Darkened Faerie TaleBy Lucinda
Part 7Willow’s fingers trailed over the stone, starting to feel raw and sore, as if her skin was being worn away by the stone. Maybe it was, after all, her fingertips weren’t nearly as hard as stone, and the law of erosion… Her fingers fell against empty air, and she turned, discovering a narrow second corridor. She turned, walking along it for a ways before it turned sharply to the right. The passage was barely wider than she was, and Willow was almost surprised that her hands weren’t brushing the walls as she walked.
The corridor wasn’t quite clean. More weeds sprouted, thin and scraggly, the stalks yellowed or brown, most of them having the shriveled look of a plant that had long since died. Leaves had fallen to become spiky curled bits that crunched under her feet, ratting and scraping along the rough stones. Pebbles that must have crumbled from the blocks of stone or fallen from the mortar made the footing a bit uncertain, forcing Willow to move slowly or risk twisting her ankle. Long strips of something appeared to have been shredded along the walls, something pale, almost grayish.
Willow lifted a scrap, staring at the bit of shed snakeskin in her hand. There was a faintly discernable diamond pattern. While it didn’t exactly match any type of snake that Willow could place, that sort of pattern was usually associated with some type of… rattlesnake. Rattlesnakes were poisonous. Was she trapped in a maze with poisonous snakes?
She started walking more carefully, wary of any larger collection of the weeds and fallen leaves, hesitant that they might be concealing some lethal snake. She tried to search her mind… were Rattlesnakes aggressive? It seemed harder to think about things like that, things that weren’t magical… Hadn’t some of those old Westerns that Xander’s mom watched called people 'meaner than a rattlesnake’ as an insult? That would have to imply that rattlesnakes were mean, were aggressive. Then they would probably attack her if she found one, and it would try to bite her, and she’d swell up, and there would be pain and agony and muscle convulsions and she’d die, gasping for breath as she flopped around…
No, get a grip. It didn’t work quite like that. Snake venom didn’t kill that quickly. There would be a short period of time that she could use to get the venom out before it would be too late… Before she couldn’t breath and died. Or did rattlesnake venom affect the muscles, so that it would start her convulsing until her heart exploded? Or maybe it would just paralyze her, making her body stiff and unresponsive, causing her to just collapse and die of starvation and exposure? It all depended on which type of venom the snake had, and how strong the poison was. All snake venoms were not equal… she’d known this once, hadn’t she? A science project on the snakes of California… But she couldn’t remember.
Snakes hadn’t seemed like a big concern lately. They’d spent the last few years worried about vampires and demons, and averting apocalypses and dealing with people getting killed… like Jesse, and Kendra and Buffy. She’d brought Buffy back from the dead, but instead of being happy, everyone seemed afraid and angry. Well, not Buffy, her once friend seemed harsh and cold, and if anything, she seemed to hate Willow now. Magic and research had given them all the answers they’d needed… find what it was, send Buffy to kill it or cast a spell, and everything’s over.
And they wondered why she’d started looking for magical answers to everything… Didn’t they see the pattern? Logically, if they used magic for so many things, why not for others? Especially when it was so simple… can’t afford a new pair of sandals? Magic them back together when the strap breaks. Hair going all frizzy and someone used the last of the conditioner? Magic it smooth again… Where was the harm in that? Why not use her magic when she could? It was logical, not an addiction.
Wasn’t it?
But none of that might matter now. She was in the Goblin Kingdom, and she really doubted that her biggest worry would be hair conditioner. Especially not if she ran into the snake that had been shedding all these scraps of snakeskin. If it was only one snake. She wasn’t certain… she had a fuzzy memory that Rattlesnakes were territorial, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be many of them, scattered through the maze. Maybe they had holes carved into the walls, living in the gaps between the stones…
There was a noise ahead, sort of a soft scraping noise. Willow slowed, almost unwilling to look around the corner. A shadow rose against the wall, something almost like a snake, but the shape subtly wrong, with huge fangs…
“Hssss… Whooo goessss?” The voice was like the rattle of dry leaves, and entirely inhuman.
Her heart was thumping in her chest, horribly strong, almost painful. She scrabbled back, hearing the scrape of something against stone, behind her. She lurched to her feet, a quick glance behind revealing nothing more than dead weeds scraping the stone in the weak breeze. But ahead of her… That was not the breeze, was not weeds. There was something there, inhuman and hissing and probably venomous.
But if there were more, then would walking along the corridor back the way she came be any safer? Wasn’t it just sheer good luck that she hadn’t already bumped into a snake? Scales scraped on stone again, and before she could even think any more, she was moving. Going upwards, to the top of the wall, away from snakes or snake-goblin things on the ground, hopefully out of it’s reach.
She drew in a breath as she stood at the top of the wall, her stomach fluttering from fear. Her hands ached, scraped on the stones in her fall. Her butt hurt from hitting the hard stones. Her feet were stiff and sore from walking as much as she had.
“Ssssss…. I know someone wassss here…” The voice came again, and something slithered around the corner. It looked almost like a snake at first, but it had a head far rounder, with tiny dark eyes, and a long purple tongue that kept flicking out into the air. It was some sort of goblin serpent, a dark and frightful naga. Grey and purple scales formed a diamond pattern down it’s back, and the part nearest the head was easily as big around as Willow’s neck. How big was the creature? More importantly, how likely was it to find her?
Willow looked around, seeing the stone walls spreading before her, creating complicated patterns and mazes that extended into the distance. It looked like the whole place was a nest of mazes, with few scattered patches of trees, and a couple places that looked like groups of buildings. The castle rose from the mazes, somehow looming over everything else despite the fact that the numerous high towers should have made it look graceful and delicate. It didn’t look delicate, it looked menacing and scary and impossible.
She knew that she wouldn’t like this, but she turned, carefully hopping along walls moving towards the castle. It probably wouldn’t work forever, but until then, why not take advantage of the fact that she could see?
Part 8In his castle, Jareth lounged on his throne, one leg flung over the arm of it as he leaned on the other side, chuckling at the images of the people in Sunnydale. “Very nice, it only took them four hours to figure out that their so called friends were missing. I’ll have to bring that up if either of them make it to the center. And the child who sent them away isn’t even sorry about it… wonderful.”
A pair of goblins came into the room, carrying a crying infant between them. “Your majesty, we have the child from the Sutcliffe house.”
“Good. Put her over there, with the other babies. Be sure to give her some milk to drink, we don’t want any more puny goblins joining the kingdom.” He glanced at the floating crystals, eyes searching out the young woman, barely more than a child, that had just wished away her infant. She had bruises over her body, and her eyes were far older than her face. “Always people wishing away their children, thinking that would solve all their troubles. Human can be such fools.”
He waved the viewing plane away, his hand shattering the image, which fell to the ground as a scattering of flower petals. He looked back at the crystals, pulling forward the one holding the image of the girl called Amy. “Let’s see what you’re up to.”
She lay in the grass of one of his gardens. Above her, a peach tree spread it’s branches, the goblin fruit hanging from the branches in all stages, from blossom to perfection. Tall grass nearly covered the girl, the bandage wrapped around her hand now sticky with fruit juice and blood. Her long brownish hair was spilling through the grass, picking up a paler tone, one that almost reminded him of tree bark.
Stretching, Amy sat up, a yawn spilling forth. She stood up, brushing the grass and leaves from her clothing, brushing against the grass with her hands. She picked a ripe peach, biting deeply into it, breakfasting on an assortment of the different fruits. She even plucked one of the blue melons, hollowing out a portion of it to use as a crude cup from the stream.
“No sense in going hungry, after all. And the water’s good, if cold. Wouldn’t something have happened otherwise?” She drank deeply, the water spilling over her, splashing at her face, her shoulders and hands. It didn’t feel nearly so cold now.
Almost slowly, she began wandering again, headed towards the end of the garden. She had to get to the castle in the center, so that she could go home. It was very important to go home, back to a place where she understood the way things worked. Somewhere that she could get new clothing. A place that wasn’t drowning in magic. The magic here was different, strange and wild, worked through everything, the walls, the grass, even the trees. She wondered if she would even be able to use it, hesitant from all the differences.
Well, there would only be one way to learn, right? She leaned against a wall, closing her eyes as she tried to reach the magic. It was slippery, wild and strong in her hands, and she whispered softly, trying to hold her focus. It seemed so much easier to think clearly now, and she wondered how long she had slept. “come on now, just a little magic, just to get something better to wear, something stronger, safer, not all torn and stained… come on now…”
Power washed over her, like a wave cresting, and she gasped, feeling like she was sinking, drowning. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, her wounded hand throbbing at the impact. Her eyes opened, one dark as shadow, the other wide and frightened and human. Finally, it ebbed away, and she could breath again. Trembling, she stood up, looking at what she was now wearing.
Pants flowed over her legs, not too tight, but showing the shape of them. They were of some strange material that looked like tree bark and felt like leather. Her feet were now encased with boots of the same substance, but a bit darker and thicker. A pale shirt with loose sleeves and a wide neckline fell past her hips, and a belt and pouch were at her waist. She also had a green vest and hat on. It didn’t look like normal clothing, it looked like something from a fairy tale.
She brushed her hand against the vest, wondering why it felt like leaves. “Cool.”
With that delighted word, Amy continued, humming slightly off key as she entered the next maze. This one was made of hedges reaching eight feet in the air, covered with shimmering green leaves and tiny red berries that smelled of cinnamon and pine. Fallen needles lined the pathways, creating a soft cushion for her footsteps, and making this portion much less tiresome than her earlier travels. How long had she been here? How long would it be until she found the center, until she could go home?
As Amy kept walking, it never occurred to her that her new garments looked curiously similar to those worn by the goblins. She didn’t stop to wonder why the water that had been so cold before her slumber felt only slightly cold now. It didn’t cross her mind to wonder how she’d made any use of a magic that only hours before she wouldn’t have dared touch.
Perhaps she’d never heard the stories that had said not to eat of the food in the lands of the Fae. Legends that spoke of those who ate being changed, never finding pleasure in mortal food again, or being trapped in the Fae lands forever. If Amy Madison had ever heard those stories, which had rather fallen out of fashion since the inventions of steam engines, and the use of electricity, perhaps she would have been more careful. But it was now too late to worry about what she had known before, or why she had ignored warnings.
Amy Madison had eaten of the Goblin Fruit, and had deliberately allowed her blood to fall on the Goblin Lands. Nothing would ever be the same for her again.
Part 9Willow was making her way along the tops of the walls of the snake holding maze. She kept glancing down, seeing the same scattered stones, dying weeds, and bits of snakeskin. That and the similarity of the walls was enough to tell her this was still the same lesser maze inside the great labyrinth. But she wasn’t very surprised by that.
She hopped again, the motion sending a scattering of pebbles down into the corridor. Unfortunately, they landed on a slumbering naga, the patter of the pebbles disturbing it’s slumber. And nagas can be very cranky when woken from their slumber.
“Sssssaaaa! Inntruderr… Where are you… sssssss…” The goblin naga was angry, and rose up, the top of it’s head peeking up over the walls. It saw the figure of the human, hopping over the tops of the walls. This made the naga very angry indeed.
It’s tail began to hammer against the stone walls, acting almost like a drum. The sound echoed, the vibration passing along the walls, rousing the others. It was rather similar to a particularly loud and offensive alarm clock. All over the maze, the goblin nagas woke, becoming even more surly and hostile. Something had disturbed them, and whatever it was would have to suffer. There were enough of them to make certain of that.
Willow had just landed on the next wall when she felt it vibrate. Almost like a drumbeat… she could hear dull thuds in time with it. There was also what started as a single angry hissing noise. That single hiss was soon joined by more, and the walls began to shake harder. Frantically, she looked back, seeing an angry goblin-snake peeking over the wall, this one bigger than the one that she’d seen before. And it looked very, very unhappy.
Just as she was starting to wonder how bad that could be, Willow saw more heads peeking over the walls. She could easily see a dozen goblin-snake heads over the walls, and more bumps that might have been the heads of smaller nagas. They all seemed very angry. She had the feeling that the target of their anger was her. Oh dear.
She began jumping again, not towards the castle, but towards the closest edge of another maze. There were far to many nagas going towards the castle, she’d never make it past all of them. But there was something to the left, a mass of walls that looked like smooth gray marble. It almost reminded her of lines of tombstones… And she really doubted that it would be safe and welcoming. Something thumped against eh wall, and she saw a furious purple and gray naga glaring at her, sharp teeth glistening damply.
Leaping to the next wall, she made her decision. Better an uncertain risk of the tombstone looking walls than the certain fate of the naga’s getting her. Now, she just had to hope that she could make it. That she could dodge and avoid the nagas long enough to reach something that might be a little closer to safety.
She was almost there, only a handful of walls away from the new maze, one that looked to be full of yellowed grass and shadows. She felt it more than seeing, felt an angry presence rise up behind her, heard the hissing and the scrape of scales on stone. Willow leapt forwards, hoping desperately to get away in time.
She felt two lines of flaming pain burn across the back of her calf, even as the cloth tore with a loud sound. It burned, hurting far more than it should, or maybe just as it should. She didn’t have any previous experience with snake bites, and even less with the bites of goblin nagas in magic kingdoms. She landed awkwardly, stubbing her toes hard, and lurching as she frantically wheeled her arms for balance. A second head moved, jaws snapping shut a hair’s width to short to catch her foot.
She toppled more than jumped down into the new maze, her lungs aching and her leg a mass of burning pain. Wincing, she turned her leg to look at the injury, seeing the twin gashes along her leg, the skin around them already turning an angry red. Guess that answered the question of poison…
Now, what could she do about it? She tore the rest of the pant leg, and began concentrating, trying to use her own magic to pull the poison out. She didn’t want to try to touch the magic of this place, uncertain if she could control it, if it would change her, or hurt her. The poison burned, making it hard to concentrate, to focus her attention. Finally, she was certain that she couldn’t’ do anything else for it, and she tried to wrap up the bite with the length of cloth.
She didn’t know how many other strange and terrifying creatures she would find here, but it couldn’t be good to walk around with her leg bleeding. It felt like an especially bad idea in a place that reminded her of a graveyard at twilight. She kept going, discovering that after a few corridors and turns, the areas started to open up, looking less like a maze, and more like… well, more like a cemetery. Instead of the solid walls, there were rows of low shapes, like uncarved headstones, with occasional mausoleum looking buildings here and there. She shivered, noticing that this place felt colder.
Soon, all of her but her leg felt cold, and she was shivering, her skin in goose bumps as she limped her way along. She couldn’t stay here, this place would be the death of her. She had to find her way to the castle, to the center of the Labyrinth. As she kept walking, she noticed that the stones changed, gaining words carved on them, names and dates. Some even had withered flowers and wreaths beside them. It looked all too much like a cemetery.
Her nerves screaming at her, she limped over to one, carefully freeing a spike of wood that held what looked to have been an evergreen wreath. She was now in possession of a flimsy stake. It wasn’t much, but it was a little better than nothing. She limped on, not seeing but expecting the gleaming eyes that followed her, peering from the doors of the mausoleums.
In his castle, Jareth smirked as he let go of the crystal showing an image of Willow. “Well, do you think that you’ll fare better in a place that reminds you of home? Sunnydale isn’t the only place where the graves are not so quiet. Very clever to go over the top of the maze, and it almost kept you safe from the naga… very good indeed. I can use more clever people in my kingdom.”
Part 10Amy walked on, the scents of cinnamon and pine wrapping around her almost soothingly. The sun was a comforting light, pouring over her, making everything bright and easy to see. The faint whine of insects was a hum in the background, and some of them even buzzed around her. Absently, she wondered why they weren’t biting her, weren’t inflicting that misery on her as well. Maybe the scent of the leaves was a sort of insect deterrent?
She heard a noise, the jangling of metal bits, and thumping of boot steps, and a sort of dull rattling noise. Amy froze, pressing herself almost into the hedge as she watched a group of goblins marching by. They had dark boots over long feet, and their pale shirts had been stained at patched, some hanging loose over thin bony shapes, others stretched taut over huge round bellies. Tanned hands bearing thick fingers with tough, dirty nails clutched at clubs and daggers, and beady eyes peered out over bulbous noses. Ears stood out like open doors, some rounded, some pointy, others torn and ragged. One goblin even had ears almost like a donkey, with matching yellowed buck teeth. They should have looked almost comical, but somehow, they didn’t. They looked dangerous.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she could no longer hear their footsteps. The goblin patrol was gone, she could step away from the hedge and continue trying to reach the castle. Once she was there, everything would be better, and she could go home. Home where she could fix her mistakes. Smiling, Amy prepared to step out of the hedge. Tried to step out.
But the soft evergreen needles were stuck fast to her, like glue. And for the first time, she noticed how they gleamed softly with a coating of sap, the source of the pine scent. She also noticed the tiny insects that had been caught on the needles, almost like flypaper. She pulled, struggling to get out, feeling the needles stuck to her clothing, her skin, her hair… She gasped and whimpered, feeling strands of hair pulled out by the roots, sensations like a band-aide being ripped from her skin repeated dozens, hundreds of times.
Then the first berry burst. Cinnamon scent filled the air, and the juice dripped onto the backs of her fingers, where it itched and burned. She almost screamed, barely managing to hold in the sound of pain. It felt like an eternity before she managed to rip herself free of the hedge, her skin blistering from the berry juice, feeling raw all over from the sticky needles. Her scalp hurt, long strands of hair caught in the hedge as proof that she’d been there. Her eyes stung from the tears.
She didn’t like this place anymore, and wanted to go home.
Sniffling, she kept moving, not even paying any attention to the tattered scrap of clothing that had fallen from her hand to the ground. The blisters over the back of her hand distracted her from noticing the lines where the rocks had cut her. She didn’t notice how instead of gaping raw cuts, they had become narrow scars that had a faintly green cast to them. Her whole body ached, and the scent of cinnamon had covered her, clinging and making her eyes water even more. Her skin felt raw and painful, every exposed inch either blistered from the berries or feeling abused from the sticky needles.
“I should have known that the hedge wouldn’t be safe.” She staggered onwards, just thankful that none of the berried had fallen into her shirt or pants, to blister her on even more tender parts of her body. “Nothing is safe here.”
Amy staggered onwards, flinching every time her hair brushed over the blisters on the back of her neck or the tops of her shoulders. She was certain that she must look frightful. Eventually, the sticky hedges gave way to place with a huge striped tent that reminded her of a circus. The hedges opened into what looked like a small courtyard. The only options from the courtyard were back into the hedges, or into the tent.
Amy took a deep breath, and went inside. What else could she do?
Darkness washed over her, and she paused, trying to let her eyes adjust. She could smell sawdust, and stale popcorn, and that clinging scent of cinnamon that lingered from those hedge berries. Eventually, here eyes had adjusted as much as they could, and Amy continued into the tent. She could hear other footsteps, the sounds of something thumping against wood, metal clanging against metal somewhere to the left, the scampering of feet, and occasional screams. There was also goblin laughter, most of it higher pitched and almost malicious sounding.
She barely noticed the occasional mirror, or the way that the dark area and her posture, currently bent and limping from the pain, almost resembled a goblin. Didn’t think about the way that her skin had become all red, lumpy looking from the hundreds of blisters. She did notice that her hair looked entirely disheveled, almost scraggly since that nasty hedge had pulled some of it out.
Soon, there was a fork in the path, or was that hallway? It was all set up like a tent, so hallway seemed more natural. She went to the left, and entered a section labeled ‘Fun Howse’ in big, scrawling red letters. A caricatured goblin face peered through the O, beady eyes almost seeming to follow her across the floor.
Inside was a tangled nest of corridors, with wobbling floors, trailing bits of something that brushed over faces and backs, which was pure agony over the blisters. Warped mirrors studded the halls, reflecting distorted images. It was unsettling how strange and goblin-like her reflections in them looked. Shivering, Amy tried to hurry through the tent maze, hoping that it would take her closer to the castle.
Part 11Willow kept hearing little noises, creakings and the sound of stone moving over stone. No crickets, no sounds of insects or birds or foraging small animals, just the sort of noises that made it sound like something was trying to get her. It almost reminded her of home.
Of course, home didn’t feel quite so cold, unless it was winter. And there were generally insects, the sort of noises that didn’t make you feel like the only living thing in the area. This area didn’t have the small orange goblin sun, but instead there was a large, red orange moon, with craters and shadows. It seemed to loom over the graveyard, casting a bloody looking light over everything. The shadows were thick, and Willow started to wonder just how big this graveyard really was. Was it actually a maze, or just… Did goblins actually die? Was this really a cemetery?
Something made a popping noise behind her. It was all wrong to be a broken twig. Her heart was pounding again as she turned around, uncertain what she would see.
A large mausoleum that she’d just passed was there, looming ominously, the door open. Hadn’t the door been closed? She was certain the door had been closed a few moments ago. She decided after a few moments that it would accomplish nothing to stand here and stare at the door, so she turned around and kept walking.
Willow kept walking, her leg still feeling hot and painful, and everything aching. She wasn’t certain if the aches were from the exercise, the poison, or something else entirely. But this was not the place to rest. She didn't know what new danger would be here, but it most likely would be a bad place to go to sleep.
She heard a sort of clacking noise from behind and to the left, like small hard things falling against stone. The noise sent a chill along her spine, and Willow started looking for a bigger weapon than the puny stake. Her eyes lighted on a long staff with a sharp blade at the end, and she grabbed it, hefting it in her hands and trying to prepare herself before it quite dawned on her where it had been resting.
It looked like a Goblin nearly her size, in plates of armor. Reddish moonlight glinted off polished planes, shining like blood on the blade of the weapon. In that moment Willow wondered if she was about to die. Then, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was a statue, something carved of stone. Not a real goblin.
There was a sort of noise behind her, like dry grass crunching. There was also a peculiar scent, like badly cured leather and rotting flesh. Something else made a noise, sort of a squelching sound, and there was a roiling stench of something that she could only call rotted bile. Trembling, Willow turned around, knowing that she wouldn’t like what she saw.
There were goblin zombies lurching towards her. Some were nearly skeletal, others were… well, much less bony and more with the rotten flesh. Flesh that had swollen, or sagged in putrid browns and bruised tones, rivulets of semi liquid decay falling gradually downwards over abdomens that had swollen and burst. The stench alone was almost enough to knock her to the ground, and her mind swam with the myriad diseases that they could be carrying.
The first one moved towards her, jaw gaping open with sharp, yellow teeth covered in a sort of greenish slime. There were sort of gurgling and wheezing noises, and one eye rolled in the socket.
“Stay back.” Willow tried to use something near reason, but her voice shook. Her hands were shaking as the rotting figures moved closer.
Willow swung the weapon, knocking a skeletal arm free from the bony shoulder, and slicing chunks of decaying flesh from several other goblin zombies. She kept swinging, her heart pounding as she tried not to breath. There were at least a dozen of them, and they didn’t seem to be afraid of her at all. The only good side was that the fallen pieces lay still on the ground, merely making the footing treacherous instead of swarming after her like dismembered undead locusts. The odds might have been workable… for a Slayer. Unfortunately, Willow was a witch.
Jareth released the crystal, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Well, she’s not about to go quietly. I hadn’t expected her to. But it is a bit of a pity. She would have made a delightful goblin. But they are rather restless in that cemetery.”
Dismissing Willow from his concern, he tossed the crystal with her image into the fireplace, the resulting flare frightening several nearby goblins. “Well, no point in watching to the very gory end, is there?”
Of course, even the Goblin King can’t pay attention to every little detail of the events of the whole Labyrinth. If he’d watched a bit longer, he would have discovered that he’d dismissed Willow’s future a bit prematurely. But he’d turned his attentions to a small boy who’d tried to get his baby sister back. His current efforts to pick his way through the Bog of Eternal Stench were amusing.
In the cemetery, a tall figure rose up behind Willow, sharp fangs looking almost bloody in the moonlight, nails sharp, wild hair swirling around a thin face with gleaming yellow eyes and heavy brows. It was not the face of a goblin, but the face of a vampire. One hand grabbed the glaive, pulling it away from Willow even as the other hand grabbed her, pulling her warm body against him. “This one is mine.”
The accompanying slash of the weapon caused enough dismemberment that the goblin zombies gave up, shuffling back. There would be time to feast after the vampire had fed.
Willow felt sharp teeth sink into her shoulder, and screamed, partly from pain, partly from frustration. Had she truly ended up in a kingdom full of goblins only to be killed by a vampire? She felt as if her shoulder was burning as much as her leg, and slipped into herself, not wanting to be aware of it if she died.
So Willow didn’t realize that the vampire stopped drinking far sooner than it would take to drain her. She didn’t realize that the vampire carried her away, into a mausoleum and down into a series of tunnels. Willow would have been quite amazed to see the vampire carefully tend not only the naga bite but his own bite, carefully stopping the bleeding and bandaging them over.
“You could be much more useful alive than simply another meal, red.” The slight smile had nothing of kindness, but a great deal of anticipation.
Part 12
Amy kept seeing the bent mirrors, casting misshapen reflections of herself. Each time, she flinched, and every flinch pulled at the blisters. Every time the dangling strings and fabric smacked into her flesh, she hissed, trying not to scream from the near constant agony. Her feet were throbbing with pain, and probably had blisters of their own.
She collapsed to the ground, mostly seated as she tried to regain control of her emotions. Nothing had been going right. The whole mess of everything since she’d become human again had been one downward curve after another, spiraling into pain and misery and this. She’d been banished tot eh Goblin Kingdom, and she had the feeling that if had been one of the Scoobies, one of Willow’s so called friends that had sent the pair of them here.
But… where was Willow? Was Willow even still alive? Has she been eaten by some huge monster, or trapped and killed in some evil hedge maze? Had she been dragged off to something horrible and drawn out? She felt herself shudder at the idea, at all the ways that someone could be killed in this place. From sticky hedges to minotaurs to evil sharp rocks in clear water… This was not a safe place.
Part of her mind contemplated various scrying and divinations spells, wondering if she could even try to check on Willow. Did she have the needed materials? Did she know a spell that would even work? But… another part was reluctant. If she didn’t look, she could think that clever Willow would surely be alright, that her friend was even now getting closer to the castle. She wouldn’t be confronted with an image of horrible death.
Yes, it was better if she didn’t know what had happened to Willow. She could let herself imagine the best that way. She could hope that someone got the happy ending. Because it really didn’t look like she would be going safely back to Sunnydale.
She heard almost happy shrieks, and looked up in tome to see a small group of goblins standing in front of her, blinking their little dark eyes. One of them even wiggled his ears at her as he smiled, showing yellowed tusks at the bottom corners.
“Daddy… she fell into a Grabbit Bush…” One of the goblin’s whispered. This one was only half the height of the normal ones, the hair just as messy, but much more bouncy. The small goblin sort of bounced in place, rising on toes and sinking down, shifting from foot to foot.
“Yes, Moggit, she did. That’s why I keep telling you not to play over there.” Tusks nodded at her, and the group kept going.
One of them even looked back, winking at her suggestively. “I ‘ope your day gets better.”
It took her a few moments before the alarm faded and everything made sense. They’d mistaken her for a goblin. They thought that she belonged here. The idea almost made her cry. She didn’t want to stay here, didn’t want to be a goblin.
But she wouldn’t have a choice if she didn’t get to the castle.
Amy lurched to her feet, staggering a bit. Was it from exhaustion? Were those berries having more of an effect on her than just the blisters? But that didn’t matter anymore. She kept moving, passing over more wobbly floors and distorting mirrors. The light in here had to be bad… she almost looked greenish in the mirrors. She wasn’t green. She wasn’t.
Eventually, the twisting passages came to an intersection. One direction had a sign reading ‘Howse of Horrars’ and the other direction read ‘Out’. Beady goblin eyes in knobby goblin faces were drawn into all the O’s, and they seemed to watch her as she tried to decided whish way to go. In the end, she decided to go out.
‘Out’ lead her down a bit of a ramp, and into the middle of a slightly undersized village. Thatched roves sloped crazily, with bent chimney pipes sticking up, and crazy looking weather vanes. Narrow streets twisted along, cobbled almost evenly. It looked… almost peaceful. A goblin village. Best of all, the Castle rose in a towering intimidating mass right beyond the village walls. A huge set of double gates blocked the view of parts of the castle.
A trio of goblins staggered down a road, weaving across it, singing off-key. The lyrics seemed to be something obscene involving a ‘Bess’ and a sheriff. From the half filled stein in the hand of one goblin to the reek of something almost but not quite beer that surrounded the three goblins, Amy was left with no doubts that they were entirely drunk.
“Drunken goblins… now that is just…” She shook her head, wondering why she wasn’t more surprised.
“A human! I saw a human!” A gruff voice bellowed an alarm from behind Amy.
She spun around, looking around in panic. Any moment they would swarm after her… There was a sudden clattering sound, and a bunch of iron plated goblins mounted on what she could only describe as ostrich lizards jogged into view. They each carried lances striped with red and white.
“There he is, get him!” One of the plated goblins roared, his voice echoing from the helmet.
With an appalling amount of clatter, they charged past Amy, and she caught a glimpse of a figure in red darting away. She just gasped for breath, relieved that she wasn’t about to be skewered.
But wait, where had the riders come from? Her quick search found that he huge gates had been opened, and she made her way towards them, threading through the large crowd that had gathered to watch the riders chase after the unlucky human.
Maybe she should do something, try to help the guy? Make an effort to keep him from being skewered? Glancing, she saw what looked like a hay wagon, parked precariously along the twisting street. If she pulled the little wedges that kept the wheels from turning… yes. Carefully, she reached with her magic, pulling the wedges sideways, freeing the wheels to turn. It started down the little hill, gaining in speed as it rumbled towards the square that held the most noise.
Having done that, she turned back to the gates, discovering that they were starting to swing closed. She darted forward, her feet sending shafts of agony, her muscles tired and stinging. But she managed to slip through the gates before they closed.