Gillian Summers - The goblin's curse

“I will,” Sir Davey said. “Or I’ll take you to the dragon,” he mumbled to the goblin tree. Keelie caught the tree’s last thoughts as it was wheeled out of the way.

Dragon? Don’t take me to the dragon.

Keelie wondered if Sir Davey and Finch had something up their sleeves to get the goblin tree to cooperate. She’d offer to deliver Knot’s litter box later to use as a threat, but it, too, was a pile of ashes.

They stopped at Janice’s shop to borrow another lantern before heading to the elven village, which meant that Dad thought the meeting might last long into the night. Dad was silent, and Keelie thought about what Heartwood’s loss meant to him. The fine furniture he had built was gone, all his time and craftsmanship vanished in a single night. And though the apartment above wasn’t his permanent home, he’d lived there every summer for years.

She put her hand on his arm, and he tucked it into the crook of his elbow. She’d lost a lot, but she had her father, and last year, after her mother’s death, she’d thought she’d be alone forever.

Now she had Dad, and Knot, and Cricket. The little goblin was still missing, but Keelie kept her eyes peeled for any sign of him.

She glanced at Dad. Maybe if she said something, it would help alleviate the dreadful tension flowing from him. She didn’t know what the elves wanted, but a summons was always bad news, and, in Keelie’s experience, it usually involved some threat or a reminder that she wasn’t one of them.

Knot slipped ahead, dancing through the ferns.

“Dad, have you seen Cricket?”

He glanced at her. “In the vast pile of problems we’ve accumulated over the past few hours, a missing goblin does not register.”

“He’s just a baby.” Keelie was stunned by Dad’s reaction. Although she knew he blamed Cricket for the fire, Dad could have offered a word of comfort to her rather than a scolding.

Her silence must have given him a clue to her thoughts. “It’s a goblin,” he repeated. “It can take care of itself. It’s probably off in a garbage can, eating something vile. It’ll be back. Come on. We don’t want to keep our brethren waiting.”

The forest path turned to crushed stone, then flat stones set into the ground. They passed the first of the gray stone cottages where the elves lived while at this faire, a sign of how old the faire was. She remembered the first time she’d come here. She hadn’t been welcome then either, but now she knew more about her so-called brethren.

Sean stepped off a porch and onto the cobbled path. He greeted them, but kept his eyes on Dad with only a glance at Keelie. Her heart dropped. What was awaiting them?

“Follow me.” He turned and walked briskly to the communal stone building that stood in a square of lawn. Candles in a chandelier flickered above, throwing a honey-soft light on the wooden table in the middle of the cold and austere room. Several elves had gathered around the table including Elianard and, surprisingly, Lady Etilafael, the head of the Elven Council in the Dread Forest. What was she doing here?

Keelie had been right. It was a Council meeting, and she didn’t have a good feeling about this one. Not that her prior experiences with elves had been a picnic, but tonight’s meeting seemed extra somber. Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow or the next day, when they’d recovered a little from the fire?

“Good evening, Zekeliel.” Elianard motioned toward an empty chair. “Please sit. It seems this couldn’t wait, although I encouraged all to have this meeting take place during daylight hours.”

The jousters had lined up against the back wall. They all wore stoic expressions. Keelie knew these guys-when they weren’t jousting they liked to clown around with Sean, but here, under their steely and hard gaze, she felt as if she was standing accused of something. It reminded her of when she’d been taken before the Council on suspicion of using dark magic. She shivered.

“Evidence has been found that goblins are on the move, and that they are here hiding in and around the human town of Fort Collins,” said a voice from the shadows.

Chills danced up Keelie’s spine as she recognized the speaker. As if sensing her awareness, Lord Niriel stepped forward. What was he doing here? He’d been exiled, last fall, for his role in the assault on the Wildewood unicorn in a misguided attempt to protect the Dread Forest. Even though Niriel was Sean’s dad, Keelie couldn’t forgive the handsome elf.

Dad stiffened beside her, and he reached down to squeeze her hand.

Tonight Niriel was dressed in jewel-toned robes; it certainly didn’t look as if he had been roughing it on the road. Of course, he’d been living in Germany, where he’d been sent on a swordsmith exchange, so he probably had plenty of cash for nice garb.

He looked around the table, then spoke in grave tones. “Recently, I sought an audience with Terciel, the leader of the Northwoods elves, and he spoke of many disturbing things.” Niriel paused. “One is that a goblin army is on the move, and I have come to warn you that they are here.”

Etilafael looked around at the assembled elves. “Although Niriel was sent away from his home forest, he still strives to help his elven brethren. This grave news, on the heels of the attack in the Northwoods, tells us that we need all the help we can assemble. His diligence and his need to protect all elves have enlightened the Council. Therefore, we have decided to abolish his exile, reinstating him to his former status within our clan.”

Murmurs of approval circulated among the elves.

Keelie nearly swallowed her tongue. Furious, she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Niriel had been slapped on the hand, told he was a bad elf, and asked to behave nicely.

“What evidence have you found?” Dad asked, very calmly. His eyes were glued on Niriel, waiting to hear what words he would spout to worm his way back into the good graces of all the elves.

“During the months I’ve had to endure without my son, my home forest, and my tribe”-Niriel swept his hands around in a dramatic gesture-“I traveled to Portland, the human city, where rumors hold that goblins roam in large numbers. The diabolical creatures live in the sewers and exist on garbage, and now I have evidence they have spread, and are here.”

A sinking feeling hit Keelie in the pit of her stomach when one of the jousters brought a silver cage into the room. Cricket sat in the middle of it, chewing on a plastic bottle, oblivious to his surroundings. They placed him in the center of the table. All of the elves scooted back, expressions of horror flashing across their faces.

Keelie was about to run and snatch up the cage in her arms, but Dad blocked her with an outstretched arm. She cut her eyes over to him, and he shook his head.

“This creature does not seem threatening,” Dad declared. “Do you base your fear-mongering on this pathetic insect?” His voice was suddenly in her thoughts. Don’t react, whatever happens, Keelie. I’m afraid that if they destroy your pet, you will be next. His hand squeezed hers again.

Even knowing that Dad was just trying to calm the elves’ fears, Keelie felt a twinge of outrage. Cricket was not an insect.

Niriel walked around the table until he was directly across from them. “Lord Zekeliel, you have lost much because of the goblins. Your home here, your business-I would think that you would be the first to call for their destruction.”

“What is your interest in this, Lord Niriel? Or do you have unconcluded business from our last encounter in the Dread Forest?” Dad ignored the gasps around the table.

Keelie saw Sean wince, then carefully school his features. Why hadn’t he warned her that his father was here?