The meadow seemed undisturbed. Keelie glared at Knot. “You brought me all the way down here, for what?”
Knot raced up to Hrok and Keelie followed.
Well met, Hrok. Everything okay here?
Hrok’s face pushed through the bark. Most certainly, Tree Shepherdess. How goes your faire? Have you met goblins there? We’ve seen them in their metal skin. The bhata have seen them too.
Keelie’s blood chilled at the words “goblin” and “metal skin.” Armored goblins? Finch and the elves had been right. Yet Hrok didn’t seem concerned.
Where have you seen these goblins? she asked.
They came from Under-the-Hill. The bhata will show you.
Keelie looked around nervously. The meadow seemed like an obvious location for an entrance to Under-the-Hill, but Keelie knew that the dark fae were wily.
Several bhata appeared from their nearby hiding places. The dry sound of sticks rubbing together, along with the crackling whir of wings, surrounded her. She felt a tug on her hair and put her hand up carefully to feel for the creature. She’d become used to the bhata, but it was still strange to feel one in her hair.
Her fingers touched something long and slender, shorter than a chopstick, followed by a fuzzy softness that she knew to be moss, which the bhata used to bind together their stick-and-berry bodies. She lowered her hand, not surprised to see the little bhata riding on it as if it were a fairy elevator.
“Hello, little guy. Any chance you can show me where Under-the-Hill is?”
The bhata ’s hands, made of grass seedheads, flew up to cover purple berry eyes. It chattered and backed away on her hand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve been there before, you know. Just not here at the High Mountain Faire.”
One berry eye peeked out from behind the improvised hands. The bhata seemed to consider her for a moment, then chirped and flew straight up. Others joined it, until the air was filled with the clicking sticks.
The little creatures hopped from branch to branch, flew, and skittered over the ground. Keelie followed them, stepping carefully to avoid crunching one underfoot. Not that it would hurt them-the sticks and moss were just what the bhata assembled for a physical presence, and Knot loved to chase them down and trash them. Apparently they didn’t mind, since it gave them an excuse to chase Knot down and try to disassemble him. So far, he was still in one piece.
The bhata moved faster, and Keelie and Knot hurried after them. They were heading through the woods that edged the faire and circling around to the performer’s campground.
She closed her mind to the trees so that word wouldn’t get back to Dad about where she was going. He would never let her go Under-the-Hill again, not after the goblin battle in the Northwoods.
The bhata whirred and clacked around her, and she realized that they were circling now, a buzzing vortex that was pushing her forward.
Ahead of her was the raw rock face of the mountain that towered over the faire. Keelie stopped. She was not going to go rock climbing. Not in her job description.
The bhata clung to the jagged rocks. A spindly pine grew from a patch of dirt about twenty feet up. Maybe it had some answers.
Hail, hill climber, Keelie greeted it. Trees liked to be given names.
Well met, Tree Shepherdess, the tree answered politely. Behind the tree’s soft words, Keelie heard a chorus of tree voices also greeting her. She considered ignoring them, but she might need their help to find Under-the-Hill and keep watch over the forests. Trees saw everything.
You honor me.
Be careful, the bhata whispered to her. Do not go in.
A large granite rock at the base of the mountain soared from the dense carpet of grass like a lone Egyptian obelisk guarding a temple.
It couldn’t be so obvious. Keelie glanced at the accumulated bhata and down at Knot. He ran to the edge of the rock, but the bhata stayed back. Why were they afraid?
Knot pressed his paw on a small depression in the side of the obelisk. A loud click and the stone levered back, revealing a dirt staircase cut into the earth.
A dark feeling of fear overpowered Keelie, but she reached for her rose quartz, tugging on a thin stream of magic to light it. Not too much-she didn’t want to alert whatever might live in this place. A slightly dank odor, like overgrown mold in a shower stall, grew stronger as she descended downward. The light grew dimmer. Keelie held the quartz aloft, and its soft pink shimmer illuminated the walls.
Mica glittered in the light. She touched the walls with her fingertips. Smooth. This area had not been carved by chisel. Knot wandered ahead.
When she’d lived at the High Mountain Faire last summer, Keelie hadn’t known about the existence of Under-the-Hill, or that she had fae blood. The elves didn’t know about Under-the-Hill at all, though they had lived above it in various locations for centuries. They either couldn’t see, or ignored, the dark fae.
She passed huge doorways as she continued down the tunnel, doorways big enough to drive a school bus through. A clink of metal on metal sounded ahead; she pulled back and flattened against the wall, trying to make herself as tiny as possible. Something or someone was nearby. Then the staggering scent of unwashed body nearly knocked her over. She’d smelled this before.
A goblin, taller than she was and wearing leather and metal armor, stomped past, never looking her way. He vanished into the darkness of a side tunnel.
Keelie’s heart was hammering in her chest. This goblin was huge-much bigger than any she’d seen in the Northwoods. Where had he come from?
She moved slowly down the tunnel again, her back to the rock wall. She kept glancing around, trying to make sure nothing was sneaking up on her. Soon a breeze tickled her face, signaling a large space ahead. Keelie moved toward it, promising the scared part of her mind that she would only look to see what was there, and then she would get out of here.
Knot rubbed reassuringly up against her leg. He meowed softly.
A boom vibrated through the rocks, followed by another one. Earthquake? Keelie knew she could get trapped down here. Her heart couldn’t beat any faster. Better to get this over with. She hurried forward, toward a muted roar that sounded like an underground waterfall.
She heard sharp clinking on rock, and knew that sound. She’d made it herself when she was at Baywood Academy, running across the parking lot in cleats. The metal striking the pavement made that exact sound just before she’d slipped and fallen. Cleats were made for firm footing on mushy ground.
This was the same sound, multiplied many times over. The roar built as she moved closer. Her lungs burning, Keelie stopped at the mouth of the dark side tunnel, then turned her head slowly and looked into the cavern beyond.
Goblins. The cavern was shiny with torchlight reflecting off slick, fungus-like skin where it wasn’t covered by armor. It looked like a war party of demons. A few of the goblins were like Cricket-glossy, black, and insect-like-but they were almost man-tall. And there was no waterfall. It was the goblins who roared, arms raised in celebration.
It suddenly occurred to Keelie that she’d done such a good job of blocking herself from the trees, so that Dad wouldn’t know where she was, that she’d also blocked her magical senses.
She felt the magic now, waves of it prickling against her skin. She had to notify Dad, but if she tried to use magic, the goblins might notice it. Or maybe her use of it would be hidden from them? Keelie suddenly craved fresh air. Her chest burned and ached as if it was being squeezed. Panic attack. She needed to get out of here now. What if they captured her and tortured her?
Knot placed his paw on her foot, and the waves of anxiety crashing in on her began to ease.
“Meow this way.”
Keelie fought the fear, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She was okay. They hadn’t sensed her yet, and if she could back out as quietly as she’d entered, they would never know she’d been here. In the cavern, the goblins were starting to bob and shuffle. Now was her chance to back out, while they were busy doing whatever they were about to do.
A familiar jangle made her freeze before she’d taken a step-the sound of a belled hat, somehow audible over the roar of the goblins. Peascod. It had to be. She edged back to the cavern opening and leaned forward to peek in.
The goblins were dancing now. Their squatting and jumping and shuffling would get them kicked out of any L.A. club, but it was definitely dancing. Were they celebrating?
Standing on a stone ledge, on the opposite side of the cavern, was a slender figure who seemed to be leading the dance. It was definitely male, or at least Keelie thought so, given the broad shoulders and slender waist-and mask. Keelie’s breath caught. The figure was dancing maniacally, and then he started to bang a big kettle drum that stood waist-high on the floor. The goblins bounced to his beat and banged their boots on the stone floor. The figure reached down, snatched something from the floor, and jammed it on his head. A jester’s hat.
Torches blazed into light around the cavern and the goblins roared their approval. The light reflected off the shiny mask on Peascod’s face. He began to pull it off, to cheers and cries of approval.
As Keelie leaned in, not breathing as she waited to see what Peascod hid behind his mask, a steel-covered hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her around. The goblin stared at her for a second, face tilted; then his lips skimmed back to reveal jagged yellow fangs.
Keelie wrenched free and leaped down the corridor, dropping her rose quartz. The next tunnel junction had to be ahead. Metal rang on stone as the goblin gave chase. Keelie’s knees were like jelly and her fingertips scrapped against the stone wall as she tried to keep her bearings. A guttural cry sounded behind her and she ran even faster, banging painfully into the walls in the darkness.
Words from the Compendium floated behind her eyes. Her breath came in harsh gasps as she tried to remember what they meant. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they’d come to her now. She started to say the words aloud, then paused. What if it was a get-your-socks-clean charm? Or one to keep mice out of your knitting? She recognized the elven word for “red,” but that meant nothing. It could be a charm to make tree leaves brighter in the autumn.
Hot pain shredded across her left thigh and she leaped in reaction, startling a grunt out of her attacker. Furious and panicked, Keelie yelled the words of the charm. A wave of heat pushed her forward, propelling her up into the air and smacking her sideways into the stone wall. Her right shoulder went numb, and her belly curled up in fear.
She fell to the floor, shaking and in pain. When she could breathe normally again, she realized that the fear she felt was the Dread-she must be close to the part of the forest where the elves lived, their protective spell somehow penetrating the soil beneath them and carrying down into Under-the-Hill. This place was scary enough without adding the Dread.
Since she no longer had her rose quartz, Keelie summoned Earth magic and wrapped its protection around her. The Dread’s grip diminished. The rock walls still thumped to the beat of the drum, but she didn’t sense any living creature nearby. She reached out with her tree sense.
Hrok? Are you there?
Immediately, Hrok’s comforting presence flooded her mind. I’m here.
Goblins. Lots of them. Need to warn Dad. She sat up, rubbing her shoulder, then paused. She could see, dimly; her connection to Hrok must be allowing her to see in the darkness.
Milady, you shouldn’t be afraid of the goblins. They are our friends.
Keelie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Knot slid in between her and the wall. His soft warmth comforted her.
A movement to her left caught her eye, and she froze. It was the goblin who’d chased her, passed out on the floor. He looked a little scorched, having been on the receiving end of whatever that charm had been. He moved again.
“Meow follow me.” Knot head-butted her, encouraging her to keep moving.
A chirp sounded from above her and she looked up to see a pair of inquisitive eyes looking down at her.
“Cricket!”
The little goblin jumped down and poked her sore arm. She batted his sharp-pointed fingers away. “Stop. It hurts.”
Cricket chirped again, then stopped and looked behind her, his expression somber. He’d spotted the big goblin. Did he realize that he was one, too? He dropped to the ground and went to explore his unconscious relative, then he turned and looked at her arm, his eyes troubled.
Keelie glanced down and gasped, feeling queasy. Her arm had two gouges on it, and her sleeve was stained with blood. She’d thought her arm just ached from hitting the wall.
“Come on, Cricket. Let’s go.”
She crawled around the goblin’s body and followed Knot up the tunnel. She flexed her fingers. They still seemed to work, which was good. They finally reached the dirt staircase and she eased up it, bit by shaky bit. There was a long moment when Keelie thought she would be climbing forever, but then she smelled the green of the grass near the obelisk rock.
She was already out in the open before she realized that her journey was over. It was dark outside now, but the sound of the crickets and the faint strains of a fiddle from the players’ campground finally penetrated her foggy mind.
Outside. Keelie took a deep breath and fell over, lying on the grass and watching the stars above. Knot plopped down beside her, and his purring presence filled her with relief and comfort. Cricket crunched on some rocks near her feet.
“Come on, guys, let’s get going. I don’t want the goblins to catch my scent.”
As they came to the bridge, a warm wave surrounded Keelie. It was not just Hrok, but the other trees in the meadow. Keelie could hear them all, but one in particular caught her attention-a longleaf pine who seemed to be speaking to someone else. Keelie realized that it was talking to her father.
She interrupted, using the pine’s connection to call out to Dad.
Danger, Dad. I need you. She sent mental images of what she’d seen Under-the-Hill.
Also, Dad, Hrok told me that the goblins are friends to the trees. I don’t know why he would think that; he knows what goblin blood can do to a tree. If the others believe this too, we have a big problem. Maybe they’re mixed up because the goblins are coming from Under-the-Hill like the bhata.
Where are you now, Keelie?
On the lane, headed toward the bridge.
A mental impression of a hug came from her father, and she sensed his worry, as well as a whiff of cinnamon.
She hurried on toward the bridge, halting when figures appeared out of the darkness on the other side of the stream. Keelie stopped, ready to run into the woods. She wondered if the goblins had come after her from another entrance to Under-the-Hill.
Moonlight filtered down through the branches and she saw that one of the advancing figures was tall, and the other came to just above his waist.
“Keelie?”
The relief that flooded her at the sound of her father’s voice made Keelie realize just how scared she’d been. She broke into a run and slammed into his chest, clutching his soft shirt and inhaling his scent. Sir Davey stood quietly next to her.
Dad’s big hand cradled her head and he murmured “There, there” while she sobbed, her tension eased by her father’s comforting presence.
After a moment she lifted her head. “There were so many of them, Dad.”
His worried eyes looked into hers and he grasped her face in his hands. “You are not to go down there again, do you understand? We’ll put guards at the entrance.”
Sir Davey nodded. “I’ll alert Finch. She’s said something about a magical shield. She and Vangar are working on combining their magic.”
Sharp prickles climbed Keelie’s leg and she reached down to pull Cricket from her jeans. Dad recoiled slightly at the sight of the little goblin, but he seemed to force himself to relax.
“Let’s go to my RV,” Davey said.
They walked back down the East Road toward the performer’s campground and Davey’s deluxe RV. Dad motioned to Keelie to be silent, and they said nothing as they passed the lights glimmering from tents and voices raised in song, oblivious to the danger just a few yards away.
In the RV, Davey turned on lights as Dad latched the door, then turned to Keelie.
Go away. Leave me alone, the goblin tree shouted in Keelie’s mind.
She’d forgotten that Sir Davey had taken it home with him. In the clay pot, huge chunks of amethyst surrounded the tree’s trunk. Sir Davey was using Earth magic to neutralize the sapling’s negativity. But it pushed its irate face out of its trunk and stuck its green tongue out.
Dad scowled at the tree. He turned back to Keelie. “On second thought, I want you to go back to Janice’s. You and Raven are to stay together at all times.”
Keelie frowned. “No way I’m walking all the way to Janice’s right now. Can’t I rest a minute? The goblins were really scary, and I hurt one of them, so they might think this fight is personal.”
Puny elves versus goblins. My vote is on the goblins. The tree sneered at them.
“I’m going to confer with the elves,” Dad said. “This will definitely propel them to make a decision.”
Davey looked up at Dad, his grim face shadowed by the lamplight. “What do you mean, ‘confer’? Niriel will stir up the elves with this information. That’s one elf I don’t trust.”
Dad shook his head. “The elves must know about the goblins. We can’t keep this a secret. The goblin army is indeed here, and Keelie’s found the entrance to their lair.”
Davey straightened. “I will call my brothers. The dwarves must know as well.”
“So do we tell the dragons too? Finch and Vangar?” Keelie asked. Ermentrude had kicked goblin butt up in the Northwoods.
“I’ll tell them,” Dad said. “You stay out of sight at Janice’s. There are those who will say that you’ve known where the goblins were all this time, and only chose now to reveal them to get yourself out of trouble.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Keelie said. “But what about the faire folk? The shopkeepers? Can we tell them? They’ll fight too.” Keelie imagined a scene out of an old monster movie, with angry peasants carrying torches and pitchforks as they stormed the castle.
“No humans.” Dad’s voice was firm-his “don’t argue” tone.
Outraged, Keelie was about to launch into argument anyway when she heard the trees crying out a warning. “What’s happening?”
Davey stuck his head out the RV door. “I smell wood smoke-it’s more than just camp fires.”
Dad lifted his head, listening. “Fire, on the other side of the hill. Davey, warn the others.”
The goblin tree began to chant. His tree voice creaked with malice. Burn. Burn. Burn.