The goblin's curse
( Scions of Shadow - 3 )
Gillian Summers
Gillian Summers
The goblin's curse
One
The Colorado night air smelled dry and spicy as Keelie Heartwood picked her way up the twisty, unlit dirt path toward Heartwood, her father’s furniture shop. It perched at the top of the hill, with a good view of the jousting field below. She felt like she was coming home.
“Ow, Cricket.” She tugged on her T-shirt to dislodge her pet goblin’s tiny claws, which were digging into her shoulders.
The quaint, medieval-looking cottages and tall, sprawling structures she passed were shuttered and quiet-the High Mountain Renaissance Faire was closed until the weekend and many shops were empty, their owners gone to buy supplies or visit friends in Fort Collins. But the shops that served as seasonal homes for the shopkeepers showed signs of life, their upstairs windows glowing golden against the starry night sky. It was lovely. And on the other side of the faire, the night was filled with flickers of light and bursts of song from the distant campground.
Still, Keelie thought the grounds were a little spooky at night. It didn’t help that some of the shops were painted in fantastical colors, or adorned with dragons and unicorns and cartoon fairies. Fairies that looked like tiny people with wings, that is… Keelie knew the real ones looked very different.
Crickets called out in the shrubbery that bordered one side of the path, and the slight weight between her shoulder blades chirped metallically in response. “Friends of yours?” Keelie asked. No answer, but she hadn’t expected one.
She’d come this way almost a year ago, following a fast-walking attorney from her mother’s law firm. She’d been grieving and angry at her mother’s sudden death, adrift and about to be delivered into the hands of a man she didn’t know. She’d sworn never to call him Dad, but he’d won her heart.
The fact that he wasn’t human had little to do with it.
As she turned the last bend of the path, her heart clenched at the sight of Heartwood across the wide, moonlit clearing. A medieval-looking two-story building, with an open-air furniture showroom downstairs and her father’s apartment upstairs, the shop had been Dad’s home at this faire for years, and now it was Keelie’s as well. A sturdy, narrow staircase on one side climbed up to their apartment. Keelie headed toward it, glancing at the shops on either side of the clearing.
A light glowed from the shop on her left. Last summer, it had been a costume shop called Galadriel’s Closet, but since then the building had been totally transformed. Now it was an open structure with a two-story, stacked-stone chimney jutting above a metal roof, with a shed at the rear. Tools hung from iron hooks all around, and a huge pile of coal gleamed blackly in the moonlight. It seemed to be a forge, which was strange, since there was already a forge down by the jousting ring where the horses could be easily taken to be shod. On Heartwood’s other side was the mask shop, with a new name to complement its new location. A few weather-proof masks hung outside, disturbingly reminding Keelie of ones she’d recently seen.
With a shrug, she skirted Heartwood’s flagstone floor and started up the stairs to the apartment. She lifted the ribbon with the key and squinted at the door, wishing she’d brought a flashlight. She finally stuck a finger over the keyhole, then guided the key to its rightful spot by following her finger with her other hand. With a click of its well-oiled lock, the door swung open.
Immediately, the weight on her back vanished and a small black shadow fell to the floor, moving quickly and silently into the room.
Keelie lit a candle with matches that were kept by the door and walked toward the kitchen. The apartment was one large area, divided into rooms by cloth hangings and wall screens. Dad had made her a bedroom in one corner, with a window that overlooked the jousting ring far below. She opened the closest window, then crossed the room to open another. The temperature was starting to drop, but the breeze would help banish the stale and dusty smells that had built up in the closed space during the weeks that Dad was with her in the Northwoods.
The dark shadow that had been on her shoulders now leaped onto the windowsill and stared out into the darkness, its body shiny black like an insect’s. It turned its big yellow eyes to her and chirped.
“That’s the faire. Stay out of sight, okay? Most folks can’t see you, but if they do, they’ll freak out. Goblins aren’t much loved among the elves.”
The little goblin ran back to her and climbed her leg.
“Watch the claws,” Keelie hissed. “I swear, you’re worse than a kitten.”
Cricket stopped at her shoulder, his usual perch, a hank of her hair snagged tightly in his little clawed hand.
Dad didn’t like the goblin. Who could blame him? After all, he’d recently worn armor for the first time in a hundred years because of goblinkind. But the little guy was a gift to Keelie from Herne the Hunter himself, and she could hardly refuse him. Besides, Cricket was handy to have around since he subsisted on garbage.
Keelie placed her candle on the tiny counter in the kitchen area, then put another on the small square dining table. Dad had told her to run the water for a bit to warm it up, so she opened the tap in the little kitchen sink, then the one in the huge claw-foot tub in the curtain-enclosed bathroom.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside and Keelie called out, “Dad?”
A grunt answered her, and she looked out cautiously from behind the bathroom curtains. Dad was bent over, carrying a huge trunk. Her clothes. She ran to help.
“Are you smuggling trees from the Northwoods?” he gasped. He dropped the trunk and fell on it, winded.
“Of course not, silly. They would have talked to you if I had.”
“True.” As a tree shepherd and Lord of the Dread Forest, their elven home in the Oregon woodlands, Dad spoke to trees all the time. The elves had been surprised and unhappy to discover that even though she was part human, Keelie was also a tree shepherd. Of course, the whole elves-are-real thing had been a shocker for Keelie. Mom had never said a word about it. She had kept lots of other secrets, too.
“I’m going to make one more trip, and then I’m done for the night. Leave the candle on the table and blow the others out.” Dad kissed Keelie on the forehead, careful to stay away from the goblin. “I love you, daughter. Get some sleep.”
“I was hoping to catch a bite to eat with Sean at the Poacher’s Inn. Want to come?”
“No thanks. I’m going to talk with Davey, but stop by Janice’s shop. Raven is here.”
Janice ran Green Lady Herbs, and Keelie had met her last summer. Janice and Dad dated sometimes, which Keelie found very creepy even though she knew it was natural. Raven was Janice’s daughter and Keelie’s friend. They’d only been able to exchange emails over the past year, since, when Raven joined her mother at the Wildewood Faire in New York, she’d stayed there-permanently. It’s not every day a girl finds out she’s the intended mate of the Unicorn Lord of the Forest.
“I will definitely stop by and pick up Raven.” Happiness surged through Keelie at the thought of having a friend here. She hadn’t realized how much she missed female companionship.
Keelie suddenly felt the need to hug Dad and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing. He didn’t seem surprised, and he held her for a long moment.
“Missing your mom?” he said softly.
“Yes. But I’m okay, really. It’s just being back here.” She waved her arms around to include the room, the faire outside, all of Colorado.
“I figured. Hey, your overnight bag is in the trunk. I didn’t want to balance it on top.” He turned and walked to the door.
“Say hello to Sir Davey for me. I’ll see him
tomorrow.” Keelie smiled and waved him off. Sir Davey was her father’s best friend, and one of hers too. At three feet tall, Sir Davey was as diminutive as he was handsome, and a master swordsman as well as a geological expert. And, as one of the ancient race of dwarves, he was an expert wielder of Earth magic.
“You bet.” Dad closed the door behind him and went downstairs humming an Irish tune, probably one that had been playing in the campground.
As she turned off the water in the big tub (still cold), Keelie wished she could grab a hot shower in Sir Davey’s RV. She was heading toward the kitchen to shut off the water there, too, when a pebble hit her arm. “Ow!”
“Sorry,” a voice called up from the clearing below. “Thought the window was closed. Can I come up?”
She went to the window, still rubbing her arm, and her eyes met the rueful gaze of a tall, wide-shouldered boy with blond surfer looks that seemed out of place in this medieval fairy-tale land. But he belonged here, more than she did in the opinion of some. A full-blooded elf, Sean o’ the Wood was the head of the Silver Bough Jousters. Better yet, he was Keelie’s boyfriend.
“Dad’s gone back to the campground. I’ll come down.” Keelie didn’t have a problem asking Sean up, but Ren Faire gossip was worse than the gossip in small towns.
She put Cricket on the ground, skipped down the wooden steps, and flung herself into Sean’s arms. He held her off the ground and kissed her deeply before setting her on her feet again.
“Ready to go? I’m starved.”
“Raven’s here. Can we stop by Janice’s to see if she wants to join us?”
“Sure. Raven is fun.”
They held hands as they crossed the clearing. Keelie felt flushed and happy to be with Sean. Their relationship had been rocky at times, but she’d recently discovered an answer to a troubling question about her future, so she felt that nothing could come between them now.
Okay, so she was sixteen, and though Sean looked about nineteen, he was actually eighty-six. But he’d looked like this for most of his very long life, and, as Keelie had found out on her recent trip to the Northwoods, she too would live an elven lifespan-six or seven hundred years. With that much time ahead of her, there was no rush to do anything.
At the Green Lady Herb shop, light glimmered from the windows in back. Keelie and Sean walked around to where a small stone patio held two chairs and a worn bistro table. Potted plants were everywhere, and the stimulating green smell of the growing herbs energized Keelie. She knocked on the back door as Sean hung back to avoid crowding the little space.
Janice opened the door, brows raised in inquiry, then immediately grinned.
“Keelie! Oh, honey, you’ve grown.”
Keelie hugged her. “Thanks.” Why did adults always say that? She hadn’t gotten any taller.
A whoop sounded from the dim interior and Raven appeared, black curls twining over her shoulders, skin glowing pale.
“Keelie!” She pulled Keelie from her mother’s arms and they danced a fast whirl of welcome that spun them out the door and onto the patio.
“And Sean!” Raven grinned at him. “I hear you went on a heroic mission to the North Pole.”
“Not that far north,” Sean admitted. “But close.”
Raven hooked an arm around Keelie’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much. Hubby fills me in on all of your adventures. Giant trees, goblins, the fairy High Court. You don’t rest, do you?”
Keelie shrugged. “If I stop, Lord Elianard stacks the homework even higher-may as well stay busy,” she joked. “It was kind of scary at times, though.”
Raven’s smile faded. “I’ll bet.” Elianard’s name had probably reminded her of his attempt to steal the horn of the Wildewood unicorn, now her husband. “How is old Elianard, anyway? I noticed that his snooty daughter isn’t lording it over the girls in the court this year.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Lady Elia is close to term, expecting her first child.” Keelie heard the note of wonder in his voice. Births were rare among the elves, who considered themselves a dying race, but Elia had gotten pregnant right after her marriage, giving elves all over the world hope for their future.
“Fab.” Raven didn’t seem excited at the thought of a mini Elia. “Want to come in and sit down? Cramped quarters, but I can put the kettle on for tea.”
“We’re headed to the Poacher’s Inn for dinner and thought you might want to come along,” Keelie said.
She hadn’t finished speaking the words before Raven vanished inside, returning with a black denim jacket. “Headed to the inn for dinner, Mom,” she called. “Bring you back something?”
Janice’s voice drifted back from the front of the store. “No thanks, hon. Be careful.”
Raven closed the door. “Mom’s been getting a strange vibe from your new neighbor. Have you met Hob?”
“Not yet. We just got here.”
“Hob the Hottie we call him.” Raven laughed as Sean growled at her words.
The three friends swapped stories as they headed toward the Poacher’s Inn, which sat on the shores of a little lake used for pirate battles. Its broad decks provided a great view of the watery hilarity. At this hour, the boats were tied up, oars in racks, and fiddle music wafted through the air, adding extra sparkle to the golden glow from the inn’s windows.
Except for crickets and the neighs of horses from Equus Island, where the elven stables were, the music was the only sound tonight.
Keelie cherished this quiet moment, walking with friends, the sounds of the night around her. It was peaceful, and she hadn’t had much peace lately.
Sean pulled open the door to the inn and all peace vanished in a blast of rowdy laughter, drums, and bagpipes. The fiddle they’d heard must have been somewhere on the faire grounds, because it would have been inaudible in this racket.
Keelie and Raven shared a grin and waded into the crowd of Rennie revelers. A curving sweep of bar had been added along the wall facing the lake, and it was full, as were the tables that filled the floor space.
“I’ll find us a table.” Sean had to almost shout to be heard over the din of voices and music.
Raven dragged Keelie to a table where a group of girls were laughing as one of them tried to meld belly dance with a Highland fling.
“Guys, do you know Keelie Heartwood?”
The girls turned to them with smiles and Raven introduced them. The three closest were Marcia, Lily, and Tracy.
“Fairies,” Raven said, rolling her eyes.
The three giggled.
“Wait till you see our wings. Glittery,” Tracy said. “I play Lavender Lollipop.”
Keelie thanked the Great Sylvus that she’d never had to don wispy costumes and glittery face paint and pretend to be a fairy, though the girls seemed proud of their jobs at the faire.
“Your cat’s here,” Raven shouted in her ear. She pointed toward the bar, where a fat yellow tail hung down. The rest of Knot was obscured by a blond giant with long dreds and iridescent dragons tattooed on his mighty arm muscles.
“Who is that?”
Raven gave her a playful shove with her shoulder. “Vangar, your other new neighbor.” She licked her lips. “If I weren’t married… ” Then she laughed. “Just kidding.”
Vangar. A guy that big could not work in the mask shop, and those giant muscles seemed likely to be the result of much hammer-wielding, so he must own the forge. Keelie congratulated herself on her brilliant deduction.
“Your other new neighbor, if you can drag your eyes away from mighty Thor, is Hob the Hottie, the mask maker. He’s over there with his fan-tourage.”
A dark-haired, handsome man was speaking to a group of women who seemed to be enchanted by his words. This was the guy that gave Janice a “strange vibe”? He seemed pretty normal.
“Add your dad to the mix, and your hill is the place to be. You can look forward to lots of low-cut bodices and hip-waggling action in front of Heartwood,” Raven said, laughing, no doubt at the dismay Keelie w
as sure was plastered on her face.
Sean waved his arms and Keelie led the way to a table by the bar. From here she had a great view of Knot, who was listening intently to Vangar, a shot glass of golden liquid in front of him.
“Does your cat drink Scotch?” Sean’s tone implied that he’d believe it.
“Oh no. Strictly mead.” Keelie watched as the bartender poured more of the thick, sweet liquid into Knot’s and Vangar’s glasses. Vangar touched his glass to Knot’s and the two drank.
Keelie wondered what Knot’s toast would be. “To many mice,” perhaps, or “Capture a bhata and shred it for luck.” He didn’t get along with the little sticklike fairies. Luckily, unlike mice, the bhata could rebuild their bodies out of found materials.
A platter mounded with grilled chicken, vegetables, and brown rice appeared on the table and the three of them dug in, enjoying the antics of their fellow faire workers. Performers of all types took turns on the tiny stage, playing everything from fiddles and Celtic harps to spoons and buckets.
At midnight the cook chased everyone out, claiming that whoever stayed had to clean up for the next day. Keelie found herself on the road again, arm around Sean’s waist, as Raven told them about life with a husband who turned into a unicorn part-time. It reminded Keelie that Raven had some fairy blood, and she might need to use any skills that came with that.
“Would you like to come to the meadow with me tomorrow morning?” she asked.
“Sure,” Raven said. She had her head thrown back and was staring at the stars as she walked. “What time? And why?”
“After breakfast. And why-well, because of the goblin blood that was shed there.” She didn’t add, because I killed a Red Cap. Raven knew.
“So you want to see if the taint is still there, in the soil?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it’s safe to go there?” Sean’s smile had vanished.
“Probably. It’s the tree I planted that I’m worried about.”
Raven pushed back her black curls. “Okay, sure. Come by the shop and get me.”
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