance and he laughed to see her so alive. She pirouetted and watched the colorful twirl of her dress flare out and then turn back in again. She couldn’t remember the last time she had danced with such freedom.

“I hardly know what’s come over me.” She threw back her head a little and the sound of her delight echoed all through every crack and crevice, and the hollow corridors of the Darknjan Wald.

“It is the music,” Him assured her. “Music has magic all its own.”

She danced beside him until he circled his arm about her waist and the two of them twisted, turned and bowed through the Darknjan Wald as though it were a ballroom, rather than a cursed forest full of hatred and bitterness.

It had been ages since certain parts of the Darknjan Wald had seen such joy and merrymaking, and those places curled in delight, while other parts cringed away in clear dissonance. It was as if those places knew that somewhere the goblin king, master of the Darknjan Wald, would not be pleased by the delights therein his place of misery. Conflicted by its own differences, vines groaned while leaves danced and stones tapped to the melody of the silent minstrels.

One by one more and more minstrels came out of the Darknjan Wald to join them. When next Meredith looked there were six where there had been only four. Soon after, there were eight, and then ten, until an entire fleet of minstrels marched before them. The music grew into a grand concert, and she was so caught up in laughter that she believed nothing in the world could ever go wrong. Not as long as the minstrels went on playing, and she and Him went on dancing their joyous jig.

The music lifted their feet, and almost unconsciously they passed through field. Meredith felt uplifted, and her confidence was renewed. Growing in the back of her mind she saw the end result of her journey through the Darknjan Wald in her favor. She could picture herself and her sister both standing in the clearing where the Goblin Market had been, but there were no signs of any such place. There was a golden sun that shown down on an endless sea of rippling wheat. It grew in tall stalks all around them and whispered secrets long forgotten into the breeze.

Him was waiting for her at the edge of the forest, waiting for her to say goodbye to her sister and come home with him where she belonged. And she could go. She could do it because her sister was safe and her future was already designed.

It was the loveliest vision Meredith ever had, so lovely that she could feel herself smiling, but then just as quickly her smile faded.

It was as if some precognitive essence startled her reflexes into action, but she didn’t understand the feeling, and so she couldn’t react to it properly. She didn’t know what to do, and she finally told herself that she would no longer acknowledge the faltering of her own confidence.

She crossed her arms defiantly against the feeling. She and Him had stopped dancing for the moment, long enough to catch their breath and note that they had come to a broken down dock. In grave decay, the old wooden boards cracked and crumbled, and trails of mold and fungi discolored the outside.

Beyond the dock was the darkest, most hideously beautiful body of water Meredith had ever seen—wide and black as pitch, it was still as the night is long and just as dark.

One by one the minstrels stopped playing until there was a distressing silence. It pressed in on them from all sides and Meredith felt she had no choice but to recognize the angst that snuck up on her just moments before. Her arms were still crossed, her glare more defiant than ever. She shook her head in disbelief and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

The original minstrel who had befriended them wove and pushed his way through the crowd that now accompanied him. He flung his lute over his back and the way he walked seemed almost like a waddle, she thought. When he approached, he held out his arms on both sides, and then raised them slowly over his head into a peak, and then he turned around and pointed across the vast and endless body of water.

Beyond the opposite shore of the lake she could make out the outline of a tower, a tower from which she was more than certain Kothar was watching them. She scowled in the direction of that tower, and hoped with all her might that he saw her face and felt the ill-will she wished upon him.