The Goat Man
I had to put her to sleep.
Her crying was annoying me. All those screams and wailing, and for what?
For a man who abused her and her family?
And when I heard her praying for him, I had to mask my amusement with a shout.
I rolled my eyes and urged my horse to move faster as dawn approached and the first step of my plan was complete.
But I had a way to reclaim the soul I lost today.
Even if I drenched the blood of the man who had wanted to marry the woman behind me, I just couldn’t stand his face, nor the way he looked at her, as if she were dirt on his already muddy boots.
The human’s head rested against my back, a faint floral scent drifting to my nostrils. I sniffed, not disgusted by it.
The moon was hiding behind clouds, casting us into shadows, while stars painted the dark sky, guiding our way to my lair. My stallion galloped into the night, its hooves breaking the dirt covered by needles.
Firs and pines stretched before us, their roots making it harder for the horse to advance.
Upon arriving at my cave, I had left the horse in the stable and floated the peasant’s body into one of the rooms I had kept untouched for centuries.
My master had given me this cave to oversee the community of peasants below the hill. Whenever my enchanted Mirror showed me a soul, I would descend upon it. This usually happened during the Girls’ Fair. Although that was my day, my master could send me to other areas of Romania whenever he wished.
The damp air of the cave struck me as I stepped inside it, the smell of freshly cooked food mingling with the cold.
My servant was lingering near my chamber, pretending to clean the Souls’ Mirror, though I knew it had already been polished the day before. Candles lit my steps as I entered the room, the scent of melting wax replacing the sweetness of flowers that clung to my cloak. A sudden headache gripped me.
“Boy, what are you doing here? Go fetch some food!” I ordered, relieving myself of the heavy garment.
I threw it on the stone floor and walked towards the shiniest mirror that had ever existed. I tapped it once. Red light blinded me for a moment, displeased that I did not offer it a new soul. I tapped again.
The mirror revealed a pale woman, resembling the one I had taken. Her horns were longer than mine, her eyes as white as milk. Storm-dark hair brushed the ground. Her skin was as soft as snow. If I was dark, she was light.
She was my ticket to freedom.
I only needed to persuade her to do my bidding.
With her, I could finally roam the Earth as a man again, as I had before this wretched punishment.
The servant returned, staring at the blood-dripping scythe propped against the wall, a crimson puddle forming beneath it.
“Make sure you clean it before I go out next time!” I barked, looking at the tray of food. Reaching for the wine glass, I breathed out in relief.
He nodded and placed the tray on the table. The aroma of hot m?m?lig? made my stomach growl.
I took the skull off, placing it on my bed, stained with the peasant man’s blood. I went again to the mirror, this time absorbing my reflection.
Slowly, the fur receded, replaced by smooth, pale skin. My ears returned to normal, hidden beneath dark hair. Hooves gave way to hands and legs. Only the eyes remained the same: white with thin blue lines crossing them.
My servant handed me a robe, which I wrapped around myself, covering my body entirely.
I took a seat at the table, ignoring the cutlery, and began to eat with my hands.
A long life with hooves forces one to abandon forks and knives for nobles.
The small bowl next to the plate was filled to the brim with mujdei.
While sinking my teeth into the warm food, I thought about how her life would change. Seeing her determination made me question whether this peasant would truly be suitable for my endeavours. I didn’t need a wolf.
I needed a sheep.
From the images the Souls’ Mirror had shown me before the Girls’ Fair, the woman was precisely that.
She lowered her head every time her father entered the room, always taking her sister up to the hill or to the church, running away from his wrath.
But mostly, she hid behind the cows and the horses.
The ghost’s gaze bore into my head.
I whirled my head at him, his see-through body bobbing up and down. “What?” I growled, tearing the m?m?lig? in half and smothering it in the garlic sauce.
He pursed his lips, his empty eyes roaming over my face. “What should I do for the girl? Should I make a fire for her?”
I watched as the wax melted from the candles alight on the table. My fingers dipped into it, the scalding wax not even tingling them. “I have no interest in her well-being,” I muttered.
I had already lost a soul because of her.
Her spirit was pure, untainted, having never harmed a fly in her life. And for her, to save her despicable father, was a sign of naivety. I just wondered how it would play out when she would have to do what I will demand of her.
The innocence she harboured in her soul disgusted me. But a smirk pulled on my lips at the thought of it disappearing in thin air.
“Sure, master. Do you want her fed?”
The boy’s ignorance tested my patience. I clenched my fists as his insolence was leaving me hungry. “I do not care, boy! You can feed her pigs, chickens, weeds, bones, and rats. I could not care less. Now LEAVE!”
My voice echoed off the walls. I took another mouthful of food and stuffed it. The grease from the fish was dripping on my chin, my hunger sated.
The boy scurried away, leaving me alone.
As I always was.
Alone and content in my solitude.
After I finished my meal, I took off my robe and stared at myself in the mirror again. My skin was spotless and young, my body lean. Only my eyes betrayed my age.
Eternity.
“What is it that you want, Goat?” my master’s voice asked.
If I were eternity, my master was the abyss.
My back stood straighter at the sound of its ironic tone, my upper hooves joined against my chest. I never liked coming to its lair. It was darker than mine, no light coming in or out.
Situated underground, the lair was filled with the voices of the lost souls gathered in the same place, the only way to be guided through the darkness. Murky eyes followed every step I took down the endless corridor. They were the whisperers, knowing everything and everyone.
The master’s eyes saw everything. And if one would not sit straight or with their head down, souls would be taken from them, eternal life cut down to almost nothing.
“I want to make a trade,” I declared, my voice as loud as I could manage.
Instead of its harsh voice, whispers rippled through the walls. Some were shouting, some were sniggering, but most of them were making my pulse race.
“A trade, you say?” My master sounded intrigued, its knowing eyes on me. “My whisperers tell me you have lost a soul at the Girls’ Fair. Is that true?”
Saliva coated my tongue. “Yes,” I answered, my hooves clacking on the floor.
“And you still want to make a trade, Goat? After your failure?” it laughed. My teeth clenched, pain ebbing in my mouth.
I nodded.
“And what would that be? A new chance?” it asked, his voice mocking me along with every whisper on the walls.
I swallowed, every part of me screaming to run. But I had to convince my master, the Elk, to set me free. So, I gathered my courage and put my plan on the line.
“I want the peasant I took to stand in my stead. She is untainted by malice. She would balance my deeds and bring you more souls than you ever had.”
Laughter met my ears, coming from everywhere. But not from him. The voices scratched my hearing, pouring anguish into my chest.
Through the darkness, I couldn’t see a shadow. Although I felt my master ponder.
“SILENCE!” The Elk’s voice vibrated the ground, my hooves trying to find stability.
At once, everything stopped.
“What you propose sounds too good to be true. Who would train her to rip souls, since she is untouched by evil? She would cower at the first drop of blood, Goat.”
I placed my hooves on the sides of my body. “She did not cower from me, Master. Not when I came for her father. She offered herself in his place.”
There was no sound coming from the walls, the whisperers deliberating, their silence slashing through my skin. I wanted to scream at them that they are taking too long, that I was wasting minutes of my life.
I knew I had more lifetimes to live than any peer of mine, but every second was precious. And I wanted to be free.
“We came to an agreement. We will watch you closely as you train her. You have until the next Girls’ Fair. If by next year she has not collected ten souls, both of you will be stripped from this earth and become collectables.”
My jaw ticked.
Ten souls were… not impossible. Not if she was a fast learner.
I left the master’s den and rode my horse into the night. The moon was bright, illuminating the graveyard that surrounded the Elk's lair, the sky starless. The graves were filled with soldiers who died in the last war that took place in Romania, their spirits still lingering between the cave walls.
Nothing good had come from the war. At least not for mortals.
For me, the battlefield had been a feast. Souls everywhere, ripe for the taking, each one adding to my years.
My horse galloped faster through the haunting forest that surrounded the cemetery. Aside from its hooves pounding the ground, my ears perked at the songs of owls and the flapping of the bats’ wings, the crisp scent of wood lingering on my cloak.
I was riding for my freedom.
And I had faith that I would succeed. That once again, I will be human.
Until my wrinkled, dying breath.
Her body thrashed in her sleep, her feet kicking at the cold air. From the corner of my eye, I saw the fire subdued to dying embers, the cave’s icy breath swallowing every trace of warmth.
The peasant’s face scrunched with every muscle at once. Her dark lashes fluttered, brushing against her cheeks in restless motion. Soon, she would be awake.
I took my leave, her tormented face imprinting itself on my mind.
Returning to my room, curiosity tugged at me. I wanted to know what she was dreaming. Barefoot, I walked to the Souls’ Mirror, where everyone’s mind resided. Tapping once, I was transported to a world of innocence, where a younger Ana and her sister were watching fish swim.
“Ana, do you think Father will forgive me for neglecting to sell the cheese at the market today?” the girl with blonde hair asked. Her sister, Angelica.
The peasant I took watched her sister, her sky-blue eyes warming.
“It is not your fault, Angi. He should have been the one to wake you up.”
Her sister sighed, her darker eyes moving over the rivers.
Their clothes were dirty and stained, their grey aprons discarded near the edge of the river, washed and rinsed. Their opinci lay recklessly on the water’s edge. Sunlight danced on the drops of water clinging to the girls’ skin.
“How come you are so righteous?” her sister asked, the look in her eyes filled with pride and admiration.
The younger version of the woman sleeping in my spare room turned to her sister.
“It would come in hand, from time to time, to listen to Father Neagu’s sermons.”
“But they are so tedious!” the youngest whined.
“Angi, love is not tedious. And love for the Highest of beings is enough to carry on,” the human explained gently.
“Why?”
“Because when there’s no one left to turn to, He will listen.”
“Does He do miracles?” her younger sister asked, her brows knitted.
“Only if you want Him to,” the peasant smiled. Something in my stomach twitched. “When you are in bad health, do you know to whom mum prays?”
“God,” the child mumbled, dangling her feet over the edge.
“Indeed. After turning to the doctor and the midwife from the village, after oiling your body with every salve she could get her hands on, she turned to God.”
“I only remember her putting a batik soaked in ?uic? and stuffed with potatoes on me. I don’t remember any prayers…”
“They were there. For days, those were the only words she could speak.”
The young girl considered her sister’s words and stood up, her hair turning almost white due to the sunlight.
“Then why does God not help us with father?”
At that, all the colour drained from the peasant’s face. A smirk pulled at my lips, and I raised my eyebrows. Laughter bubbled in my throat but disappeared as soon as it came.
“We are not the ones to judge, Angi. The time will come when our father will repent for his sins. Until then, we have to live as much as we can in the little that we have. Only God can take with the hand that He gave.”
The irony was there. I had stepped into her god’s place and done what her silent fiction had never dared to do.