Gillian Summers - The goblin's curse

The next morning, Keelie slipped out early to grab tea and muffins from Mrs. Butters’ shop. The place was practically deserted without the early rising jousters.

“Your father’s gone to see Sir Davey,” Janice said when Keelie returned. “He doesn’t look well.”

“Alone?” Keelie set out a couple of muffins and abandoned the tea on the table. “I brought breakfast. Gotta go.”

She raced through the faire’s lanes. She spotted Dad at last leaning against Sir Davey’s RV. His face was pale, with sickly green undertones.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, forcing the panic of out her voice.

“I feel the enchantment becoming stronger, trying to take over-I feel the need to leave with the elves. It’s as if I’ve been infected with something.”

“We need to get that talisman,” Keelie said. She helped Dad inside.

It seemed very quiet, considering the goblin tree was there.

“Davey?” Dad called from the doorway.

No answer.

Dad dropped into one of the recliners by the door.

Keelie heard a moan from the bedroom and walked silently toward the back, apprehension slowing her steps.

Sir Davey lay on the floor, unconscious, blood pooling around his head. Was he dead?

Keelie ran to kneel at his side. “Dad, over here! Sir Davey?” She touched his arm. Please be alive.

Dad staggered in and yanked off one of Sir Davey’s boots. He grabbed the foot, in its sparkly amethyst-colored sock.

Keelie raised her eyebrows.

“I need to check his vitals, and a dwarf’s pulse beats strongest in the soles of his feet.”

Sir Davey moaned and Keelie let out the breath she’d been holding, relieved when Sir Davey moved his hand and tried to sit up.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

Dad propped Sir Davey up against the wall. The dwarf opened his eyes, then moaned and closed them again, pressing a hand against the wound on his forehead. “I didn’t see them-they hit me upside the head with a heavy object and took that tree before I could stop them.”

“The goblin tree has been stolen?” Keelie scanned the interior of the RV, although she didn’t know what she was searching for. A trail of potting soil?

“Who’d want it?” Dad shook his head. “We’ll find it later. We need to treat your wounds.”

Keelie wet a clean washcloth in the bathroom and found bandages and some of Janice’s herbal healing salve in the cabinet.

Once she’d bandaged his head, Dad helping out, Sir Davey sat down in the diner-style booth in the kitchen.

“I’ll make coffee,” Keelie said.

“Please.” Davey shook his head as if to clear it.

“Make me some tea.” Dad lowered himself across from Sir Davey.

As she prepared the coffee, Keelie reached out telepathically to Hrok. He might be able to sense the goblin tree.

Hrok?

Yes, milady.

Someone has injured Sir Davey and stolen the aspen sapling.

Oh dear. Whoever has that tree doesn’t know what they’re in for. Hrok seemed amused.

We have to find it. Alert the trees.

I will, Daughter of the Forest.

Once the coffee had finished brewing, Keelie poured Sir Davey a cup and brought it to him. “Thanks, lass.”

She placed a cup of chamomile tea in front of Dad, and he nodded his thanks. She poured coffee and sat down with them in the circular booth.

“I alerted Hrok about the missing goblin tree,” Keelie said.

“It will be interesting to discover who has taken it.” Dad grasped the cup in his thin fingers. “Davey, I need some sort of talisman. I’ve been enchanted, and we think it’s Niriel’s doing.”

Davey scowled. “I’ve always known that elf was a bad seed.”

Dad sipped his tea, then lowered the mug. “The first group of elves have already left, and the others are awaiting the return of the helicopters.”

Sir Davey looked up. “So much for waiting several days before making a decision.”

“I cast the deciding vote to leave, under magical influence. It seems my vote carries more sway than those of other Council members,” Dad said.

“Sean hasn’t left yet. The trailers just arrived for the horses.” Keelie chewed on her lip.

A frantic and rapid-fire knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Keelie’s heart thumped against her rib cage.

Sir Davey rose cautiously, his hand pressed against his bandaged head.

“Expecting company?” Keelie asked.

“No.” Sir Davey opened the door, and to Keelie’s surprise, Knot rushed inside the RV followed by Sally the tarot reader. Her face was rosy red, as if she had jogged all the way from Equus Island. She looked like she was already having a bad day.

“I’ve read the cards seven times, and they reveal the same thing each time. It’s scaring me,” she gasped. Her wild eyes flickered over toward Sir Davey, taking in his bandaged head. “The cards have shown me what is coming.”

“We can stop the goblins, but everyone is going to have to work together.” Dad used the same soothing tone of voice he used on the trees.

Sally arched an eyebrow. “You really believe that?”

“We have to. Tell us what the cards have shown.” Dad motioned toward the table.

It was good to have good ol’ Dad back where he belonged. Keelie vowed to make sure he had a protective talisman shielding him at all times.

Knot hopped onto the table and lapped some of Sir Davey’s coffee, as if it would calm him. Sir Davey ignored the cat. Sally sat down in the booth across from Keelie.

Knot walked over to Keelie, leaving paw prints on the table. “Meow tell her what you told me.”

“You’re talking to Sally?” Keelie asked, shocked.

“Meow.” He nodded.

Sally laughed. “I talk to faire cats all the time, though not like with your fairy cat here. It’s the horses you need to worry about. Total airheads.” With a quick movement, she removed a purple bag embroidered with dragons from inside the deep, pocketed vest she wore. She carefully placed the bag on the table, then opened it to reveal her tarot deck from the Quicksilver Faire.

Earlier, there had been dragons on this deck, and some had resembled Finch and Vangar, but now the deck had goblins and wizards. Sally shuffled the cards like a Las Vegas card dealer.

Keelie gazed at the cards curiously as Sally spread them out, face up. “Did you get a new deck?” she asked. The images of goblins on the cards looked like the ones she’d seen Under-the-Hill. Dad’s eyes met hers, reflecting worry. He studied the cards.

“I didn’t.” Sally placed three cards face down. “Turn them over.”

Chills skipped down Keelie’s back as she flipped over the first card.

The first card was the Fool card-it was a jester, but not just any jester. This one was Peascod, with Toshi on his hand.

Sally nodded encouragingly. “The second one.”

It was the nine of swords-a battle scene with goblins attacking a festival that appeared to be the High Mountain Renaissance Faire. People were running for their lives in the background. Keelie felt sick to her stomach. This was what could potentially happen at this faire if the goblins attacked. She’d warned Dad that the humans were in danger, and this card showed that her fear was well-founded.

She didn’t want to turn over the third card. But she did, with trembling fingers. It showed a goblin dressed in armor, magic flowing from his hands toward a cowering, masked jester begging for his life. This was almost encouraging.

The jester was Peascod. But who was the armored goblin?

“What does this mean?” Keelie asked. All of the images scared her.

Sally turned the tarot deck over, and now all of the cards contained the armored goblin, in the same scene, over and over.