Chapter Four:
Beginnings
The sun glinted off the icy river—one of the only ones that ran fast through Soren's territory as far as I knew. Though the sheen of ice was bright in the daylight, I knew that the water underneath was swift. Swift water bothered goblins; I'd know that even before I became a slave.
It'd been more than a year since Lydian and the destruction of my village. I'd gotten used to the short-term alliances made in the slave barracks in Soren's territory, gotten used to stepping over dead bodies, and gotten used to doing whatever it took to live another day.
But just as I became accustomed to the life of a labor slave I was yanked out of it roughly and now spent my days tailing the young goblin lord. In some ways it was better—better food and care, no harsh overseer to whip my back—but in others it was worse.
I was surrounded all the time but not by my own kind. No, they left me with stares and whispers and accusations of being a blood traitor. As if I had any choice in this. And when I followed Soren diligently and responded politely to his inquiries, they were breaking their backs working fields and tanning hides and getting whipped just because the goblins thought it was fun.
I learned a lot about what goblins viewed as fun in the past weeks, ever since I became Soren's personal slave. Pain and fighting of course, seeing the fear in others, but also plotting and manipulation, intrigue I wouldn't have thought their animalistic mind capable of.
Which led me to the river. The only place where none of them went and the place where I could be without stares and whispers and brutal snarls.
The Permafrost could be called beautiful if I forgot what creatures dwelled here. In the sunlight the snow glittered and the blue sky was the color of robins eggs. The forest I'd found dead when I first was brought was more alive than I thought; the wind whispering through the skeleton trees and hardy, little animals climbing through the undergrowth to scavenge what they could. They were survivors, like me. This world had more life in it than I'd originally thought and there was even a beauty to it that I found I could love...if I could forget why I was here in the first place.
"So this is where you go." I froze at the voice. I hadn't heard Soren come up behind me. Why was he looking for me? Did I forget something? Fear paralyzed me.
"Excuse me, master?" I asked when I found my voice.
"You always go off when you have free time and no one can ever figure out where. I decided to find out." The goblin lord sat down beside me and I stiffened, daring to look at him through the side of my vision.
His clothes were drenched in sweat and the muscles in his arms were tense. He must've come from a sparring match. I stared at the bulk of his arms, thinking how easily they could hold me down, immobilize me....then I snapped out of the poisonous thoughts. He'd given me no reason to fear that fate. Part of him even seemed to be looking out for it as to get to my room, you had to go through his. No one had come and tried to touch me in the night which was more than I could say for when I was in the barracks.
"Congratulations on figuring it out."
"Why here?" he asked as he thrummed his fingers against his thigh. One of his knees started bouncing and I caught him glimpsing at the river in revulsion.
"I'm able to be alone here. Your kind don't like the fast moving water. You can barely keep still, even now," I said.
He looked impressed. "Not many figure that out."
"I notice a lot."
His eyes were still on me and the curiosity in them had me squirming. "What else do you notice?"
I bit my lip. This could be some type of trap or game to cause me pain. The other goblins did it all the time. I looked back toward the river.
"What else do you notice?" he said again, urging me on.
I closed my eyes. "You say you're ambidextrous and fight with both hands, but you favor your left so you're most likely self-taught and biologically left handed. Whoever brings you your food always eats some of it first; I assume because of fear of assassination and that someone has tried to poison you before. Almost every slave claims that they've never had the nectar but almost every one of them is lying. The ones who are telling the truth ironically tend to last longer than the liars." I thought back to the barracks. They were all liars there; it made me bristle with rage. They looked down on me for openly being a part of the goblins' world but every chance they could they tried to gain favor with one of the creatures. At least I made clear my hatred was just that. Hatred.
Soren was still looking at me; I could feel it. "Anything else?"
I opened my eyes and met his gaze, trying not to tremble. "Your overseer wants to kill you." The memory of the crimson-eyed goblin was forever burnt into my brain. Besides Lydian, he was the cruelest I'd known and he made it a point to make sure I knew my place. But he talked like we weren't around him, like humans had no minds themselves, and therefore I'd heard him plotting.
Soren's eyebrows rose. "And how do you know this?"
"I heard him talking with another goblin. Some courier, I think. They were speaking of another goblin who used to rule here—Cÿrus—and how he should be avenged. That you were too young and inexperienced. That you would bring this place to ruin. The overseer said he would take care of it."
Soren's jaw tightened and I waited for his rage. He'd be angry with me, surely, for speaking ill of him—even if they weren't my words. I knew what happened to slaves who mentioned bad news. Why I felt compelled to tell him in the first place, I didn't know. Fire burned in his gaze and I prepared myself for the worse.
But he didn't hit me or even touch me. He just stopped, lips pursed, and started back to the manor. "Thank you for your insight, Janneke. Be sure to be back at the manor by sundown."
I watched him go, shaken.
A few days passed by after that and nothing noticeable happened. I followed Soren and did his bidding, the other slaves broke their backs with their labor, and the overseer cracked his whip and sneered at me with sharp teeth and a blood red gaze.
Then one day I noticed a new goblin with the whip. No one knew where the old one had gone; he'd simply just vanished. But when I went to my small room that night, on a low table besides the sleeping platform was a note in Soren's script.
There were only three words written.
You were right.
__
The memory dwindled away as I woke. It was so vivid, so lifelike, I was surprised when I woke swathed with furs on a sleeping platform softer than clouds. I shook myself; at least this time I dreamt of a good memory. When I got my bearings a bead of panic burst in my chest and I forced myself to quell it.
Soren was staring at me from where he lounged in a chair of ebony. No, chair wasn't the right word. It was more like a throne. The dark wood was carved with animals, both predator and prey, and vines that twisted around them in a never-ending circle. The back had the image of Jormungard, the serpent who circled the world, eating his own tail. His unblinking gaze sent shivers down my spine.
"You know," I said, "staring at me like that is really creepy. Even for you."
He frowned at that. "Does your kind do that often?"
"Do what? Sleep? Yes. Most creatures do."
He rolled his eyes at the edge in my voice. "No, I meant do your kind often talk in your sleep."
I flushed. Well. No one had ever told me that before. A hundred and seventeen years worth of embarrassment flooded through me, thinking about what I could've possibly said in all that time.
"From the look on your face I'm guessing no. I'm also assuming you didn't know that. Do you want to know what you said?" He was clearly enjoying this. "Don't worry, you didn't say anything embarrassing. I would say my name in my sleep too."
"Bite me," I muttered.
"Really?" he asked, surprised.
"You know if I wasn't your slave I would find it really tempting to punch you."
"You already punch me," he said.
"I mean, without your consent."
His eyes sparked with laughter. I twitched, my skin crawling with millions of imaginary bugs. Clenching my fists to keep myself from brushing off my arms, I waited until his amusement died down.
"You know, I never noticed how vulnerable a human is when they sleep."
"You sleep," I spat, every ounce of will to be polite drained from me. "Tell me how vulnerable you are." I stood, pacing across the large room. It was another bad sign, what trapped, injured prey did when cornered. But that was what I was. If I have to gnaw my own leg off to escape from the trap, so be it.
Soren's eyebrows furrowed. "You think I sleep in that bed?" he asked.
"The alternative is just as unlikely," I said, haughty.
He cocked an eyebrow. "A young lord falling asleep in the Erlking's palace is like a rabbit sleeping under the tail of a wolf. It doesn't happen."
I turned on my heel to face him. "So what were you doing this whole time?"
"I already said, I was watching you. It was quite relaxing, actually."
"I'm glad you had a relaxing night at least, then."
He nodded. "One of us should. With you killing Aleksey and all, you never told me why you did that?"
"He was plotting against you. I did what I had to."
He nodded again. "I see. I suppose that's twice now."
"You remember?" I asked, thinking back to the overseer with blood red eyes and suppressing a shudder.
"I remember," he said simply. But when he met my eyes they said much more than his words.
I did shudder this time. Gratefulness wasn't a good look for a goblin and it wasn't one I was used to. For a goblin to openly admit to remembering a debt he owned his slave...it was unheard of. But, then again, Soren had never treated me like he treated the others. He definitely didn't treat me like Lydian had.
He'd been the one to take me captive after burning my village to the ground, after all. I was great sport, the only known survivor of a goblin raid, and Lydian wanted to see how long I lasted. It was two months, maybe three before I withered away, until I found a shred of power only known to me. A bent iron nail, taken from the ashes before and forgotten by me in the haze of red I came to know. When I thrust it in his calf, he didn't think I was so amusing anymore.
But, technically, by Winter Law I had beaten him in a fight. He couldn't kill me then. So when his young nephew came, newly made a lord through the murder of his kin, I went from a plaything to a gift. An insulting gift.
He hadn't expected Soren to see the fight in me. But he did.
And here I was, almost a hundred years later, reaping the prize of winning that fight long ago.
Lost in my thoughts, the jangling of bronze locks and keys and the creaking of ill-used hinges made me jump. I turned, to see Soren reached for something carefully wrapped in doeskin.
"I have something for you," he said, holding out the wrapped object to me.
I stared at it, unsure. A gift given in the Permafrost always had to be repaid.
Soren obviously knew what I was thinking, because he sighed and said, "Think of it as a repayment for saving my life."
Gingerly, I reached for the package and set it down on a table of black cherry. The skin was so soft beneath my touch that I wasn't surprised to see the white speckles dotting the brown. I wondered if the fawn's mother was alive to mourn it, then figured that she had probably been killed too.
Inside the first fold were two leather bracers; as well as sturdy archery gloves. On the left bracer, there was a pocket too small for any knife. It didn't take me long guess what it was for. In the second fold was a belt with a sheath; inside the sheath an axe of wickedly sharp, goblin-forged bronze shone black as hell. In the third fold was a bow and quiver; the arrows tipped with goblin-forged bronze, the bow whiter than snow. Dragonbone.
I swallowed. New gear and weapons fit for a goblin; so carefully wrought a human's touch could taint them.
"I already have supplies," I said, thinking back to the bow I'd left at the palace entrance.
Soren snorted. "Weak supplies. This is well made. Goblin made. You'd be wise to take them. You wouldn't want your weapons giving out mid-Hunt."
I swallowed the dryness in my throat. "How long is the Hunt, anyway?"
He furrowed his brows. "I've never heard of it lasting longer than it takes for the new moon to come."
"Why?"
He shrugged and I got a sense he didn't really care about the topic. "Perhaps it's just never had to take that long. Most of the competition is weeded out by then, I suppose. I don't think it really matters—all that matters is winning. Still, take the weapons."
"This will make quite the stir." I took the items. I couldn't refuse now that'd I'd touched them. Even if I did refuse, I wouldn't put it past him to force them on me.
"Let it. Proper gear will help your change."
Change. Adapt. Become like him. Disgust curled in the pit of my stomach; but I couldn't help but notice the anticipation in my muscles. I wanted to feel the bracers against my skin, I wanted to pierce something's flesh with those arrows, I wanted, I wanted...
"What do you want?" Soren's hand caught mine as I stroked the bow. I didn't realize I'd been speaking aloud.
I shook my head. "Nothing."
"You know it's a lie."
I torn my hand from his grip, the skin where he touched me burning. "I can fight it," I said. "Whatever you're trying to do to me. I can fight it, I will fight it."
Those purple eyes looked so sad. I wished I believed they were. "Then you'll die, a human can't survive the Hunt. It's not possible. But, I don't think you're going to die. I also think death isn't something you fear."
No. I wasn't going to die. I was going to escape.
He strode across the bedchamber and threw open the heavy double doors that lead to the rest of the palace. "I expect you outside, fully equipped, in an hour." He paused in the middle of the doorway. "Please don't fight this, Janneka. I told you, this is because I care."
The doors swung shut, leaving me alone in the cold room.
"Janneke," I said to the icy air. "My name is Janneke."
###
I walked out into the courtyard with the bracers on my arms, the axe brushing against my hips, the gloves caressing my hands, and the bow and quiver slung across my back. The bent, iron nail fit snugly into the pocket of the bracers.
To say it caused chaos would be an understatement.
Murmurs, then shouts of outrage, taunts and snarls and animal yowls assaulted my ears. I kept my back straight as I walked through the courtyard, seeing Soren in the distance. I frowned. He was talking to Elvira. Helka stood beside her, along with another she-goblin I didn't know.
A young lordling, sensing my distraction, came up to me, sneering. But as he lunged—fangs growing and features sharpening from deathly beautiful to wolfish, ugly, and cruel—I had my bow out and arrow notched. It pierced his chest without moment's hesitation. The whoosh of power swept out of him, hung in the air, and hit me with its might. The intensity stung my skin, but I kept a grip on the bow; knowing I'd need it still. The power assaulted me again, trying to find a place to seep in, until it lingered on my skin like a covering of invisible dust, and slowly sunk into my pores with a burning agony worse than I'd ever felt before. It hurt worse realizing that since I absorbed power, I was tiptoeing the fine line between humanity and monstrosity.
I yanked the arrow out of the dead goblin and wiped the blood off with my tunic. "Would anyone else care to try?" I turned to the rest of the spectators.
The shouts quieted to whispers and the glares turned to side-eyes as I came up to Soren. He had two horses saddled and ready. I recognized his, a black stallion named Terror. But another, younger stallion with a cream colored flank and a dark mane pawed the ground beside him. There were two other horses as well, black as Terror was, and besides them, a great snow cat. The cat was big as the horses, its black hide rippling with muscles, its claws permanently unsheathed. It's tail twitched back and forth as it took me in, probably wondering if I was worth killing. I snarled at it, and it looked away.
I stopped in front of Soren, dipping my head in greeting. His lips twitched as he looked me over, but the scowl remained on his face. Finally, something natural. He was smiling too much for my tastes lately.
"Janneke," he said, motioning to Elvira, Helka, and the other goblin. Elvira's dark hair was pulled back into similar braids as mine, although golden strands were woven through it like vines. Her sword lay sheathed across her back, her stance easy and relaxed. The power coming off her hit me like a crashing wave. Helka smirked at me, her flaming hair loose around her shoulders, making the red in her eyes seem like embers in a fire. I narrowed my eyes at her. I heard what you said last night. I hope you know that. Both were near Soren's age, maybe a century or so older, but the third one had the look of a goblin newly grown into her power. She had on a black cloak and her raven-colored hair spilled around her like an angel's wings. Her golden eyes were eager as they latched on me.
"You know Elvira and Helka," Soren said. "The young one is Rekke, she's Elvira's niece."
Rekke snarled at Soren. "I am not young."
"Of course you aren't," Soren said, brushing her aside. He took my hand and lead me to the cream colored horse. "I figured you needed a horse to ride. So this is my last present for you. Name him what you will, and when you do, make sure he's bound to it."
I looked at the young stallion, he snorted at me, pawing the ground. The look of a trapped animal, one that I knew well, was plain on his face. I put a hand on his flank and stroked the soft hair.
"Panic you are, from this day 'til your last. Be you bound to this name and this call. Panic, running quick as thunder, fierce as lightening's flash, Panic, now you be mine." I'd never heard the words to name and bind an animal before, but they came to me easily like I'd always known them. A trickle of fear went down my spine; that shouldn't be possible. It couldn't be possible. But it was.
The newly named Panic nickered and nibbled my shoulder affectionately. I stroked his mane, watching as he let his hoof rest on the ground, finally at ease. The gaze of the other goblins burned into the back of my neck as I tried to calm myself.
I caught Elvira's dark gaze and forced myself to hold it. "Yes?"
She smiled a vicious and beautiful smile. "Color me surprised. I thought Soren was exaggerating about you."
"I don't exaggerate," Soren said. He clasped his hands together, his gloved fingers entwining. "Shall we ride?"
Elvira nodded and mounted her cat without a moment's hesitation. Her little niece, still glaring at Soren, and Helka mounted their steeds.
I ran my hand across Panic's flank once more before climbing into the saddle. The reins felt right in my hands; the saddle perfect against my bottom. The thrill of the Hunt started coursing through my veins. The power of the kill was still buzzing in my head. It took all my willpower to shut it down.
Soren pulled up beside me, watching as Elvira and her girls took the lead. "You know why I allied with them?" he asked.
"To stop Franz and Lydian from doing so," I said. "You must've gleaned that much from my sleep talk."
He nodded. "Elvira and Helka are skilled hunters. If they weren't, they wouldn't be able to compete."
I looked around the courtyard. Many lordlings had already set off to Hunt; but many still remained. Some of them might not even bother; the ones with lower power would find it hard to survive, much less fair well.
"Lydian hasn't left yet," I said, catching a glimpse of his entourage. "He's probably trying to find another alliance."
"Probably." Soren nudged his horse forward, and I followed. "This is the beginning of everything," he said. "For you."
I was silent, forcing down the excitement again. No, excitement wasn't the word. Drive was. A prey drive, just like every predator. I swallowed my fear. I would get out of here before he took anything else; even if I had to vow it on the ashes of everything I loved.
Panic gave a nervous whinny; and suddenly I knew my thoughts were not solely my own. I stroked his flank again. "You and I are one in the same."
Soren's lips twitched again. "Bond animals can feel our thoughts. Does he feel your excitement? Your drive?"
No, but he feels something else. We will escape, him and I. "Yes."
Soren looked ahead, to where Elvira and the others were waiting. "Then let's go. We have a Stag to Hunt."
"We do," I said. And the sooner it leaves the Permafrost, the better. I was about to kick Panic into a canter but Soren laid a hand on my shoulder. Goosepimples rose on my flesh as warmth seeped into my skin.
"Watch Rekke for me," he said. "I don't trust her."
"I don't trust any of them." I gazed at the dwindling figures of the three female goblins.
He inclined his head in agreement. "Yes, but I know Elvira and Helka. I don't know Rekke. And neither do you. So keep your eyes sharp."
"This isn't my first hunting trip."
Soren narrowed his eyes. "It's the first one where you're not just hunting an animal. Never forget that. We're allied now but that will break sooner or later and when it does, it will be because someone has a knife in their back. I'd rather it not be you." With those words, he kicked Terror into a canter and charged forward.
Panic pawed at the ground again, shaking his mane out. I scratched his ears, letting my thoughts pour into his. Fear, anticipation, wariness, determination. Pictures formed in my head of where he'd been before; a pasture somewhere far away, where the grass was as green as emeralds.
"You're right," I said to him. We're escaping. His head bobbed. I took a deep breath, felt for the nail in my bracer, and followed Soren out of the courtyard.
The Hunt had begun.
AN: Want more wonderfully conflicted characters? Check out Ashes Come Dawn!