Keelie continued to draw the symbol, focusing on the thorn-wrapped acorn that dangled from its coiled end. She felt her magic flow through her.
Dad cleared his throat. “Keelie, Sean didn’t know about the betrothal until he arrived here. It is something Niriel arranged with Risa’s father. They think they have a chance of—”
“—of having a child, an elven child, a pureblood elven child.” Grandmother’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of a pureblood elf child. Sean was to be little more than a breeder.
From the corner of her left eye, Keelie watched as Dad lowered his head into his hand. At least he understood what impact the word “pureblood” had on Keelie. Her eyes focused again on her drawing. Dad had married a human—that must have really torqued the old lady’s karma. Keelie’s very presence was an insult to elves everywhere.
She drew some more, and the symbol had a meditative and calming effect on her. She should really be mad at her grandmother, but right now she felt detached, not a part of the scene taking place around her.
Oblivious, Grandmother continued. “Surely Keelie knows about procreation. It is my understanding that human girls know about these things very early.”
“I guess pureblood elven girls don’t learn about sex until they’re over 200.” Keelie shaded in the thorns on the acorn.
Grandmother’s mouth sagged open, as if hearing Keelie say “pureblood” finally made her realize the impact of the word on her son and his halfblood daughter.
“Keelie, if things were different, Sean would be here with you. As it is, elves are bound by the rules, rituals, and customs of our culture—it defines who we are, and it keeps a balance in the magic.” Dad frowned at Keelie’s sketch.
To Keelie this sounded like “Blah, different, blah Sean, blah rules, rules, rules.”
“And besides, you’re only fifteen in human years,” Dad added.
Yeah, and Sean was what? Eighty? Keelie frowned. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to discuss this at all, much less with her human-prejudiced grandmother.
“Interestingly enough,” Keelie said. “When Elianard was giving me my Lore lesson today he showed me this symbol on a book. It’s the opposite of the one on the book in your library, Grandmother. What does it mean?” She turned the sketchbook around so that they could see her drawing.
Grandmother Keliatiel dropped her mug and it crashed to the floor, splashing peppermint tea on her skirts. She stood and wiped angrily at them with her napkin, sneaking looks at the sketchbook in between swipes.
There was a knock at the door. Dad gently took the sketchbook from Keelie and closed it. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“That’s Niriel.” Grandmother said. “He’s here to escort Keelie to her next lesson.”
Keelie twirled her finger in the air. “Woohoo, can’t wait. Do you think he’ll know what this symbol means?”
“No,” Grandmother hissed. She took a deep breath. “Do not mention that book to anyone.”
“Whatev.” Keelie channelled her California mall girl to create a protective barrier against her Grandmother’s words, all the while thinking that she had to find out what the book was all about.
“I’ll get the door, Mother. You stay here and rest.”
Grandmother started to bend down to retrieve the broken mug pieces, but collapsed backward in her chair.
“I’ll get it.” Keelie picked up the broken pieces of ceramic and wiped up the spilled tea with the kitchen towel Grandmother handed her. Her sketch had gotten such a big reaction. What was it, and why didn’t they want to talk about it?
It was unsettling to see her grandmother grow limp and need help, but she was probably faking it, Keelie thought. Looking sick to manipulate everyone to do her bidding.
“Lord Niriel is waiting for you outside.” Dad nodded to Keelie, then crouched next to his mother’s chair. “Are you all right?”
Keelie left, disgusted. Niriel was not by the door. She could hear Ariel’s cries. The hawk sounded upset. Keelie hurried around to the side of the house.
She looked around quickly. Niriel stood near the path to the mews, watching her. He wore a sword in a scabbard on his belt and held another scabbarded sword in his hand. Keelie didn’t want him near the hawk—she knew he’d been involved with Elianard’s plan to use the Wildewood unicorn’s magic to shore up the Dread, although she couldn’t prove it. Besides, it was his idea to marry his son to Risa, so it was his fault that Keelie’s heart was broken.
Ariel cried out and beat her wings.
“A pity to see something so beautiful and majestic caged.
Maybe her life would be better ended than letting her sit in darkness, listening to the wind blowing through the trees,” Niriel commented.
“I think there’s hope for her. I’ll make her better, and until I’m proved wrong, she’ll live.” Keelie didn’t mention the trees helping the hawk to fly. That was her secret.
Niriel bowed his head. “True, but not everyone has the habit of hope. There are some who foresee the approaching darkness even on the brightest days.” He turned to Keelie’s father, who had come out of the back door to check on her. “Do you not agree, Zeke?”
“I agree with Keelie. Hope conquers the darkness.”
“And that is exactly why Sean and Risa have been betrothed. Their child will be the hope of the elves—the next generation. And you’re not alone in being upset, Keelie. I understand Elia is unwell.”
Keelie didn’t care how Elia felt. Even though the elf girl had been friendly recently, it didn’t mean that they were going to be buddies. She was probably plotting to get Sean back, and if Keelie fell for her charm she would only end up lonely and embarrassed.
Grandmother wanted her to learn all about elves—but one thing she knew already was that some of them couldn’t be trusted. She was learning a lot, and all of it was bad.
five
“So, are you ready for your lesson? We won’t go far, just to the forge.” Niriel gestured toward the long buildings that housed the forge and stables.
“I’m not sure about this, Keelie.” Dad looked worried. “You don’t have to do this today. You’ve had a lot of upsets.”
“I’m fine.” Disgusted with herself, Keelie marched toward the path.
Niriel arched his eyebrow at her father as she passed him. “Problems?”
“No,” Dad said.
She was grateful to Dad, and a sense of protectiveness toward him welled up in her. She didn’t want to embarrass him in front of Niriel. She didn’t want Sean or Risa to hear that she couldn’t handle a lesson. She would trudge forward and do this, even if she just wanted to return to the woods with Ariel.
“Let’s get started,” she said.
Niriel caught up with her, and together they walked toward the forge. “How was your Lore lesson?” His voice was deep and smooth. He looked and sounded like a movie star, but Keelie didn’t trust him.
“It was okay.” Okay like a snore fest.
The sound of clashing steel came from inside the forge, along with shouts and laughter. Sean was probably in there. A few weeks ago she would have been antsy, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Today he was Risa’s fiancé and she hoped he stayed inside.
“As you are aware, the forge is where the young men work metal, each making his own sword and jousting armor. We’ll stay out here.”
They sat on a great tree root, and Niriel launched into a long and boring lecture about the various metals in a sword. Keelie felt her eyes getting heavier and heavier as he droned on, but came fully awake with a start as he said, “And now Keelie Heartwood, you’ll begin your first lesson.”
He stood up and drew a gleaming silver sword, as long as her arm, from the scabbard he was carrying. “Take it.” He tossed the scabbard aside.
She got up carefully and held out her hand, wondering if the sword would zap her like in the movies. Or maybe hundreds of armed men would come at her, screaming, from the woods. Instead, her fing
ers closed around the warm brown hilt. It was made from a piece of leather, and crisscrossed hundreds of times with a black silk cord to make a firm, hard surface.
She lifted the sword’s tip, then dropped it again. It was a strange feeling, but exciting. She suddenly wanted to learn how to use this weapon. She whirled to face Niriel, and he backed quickly away.
She laughed. “Sorry. I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
“There are rules, Keliel, about the wielding of live steel.”
She studied the blade. She knew he meant that the sword blade was naked, unsheathed, but it seemed to her that the sword might indeed be alive.
“I’m ready, Lord Niriel.”
But she wasn’t ready for the swift attack. His sword was out and at her throat, cold and hard, a second later. How had he moved so quickly?
She felt the sharpness on her skin a little longer, and then he released her. She stumbled forward, her own useless weapon drooping in her nerveless fingers.
“You must always be prepared for an attack, Keliel. You must hold the sword up, not like some wilting lily, and balance on your feet so that you are prepared to move, to react, without thought, without clumsiness.”
She watched him leap back, then stand, knees slightly bent, eyes focused on her, a predatory smile on his face. She licked her dry lips. He’d gone from cool, handsome elf lord to dangerous animal.
“I don’t think I can do this.”
He stood taller, and the animal grace dropped like a discarded cloak. “Come now, where’s the brave girl who led the charge into the Wildewood, who rescued Lord Einhorn? She wasn’t afraid.”
“She didn’t have to use a sword, either.” His words did make her feel stronger. She lifted the sword, which was heavy and awkward. She had a new appreciation for the swordsmen she’d seen at the faire. They made it look so easy, but this was like carrying a giant butter knife. A sharp one.
For the next hour, Niriel led her in exercises. They moved forward and backward, and she always kept the sword up, not letting it flag. When they stopped, her thighs, right arm, and shoulders were on fire.
“When do I get to hit something?” she asked, panting and leaning against a tree (oak, a young sapling).
“Oh, now we’re bloodthirsty.” Niriel grinned. “You can practice against a dummy, but not yet. I don’t want you to fracture a bone or rupture a muscle. Little by little.” He tilted his head. “I didn’t think that Zekeliel’s daughter would have the makings of a fighter, but you’re swift, and you catch on to the moves quickly for a—” he paused.
“For a girl?” she supplied. “Or for a Round Ear?”
He rolled his eyes. “I was going to say, for a city dweller.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed that she’d accused him of sexism and racism, she studied the handle of her sword, remembering her lesson on its parts. The pommel was the round thing at the end, and it balanced the long part, the blade. The hilt, the part she held, was made of strong wood with steel running through it. “Is this a broadsword?”
“Yes. It does not have a basket hilt to protect your hand, and its blade is long and two-edged all the way to the hilt. This is a light one, for practice. When you have learned more, if you wish to continue, I’ll let you use a heavier one.”
Heavier than this? It was torture just to lift the thing a few inches.
“Tired, aren’t you? We’ll put our swords away and practice again in a couple of days. You might want to rub liniment in your shoulder tonight.”
“Thanks, I’ll see if Dad has any. Can I keep the sword tonight?”
Niriel’s eyebrows rose. Maybe he thought she was going to murder his son. Or him. He shrugged. “Of course you may. Wipe it down tonight before you go to bed, and don’t let it get wet or it will rust.”
“Thanks.” She took a deep breath. “It was fun.” There. That had hurt more than her shoulder.
Niriel nodded gravely. “You must learn our ways, Keliel, but it doesn’t have to be torture, you know. This is a big step. Your father will be pleased.”
She noted that he didn’t mention her grandmother.
Later that afternoon, Keelie sat on the ridge watching the construction going on below by the road. Above her, Ariel cried out as if warning all the songbirds she was hungry.The discovery that the hawk could fly, “seeing” the world through the trees’ vision, had eased Keelie’s stress and guilt.
“You’ll never catch anything that way,” she called to Ariel, rubbing her shoulder. Her arm ached from the sword fighting.
She leaned back against the nearest tree (hemlock) and smiled down at the tiny people at the construction site. She imagined them as tiny people living on a puppet stage, even though they were normal-sized humans and very far away from her life in the woods with the elves.
The harvest festival was only weeks away. She couldn’t wait to see Sir Davey again. The festival wouldn’t be anything like a Renaissance Faire, but it would be fun to walk around the town in costume. She couldn’t wait to carve a pumpkin.
Her right hand smoothed out the soil in a small area, pushing aside leaves and sticks, and then her finger began to trace a design in the earth. A spiral, starting small, grower wider. A tickle on her arm drew her attention. It was a bhata, crawling down the bark of the tree. It walked slowly into the clear circle and seemed to examine her drawing.
Keelie waited, examining the little creature, wondering if it was the one who had accompanied her from New York. She called the bhata the stick fairies, because they seemed to be a collection of sticks and moss and berries. Sir Davey said that they were air spirits who used bits of the forest to make themselves a body. Knot liked to tear them apart. They always put themselves back together again. And then they’d chase Knot, pinching and poking him with their stick limbs. She’d even seen a bhata ride Knot like a cowboy.
She reached a fingertip out and touched one of the thin branch pieces that served as a leg for this one. It didn’t seem to notice as it concentrated on the symbol.
Ariel called from above, pulling Keelie out of her trancelike state.
“I just about hypnotized myself looking at one of those,” she said aloud.
The bhata turned sideways and cocked a scrap of moss to one side like a bad toupee.
“I’m just saying. Call it a warning among friends.” She leaned forward to smooth away the design, but the bhata, moving incredibly fast, stopped her by poking a stick between her fingers.
“Ouch.” Keelie drew her hand back and stared at the red spot in the tender webbing between her fingers. A drop of blood welled up. “You hurt me.”
The bhata turned from her and went back to staring at the concentric circle in the dirt. Keelie ignored it and squeezed her wound, wondering how much blood she could make ooze out. Crazy stick thing.
“You’re hurt. Did you cut yourself?”
She looked up, startled. The boy she’d seen sleeping the evening before stood a few feet away, watching her warily.
“Hey. I didn’t hear you come up. I just cut myself a little.” He was fast and quiet. She angled her body so that he wouldn’t see the bhata. Not that many humans ever noticed them, but she was acting more and more like a tree shepherd. “Do you live near here?”
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. Or was he staring at her hand? She covered it with the hem of her oversized sweater.
“I saw you the other day. Sleeping under the dead tree over there.” Keelie gestured toward it. “Were you okay?”
He cleared his throat, and a spasm crossed his face. “Er, yes. I’m fine.”
Keelie didn’t think he looked fine. He held his arms stiffly at his sides, his fists clenched.
Ariel called again. Keelie glanced up to make sure the hawk was nearby. She had caught a thermal and was circling high over the town.
The boy looked in the same direction. “Your bird seems to be safe.” He lowered his gaze back to her hand, but then quickly lifted his head and focused on her. He smiled a little and stepped
closer. “I think we need to introduce ourselves, since we keep running into each other in the forest. My name is Jake. What’s yours?”
“Keelie.” She wondered whether she should back away. Jake was one strange guy.
Knot appeared from beneath some ferns growing near the rock. Keelie wondered how long he’d been sitting there. He plunked himself down beside Keelie’s foot and proceeded to wash his leg.
The boy nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Keelie. Do you live around here?” He gestured toward town.
Even though Jake was cute, she didn’t think it was safe to let him know where she lived. But then Knot sauntered over and began rubbing his head against Jake’s jean-clad leg. Maybe the cat was giving her the he’s okay sign.
“Yeah, I do. I live just over there with my Dad and Grandmother.” She motioned with her chin in the direction of the elf village. It wouldn’t hurt for Jake to know her family was nearby.
Knot rubbed his head up and down Jake’s leg with vigorous enthusiasm. Jake smiled a little.
“So, are you a hiker? Camper?” Keelie asked.
He glanced behind him, as if he’d left his gear in plain sight.
“You don’t have to worry,” she said quickly. “I won’t tell anyone you’re here. Is someone coming back to pick you up?”
“No.” He looked at her for a second, and his expression changed, as if he’d come to a decision. “I’m not a hiker,” he confessed. “I’m hiding here.”
Knot now sat beside Jake. The cat lifted his head as if giving him the once over.
“Hiding?” She fought the urge to scoot backward. “As in, from the police, or are you a runaway?”
“I got into some stuff I shouldn’t have. Not drugs or anything,” he added. “I just need a place to stay, get my head together before I make some big life decisions. Being away from people and in the forest helps center me.”
The Secret of the Dread Forest: The Faire Folk Trilogy Page 5