“If you’re not going to sacrifice the girl, then I’ll eat her. Bones and all,” Avenir said in his deep, dark voice.
Keelie drew deep on the Earth magic. The rose quartz, cool in her hand, was a balm against the caldera’s scorching heat.
Vania turned away from examining Herne’s still form. “Bones mixed with magic contaminate the ritual. How many times do I have to explain this to you?”
The now-glowing rose quartz was a pink ball of light in Keelie’s hand. She fixed her gaze on Herne and realized that if the heart was still with him, he must be alive. She saw him nod imperceptibly. He was only pretending to be enchanted, and he’d understood her unspoken request.
She pulled on the wild magic through the rose quartz, and its pulsing light brightened from pink to blinding white. Avenir closed his eyes and staggered back to the edge of the rift. Keelie stared at Herne’s chest as she tightened her hand around the rose quartz.
Herne suddenly pulled the chain from around his neck. Vania gasped. Linsa’s heart dangled from his outstretched fingers. The wild magic surged toward it.
The heart healed all. Would it mend the rift?
Keelie looked down at Linsa’s skeleton. She reached for a femur, shuddering as her fingers closed around the rough bone. She held it and the rose quartz together. Herne nodded.
“For you, Linsa,” Keelie said. “And for all who have died this day.”
“No!” Vania screamed, running toward Herne, magic blasting from her outstretched hands.
Herne hurled Linsa’s quicksilver heart toward the caldera. Vania’s magic caught it and it rose, floating above the rift as if it weighed nothing. Vania made a pulling motion and the heart drifted toward her, but before she could reach out and grab it, Ermentrude rose from the caldera, spewing lava as she rocketed toward the ceiling. Her wings hit her former mate, and as Avenir tried to catch his balance, Ermentrude dropped down on him and pushed him toward the caldera. Keelie picked up a discarded sword and hacked at Avenir’s armored side, and Herne grabbed at the quicksilver heart.
Vania’s push of magic had left her drained. She fell back, and as she hit the floor, the bespelled warriors were released from the enchantment. Sean ran to Keelie, took the sword from her hand, and plunged it between two of Avenir’s toes. The dragon screamed, releasing his grip on the edge of the caldera. He toppled backwards into the lava-filled chasm.
Peascod had run toward Avenir, but he skidded to a stop as the dragon vanished beneath the lava. He looked back at Keelie. Hate flowed from his eyes, but he turned and started to run, his goblins stumbling after him. The fae and elven armies, still recovering from their frozen state, didn’t give chase.
Keelie had time to think about Peascod. She had to seal the rift, and seal it now, while Avenir was still in it.
She stretched out her arms and envisioned roots from far beneath the earth. Roots of the first trees, when the planet had been shiny and new. In her mind, she saw the roots pushing up through the wild magic and the aurora borealis pulsing with magic.
Keelie, wait for me.
Astonished, Keelie turned. It was Dad’s voice in her head, and now here he was, in battered armor and splashed with goblin blood, striding toward her through the gathered armies. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms. He grasped her tightly to him.
“My girl, my girl. I thought I’d lost you.”
Weeping, Keelie could only nod. She sniffed. “Dad, we have to finish this.”
“Agreed.” Zekeliel Heartwood, Lord of the Dread Forest, straightened.
Fala came forward, with a small, backward glance at his fallen queen. He was joined by King Gneiss and finally Norzan, who, limping, was helped into the chamber.
Herne waited for them by the caldera, along with Ermentrude—who was once more in human form, looking magnificent and really in need of a shower.
They moved together, in ceremonial silence. The thought hit Keelie that if she could talk to Dad, she could talk to the trees. Mentally, she reached for all of the trees growing in and around Big Nugget, Grey Mantle, and throughout Canada, and then farther away in the Dread Forest. She felt waves of the green energy flowing toward her.
Dad squeezed her hand. He knew what she was doing.
In Keelie’s mind, she saw the Mother Tree laughing. One of her roots reached out into the world. Light, and silver magic, and a thread of green magic all pulsed around the Mother Tree as her root stretched ever farther.
Keelie felt a different kind of green magic bolster hers, darker and older. It was Herne.
He gazed at the gathered representatives of their different races, and at the hundreds of witnesses behind them. Then he stretched his hand over the caldera and opened it, watching as the quicksilver chain glimmered out of sight, soaring down into the lava that formed the magical core of the world.
The Mother Tree’s roots now wove in and out around the chasm, aided by Keelie and Dad and Norzan. Herne’s power drove the magic forward and stitched the rift closed, like a doctor sewing a wound together. In Keelie’s mind, Mother Tree reached her branches toward the sky. As the leaves swiped Gaia’s Dome, the broken crack repaired itself and the ceiling became solid.
Exhausted, Keelie opened her eyes.
To her surprise, she found herself back on Big Nugget’s main street, crowded now with the armies that had been below. She watched as the magic wove stitches in the ground, like the kind Grandma Jo had created when she embroidered. The ground was merging closed, leaving only broken pavement where the abyss had been. The green magic seeped away into the earth.
Keelie tilted her head back and sighed with relief. In the skies above, stars twinkled and a crescent moon glowed in the dusky evening. No aurora borealis glimmered against the sky.
She looked at Herne. He winked. Keelie winked back, and the nature god seemed surprised. He turned to help Ermentrude, who was limping badly, and the two magical beings exchanged whispers. Ermentrude’s red hair was spilling down her back in a messy tumble, and her right eye was swollen.
Keelie felt a green tickle in her mind and heard the laughing of an old woman. It was the Mother Tree. When she looked back, several treelings had sprouted through the former abyss.
When the citizens of Big Nugget returned, they would be surprised to see trees growing in their street.
Keelie suddenly felt nervous. She scanned the area. “Where’s Peascod? And Queen Vania?”
“The fae have Vania,” Herne assured her. “They will take care of their own.” His eyebrows narrowed. “Peascod has probably returned to the hole he crawled out of. I must go and meet with the goblins he’s left behind, to see if they will serve me.”
“Are you just going to let Fala give Vania an aspirin and let her get back to her evil business?”
“He is King Fala now. And the fae deal harshly with traitors to the High Court. Vania murdered her sister. They will show her the same mercy.”
Keelie shuddered. “And the goblins? How can you trust them?”
Herne grinned. “I’m a god, remember? They worship me.”
“You are so full of yourself.”
His eyes darkened. “Heed me well, Keliel Heartwood. Our business together is not finished.”
Dad was standing nearby, so Herne only nodded and walked away. Darn it.
Keelie didn’t think she’d seen the last of Peascod, either. When she encountered his evil again, she would be prepared for the deadly fool.
The following evening, there was a celebration in the Council building at Grey Mantle to recognize all the brave elven warriors. Dad would be giving a speech. Keelie had slept all night and all day, awakening right before the party to find Sean being treated like a hero by the Grey Mantle elves and all the elf girls swooning over him.
Neither the fae nor the dwarves had been invited to the celebration.
Keelie had hoped for unity, but despite how the races had come together to seal the rift, everyone was still blaming each other for the rift in the first place, and for allowing Queen Vania to gather power unchecked.
When the party was in full swing, Keelie decided she needed some air. She left the building and strolled through the empty streets of Grey Mantle, Knot and Coyote at her side. Something moved in the woods and her animal companions rushed to check it out, leaving her alone.
Yesterday, she thought she’d die. Now she was bored and lonely. Maybe it was her human side that was so fickle, but she missed everyone. Herne had disappeared, along with the goblins who had pledged allegiance to him. Ermentrude had returned to her home underground to rest and heal from her injuries. The dwarves had gone with her, still singing war songs.
Uncle Dariel and Elia were already on their way back to the Dread Forest—Elia had wanted to return home as soon as possible. The Grey Mantle clan might be her relatives, but Elia knew where she belonged.
Keelie didn’t even have that. Although she’d been one of the ones to mend the rift, all the Northwoods elves were ignoring her, even Miszrial. It was as if they were under orders not to associate with her.
That didn’t stop them from singing a new song titled “Seven at the Rift.” Keelie had only been awake four hours and she’d already heard it three times. She hoped they choked every time they had to say “brave Keliel” as they named the seven: Norzan, Keliel, Zekeliel, King Gneiss, Ermentrude, Herne, and Fala.
“Really, you would think some appreciation would come your way,” a stag said, stepping out of the woods. “A parade. Maybe some solemn chanting. A boring dinner followed by boring speeches. But you only receive veiled threats.” Down by the stag’s hooves, a small spidery goblin chomped on a plastic soda bottle.
Keelie smiled. “They’re cute when they’re little.”
Herne’s brown soulful eyes sought out hers. “Wood sister, forest friend. I owe you much.”
He swiftly transformed into his human form. Long dark hair curled on his shoulders, mingling with the moss that trimmed his cloak. Antlers still grew from his forehead.
She liked the nature god/rock star look.
Herne leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek, as if she were his little sister. “I’ll be watching your back.” Magic glowed around him as he changed back into a stag, and the goblin climbed onto his back. With a last look at her, he galloped away into the forest.
Keelie smiled. Knot reappeared from the bushes and glowered up at her, as if he knew what she was thinking and disapproved.
Salaca stepped out from behind a tree. “I’m glad we court fae weren’t the only ones not invited to the party.”
Keelie jumped. “The fae don’t need help having parties.”
Salaca bowed. “Our new ruler wishes to speak with you.”
Keelie’s blood chilled. She remembered Herne’s words, that the fae dealt harshly with their own. Had he come for her? “Do you seek revenge?” she asked.
Salaca’s lips twitched. “No, Tree Shepherdess.” He turned and bowed to someone behind him. Fala stepped forward, dressed in silky blue robes.
“So it’s true. You’re the new King of the Shining Ones.”
“Yes.” Fala smiled at her. “I want to thank you for restoring the balance among us. Even though the rift has been sealed, some wild magic remains. The humans here will be ever strange, but the fae, dark and light, will be as brothers once more. Herne is once more welcome in the High Court, and we will help him to rebuild the underworld.”
His eyes flickered to a spot behind her and she felt Sean’s warm hand at her waist.
“Of course,” Fala added, “I’ll need a queen.” His eyes twinkled. “Know any powerful fairy girls?”
“No, she doesn’t.” Sean pulled her back against him.
King Fala bowed, and he and Salaca vanished.
“What did you do that for?” Keelie asked, turning to him. “Fala wasn’t threatening us. You totally overreacted.”
Sean’s eyebrows slammed together. “I did not. You know how dangerous they are. We can’t trust them. We had a temporary alliance, but now things are as they were.”
He must have forgotten the fae blood that flowed through her veins.
Taking her hands in his, Sean said, “Keelie, you need to decide what you want. I know sixteen years seems like a small number next to my age, but now that you know you will not live a mortal life, don’t play with my heart.”
She looked into his green eyes—elven eyes, just like hers. Their expression was earnest, but with a bitter flatness of hurt lurking just behind, as if he was preparing himself for the worst.
Sean had been her hero from the start. He’d never called her names or looked down on her for being part human. She touched her rounded ear. Was she playing with his heart?
Herne and Fala were not for her. She didn’t belong in this alien forest, nor in the High Court, nor Under-the-Hill. She belonged in the Dread Forest, with her family. Maybe with Sean, too. She stroked his cheek and kissed him. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, then drew her close to him. Keelie didn’t fight free of his embrace, although she knew Dad might be aware of it now that he could speak to her telepathically once more.
“Keelie …” Sean started.
“Shh,” she said, putting two fingers against his lips. “It’s the wild magic talking. Let’s discuss this when we’re back home.”
His face brightened with relief.
“Keelie!” someone called. Sean snarled.
“Keelie, where are you?” It was Dad.
“Out here.”
“Don’t you want to hear my speech?”
“Coming, Dad.” She and Sean walked back toward the Council building, holding hands.
Tomorrow morning, she and Dad would be leaving for the High Mountain Renaissance Faire in Colorado, where all her adventures had begun. She couldn’t wait to see her old friends—Raven, and her mother Janice the herb lady, and Tarl the Mud Man and his filthy crew of jokesters. Cameron, the birds of prey lady, would surely be there. And of course, Sean and his jousters would be coming too.
She glanced up at the tall trees that she’d never befriended, and the mountains that had been filled with dragons, goblins, and fae. What a place.
Dad was waiting on the broad path that led to the building. Keelie blew a kiss to the stag watching them from the forest’s edge.
“That’s Herne, isn’t it?” Sean glared at the deer.
“Yup.” She smiled at Sean. “Goodbye fairy drama, hello Ren Faire fun.”
Sean glanced toward her father, then kissed her. “I personally guarantee your good time.”
“Really?” She grinned. Oh yeah, she couldn’t wait to get to Colorado.
The next day, as they took their seats on the sleek twelve-seat Healer helicopter that would take them to the airport in Yellowknife, Dad warned her for the umpteenth time not to radiate her feelings while in the air.
“You don’t want to broadcast your emotions to the forests below,” he cautioned.
“Yes, sir. I’ll probably sleep the whole way, and I’ve still got the Compendium to study.” Lord Elianard would have a conniption when he found out that the book had stayed in her room the whole time, unread. Of course, now she could probably add a chapter or two to it.
Keelie jammed her backpack under the seat in front of her. Her spare T-shirt rolled out of the top of the bag and she stuffed it back in, then did a double-take. The pack’s plastic buckles were gone.
“Weird. Looks like my pack’s been mutilated.”
“Knot probably did something to it.” Stowing his bag in a compartment next to their seats, Sean didn’t seem concerned.
A splash of cool water hit her ankle and Keelie looked down, startled. A little b
lack goblin grinned sheepishly at her, the bottom of her water bottle still dangling from its shiny lip. She saw a chewed-up paper tag dangling from the goblin’s wrist, and reached down gingerly and pulled it up. The goblin let her stretch up its spidery little arm, its oversized hand tipped with impressive talons.
Take care of him and he will take care of you, the mutilated tag read. It was signed with an H.
“Missing buckles explained. He must have eaten them.” Sean was staring down at the goblin, eyes wide. “How are you going to explain him to your dad?”
Keelie sighed. “Maybe he’ll just be pleased that our woodshop will suddenly be tidy.” She reached for a candy bar wrapper someone had tucked into the seat pocket in front of her and handed it to the goblin, who brightened and munched it down.
The summer ahead had just gotten way more interesting.
About Gillian Summers
A forest dweller, Gillian was raised by gypsies at a Renaissance Faire. She likes knitting, hot soup, and costumes, and adores oatmeal—especially in the form of cookies. She loathes concrete, but tolerates it if it means attending a science fiction convention. She’s an obsessive collector of beads, recipes, knitting needles, and tarot cards, and admits to reading InStyle Magazine. You can find her in her north Georgia cabin, where she lives with her large, friendly dogs and obnoxious cats, and at www.gilliansummers.com.
Watch for Book III
of the Scions of Shadow Trilogy.
The Quicksilver Faire Page 25