Goblins

Summer 1647 His hair was ash blond, like spun silver. The long ends swung over me, tickling my bare skin as he wound a thin, silver chain round my wrists. I focussed on my hands held in front of me, my claw-tipped fingers curled inward, as he carefully wrapped the length of chain around my wrists. The chain was cool, its power potent and binding. A shiver passed over me, a ripple of magic, but I couldn’t change form. I was trapped in this almost human shell, trapped by his magic. He pulled my bound hands up then, securing them above my head. I writhed, and a growl rumbled from deep within my chest. “Release me.” He gazed down at me with pale grey eyes tinged with violet—the eyes of a witch. “No,” he answered softly. “Not yet.” * * * * The memory faded, and I forced myself awake. Amused snickers greeted me. A familiar voice asked, “Good dream was it, Wulf?” “Shh!” a second voice hissed in reply. “He might still be in shock.” “Hah!” the first voice scoffed. “Not much shocks our Wulf.” I opened my eyes and looked about in panic. Selby and Quiller gazed down at me, their long, dark hair framing their faces, their mouths quirked with smiles that they didn’t bother to hide. The sky above them was dark, and the spindly tree tops loomed over their heads. I realised I was lying on my back. “What happened?” I tried to sit up, and met with a swirl of dizziness. My body felt woozy, strange. Selby pushed me back down none too gently. “Just be quiet, baby brother. We had to come all this way to rescue you.” “What?” I murmured, blinking my eyes to focus. I was flat on my back again, on some kind of cloth. My brothers dragged me across the forest floor, small rocks scraping my backbone. “Ow!” I complained. “What in the Goddess’ name are you doing? Ow!” “This would be a lot easier—ugh!” Quiller grunted as they hauled me along. “If you changed into something smaller, Wulf.” “Not yet.” Selby shook his head. The trinkets woven into his hair faintly chimed. “The state he’s in, he might get it wrong.” They both tugged and heaved together. Quiller snorted a laugh. “Hah! Knowing him, he’d get it wrong anyway.” “You’re one to talk,” I muttered, rubbing my hands across my face. Why did I feel so strange, so weak? “Day-break’s near,” Quiller piped up. “Then we shall have to stop,” Selby replied. Another snort from Quiller. He shook his head from side to side, showing his irritation. His long hair and the rook’s feathers poked into it ruffled with the movement. “Oh, stop griping,” Selby told him. “If you hadn’t stopped on the way here to chat to those imps…” They bickered as they pulled me along. I put my fingers in my ears in an attempt to get some peace. Being the youngest of seven, living amongst incessant, pointless squabbling was my lot. That was why I took to marauding through the forest on my own as often as time allowed. Sometimes I was with Garnet, my older brother and fifth eldest. What had I been doing anyway? Had I gotten lost? And who was that human in my dream? The memory was hazy. “This shall do!” Selby declared, halting suddenly. Quiller was caught off guard and, without Selby’s greater strength to help pull me, he slipped over with a yelp. I sat up carefully. We were at the foot of an old yew tree, its trunk dry and hollow. “Get up, Quill,” Selby scolded, as Quiller glared at him. “We need to change,” Selby said. “I thought you—” “We’ll help him change.” Selby turned to me and offered his hand. “Ready, Wulf?” “I can manage, thank you.” I swept my arm out, swinging it over my head with a quick changing spell. Selby and Quiller squinted as my spell popped and fizzled, flashing brightly. It didn’t work. I was lying on my back as before, with sparks in my eyes, wondering what had happened. Or hadn’t happened. Quiller chuckled. Selby rolled his eyes. “Hold his hand,” he muttered to Quiller. They yanked me upright and took a hold of my hands, then each other’s. “Small,” Selby commanded aloud, as his spell pulsed through us. I gasped as our forms changed, superbly executed. We barely disturbed the air as we shrank into our smaller size; the forest grew taller, and the trees became giants. Quiller shook himself down, the feathers in his hair ruffling with magic. “That’s better. I don’t like being big for so long. It feels like being spread thin.” “It gets easier if you practice more,” Selby said, pompous as ever. In my smaller size, I felt better. Selby still kept a hand on me as he guided us into the tree trunk, seeking the dark. Light crept across the sky. Songbirds stirred overhead and began to sing. Inside the tree, Quiller grumbled about not being comfortable. He stomped away to drag a fallen leaf inside. Selby told him not to bother, as day-break was close. They bickered over the leaf, and eventually Selby helped Quiller drag it inside the trunk. Quiller gathered moss from the ground to make a nest. When his back was turned, Selby leapt into the leaf bed, placing his hands behind his head as he lay back with a chuckle. Quiller was annoyed and began to change his form into a squawking bird, until Selby put a holding spell on him. Quiller made a choked sound and froze still. I rolled my eyes. Selby and Quiller were part of the eldest three. Selby was second eldest, which made him stronger than Quiller, who was third eldest. While they were distracted fighting, I tried to crawl onto the leaf. Selby noticed and booted me away. “What was that for?” I complained. “I’m still annoyed with you.” Selby pointed a finger at me. I was wary of his magic, so I didn’t argue. With his other hand, Selby kept a vice-like spell on Quiller, holding him prisoner. He flicked his wrist back and forth, which made Quiller’s own hands move against his will to slap himself in the face. Quiller thrashed and cursed while Selby chuckled. Older brothers were such bullies. When they tired of their fight (with Selby winning, of course, and making Quiller recite several times how wonderful he was) we all settled down to sleep. The sun was starting to rise outside, and we felt our powers fading. With the last of my breath, I asked, “Sel, what happened to me? I can’t remember.” “You fool,” Quiller said. “We had to rescue you from that witch.” “Warlock,” Selby corrected, with a yawn. “You have to call the male ones warlocks now.” “By whose law?” Selby shifted on his side, already falling asleep. “Mm, the elves said.” “Warlock?” I yawned, as I too, drifted. * * * * There’s a warlock in the woods. In my dreams, I remembered. Garnet had whispered in my ear about a warlock living on the edge of the woods. “We’re not allowed to go that far,” I whispered back. Garnet’s crimson eyes shone with mischief. “I won’t tell if you don’t, Wulf.” At dusk, we travelled through the forest, first as birds, then as foxes. We were still inexperienced, and shouldn’t have been out so far on our own. When we got excited our animal forms lost their shape around the edges; our foxes became darker, sleeker animals, with longer snouts and more teeth. Our paws grew bigger, our claws sharper. We wouldn’t have passed for foxes, but it was hard to stay in control when we were this excited. On the edge of a stream, we stopped, then crawled along on our bellies in the undergrowth. There was a human in the forest. A man. He stooped low, picking at a patch of nettles, tucking them into a small basket. He held a torch in one hand, but it wasn’t lit with flame. This torch held only a pale rock which glowed in the dark, commanded by some kind of magic. “That’s the warlock,” Garnet hissed in my ear. I let off a bark. The warlock looked up, holding his torch aloft. He was swaddled in a cloak and hood. We couldn’t see his face, but assumed our presence spooked him. Hidden, we chuckled softly. From our fox snouts, our laughter came as scoffing barks. The warlock chose to ignore us, but he knew we were there. We ran around him in large circles, staying hidden in the undergrowth, and called to each other. He stood up sharply, trying to see where we were. We barked in amusement, thinking ourselves very clever. The warlock raised his hand. With a quick gesture and an uttered word, he cast a spell that took us by surprise. I felt as though I’d been knocked backwards with a punch, and lay dazed on the ground. Garnet too, lay beside me. We had reverted back to our original forms; small goblins with clawed hands and pointed features. Thoroughly caught off guard, we scuttled away through the undergrowth. The warlock laughed. “How dare he!” Garnet was incensed as we dusted ourselves off. “Who does he think he is?” “Let’s teach him a lesson,” I suggested. So we began a campaign against the warlock. Once we knew the places he visited, we got there before him and poisoned the plants. With curse words and tongue licks, we dried the plants from the roots up, rendering them useless. Then we scrambled away, cackling, imagining how cross the warlock would be. We changed into magpies, and sat in the tree branches above to watch. However, it was hard to get a rise from this warlock. When he arrived, he didn’t appear to notice our hard work. He picked the plants as if nothing was amiss. When he left, we flew down to the ground to inspect. He had somehow reversed our poisons and coaxed life back into the plants. Cawing in frustration, we pecked them from the ground. We went through this many times with the warlock before we began to get annoyed. I suggested to Garnet that we find his dwelling and really shake things up. Garnet was hesitant, not as sure as he was before. “I don’t know, Wulf, what if he sees us?” “He won’t see us. We can be crafty. More crafty than a human.” “He’s not a human,” Garnet reminded me. “He’s a warlock.” “We can outsmart him.” I was determined, and wouldn’t be swayed. I was also entertained. This was the most fun I’d had in a long while. I suspected Garnet must have agreed, as he ended up tagging along. We stalked the warlock through the night, deep into the woods. He had a small cabin set in a glen, the trees almost concealing it. Strong oaks jostled for space alongside spindly elders, and one lone, yew tree, standing near a brook. The air was fresh and clean, and here the wild flowers abundant. This part of the woods belonged to the elves, our mother’s people. Humans never ventured here. Even goblins didn’t venture here. We were out of our depth, but too far into our game to worry. While the warlock was inside his cabin with the chimney smoking, Garnet and I ran around outside it, yapping and howling. Our games went ignored. We could feel a protective shield around the place; the warlock’s magic was indeed strong. What could we do to get his attention? Tiring first, Garnet said, “Let’s go visit Elfren.” “No!” I barked. “We saw our blessed cousin not ten days ago, and that’s enough for me.” “But Wulf, this isn’t working, and he obviously doesn’t care.” I grinned a fox’s toothy smile. “Then we’ll have to do something better, won’t we?” The next night, we returned to the warlock’s cabin. Again, clad in his cloak with his crystal-lit torch, he left to forage in the woods. He might be gone all night, or he might be back very soon. We had no way of knowing. Hurrying, we changed into our strongest forms; clawed, stubby goblins with large, pointed ears. Circling the cabin, we raked our long nails over the wood, looking for a way in. We couldn’t use the door, as we weren’t welcome. The warlock’s spell saw to that. “We have to get inside,” I said. “I don’t know,” Garnet muttered. “Let’s leave here, and go visit Elfren. He has mead.” “Garnet, we have mead at home.” My hands were drawn to the window. I sensed a weakness in the spell here. “Give me a lift, would you?” Reluctantly, Garnet stood below the window and hoisted me up. My claws scrabbled at the cloth covering, trying to get in. There was a small opening, a tear in the cloth, and a break in the spell. “Careful,” Garnet warned. Squeezing my body wouldn’t work, as the space was too small. I was forced to change; spreading my arms into wings and shrinking in size, I burst through the cabin window as a blackbird. I heard Garnet swear as he stumbled outside, then he was back at the window. “Now what, Wulf?” he hissed through the cloth. I flew to the window, changing back into a goblin because I was so excited. Lifting the cloth, I peered out at him. “Aren’t you coming in?” I hopped from clawed foot to clawed foot with sheer joy. “No fear.” Garnet sniffed. “I can feel his magic from here. Just do what you want to do, Wulf, and hurry up.” “Very well!” I rolled my eyes. All the more fun for me, then. I ran around inside the cabin, causing a great mess by knocking things and tipping them over. There was a table with neat little rows of plants and herbs; I scrubbed my hands through the piles, disorganising them. I rummaged through stores, upended bottles, and swapped things around, thoroughly enjoying myself. When the bark came from outside, I knew I’d stayed too long. The warlock had returned. Panicking, I changed into a blackbird and flew up to the top of a wooden shelf stack. The door opened. I should have flown straight for it to make my escape, but I was far too curious for my own good. I wanted to see what the warlock did, maybe even watch his reaction to the mess I had made. He set down his basket of plants, and the torch which still glimmered in the dark. He threw back his hood, revealing a head of ash blond hair. When he swept the cloak away I got my first look at him. He was a much younger man than I’d expected. Upon seeing the full length of his hair fall free, like a waterfall of silver down his back, my first thought was, he’s an elf. I tilted my head to watch. No, he was far too manly to be an elf. Too rugged, and yet, he was too handsome and graceful to be a man. He was somewhere in between, and very pleasant to behold. I greedily drank in his image, my eyes growing owl-wide. Another bark outside from Garnet, and I unwittingly answered with a soft hoot. Pausing as he lit a lantern, the warlock looked up at me. “How did you get in here?” His voice was a caress on my sensitive ears. A shiver passed through me and I ruffled my feathers. Smiling, the warlock went to his door, all the while keeping his eyes on me. He pushed it open, then moved back to his table. “I suggest you leave, little one.” Despite a strange tug of regret, I knew I had to go. Flapping my wings, I hooted once then took to the air. I half expected—and curiously hoped—that he would stop me. He didn’t though, and I flew away. Once outside in the night air I tucked myself into a ball and changed mid-flight, springing into a fox. I hit the ground running. Garnet caught up to my side in his fox form. “What happened?” he panted. “Did he see you?” “No,” I lied. “Nothing happened.” We ran home, and we didn’t mention the warlock again. But I’d lied; something had happened to me. A seed of curiosity was sown, and I found I couldn’t leave the warlock in peace. I wanted to see him again, but without Garnet I didn’t feel brave enough to pester him. Instead, I ran out to his cabin at night on my own, and simply watched him. I found him fascinating, now that I knew what he looked like. Why did a man so young choose to live by himself, away from his people? I half expected someone to visit him, a human girl perhaps, or even some friends. The only person that came at times was a woman, dressed in layers of grey fabric and a patchwork shawl. Her hair was long and dark blonde, but she was not nearly as nice as the warlock. She was older than him, too. I watched them inside the cabin from my corner, concealed as a rat. The woman balanced her wicker basket on her knee, placing bottle after bottle on the warlock’s table. They bartered business and drank tea, seeming friendly enough. While the woman’s laugh was a shrill cackle, the warlock’s laughter was soft and warm. I hadn’t known a rat’s heart could beat so fast. I became consumed by my desire to spy on him. I liked to watch as, by fire light, he ground his plants on the table. Sharp scents of tangy nettle and sweet herbs filled the air. He mixed them together in bowls, then into different vials. When he did this, his handsome face became a placid mask as he concentrated, and his lips moved only slightly as he murmured spells over his work. Sometimes his magic made my head spin with its power, but I continued to watch him. One night, the warlock sat in his chair by the fire, quietly carving a piece of wood into the shape of an owl. When he was finished he smiled at it and set it on the table. He picked up his kettle, filled it with water from the barrel, and set it over the fire to boil. I wondered if he was expecting company, and felt slightly put out at the thought. Anxious, I watched him set out two cups. He took the freshly boiled kettle and mixed hot water with milk thistle into the cups. One cup was set at the empty seat. He picked up his own cup, then said quite suddenly, “Would you like some tea?” I held my breath. Did he know I was here? Who else was he talking to? My heart pounded fast, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. The warlock smiled, regarding his tea cup. “You can skulk in that corner all night, or you can have tea. Makes no difference to me.” I cursed inwardly. How did he know? He sipped his tea calmly, as if it really didn’t make any difference to him what I did. I was annoyed at being caught, but even more so that my presence would cause so little fuss. Being ignored wasn’t something I was used to. I scurried from the corner, my claws scratching on the wood. In the centre of the room, I glared up at the warlock. He turned his head to look down on me, disregarding me as no more than a rat. Of all the nerve! I’ll show him. In a fiery storm of indignation, I burst into my larger form, the one closest to human. To him, I’d look like a youth dressed in leaves and tatters, with wild, dark hair and pointed ears. The warlock looked me up and down. A slow smile spread across his lips, and he made a sound which I took for pleasant surprise. “And who might you be?” he asked. “Wulfren,” I said breathily, not sure why I was so worked up, or why I felt it so important that he know my name. “Wulfren,” the warlock said with a smile. At the sound of my name I could feel the magic around us draw close, threatening to make me dizzy. Shaking my head clear, I demanded, “Who are you?” A gentle breath of laughter was on his next words. “You may call me Ash.” “Ash?” I repeated, eyes immediately drawn to his hair, the silken blond lengths that framed his face. He smiled at me. It was strangely hypnotic. “Won’t you sit with me, Wulfren?” “Wulf,” I mumbled, as I darted around the table to sit opposite him. “Wulf, then.” Ash gestured to the second cup. “Please.” I grasped for the cup, trying my best not to stare at him. I gazed instead into the tea and took a sip. Nettle, milk thistle, spice…and something else. I gulped it down greedily. Its sweetness trickled down my throat, spreading out inside me. “Many nights you have visited here, without invitation,” Ash said calmly. “I wonder, how did you get inside my home?” I bit my lip, realising that I was in a delicate situation, and decided to stay silent. Ash made that noise again, a thoughtful hum. He took a sip of his tea then placed it on the table. Raising his hand, opened palm up, he stretched slender fingers toward me. “Tell me, Wulf, who are you?” His fingers curled back into his palm one by one, pulling invisible strings on my will. He simply made me speak. “I’m the seventh son of the goblin king.” No! My hand clamped over my mouth as soon as the words were out. Ash laughed darkly. The sound sent a shiver up my spine. “Well, well,” he said. “No wonder you found your way in. And tell me, who was that with you before?” My hand fell like a dead weight and my mouth betrayed me again as I said, “My brother, Garnet.” “I see. And where is he now?” “I don’t know…at home, perhaps.” “Where is your home?” I tried biting my lip, but it was no use. “The goblin city.” “City? Where is this city?” “North of here,” I said. “Across the river. Past the line of hornbeams, next to a bracken pond.” “What would the city look like to me, I wonder?” “A ring of rotten tree trunks.” “Very interesting.” Ash smiled at me. I was caught in his gaze, trying to determine the colour of his eyes. They were pale, like the silver of his hair, with a flash of violet. “You’re the seventh son, you said?” “Yes.” His eyes flicked down, raking over me. “How old are you?” “Summer green, by my last birthday.” “How old are you in years, Wulf?” Years? “I…I have over seven hundred seasons, now. Seven hundred and twenty,” I added. “Seasons? The seasons…But that would make you…” He sounded surprised, his eyes widening. “Age aside, you must be a young spirit.” “I’m not young!” I said, indignant. “I do everything the adults do.” “Including spying on me?” My face flushed. I didn’t answer. “Who knows you are here, Wulf?” “No one.” My heart thudded all the louder in my chest. “And what do you suppose I should do with an uninvited guest? Even a royal one, such as yourself?” I swallowed hard, watching his lips move as he spoke. Full, lush lips. They distracted me from the very real danger I’d stumbled into. “My home clearly needs a greater spell around it,” he said. “I could use your help with that. I’m sure I could coax the magic out of you.” His words set me alight. What was he saying, exactly? Take my magic? But that would involve…Us, together. Desire, then confusion, and very real fear washed through me. In a panicked move, I snarled at him. My face changed as fangs filled my mouth. Ash jolted back in surprise. Good. I wanted to frighten him for toying with me, I wanted to spring up and kick his stupid tea over. I’d show him. But when I tried to raise my clawed hands, I found them stuck fast, rooted to my sides. Ash’s low laughter caressed my ears. “You can’t move, Wulf. You’re sitting on a chair twined with silver birch, upon a sigil of propriety. And now that you’ve tasted the tea with silver leaf, I will bind you, Wulfren, inside and out.” Horrified, I turned wide eyes up at him. The warlock smiled as he leaned across the table and whispered, “You are mine.”