Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon's Bait or the Hollow Kingdom Trilogy. Those belong to Vivian Vande Velde and Clare B. Dunkle, respectively.
Chapter 1
As Alys half-crouched in the rain, tied to a pole waiting for the dragon to come and eat her, she pondered the set of events that had brought her to this moment. It had been no fault of hers, unless her father refusing to sell his shop to Gower the wheelwright counted. Alys wished she truly was the witch that the villagers had accused her of being, so that she could curse them all to hell. The same villagers she had known for all her 15 years of life had, with only few suggestions, been whipped up into a witch-killing frenzy.
But they didn't burn her at the stake. No, as Inquisitor Atherton had said, why not kill two birds with one stone by feeding her to the local dragon, appeasing it in the hopes that it would stop feasting on the villagers' sheep. It was a logical assumption that by feeding the dragon a young virgin, it would perhaps take pity on them and leave them alone. Gower and his family had certainly supported the idea.
That was why, for over two hours now, Alys had been tied to a pole in the freezing cold rain. It was such a downpour, Alys was afraid the nearby lake might flood. Not that it mattered. She was going to die tonight, whether it was death by dragon, drowning or even the wolves howling in the forest a hundred feet away, Alys was going to die tonight. She didn't want to die. In the hours she had crouched here shivering, thoughts of revenge had been a scalding heat inside, raising her to fevered temperatures. Either that or she was becoming delirious with fever from the rain. Either one was possible.
At last, the rain stopped, the only water pouring down coming from her sopping dress. Alys tried to crouch farther down on the ground, trying to get more comfortable. That was when she discovered that the ropes on her hands were slippery from the rain. She thought back, trying to remember who had tied the ropes. It had been Perryn the wood-gatherer. Nicer than most of the villagers, but the important thing was that he never did anything right. Tying ropes was no exception, which explained why the knots were loosened, making it possible for Alys to slip her hands out of the knots, unscathed apart from a few raw knuckles. Alys slid her aching arms around in front of her, gasping as the circulation painfully returned. She fell to her knees, rubbing her arms as she came to the sad realization that she had nowhere to go. That was when the dragon came.
It was huge. Even seen from hundreds of feet below, it still dominated the night sky, completely blocking the nearly full moon. Desperately, she hoped that it hadn't noticed her, even with the circle of dim torches surrounding her. A moment later, her wish was granted; the dragon was passing her by without a second glance. Then she remembered her thoughts of a moment ago and realized that her choices were limited to the matter in which she died – eaten by dragon or torn apart by the wolves in the forest. After a moment's deliberation, Alys decided to brave the forest and wolves within. It was always possible that they wouldn't eat her, whereas, if she attracted the attention of the dragon, it was a certainty that she would be roasted by its flames.
Alys stayed still for a few more seconds until the dragon was gone, then she wearily made her way to the forest, tripping frequently in her exhaustion. A few scraped palms later, she entered the ominously dark forest. She listened for the howls of wolves, but strangely, they were all silent now. Probably scared away by the dragon, she reasoned. As Alys stumbled through the forest, she began to feel as though someone was watching her, though she neither heard nor saw hair nor whisker of anyone. Maybe the wolves weren't as scared as she'd thought. Alys quickened her step, accomplishing nothing but making her trip more often.
Suddenly, she heard something above her and looked up, getting a flash of fur and feathers before she was knocked on her back, the wind completely knocked out of her. She saw stars for a moment, due to knocking her head on the ground when whatever it was jumped on her. When the stars cleared, she found herself staring into the face of a monstrous eagle. She screamed and it tilted its bird's head, regarding her.
"I didn't take you for the screaming type," it said in a deep, pleasant voice. She stared at it wide-eyed in shock. "Well, no matter," it continued. "You're still going to be my wife. A little young perhaps, but I get the feeling that if I waited any longer, you'd get yourself eaten by a dragon or some such nonsense." It seemed amused now, if it's tone was any indication.
"Wife? What-" Alys's confused question was interrupted when the giant eagle got up off her and threw her over it's shoulder, walking deeper into the forest. She screamed again, yelling, "Put me down, you monster! I'm not going to marry you, whatever you are!"
She got no response, but she did notice something amazing. After its folded wings, she could see a lion's back legs and tail. It's back was furred also. Desperate to get away from this grotesque monstrosity, she kept screaming and started pounded it's back with her fists. It ignored her completely, continuing to walk deeper into the forest. About a minute later, her fists were hurting from hitting him repeatedly and she noticed that he had ducked into a small opening in upraised ground of a hill. Immediately, she was greeted by a room full of mirrors, making her dizzy and nauseous. She hid her face against the monster's back so she couldn't see them.
At the end of the room, there was a set of huge, iron doors. A deep voice emanated from them.
"Hello, goblin King," it said respectfully.
"Hello, door," he replied cheerfully. "This is my bride. I'm just going to prepare her for the ceremony."
"Congratulations, and may I say what a beautiful wife she will make."
Then the door swung open of its own accord. Alys realized the door had been talking, and apparently she was being carried away by the goblin King. She thought that was probably bad, but her voice was too hoarse to keep on screaming. She lay limp over its shoulder, too tired to do anything else. The goblin started down a winding staircase and it seemed like he was carrying her down forever. Finally, they reached a tunnel-like hallway dimly lit by torches. He carried her into a small, cave-like room. Its only furnishings were a table-high ledge carved from the wall and a chair-like hunk of stone.
He set her down in the chair and ran to the door they had entered through, laying his hands upon it. It clanked and shuddered. He ran over to the door on the other side of the room and spoke in a language she couldn't understand to someone beyond the door, then shut the door and slowly walked over to join her. This gave her opportunity to assess just how grotesque this thing was.
In height, he was about six and half feet from paws to head. His head and upper chest were that of a huge eagle. The upper arms were feathered also, and the forearms and hands were eagle's feet. From the abdomen down, he looked just like a lion, with a lion's hind legs and tail, which was about three feet long. She knew from when she had been over his shoulder that he had wings. The feathers were a light golden-brown and the fur was the gold of a lion's fur. He had a sort of mane on its neck, only it was made of feathers rather than hair. His ears were like the the tufts of a great horned owl. The eyes he was studying her with were yellow-gold bird's eyes.
When he reached her, he took two of the four golden circlets lying on the table and placed one on each of her wrists. When he put each one on her wrists, he simply pulled them in half and reconnected them seamlessly on each wrist. Once they reconnected, they morphed to fit the contours of her wrist perfectly. She tried to pull her wrists out of his grasp, but he kept a firm grip on each, until he was done with them. He was silent the whole time. When he released her wrists, she tried to get up from the chair, but he pressed her back down into it, before kneeling down and removing her old, worn shoes. Then he picked up the other two circlets and placed them on her ankles in the same fashion.
He got up and picked up a strangely shaped golden goblet, filled with a dark liquid. It was normal apart from an unusual whistle-shaped addition to the rim.
"Drink this," he told her, finally breaking his silence.
She shook her head mutely, clenching her teeth and compressing her lips into a thin line. His expression didn't change, but she became very scared and leaped out of the chair. At least she tried to, anyway. He moved like lightning, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back with it. She found out what the whistle-shaped thing on the cup was for when he wedged it through her lips and between her teeth, pouring the liquid into her mouth. She was forced to swallow, or else choke. After a few gulps, he pulled the goblet from the mouth and released her hair.
She coughed and cursed at him. But what came out of her mouth was not a curse word, it was simply, "Ahhh!" Her hand flew to her throat and she tried again to say something, but she still couldn't form words. She looked at him in horror.
"It takes away your words," he explained. "So you can't use any spells."
She was going to tell him that she wasn't a witch, but she just ended up letting out a wordless "ah" again.
"Well, that's my part done. I'll give you to the women now." He took her arm and tugged her through the inner door. Shutting the door behind them, he left her there and continued on through another door.
Meanwhile, she was swarmed upon by a gaggle of things that vaguely resembled women. Alys caught a chicken head, a blue head with pointed ears and even a head that was half cat, half ugly human. Destroying the last tattered vestiges of her dignity, they stripped her and tossed her into a bath, scrubbing her skin until it was bright red and washing her hair until it gleamed. She didn't resist, deciding to save her strength for a worthier, less pointless cause. They pulled her out of the bathtub and rubbed her dry on a stone couch. They dried her hair and combed it while trimming her nails and rubbing oil into her skin until it, too, gleamed. She noticed they polished her finger and toenails with gold paint. She had never heard of such a strange custom.
Finally done with her nails and hair, the blue-headed woman came up with another paintbrush and started painting strange writing on her arm in black ink. She wrote about ten lines and every time she finished one, she dropped a dot of oil on it and one or two characters would turn gold and the women would cheer. Alys thought it was all very pagan and quite offensive to her as a god-fearing woman, even if the villagers had called her a witch.
Her hair had dried while this was going on and now the women were threading bright ribbons into it, doing it up into an ostentatious hairstyle. They piled all the hair on top of her head, except for one long lock, which they brought around to hang down the front of her neck. Done with her hair, they at last gave her some clothing. It was very strange to her, though. They gave her a pair of what looked like men's breeches, only they didn't even reach mid-thigh. Mystified, she slipped into them.
They didn't even give her a chemise, just slipped her into a small dress that barely reached her knees. They laced up dress and she examined it. It was made completely of silk and it was sleeveless, held up by thin straps on her shoulders and her nearly nonexistent chest. Alys was horrified to be in such a skimpy dress and waited for more clothing, but was disappointed. The dress was solid gold in color, and the wisps of silk on the skirt looked a lot like feathers. The bodice was tight and stiff, and gleamed like metal. The whole dress clung to her, giving the impression that she was naked.
When they'd finished lacing up the small dress, they tugged her over to another door, not the one the goblin King had left through, and pushed her through a small tunnel. At the end of it, there were more goblins in golden armor that carried two short, golden chains. They touched the chains to the circlets on her wrists and ankles and they immediately stuck, effortlessly shackling her. Then they grabbed her arms and pulled her out of the tunnel onto a long stage.
When she emerged, she heard deafening cheers to her left and saw that there was a semi-circular arena watching the stage. Looking forward again, she saw two long tables set on the black floor of the stage and everything was lit by torches. It was still dim, but not as dim as it had been in that little room with the table and chair. Finally, she noticed the goblin King and wondered how she had missed him.
He hadn't put on any clothing except for a long black cloak covered in gold symbols, similar to those on her arm. The cloak must have had holes in the back of it, for his wings poked through. He had his wings spread to their full span, about 15 feet. It was a truly majestic sight, this half eagle, half lion creature with the wings of a golden angel.
The armored guards led her to the first table where the goblin King was standing. As she was led across the floor, she was forced to step on four squares of sand. They each had symbols on them that, as she stepped on them, writhed and flew away. Once she had reached the table, the guards took her wrists and placed them palms up in brackets on the table. Then they removed the chain between her wrists and stepped back. Alys noticed three golden knives on the table, a detail which terrified her.
The goblin King flapped his wings once and folded them in over his cloak. Then he stepped up beside her and, taking up a golden paintbrush, he dipped it in gold paint and wrote something on her forehead. The paint was cold on her skin, making her shiver. When he finished with that, he laid the paintbrush down and uncurled her fingers, laying her hands flat upon the table. He fingered the lifelines on her palms and when he turned away, she couldn't move her hands at all!
Then he picked up two of the knives, testing the edge with his bird fingers. They were very sharp and drew blood instantly. The blood was a clear brown. The goblin King took the knives and held them up above each of her wrists. Alys squeezed her eyes shut, wincing. She felt a searing pain as the blades met her palms, making tears come to her eyes as she gasped in pain. She opened her eyes to see two long cuts stretching from the center of her palms to the bend of her wrists. The goblin King unfastened her wrists from the brackets and held her bleeding hands above a bowl, letting the blood drip into it. Then he submerged her hands into a pot of water, only it wasn't water. The liquid made her wounds burn like fire and she started to cry.
But, when he pulled her hands out of the pot, she saw that the wounds had stopped bleeding. He took up the other knife and she braced herself, preparing for more pain, but he cut his own wrist over the bowl, letting his own brown blood drip into it this time. Then he reached for some powder on a plate and threw it in the bowl of blood, making it swirl around like a whirlpool. It swirled faster and faster, gradually producing a red vapor several feet high. Suddenly, a wisp of bright, glittering blue emerged at the top. It was only a few inches high, but was more substantial than red mist. When the smoke dissipated, there was a blood-red cream in the bowl, with thousands of gleaming blue flecks in it. It was as thick as frosting. There were some astonished whispers among the crowd.
The goblin King dipped a finger into the cream and smeared it liberally on the wounds. Instantly, the pain faded and the cuts disappeared, leaving shimmery lines, the color of the cream. Alys stared at her palms in shock. The goblin King stared at them too, examining them closely. At length, he turned to crowd, said something in that strange language and the crowd went wild, cheering and stomping their feet. Alys couldn't be sure, but she thought he looked extremely pleased, though it was hard to tell his expressions because of his beak. Alys examined the lines more closely, trying to see what they were so happy about. She saw two clean lines stretching from her palms to her wrists, even in length and with no interruptions in them. The monsters were probably just happy to see bloodshed.
The guards approached again, interrupting her dire thoughts. They attached the chain between her wrists again and took her wrists out of the brackets on the table, before leading her to the next table while the goblin King preceded them. Alys noticed the five foot, golden sword lying on the table and realized her unfortunate prediction of earlier had come true – she really was going to die tonight.
Alys refused to cry. Even when the guards forced her to her knees on a cushion and put her wrists in brackets above her head, she was dry-eyed. She shut her eyes and relaxed, waiting for the goblin King to chop off her head. She felt his hands take her one of hers and... clip her fingernails? What? Her eyes fluttered open to find that he was indeed clipping off three of her nails into a small bowl. He took the bowl to the table and clipped off some of his fingernails as well, before dropping them onto a plate. On the plate, there was an inexplicable fire burning merrily, and it quickly burnt away the nails.
He walked up to her again and clipped away the lock of hair that the women had left hanging down her neck. So that was what it was for. The goblin King clipped off some feathers from his feather-mane and put them in the bowl with her hair, before feeding them both to the fire. Then he took a large needle and a little golden plate and pricked her finger with it, letting the blood drop onto the little plate. He did the same to his own finger. Then he held the plate with the blood and held it upside-down above the fire, letting it lick away the blood.
Suddenly, the fire vanished, leaving a small pile of silver ashes behind. The goblin King took the sword and, very carefully, smeared the ashes over it. When he had rubbed the last of the ashes over it, the sword let out a musical note, like a struck bell. The crowd was completely silent as he walked over to Alys holding the sword, his bird-face unreadable. This was it, she thought. The moment of her demise had arrived.
She still refused to cry. Her lip started quivering and tears came to her eyes, but she clenched her teeth and blinked the tears away. The goblin King raised the sword high above his head, preparing to strike. Without warning, he brought the sword swinging down on her head. Before her disbelieving eyes, the sword morphed into a golden snake that landed on her shoulders. It slithered around before raising up in front of her face, swaying gently while it looked her in the eyes.
Apparently satisfied, it started wrapping itself around her body. It wrapped twice around her neck before going behind her shoulder and then wrapping in five rings down her left, upper arm. It's head came to rest on the outer side of her arm, just above her elbow. Then it seemed to sink into her skin, becoming no more than a painting. That was the final straw. Alys screamed. She kept screaming even as she was freed from the restraints while the crowd roared deafeningly. They were cheering so loud that her own screams were drowned out completely.
As soon as her hands were free, she began tearing at the tattoo on her arm, believing it to be slithering around beneath her skin. The goblin King grabbed her arms, holding both her wrists in one of his hands. Then he swung her into his arms, still holding her wrists, and carried her from the room, still screaming. They went into a small room with a couch which he laid her down on. Her screaming had dissolved into sobs, and she curled into a ball on the couch, hugging her legs to herself.
The goblin King sat on the couch next to her and pulled her into his lap, making her sit up with her legs sideways across his. Then he took another goblet from a nearby table and put it to her lips. He coaxed her into opening her mouth and poured it down her throat.
"I hate you!" she sobbed, then seemed surprised to find that she could speak again.
"Why?" He sounded merely mildly curious.
She looked up at him from her position on his lap. From the dumbfounded expression on her face, it was obvious that she was shocked that he would even ask such a question. "You kidnapped me, poisoned me, dressed me up like a doll, cut my wrists and almost chopped off my head!" she shouted at him indignantly. "So much for wanting to marry me."
"But I did marry you. That was the ceremony just now. And for the record, I did kidnap you, but if I hadn't, you would have been food for the wolves before dawn. I also didn't poison you; if I had you'd be dead. As for dressing you up, well, the women do so love their part in the ceremony. They would have been enraged if I hadn't let them pretty you up a bit. You were in no danger of losing your head, either. That was the most powerful piece of magic we goblins have. It will protect you from almost anything, including yourself."
"You still cut my wrists!" she accused.
He was silent for a moment, then admitted, "That's true, I did. It was a necessary part of the ceremony, and those lines predict our futures. Here's yours," he said, pointing at her left hand. "And this one is mine." He held up her right hand, examining it. "Long and even. The same with yours, too," he said, examining her left hand. "A long, bright future for both of us. Well, perhaps not bright in the literal sense," he added, then saw tears come to her eyes.
"I don't want to live down here in the dark," she cried tearfully. "Can't I ever go outside?"
He was silent for a long time. Finally, he answered slowly, "Perhaps... I am a rather unique King and I often go outside. It's necessary to stretch my wings every few days. You can't come with me every time, but it's possible that I could take you with me on occasion. If it would make you happy...?"
"Yes! Oh, please, can we go out tomorrow?"
He laughed at her enthusiasm. "I'm afraid not. You need to adjust to your life here for a while. Perhaps on the full moon after this coming one. Then perhaps you'll get to meet the elves as well," he added as an afterthought. "I think you'll find you have a bit in common with them."
"But that's over a month away," she protested. "And I'm not going to adjust anyway. How does one adjust to living with monsters?"
"Hm... I don't know. Communication, perhaps? Desensitization as a result of immersion? Or maybe..." His voice took on a conspiratorial air. "Maybe... You become one of the monsters yourself. Just a thought," he finished cheerfully. "Anyway, you're not going out any sooner than the next full moon, so don't bother complaining about it. Now, it's traditional for King's Wives to spend their first night in this room, but I've never been one for tradition. If you like, I can take you up with me to the royal chambers and you can sleep in a real bed, rather than this sofa." He looked disparagingly at the piece of furniture they were currently seated on. "What do you think, hm?
"I'm not sleeping with you!" she objected, incensed.
"My dear, most King's Wives don't consummate their marriage on the first night. You're not under any pressure to do so, but I do insist that you and I sleep in the same bed. It will help you get used to being around me, a necessity, and to be honest, the idea of sharing a bed with you does sound rather appealing." Alys wished she could tell his expressions, so she could determine whether he was joking. "So what will it be, my dear? This couch or my bed?"
"I'll take the couch," she said, somewhat disgusted by his insinuations.
"So be it. I'll be leaving then. You may not like my bed, but I do, and I'd like to be in it right now. I'll come get you in the morning," he promised.
He lifted her out of his lap, setting her down on the couch next to him. Then he rose from the couch and walked gracefully over to the door. His grace surprised her, with his awkward form, she would have thought he would be more clumsy. Just as he reached the door, he turned back to her.
"I almost forgot to tell you name. In all the excitement, it just slipped my mind. You might have noticed that names are not a very high priority until the ceremony is over," he added, quite amused. "I am Marak Gryffinwing. You can call me Marak."
"Alys," she said grudgingly.
He cocked his head, regarding her curiously with his bird eyes. "Nice to meet you, Alys. Welcome to the Goblin Kingdom."
Tahdah! I did it! This is my entry to the September Writing Challenge for the Hallow Hill Lodge in the Clare B. Dunkle forum. I'm probably going to write more, but later chapters won't be part of the writing challenge. My plan for this story involves (of course) Alys meeting Selendrile at some point, and (of course) goblin revenge. Those villagers better be scared. :D
Okay, Dragon's Bait fans: No, it's not called Goblin's Bait. I'm not that corny. :P Anyway, I hope Alys was acting in character, and I hope you enjoyed the twist. If you didn't leave a review. I always reply to all my reviews, with a PM if they're signed. If not, look for the reply in the next chapter, right below the disclaimer. Also, if you haven't already, I urge you to read the Hollow Kingdom books. They're very good, and this story will make much more sense. For example, had you read them, you would have realized that Alys is a very small part elf.
Hollow Kingdom fans: Yes, there really is a lake, a forest and a hill next to a little town in Dragon's Bait. Yes, I did almost no work matching the two worlds up. Convenient, eh? Anyway, I hope you like the pairing of goblin and maiden in this story. If you don't leave a review and I'll argue it out with you. ;) You should also read Dragon's Bait if you haven't already. It's also very good, and if you'd read it, you'd know why Selendrile is so awesome. :P
My fans (if I have any): Meet the next in my continuing line of epic kings! I'm really curious to know what you think of Marak Gryffinwing, and what you think of the fact that he's a griffin. I think it's possible, but you may not, so leave a review and I'll argue that too. I hope you enjoy this story as much as you seem to enjoy FL&SS. I'll see you guys tonight/tomorrow in my next update with Marak Silverhand. :)