Fala turned to Herne. “Was he one of Vania’s allies?”
“Yes,” Herne said.
Fala drew his sword.
Tavyn narrowed his eyes. “So you choose war rather than surrender.”
“The fae do not parlay with goblins.” Fala glowered.
A swirl of energy surrounded Tavyn. “You will. Goblins, attack!”
The goblins roared and leaped forward, fearsome weapons slashing before them.
Fala held his sword aloft. “Knights!” Fala and Herne led the charge for the good side. This time the odds were more even. Peascod scurried down from the roof and turned to flee, and Keelie bolted after him.
“Not so fast,” she shouted. “Like I said, you have something that belongs to me.”
Peascod whirled around and glared at her, the single bell left on his hat jangling discordantly.
Thrumming with energy, the branch in Keelie’s hand pointed itself toward the Compendium. She realized the finding spell she’d cast before was still working. Time for the next step. She took a deep breath and grasped the branch more tightly. “Return to me what I have lost.”
Energy from the branch flowed to the Compendium, and the magical book sailed out of the jester’s tight grasp and flew toward her. She caught it by the edge of the cover.
Peascod shrieked in rage, picked up a turkey leg, and threw it at Keelie. It missed her head by inches.
She had the Compendium. In shock, Keelie turned to Dad, who was running toward her. “I have the book!”
“Keelie, watch out!” Dad shouted.
Toshi was surging forward, a small knife in its hands, murderous intent in its eyes. As the puppet zoomed toward her, Keelie smacked it in the head with the Compendium. Toshi hovered back in surprise.
“No,” Peascod screamed.
To Keelie, it seemed as if everything was happening in slow motion. Peascod rushed past her to attack Dad. The jester’s bell rang out as they fought in a blur of arms, legs, and jester hat.
Toshi rounded on her. Dropping the Compendium, Keelie grabbed an abandoned goblin sword and swung it at the puppet flying toward her. She smacked it with the side of the sword, batting it away. Toshi recovered swiftly, and, knife outstretched, returned like a puppet arrow.
Keelie felt time slow as it drew near. She noticed every detail of Toshi’s tattered clothes, the painted eyes, the glint of the lethal little blade. With one swift move, she sliced off the head.
It fell, bouncing, as the puppet’s body flopped to the ground.
Dark energy flowed from Toshi like greasy smoke. It drifted toward Peascod, enveloping both the jester and Dad, hiding them in a dark shroud of noxious vapor. A loud gurgling emerged from within the miasma.
“Dad?” Keelie took several deep, ragged breaths as she picked up the Compendium. As she touched the book, a wind blew and cleared away the dark fog. Two bodies lay, crumpled together, on the ground. She didn’t dare think about the impossible.
“I’m fine,” Dad said, his face still in the dirt.
Relief flooded through her. Keelie clutched the book closer to her chest.
Dad pushed Peascod’s body off him. The jester’s decapitated head rolled away like a gory bowling ball, nose eaten away, mottled skin pale and pocked with oozing, infected sores.
Keelie’s relief was colored with the need for a hot shower and lots of antibacterial soap.
Dad stood up. His face was red, but other than that, he seemed fine. Stepping back, he breathed heavily, trying to regain his wind. Keelie blinked back tears and threw her arms around her father, clasping the Compendium and the branch as he embraced her.
The branch began to tremble.
Dad stepped back. “What is this, daughter?”
“It was a gift from Hrok, who said we may need it to get back to our own dimension.”
“Indeed.”
The battle continued all around them. The goblins numbered fewer now, as the fae knights and the army of shopkeepers and performers battled the remaining goblins. The dragons worked the rear, picking off goblins as they broke ranks to run away.
Blue and red blasts of magic glowed and burst over the magic maze, where Tavyn and Herne were battling. Keelie wished there was a way she could help Herne—he was a nature god, sure, but Tavyn was wicked and devious and wanted Herne’s job. Maybe part of Tavyn’s plan was to steal Herne’s power; she couldn’t underestimate him.
“Dad, I need to go to Herne.”
Dad put an armored arm out to stop her. “Herne is powerful. He can fight without your aid.”
The Compendium in her arms began to bounce as if it wanted to say something.
“I think I need to be there,” Keelie said, holding tight to the book.
Dad started to speak, but seemed to reconsider. He puffed out a breath. “I want to protect you, but it’s futile. You’re powerful enough to be of help. Let’s go together.”
They rushed to the site of the battle, which had moved out of the maze, near the candle shop. Melted candles and overturned candle stands were scattered everywhere, left in a mess from the magical tornado that had swept through. Tavyn launched a blast at Herne, who stepped aside; the bolt of dark, inky magic hit the side of the pub, leaving a huge hole in the wall.
Tavyn cut his eyes over to Keelie. “I’m glad you have brought me the book.”
“Keelie, do not let him have the book, whatever you do.” Sweat trickled down Herne’s face as he hurled another ball of magic.
The Compendium bounced in Keelie’s arms again, slipping loose enough for the cover to flip open. Pages flew, landing open at the Gods of Old section. An illustration of Herne filled the pages—the horned hunter, mounted on a fiery-eyed horse.
Keelie read, The nature god and all gods of Earth pull their power from the magical core of the planet.
But they were now in a different dimension, so Herne couldn’t refuel by tapping into the magical core of anything. Keelie suddenly realized that Peascod had been played like a puppet—Tavyn had always planned to fight Herne this way, and he was the one who’d planted the idea of another dimension in Peascod’s mind.
She looked again at the battle. It seemed that Herne’s powers were diminishing, while the goblin-elf appeared to be growing stronger.
The pages in the book turned.
Transporting to an Original Location Spell:
Secure an object from a living thing such as a tree, a flower, or even shrubbery, and place it in the ground. With this object and the power from the Compendium, the chosen one must visualize the original location and call upon the power of the Great Sylvus, the original author of this Compendium.
Sylvus had written the Compendium. Cool!
Keelie knew what to do. She lowered Hrok’s branch to the ground, placed her hand on the Compendium, and visualized the faire.
She’d never called upon a god before, but she would now. As Keelie pushed the branch into the ground, she felt for Earth magic, the place she had touched when calling on the forests. The branch vibrated. Stretching tall, it grew until it towered above her head. She smelled the spicy scent of Herne’s domain, but his energy was not hers. She couldn’t draw on it.
Dad’s eyes widened. “Daughter, what magic is this?”
“Sylvus’s,” she whispered. “Hold on, Dad.” She started to read from the book, supplying words that fit their situation: “Oh Great Sylvus, return us to our original home. Hear my cry. Hear my plea to return the faire and everyone within it to the Earth,” she concluded loudly.
In her mind, she saw a misty realm, and slowly, an image emerged of many hooded beings gathered around a circular hearth. She couldn’t see them clearly. She noted that some of them yawned as if they’d been awakened from a nap. Could these be the old gods?
She heard the deep-toned laughter of a god, one that was green-tinged and smelled of life. It had to be Sylvus.
Visualizing the High Mountain Renaissance Faire, Keelie recalled the many friends and memories she’d made there since arriving almost a
year ago.
A strong wind blew all around her, and the noises of the battle faded in the background. Keelie heard Tavyn shouting “no.”
Green magic filled her and the ground rumbled beneath her feet.
She heard a deep voice in her mind.
You have been chosen to watch the green of Earth. To be messenger and arbitrator to the gods of old and the magical beings of the new times.
Keelie swallowed. She didn’t need another job. Why me?
You are one of the chosen.
The chosen? Keelie didn’t know if that was good or not, but she didn’t think she should argue with Sylvus. But, given that he was the god of the elves, she wanted to make sure he didn’t do things the elven way, not explaining things and situations to her.
Could you send me instructions before you send me out to do something? I’d really appreciate clear communication.
You have the Compendium. Fare thee well, Keliel Heartwood, until we meet again.
Greenness enveloped her, and then she felt the furnace-like heat of Herne’s kingdom. She drew up great armfuls of it and tossed it, like a heap of rope, toward the forest god.
She felt Herne’s surprise, and saw his melting chocolate eyes see her. He knew what she’d done for him. And then she knew no more.
twenty-four
When Keelie awoke, she saw Herne hovering next to her. He looked worried. Dad’s face floated next to Herne’s. Fala waved at her from the side, his outfit sparkling clean as if he hadn’t been in battle.
She tried to sit up, head aching. “Why am I on the ground? Are we back on Earth?”
“To answer your first question, you fainted when you called out to Sylvus,” Dad said.
“To answer your second question,” Herne said, interrupting Dad, “yes, we’re back on Earth. You did well, Keelie Heartwood.”
“Keelie?” Dad asked. “Are you really okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Suddenly, she remembered what Herne had been doing before she fainted and looked around wildly. “Where’s Tavyn? Did you get him?”
“He escaped in the chaos when we returned to Earth.” Fala frowned. “But we will catch him in good time. Do you recall that Peascod is no more?”
She nodded, shuddering at the memory of his death, and then grabbed hold of Herne’s breastplate and pulled him toward her. “I saw the old gods, and Sylvus, too. He spoke to me, Herne.”
“They must trust you, to allow you to see them,” Herne said. He didn’t seem surprised at her revelation.
Dad’s face appeared above her. “What did Sylvus say? Did he answer the riddle of the tree ring’s focus? Or about Lord Mariel’s Compromise?”
“I don’t know about the riddle or any compromise. He said that I’m to be a go-between for the old gods, and for magical beings too.” Fala and Herne exchanged glances. Keelie couldn’t read what passed between them.
“Things are going to be interesting from this point on—for humans, fairies, and elves,” Fala said.
A helicopter flew overhead. “Have the elves come back to the faire?” Keelie asked.
“No, that’s the media. They’re our other problem,” Herne said. “Seems the human newsfolk arrived here after reports of dragons and goblins, and they saw the entire mountain vanish.”
Fala nodded. “Then they saw it return.”
The Compendium opened its pages.
Dad’s eyes opened wide. “Did you do that, Keelie, or is it moving on its own?”
“It seems to have a mind of its own, for sure. I can’t wait to tell Elianard.”
“News reporters are all over the place, asking questions,” Herne continued. “Even worse, Homeland Security. Once, when I took a human flight over the Adirondacks, my magic responded to the land and my antlers appeared. The air marshal on board was quite upset.”
Keelie bolted upright. “So the mountain is back where it belongs?” What if it had landed in downtown Fort Collins?
Herne nodded. “Once you jammed your staff into the ground, you collapsed, and the faire and everyone within it was transported back to Earth. It seems the Compendium augmented your tree shepherd magic, allowing you to return us to this dimension.” He paused, looking troubled. “Before that, of course, you opened the portal between worlds and allowed our armies to travel to the faire. Then you used the Compendium to tap into my magic from Under-the-Hill and link it to me.” Herne frowned. “Keelie, there may be an after-effect from such magic use—”
His words were interrupted by a woman with a microphone who rushed up to Keelie, followed by a cameraman.
“Honey, can we have a word?”
Keelie recognized the woman—Teresa Smith, the news reporter from a national cable news channel. Teresa tossed back her perfect hair and looked into the camera.
“We’re here live at the High Mountain Renaissance Faire, where we’re about to talk to an injured girl waiting to be transported to the hospital for emergency surgery.” She shoved the microphone in Keelie’s face. “Can you tell me what happened? The world wants to know what you saw. Did you see dragons?”
Here was Keelie’s chance to tell humans everything. Should she expose the magic? Before the battle, she’d wanted to tell humans about the magical world so that they could protect themselves from the goblins, but now, what purpose would it serve? If this hysteria was any example of what could happen, learning about magic would tear apart society. People would be afraid, and some would covet the power. She glanced at Herne, and then at her father.
Herne’s antlers had retreated into his skull, and Dad had pulled his hair back over his ears. Fala’s fairy glow was muted as he attempted to blend in with everyone else.
She saw Vangar and Finch in the distance, back in human form, rushing around trying to help injured people.
What would the world do with the knowledge that there were live dragons at the faire? She loved and cared for these people. If they wanted the secret revealed, then it would be up to the many magical races to make that decision. It wasn’t her secret to give away.
Keelie smiled. Guess they would have to call a Council meeting.
She looked into the camera. “I thought it was an earthquake,” she told Teresa.
The reporter looked frustrated. “Come on kid, you don’t have a brain injury. You remember what you saw.”
“There’s dragons and fairies all over the faire, but you don’t believe they’re real, do you?” Keelie frowned at the woman as if she thought she was nuts.
“Come on, Herb,” Teresa said. “There’s got to be livelier interviews somewhere else.” The two hurried off.
Dad dropped back to his knees. “Keelie, are you really okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Fala turned to Herne, his forehead creased with worry. “What are we going to do about this situation? Was this Peascod’s intent all along? Revealing the world of magic to humans will upset the balance.”
“Elves will be in peril,” Dad said. “We’d be an object of scientific curiosity. I’ve seen this behavior before, when humans are confronted with something new and different. Fear compels people of all forms to do dangerous things. At least the fae live in another realm.”
Okay, Sylvus. A little help here. Keelie searched the trees for a message from Sylvus, but there was no answer.
The pages of the Compendium opened. Talk about an answer from above. She remembered Sylvus implying that it was her instruction book.
Ancient Oblivion Spell:
Have you done embarrassing things at parties that you wished everyone would forget? Made embarrassing speeches at a Council meeting? This spell will erase selective memory and not harm the participating subjects.
Important note: If used to make humans forget, and if more than one race was present at the time of the gaff, all races must be represented at the time of the spellcasting.
Keelie smiled.
Thanks, Sylvus!
She stood and held the Compendium. “I think I have an answer to
our problem, but I need a dragon, an elf, a dwarf, and two fae—one dark and one High Court. Do we have everyone we need?”
Herne stood next to her as Finch, Vangar, Dad, Sir Davey, and Fala formed a circle near the Admin building. Nearby, reporters trawled the faire seeking people to interview.
Keelie stepped into the center and read the Oblivion spell. As she read, a pale gray mist appeared from beneath her feet and crawled to each of the members of the circle, who looked apprehensive but didn’t break ranks. When all had been touched by the mist, it expanded, then burst, and flowed like waves across the fairegrounds.
“Everyone will remember a strong earthquake,” Keelie said as she completed the spell.
She cut her eyes over to Herne. “I hope it works.”
The mist traveled through the faire, touching reporters, shopkeepers, and performers. A glazed look formed in their eyes when the magic settled on them.
Teresa Smith stopped nearby, her curious expression replaced by blankness. “What am I doing here?” she asked herself.
Finch winked at Keelie. “I’ve got this.”
Tarl the mud man walked up to Teresa. “You’re here to cover the earthquake.”
Several other High Mountain Faire folk joined them. “I was in my shop when all of my pottery went flying out the window,” Sam the Potter said. “I found one of Hob’s masks all the way down here.” He lifted a broken, bone-white mask, then tossed it on a heap of trash and wiped his hands. “Creepy thing.”
Finch joined the gathered group, and the cameraman swung his camera toward her.
“Can you tell us about the faire?” Teresa Smith held the microphone up to Finch.
Finch smiled. Her eyes sparkled, and she looked directly into the camera as the magical gray mist drifted around it. “Despite the earthquake here at the High Mountain Renaissance Faire, I’d like to reassure the public that the faire will be as good as new this weekend. The Middle Ages will be alive and kicking and everyone is invited to come join in the merriment.”
Teresa Smith nodded. “You heard it here first. The High Mountain Renaissance Faire will be opened to the public after the unusual earthquake that hit the Fort Collins area.”
The Goblin's Curse: The Scions of Shadow Trilogy, Book 3 (The Faire Folk Saga) Page 21
