White Stag Page 8

  “Of course we’ll manage.” Rekke sniffed, obviously offended.

  From where he stood, Panic nickered as I grabbed my bow. I reached out and ruffled his mane. “Stay here, boy.”

  Rekke raised an eyebrow at me. “Won’t we cover more ground on the horses?”

  “We’ll scare more game,” I said and started forward. “Come on, before the others wake.”

  Rekke paused, glancing at the sleeping goblins. “What if they’re attacked?”

  What if I don’t give a damn? “I’m sure they’ll be able to handle anything.”

  She grabbed her bow and followed at my heels. The cold air was sharp in my lungs as I walked through the Permafrost. Dead leaves and branches littered the ground, forcing me to walk with care. The skeletons of trees and other plants reached high into the sky, desperately clinging to a sun that would never warm them.

  If I could forget where I was, who I was with, what I was doing, it was almost as if I were back home so many years ago, hunting for my family. My heart sank in my chest; that would never happen again. Even if I managed to escape this and live in the human world, there was a nagging part of me that feared I would never belong. And Soren, gods damn him, is right about would happen. The idea of the goblin lord looking out for my well-being made my body burn in a way I didn’t understand. Soren was better off as far away from me as possible.

  I reached for the nail in my bracer, hoping for the reassurance the cold iron would bring, but snatched my hand back at the slight stinging in my fingers. When I looked, they were bright red with small burns. Nerves fluttered like a trapped moth inside my belly. This isn’t right. It can’t burn me yet. I’m not like them. Fear rooted me to the spot as the events of last night replayed in my head. Then, I’d acted exactly like them.

  “You and Soren looked very cozy last night.” Rekke’s comment stopped me in my tracks.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Are you implying what I think you are?”’

  She gave a wicked grin. “Yes.”

  Gods, I was hoping I only imagined my blush. “Well, you’re wrong. I’d rather eat a live rat than be with him, and I’m sure he’d say the same.”

  Rekke shrugged. “I doubt it. I mean, he’s so passionate and handsome and strong.” Her eyes gleamed as she spoke, and I had to hide a chuckle. It looked like she might fancy Soren herself. Well, she could have him for the good he did me.

  “Passionate?” I said. “I wouldn’t use that word to describe him.”

  “Well, I would. Besides, you can tell he cares about you.”

  “I’m his property,” I said bluntly. “Of course he cares.”

  Rekke sighed and shook her head. “Just keep telling yourself that.”

  I blinked. “Wonderful.” The nagging feeling about last night was growing harder to ignore. I wasn’t blind. I knew that for a goblin, Soren paid a great amount of attention to me, but that didn’t change what he was. And no hunt, no gesture of presumed kindness, nothing would change that. Soren would always be a goblin. That was what mattered.

  Or at least, it used to. I told the voice inside me to shut up and focused on the crisp leaves crunching under my feet and the cold air chilling my bones. I wasn’t sure how close we were to the border, but from the way the trees grew densely packed together and the birdcalls up above, it was possible we were close enough for some of the life to seep over from the other side. But we could still be miles away. Once, when I’d gone out hunting with Soren, years ago, I’d tried to defy the bond that bound me to the ’frost, running for miles until he ultimately caught me. I still had the scar on my arm where our blood had mixed when he spoke the words that kept me inside the Permafrost’s borders and let him know, in some telepathic way, if I was about to hurt myself.

  “Considering your actions, I don’t trust you not to kill yourself,” Soren had said, a few weeks after I was put into his care. After the hunger strike and violent episodes in which the trauma of what had happened to me clouded my mind from reason, perhaps he did have a solid point. But at the time, I didn’t understand why he bothered to care.

  With the bond to the land of the Permafrost in effect, he let me run through the woods as they slowly gained more and more life, only for me to be jerked to a halt near the border as if I were controlled by puppet strings. I hadn’t talked to him for a week afterward until the anger faded and the hatred cleared. Yet even as devious as he was, there was no doubting he protected me when he didn’t need to and that he treated me better than he should’ve.

  Perhaps he always had this sinister plan for me, from the moment Lydian threw me down at his feet. Perhaps he always knew what I’d become. Maybe some instinct deep inside him told him there was a kindred spirit in me. Maybe he found a connection or a friend. I didn’t think he was toying with me; Soren might’ve been many things, but he wasn’t needlessly sadistic. I couldn’t deny that in his own sick, twisted way he cared about me, and in my own sick, twisted way I cared about him too. It was far easier when blind hatred was my only emotion.

  “We’ll stop here,” I said. “Let me see your stance.”

  Rekke pulled her bow from where it rested against her back. She got into her stance, her small, pink tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Despite the unpleasantness of it all, watching the young goblin lifted a weight in my chest I hadn’t known was there. There was something pure and innocent about her that I hadn’t seen in a long time, and a part of me couldn’t help but covet it.

  The girl stood with her feet pointed inward and her elbow rotated toward the bowstring, one eye completely closed. Her arm shook as she struggled to hold the string against her chest.

  I sighed. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was no good with a bow.

  “Okay,” I said. “First, keep your feet straight. Don’t turn them inward toward your body. Your stance should be with feet parallel to each other or with closed hips.”

  Rekke scowled, but nodded and straightened her stance.

  “Also, keep your elbow level, don’t have it higher than the rest of your arm. Make sure it’s straight or else the arrow will go flying and you’ll bruise the inside of your arm.” I touched her arm, lowering it until it was level with the rest of her. “Keep your bowstring taut and change the anchor point from your chest to your chin,” I said, taking her hand and correcting her grip. “Make sure both eyes stay open—I know some teach you to shoot with only your dominant eye, but both eyes open increases the range of sight and strengthens the nondominant eye.”

  She did as I said, shaking with the effort of holding the string back.

  “Now, aim for the heart of that oak tree.” I pointed to a big tree a few meters away from us. “And shoot.”

  She did. The arrow soared through the air and hit the oak tree with a dull thud. It hadn’t gotten quite in the heart, but it had been close enough.

  Rekke grinned, showing sharp canines. Hel’s gates, why do they have to have such sharp teeth? The unease was washed away when the young she-goblin jumped in the air. “I did it!” she cheered. “All right, let’s try a few more times.”

  * * *

  WE SPENT THE hours until dawn shooting at every little thing that came in sight. Rekke was a fast learner, and each mistake I corrected was not repeated a second time. She kept getting closer and closer to her targets, until I was sure that if she handled a bow against an actual foe, they might have something to worry about. With a few years of practice, she could even be better than Soren, who while obviously skilled with the bow preferred his swords due to the problems his eyes had adjusting to light. That was if she even survived for another few years. I shook my head, not wanting such thoughts to weigh down the light feeling inside me.

  As the sun started to peek over the horizon, we stopped. “We should get back before they miss us. And pick up some breakfast on the way,” she said.

  I nodded.

  But as we walked back, I noticed Rekke’s shoulders tense. She paused among the naked trees, and I sto
pped beside her, leaves crunching under my boots. “What is it?”

  “I smell…” She frowned, unable to put a word to it. “I don’t know, something’s amiss.”

  I inhaled deeply; the wind had a slight coppery tinge to it, almost like meat that’d been left out in the open too long. We were standing downwind so whatever it was, it was close. “Keep your weapon out, Rekke,” I said and started forward, an arrow already notched in my bow.

  Rekke crept behind me, steps silent as a mouse. The rotting smell got worse as we went forward through a twisted patch of brambles and through a grove of skeleton trees. Near the trunk of one was a pool of dried blood. I looked up and swallowed when I saw the dead body of a goblin skewered and hung on the tree.

  Rekke let out a gasp before containing herself.

  “The Hunt’s first victims.” I bent to touch the dried blood. It was brown and cracking, maybe a day or so old. Ignoring the smell of death, I took another whiff of the air to see if any goblin scent remained. A bit of the sickly, icy smell lingered in the air. Along with a sweeter smell I couldn’t put a name to. “Rekke!” I barked.

  “Yes?” She was shaking.

  “Go back to the camp, get Soren and Elvira. The goblins who killed this one could still be around. Bring them here. I’m going to scout.”

  “But you could be in danger too!” the she-goblin protested.

  Not many of your kind would care about that. I shook the thought from my head. “This is the Hunt; we’re all in danger.”

  Rekke nodded and took off the opposite way. I stood silently, trying to pinpoint where the sweet smell was coming from. My gut tugged uncomfortably. It was so strange and somehow so familiar. I stalked forward, bow still aimed before me.

  Only when I saw the scent’s owners did I stop. A group of human men sat around what looked like a failed attempt at a fire. Fools. Normal fire doesn’t set in the Permafrost. My mouth fell open. There were humans in the Permafrost. While of course humans were brought to the Permafrost, going there of one’s own volition to hunt or explore was practically suicidal. There was a reason the creatures living in the Permafrost were so deadly. I couldn’t even recognize their scent as human, only something foreign. My stomach churned.

  Despite their failure to light a fire, they were joking and conversing with each other, unaware of the danger of the land they were in. Stupid. The sweetness in the air burned my nose, and I held back a sneeze, not accustomed to the tickling sensation. The smell of other goblins burned my nose, but it was a good burn. This was uncomfortable. They were laughing, but not like how I’d come to know laughter. The sound roared deep from their bellies, scaring off any type of game in the area. It was unrestrained and free, unlike the held-back laughter of goblinkind, always wary that someone might hear. It was so unreal, so alien. But they were my people; I had to do something.

  Focus. You need to warn them. There was a hunt going on, and I wouldn’t put it past any goblin to kill them for sport. It was obvious they weren’t the ones who had slain the goblin hanging from the tree. They were muscled, yes, but their steel glittered without the tarnish a goblin’s blood would’ve made, and I wasn’t about to believe that even a group of grown men could take on a single brute and survive without injury.

  I found my voice. “You need to leave here.”

  At once, the laughter stopped. One of the men, a big one with reddish hair, grabbed an axe from the ground; quickly, the other four followed suit. I stepped out from behind the trees, lowering my bow. When approaching prey animals, it’s necessary not to frighten them. One of my father’s early teachings came back to me. They were prey animals, what with the way they cast their eyes from side to side, looking for an escape, the twitchy nerves that showed even as they gripped their weapons so tight the skin of their knuckles turned white.

  “Who are you?” the redheaded man asked. Then he narrowed his eyes and looked me over more carefully, taking in my clothes, my hair, all the goblin-made weaponry that adorned my body. Hot shame flooded through my veins. Of course they don’t trust me.

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said. “But there are three goblins very close to here. They’re on a hunt. The Hunt. Actually, you’ve picked the worst time to be here. The Permafrost is crawling with goblins who are trying to kill everything worth killing. You should leave before they find you—they’ll come sooner or later. If you can get out of the Permafrost before they do, you might have a chance.”

  Yes, running was their only chance. I’d bet ten to one even Rekke could hold her own and win against their strongest man.

  “Thorsten,” a yellow-haired man said, coming up beside the redheaded one. “Look at her.”

  “I’m looking.” The redheaded man—Thorsten—scratched his beard. “Where are you from, girl? Why are you out here so deep in the ’frost? Don’t you know it isn’t safe?”

  “I could ask the same of you,” I retorted.

  “The pelts from the animals here fetch a pretty price, we’ve heard,” he said, smiling. “Of course, you have to be skilled enough to catch whatever is in this barren wasteland.”

  A bead of anger rose in me. What did they know of a barren wasteland? “You don’t strike me as suicidal.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving. Why are you dressed like a goblin, for instance?” asked another man, this one with dark skin.

  I bit my lip. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is, you need to leave.”

  Thorsten narrowed his eyes at me. “You’ve been here for a long time, haven’t you?” He shook his head, and his hand brushed against the butt of his axe. I raised my bow slightly. “That’s not natural. I can smell the Permafrost on you.”

  Thorsten came forward, his tall and broad shape looming over me. I pointed my arrow at his chest. “Don’t come closer.”

  Thorsten stopped where he was. “How long have you been out here?”

  “Long enough,” I said. A hard pit formed in my gut. These men should’ve been grateful I’d warned them. They should’ve scurried far away and saved their lives. But they were slowly approaching, their weapons drawn. “Look, I’m not your enemy.”

  The yellow-haired man said, “You know, one of the burnt lands near here was said to have a survivor, a long, long time ago. But after that long … it’s not like they could be fully human anymore. At least, something must have changed for them to betray their own kind.”

  “I am human,” I said. Burnt lands. That was the term for the human lands bordering the Permafrost that had been raided until nothing was left. My home was now a burnt land.

  The dark-skinned man eased a hunting knife from his boots. “You don’t look very human,” he said, creeping forward.

  I pointed the bow to him. “Tell me about this burnt land where there was a survivor. Was the village called Elvenhule?”

  He nodded slowly. Movement startled me from the corner of my eyes as the other men inched even closer. The gleam of an axe caught my vision, and I snarled, ducking out of the way before it could come crashing into my skull. Red filled my mind, and I let loose an arrow, only to realize too late I was shooting at a man I’d been trying to save. But they challenged you, a voice said. They want to kill you.

  The man fell to his knees, grabbing at the arrow in his gut. Not a clean shot. I could’ve done much better if I had really tried. It would kill him all the same.

  “Where is the village—where is what was left of it?” I shouted. “Tell me!”

  “Two days hard riding south and another three days southeast,” Thorsten said. “But you’ll never get there. It’s not like any human would accept you.”

  The yellow-haired man nodded. “You’ve lost yourself. This long in the Permafrost, you must have become savage to survive. You’re nothing anymore. You’ll never be human again. You’re confused, violent, mixed with everything unholy. It’s sickening, but what can you expect from those creatures?”

  “You’re better off dead, really.”

  In an instant I recognized the subtle
shift that came when someone gripped their weapon to go for the kill, and I loosed an arrow shaft straight into one of the men’s chests.

  They came forward, and I forgot they were human; gods compared to the monsters I’d lived with for so long. I forgot about my fears and my hatred. I forgot about turning into a goblin. All I knew was that a threat was in front of me. Something wanted to harm me. I would not let it.

  The man with the knife lunged as Thorsten jumped at me from the other side. I knocked one of them back with the bow, trying to give myself room enough to grab my own axe. Cursed long-range weapons.

  I kicked out at Thorsten’s knees and he crumpled to the ground, pain clear on his face. He grabbed the edge of my cloak and pulled me down with him until we were grappling on the forest floor. I let loose another arrow as the man I’d knocked back struggled to his feet; the satisfying sound of metal sliding through flesh told me I’d hit my mark. Above me, an axe glinted in the morning sun, and I braced myself for when the steel hit my flesh.

  It never did.

  The yellow-haired man froze in mid-swing, shock plain on his face at the arrow sticking out from his chest. With his free hand, he scratched at the wound before falling to his knees. Behind him stood Soren, his white hair in disarray, his lilac eyes filled with a fury I’d never seen before. Faster than light, another arrow hit the dark-skinned man and passed clean through his skull. Soren took me in for a second before turning his scorching gaze to Thorsten, who untangled himself from me immediately. Power spilled from Soren’s limbs, forming around him like a cloud. The strength crushed the breath from my chest as he stalked forward. As he went, he passed the yellow-haired man and, with a clawed hand, ripped out his throat.

  Soren jerked his chin to the side, motioning me to move away. I did, grabbing my weapons and squeezing them to stop the shaking in my hands. They tried to kill me. I’m one of them. I’m human! They tried to kill me. They thought I was a monster. But I was like them. I tried to warn them.

  Thorsten let out a cry of pain as Soren stepped on his broken knee. “Now, I don’t normally toy with prey before I kill it,” he said as the man moaned. Using his foot to turn the man over, he gave Thorsten a swift kick in the ribs. The sickening crunch was followed by a low moan. “I’m a civilized creature, after all.” Another kick to the ribs. “But I feel like this situation deserves an exception.” Soren pressed his boot hard on the man’s hand. “Because you looked like you were interested in killing someone I’m fond of,” he said, circling Thorsten before crushing his other hand under his boot. “I can’t imagine why, knowing the retribution. And she was so nice to you too.”