Gillian Summers - The goblin's curse

“We’ve defeated most of the army. Peascod is in a much worse state than I’d realized,” Herne said. “Like random chaos-you’re not quite sure what he’s going to do.”

Finch and Vangar landed, and with a burst of flames, transformed into their human forms. They looked like a draconic biker couple in iridescent black and red leathers.

“Glad for the reinforcements,” Finch said, her red-gold eyes flashing at Herne and Fala.

“What a happy family reunion. Too bad it won’t help you in the end,” Tavyn declared as he walked toward them. Wild magic flowed in and around him like a captive cirrus cloud.

Fala sneered disdainfully at Tavyn. “Who is he?”

“A goblin-elf hybrid,” Herne explained. “He magically enslaved Peascod when I sent him out into the human world.”

“I am no longer magically enslaved to him,” Peascod called down. His eyes blazed with crazed fury, and he was still clinging to the Compendium. Keelie knew she had to get it, and soon, before the jester did something destructive to it. Hrok’s branch twitched in her hand as if it was coming awake, or reacting to the magic.

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!