The Goblin Market (Into the Green), Page 2

  He looked down the length of his slender nose at her, one eye hidden beneath the sleek cut of his ebony hair, while the other reflected the light back at her. The slow wind moved through his hair to reveal the other eye, milk white beneath the slice of a hideous scar.

  She shied back with a frightened intake of breath that forced her to swallow the mouthful of berries she’d only just pushed between her teeth.

  “I had no coin… and the little man, help yourself, he said…” Her frightened voice tapered off into a whisper. “He said to help myself.”

  “No coin, said he?” Amusement colored the man’s tone. “But surely you didn’t think that meant no payment.”

  Christina wrenched herself from his grasp and dove toward a display of juicy grapes. She popped one into her mouth and then another, her teeth busting through the skin as the juices exploded against her taste buds. “I’ve never tasted grapes so sweet.”

  “Perhaps the color of your eyes,” he said, “or a year’s worth of memories.”

  Her jaw tightened as she turned to look back at him over her shoulder. “Who are you?”

  “I am Kothar,” pride lifted his sharp chin. “I am king.”

  Laughter bubbled from deep inside of her so powerful that even she was surprised by the sound of its peals echoing off the silent hillside. “A king, you say?” She croaked and clutched her sides, which ached with her own unexpected amusement.

  Kothar’s gaze narrowed over her, and his mouth tightened with disdain. “Not a king. The king.” A throng of shadows circled around him and stared hungrily at Christina. “Name a fair price for the damages done here tonight,” he urged the small army behind him.

  “Three of her curls!” A sluggish voice leapt from the crowd.

  “I want her teeth!” another said.

  “Let’s take her eye.”

  “Now, now,” Kothar held up a hand to stay their demands. “Perhaps the debt can be paid with truth.”

  Christina’s mind grew numb and stupid with the slow poison of indulgence. She wavered unsteadily where she stood, the spinning inside her mind making it difficult to remember even the simplest of things. She lurched sideways, her head dizzy and her belly sick. Her throat tightened and constricted with spasms of nausea, but no matter how her desperate body heaved in protest, she could not expel the goblin’s fruit from her body.

  The man in front of her stretched and wavered right before her eyes, and she reached toward him to try and steady herself. Christina tumbled forward, the fabric of his cloak slipping through her trembling fingers. When next she turned her head, she was on the ground staring up at him.

  “Tsk, tsk,” Kothar tutted.

  Thoughts circled through her mind as the market around her spun. Once around, twice and then she saw the distant orange glow from the lantern Meredith had hung out to guide her home.

  “Merry,” a limp hand reached toward the light. “Help me.”

  Clear, powerful laughter wrapped in a collection of jagged chuckles circled around her.

  “Even now the poison of your own greed creeps slowly through your veins.” Kothar knelt over her. A sharp grin sliced across his expression. “It’s only a matter of time before you sleep.”

  “I…” Words felt like briars in her mouth. “I want to go home.”

  “Of course you do,” there was no sympathy in his tone. “But first we require payment for what you’ve taken.”

  The sound of a thousand ragged voices seeking vengeance caroused around her. Terrified she tried to draw her hands up over her face, but even they were numb and heavy as lead on the ground beside her. Her body began to wretch and heave to no avail, and though she tried in desperate horror to gain control of her senses it was no use.

  Above her, the king reached into the folds of his cloak and brought forth a locket. Unclasped, the hinge swung open to reveal a faded image painted within. Christina’s eyes could scarcely focus on the picture, but there was no denying the golden rings of hair, thin oval face and perfect smile.

  “Merry,” she whispered, reaching for the locket in Kothar’s hand.

  Kothar swiped his hand away, the locket clicking closed within. His unscarred eye grew wide with curious excitement as he studied the portrait inside. “You know this girl?”

  Christina swallowed against the dryness in her throat and rasped, “Merry.”

  “Her name is Merry, you say?”

  Her head felt so strange that she couldn’t even feel it move in agreement.

  “Where can I find this Merry?”

  She tried to say no, but her eyes betrayed her when she looked toward the distant lantern atop the hill. Kothar’s gaze followed, his lower lip trembling as the slow wind whispered through the hair that fell loose upon his cheek.

  “Glorngk, bring the girl water,” Kothar commanded before he pushed up off the ground and hovered beside her. His gaze was still fixed on the swaying lantern, fist clenched around the chain that held the locket.

  Christina’s eyes felt heavy and thick with tears. Her mind was even thicker; the thoughts trudging through it like heavy boots in quicksand. She was going to die, but it had been worth it. She would do it again too, all for the taste of a single berry, and then a rush of cold, slick water washed across her face. The water was rank and stagnant, but she swallowed greedily, choking as the creature continued to pour.

  Clarity flickered through her mind, and though very little made sense, she felt strong enough to pull herself up from the ground.

  And then she was standing, and with the last bit of strength she had, she began to stagger away from the market, in the direction of the swaying lantern on the hilltop. Her legs felt like heavy tree trunks growing roots each time one of her feet touched the ground and behind her the hypnotic song of the market began to play once more.

  “Should we stop her, Sire?”

  “No,” Kothar shook his head. “Follow her to the house on the hill and wait for me there.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Meredith told herself when she sat down to read, she wasn’t going to fall asleep in the chair. Even as the hour grew, she resisted the temptation to look at the clock every few minutes and reminded herself that Mrs. Grisham loved to dote on Christina. The woman adored her little sister, and would do everything she could to keep her there for supper, and afterward she would have Wilhelm walk her home, but Meredith worried nonetheless.

  Christina had a careless way about her sometimes and was always getting into trouble no matter how carefully everyone else seemed to watch her.

  After hanging out the lantern, Meredith settled into the chair beside the fireplace with her favorite book. The book belonged to her mother when she was a girl, and the decades of use and appreciation showed heavily on a cover so worn the gold-embossed title had almost completely rubbed off.

  Meredith was rereading her favorite story, a tale of two princes in competition for the love of a goddess disguised as a young peasant girl. The princes were brothers and the enmity between them so strong that not even the blood bond they shared was powerful enough to bring them back together. As the younger brother was thrown from his horse in the midst of his most dangerous task, Meredith leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She hugged the book to her chest and felt herself easily begin to drift off to sleep.

  Dreams set in quickly, and Meredith found herself swaying between bodies on a crowded ballroom floor. She reacted stiffly to the gloved hand that clutched her close, but soon the masked stranger twirled her elegantly through a host of bizarre faces. They spun again and leaned into a dip before he drew her upright and once again they spiraled across the dance floor palm to palm. Fur-faced creatures with sharp, pointed ears and sunken eyes mingled with gawping cat-eyed women who purred with laughter as they swirled around Meredith and her mysterious partner.

  Far off in the night she heard the lonely gong of a bell tower striking once, twice, thrice, and for a moment her mind grasped for some meaning in the bell’s toll.

 
Four, five, six clangs of the bell against the silent night.

  Time.

  Seven, eight, nine…

  Elegant couples swished and swayed this way and that in perfect mimicry of some grand, high gala.

  Ten, eleven, twelve…yes, twelve.

  Twelve o’clock, but where was Christina?

  A silent pause lingered after the echo of the twelfth bell, and she felt there should have been something more, something else to follow, but nothing came. It was as though in that single moment time stopped to catch its breath. Her dance partner surged forward, causing Meredith to stumble over herself. Echoes of cackling laughter rippled through the dream until they were completely silenced by a thunderous thud that brought Meredith out of her dream gasping desperately for air.

  Like time, she too had been holding her breath.

  The book fell from her lap onto the floor. Meredith blinked drowsily through the remnants of dream still clinging to the slow spur of consciousness fluttering in her mind. Ears burning, heart throbbing, a droplet of sweat rolled down her side from just under her arm into the fabric of her shift. She shuddered, a bodily attempt to ring the last bits of that strange dream from her mind, and then she heard the song. Slow. Melodic. Not quite a waltz. The instrument was a distant human voice.

  She sat upright in the chair and scanned the room, her eyes immediately drawn to the wide opened door.

  Chilled air mixed with the fire’s warmth and pried at her bedclothes like fingers. Meredith clutched the fabric of her nightgown closer and started for the door.

  “Christina?”

  The humming followed as Meredith stepped up to the door and gripped the heavy oak in her hands. Bare feet cringed against the slab of flagstone just outside the cottage and she scanned the garden with curious, careful eyes. The lantern she had hung out for her sister wavered against the slow wind, the flame flickering low on its wick.

  She had no idea how much time passed since she’d fallen asleep, but a surge of fear gripped her. It was dark and if her sister had not yet returned, where could she be?

  The song ebbed out to meet her again, and she realized it came from inside the cottage.

  “Chrissy?” She called over her shoulder.

  Still standing in the doorway, Meredith looked up at the display of clouds passing away from the face of the near full moon. Pale light reached beyond the wavering ring around the celestial body and shone softly over the dry and ragged remains of last year’s garden. Her eye was drawn to a small form in the shadows that hopped into a strand of light, revealing its long ears and twitching nose. She sighed relief, and then reached up to take down the lantern.

  “Christina?”

  One day that girl was going to learn that an open door in the middle of the night was like an open invitation to danger. Any manner of creature could just walk right in, from raccoons and bears to strange travelers.

  Meredith scowled, still rubbing the goose bumps from her bare arms. She closed the door and lowered the lock before walking the lantern to the table and blowing out the stubby candle inside.

  On the way to the bedroom, she noted another wide open door and shook her head. Christina was already in bed.

  “The least you could have done was woke me.” Meredith held a hand across the flickering flame of her candle to keep it from blowing out with her movement. “I hardly need to start the day with a stiff neck from sleeping in the chair all night. Sometimes you are so inconsiderate, Chrissy.”

  Candlelight infiltrated the dark bedroom, illuminating the empty bed, and inside Meredith’s heart leapt with fear. Cold air rushed forward to meet her, and the curtains ballooned out from the window on the other side of the room. The fabric fell to rest again, but therein hovered a swaying shadow. The melody came from within, Meredith realized, as the night breathed out again, exhaling the curtains into the room. It was her sister, arms hugged tight against her frame, body oscillating to the rhythm of that eerie song.

  “Christina?” She placed the candle on the bedside table. “Chrissy?”

  No answer. The girl kept humming. Meredith swallowed her fear and stepped closer, hand reaching to grasp at the curtain swaying outward again.

  “Christina, what are you doing?”

  Christina whispered, “Look, Merry, into the valley. See their lights, all gold and green? Tiny lights in the marketplace.”

  Meredith stepped up behind her sister, lowering a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What are you talking about, Chrissy? Lights in the marketplace?” She noticed immediately that the bare skin of Christina’s shoulder was exposed and cold—so cold that she withdrew her hand with a quick, startled breath. “Christina, you’re freezing. Come away from the window and get into your bedclothes.”

  “Goblin boys and goblin men,” she raised her voice above a whisper, a frantic pitch within the moonlit darkness. “They’ve set up market in the valley. Weapon makers, smithies, toymakers, and the fruit, oh Merry, the fruit…” She barely turned her head, profile bathed in watery blue light from the moon, open eyes unblinking. “I can still taste it in my mouth like it is dancing on my tongue.”

  “You aren’t making sense,” Meredith reached for her again. “Come away from the window and get back into bed before you catch your death.”

  Christina did not resist the guidance of Merry’s hands. “I saw the king, and he was terrible and dark, but so beautiful, Merry. Oh to be his queen… I would have done anything.”

  “Enough of this nonsense.” Meredith braced her sister’s shoulders and pushed her down onto the bed. “You’ll be lucky not to catch a cold. What were you thinking?” She rummaged through the drawer for a warm nightgown.

  “A real king, Merry.” Christina grasped at Meredith’s nightgown from behind. “He had your picture in his locket and he made me pay in truth. I am going to die, aren’t I?”

  “You’re not going to die, don’t be ridiculous!”

  Meredith was frightened, but she hid behind her maternal instinct and pretended to ignore the unnatural frigidness of the girl’s skin, the long tear in her blouse and dark stain upon her lips. “You are hallucinating,” she reasoned. “You must have already come down with some sickness. And no wonder too, running around in this cold half-naked.”

  “I was wicked there, perfectly unladylike.” A tiny giggle bubbled from her. “Goblin king, choose a bride. Goblin king be quick, betimes. Before the night is through, my king, choose your queen, give me your ring!”

  As the words flowed from her, Christina blinked blankly up at her sister, and Meredith trembled.

  “But he won’t, you know. He waits for the one who was promised him. No other bride but you will do.”

  “Hush now, and get into these warm clothes while I close the window.” Meredith said.

  The quiver in her voice should have given her away. Fear gripped her as the strangeness of the situation consumed her. She stepped away from the bed, went to the window and for a moment she faced the chill air and parted the curtains. She peered out into the silvering darkness. The last of the clouds parted and the swollen moon hovered just above them like a watchful mother. Long, silver rays illuminated the valley just enough that she could make out a long string of eerie green lights and several shadows stalking awkwardly in the dark.

  Behind her Christina rose, but instead of changing into her bedclothes, she twisted and turned her body, humming again, and dancing like a puppet strung up on invisible strings.

  “I feel Death’s arms around my soul and we are dancing,” Christina moaned. “So close we should be on fire, and yet he is cold. So cold, Merry. Like poison in my blood. Goblin poison.”

  Christina wavered in her balance and Meredith lunged forward quickly to catch her before she fell.

  “You’re scaring me, Chrissy.”

  It took all of Meredith’s strength to draw her sister toward the bed, and once they were there she allowed her to fall into place before leaning in over her to make sure she was still conscious. “Is it poison in m
y blood, or goblin blood run through these veins?”

  “Enough talk of goblins, Christina!”

  For a moment the girl was silent, her breath more labored than before. “It’s the poison,” she finally said. “Goblin poison… in the fruit.”

  The bedside candle flickered, glowing brighter as the hungry flame lapped the air around it. Orange light illuminated Christina’s gaunt face, revealing the hideous truth about the hue of her skin: it was blue as moonlight, darker under the ridges of her deeply sunken eyes which closed just long enough for the curved black lashes to rest atop her cheeks. Meredith had only ever seen so pale a face one other time in her life, and that face had been at her mother’s death bed.

  Suddenly the possibility of losing her sister tightened the muscles in her throat and made it hard for her to breathe. She both choked on and struggled against the air around her, and then exhaled in such a way that disturbed Christina.

  The girl’s eyes fluttered open and she licked at her stained, parched lips. “You should have seen him, Merry.”

  “Seen who, Chrissy? Who are you talking about?” she asked. “What’s really happened to you? Was it Wil? Has Wil done something wretched?” With shaking hands she brought the quilt up around her sister and tucked it close to her body. "Tell me, please."

  “Wil,” the girl sighed, her voice serene for the moment. “He’s asked me to marry him. I said I had to think…”

  “Did he hurt you, Christina?”

  “I came into the market, but I had no coins. They said to try a little taste, but I ate up all the fruit.” A strange laugh escaped her, almost like a whimper. “…and he came to me then, you know. Oh, you should have seen him. Dark and beautiful, cruel, powerful…” She rolled her head back and closed her eyes. “Like an angel, but bleaker…less holy, but not less perfect.”