The Quicksilver Faire Part 14

When speaking to dragons, utilize utmost respect, and know that the dragon will not be fooled.

She looked at Herne, reminding herself that even if he wasn't like the Shining Ones, he was still a fairy.

"Why are you helping me?"

Herne stared at her. "You asked for my help and said we must all work together. This is the key that you can use, because dark fae magic flows through you. It's time you met others of your kind."

Her kind? A little magic did not make her kin to the dark fae. "I hardly think-"

The coc.o.o.n of leaves shielding them from the world disappeared, and the colors of the aurora borealis undulated strangely against the bright sky. Keelie's head began to whirl.

Herne reached for her. "Steady. Call upon the fae magic within you to control how you see things."

"I'm not going to Under-the-Hill." She'd had enough tours of fairyworld to last her quite a while. She felt a homesickness for the Dread Forest surge through her.

"It will open your eyes to another layer of the world and help you see things from a different perspective, which is what we're all going to need if we're going to repair the rift."

Yes! Herne's power would be a great help. Keelie didn't want to go with him, but when she closed her eyes, she saw the gaping wound in Gaia's Dome that protected Earth from s.p.a.ce. The planet seemed so vulnerable. She could not walk away.

She met his warm gaze. "I'll come with you."

"Spoken like a brave fairy." Herne reached for her hand, and she placed hers in his.

When she looked up at him, his eyes had darkened. She turned away. She had seen Sean stare at her with the same intensity, and she knew it meant that Herne was interested in her. He was a being of power and magic, and he found her attractive.

She liked it.

Maybe the tea had bewitched her, or the fairy magic within her was calling to him. Whatever it was, she found Herne incredibly handsome.

"Are you ready?" His voice was a forced whisper.

"Yes."

A sharp jangling of discordant bells interrupted them.

Peascod spun up from underneath the ground, dirt spewing everywhere, spattering them with pebbles.

The Lord of Under-the-Hill didn't seemed pleased with his jester.

Peascod's burning glare bore into Keelie. "Insolent faker. Mongrel. You dare seduce my king? My liege, you must not take this creature to my realm."

"Your realm?" Herne said softly. Then his face reddened and flames erupted in his eyes, flickering against the black. "You dare speak so to me?"

Keelie stepped back, ready to run. She'd known Peascod was dangerous, but not that he was stupid enough to confront Herne.

"Yes, I dare. You've never listened to me when I've advised you." Peascod juggled his gla.s.s spheres and threw one up into the air. Light surrounded it, and in the deep reflection of the gla.s.s, Keelie saw the image of a beautiful woman who resembled Queen Vania. Princess Linsa.

Herne inhaled sharply and his face paled. "You dare show this to me."

Peascod laughed behind his mask. "You allow your desires and feelings to interfere with your role as our king," he hissed. "Yes, I question your decisions. Many of our brethren gather in the human town waiting to hear your orders, yet you call them rogues. We're ready to claim the power that is rightfully ours. We have been held in submission by the High Court for thousands of years-now it is time to rebalance the world. If you bring the mongrel elf-lover Keliel to Under-the-Hill, then we'll know that our king does not support us.

Herne seemed to grow taller as he looked down contemptuously at the jester. "These goblins are not mine. They are rogues indeed, the wild things of the cities of men. You have gathered them in my name, but they obey you, and have offered me no fealty."

Peascod juggled on, but his eyes seemed to narrow. He turned his angry gaze to Keelie, then back to his former master. The scrying sphere descended, and the jester didn't attempt to catch it. It landed on the hard, cold ground and shattered, the image of the woman exploding into many jagged images. Herne dropped to his knees and stared disbelievingly at the woman's face, reflected over and over in the shards. He picked one up, and in a soft whisper spoke her name.

Then, tilting his head back, Herne lowered his cloak and it dropped to the ground like cloth wings. His cry of pain shredded Keelie's heart.

She feared for her life. If Herne lashed out in his grief, and Peascod, who was just as dangerous, reciprocated, she'd die right here. She didn't know where to run. She reached out to the trees.

Can you hear me?

Yes, Lady Keliel. We hear you. Your heart beats fast. We hear it all through our sap.

I need your help. Lend me your magic.

A wave of green magic enveloped her, creating a shield. She could feel the power flow through her body, awaiting her summons. She would defend herself, and she would return to Dad, to Grandmother, and to Sean.

Peascod looked at her, raw hate poisoning his gaze. He pointed at her with the needle-sharp fingernail of a goblin. "She will bring this pain to you again, Your Majesty. She will make you feel a mortal's death. You can't let it happen again." His tone was smug, confident that he'd convinced his lord of Keelie's evil plans.

Herne reached down for his cloak and draped it around his shoulders, then stood with slow, precise movements. He didn't look at Keelie. He didn't look at Peascod. Abruptly, the Lord of the Dark Fae spun around, his cloak whipping out, making him look like Lord Death coming to collect for his realm. He waved a hand and Peascod was lifted from the ground and held in midair, face up, so that his limbs flopped awkwardly from their sockets. His two remaining gla.s.s spheres dropped and clattered against each other on the ground like oversized marbles.

"Please, Lord Herne, I speak the truth. Do not hurt me. It is the elf girl that does this to you," Peascod yelled.

"You dare show Linsa's image to me? You invade my lands with rogue goblins, then dare suggest you need more power?" Herne rasped in anger. He reached out and grabbed Peascod by the throat. Dark mists of magic seeped from the ground, rising to encircle and bind the jester so that he couldn't move his arms. He dangled his legs back and forth like a puppet as he struggled to free himself. His eyes bulged, and the green veins in the whites of his eyes grew larger.

Although Peascod deserved to be punished, Keelie didn't want to see him strangled to death. On the cop movies she'd watched on television with Mom, hostage negotiators remained calm and kept a neutral tone of voice. "Lord Herne," she said gently.

"Keliel." Herne seemed to return to the present. He tightened his grip on Peascod, whose eyes bulged even bigger. He wrapped his hands around Herne's, trying to pry them off his neck.

He wasn't kicking out as much now, and Keelie could tell that if she didn't stop Herne, Peascod wouldn't be long for this world. She walked up to him and touched him on the shoulder, trying to quell her shaking. "Let him go. He's not worth it. You don't want his blood on your hands."

"He would have me kill you," Herne said. He squeezed Peascod's neck even tighter. It was now a lovely shade of purple and brown. When asphyxiated, goblins must turn brown from lack of oxygen.

Keelie looked down at the image of the woman in the crystal shard. She lifted her hands up to Keelie, as if beseeching her to stop Herne. Keelie picked up the fragment, and held it in her palm, then held it out to the dark fae lord. She was taking a big risk, but it felt right.

"Linsa wouldn't want you to kill Peascod."

Herne slowly turned his head, and his black eyes filled with b.l.o.o.d.y tears as he gazed at the shard. Like an animation, the image of Linsa smiled and nodded at him.

Herne closed his eyes. Red tears trailing down his face, he dropped Peascod to the ground, where he lay, writhing and gasping for breath. The fairy lord took the gla.s.s shard, and the image of Linsa smiled. Then it faded, leaving behind empty broken gla.s.s.

Silence blanketed the area, broken only by Peascod's ragged breath.

"She was very beautiful," Keelie said softly.

"I never thought I would love. Five hundred years was too little time with her." Herne turned, his face a mask of forced concentration. It was as if the tears and pain she'd seen seconds ago had been packed away, deep in a hidden chamber of his heart. "Don't be surprised, Keliel Heartwood. The fae can love and lose just as humans and elves can. Pain is not exclusive to mortals."

"Lord, forgive. Forgive, forgive," Peascod beseeched as he crawled toward Herne.

The dark lord blasted the jester with silvery waves of magic, propelling him back ten feet. Peascod hit a beech tree's trunk with a loud thud, and the snap of a cracking bone made Keelie wince. "Milord!" She placed her hand on Herne's shoulder.

As if sensing what she was about to suggest, Herne looked down at her. "He would have had me kill you to further his plans. Would you not have me do the same to him?"

Keelie shook her head. "No."

Peascod lifted his head and spat at her. "I don't want your human charity. You're below me."

"Do not speak to her like that." Herne lifted his hand.

"Do not banish me from your sight, my lord, I am the only thing saving you from this madness." Peascod rose to his knees and cradled his limp arm, which hung from his shoulder like a well-worn dishrag. "You must see reason."

"Reason?" Herne laughed. "You have acted out my suspicions, Peascod. If I were to let you stay, then my kingdom would be in danger. Bringing Keliel here will save us all. From this day forward, you are banished from my sight and from Under-the-Hill, never to return."

Peascod glared at Herne, and an understanding pa.s.sed between them. Keelie didn't know what it was, but it was apparent that a conflict had been building between them for a while now. She was only the catalyst that prompted the banishment; still, she wasn't comfortable with that idea.

"You can't banish me, milord. Under-the-Hill is my home. I will be doomed to roam the Earth without home or clan." Peascod got to his feet, still cradling his arm.

"Then you will feel the pain of its loss for the remainder of your days upon Earth." Herne motioned for Keelie to join him.

"You would send me away for her? For a mere human, so she will be your consort?" Peascod spoke each word with venomous hate.

Consort? Keelie racked her brain for the definition. She'd heard that word. Where? It wasn't a car ... then the image of a woman dressed in a tight, revealing corset at the High Mountain Faire came to mind. She had been introduced as the king's mistress. The king's woman. Whoa.

Keelie was sixteen. She wasn't ready to be any man's consort.

Peascod stumbled closer, his face lined with pain and anger. He glowered balefully at Keelie. "This is all your fault. You will pay for your interference. If I were you, Keliel Heartwood, I would sleep with one eye open, because I will always be near you."

She stared at him. "I'll be waiting for you." She tried to sound brave, although she was so scared she wanted to pee in her pants. The green magic within her wove a shield as fear pulsed through her body.

The trees whispered to her. Lady Keliel we are here for you.

Wait. Let me know where the jester goes. I want all the trees to watch for him.

Yes, Tree Shepherdess.

Herne raised his hand, but before he could summon his magic, Peascod spun round and round, and descended back into the ground. Keelie hoped he would tunnel his way into the depths of h.e.l.l, from where she was certain he came.

The discordant jangle and Peascod's voice echoed in her mind. Till we meet again. Enjoy what's left of your life. It will be short.

His threat seemed real. She turned to Herne, who offered her his hand. "Come with me to Under-the-Hill," he said.

Keelie could see the shimmers of magic rolling off him. In the back of her mind she heard herself say no, that she had to go back to Grey Mantle, to Sean, but she could not speak. Herne waved his cloak and, like a storm cloud, it billowed out behind him and shrouded her in its voluminous material.

And when he took her into his arms, everything went dark.

Air whooshed past her ears. Keelie wrapped her arms around Herne, eyes closed against the hot wind, struggling to keep upright as the ground vanished beneath her. The darkness intensified her fear, and she screamed. Then, with a lurch, she was on solid ground again. But was it just a ledge? She kept her eyes shut tight.

m.u.f.fled against him, she could feel only his powerful arms and the woodsy scent of his clothes. She grasped the back of his leather jacket, just in case.

"We're here, Keliel," Herne said in a soft voice. "Open your eyes and behold the wonders of Under-the-Hill."

Still reeling from the wild ride, Keelie held tighter, trying to find a better handhold on the solid wall of his back muscles. "I don't think so. I'm okay with my eyes closed."

"Much as I'd enjoy carrying you, you'll need to walk."

At the thought of being carried by Herne, Keelie's eyes flew open. She was enjoying his muscular presence a bit too much. What had gotten into her? She stepped away from him and looked, amazed, at the vast world before her. A dim, reddish light, the eternal dusk of Under-the-Hill, illuminated rolling plains and rocky hills, with roads cutting through them and sometimes disappearing underground. In the distance, a dark castle with burning towers illuminated the area with its bright flames.

The air was rich with a dank, musky scent, part wet soil, part vegetable rot, with a faint reminder of the reptile house at the zoo. She moved away from Herne, as if distance would help her control her thoughts and feelings. She missed Knot, who would have clawed and drooled on her if she was glamoured. Some guardian he'd turned out to be. Here she was, being tempted by Herne, and she was on her own. She would have to protect herself against her desires.

Keelie blinked in the dim light, wondering, as she had in Under-the-Hill in the Dread Forest, how creatures lived their whole lives below ground. She didn't think she could stay in this dusky realm for very long. She had too much elf in her. She needed the sun.

Cold air brushed against her skin and Keelie wrapped her arms around herself. Far away, she could see what seemed to be tall dark trees, their branches reaching upwards although there was no sun to warm them. She threw her tree sense toward them. The energy that touched her in return was not the familiar green energy connected to light. It was Earth magic. Deep, deep Earth magic. She could feel the energy of various crystals and rocks intermingled within their amber sap. These trees were different from the trees above. They seemed wilder, more primal and in tune with a long-ago version of Earth.

Intrigued, Keelie greeted them. h.e.l.lo.

Who are you? They seemed surprised that she'd spoken to them. They replied as one, like a hive of bees.

I am Keliel Tree Talker. I have been called Forest Friend. She had learned to be formal when greeting a new forest.

You're the Tree Shepherdess. We've heard stories about you from the Mother Root.

That was a new one-Mother Root. The Mother Tree got around.

She's the one.

A chill went down her spine as she wondered what this strange forest could want from her. She wasn't sure what stories they'd been told about her, and these were dark fae trees. And something wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe Herne knew.

"Trees need sunlight, but I sense these are using another source of energy." Keelie gestured toward the strange dark forest. She wondered what their bark was like. Would it have a different texture?

Herne arched an eyebrow as if her question took him by surprise. "They tap into Earth magic."

Keelie was pleased that her a.n.a.lysis was correct. She closed her eyes and connected with the trees. She wanted to know what species she was dealing with. She'd found cultural and personality similarities among different varieties of trees back home. Maybe these were different. She would have to add this information to the Lore Book when she updated the tree sections. This was all new knowledge.

"I feel like they might be oaks, but I'm not sure what else." She turned to Herne, seeking an explanation.

"Linsa and I brought acorns back from Earth long ago, and I planted them in soil from the primal forest, but Underthe-Hill transformed them. When the grove developed a consciousness, it sought out energy from the crystals to take the place of the sun." Herne frowned. "Lately, this has changed-one of the troubling differences in the Northwoods and Under-the-Hill. I feel an emptiness here, as if something is gone, or blocked away from me. I thought that you could speak to the trees and find out what it is."

Everyone wanted something from her. Keelie sighed. Maybe if she helped Herne out, she'd get him to cooperate with the others.

She moved closer to the grove, savoring the mix of magics that had created it. She was a lot like these trees, a mongrel mix. She stumbled, then turned to stare at the smooth soil behind her. No holes, no roots. Had the ground moved?

"I'm pleased a tree shepherdess finds my trees interesting and is welling to help." Herne reached for her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. He didn't seem to have noticed anything strange. "Would you like to take a tour of my world? There is someone you should meet, who knows something of your family's past."

A thrill of excitement shivered down Keelie's spine. Who here might know of her family? There were no elves here. "You've got my attention. Let's go."

She took a step forward, and then realized that her feet were no longer touching the rocky ground. Instead, she was hovering inches above it. She flapped her arms and skidded sideways before righting herself. She was flying.

"Yes, we're going to fly there. Quit flapping around as if you had wings. You'll get yourself killed."