The Goblin's Curse: The Scions of Shadow Trilogy, Book 3 (The Faire Folk Saga)

by Summers, Gillian

  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 look 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.”

  Mimicking Peascod’s moves, Toshi circled around him.

  “What did Peascod do?” Keelie gasped. She remembered Peascod mentioning “dimension travel.”

  Tavyn peered down his nose at her. His pointed ears peeked through his thick, silver-shot dreadlocks. “I thought you had studied the Compendium.” He used a condescending tone of voice that reminded Keelie of Niriel.

  “I did,” Keelie said. “It seems to have layers it decided not to reveal to me.” Like moving an entire faire to a different dimension. She definitely hadn’t read that chapter—she would have remembered it.

  “The book reveals what it wants when it wants.” Tavyn flicked his eyes over at Peascod, who had an idiotic grin on his grotesque face. His mask was gone, shattered by the debris, revealing the necrotic skin beneath.

  “The fool has lost his mind.” Tavyn turned to Keelie.

  She pointed at Peascod. “So, I take it he used goblin lore to … ”

  “Move the High Mountain Renaissance Faire to a different dimension.” Tavyn yawned, as if not caring about the danger he, too, was in. It seemed Peascod would do anything to get his freedom.

  “What dimension?” Keelie asked, as if she knew one from another.

  “It might be the one between the human world and the spirit world.” Tavyn looked around. “Hard to tell. Far from the reach of human, fae, or elven intervention.”

  “Can you send us back?” Keelie wanted the Rocky Mountains, and she wanted to be back on good ol’ Earth. She’d had enough of spirits and gods. She didn’t want to meet up with whatever lived in this neighborhood.

  “I’ll need the Compendium.”

  “Well, you know where to get it. Your jester has it.” If Tavyn could move the faire back to the Earth, maybe she could do the same. It was a stretch, but she was desperate. She didn’t trust him. He had aspirations to become a god to the dark fae.

  A line of fire landed near Tavyn’s feet and he jumped back. Keelie did too.

  She looked up in the sky at Finch flying overhead. The dragon circled around, coming in for another attack.

  The goblins went on the rampage again, taking advantage of this latest distraction. The shop owners and performers were losing the battle, despite the fresh dwarven troops fighting valiantly alongside them. Fatigue, despair, and confusion seemed to be written on the humans’ faces. The dwarves fought on with grim determination.

  Thomas the Glass Blower staggered toward Keelie, blood bubbling from a wound in his chest. He collapsed on the road, and the goblin behind him waved his bloody sword and roared in victory.

  “No,” Keelie shouted. She started to run toward the fallen merchant, but Knot leaped in front of her, causing her to trip. She landed hard on her knees but still managed to keep from breaking Hrok’s branch.

  “Meow too dangerous.”

  Thomas lay crumpled in the clutter-strewn, dusty lane, and his eyes dulled as life faded from his body.

  twenty-three

  Peascod glared at them from the road in front of Galadriel’s Closet. Toshi shook its head, but smiled as it looked directly at Keelie, and then clapped its little wooden hands.

  “Seems as if we have our first human casualty.” Tavyn arched an eyebrow.

  “Tsk. Tsk. The first of many casualties, including you, Tavyn,” Peascod called out. He clung to the Compendium, looking drawn and pale as his puppet soared toward the goblin-elf. “Although I should thank you for giving me that idea about moving the faire to this dimension. We can take care of our business unimpeded.”

  Keelie sent a “thanks a lot for nothing” glare at Tavyn.

  Tavyn held out his hand and the puppet stopped. It couldn’t move, immobilized by magic.

  “Peascod. I tire of your games.” Tavyn’s voice deepened. He pushed his hand forward, and the puppet zoomed back and slammed into Peascod.

  Keelie didn’t know what was wrong with Peascod, but it really looked like the jester needed to be in the hospital. He appeared to have aged in the past hour. But she couldn’t feel sorry for him—he had brought this fate onto himself. Remembering Cricket, Keelie couldn’t forget that it was Peascod who had killed the harmless little goblin.

  Toshi floated in front of her.

  Keelie recalled Sally saying that a poppet could store magic. What if Peascod had put his own life essence into the puppet?

  Destroy the puppet. Destroy Peascod.

  But how?

  Tavyn’s eyes flared with pure disgust as he glowered at Peascod. “I will deal with you later.”

  He turned to Keelie, and his eyes widened when he saw the branch. “I think I will take that gift from our friend Hrok.”

  He’d recognized the branch. It was all suddenly clear to Keelie. “You are a tree shepherd.”

  “Surprise!” Tavyn grinned, showing sharp goblin teeth. “My grandfather was a tree shepherd. Who’d guess the power would arise in me when I embraced my goblin side?”

  A goblin tree shepherd. Hrok had read it right. Keelie stared at Tavyn, horrified.

  Fire poured down from the sky, nearly hitting the goblin. Finch had zoomed in. Tavyn aimed a blast of magic up toward the retreating red dragon.

  “I have work to do. Call off the dragons, or I will order my goblins to kill each and every human found within this faire, children included.” Tavyn kicked Thomas’s body.

  Repulsed, Keelie wanted to blast Tavyn with green magic—but what
if he could turn it against her? He was a tree shepherd too. Dad was right; she didn’t know enough about her own magic to be able to fight with anything but luck.

  “I don’t know how to reach Finch or Vangar when they’re in dragon form.” She shot a dark look at the goblin-elf. To think that people made comparisons between the two of them. Except for that halfblood thing, and being tree shepherds, they had nothing in common.

  “I suggest you find a way, tree shepherdess.” He flashed a smile at her, as if he found the situation amusing. He beckoned the goblins to bring Mara and her daughter forward. A goblin ripped the toddler from her mother’s arms. Little Ava screamed and Mara reached out, crying for her daughter.

  Keelie had to do something.

  “It’s up to Keelie—she has to call off the dragons,” Tavyn yelled above the terrified shrieks of the little girl.

  Keelie hadn’t been able to stop the rampaging goblins, and so far, she hadn’t regained the Compendium. But she had other ways to fight.

  She thrust Hrok’s branch into the dirt and called on the green that surrounded them. As the trees answered, desperate for help themselves, she thrust her power into the ground. If Under-the-Hill was still there …

  The dark coolness of the Under-the-Hill filled her head, but it wasn’t the abandoned mustiness of the one under the meadow. It was the spicy-scented warmth of Herne’s dominion.

  A roar came from the end of the road and chimes rang loud and clear, filling the air. Keelie turned in the direction of the noise.

  Tavyn frowned and pounded his fist into his hand. “What have you done?”

  A pulsing swirl of light, like the Aurora Borealis, formed in the middle of the path. It looked like the vortex at the Quicksilver Faire turned on its side. It separated the lines of fighting goblins and humans.

  Tarl and Sir Davey scurried out into the lane to carry Thomas’s body out of the way while the goblins were distracted by the light. A pirate grabbed a discarded goblin sword and came to stand at Keelie’s side, ready to defend her.

  A ground-shaking crack, like thunder, split the air. Literally. Where the pulsing whirl of light had once been was a pulse-edged sliver of darkness, a door into nothingness in the middle of the road.

  It widened, and a row of gleaming, prismatic-armored knights, lances ready, rode out of the dark sliver of doorway into the faire. Keelie gasped, recognizing the High Court’s fairy army. Humans, dwarves, goblins stood frozen, staring at the beautiful beings, and then the goblins charged.

  The armored knights lowered their lances and attacked. The dwarves followed, howling battle cries. Keelie was startled to see Knot, wielding a lethal-looking short sword, to the left of King Gneiss.

  Tavyn screamed and ordered more goblins into the fray, while the humans threw themselves onto the rear guard of the goblin army. About fifty armored goblins split off from the fight and ran down the road to circle Keelie, Tavyn, and the pirate. The pirate hacked at arms and legs as they came near, wounding many, but to no avail. The goblins seemed impervious to pain.

  Keelie called upon the trees again, and they bent, their branches hitting some goblins on the head and sweeping others aside like ugly croquet balls in a crazy lawn game.

  One of the fairy knights turned his mount and galloped down the lane toward them. Tavyn screamed and leaped, landing on the roof of Galadriel’s Closet. Peascod grabbed Toshi out of the air and whirled underground in a spray of dirt.

  The knight reined in his horse and leaped to the ground, yanking off his helmet. Brown hair tumbled down the shining armor, and around her father’s grim face.

  “Dad!”

  He ran to her and swept her up in his arms.

  “How … ?” Keelie asked.

  “Bruce, Deuce, and Zeus have a mutual friend in common

  with you, and I thought we could use his help,” Dad said as he turned her around. “We brought reinforcements.”

  “The High Court, yes. What mutual friend?”

  Another knight removed his helmet, and Keelie saw that it was Salaca, the fae lord. He bowed to her from atop his war horse, then put his gleaming helmet back on, wheeled his mount, and attacked the goblin army. The fae army kept marching out of the doorway—now standard bearers came, holding aloft great silken flags with strange symbols on them. Behind them rode King Fala, the crown of the High Court fae bright on his brow.

  And at his side, antlers proud, was Herne—with his Wild Hunt behind him.

  Herne caught Keelie’s eye and winked. And then the fae warriors, light and dark, fought side by side for the first time in millennia.

  Keelie looked for a weapon, ready to join the battle, but Tarl grabbed her up and held her fast to his broad chest.

  “Don’t let her go till the battle’s over,” Dad yelled, mounting his horse again.

  “Dad, come on, I want to help!”

  He rode away, intent on the endless hordes of goblins that seemed to spin out of the ground everywhere.

  “Sylvus take me,” Keelie whispered. Even the fae might not be enough to stop them.

  Tarl suddenly cursed and turned around. Raven was standing behind them, a pike in her arms. “You hit me!”

  “Sorry, Tarl. I saw Keelie and thought you were an ogre.” Raven shrugged. “You okay, kiddo?”

  “I will be if he puts me down,” Keelie said, but her eyes were on the carnage around them. “I think we’re losing. Even with the fae, we’re losing.”

  Raven pushed her hair out of her dirt-streaked face. One of her nails had broken, and blood stained her tank top. “I have an idea, but it’s a little crazy.”

  Keelie cocked her head. “Yeah? Tarl, let go of me. I’m not going to run or fight.” Yet, she added under her breath.

  As Tarl released her, Raven grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the ruins of the King’s stage. Tarl joined Merk the Troll and what seemed to be a real troll; the three whirled giant war axes and charged a group of rampaging goblins.

  “Remember when you drew on Earth magic in the Wildewood?”

  Keelie nodded. “I can’t do that here, though. We’re in another dimension or something, and I have no connection to the Earth.”

  Raven smiled. “No, but I have a connection to my husband. Remember him? The unicorn lord of the forest?”

  Keelie felt her eyes widen as she realized what her friend was saying. “We can link to the Wildewood through Einhorn?”

  “And through my Lord Einhorn, to every forest on Earth.”

  The two friends grinned at each other and joined hands. Then Raven closed her eyes and Keelie opened her tree sense. The image of Einhorn, the silvery-haired lord of the Wildewood, appeared.

  Raven, what’s happening? My forest screams.

  “Hang on, hubby. This is going to be a wild ride. Ready, Keelie?”

  Keelie pushed on her power and Einhorn immediately responded, their mental link showing him what was needed.

  Behind them, on the hills of the stranded faire, green power surged up from the ground, surrounding the fighters in tendrils of power. The fae and humans were untouched, but the goblins screamed as the power swept over them, leaving them vulnerable to the faire’s defenders.

  Channeling the magic took every ounce of Keelie’s strength. After a while, it was too much. She and Raven fought to keep the conduit open, but then everything winked out into a starless dark.

  When she opened her eyes again, Herne was standing over her. Fala stood nearby, talking to someone she couldn’t see.

  “Am I dreaming?” She touched her forehead. The aftermath of the magic hurt, like a dozen hangovers must hurt. Keelie vowed to never drink. She didn’t want to ever feel like this again.

  “Keliel, you’re back.” Herne bowed his head. “We were just discussing where we could be.” He studied the area around him. “Where are the mountains? I thought we were near the Rockies?”

  “Peascod used the Compendium to move the faire to another dimension.”

  Fala snapped his fingers. “That’
s why we were rerouted here. I thought we’d hit an interdimensional exit when we neared Earth.”

  “Did we win?” Keelie immediately knew that the fighting was not over. She heard the clash of steel against steel further into the faire.

  “I thought we might have a time continuum problem,” Herne said to Fala.

  “Will you two stop talking like Dr. Who?” Keelie struggled to her feet. Raven was already standing, a little wobbly, nearby.

  “There’s Tavyn.” Keelie pointed toward the goblin, who now fought at the head of his remaining goblin faction, and then she saw Peascod, now sitting on the peak of the candle shop roof, nodding his head as he conferred with Toshi. He lifted his eyes and glared at Keelie.

  “We’ve defeated most of the army. Peascod is in a much worse state than I’d realized,” Herne said. “Like random chaos—you’re not quite sure what he’s going to do.”

  Finch and Vangar landed, and with a burst of flames, transformed into their human forms. They looked like a draconic biker couple in iridescent black and red leathers.

  “Glad for the reinforcements,” Finch said, her red-gold eyes flashing at Herne and Fala.

  “What a happy family reunion. Too bad it won’t help you in the end,” Tavyn declared as he walked toward them. Wild magic flowed in and around him like a captive cirrus cloud.

  Fala sneered disdainfully at Tavyn. “Who is he?”

  “A goblin-elf hybrid,” Herne explained. “He magically enslaved Peascod when I sent him out into the human world.”

  “I am no longer magically enslaved to him,” Peascod called down. His eyes blazed with crazed fury, and he was still clinging to the Compendium. Keelie knew she had to get it, and soon, before the jester did something destructive to it. Hrok’s branch twitched in her hand as if it was coming awake, or reacting to the magic.