The Goblin's Curse (10 page)

Dad nodded. “It’s been a shock to the entire faire. Everyone wants to help.”

Now she’d lied to her father. Her home was a pile of smoldering debris. Keelie choked back tears as silvery smoke streamed up from the wreckage. She couldn’t believe she’d been put in this position. Strange, how the smoldering remains of Heartwood remained confined in a circle. And that Hobknocker’s, with its fragile paper masks, had been unaffected.

Hob stepped out onto the porch, cradling the potted goblin tree in his arms. “Here you go, Zeke. I admire your dedication to your plants.” He lowered the tree down onto the front steps leading to his shop. “Are you sure you want to take it tonight?”

Dad motioned toward Keelie. “Since the little tree is the only thing left of Heartwood … ”

“Yes, I missed it so much. I couldn’t spend another night without my tree.” Keelie sighed sadly, not faking, although her sadness wasn’t related to the angry and ungrateful beast of a tree.

The little goblin tree sent Keelie angry red thoughts.
You lie. You don’t care about me. Nobody cares about me.

She smiled at the goblin tree, Hob, and Dad to mask what she was truly feeling, which was to toss the treeling onto the hot embers.
You’re lucky to be alive. You’re going with us whether you want to or not.

Green-red anger seethed within the little tree. Keelie sensed the goblin taint flowing its sap like venom, slowly poisoning it with dark magic. She had to find a way to get it out before it got out of hand.

I know a secret that you don’t know, and when you find out, you’re going to die. They want you dead. All of them, for what you did.

She didn’t know what the little tree meant, so she ignored its ranting.

Dad picked up the tree and waved good night to Hob. “Thank you again for your help.”

“You would’ve done the same for me. I’m sorry about your loss, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it was Vangar who did this.”

Dad didn’t look over at the smoking ruin of what had been their shop and their home. “I don’t think it was Vangar who started the fire.” His voice weary. “We appreciate your help, Hob, in alerting the other shopkeepers to the fire.”

“Despite your generous spirit, Zeke, Vangar is the guilty party, and the other shopkeepers have complained about his forge.” Hob lifted his handsome face, and in the light glowing from within the shop defiance glinted in his eyes.

Hob definitely had it in for Vangar.

“Keelie, let’s go.” Dad’s voice was hard and crisp. One of the little goblin tree’s branches slapped Dad across the face. He didn’t flinch. Anyone who wasn’t familiar with trees would’ve assumed it was a breeze that made the branch move.

She followed Dad into the trees. She had no idea where they were going.

Once they were on the bridge, out of sight of the shops up the hill, Dad put down the pot and grabbed the goblin tree by its uppermost branches, letting the clay pot dangle over the edge of the bridge.

Shocked, Keelie opened herself to their telepathic conversation.

Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drop you now.

Go ahead and do it.

Was the little tree suicidal, pushing Dad like this? Had the fire driven Dad to the edge of sanity?

Her lantern swinging wildly, Keelie rushed over and tried to grab the tree’s trunk. “Stop, Dad. What are you doing? You’ve got to stop.”

Knot raced by and jumped on the bridge railing. “Meow!”

Dad’s look stopped her. “This tree has a choice. It can live, or if it wants to destroy itself, then I’ll make its wish come true. But it’s not going to take anyone else with it.”

Keelie didn’t like seeing her father like this. She forced herself to remain calm. “You’re scaring me, Dad. I don’t understand what you’re doing. Let’s take the tree to the elves. It’ll be safe, and none of them can hear it talking.”

“No! It will put them in danger.”

Keelie turned to the goblin tree, who pushed its face through the bark at her.

You stupid elves won’t figure out what’s going on, not before it’s too late.

She ignored it. “Dad, what did the goblin tree do that has you so upset?”

The treeling’s laughter echoed in her mind.
The acorn doesn’t fall from the tree. Hey Zeke—she can’t figure it out. I’ll tell you what, Keliel Tree Talker. Dear old Dad thinks that your precious goblin and little ol’ me started the fire.

Keelie inhaled sharply and coughed as if smoke had filled her lungs again.

“Keelie?” Dad seemed as if he’d suddenly come back to himself.

“I’m okay.” But the tree definitely wasn’t. “Is it telling the truth?”

Dad nodded grimly.

The goblin tree laughed hysterically.
Go ahead and toss me down to the river. I’ve always wanted to know what it is like to fly.

“Zeke, are you and Keelie okay?” A loud voice boomed from the other end of the bridge.

Keelie sighed with relief when she recognized Sir Davey.

“We’re fine,” Dad answered. “Stay back, Davey.”

“Folks said they saw you and Keelie walk toward Water Sprite Lane. Why don’t you rest at my camper?” Davey’s voice had a cautious tone.

Dad slowly nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

The goblin tree narrowed its eyes and chortled.
They’re coming for you. They’re going to get you and your mean cat, too.

She had to think. So much had happened tonight. Vangar had said he had been set up—could he have been telling the truth? Keelie decided to look into it. Right now, she had to defuse the situation at hand, because it felt as if she was being dragged to a place between madness and sanity. It was a fragile border.

seven

The stream burbled under the bridge. Keelie wondered if the sprite was down below listening to this conversation.

Even the
bhata
gathered in the trees had been silent as they watched the horror unfolding before them. A tree shepherd threatening a tree. She sensed their confusion.

“Dad, should we take the tree with us to the RV? No one will know it’s there, and its small enough to keep inside.”

The little goblin tree spat sap
. I do not wish to be among humans. They’re filthy and nasty, and they’re loud.

Dad tightened his hold on the goblin tree’s branches. “Davey, this tree is responsible for what happened to Heartwood. It could’ve killed Keelie and destroyed the entire faire.”

Despite Dad’s command to stay back, Sir Davey came onto the bridge, his hand smoothing his Van Dyke beard. “There are those among the shop owners who think the blacksmith might be guilty. How can a tree have started a fire?”

“With a goblin. This tree’s roots have grown in the goblin taint. Its green soul has been twisted to evil.” Dad seemed more angry than sad at the transformation of the little tree. “It worked with the goblin to start the fire.”

Good thing Dad hadn’t worked with her in the Redwood Forest. He would have wanted to destroy all of the goblin-affected trees. A whole national park.

“Dad, let’s just take the goblin tree to the RV,” Keelie said. “We’ll search for a calming charm in the Compendium.” Her voice trailed away and a wave of loss washed over her. The Compendium had burned. She didn’t know how she’d tell Elianard. He’d never get over it, and he’d blame her for its loss. There was no other record of the spells and charms the Dread Forest elves had used for centuries, and she wouldn’t be able to look for a spell to counteract the evil effect of the Red Cap’s blood.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said finally. “I’ll contact Grandmother and Norzan. As tree shepherds, we can work together to find a solution.”

She had a new idea, one she didn’t dare tell her father. Maybe the Shining Ones—the Fairy High Court—could help her find an antidote for the goblin tree. If she could keep it alive for that long.

Dad pulled the goblin tree back over the bridge railing and lowered it onto the wooden planks. It howled as its trunk scraped the railing. “Take the cursed tree, Davey, but watch it closely.” Dad straightened as if summoning strength to continue on.

“No need to worry. I’ll have others to help me keep an eye on it.” Davey eyed the little tree warily, as if it might sprout bat wings and fangs. “Doesn’t look menacing. Just a skinny little tree.”

Knot trotted onto the bridge and sniffed around the tree’s container. “Meow.”

Keelie used to think understanding “cat” was hard, but once you really listened to the vowel arrangements and tonal inflection, it was easy.

“Later,” she whispered.

Knot crooked his tail. It was a sign he wasn’t happy, but she didn’t need the added stress of dealing with Vangar.

She’d search around Heartwood for clues. There had to be evidence of how the fire started, and she’d start with a talk with Finch. Although they’d put the fire out themselves, without help from a fire department, the resident dragon and fire expert probably could tell Keelie something about its cause.

“Keelie, come with me. We’ve been summoned by the elves,” Dad said.

“About what?” Keelie asked. “If they’re offering a group hug, I’ll pass.”

“Not a hug at all. They’re concerned about the forest, and because we’re tree shepherds, we must hear them, no matter that we have pressing problems of our own, like being homeless.” Dad’s voice was laced with bitterness.

Davey lifted the tree and it began smacking him with its branches, but he simply tilted his head back, out of reach. He walked around the side of the bridge, where he’d left a handcart, and plunked the beastly tree into it. The goblin tree rocked back and forth as if attempting an escape. Keelie wouldn’t have been surprised to see it push its roots out of the confines of the container and take off running into the woods on spindly root-feet.

If you crash and break your pot, then I’ll replant you in Knot’s litter box. Think about it—cat poo on your roots. So calm down and go with Sir Davey.

Knot swiveled his head around and meowed angrily.

The tree quit thrashing.
I hate that cat. It sprayed me with urine.

Knot washed his tail, declaring his innocence, or at least his lack of concern.

Will you water me? I’m feeling a little dry after that attack.
The tree was acting normal now. Seems there was a fate worse than being dumped into the stream—Knot’s litter box was treemageddon. Who knew?

Dad shook his head in disbelief. “Miraculous,” he said, bowing to Keelie.

Keelie dropped a curtsey in return.

Sir Davey seemed shocked at the tree’s sudden cooperation, since of course he hadn’t heard the conversation in tree speak.

Keelie smiled and explained. “I threatened to plant it in Knot’s litter box. Keep us posted.”

“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.