The Goblin Market (Into the Green) Read online

  “Then you are not leading me astray?” She was stricken between fear and relief.

  Him’s soft laughter momentarily lightened the shadow that strangled her thoughts. “Of course, not.”

  “I want to trust you,” she admitted.

  The dark voice inside her lashed back with, but I know you’re a liar. A deceitful liar.

  “Listen to your heart, it is your heart compelling you to trust,” Him said. “It is the only way to battle the darkness. Your heart knows what is right.”

  Her heart felt constricted inside her, like a vice clamped down to squeeze the life from her, and she shook her head to resist it.

  “I do trust you.” She remembered how they saved her in the Goblin Market. If they were Kothar’s minions, would they not have used her weakness to do her in? “I trust you.”

  “I feel so stupid.” Him’s arm slid in behind her now and she relaxed against his side. “I should have warned you. I’m so sorry.”

  Her breath was labored from the fretful pounding of her heart. “I should never have doubted you, not after all you have done to help me.”

  “Even a wise man knows doubt from time to time, Meredith. It is the fool who allows it to rule his judgment.”

  Sir Gwydion shook his head and wondered aloud, “Where do you come up with this garbage?”

  Ignoring his friend, Him’s slow smile sought out Meredith’s heart. “I forgive you for doubting us, and I applaud your reason, but now we must move on, for it is not much further until we reach my brother’s realm.”

  She nodded slowly, and offered an apologetic smile, but Him went on as though nothing had happened at all. The insult quickly forgotten, he leaned close to point out a dwelling in the trees, abandoned now, but according to his brother once home to a wise crone who had advised the Oak Fathers on all matters. Gradually, the soft tone of his voice mingled with his enthusiasm, the oppression of the trees began to wane, and Meredith noticed as they traveled on there were greater gaps between the trees and a smooth, silver essence traced the canopy above. The slowly rising moon was still masked behind the leaves, and she stretched to find even the slightest hint of its body above, but no matter how she searched she couldn't find the source of that silver light.

  “Where is the moon?”

  Him laughed and paused to glance up at the openings in the treetops. “She is everywhere.”

  “But I cannot find it in the sky.”

  “Perhaps you know not where to look.”

  She felt the press of his body behind hers, and his arm lifted against her side, finger pointing toward the light, “Moon’s light is carried to our path in buckets by Moon’s daughter. She shares her mother’s light with us all.”

  “Oh.” Meredith glanced upward again, her mind reeling with his explanation, but before she was able to ask another question they had come to an abrupt stop, and Him’s hand reached out to hold her steadily in place.

  She retrieved her gaze from the sky and was startled to note they had become surrounded by a party of odd-looking creatures. She slid in closer to Him and eyed the bizarre host with caution. While she could not deny that the goblins had been hideous, and Sir Gwydion and Him both strange to behold, these new creatures were extraordinarily tall, with thin, muscled grey bodies. Just off their naked shoulders jutted malformed, papery wings. They had long, sharp faces, each one covered from the nose up by intricately carved masks of golden oak leaves. In their hands they clutched tightly to ornately carved spears decorated in the same oak leaf pattern. Their silver blades glinted against the moon’s light, momentarily flickering like blue flame before stabilizing in the hands of their wielders.

  There were only five of them, but it did nothing to placate the irrational sense of panic that gripped Meredith's insides.

  Him stepped forward and began communicating with them in a series of purrs, clicks and utterances she didn’t understand. One of the creatures replied in similar fashion, and several times both his eyes and his hand gestures indicated Meredith was the subject of their odd conversation. Him went on speaking, while Sir Gwydion remained silent, but protective beside Him, his sword-arm stiff with warning and readiness.

  At times the gestures and sounds they produced seemed urgent and argumentative, and the one who seemed to be their leader turned to his companions to confer the information. Meredith hid behind Him, and listened as his replies grew adamant. At last he threw up his arms and shouted a strange collection of syllables that may not have made sense verbally, but had certainly grabbed her attention.

  The leader then turned away and gestured for two of his men to follow as he led them away from the scene. The remaining two stepped forward to guard them, their thick, watchful black eyes scanning the three travelers as though they expected some sort of violent rebellion.

  “This is preposterous,” Him kicked at the dirt beneath his boots. “It’s a wrong day indeed when I am not permitted to approach my own brother without a council deliberation.”

  “You know perfectly well why they won’t allow you to just stroll right in there,” Sir Gwydion pointed out. “It’s her. She is an Uplander!”

  “It matters not who she is, or where she’s come from if she comes with me!” Him snorted.

  “It is not I who disagrees with you, milord, but they, and they are the bastions who guard his realm.”

  “Do not talk down to me like I am some sort of youngling, Gwydion!” Him spun around and lifted his arms in despair. “I know the laws of this realm better than you, and everyone who knows me knows. Sylvanus knows it too, that I have no head for politics or history. I would rather die than take over his village.”

  “Yes, we all know, Him,” Gwydion hummed in sing-song sarcasm. “Everyone knows except for them, you ninny. Just like everyone knows that Dælicti brain is about as useful as a fistful of feathers and no bird in the pot at supper.”

  “If there is a problem with my coming? Perhaps I should go,” Meredith finally interjected.

  “No,” Him’s reply came almost too abruptly. “There is no problem, only that my brother’s guards seem to have forgotten their place.” He glared at the remaining two guards. “And though they may not be very clever, they are deadly to duel with, and have uncanny magical abilities.”

  “And it is because of me that they will not allow us to pass?” She clarified.

  “It is because they’re stupid fools,” he roared back at the guard. “The whole lot of them, all but useless when it comes to meaningful communication.”

  Sir Gwydion shook his head. “Your brother has his reasons for keeping them as his guard.”

  “Take their side, then,” Him huffed.

  “As if I would.” The little pixie’s eyes arched into his lids. “You see, Meredith Drexler, the Dælicti guard Lord Sylvanus from ill-will and danger. He holds the history of our entire existence, and because Him is next of kin should anything happen to our Lord Sylvanus, the Dælicti always treat him with suspicion and mistrust.”

  Meredith looked toward Him, noting that his lower lip swelled into a childish pout.

  “And now that we have brought you, an Uplander, their suspicions are raised to the highest extent. We’ll be lucky to receive and audience with Sylvanus at all, much less find ourselves thrown into the stockade.”

  Him spun on Sir Gwydion with a defensive growl. “My brother would never send me to the stockade.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t, at least not without much better reasons than the ones I have been presented with tonight,” a deep, masculine voice reasoned from the trees just beyond the two Dælicti that had been left behind.

  As the guards parted to make way for their master, both Sir Gwydion and Him knelt to honor the Historian on one knee, heads bowed. It was the gentle tugging of Sir Gwydion’s small hand on the hem of her cloak that drew Meredith in an awkward stumble to her own knees. She hadn’t even glimpsed the subject of their honor.

  “Let us dispense with the formalities.”

  Though she
could not see him, she could feel the intense power of his gaze upon her, and instinctively Meredith drew her gaze to his.

  “The Lady Glylwythiel.” His ageless eyes were a blend of forest colors come to life, mostly brown with flecks of grey, green, yellow and soft orange. “We have long been expecting your return." He held his hand to her.

  “She’s called Meredith now,” Him interjected.

  “She will always be Glylwythiel to me.”

  She knew the name he’d called her; it was as familiar to her as if it were her own, and his face, she realized, was equally recognizable.

  When he touched her, fingers curling around her own in greeting, she realized the overwhelming sense of peace warming her from within was one she’d known before. This man, Sylvanus, was her friend.

  The attraction she felt to Sylvanus was different than the way she felt in Him’s company. Him exuded excitement and raw spirit, and her attraction to him was full of danger and intrigue. Sylvanus exuded a universal energy that reminded her of a safety she had only dreamed of, but never fully experienced. His protective, strong hands would never let her fall, it seemed, and though she couldn’t quite understand it she trusted him implicitly the very moment he brought her to her feet before him.

  “Milord.” She bowed her head.

  “It is I who should be bowing to you, Lady.” Sylvanus smiled.

  “I don’t understand."

  “In due time, child,” he promised her. “In due time. And please, brother, I must ask you to accept my most sincere apology. I meant you no delay, nor disrespect.”

  “All is forgiven,” Him conceded.

  Sylvanus withdrew and the brothers embraced.

  From the sidelines Meredith studied the similarities between them. Him was the taller of the two, and his well-muscled frame overshadowed that of his brother without a doubt. Sylvanus was slight, scholarly, Meredith thought. Thin and lean, she imagined he was the type to barely pick at a meal while devouring important documents, plates returning from his private chambers hardly touched in the middle of the night. Both brothers had the same curling, shoulder-length hair, that rich shade of oak bark brown and red with silver highlights.

  “Come,” Sylvanus said as he stepped back from his brother. “Let us retire to the comfort of my home. It is the safest place to discuss that which we must, and there is much we must discuss this night.”

  As though he took personal charge of Meredith, Sylvanus stood to her right, and Him resided on her left. She looked between them, no longer wary of the place around her, those dark thoughts a fading memory.

  For the first time in years Meredith felt safe. The pressing matter of her sister’s saving lingered at the back of her mind, but in the company of Sylvanus, she somehow believed that everything would be just fine.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Meredith was enchanted by the way the presence of his brother altered Him, who had been animated and flirtatious through much of their journey. As they traveled to Sylvanus’s village on foot, the two brothers shared small talk and a skin of wine between them, but even though their words were simple, Meredith could see that Him looked up to Sylvanus, admired him and conducted himself to keep from disappointing his elder brother.

  She hung back, tuned out their conversation, and thought about her own sibling. The unraveling plot of her once stable life seemed more complicated than anything she could have dreamed. Ingrained in her mind was the image of her dying sister, pale and empty in the goblin king’s arms just before he disappeared.

  Sorrow drained all her energy, and her focus faltered. Something told her things were about to get a lot more tangled than they already were, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine. She supposed she’d face that issue when it arose, and then she found her attention drawn toward Him.

  As though he felt her eyes on his skin, Him glanced over at her and offered a charming, but subtle grin.

  It was perfectly indecent, and she knew it, but Meredith couldn’t deny she enjoyed the attention. She had never known anyone like Him, and yet every time she looked into his eyes there was a familiar connection she couldn’t shake. She felt like she'd known Him all her life, and so every time she met with his eyes from behind the damp curtain of her disheveled blond hair, he smiled and she knew he felt it too. Whenever she looked away, it felt like someone thrust a hand into her chest and wrapped fingers tight around her heart. It was difficult to breathe until she met with his eyes again.

  Sir Gwydion marched on the other side of Him, occasionally piping up to share his personal thoughts. Sylvanus regarded everything he said with great consideration, and Meredith noticed the Historian found genuine interest in everything that was spoken. It must be a strange thing, being a Historian, she thought. Did even the most trivial of stories find some comfortable nook inside his mind to nestle into?

  When the travelers came to a halt outside a thick wall of fern and wild vine, Sylvanus stepped forward. He turned over his shoulder, regarded his brother and then nodded.

  Him held out the wineskin for Meredith and explained, “In order for you to see the village, you must drink.”

  Meredith regarded the wineskin; another memory of her mother rushed back to her. One should always avoid faerie rings, lest they be drawn Underground and trapped between the worlds, and should one come in direct contact with one of the fae folk, never accept even the smallest nibble of food, or drop of drink, lest they forgot their true name and place in the world.

  “What is it?”

  “The finest Elven wine in all the land,” he said. “One sip and you’ll see the world as it was meant to be seen.”

  “I have seen more than my share of extraordinary things this night,” she admitted.

  Him’s laughter warmed her, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, as though the words they shared were secret. “Believe me when I tell you, you’ve barely begun to see the world we live in.” He lifted the wineskin closer to her and asked. “You haven’t got much more to lose now, have you?”

  The words only my soul sprang to mind as she accepted the wineskin. Him’s vibrant gaze begged for trust, and the grin lifting the corners of his mouth inspired a daring side of her she hardly knew. She lifted the opening to her mouth and poured slowly at first, expecting the same bitter flavor of the church wine she had partaken in during holy communion. She was pleasantly surprised, as the sweet liquid splashed across her enraptured taste buds. Meredith blinked once, and the world around her grew brighter, so she tipped the skin into her mouth again, this time allowing herself to swallow a healthy dose.

  The wine warmed her, an incredible tingle of heat rushing through every fiber of her being. The sensation fascinated her, but then the glitter of the village beyond the veil appeared. Buildings so bright they could only be made with jewels glistened in the moonlight, and there she understood the moral to her mother’s warning. If faerie wine made the world look as enchanting as the place before her, why would anyone ever want to return to the mundane world above?

  “Come.” Him smiled. “There is much for you to see.”

  The journey through the opalescent village was more amazing than Meredith’s wildest daydream. Lithe and nimble faerie folk bustled about the village, many pausing to watch the procession pass through with their village elder. Mouths hid behind hands, but the whisper of their voices reached out to meet them. Him journeyed beside her, head held high, and Meredith took great comfort in the position of his firm hand on her shoulder. Try as she might to deny it, she felt secure in his company, as though his presence alone were some secret sanctuary in which she could let down her guard without forgetting her task.

  Meredith was surprised to see the only trait the villagers seemed to share in appearance was the bizarre fashion of their features. Each one was different, and though they were strange to behold, there was friendliness and genuine wonder in each of their faces. The familiarity of it all struck inside her chest like a gong, continually ringing with subtle recognition, but just beneath the
surface of her consciousness so she couldn’t fully grasp it.

  Being in that village, among the structures and the people, was like coming home after a thousand lifetimes away. The darkness that haunted her life since her mother had died, which had only become more threatening and vile after Christina was taken, seemed to fade into nothing, and for the briefest flicker of a moment, Meredith let go of the worries and hardships running rampant in her life. That glimmer sparked a small flame of hope inside her, or maybe it was just the wine.

  Sylvanus stopped in front of a slender, white door and turned to offer Meredith a welcoming smile. “Lady, I ask that you honor my household with your company.”

  With an eager nod Meredith said, “The honor is mine.”

  No one explained it to her, but she understood the custom, as though some distant part of her remembered it. It was traditional for a guest to enter the host’s home first, as a demonstration of the guest’s trust for the host.

  How did she know that?

  Sylvanus returned to the knob, and with a deft movement of his hands, the door sprang open. He gestured for Meredith to enter and she stepped into the house, Sylvanus following second, and then Him and Sir Gwydion.

  The Dælicti waited outside, taking their positions on each side of the door. After Sylvanus shut away the curious village, he turned to Meredith and said, “May you be at home here, such as you would be within your own home.”

  “May I one day repay your kindness,” she bowed almost formally, then lifted her head to take in her surroundings. Much like her instinct to enter first, she felt as though she’d been there before, standing amidst the delicately carved pillars supporting the entryway.

  Before she could spend too much time reflecting on that odd sense of familiarity, Sylvanus ushered them into the sitting room, which was equally familiar. Within moments, a small, lavender-skinned woman appeared and he whispered in her ear. The woman regarded Meredith with the same wide, curious eyes the villagers had displayed, and then she nodded, quickly disappearing into the hallway she had entered through.