The Goblin Market (Into the Green) (7 page)

“I beg your pardon, sir!” she cried. “I am no goblin!”

“How can we be sure?”

“I could ask the same of you,” she retorted. “How do I know you’re not goblins?”

The pixie ascended to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. The slight curve of his spine indicated great pride and insult, but the fact that he barely met her chin and was splattered in mud caused Meredith to suppress her amusement.

“Well,” she huffed, “I don’t look like a goblin either.”

The green-skinned one had not stopped grinning since she’d spoken, Meredith noticed, and it was he who held a hand out and offered to help her stand.

“I think it’s safe to assume that none of us are goblin-kind.”

She studied his hand, the slender fingers and dirt blackening the area beneath his short fingernails. As his index finger twitched in impatience, she noticed the scars that decorated his skin and wondered just who… or what he was. She reached in and accepted his hand, and as he helped Meredith to her feet, she winced and moaned in agony with the stretch and flex of every muscle.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded. “Now, if we are all agreed not to be goblins, I feel proper introductions are in order.” Still clutching her hand, he bowed dramatically low before her and said, “I am Him.”

“Him?”

“Him of the Green,” he elaborated as he came back up to meet her eyes. “At your service, milady.”

Having already suffered the offense of the little one by wondering if he were a goblin hallucination, Meredith felt she could not question the validity of a name like Him.

“And my noble companion and servant is Sir Gwydion Dale, ranger and goblin slayer.”

“Sir Dale,” Meredith gave in to a small curtsy. “I am Meredith, Meredith Drexler.”

“We are please to make your acquaintance, Lady Meredith, Meredith Drexler.” Him lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss atop her knuckles.

Before she could even linger on the gesture, or feel the low simmer of her blood, the pixie interjected. “Uplanders! What strange folk to name their children twice.”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Meredith, Meredith Drexler,” he repeated her name back to her. “Would it not have been more logical to name you Meredith only once? It seems rather redundant.”

“But they did name me Meredith only once.”

“You said...”

“Nevermind what she said,” Him interrupted. “What brings you Underground, Meredith Drexler?”

“Underground?” she played that word over in her mind, and then craned her neck over her shoulder to look for the small hill where their cottage rested. All that lay behind her was the Goblin Market—a hideous broken mess of upturned carts, pulp and bruised fruit. She scanned her surroundings for some sign of home, but there was nothing familiar about the world around her at all. “I...” she paused for a moment to try and gather her thoughts. “My sister was taken by the goblin’s king, Kothar.”

“Kothar,” Him and Gwydion replied in simultaneous disgust.

“You know of him?”

“Indeed,” Him replied. “You say he took your sister?”

“Yes.” Meredith felt the breeze now on her skin, and it chilled her in her soaked cloak and dress. “He said I was to be his bride, but when I refused him, he took her. Now I am on my way through the Darknjan Wald to find his castle.”

“The Darknjan Wald?” Gwydion shrieked. “Are you mad, lady?”

“I beg your pardon.”

Him intervened, “The Darknjan Wald is beyond dangerous, Meredith. None who enter are ever seen again, and those who do manage to make their way back to its edge are never the same.”

 “I cannot leave my sister to die by his hand. He should have taken me in her stead. It was me he wanted.”

“You?” Gwydion turned over his shoulder and looked up at Him.

“You are
her
,” Him astounded. “She for whom he searches… for whom this entire hideous market was created.”

“I don’t understand."

“There is a story as old as the war that divided our kingdom. I can’t explain it, not in anyway that would make sense,” he shrugged. “My brother, Sylvanus, he is the Great Historian. I am a simple hunter with no tongue for lore. I can take you to him. It isn’t far, and you’ve been injured. There are healers there, and rest.”

“Milord, I must advise against this... Sylvanus will not be...”

“Quiet yourself, Sir Gwydion Dale!”

Abashed, the pixie withdrew and muttered under his breath.

Meredith wanted to resist, feared that any time wasted would further doom her sister, but at the mere mention of her injuries, the stings, aches, throbs and pains awakened all over her body. The uncertain blurriness of her once poisoned mind made her feel as though she were one step away from defeat already, and when she looked into Him's eyes, his deep gaze seemed to comfort her.

“I will take you to meet with Sylvanus, and after you have rested, I will show you to the Darknjan Wald myself.” Him promised.

“Are you mad, milord?” Gwydion nudged his companion in the shin with an elbow. “The Darknjan Wald?”

“It is her eyes.” Him didn’t look away from her face. “They enchant me, compel me.”

“Don’t mind him,” Gwydion said.

“Not now, Gwydion.” Him twitched his leg, shoving the pixie away. “What do you say? Finding the Wald alone will be nearly impossible for you as it is. You will have rest and a guide, fresh provisions, as it appears that yours have been tainted.” He gestured toward the pack she’d brought, the soaked crumbs of bread and the squished cheese lie in puddles of toxic juice.

Meredith grappled with her choices. She knew he was right. Kothar himself had said she would probably never reach the Darknjan Wald alive. Perhaps with Him's help, she would have a better chance of saving her sister.

A smile tugged at her pale, bruised mouth, and she nodded. “I accept your offer, and will meet with this brother of yours.”

“Wonderful!” He clapped his hands together.

Sir Gwydion Dale crossed his arms and shook his head, as he muttered the words, “One day you will be the death of us both, Him of the Green. I get the feeling that day is not so far away as I would like it to be.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Meredith rung as much of the water from her cloak and dress as she could, but as they started on their journey to see the Historian, Sylvanus, she felt a great chill and an ache in her head. She was silent as they traveled, barely even listening as her strange new companions bickered back and forth like agitated siblings, rather than servant and master. Her distracted mind played over the events of the last few hours and the things that seemed to tie everything together.

The song her mother scolded her for as a child, the one about a goblin king searching for a bride. Kothar claimed to be searching for her, and when Him mentioned that the market was created for her—that she was the one the goblin king searched for—a bizarre sense of recognition rippled through.

The instances must be related, but as Meredith tried to wrap her mind around it, her head felt strange and fuzzy. She could only hope Him’s brother had answers for her.

As they traveled the pixie glared up at her from time to time. The bitterness of his stare made her feel uncomfortable, especially when Him leaned nearer to her and said, “Don’t mind Sir Sourpuss. He’s just angry because our meeting with you postponed our annual hunt.”

She glanced down at Sir Gwydion. “I apologize for interfering with your plans.”

“As if that were the only thing of concern,” Gwydion pursed his lips tightly together and puffed in dismissal. “Lord Reckless will see us to our death before the night is through, I am sure.”

 “Were we not ingrained with chivalric code before we could even speak?” Him asked the pixie. “It was our duty to do right by this maiden.”

The words that next escaped Sir Gwydion were hidden under frustrated sighs and a furrowed brow. Him ignored the pixie, and returned his attention to Meredith.

“You know, I’ve never met an Uplander before. I want to know everything about you and your life.”

“There really isn’t much to tell,” she began. “I’ve lived a rather simple life until now.”

“Until now? Do you mean that this is your first real adventure?”

The enthusiasm in his face sparked a hint of excitement inside her as well, but she tried to stifle it with reason. “I don’t know that I would call it an adventure.”

“You’ve faced the goblin king and his wicked market all in one night. I’d say you’re off to quite an adventurous start.” He grinned. “Tell me about your sister.”

“My sister.” A thoughtful sigh escaped her as knots of worry tightened inside Meredith’s stomach. “Christina loves to make mischief and get herself into trouble, obviously. I’ve spent the better part of sixteen years following behind her and cleaning things up.”

“You are a good sister.”

“She hasn’t anyone else. Our mother passed in childbirth and our father...”

Him waited well into her long silence before asking, “Your father, do tell me about him. What is he like?”

“I don’t know.” Her tone gave way to bitterness. “Not much of a father at all, I suppose. It’s been years now since he left us alone.”

Astonished, Him lifted his arm in comfort across her back and asked, “But who cares for you, if not your father?”

“I care for things.” Meredith had not been so candid with anyone in all her life, she realized, and there was a brief flash when she asked herself why she was spilling her life’s story to this strange, green man with antlers and a pronoun for a name. She cleared her throat then, and nodded with certainty. “I take care of Christina, and myself. It hasn’t always been easy, but I’ve done my best.”

Until now
, a silent, guilty voice inside her whispered
.

That silent voice put a stop to her willingness to chatter, and she turned to Him and asked, “Tell me about yourself, please? I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“There are no Hunters in the Upland?” He wagged the thin arc of his brow at her.

“Well, we have men who hunt, but I suppose if you are a Hunter, then no, there are none like you where I come from.”

“How peculiar.”

“And no pixies either.”

Sir Gwydion Dale seemed rather put out when he replied with, “You don’t say?”

“In fact, there are no creatures of extraordinary greatness at all where I come from,” she told them. “Only animals, birds, fish... human beings.”

“There is nothing ordinary about human beings,” Him said.

“Chrissy claimed once that she saw a faerie at the edge of our garden. She was very small, and I didn’t believe her, but I suppose it is possible, isn’t it?”

“Quite possible,” Him nodded. “Especially if you are who I think you are. A guard was probably sent to watch over you.”

She was still baffled by his curious talk about her hidden association with Kothar and the Goblin Market.

“The Fae travel Upland all the time. They are fascinated by the odd lives humans lead, and from time to time they have been known to disappear into the human world, completely devoured by their own fascination.”

“Or their desire to wreak havoc and carry on mischief,” Sir Gwydion added.

“I’ve never been myself,” he explained. “To the Upland, I mean. I’ve a brother who’s been, but all the tales I know have come from the elders, from those who used to travel freely between our world and yours.”

After all she had been through in her short time Underground, she couldn’t imagine a single dazzling thing about the world she came from to compare or even lure the magnificent creatures Upland.

The Goblin Market faded with every step, the misted path they followed devouring it bite by bite. The grass was still green, though perhaps it was a lusher shade of green, and beside them loomed what she believed to be the very forest at the edge of the valley she and Christina had often dipped into to gather wild mushrooms. There was something different about it though, something she felt rather than saw, and it tingled against her skin as if the life around her reached beyond the veil of invisibility to touch and become one with her.

She looked toward the darkening sky, the black cloud edged in the gold of a setting sun.

She drew air into her lungs and held it. When she finally sighed, it was as she began to speak, “The Upland, as you call it, is not so different than here. This place is more alive, I think. It’s more alive than anyplace I have ever been.”

Even she was surprised by the spring in her step when she looped around, the magic in the air inspiring her to forget her pain and troubles for a moment.

“I feel the trees breathing, the heart of the earth beneath my feet, and if I stretched high enough, I know I could pluck the stars right from your sky, but where I come from, stars are out of reach, and the earth speaks to no one, and trees... trees are trees and nothing more.”

Him was preoccupied by her description. “I see.”

Silence swirled in around them as they journeyed on. Meredith was distracted by the call of birds in the trees above and droplets of rainwater falling from the leaves onto the earth below. The wood they traveled beside grew darker with every step, and frog songs echoed from their nearby marshy home. It was a night orchestra unlike any she ever heard before, and it lightened her spirit.

“It is so beautiful here,” she murmured.

Him glanced downward at Meredith, his mouth twitching into an inspired grin as he admitted, “Yes, but tonight it seems more beautiful than it ever has before.”

“Oh, please.” Sir Gwydion moaned.

Meredith's face flushed with the warmth of flirtation. It must have been something in the air, or the lingering poison still in her blood that made her act so bold. She became suddenly conscious of their closeness as they walked together, the taut, well-defined muscles of Him’s arm stretching against the free swing of their movement. She breathed in the earthy smell that clung to him—like the rich essence that always seemed to precede a storm. It was a comforting smell, both natural and enticing, and the prickling awareness of desire pulsed in her belly.