Goblins. The cavern was shiny with torchlight reflecting off slick, fungus-like skin where it wasn’t covered by armor. It looked like a war party of demons. A few of the goblins were like Cricket—glossy, black, and insect-like—but they were almost man-tall. And there was no waterfall. It was the goblins who roared, arms raised in celebration.
It suddenly occurred to Keelie that she’d done such a good job of blocking herself from the trees, so that Dad wouldn’t know where she was, that she’d also blocked her magical senses.
She felt the magic now, waves of it prickling against her skin. She had to notify Dad, but if she tried to use magic, the goblins might notice it. Or maybe her use of it would be hidden from them? Keelie suddenly craved fresh air. Her chest burned and ached as if it was being squeezed. Panic attack. She needed to get out of here now. What if they captured her and tortured her?
Knot placed his paw on her foot, and the waves of anxiety crashing in on her began to ease.
“Meow this way.”
Keelie fought the fear, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She was okay. They hadn’t sensed her yet, and if she could back out as quietly as she’d entered, they would never know she’d been here. In the cavern, the goblins were starting to bob and shuffle. Now was her chance to back out, while they were busy doing whatever they were about to do.
A familiar jangle made her freeze before she’d taken a step—the sound of a belled hat, somehow audible over the roar of the goblins. Peascod. It had to be. She edged back to the cavern opening and leaned forward to peek in.
The goblins were dancing now. Their squatting and jumping and shuffling would get them kicked out of
any L.A. club, but it was definitely dancing. Were they celebrating?
Standing on a stone ledge, on the opposite side of the cavern, was a slender figure who seemed to be leading the dance. It was definitely male, or at least Keelie thought so, given the broad shoulders and slender waist—and mask. Keelie’s breath caught. The figure was dancing maniacally, and then he started to bang a big kettle drum that stood waist-high on the floor. The goblins bounced to his beat and banged their boots on the stone floor. The figure reached down, snatched something from the floor, and jammed it on his head. A jester’s hat.
Torches blazed into light around the cavern and the goblins roared their approval. The light reflected off the shiny mask on Peascod’s face. He began to pull it off, to cheers and cries of approval.
As Keelie leaned in, not breathing as she waited to see what Peascod hid behind his mask, a steel-covered hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her around. The goblin stared at her for a second, face tilted; then his lips skimmed back to reveal jagged yellow fangs.
Keelie wrenched free and leaped down the corridor, dropping her rose quartz. The next tunnel junction had to be ahead. Metal rang on stone as the goblin gave chase. Keelie’s knees were like jelly and her fingertips scrapped against the stone wall as she tried to keep her bearings. A guttural cry sounded behind her and she ran even faster, banging painfully into the walls in the darkness.
Words from the Compendium floated behind her eyes. Her breath came in harsh gasps as she tried to remember what they meant. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they’d come to her now. She started to say the words aloud, then paused. What if it was a get-your-socks-clean charm? Or one to keep mice out of your knitting? She recognized the elven word for “red,” but that meant nothing. It could be a charm to make tree leaves brighter in the autumn.
Hot pain shredded across her left thigh and she leaped in reaction, startling a grunt out of her attacker. Furious and panicked, Keelie yelled the words of the charm. A wave of heat pushed her forward, propelling her up into the air and smacking her sideways into the stone wall. Her right shoulder went numb, and her belly curled up in fear.
She fell to the floor, shaking and in pain. When she could breathe normally again, she realized that the fear she felt was the Dread—she must be close to the part of the forest where the elves lived, their protective spell somehow penetrating the soil beneath them and carrying down into Under-the-Hill. This place was scary enough without adding the Dread.
Since she no longer had her rose quartz, Keelie summoned Earth magic and wrapped its protection around her. The Dread’s grip diminished. The rock walls still thumped to the beat of the drum, but she didn’t sense any living creature nearby. She reached out with her tree sense.
Hrok? Are you there?
Immediately, Hrok’s comforting presence flooded her mind. I’m here.
Goblins. Lots of them. Need to warn Dad. She sat up, rubbing her shoulder, then paused. She could see, dimly; her connection to Hrok must be allowing her to see in the darkness.
Milady, you shouldn’t be afraid of the goblins. They are our friends.
Keelie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Knot slid in between her and the wall. His soft warmth comforted her.
A movement to her left caught her eye, and she froze. It was the goblin who’d chased her, passed out on the floor. He looked a little scorched, having been on the receiving end of whatever that charm had been. He moved again.
“Meow follow me.” Knot head-butted her, encouraging her to keep moving.
A chirp sounded from above her and she looked up to see a pair of inquisitive eyes looking down at her.
“Cricket!”
The little goblin jumped down and poked her sore arm. She batted his sharp-pointed fingers away. “Stop. It hurts.”
Cricket chirped again, then stopped and looked behind her, his expression somber. He’d spotted the big goblin. Did he realize that he was one, too? He dropped to the ground and went to explore his unconscious relative, then he turned and looked at her arm, his eyes troubled.
Keelie glanced down and gasped, feeling queasy. Her arm had two gouges on it, and her sleeve was stained with blood. She’d thought her arm just ached from hitting the wall.
“Come on, Cricket. Let’s go.”
She crawled around the goblin’s body and followed Knot up the tunnel. She flexed her fingers. They still seemed to work, which was good. They finally reached the dirt staircase and she eased up it, bit by shaky bit. There was a long moment when Keelie thought she would be climbing forever, but then she smelled the green of the grass near the obelisk rock.
She was already out in the open before she realized that her journey was over. It was dark outside now, but the sound of the crickets and the faint strains of a fiddle from the players’ campground finally penetrated her foggy mind.
Outside. Keelie took a deep breath and fell over, lying on the grass and watching the stars above. Knot plopped down beside her, and his purring presence filled her with relief and comfort. Cricket crunched on some rocks near her feet.
“Come on, guys, let’s get going. I don’t want the goblins to catch my scent.”
As they came to the bridge, a warm wave surrounded Keelie. It was not just Hrok, but the other trees in the meadow. Keelie could hear them all, but one in particular caught her attention—a longleaf pine who seemed to be speaking to someone else. Keelie realized that it was talking to her father.
She interrupted, using the pine’s connection to call out to Dad.
Danger, Dad. I need you. She sent mental images of what she’d seen Under-the-Hill.
Also, Dad, Hrok told me that the goblins are friends to the trees. I don’t know why he would think that; he knows what goblin blood can do to a tree. If the others believe this too, we have a big problem. Maybe they’re mixed up because the goblins are coming from Under-the-Hill like the bhata.
Where are you now, Keelie?
On the lane, headed toward the bridge.
A mental impression of a hug came from her father, and she sensed his worry, as well as a whiff of cinnamon.
She hurried on toward the bridge, halting when figures appeared out of the darkness on the other side of the stream. Keelie stopped, ready to run into the woods. She wondered if the goblins had come after her from another entranc
e to Under-the-Hill.
Moonlight filtered down through the branches and she saw that one of the advancing figures was tall, and the other came to just above his waist.
“Keelie?”
The relief that flooded her at the sound of her father’s voice made Keelie realize just how scared she’d been. She broke into a run and slammed into his chest, clutching his soft shirt and inhaling his scent. Sir Davey stood quietly next to her.
Dad’s big hand cradled her head and he murmured “There, there” while she sobbed, her tension eased by her father’s comforting presence.
After a moment she lifted her head. “There were so many of them, Dad.”
His worried eyes looked into hers and he grasped her face in his hands. “You are not to go down there again, do you understand? We’ll put guards at the entrance.”
Sir Davey nodded. “I’ll alert Finch. She’s said something about a magical shield. She and Vangar are working on combining their magic.”
Sharp prickles climbed Keelie’s leg and she reached down to pull Cricket from her jeans. Dad recoiled slightly at the sight of the little goblin, but he seemed to force himself to relax.
“Let’s go to my RV,” Davey said.
They walked back down the East Road toward the performer’s campground and Davey’s deluxe RV. Dad motioned to Keelie to be silent, and they said nothing as they passed the lights glimmering from tents and voices raised in song, oblivious to the danger just a few yards away.
In the RV, Davey turned on lights as Dad latched the door, then turned to Keelie.
Go away. Leave me alone, the goblin tree shouted in Keelie’s mind.
She’d forgotten that Sir Davey had taken it home with him. In the clay pot, huge chunks of amethyst surrounded the tree’s trunk. Sir Davey was using Earth magic to neutralize the sapling’s negativity. But it pushed its irate face out of its trunk and stuck its green tongue out.
Dad scowled at the tree. He turned back to Keelie. “On second thought, I want you to go back to Janice’s. You and Raven are to stay together at all times.”
Keelie frowned. “No way I’m walking all the way to Janice’s right now. Can’t I rest a minute? The goblins were really scary, and I hurt one of them, so they might think this fight is personal.”
Puny elves versus goblins. My vote is on the goblins. The tree sneered at them.
“I’m going to confer with the elves,” Dad said. “This will definitely propel them to make a decision.”
Davey looked up at Dad, his grim face shadowed by the lamplight. “What do you mean, ‘confer’? Niriel will stir up the elves with this information. That’s one elf I don’t trust.”
Dad shook his head. “The elves must know about the goblins. We can’t keep this a secret. The goblin army is indeed here, and Keelie’s found the entrance to their lair.”
Davey straightened. “I will call my brothers. The dwarves must know as well.”
“So do we tell the dragons too? Finch and Vangar?” Keelie asked. Ermentrude had kicked goblin butt up in the Northwoods.
“I’ll tell them,” Dad said. “You stay out of sight at Janice’s. There are those who will say that you’ve known where the goblins were all this time, and only chose now to reveal them to get yourself out of trouble.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Keelie said. “But what about the faire folk? The shopkeepers? Can we tell them? They’ll fight too.” Keelie imagined a scene out of an old monster movie, with angry peasants carrying torches and pitchforks as they stormed the castle.
“No humans.” Dad’s voice was firm—his “don’t argue” tone.
Outraged, Keelie was about to launch into argument anyway when she heard the trees crying out a warning. “What’s happening?”
Davey stuck his head out the RV door. “I smell wood smoke—it’s more than just camp fires.”
Dad lifted his head, listening. “Fire, on the other side of the hill. Davey, warn the others.”
The goblin tree began to chant. His tree voice creaked with malice. Burn. Burn. Burn.
eleven
Davey threw himself out of the RV and disappeared into the campground, his cries of “Fire!” cutting through the merriment.
Dad leaped out of the RV after him and ran to a large, military-style lodge-tent next to them, calling out, “Fire!” He ran on to the next tent as Tarl and his friends poured out of the lodge, tankards in hand, sniffing the air.
Dad ran back to the RV. “To Janice’s, Keelie,” he yelled, then raced up the road as Tarl’s men spread the alarm. In seconds, the spaces between the tents were full of faire workers who’d dropped their meals, guitars, and books to help.
Davey returned and grabbed a fire extinguisher from under a cabinet, which he handed to Keelie. “Take this to Janice. Not sure if she has one, and I have an extra.”
Keelie stared at the fire extinguisher. If the fire wasn’t controlled early, it would turn into a monster like the one that had engulfed Heartwood. No fire extinguisher could have stopped that one.
“I don’t want to run away,” Keelie said. “I’m part of this faire and I want to help.”
“You’re not running away,” Davey said earnestly. “You have to warn Janice so that she can save her shop and spread the alarm to those living on the grounds.”
Keelie grabbed the heavy red extinguisher and ran up the road, pushing past the blue-jean-clad faire folk who jostled past her, carrying shovels, rakes, buckets, and even more fire extinguishers as they rushed toward the blaze, visible now as an orange glow on the horizon near the jousting arena. Thomas the Glass Blower huffed his way down the path, carrying a hoe, Sam the Potter beside him.
“I wonder if this was Vangar the firebug’s doing,” Sam said.
“Don’t know, but Finch will defend him if it is,” Thomas answered as they glared at Keelie.
She was the only one headed away from danger as she turned toward Green Lady Herbs, wishing she had the Compendium.
“Hurry, Keelie!” a red-faced Raven shouted, waving Keelie to the herb shop.
Janice was hosing water onto the roof and around the building. “Keelie, thank goodness you’re here. I need your help. Go inside and cover my herbs and tinctures with cloth.”
Inside the shop, the sweet, woodsy scent was now mixed with the smell of burnt wood. Keelie blinked back tears—the faire was slowly dying. Shimmerlight, Lavender Lollipop, and Lily Limerton showed up and helped cover the herbs. Then Janice ran toward the jousting arena, the girls behind her.
The stands were fully engulfed, the flames shooting high into the trees. The trees shrieked in Keelie’s head, howling in terror as the flames licked at their trunks and branches.
Keelie joined a bucket brigade that scooped water from the horses’ spring-fed trough and passed buckets to be flung at the fire. It was like spitting into a volcano, but it was something. Endless buckets passed her on their way to the roaring inferno, and while her body worked mechanically, her mind was trying to soothe the forest.
She sensed her father’s voice as he worked on the other side of the fire, and then she felt her uncle and her grandmother joining in from their far forests. The tree shepherds were working together. Despite her fear and exhaustion, Keelie’s pride lightened her heart.
Around her were signs of a similar spirit as the faire workers pitched in to help each other. The faire folk were family, maybe not by blood, but by choice and circumstance.
It wasn’t until after midnight that the last remnants of the fire were under control. The jousting arena had been turned to ashes. The Silver Bough Company would have to perform its demonstrations in the parking lot until the embers cooled.
Keelie trudged back to Green Lady Herbs with Janice and Raven, thinking this was getting really old.
Dad joined them just as they neared the shop. Janice stopped walking a moment, overcome with emotion at the sight of her little cottage unharmed.
Dad was dirty and his hair was loose, his ear tips exposed. “Thank you for lett
ing Keelie stay with you, but she’ll sleep at Sir Davey’s tonight.”
“She helped me save my shop. I couldn’t have done it without her,” Janice said.
“Can’t she stay with us?” Raven asked.
Dad shook his head. Keelie sensed that something was off about him. For one thing, he never showed his ear tips around humans, even Janice and Raven who knew about the elves.
“Keelie, thank you for all of your help,” Janice said. Her cap was askew, and her face ashen and smudged with dirt.
Keelie wiped her hands over the forehead. Dirt and smoke came off in her hands. “I think I need a shower.”
“Let’s head to the RV.” Dad rubbed his eyes with the palm of his sooty hands.
“Be careful, especially around Vangar.” Janice hugged Keelie.
“We’ll be fine,” Keelie said.
Walking back to the performer’s campground, exhausted and desperately wanting to feel hot water sluicing down her body, Keelie yearned for Sir Davey’s RV and its expansive luxury spa bathroom.
“Keelie, I hope you didn’t say anything to Janice about the goblins?” Dad asked.
“No, we didn’t have time to talk.” Keelie frowned. “Why don’t you want her to know about the goblins? She knows you’re an elf. “
“Things have changed. The battle in the Northwoods has convinced the elves that the less we interact with humans, the better. For the Ren Faires there’ll be little change, but even so, the less humans know, the better.”
Keelie stopped. “It’s wrong, Dad. I think we should be more open, not less. Why can’t humans know about elves, anyway?”
Dad shook his head. He seemed so standoffish right now.
“We’ll argue about this later. Once I drop you off at Sir Davey’s, I must meet with the elves.”
“Again? It’s the middle of the night.” Keelie dropped her sarcastic tone and placed a hand on his sooty shoulder. “Dad, you need to rest too. You’re getting a little loopy.”
Dad hugged her. “Later.” They had reached the edge of the campground, and he left her standing among the parked cars. Thomas the Glass Blower waved to Dad as he walked toward the woodland path leading to the elven camp.
The Goblin's Curse: The Scions of Shadow Trilogy, Book 3 (The Faire Folk Saga) Page 11