“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.
eleven
Davey threw himself out of the RV and disappeared into the campground, his cries of “Fire!” cutting through the merriment.
Dad leaped out of the RV after him and ran to a large, military-style lodge-tent next to them, calling out, “Fire!” He ran on to the next tent as Tarl and his friends poured out of the lodge, tankards in hand, sniffing the air.
Dad ran back to the RV. “To Janice’s, Keelie,” he yelled, then raced up the road as Tarl’s men spread the alarm. In seconds, the spaces between the tents were full of faire workers who’d dropped their meals, guitars, and books to help.
Davey returned and grabbed a fire extinguisher from under a cabinet, which he handed to Keelie. “Take this to Janice. Not sure if she has one, and I have an extra.”
Keelie stared at the fire extinguisher. If the fire wasn’t controlled early, it would turn into a monster like the
