Goblin Star by David A. Gray

GOBLIN STAR

By David A. Gray

The broad-backed young man stumbled along, arguing with the goblins in his head. His hair was damp with sweat despite the morning coolness. A finely tooled crossbow bounced on his back.

“Get out,” he mumbled. “I refuse you!”

The youth paused. He peered up past pan-tiled roofs, eyes fixing on a glittering point, and touched two trembling fingers to the center of his forehead before pressing on, finally lurching into the village square. He stopped at the parapet around the town well, scattering chickens. Two lean, silver-haired men in skillfully tailored clothes nodded and touched their own foreheads.

“Is that the little people trying to push you out of your own head again, Tam?”

Tam considered not replying to the old woman sitting opposite, because sure as the sun rose on Emain Ablach every day, Meg would repeat everything to the whole village. But the loudest goblin was yammering in its strange language and sending horrific mental images.

“Aye, Meg, three, talking in tongues, and fighting like cats in a sack. The worst of them wants me to fell you, so it can possess your old carcass!”

The old woman guffawed.

“I wish it’d try, boy,” Meg said, “but it’s only the most sensitive of you young ones that they have a chance with. Us olders, our minds are too rigid. Mostly, we can’t feel them, and they can’t feel us. That one must be strong or a liar or both. But I’d be grateful if you don’t try the striking down part, all the same.”

“I won’t, Meg, I promise,” Tam said, rubbing his eyes. “Is it always like this?”

Meg nodded, her gray-green eyes glittering. “It’s the same every eleven-year. When the Goblin Star is in the sky, the little people come looking for bodies to steal, so they can escape it.”

“Tam, come away from that old gossip, why don’t you?”

Tam managed a weak smile when he saw Orla striding towards him with a basket full of purple berries. Her leather gloves and the front of her jacket were speckled the same

color as the fruit. She handed him three of the cloudberries, and Tam swallowed, ignoring the bitter taste. He mumbled thanks, and she handed him a palm-sized leather pouch.

“One every hour. No more or you’ll lose your sense of self, and… Well, at least you won’t feel anything.”

Tam grimaced.

“This year’s shaping up to be a bad one,” Orla added. Not a question. The apprentice herbalist wasn’t much of a one for the manners that the estate and castle staff had drummed into them from the time they could speak. “Smithy Ferguson is suffering the same as are the Murphy twins.”

“I know that well,” Tam said ruefully. “We’re all bedding down in the harvesters’ bunkhouse, staying awake all night thanks to that tea you make.”

“Don’t get used to it. It’s only for serious cases, and once the star passes, you won’t be tasting it again unless you go through childbirth.”

Old Meg slapped her leg in mirth. “What about it, lad, are you up for having babies with Orla when she’s old enough to marry? I’m sure she has a herb that would let you carry the child!”

Tam flushed, then doubled over as a cacophony of voices started in his head. A ripple of calm washed through them as the berries kicked in. He felt a dulling of the empathy that was a fact of life on Emain Ablach.

When he opened his eyes, Orla and Meg were looking at him with concern. He had to rely on words, now, and the nuances of facial expression, denied the ebb and flow of intent and emotion. It wasn’t pleasant.

“There’s a flask man coming from Dunedin,” Meg said. “He can take the worst of them out of your head.”

Orla let out a breath. “That’s good. The goblins will peak in the next three-day, won’t they, Meg?”

“That they will. Then they’ll be gone for eleven years.”

A distant sound carried on the breeze. Hooves and the jingle of tack. Tam reached out with his mind and was surprised at the paucity of information, then remembered the cloudberries.

The doors to the town hall burst open, and Finn strode out. The mayor, while no youngling, was lithe and strong like everyone in castle lands. He caught sight of the three and came over, scowling. That accentuated the scars that ran down his face. Selfinflicted, from when the little people had come for him fifty-five years ago. A badge of honor.

“Tam, can you contain them and stand? The militia are here—there’s a possessed on the castle lands, and we need someone who knows their way around.”

“Who have they taken?” Meg demanded.

“Not one of ours. A courtier from Annwyn. A goblin possessed the lad and had him bludgeon a constable. He’s been heading here in a straight line, leaving a trail of bodies and some new possessed.”

“Why here?” Orla asked.

“Who knows why the little people do things? He’ll be looking for somewhere he can hide. It’s his bad luck that we folks in the northern estates talk to one another. There’s tales that in the southlands whole duchies are infested and no neighbors know.”

Meg scoffed. “If neighbors don’t know, then how do you? Fairy tales, Finn.”

Before Finn could reply, the cobbles rang with steel, and the militia arrived. They numbered a dozen on dun-colored horses. They had leather armor, short swords at their waists, spears holstered on saddles, and curved bows across their backs. They were led by a woman of middle years with the ubiquitous freckles, reddish hair, and green eyes. “Sheriff Magna,” she said curtly, nodding to the small group. Casting a critical eye on Tam, she stated, “You must be the hunter. You sure you’re up to this?”

“Yes.”

The sheriff shrugged. “You know we won’t be able to nurse you if a goblin gets in while we’re riding...”

Tam nodded, and Magna softened a fraction: “We’ve a quarter of the squad off duty with the same as you’re going through right when we need them the most. Difference is, they said they couldn’t ride. If you survive this, I’m going to use you as an example of the spirit that we need. Might even find a place for you.”

Finn raised his voice, “No recruiting from my estate servants!”

Magna quirked an eyebrow. “There’s some as say no man or woman on Emain Ablach should be called ‘servant.’”

“It’s what we are, what we’ve always been,” the mayor muttered, growing red.

“Even when there’s never been any masters to serve?” Orla fired back, smiling to take the sting out of it.

Finn relaxed a little. “No, especially when the Lords and Ladies could be arriving any day. Our ancestors didn’t shape this world for them for us to get ideas.”

“Not so sure we owe them much,” Meg said unexpectedly. They all turned to look at her. “What do you know about me?” she asked, spearing Mayor Finn with a look. “What did I do with my life?”

“You did what every servant on Emain Ablach must do: you carried out your duty well and with honor.”

“My duty! I was a chambermaid, Finn! I wanted to explore the mysteries of our world, to adventure, but instead I spent 70 years tending rooms that were never occupied, making beds no-one slept in, and learning to bow to people I never met.”

“Now, Meg, we all do our duty as it was passed on from our parents and theirs before them all the way back to when we were sent here to prepare Emain Ablach for the Lords and Ladies.”

“And some of us never question that, do we, Finn?”

Sheriff Magna cut them off with a raised hand. “We can debate when the star passes,” she warned. “Until then, we stay alert.”

Magna pointed at a spare horse for Tam who pulled himself up with care. Hunters and other land staff were required to be able to ride, but militia steeds were feistier than the ponies he was used to.

He saw the sheriff watching and straightened. She signaled to move out. The militia rode in pairs, speeding to a trot then to a canter as the cobbled road meandered through neat fields, crossing streams on elegant stone arches. Tam’s great-greatgrandfather had been a stonemason, helping complete the roads that crisscrossed castle lands and linked with other great estates. Tam had grown up with the tales of gods who’d helped cut and polish millions of tons of stone, raising palaces, castles, and fabulous towers.

Magna slowed twice to ask him for directions, and let smaller contingents join, swelling their number to a score. Tam felt better, the combination of berries and open country bolstering his resistance to the goblins—but he could still hear them.

The road split, and the riders took the north fork, up around and above the castle, towards the forest. Tam was gazing back at the distant lawns when one of the new arrivals fell in beside him. Tam recognized the man as one of the village boys who’d been recruited by the sheriff these past five years. Merk was born in one of the Blessed Years—too young to be target when the goblins last came, too old to be vulnerable this time.

“Tam! Stay strong!” “Can you hear them, Merk?”

“They sound weak and far away to me, but there’s a ... thing ... in the militia where if you’ve not fought off goblins, you’re weak. I’m glad a possessed came our way. It gives me a chance to prove myself.”

He grinned ruefully, and Tam changed the subject. “Have you heard people question the way of things, Merk? Meg said…”

“I hear lots of questions, and no answers. If any of us could read the old language, things might be different, maybe someone smart like Orla could sneak into the Library, learn something that’s not just about the day-to-day. But we can’t.”

Tam searched for the right words: “It’s just that nobody seems curious about why we’re here.”

Merk smiled. “Most people aren’t curious or rebellious, Tam. I reckon it’s just in our natures.”

“Well Iam.”

“And you best watch that doesn’t get you into trouble. If you want to know what I think, it’s that the Lords and Ladies didn’t know goblins plagued this place, and when they found out, they decided to go elsewhere.”

Tam changed tack. “So, the possessed. How dangerous is he?”

“Less dangerous than the person whose body he stole the sheriff says. For the first few days, a possessed has few of the memories or skills of the person they displaced. It’s why they can’t talk. And that’s mercy as their words are said to have the ability to command.”

Tam fought back an assault from his goblins that made his vision blur. The berries were fading, but he was wary of taking more and dulling his perception. He groaned.

Magna heard and shouted back, “You need to learn not just to be picking up what other people are giving you, but… Let me show you…”

Tam felt an extra pressure in his head. But this one was gentle unlike the goblins. Tam felt Magna looking out of his eyes for a moment. Then the sheriff was cursing, and he was left with the goblins.

“Lad, these are bad ones!” she said. “My apologies for the intrusion. But once clear, you and I will talk.”

She upped the pace, and the riders streamed along behind her.

The party reined in at the base of a hill, and Magna and half of the party continued on foot to the top. A few sheep glared before ceding the high ground, and bees and razorwings performed aerobatics. Tam knew the spot. According to the stories, the domed mound contained the giant tools the gods had used to shape Emain Ablach. Tam thought that unlikely, but the top commanded views of the estates, across the river to the distant escarpment that marked the eastern edge of the fiefdom. To the west, farmland and clumps of blue-green feather trees mixed in with oak and redwood. He often came here to read the movement of the flying things and get a sense of the weather.

“Why here?” he asked the sheriff.

“How do you think we might find a lone man in all this country, Tam? We have scouts out, and trackers followed him to the edge of the castle lands, but after that …” Magna shrugged. “We need to use more specialized ways.”

At that, she, Merk and three of the militia sat down, and blank expressions stole over their faces. Tam could sense Magna’s presence like a breeze, and Merk’s strong

thoughts. At that light pressure, he felt his chief tormentor go berserk. He took himself downslope, away from the sheriff and her sensitives. His own goblins were fighting among themselves, the words lost to Tam, but their desperation so intense he could hardly stand it. The weakest was pleading with the strongest. The struggle intensified until the strongest gave a push so great that Tam thought his skull might split and the other was gone.

“Don’t just react, lad. Take the fight to them,” Magna called down. Tam looked up and saw the party picking their way down. “What do you mean,” he asked weakly.

“Push back. Like when I was in your mind, but not so light. Dig into them. Try to get into their heads. It’s impossible, of course, but attempting it puts them on the defensive.”

“I’ll try. Are we finished here?”

“We picked up the mental taint of the possessed, headed past the forest, towards the back of the castle.”

Tam frowned. “If he’s not from here he won’t know to go around the maze. Anyone approaching the castle from the back thinks they see a path, but it’s an illusion. You can wander in there for weeks.”

“Can we leave him and seal the exits?” a militia woman asked. “There will be workers in there,” Tam offered. “Never less than a dozen.” Magna clicked her tongue. “If he runs into them and they’re ripe, that’s more hosts.”

“There’s only one other way out, so if you send people around, we can maybe ambush him there,” Merk offered. “Unless there’s any secret ways?”

“We train to stage hunts in there, and there are the two main gates, plus a staging area on the west, and a rescue gate on the east.”

The maze was three miles away, and Magna soon had them at a gallop. Tam could ride, but the others seemed to flow along while his progress was clumsy. He came close to falling when the horses and riders followed Merk off the path, up a slope and over the hedge at the top.

The towers of the castle were a mile away. In between, a leafy cliff curved to both sides. An arch of branches suggested an inviting path. They came to a halt.

The sheriff dispatched militia to left and right.

“Lead us in,” she directed Tam. “We’ll try and get a sense of him, but you need to show us the path. If you face him, don’t hesitate to use that fancy toy you have on your back.”

Tam nodded, feeling the goblins in his head skitter. He concentrated, tried to do what Magna had directed, focused on the smaller one, and for a moment, felt

something. Heard something. A metallic pounding. A chorus of voices. Then the link broke, and he was back on his horse. Merk was looking at him.

“Tam, I was just saying to the sheriff, can the horses come in?” “Yes. But closer to the center, we may need to dismount. It narrows a lot.”

Magna made a face. “Be ready. Merk, you stay in the middle, focus on the possessed.”

Silence reigned inside the maze. The hedges were a dozen times the height of a person, and the entwined bushes presented a wall of dense dark green vines.

This close to the edge, the passages were wide enough for two horses. The grass was cropped and soft, hardly a fallen leaf marring the perfection. Here and there were rabbit droppings already being carried off by a species of ants found only in castle gardens.

They didn’t need a mental fix. Several of the militia were first-rate trackers and the grass was pressed flat where someone running had stopped and turned occasionally. After a while, these grew were fainter as if their quarry was taking more care. There was something, Tam knew, about the depths of the maze, where even the most boisterous person tended to feel cowed, then nervous. Finally, you would stick to the sides, brushing against the hedge for comfort. Not this possessed, though; the man was moving dead center. And with no false turns. Tam told Magna who turned in her saddle.

“Maybe there are maps after all.”

The corridors narrowed. Even the militia seemed edgy, their horses snickering as they went single file. Tam paid scant attention. His chief tormentor was trying to use his voice to shout something. He came close to being unseated when the column halted in front of a moss-covered statue. If the stone-carved beast had ever existed on Emain Ablach, no one could recall when or what it was called. The dominant predators were long feathered reptiles that were half as long again as this proud, big-maned creature.

Tam held his breath, waiting for Mark and Magna to confirm the possessed’s position. He knew before they did so that the direction they’d indicate was the farthest of the four corridor before them. Each corridor was identical in appearance, but the fourth led to the heart of the labyrinth. Tam said as much.

“What’s in the center?” asked Magna. “Just a pond,” Tam said. “Tether the horses,” Magna said. “They’ll be a hindrance in this press.”

The militia heard the screams before they arrived at the maze’s heart. Six bodies were scattered around the edge of a circular pool with a statue in the center, gardening tools abandoned. Abruptly, one of the six bodies staggered to its feet. He was a solid man, bleeding from the head. His stance was odd, and he snarled and fled, stumbling through the nearest exit into the maze.

“The possessed!” Magna shouted. “Bring him down!”

“That’s not the one we’re hunting!” Tam yelled. “He’s in estate clothes!”

“So this is a new possessed!” Magna grunted. “Gurty!” she turned to a stocky militia woman. “Take three troops and get him! The rest of you, focus!”

Tam felt a tickle in his head. “Nothing!” Magna swore after a few seconds. “Maybe he was wounded and passed out?” Merk suggested.

Magna looked around the heart of the maze—at the way they came in and the opposite one her militia had pursued the new possessed into. At the two other dark gateways.

“Divide into pairs,” she ordered, pointing. “One for each path!”

A few seconds later, the remaining half dozen soldiers looked around cautiously. The hedges had swallowed the others.

“Concentrate on the squads, now,” the sheriff ordered. “When they find one or the other, we need to move fast.”

Tam paced the clearing. He bent down by body of a gardener he had known and felt a breeze on his face. A dank smell filled his nostrils. A ripple was dying on the pond’s surface. And the statue in the center was angled off true. Not much, but he’d gazed at the green metal half-woman, half-fish so often that he knew every weathered curve. Now it felt wrong.

Tam walked to the edge, noticing a black wedge under one of the statue’s corners. He sidestepped until he was opposite the statue and dabbed at the water with his boot toe. Just under the surface was a stepping stone. A hidden way for workers to reach the statue and clean it, Tam assumed. He stepped out. There were six stones in all. Seconds later, he was looking down at the hand-wide gap. The slab was scraped clean of moss where the base had pivoted.

The flow of air was less than the little gust he’d felt earlier: something down there had been opened and closed again.

“Here!” Tam shouted, and Magna turned. “What you got?” she asked, striding to the edge. “And how come you’re not wet?”

Tam braced his shoulder against the statue’s base and pushed. The statue ground to the side.

“There,” Tam said, pointing to the start of the hidden steps.

“You said there wasn’t another way out,” Magna remarked as she stepped across the rocks Tam pointed to.

“We’ve never had guests in the maze, sheriff. It’s a fair bet that this tunnel goes to the castle.”

“We best get moving,” Magna said. “You know your way round in there, lad? Merk?”

Both men shook their heads.

Magna gripped her spear and descended into the dark. Merk, Tam, and the remaining two militia followed.

The passageway leveled out. The stone blocks that lined the narrow tunnel gave off a faint glow.

“One set of footprints,” Magna said as the party squelched through moss. “It’s our man.”

“Can’t sense him,” Merk said. “He must have put thick stone between him and us.” A while after, the tunnel began to slope up. Soon, they were at the foot of a staircase.

Without pause, Magna rushed up the stairs and through a trapdoor, catching the hatch before it had a chance to clatter on the floor.

Tam was last up. He had never been beyond the outer courtyard of the castle. The room wasn’t large, but the vaulted ceiling and the multi-hued light streaming down through colored glass slits impressed him.

“When you’re ready,” Magna said caustically, and Tam reddened and unslung his crossbow when he saw the others with lowered spears or notched bows. He cocked it, drew a steel-tipped bolt from the sling and nocked it, all quickly and silently, earning a nod of approval from the sheriff.

“Find him,” Magna murmured, and Merk closed his eyes.

“This way,” the sheriff ordered after several seconds, sprinting for the staircase at the end of the chamber. They raced through corridors lined with tapestries showing strange beasts and unfamiliar landscapes. Once, they ran through a hall bigger than the village square with tiered benches on two sides and two cloth-draped high chairs on a dais on one of the others. Tam had often imagined how it would feel to be in the castle, had thought it might be grand, but instead it felt dead.

“You willdeny them entry!”

The sudden voice boomed. They ran towards it, up a carpeted staircase. At the top, high doors were closing, being pushed from inside from inside by panicked castle staff. Merk hit one with a shoulder as Magna and the others bowled through.

Tam followed at a slower pace. All his life he had heard of the throne room. It was where the king and queen would rule. Those servants who were allowed in bragged of its magnificence. The reality was anti-climactic.

The throne room was vast with high windows from which golden light streamed onto a gleaming red stone floor to capture two silver chairs perfectly. But the gaping fireplace was unlit; the room devoid of joy. A clot of scared servants had retreated and were cowering before the throne. Before its occupant. Who didn’t look very Lordly.

The possessed was not from the castle lands. He was blond, and his clothes were ragged. Despite this, he lounged as if he belonged there: one leg thrown over the arm, head back, arrogant. Tam had a sick feeling in his gut while in his head the goblins howled.

Sheriff Magna wasted no time. She’d used the butt of her spear to fend off the servants, and now she reversed the grip, cocked her arm to throw it.

“Stop!” the possessed demanded in awkward commonspeak. Magna staggered, and inexplicably, didn’t cast the spear. Merk, too, froze. Then Tam felt his insides clench, his feet slow.

“Kneel, all of you! And be silent!” the figure demanded. Tam felt his demons try to seize control of his voice, knew they were trying to greet the man on the throne.

In front of him, Magna and Merk were dropping to their knees, weapons clattering to the floor.

“Goblin!” Magna hissed through gritted teeth, and the possessed giggled.

“‘Goblin?’ How dareyou! Who do you think made you so perfectly! Why do you think I ran this body all the way here to my throne room? Why do you think you are alive? I planned and designed allof this! Down to the smallest detail! I am your king!”

The figure on the throne looked around eagerly, fixed his eyes on Tam. “This vessel is better than my own wretched body, but you, you will be better still! I’ll give this secondrate shell to another. Come closer, boy!”

Tam tried to refuse, but his feet betrayed him. The possessed continued ranting.

“Oh, you’ll all obey. It’s what you were created for!” A confused look stole over the puffy face. “It wasn’t meant to take so long. There was an accident! The ship burned! It drifts, slowly dying, seldom close enough, and you have grown resistant.”

Tam felt as if he was drowning in his own head. The goblins were fighting to get the attention of the possessed on the throne. Tam clutched at the only option. He focused on the strongest attacker and pushed, hoping to distract it. He expected terrible resistance, but to his astonishment, fell through.

Tam was in a cramped gray tunnel. He could taste the chill metallic air. And he weighed less. Looking down, he saw he was spindly, clad in gray overalls. He’d become a goblin.

There were hundreds of grimy glass beds in rows, shaped like the clams. Half were open and empty. The walls were covered in windows, many blank but others depicting shifting scenes. One was of a great empty hall with frost-rimed machines of unknown purpose drifting through the air. Another showed tunnels, blackened and twisted.

Then he heard the voices, crashing like a wave. Tam knew his real body in the castle was not his to command, but that this one wouldrespond. He turned, and saw other goblins in the clam beds, was repulsed by their pallid, slack faces under hairless scalps.

He moved a thin hand to brush something from his face and felt a spiderweb that led to a helmet on his own head. The threads led to one of the windows. He stared at it, seeing what his real body was seeing back in the castle.

A voice behind him snapped, “You’re nearly in! You musttake the host body!”

Tam recoiled, slamming back into his own body. He was close to the throne, could see spittle flecking the lips of the possessed, but he couldn’t hear for the roaring in his ears. To his surprise, he was in control of his own body again. But even as he noted realized this, he regained some hearing, heard the man ranting, and felt his limbs grow sluggish.

With the last of his own volition, Tam raised his primed crossbow and fired. He couldn’t see if he’d aimed properly, and the possessed’s scream of “Stop!” was like a physical blow. Tam saw the floor rush up. Felt his nose break on the polished stone.

He managed to sit, ignoring the blood and pain. His bolt had struck the possessed, pinning him through a shoulder. The man’s mouth was gaping. Magna and Merk stalked forward, spears raised.

“You even utter one word, my ‘lord,’” Magna hissed, then turned as the doors opened. Twisting his head, Tam saw Mayor Finn and the flask man. The fellow was dressed in the dark clothes of the trade, and his coat clinked with glass tubes.

“We got one of your lords right here, Mayor,” said Magna with venom.

The words seemed to rouse the possessed, and he started rambling. Tam felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and saw the others stiffen, and Finn jump. Magna prodded him in the other shoulder with her spear, and he felt silent once more.

The flask man pulled a tube from his coat. The end was a metal cap, heavy and inset with crystals.

He touched some places around the cap, and it glowed faintly. At that, the possessed twitched and his eyes flew open. He tried to jerk away, squealing as the bolt in his shoulder prevented it.

“That’s an AI storage tube! You can’t use it on a person! There’s no way to communicate! You can’t put me in there!”

The flask man stepped close. “I am going to extract you, into this flask that the founders of my order were given by a god.”

“That was no god! She was a traitor! She sided with you, the vessels, instead of us!” The possessed tried to gather a breath, but the flask man began murmuring. Tam felt a stir in his own head.

There was a mental wrench and a shriek. The glass darkened, and the room was quiet. The flask man slid the tube into his coat.

“What do you do with them?” Magna asked. “We store them at the bottom a cold, dark lake, forever,” the man said simply.

As he turned to go, the sheriff looked Tam’s way. “How did you break that goblin’s spell, Tam?” she asked.

Tam thought hard before explaining, “The goblin let slip that the fabric of this place—of all the great houses—lets them command us. We need to seal every castle and palace. Forever.”

Finn protested, “Then Lords and Ladies will never be able to come!”

Again, Tam paused. “I think they’ve been trying to come for a long time,” he said. “But they’re not our betters.