White Stag (Permafrost #1)(58)

A few feet before me the loose stones changed into hard ground. Above me, the ceiling glittered with crystals in an array of blues and purples and reds. I followed the stone, hearing the sound of a violin playing ever-so-sweetly.

I paused, listening in shock. Music wasn’t really a thing in the Permafrost. I was sure some goblins enjoyed it, but they would be quiet about it. It was not something anyone would dare partake in by choice—or at least that was the illusion. I was beginning to learn not everything was so black and white. Back before I was taken, I’d loved music. My father would strum his guitar, and I’d sing the beautiful songs my mother taught me about fair maidens and dazzling heroes. That was a long time ago though, and I didn’t know the words anymore. It didn’t matter; it wasn’t like they were true.

The hypnotic sound wrapped around me in a warm embrace, inviting me forward to stay forever and listen to the sweetness. The chords changed, managing to be sweet and melancholy and somber all at once. They seized my heart and brought it a-flight. The crystals twinkled with the music, and the world danced around me, blissful and beautiful.

I stopped suddenly, hand on my stiletto, and drew a quick slice across the tip of my finger. As the blood welled in the cut, the spell broke. The music was still beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but it no longer enthralled me. The crystals disappeared into dark stone formations colored red as blood.

The n?kken loved a fisherman’s daughter who lived by his lake. The fisherman was poor and bad at his trade until the n?kken made an offer. Never would the fisherman want for anything, if he gave him his daughter when she turned eighteen. When the woman was brought down to the lake to meet her husband, she cringed at his scales and webbed fingers. Thrusting a knife in her chest, she cried she’d never love a monster as she died. The blood poured into the water, and the n?kken in his sorrow let the flowers in the lake turn red. He played his song every night, one of love and loss and mourning, in hopes that one day another would come down to the water and be with him forever.

I shuddered, casting my gaze across the cave. In the shadows was the figure of a man, and in the corners, lying in beds of flowers with seaweed in their hair, were the bodies of women who had come down to the water. All of them were perfectly preserved, even though time should’ve turned them to dust.

The figure moved, and I gripped my blade, ready to strike. But as the n?kken came out from the shadows, I found myself lowering my weapon. His clothes, once beautiful and elaborate, were ripped to shreds, his long coat tattered and frayed. He watched me silently, gazing with sad eyes the color of pond scum. His skin was mottled green and black. He brought his violin to his side as he came forward, slowly, carefully, as if the slightest movement would scare me away.

“You have heard my song?” he asked, his voice low and mournful, with a slight pinch of hope mixed in.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “But not why I came.” I had to word the next part carefully, as not to offend this powerful creature with sadness in his eyes. “I come to ask for a favor, and in return, I will give one to you.”

The n?kken sighed, and lines of sadness creased his face as he looked back at the bodies of his loves, then at me. “You’ve felt sadness too,” he whispered. “Ours would not be a happy love.”

I doubted many of his loves were happy, but I wasn’t about to say so.

“I need your help,” I said. “Something only you can do.”

His eyebrows rose. “Pray tell, but if I can do it, there will be a price. There always is a price. I keep my word, but you must keep yours. She did not, but I always did.” He caressed the flowerlike stones surrounding us. “They’ve turned to stone, it was so long ago, but my heart, it aches as if it were just this morn.”

“I’ll keep my word,” I said, swallowing at the thought of what this creature might want me to do. “But you need to help me.”

“What do you wish for?” he asked.

“My … someone I care about, deeply, has been poisoned by lindworm venom. He doesn’t have long left. I need an antidote; I need to save him.” The desperation in my voice was palpable. Just a few decades ago I’d have been glad to see Soren burn. Out of pettiness if nothing else. Now I was begging deadly magical strangers for help to keep him alive. What a change.

The n?kken nodded. “He is not human, like you, is he? If he was, he’d be dead already.”

I bit my lip. “He is goblin.”

The hint of a sad, sad smile played on the n?kken’s lips. “Then I suppose I am not the only one with unlucky loves. I will help you for a price.”

“What is it?” I braced myself; whatever it was, I could do it.

“You have such sadness in your eyes, child,” he mused. “Sing me a song to play in the caverns. Maybe it will give me luck.”

I blinked, taken aback. A song? He wanted me to sing a song?

“I—I can’t do that,” I stuttered. “I’m not, I don’t have any material or ideas or—”

The n?kken chuckled softly. “Oh, I think you do. That is my price, a song from your heart. That or your love dies and maybe you can stay here with me.”





14


NEEDLESS/WANTLESS


I SEETHED WITH rage. Sing him a song? Anything remotely songlike was ripped from my lips the moment my village turned to ash. No lullaby, hunting tune, or ballad survived the destruction. Sing him a song. He might as well have asked me to lasso a star.