The Quicksilver Faire

by Gillian Summers

  Elia wasn’t her best friend, nor her worst enemy anymore, but Keelie couldn’t stand to see her in pain. She didn’t know who the wagon driver was, but when he ignored Elia, it had hurt her feelings.

  “Let’s rescue Elia,” she said to Sean. “Something’s not right here.”

  “I’ve been saying that since we hit town,” Sean muttered. “This is not good, Keelie. Elia is correct in her expectation of a huge celebration in honor of her return to the forest of her mother’s people. The baby alone merits much feasting and happiness.”

  Keelie dropped Knot and went over to the elf, who stared down at her. She glared back, then ignored him as he’d ignored Elia.

  “Come on Elia, I’ll help you get in the wagon.”

  Elia lifted an eyebrow. “Why do you think I need your help?” She walked stiffly to the wagon, grabbed the rope, and struggled to get in.

  Keelie wanted to give her a swift kick in the backside to help her up, but just watched as she wriggled and flailed her way into the wagon bed, finally accepting Sean’s help.

  Keelie looked down at Knot. “So do you need help getting in, or are you just going to snarl at me too?”

  Knot grinned, showing impressive kitty fangs, then leaped lightly into the wagon. Judging from the distance between the ground and the wagon bed, he must have flown part of the way. Yet nothing surprised her about Knot. Keelie sighed and grabbed the rope and Sean’s extended hand. He pulled her up easily, then motioned her to sit on a suitcase as the others had done.

  The wagon lurched forward.

  “This is fun,” Keelie said brightly. “We’re starting off with a hayride.”

  Silence from the elves shut her up. See if she would try to lighten the mood again—if they all wanted to sulk, great. Keelie could tell that this was going to be the worst trip ever. Elia was watching her, but turned her face when Keelie looked at her.

  Keelie examined the passing forest. A huge beetle buzzed past, then swooped around and landed on the suitcase beside her. Knot looked at it curiously, but the others didn’t seem to notice it. The beetle stood on its hind legs and nodded its insect head at Keelie, its feelers waving around. Keelie nodded back. The feithid daoine were secretive and although she’d seen them frequently, she’d only interacted with them once, when they’d attacked her at the High Mountain Renaissance Faire. She’d been a little leery of them ever since, but they’d left her alone.

  This feithid daoine pointed up with one pincer-ended leg. Keelie looked up and was amazed to see that bhata were following them, leaping from branch to branch overhead. The forest was filled with them. Whoa.

  “We’re almost there.” Elia’s voice interrupted her. “I must say again that I hope you don’t feel slighted, Keelie. As a daughter of the soil and, of course, because of this”—she smiled down at her bulging baby belly—“I’ll be welcomed with utmost respect and joy.” She smiled at Keelie. “You are a tree shepherdess, of course, so you are due respect as well, but there’s that unfortunate, um …” She touched her pointed ear and glanced at Miszrial, as if pointing out that one of Keelie’s ears was rounded.

  Keelie rolled her eyes. “Fine. I get it. You’re the returning princess. I’m just the mongrel come to help out.”

  Miszrial’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t you guys watch movies?” Keelie asked. “It’s the mongrel who always wins in the end.”

  “We destroy mongrels,” Miszrial said seriously. “Among our animals.”

  Cold crept up Keelie’s spine. She knew she wasn’t being threatened, but the fact that Miszrial had said it so coolly meant that these elves were even less compassionate than the ones back home. She couldn’t wait to get back to the Dread Forest. This place was seriously creepy.

  A deer leaped onto the road, startling the horses, which jolted the wagon. As everyone grabbed the sides to keep from falling over, the driver struggled to regain control of the horses.

  The deer didn’t run away. He kept pace with the wagon, close enough that Keelie saw her reflection in his liquid brown eyes. His antler-heavy head bobbed with each leap.

  Who are you?

  The voice went through her head and into her bones, deep and rich like thick chocolate, and strangely familiar. She couldn’t move; her hand was frozen on the splintery side of the wooden wagon (pine, from the other side of this mountain). Who are you? she answered.

  Herne. Herne. Herne. Herne. The voice echoed in her head. The deer sprinted to the edge of the road, then leaped into the forest and disappeared.

  Herne. She knew that name. In mythology class she’d learned that Herne the Hunter was the Celtic god of the forest, the Master of the Wild Hunt.

  The Green Man.

  As if she’d been held in thrall by the deer’s gaze, Keelie slumped against the wagon’s side, her mind whirling with her discovery.

  Herne, in this forest. When had he left Great Britain, and what was he doing way up here? He didn’t seem scary this time, but she had felt his power. Why was he warning her earlier? What did he want?

  “Do not be frightened, Lady Keliel. The forest creatures often come close. They are naturally curious of us. The stag would not harm us.” Miszrial’s tone was condescending, as if the poor frightened human had never seen a deer before. She didn’t seem to know that this was not an ordinary deer.

  Elia shot Keelie a murderous look, which Keelie could read well: don’t embarrass me. The happy Elia who’d left the Dread Forest had been replaced by the paranoid, superior, snot-girl Elia. That was okay. Keelie knew how to deal with them both.

  Herne. At least she knew she hadn’t been crazy at the mask shop. That Green Man mask was Herne, and he’d spoken to her telepathically then, too. If one vision was real, then another could be real as well. Maybe that really had been Peascod on the side of the road. Things were getting interesting, and not in a good way.

  Elia was patting her hair and straightening her clothes. They must be getting close to the village of Grey Mantle. Two ancient trees flanked the road, and as they passed, Keelie felt their welcome like a caress on her soul. That was more like it.

  A stone-and-timber building appeared on their right, built in the familiar style of the elven homes of the Dread Forest, and then there were more buildings on both sides of the road.

  The wagon stopped in a cobblestone-paved square surrounded by gray stone buildings. Two silver-haired elves in long robes stood together. Keelie recognized the symbols embroidered on their robes; these were members of the Elven Council. Keelie was disappointed. She’d hoped Norzan would greet them, too.

  Elia’s eyes were bright as she stood up. She held her head high, like a princess, and walked to the edge of the wagon. She looked down at the cobblestones, which seemed to Keelie like a far drop.

  What the heck. She jumped down and held a hand up to Elia. She was her niece now, after all. Elia’s lips tightened, then she reached down and took Keelie’s hand in her own, her grip cold and tight. She’s afraid, Keelie thought. All the snootiness was a bluff.

  “Let me help.” Sean leaped to the ground and put his hands on Elia’s waist, lifting her effortlessly and setting her lightly on the cobblestones. Keelie was relieved, and not jealous. The thought of Elia splatting on the ground had bothered her.

  Miszrial hopped out of the wagon and walked proudly toward the two elders. She bowed low, sweeping her arms in a graceful arc. “Milords, these are the ambassadors from the Dread Forest. Lady Elia, daughter of Lore Master Elianard, Lady Keliel Heartwood, daughter of Zekeliel, Lord of the Dread Forest, and Lord Sean o’ the Wood, son of Niriel.”

  Keelie kept her eyes on the two men, but wondered what Sean’s reaction had been to the mention of his father. Since Niriel’s fall from grace, he didn’t even have an honorary title.

  The two Council members bowed their heads solemnly, and the three ambassad
ors bowed back. Keelie noticed that Elia’s bright, expectant eyes darted back and forth, as if looking for the hidden parade that would greet her.

  The taller of the two stepped forward, a beaky-nosed elf with a deeply lined face. “I am Terciel, head of the elven Council here. I welcome you to the Northwoods and to Grey Mantle. We are grateful to the Dread Forest for sending you to help us to resolve our troublesome conflict.”

  Keelie didn’t think he suspected just how serious it might be. Or then again, maybe he knew exactly who or what lived in these woods with him. How could anyone ignore Herne, the Hunter?

  “Lord Terciel, greetings from the Dread Forest.” Sean was acting as if Keelie were actually supposed to be standing there lost in thought. She owed him one.

  “Sean o’ the Wood, son of Niriel, we are pleased that you have joined us. You are the first of your blood to walk here since the old times.”

  Elia stepped forward. “I too bring greetings.”

  Terciel looked at her as if she were a bug crawling on his birthday cake, but he bowed his head. “Lady Elia.”

  Miszrial bowed to them. “Dinner will be in the Council building in an hour. You’ll have time to refresh yourselves. Allow me to escort you to your rooms in the lodge.”

  They followed her through the empty streets. Keelie felt eyes watching them from the windows. “Miszrial, where do you keep the rescue helicopters? I can’t see you guys running rescue missions from the human airport.”

  Miszrial smiled thinly, stopping at a two-story stone building with a small wooden porch protruding from the front like a tongue. “The helipad is on the other side of village, disguised as a barn.” She opened the door of the building and stepped aside to allow them to enter first. The inside was almost empty of furniture, but lights glowed high on the walls.

  Keelie walked up to one. Not electric, and there was no fire that she could tell. “What is this?”

  “Fairy lights,” Elia answered, before Miszrial had a chance.

  “I’ve seen these,” Keelie said, remembering. “Back home, in Under-the-Hill. Barrow’s house is lit with them.” Barrow was her dwarf friend whose parents owned the town hardware store. He was currently dating a water sprite named Plu.

  “I am not surprised that you have been Under-the-Hill,” Miszrial said.

  Sean tugged Keelie back when she headed toward the snarky elf. “Easy, tiger. She’s saying that to make you angry.”

  “Why would she want me to be angry? I’m here to help her.” Keelie watched Miszrial walk up the stairs that filled the center of the building, followed by Elia. “Grandmother Jo used to tell me that when people were mean like that, it was because they were jealous.”

  Miszrial was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. She motioned toward a door. “Your room, Lady Keliel.”

  Elia stood in the doorway next to hers. “Will tonight’s dinner be a formal meal?”

  “No, it will just be yourselves and Lord Terciel.” She bowed and walked to the next door, leaving Elia to shore up her crestfallen face.

  “Lord Sean, your room.” Miszrial pointed across the hall.

  Keelie didn’t have a reason to linger in the hall, so she went into her room. It was tiny, which was good, because the warm fire that burned in the fireplace kept the evening chill close to the sole window, which looked more like an arrow slit set deep into the stone wall. A bed with tall, thick posts dominated the spartan room. The only things that brightened it were a colorful woven rug next to the bed and an arrangement, in a glass jar, of twigs bursting with bright red berries. Probably poisonous to humans.

  An hour later, Miszrial collected them for dinner. Keelie wore one of her Ren Faire gowns, a long blue linen dress with full skirts and hanging sleeves that swept from her shoulders to the ground. Tight white inner sleeves covered her arms, and she wore her charms on a silver chain around her neck. Miszrial led them out of the lodge and along a leafy path which, as it scaled a small hill, became stone stairs opening onto a small plaza in front of the largest building Keelie had yet seen in Grey Mantle.

  “This is the Council building,” Elia said, breathless from either pride or the climb. “There’s nothing like this in Dread Forest, is there?”

  Sean glanced up at the pointed roof of the circular building. “No, nothing like this. Why is the roof pitched so steeply?”

  “To keep the snow from accumulating.” Miszrial smiled. “Although it’s not a problem lately. This year we’ve barely had two feet of snow. The bears have not slept, either, and they’re hungry.”

  Keelie tried to remember what she’d learned about hibernating bears, but drew a blank. She glanced at the dense forest around them and threw a quick message to the trees. Let me know if you see any bears near me, please.

  No bears are here, but the fae gather close, came the answer. The trees seemed to speak in a chorus.

  “Keelie, are you okay? You have a strange look on your face.” Sean leaned closer. “I won’t let any bears eat you, I promise.”

  Before Keelie could tell him that it wasn’t bears she feared tonight, Terciel appeared in the arched stone doorway, his figure darkened by the glow of the room behind him.

  “Greetings, guests of the Northwoods. Welcome to our forest home.” He bowed, and invited them in with a graceful gesture.

  Elia strode forward, pushing aside Keelie.

  “She’s like a kid in first grade who always wants to be first,” Keelie said to Sean under her breath.

  Miszrial overheard and gave her a frosty smile. “Lady Elia is a true elf, and despite her unfortunate choice of mates, she outranks you. May we speak frankly?” She looked Keelie up and down. “Many of us think it unwise that the elders have decided to summon help from outside, and disastrous that Lord Zekeliel chose you as his ambassador. We know why, of course.” She sniffed. “It can’t be helped that you are such a sad mongrel, and Lord Terciel thinks you may redeem your family’s name if you succeed.”

  “Redeem my family’s name? There’s nothing wrong—”

  Sean grabbed Keelie’s hand, encasing it in his, and she realized she’d drawn back her fist. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She’d never been a brawler. The girls of the Baywood Academy could be snarky, but they never had fistfights.

  Lord Terciel’s eyebrows rose. “Miszrial, please show Lady Elia to her seat.”

  Miszrial’s angry expression faded, and she bowed to the Council leader before slipping past him into the building. Lord Terciel turned to Keelie and Sean. “You must forgive Miszrial. She blames humans for the situation we are in.” His lips thinned out. If it was supposed to be a smile, it failed.

  Keelie went in, followed by Terciel. Sean closed the door behind them.

  Inside, a small circular vestibule with white plastered walls held doors leading to rooms. The spaces between the doors were hung with tapestries. Elia and Miszrial were admiring them, no doubt aiming their pointed ears toward the conversation.

  “So just what is the situation, Lord Terciel?” Keelie asked, then looked quickly toward Elia. The elf girl closed her eyes, eyebrows together in a frown. Okay, so it was probably rude to ask.

  Terciel eyed her sourly. “I shall fill you in as we dine. Shall we take our seats?” He gestured toward another room, which held a long granite table with uncomfortable-looking stone benches around it. Five of them had place settings in front of them, although there were eighteen more benches around the table.

  Elia stared at the five seats as if they were giant signs pointing out how unloved she was. Keelie watched her swallow hard and turn her face. Sean caught Keelie’s eyes and lifted his brows; yeah, he’d seen it too. Elia had hoped that a feast awaited them, a feast where she would be honored.

  A small, black-haired elf appeared at the door opposite them, a large wooden bowl in his arms.

 
“Ah, Saliel is here with our dinner.” Terciel waved them to their seats.

  “Where’s Lord Norzan?” Keelie asked. “I heard he was doing better.”

  “He’s still at the Hall of Healing,” Terciel said.

  “He is here.” A tall figure stepped through the door. He lowered the hood of his robe, revealing a handsome, unlined face and long, gleaming silver hair.

  “Norzan!” Keelie jumped up, lifting her wide blue skirts as she ran around the side of the table to hug him. He hugged her back, holding her close for a moment.

  “Keliel Heartwood. We could ask for none braver to help us in our time of need. And Lord Sean, how fare you?” Norzan bowed and Sean, who had stood up again, bowed gravely from his waist, then smiled broadly.

  “And Lady Elia.” Norzan walked to her side and took her hand in his, looking deep into her eyes with his unusual blue ones. “The very trees rejoice at your news, and greet the new life you bring within you.”

  Elia’s face shone and tears glistened in her eyes. “I thank you, Tree Shepherd of the Northwoods. You do me honor.”

  Terciel looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon whole.

  “I must take my leave to rest again,” Norzan said. “I hope to speak with you again before you travel to the High Court.”

  Keelie hoped her disappointment didn’t show. “You look much better.”

  “Good night, Lord Norzan,” Sean said, echoed by Elia.

  The tree shepherd left, and Keelie noticed how slowly he moved.

  They sat, Terciel at the head of the table with Elia at his right and Miszrial at his left. Keelie sat across from Sean, who didn’t seem thrilled to have Miszrial at his side but tried hard not to show it by making small talk. Elia was quiet now that her sole champion was gone.

  Saliel came forward and served each of them a portion of whole grain studded with nuts. It looked like vegetarian cat food.

  Elia’s eyes brightened, but Keelie poked at hers. Diplomacy did not look tasty.