The goblin's curse sos-3

by Gillian Summers

  “Consider me impressed,” Keelie said to Sir Davey, who was dusting dirt off of his hat. “The woman has a flare for theatrics, just like her mother.”

  “I agree.” A bronze dragon lowered his head in between Keelie and Sir Davey. Keelie saw her reflection in a yellow-gold eye with an iris slit like a goat’s.

  “Vangar?”

  “Yes,” he answered, his voice a deep, rich bass that conjured up warm evenings by a fire as soft music played in the background. If Vangar ever became a lounge singer, he’d have women throwing their underwear at him. The dragon body might be a PR problem, but his voice was like smoky velvet.

  “I knew all along we had dragons amongst us,” Thomas declared, oblivious to the skeptical looks that others threw his way. He pointed at Vangar. “I said there was a firebug, and there he is.”

  Vangar turned his massive bronze head toward Thomas, then lowered it until he could look the glassblower in the eye. “I thought we had established the fact that Hob was the firebug, not me.”

  Keelie’s opinion of Thomas had dropped fifty points in her personal opinion poll. Was he crazy? You didn’t call a dragon a firebug.

  Finch turned to Vangar. “I think it’s time to nip this rebellion in the bud and show these interlopers who’s the boss around here.”

  Vangar stretched out his wings. “After you, my dear.”

  Keelie motioned for everyone to move back. “Give them some room for takeoff. They’ll kick up a lot of dust.”

  Vangar and Finch both pumped their wings and ascended, two draconic air fliers, into the sky with elegance and muscular grace.

  Finch flamed the sky, a plume of fire erupting from her mouth.

  Keelie couldn’t help a smile. “Show-off,” she whispered.

  Everyone was transfixed by the dragon spectacle above them.

  Keelie was amazed that no one had run to hide in their shops, hopped into their vehicles, or run for the mountaintops when Finch and Vangar revealed themselves to be dragons. Maybe the faire’s fantasy ambiance had made them comfortable with any possibility.

  She’d been right. The humans needed to know what they were up against, and the people of the High Mountain Faire might just be able to hold their own against the goblins. Still, they needed help. She hoped Dad arrived soon with reinforcements.

  She nodded to Sir Davey. “You stay here and control the crowd. I have something to do.”

  She had to find the Compendium, and with the goblins trying to find a way through the magical shield, she had to act quickly. Keelie moved away from the crowd, looking for a place to work undisturbed.

  She held out the aspen branch and envisioned the book of elven household spells and charms. If this worked, the branch would lead her to the Compendium. She had to get this right, and fast.

  twenty-two

  Keelie held the image of the Compendium in her mind as she walked purposefully through the jostling crowd-some racing to their shops, preparing for battle-and stopped next to the art gallery near Galadriel’s Closet. Standing in the road in front of the booth, Keelie pointed Hrok’s branch to the east, west, north, and south. She recalled the Compendium’s elegant calligraphy and the numerous spells within it, including the hay-fever charm she thought she’d never use and the protection charm she’d cast over the Redwood Forest.

  If the book had developed a consciousness and wanted to find her, she wanted to open herself telepathically to help it.

  Here I am, she thought. Where are you, Peascod? Where did you go with my book?

  Keelie felt a tingle touch her mind. It wasn’t green, but a different kind of magic-something young and fresh.

  But it disappeared as soon as she tried to lock onto it.

  Then, nothing.

  Around her, the performers and shop owners ran through the streets, gathering swords and other weapons as Sir Davey bellowed out orders. The armory and forge had made their wares available, and Keelie was pleased to see able-bodied men and women arming themselves. It looked like a fantasy movie set as everyone rushed to and fro.

  Knot sat at her side. “Meow any luck?”

  Lowering the branch, Keelie shook her head. “What’s the status on the goblins?”

  “Meow skulking in parking lot, and at the front gate.”

  Keelie wondered what the normal people of Fort Collins would think if they drove by the faire and saw the goblins gathered in the parking lot. They’d probably think it was part of the show, until it was too late.

  In the sky above, the dragons attacked and hurled flames at the goblins. Their magic was now combined, as Finch and Vangar shared their power and strengthened the bond between them. Keelie knew they were keeping the goblins at bay, but the dragons would grow tired, and then what? It would be up to her.

  Knot wriggled his tail in agitation. “Shield will break soon.”

  “Let’s just hope the dragons can hold out.”

  A wind began to blow in the faire and she leaned into the cool breeze. It lifted the curls on the back of her head. Swirls of dust danced in the road. Then the cool air transformed into a cold wind and a discordant jangle rang all around her, obliterating the chaotic sounds and preparations.

  Keliel. You summoned me.

  As the whirlwind of dust disappeared, Peascod spun up from the ground dressed in torn motley clothes, the lower half of his mask shattered, pieces dangling, revealing mottled goblin skin covered in bleeding sores. The Compendium was under his arm, and Toshi floated beside him like a chewed and torn ghost. Crumbs of dirt fell to the ground from the book binding.

  “Yes, I summoned you. You have something that belongs to me,” Keelie told her nemesis. “I want it back.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you have this. Why is it that all the magical goodies seem to come to you?” Peascod’s puppet mimicked his actions spastically, patting the green, leatherbound book. Creepy even for Peascod.

  “Just luck, I guess.” Keelie crooked her finger, motioning for Peascod to hand the Compendium over. She didn’t like him having his grubby hands on it.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Peascod said.

  Toshi waved its hand in a no-no gesture.

  Peascod opened the Compendium. “Very interesting reading. Have you read the section on dimensional travel?” Leering at her with its fixed grin, Toshi gleefully rubbed its hands together.

  Keelie had never seen a section on dimensional travel, and she didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Did you see the pages on goblin magic?” Peascod’s eyes watched her from the hollows of the mask.

  “The information on goblins was limited,” Keelie replied.

  “There are layers upon layers in this book, and if you know the right words of persuasion, you can get access to them.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Keelie thought she saw the book shudder when Toshi touched it. “Give me the book,” she said, forcing the fear out of her voice. The branch tingled in her hand. Lot of good it was-maybe she would need to get rid of it.

  Toshi’s flat black eyes stared at her as if he could see straight inside of her, and knew she was afraid.

  Hrok’s voice popped into her mind.

  Whatever Peascod does, hang on to my branch because it will be your way back to this time and place.

  What do you mean, it’s my way back?

  I sense the one named Tavyn. I must break our connection, for he watches you through me. He has the little aspen tree. You must save it if you can. Be safe, Tree Shepherdess.

  Sweat trickled down Keelie’s back. She had to keep Peascod distracted until she figured out what she was going to do to stop him.

  “Why does Tavyn want this book?” she asked Peascod.

  At first, Peascod scowled; then he laughed, revealing jagged teeth. “Keelie, you know as well as I do-for the power.”

  She’d guessed as much, but she had to keep Peascod talking until she had a chance to grab the Compendium and run for it.

  “How long has Tavyn been your master?” she
asked.

  Peascod hissed. “He thinks he is my master. I only played along. Isn’t that right?”

  Toshi nodded.

  “Rather convincingly,” Keelie said.

  “It’s all your fault,” Peascod spat out. Toshi turned to Keelie and floated within two feet of her, waggling its hand in front of her face like she’d been a naughty child.

  “What?” Keelie watched the poppet to make sure it didn’t do anything else, but it drifted back to Peascod and hovered beside him.

  “Tavyn and me. That night in the Redwoods, he captured me and forced me to swear allegiance to him. Linsa was dead already, and he knew about the leaking wild magic at the rift. He wanted to control it. He wanted more magic.”

  “Why? What gave him the idea the Compendium would give him power?”

  “There are signs the old gods are returning, and Tavyn wants to be part of the old pantheon, but with a new edition-himself as a goblin god. Doing that takes magical power and a magical army.

  Peascod’s jagged teeth chattered as if he were chilled from fever. Toshi patted the jester’s shoulder as if trying to comfort him. In fact, Peascod didn’t look well-pocked with sores, skin dry, lips cracked and bleeding. He’d looked like a normal, albeit down-on-his-luck person back in Northwoods, but now he was changing into a monster. Maybe using magic for evil was taking a toll on his body.

  “It’s time Tavyn faced me, one-on-one.” Peascod turned to Toshi, who grinned a fixed smile at the jester. “This time I have an assistant.”

  A thundering crash behind Peascod signaled that the goblins had smashed their way into the faire. The magical shield had broken. Keelie looked up in the sky, but she didn’t see the dragons. Exhaustion must have claimed them. The goblin horde marched down West Road, brandishing swords, spikes, and axes.

  One giant goblin led the others. “Humans, surrender, and we’ll let you live,” he bellowed.

  The other goblins roared in unison. It was a primal noise that rippled like a bad vibration through Keelie’s body.

  She stepped to the edge of the lane, but her head throbbed as the trees all called to her at the same time. What will you do to protect us?

  Mental overload. She inhaled to steady herself. Concentrate, she advised herself.

  Focusing on the trees, she sent waves of comfort. Be brave. They aren’t here to hurt you.

  Sir Davey had rallied the shopkeepers and performers, and they had formed a ragtag army that now faced their foe with Finch’s deadly weapons. Keelie was proud of them, but she knew they wouldn’t be able to vanquish the goblins. She wished Dad would hurry up with the reinforcements. Where was he?

  The humans rushed at the goblins, who ran to meet them. The sound of screams and clanging metallic weapons filled the air.

  Keelie turned to Peascod, who was flipping through the pages of the Compendium, ignoring the mayhem. Not a good thing-she had to get the book from him. She walked closer to the unstable jester.

  “The book belongs to me, Peascod. Can’t you feel it? If you released it, the pages would fly into my arms.”

  “It may want you, but I need it,” Peascod hissed. “I have a way to free myself from Tavyn. Why do you always interfere with my plans?”

  Toshi nodded and pointed its wooden hand directly at her, then floated back to Peascod.

  The poppet wasn’t just scary, it was irritating. Keelie noticed that a nearby candle shop had a bucket of warm dipping wax in the window; she wondered if she could grab Toshi out of the air and dunk it in wax.

  Toshi stopped and turned slowly to look at her. Had it read her thoughts?

  “Is it time, my friend?” Peascod asked Toshi.

  It nodded, painted eyes still on Keelie.

  Hrok’s branch, still in her grasp, began to twitch. She remembered Hrok’s advice. Keep the branch.

  Light burst from the pages of the Compendium. Magic was about to be used.

  Keelie had to distract Peascod. He already seemed to be having a hard time concentrating, so if she talked, maybe it would keep his attention focused on her.

  “Maybe we can work together to stop Tavyn,” she suggested. The idea of cooperating with Peascod appalled Keelie, but she would do whatever it took to get the Compendium away from him.

  “I have a better idea.” Peascod began reading in a strange language Keelie didn’t understand. She’d read elven words, and she knew they didn’t sound like this. Yet it still sounded familiar, sort of like the guttural language she’d heard spoken between the goblins.

  The pull of magic began, enveloping her in skin-tingling waves.

  Keelie didn’t know what to do. The goblins seemed to be winning the hand-to-hand combat against the faire folk. The dragons were flying overhead again, but they couldn’t blast the attacking goblins because they were too close to the humans.

  The trees screamed in her mind, and she started to fall, weakened by the magical onslaught. She reached out and clung to one of the Galadriel’s Closet support beams.

  Then, in the chaos of the fighting, Keelie saw a face she hadn’t seen since the Redwood Forest. Tavyn was striding purposefully toward her, ignoring the fighting all around him and looking more like the goblin on the tarot deck and less like an elf. He was carrying the pot with the goblin tree, which smirked at her.

  Keep cool! Keelie knew she couldn’t show fear. “Done lurking in the woods?” she asked calmly.

  “You are finished, Keliel Heartwood,” the little goblin tree said.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” Keelie glowered at the traitor treeling. “You staged your own tree-napping.”

  Tavyn extended a taloned hand toward Peascod. “The book, vermin.”

  Peascod ignored the goblin-elf and continued to read from the Compendium. A high wind blustered through the faire and the sky darkened as if the sunset was on fast forward.

  Tavyn cried out, growling commands to the armored goblins behind him. He got no response-his army was cowering as the sun split into two, then four, then again and again until it seemed as if many setting suns surrounded them. The pull of magic was stronger, too, and reminded Keelie of the magic at the rift.

  Keelie held tightly to the aspen branch and closed her eyes against the disconcerting light. She sent out her tree sense, trying to anchor herself with the truth of the forest. Green, unchanging… and suddenly-gone.

  The bell on the jester’s hat rang loudly, and its distorted jangle filled the entire faire with the weight of discontent and unhappiness.

  Gravity started to pull sideways, and she felt as if every molecule of her body was being disassembled. Her last thought, before all the air was sucked out of her lungs and the world turned inside out, was that she would love to have that purple and blue dress with cap sleeves hanging in the window of Galadriel’s Closet.

  Whoosh!

  She was being transported somewhere, but much faster than in her whooshing travels with Herne or Dad. It was like being in a swirling vortex, or a spinning carnival ride on hyperdrive. Her shoulder banged painfully against a solid surface, and she opened her eyes a crack. She’d hit the door of Galadriel’s Closet.

  She gripped the wood (oak, from Georgia) of the shop support tighter in an attempt to stay in the faire. Dresses and costumes from within the shop zoomed out of the windows and door as the increased pressure pulled them around Peascod, who seemed to be at the center of the vortex. Clanking armor sailed toward the conjuring jester, along with statues of dragons, wooden swords, and chickens from the nearby petting zoo. If an object wasn’t nailed down, it was making its way toward him. Hapless goblins flew through the air.

  Opposite the deluged jester stood Tavyn, his feet squarely on the road, an arm across his face to protect it from the Renaissance Faire objects pummeling him on their way to Peascod. A turkey leg hit him on the forehead, and he let go of the goblin tree. It was sucked away as if by a giant vacuum cleaner, screaming, “Save me, Master!” before vanishing into the spinning tornado.

  Tavyn didn’t even l
ook in the little goblin tree’s direction.

  Tarl the mud man held on to a post of the Wing-A-Ding shop while two goblins shielded their heads as pewter wine goblets and fairy wings from the shop assailed them. The shopkeepers and performers clutched counters and were flattened against walls, unable to stand. Dulcimers and flutes from the music shop whirled around the goblins; more turkey legs smacked them, and one goblin howled with fury as a Steak-on-a-Stake drove into his thigh and stuck there like a meat pincushion.

  Above it all, Finch and Vangar flew, spouting flames as they winged their way over the faireground, prepared to attack. Another wave of turkey legs rushed toward Peascod, but he couldn’t see them because of the accumulated Ren Faire souvenir T-shirts flapping around him.

  The trees in the faire spoke in a wave of green.

  Where are we? We do not feel the sun, nor feel the dirt in our roots.

  Shepherdess, this is wrong. We can’t feel the Earth.

  Stay calm. Keelie sent reassuring waves of magic their way, glad to feel them in her head once more.

  Tavyn motioned with his hands and uttered a word that reverberated all around and sounded, gong-like, in her skull. Keelie had underestimated the amount of magic the half-goblin could wield. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Everything stopped whirling and dropped to the ground, including the turkey legs.

  “It worked,” Peascod said.

  “Of course, you fool.” Tavyn scowled at the jester.

  Keelie looked up at the sky and around the faire. They were encircled by an eerie darkness, and a strange pink moon cast a weird, dusky glow on the faire. Some stars twinkled in the background. The sky was not a Colorado sky, but the ground around her was the same. The faire was a mess-the path covered with debris, the windows of the shops broken by flying merchandise.

  Something was missing, and when Keelie realized what it was, her heart skipped several beats. There were no Rocky Mountains. It was all empty horizon.

  Peascod made an elegant bow, one leg extended. Then he rose and lifted his hands outward and spun around, shouting, “This is my faire, where the jester shall rule, and the subjects shall be loyal to me.”