THREE

Although dusk was just settling, it seemed to take forever to reach the Goblin King’s castle. The monstrosity loomed above the trees like some grotesque sentinel, nearly overrun with the untouched wilderness that grew up to the very doors. We passed through what appeared to be an ancient city that was now nothing but crumbling ruins such as one might expect to find in some mythological tale. The buildings were long forgotten; they appeared abandoned in a great hurry. The remainder of a large stone wall that rose in some places above my head, might have been pure white at one time, but was now coated with a pale green, moss-like mold that gleamed wetly. A fine mist hung still and damp over everything, and the smell of mildew and decay lay everywhere.

The wilderness grew all around, up to the very doors of the castle. Clinging vines covered the broken houses in wild abandon, creating a net of green over the moldy stone, and the trees and underbrush worked together to hide the city from the view of unwanted visitors.

The Goblin King had been silent during the journey, but now he gestured toward the ancient castle and whispered, "Yonder lies your home."

"Don’t you mean my prison?" I replied, as coldly as I knew how. He stiffened, but made no comment, although I could tell he was insulted. Good, I thought. Let him be angry. Let him know how much I hate him. If he thinks I’ll accept my fate gracefully he can think again!

We had reached the courtyard of the castle by that time, passing through the rusty gate hanging open in a wall that was in considerably better repair than the one surrounding the city. The yard was nothing more than a wide area of broken stone tiles with a few moldy statues left standing here and there, but I knew that at one time it must have been a beautiful place. I wondered what had happened that had destroyed this place so thoroughly.

The Goblin King dismounted and helped me down from the stallion. Isolese huffed once, just like a regular horse. Then he sniffed at my hair, and I could smell the hot breath of the beast, like rotting carcasses, blast over my face. I quickly stepped back lest he decided to make me into his next meal. He merely snorted and tossed his glowing mane, then trotted into what must have been a stable, whose doors opened mysteriously at his presence and closed silently behind him.

"Come," the Goblin King commanded, turning and stalking into the castle. I quickly followed him, not liking the feeling of being left alone in the courtyard. Something niggled at my mind, and I realized what was wrong. There was nobody here! There was not so much as a rat scuttling over the stone ground. So, my curiosity getting the better of me, I hesitantly asked, "Where are all your servants? Are you not the king of this castle? Surely you have some here who serve you!"

The Goblin King shot me a rather amused glance. "I don’t believe I told you I was a king of anything," he replied. "And I have servants aplenty."

"Are you not the Goblin King then?" I asked. "Where have all your subjects gone?"

In an instant, he had turned on me and had my hair in a painful grip, jerking my chin up roughly. "Never," he said in a low, angry voice, "call me Goblin King again! That is a name given to me by mortals long ago, and I loathe it! Here, I am Briar, and Briar is what you will address me as!"

"Y-yes, sir," I stammered, my fright returning, and I stepped back away from him hastily lest he decide to strike out at me. "I’ll not call you Goblin King in your presence." Silently, I added spitefully, But I’ll never call you Briar, either. You will always be the Goblin King in my own mind, you craven beast!

He appeared satisfied, for he nodded shortly and gestured me to follow him down a long, dark hallway that was lined with tall windows draped in heavy velvet on one side, and a long row of doors on the other. There were candelabras set in the walls, and to my astonishment every one of them suddenly flared to life, like candles being snuffed, only backwards. They slowly flickered out again after we passed, but I felt uneasy about enchanted candles and hurried to catch up to the Goblin King.

He stopped at the end of the hall before a set of tall, wooden doors. "This is your bedchamber," he told me. I did not answer him, for my attention had focused on the images that were etched into the doors. I could see nymphs lounging beside a running stream, and the shadowy forms of shy elves were hidden among the trees. The imagery was lovely, and my breath caught as I gazed at it, feeling as though I could actually be there.

"Reflections of a time gone by," the Goblin King said softly when he noticed my rapt gaze. To my astonishment, I could hear sadness in his voice and glanced up at him, but his face held no expression. He waited a moment longer, then gestured briefly, a quick wave of his hand. The door suddenly swung open on its own, causing me to jump back a pace or two. The Goblin King looked amused as he bowed to me to precede him into the room, and I hesitantly stepped through the doorway, not certain of what to expect. What I saw caused me to gasp.

Before me lay a chamber of such extravagance that I could not help gaping in wonder. The candles, set in sconces all about the room, had instantly flared to brilliant life upon my entrance. The marble floor was draped with thick, deep rugs in shades of rose and cream, and in a large, wide fireplace there burned a cheery fire. A quick look behind an embroidered curtain beside the fireplace revealed a small room, in which I found a marble bath, empty for now. Closing the curtain again, I turned to examine the rest of the room. I saw that the furniture was of the quality that one would find in the castle of the richest monarch, made of fine wood and brass fittings, upholstered with brilliantly colored, expensive fabrics.

Best of all were the tall, wooden bookshelves that lined three walls, filled top to bottom with books. Hundreds of books! I had not known that there were so many books in the entire world, and I couldn’t wait to examine them all. I imagine that my delight was written quite clearly on my face, for the Goblin King chuckled. For just a moment he looked less frightening to me, looked a bit more like I imagined Briar might look, were he a separate being. "Did I not promise your father that you would be taken care of?" he asked me. "I am one of honor, whatever you think of me."

"Of so much honor that you would have stolen a little girl for picking a flower," I shot back, my anger burning anew at the memory. His eyes hardened, and he was the Goblin King again.

"Stealing is stealing," he said coldly. Then his expression softened. "But you were brave to face me, frightening though I am. And you were selfless in your act to save your sister and father. That is admirable."

"You left me no choice," I snapped. "I would have been a worse monster than you to allow Journey and Father to perish for something that was my fault in the first place!"

The Goblin King gazed at me steadily until I had to look away. "So perhaps you have learned a valuable lesson as well this evening," he finally said. "Your Journey has learned the wrongness of stealing, and you have learned to take the consequences of your own irresponsibility."

"Perhaps," I replied shortly. "But do not presume that just because I’ve willingly come with you I’ll like being held here. This room is still a prison no matter how grand you make it, and you are still my captor."

He cocked his head and eyed me coldly. "Does this mean, then, that you will try to escape me?" he asked.

I wanted badly to tell him yes, but I shook my head, instead. "I have given my word to remain here, and so I shall," I said. "I, at least, have honor." My bravado left me under the glare the Goblin King fixed upon me, but something he saw behind me stilled him from whatever he may have said or done next. Curious, I looked over my shoulder to see what had so captured his attention.

The fourth wall behind me was lined with tall, arched windows. These were covered in heavy, velvet drapes of deep rose, pulled back from the glass with silken gold chords. Through the glass, the sun was just bidding its final goodnight as it slid slowly beneath the trees. The Goblin King suddenly turned to me and said, rather quickly, "I must leave you now."

Then he turned and started to the door, seemingly in quite a hurry. I felt befuddled as I watched him nearly run to escape me, as though he was suddenly afraid. When he reached the door, he suddenly turned back and fixed me with a glowering stare. "Under no circumstances are you to leave this room after the sun sets," he told me, very fiercely. I felt my heart jump at his tone, and my mouth went even drier than it already was.

"Why?" I asked.

He gave an impatient gesture. "It is for your own good. Things happen at night that you would not care to see," he replied. "So again I warn you, do not leave this room after the sun has set, or you may meet with dire consequences." He bowed to me, and then turned to go.

But now my curiosity was piqued, and that was a bad thing. Mama had always told me that I was like a cat that never could let things go when they best should have been. So I asked quickly, "What will happen if I leave?"

The look he gave me was part astonishment, part annoyance, and even a glimmer of amusement lingered there for a moment. "What will happen?" he asked, and his voice was low and threatening, almost a growl. "Well...." He suddenly gave me a vicious grin that set my hair to rising. "Come out tonight, and I daresay you’ll find out for yourself."

I gulped at his tone and decided that perhaps I’d wait until another time. He seemed to sense this, for he chuckled softly and I drew myself up, offended. I have never liked being laughed at. "Have it your way," I announced stiffly.

He tilted his head to one side, his eyes studying me, then shook it slightly as though to dismiss whatever he had been thinking. "Whatever you need, my servants will attend to you," he said, changing the subject.

Looking around, I asked, somewhat suspiciously, "What servants? I’ve not seen another living soul in this place since we got here."

His smile was slight. "Call them shadows, if you will. They’re all that is left of my former subjects. They’re here, even if you cannot see them. There is one who will be with you at all times, should you need help." He turned to leave, then cast a last, lingering gaze to me. "After so long..." he murmured, and I wondered what he meant by that, but decided not to push my luck by asking. "One other thing," he added as he strode from the room. "At precisely six o’clock each evening you are to come to the Great Hall. There you will take your supper with me." Then he was gone, and the door swung silently shut behind him, leaving me alone.

Or was I alone? I paused, suddenly sensing that there was some kind of presence in my room. A faint shadow that seemed out of place among other shadows, drifting silently about the room, and I realized that it was the servant the Goblin King had given me. I gulped and stepped back as it came toward me, not certain if I liked the thought of shadows serving me. It was a bit spooky.

At any rate, this shadow now drifted to the huge wardrobe—which was big enough to hold a small bed—and the doors swung open without a sound. I saw with astonishment that it was stuffed full of dresses of every fashion imaginable, made of every cloth that could possibly exist. Satins, velvets, heavy winter silks, light summer silks, even plain cottons. The colors were brilliant— crimson, yellow, emerald green, and sea-foam blue, and even white, and black, and gray.

A lovely white nightgown pulled free and hovered before me in the air for a moment before drifting gracefully to the bed and spread itself out over the quilted down comforter. I heard the sound of water splashing and peered behind the curtain concealing the bath. There I saw that the large, marble tub was slowly filling with water from an unseen force, the level of the water rising mysteriously. The bath smelled heavenly, like roses and lilies, and was hot and steaming. A few rose petals appeared in mid-air to drift and settle gracefully atop the foaming water, and suddenly I felt very dirty.

Before I could squirm out of my filthy skirts, the shadow was back, and I suddenly found myself being swept expertly out of my clothes. I saw another faint form from the corner of my eye and realized that Shadow—which I had decided to name my strange servant (be it the same one or not)—had found some help. Well, I was too worried about being clean to worry about being in the care of spirits, so I stepped gratefully into the steaming bath and sank into the bubbles up to my chin. When the shadows tried to wash me, however, I firmly told them, "I can very well bathe myself, thank you. I’ve been doing so since I was four, and I’m not about to stop now." They were not pleased about it, I could tell, but they left me alone.

After a long, soothing soak, I finally pulled myself out of the tub and found a large towel folded on a table, along with a hairbrush and the silk nightgown. When Shadow began to brush my hair I made no objection, nor when it slipped the robe on about my shoulders.

I could smell something delicious; a small supper had appeared on a table beside the bed. I was famished, having had nothing since lunch, and I quickly made short work of the meal, washing it all down with a crystal goblet of warm milk. There was a slightly strange flavor to that milk. Perhaps it was a bit sweeter than milk normally tasted, although it somehow seemed familiar. Still, when I saw the covers of the bed were turning themselves down, inviting me to slip into the cool, smooth sheets, I no longer cared.

Suddenly I felt very tired. I dragged myself out of the chair and managed to make it to the bed before I collapsed. Shadow fussed about me, tucking me securely in and blowing all the lights out at once while the heavy drapes covering the windows closed themselves.

Just as I was about to drift into oblivion, I heard, faintly, a most awful sound drifting up through the windows, closed and muffled though they were. It was a sound that sent a shudder rolling down my spine; a horrible, inhuman screech that set my teeth on edge. I would have bolted upright in the bed had I the strength to move, but as it was, my limbs felt as though they had been weighted with lead. It was then that I began to realize that perhaps my meal had contained more than just food.

I remembered the too-sweet milk, and realized with certainty that it had been drugged. Then I remembered that Willow used the very same thing when I had once taken ill and could not sleep at night. It was a medicinal root that grew wild along the river that had that same, sweet flavor I’d tasted in my milk. The taste had been in my mouth for days afterwards.

Drugged! My outrage was diminished by the sleepiness I felt, and no matter how hard I tried to fight it I could tell it was easily winning. Very well, I thought angrily. I’ll let it go tonight, but I’m going to have a little talk with my…host…in the morning. Then sleep claimed me, but not before I heard a last, faint, unearthly wail drifting across the room.