6. Rosalina
6
Rosalina
S ickening horror courses through my body as the monsters stalk closer. There is nowhere to run.
Sweat drips down Lucas’s brow. “Holy shit,” he swears, the rifle shaking in his hands.
“Wait,” I whisper. “Maybe we can reason with them.”
A few misshapen animalistic creatures snarl at the humanoids’ heels. Their shape reminds me of a hyena, but they have ashen bodies and festering wounds that drip a strange green sludge. Little forests sprout on their flesh: a small patch of mushrooms along a paw, a cluster of moss around the ear. And they smell of decay and sour death.
Nausea coils in my gut.
Two of the humanoid monsters step toward us. “We have some visitors,” one of them croons, voice muddy and wet.
They speak. Lucas’s hands tremble on his rifle, and I pray he doesn’t do anything rash.
“Looks like they’ve never seen a goblin before, Launak,” one of them chitters.
“No, don’t reckin’ they have, Aldgog. Peek at their ears, all rounded and short. Lost little humans,” Launak hisses.
Goblins. One of the many monstrosities Papa rambled about in his tales. He said they were enemies of the fae. But to see them here, in the flesh…
There’s at least twenty surrounding us, laughing and chanting: “Lost little humans, lost little humans, lost little humans.”
“I’m looking for my father,” I say.
The chant of the surrounding goblins changes. “Father, father, father. Lost father. Father, father, father.”
Launak creaks its head unnaturally to the side. “No fathers around here.”
“No, the old man. The old man,” Aldgog says, showing a row of yellow teeth.
The goblins move closer as they talk and the ones above us scramble down the brambles. I have no illusions about their intentions, but if they know something about my father, I have to find out as much information as I can before we escape.
“The old man,” I say. “Where is he?”
“Don’t want to go where the old man’s gone.” Something akin to fear crosses Aldgog’s face.
“Taken,” Launak hisses.
“Who has my father?” I demand.
“Winter.” A black tongue snakes out of Launak’s lips, and his voice pitches low as he says, “Keldarion and his beasts.”
Keldarion…
Fearful chittering and shrieks sound from the surrounding goblins. “Keldarion. Keldarion. Prince of the beasts.”
Fear blossoms in my chest, and I realize the goblins have gotten so close I can smell their putrid breath, like fermenting leaves, old mushrooms, and warm, wet mud. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“Keldarion and his beasts of the Briar.”
“Shut the fuck up, all of you,” Lucas roars and cocks his rifle.
“Lucas, wait!”
He fires.
Loud bangs sound around me and light flashes in my eyes. There’s the horrible sound of their screeching as bullets fly into the goblins.
His rounds fizzle out, and I stare at the massacre. At least five of the goblins lay dead. Black inky blood leaks into the soil.
“Run,” I gasp.
We leap over the dead bodies of the goblins, but movement sounds behind us. Whatever shock these monsters entered from Lucas’s attack has worn off. They’re coming.
Lucas falls hard, and his rifle skitters beneath a twisting thicket.
“Shit,” he swears. A dark shadow leaps over me—one of the hyena creatures—and throws itself over Lucas. He screams as the creature’s sharp claws pierce into his back. Behind, the goblins cheer, voices growing louder at their approach.
“Lucas!” Horror rises within me, and instinct takes over. I grab one of the dead goblin’s thorn swords and plunge it into the flesh of the rotten dog’s leg. Black tar-like sludge spurts from the wound and it lets out a yelp of pain.
Lucas pushes it off him. The creature rolls, falling off the edge of the gully and into the tangle of thorns below.
With no time to find the rifle, Lucas pushes himself to his feet, and we take off in a sprint, going in the direction we came. Ahead lies the rosebush, the red flowers beckoning. Beyond that bush is safety. There’s a deep agony knowing my father is still in this place, but I can’t search for him if I’m dead. I’ll come back.
Something snatches my ankle, and I tumble, clattering over the edge of the cliff, a scream erupting from my throat. I jerk to a stop as my scarf snags on one of the giant thorns. I desperately reach up and grab the fabric, managing to hold myself up. Below me is nothing but the dark gully, a tangled briar of spear-like thorns. Goblins cluster around the edge, snickering and watching to see if I’ll fall.
“Lucas!” I scream.
He’s almost at the rosebush, far ahead of the goblins now that they’ve stopped to watch my torment.
“Lucas!” The scarf rips, and I jerk downward. It’s holding on by a few fibers.
“Down, down, down she goes,” the goblins sing. “All the way to Mother. Down, down, down, she goes.”
My feet kick over the open air. I definitely do not want to find out who Mother is. “Lucas!”
He stops running and turns to me. His hazel eyes widen.
The scarf rips and I fall, plunging into the briars. My head knocks against the cliffside and my vision goes blurry.
Something firm snakes around my waist, and I jerk to a stop. I’m moving slower, as if drifting through water, as something guides me through the twisted maze of thorns. I feel solid ground beneath me and whatever has me uncoils from my waist.
Everything is hazy, but the briars rustle as the goblins crawl down. Their yellow eyes glow through the darkness. I force myself to roll over and begin to crawl, belly dragging on the ground. A shooting pain radiates through my head.
The world comes to life, spinning, spinning, spinning. But no, not the world. The thorns are moving.
Horrid squelching shrieks pierce through the night. Black liquid drips down around me like rain. My vision fades to the silhouette of goblins impaled on rows of thorns.
Arms wrap around my waist and lift me up. I’m pulled against the broad chest of a man. Did Lucas return to me?
I blink, trying to focus as I look up and am struck by eyes black as shadows and hair the same color.
“Rest, princess,” a smooth voice whispers in my ear. “You’re home.”