Wintersong(52)

“Liesl.”

Behind the strained voice, I heard her. My real sister, behind the enchantment. I faltered.

My sister seized my hand. “No, don’t,” she said. “Keep singing. Keep going.”

I stopped playing with Käthe’s hair. I took up the lullaby once more, substituting the lyrics with a wordless ooh as I tried to figure out what to do next.

Are you here, Käthe, my love, my dear?

The question fit awkwardly into the lullaby’s rhythm and beat, but it seemed to be the best way to speak with her without breaking the music.

“Yes, I’m here,” she said, struggling. “Your music … it helps keep the fog away.”

We must flee, we must fly, your bridegroom awaits to take his prize.

“My bridegroom?” Her blue eyes clouded and I silently cursed myself for slipping in my own spell that I tried to weave about her.

No matter, no worries, come with me; let’s hurry!

“Hurry,” she repeated. Her eyes roamed the barrow chamber, as though seeing it for what it was for the first time. “Yes, we must hurry.”

Are you well, are you hale? You are so weak, you are so pale.

“Yes.” She nodded stiffly. Then, almost as if by strength of will, color returned to her face, and her blue eyes were hard with determination. “I am.”

Then follow me, my sweet, follow me.

Käthe nodded again.

“I’m coming, Liesl,” she said faintly. “I will follow.”





STRANGE, SWEET

I wasted no time. Once I got Käthe out of bed, I dressed us both in the most practical gowns I could find. I had nothing with me, not even my rudimentary and contradictory map of the Underground. But the time for planning was past. Whether or not we got lost mattered little now; time had run out. So, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, I strove to lead my sister away.

My voice was already growing hoarse. I could not sing forever; I needed some other way to keep my sister under my spell.

When the idea came to me, I almost dropped my song within a laugh. My flute. The gift of the tall, elegant stranger. I had played it into his lair; I would play it out.

I wish, I wish, for anyone near

To bring me my flute, quick!

Bring it to me here.

Within the twinkling of an eye, Twig and Thistle appeared before me. Thistle seemed irritated by the summons, but Twig seemed amused. The tall, spindly goblin offered me the instrument with an almost reverent look on her face.

Thank you, my friend

My thanks to you.

Please help me find my way

Out of this tomb?

I could not figure how to work I wish into my improvised song, which grew more tuneless and shapeless by the measure.

“There is no way out, mortal,” Thistle said. “It is futile to try.”

I shook my head, still humming a wordless tune. I turned to Käthe, whose drawn face was pale and sheened with cold sweat.

“I’m here,” she said in that strained, distant voice of hers. “I’m still here.”

Twig gazed at me with those flat, inhuman, unreadable eyes. I wanted to read kindness into them. “Know this, mortal,” she said. “All paths lead to the beginning and to the end in the Underground. It is for you to find which is which. Stay true; be swift. Remember, what the old laws giveth, they also taketh. It will not be easy for you to escape.”

“She will fail,” Thistle sneered. “No mortal on earth has the power to upset the ancient balance.” She bared her teeth in a ghoulish grin. “Good luck. You will need it.”

I ignored Thistle, and nodded my thanks to Twig. Both goblin girls faded away.

Talk to me, darling, I sang to Käthe, Stay with me. Sing!

Then I placed the flute to my lips.



The Underground was a labyrinth. I followed corridors that led upward, corridors that doubled back on themselves, corridors that disappeared into a wall. I could not hold Käthe’s hand as I played the flute, but she tied herself to my apron strings. Every time she faltered, I played something from our childhood. A canon. A skipping song. A silly little nonsense ditty.

“You’ll never win, you know.”

Ahead of me, wreathed by shadow and torchlight, stood the Goblin King. He wore the hood and cloak he had when I first met him in the marketplace, when he was just a tall, elegant, and mysterious stranger.

I stopped in my tracks. Käthe tripped into me.

“What is it?” she wobbled. “Are you all right?”

I stared at the Goblin King, but Käthe’s eyes darted about, blind to his slender form blocking our path. He raised one side of his mouth in a smirk and brought a gloved finger to his lips. Shhh.

A breeze picked up in the Underground, bitter and cold, bringing with it the tantalizing scent of the world above: leaves, loam, ice, and freedom. My sister pressed against me and I could feel her trembling against my back. The wind darted about us like a little sprite, tugging at our hair, our skirts, our blouses, playful and mischievous.