The Secret of the Dread Forest: The Faire Folk Trilogy (4 page)

The next morning, Keelie reluctantly headed to her first class. She left the house and started across the green (which was rightly named—the grass would have made a leprechaun proud). She stopped suddenly, wondering if leprechauns were real. Given the creatures she’d seen so far, they probably were. Her life had changed so drastically from the busy and organized existence she’d once had in Los Angeles with her mother.

Keelie felt a pang at the memory of her mom, who’d died in the spring. Sometimes it felt like forever, then other times it felt as if the accident had happened only days ago.
Still other times she was overwhelmed with the desire to call Mom and share something she’d seen, or heard, or thought. Those were the moments that haunted her the most.

Keelie headed toward the other side of the village. The green was busy today, full of elves preparing for the harvest festival. A cart full of pumpkins sat on the side of the trail. Keelie glanced across the green to where the massive aunties stood, towering above the other oaks that ringed the space. Their great roots extended toward the Caudex, the petrified remains of an ancient tree that had once stood in the center. The base of the Caudex now held the Council thrones.

The Lore House was on a rise just past the last house in the village. Long and squat, it sat like a great half-tim-bered toad, its windows glinting in the sun.

Elianard was waiting for her by the front door, reading a book that was spread open across his lap.

“Good morrow, Lord Elianard,” she said, summoning her father’s lessons in elf etiquette. Elfiquette. She was sure no one here called it that. All the more reason to enjoy the sound of it.

Elianard glared at her with cold green eyes, showing how little he wanted to be there. “You are late.” He indicated an empty wooden armchair next to his. “Sit, our first lesson will be witnessed by the trees. Tell me what you know of elven lore.”

Keelie walked to the chair and lowered herself slowly
into its smooth, wide seat (oak, from this forest). “I know the Dread makes me nauseous, that Red Caps are dangerous fairies, and that unicorns are vulnerable.” Green eyes met green, two shades of the forest, and held for a moment before his slid away.

Three hours later, Keelie’s mind was as numb as her backside, suffering from an overdose of elf history—the migration from Europe had done in most of it.

Elianard must have noticed her glazed eyes. “What do they teach humans in your schools?”

“Lots.” She tried not to sound defensive.

“Name some examples, please.”

“History, math, geometry, and science.”

Elianard sneered. “Science. Human scientists think they know so much about the Earth, but they don’t. They think that nothing is real if they can’t prove its existence. A scientist would tell you the Dread is not real.” He pointed at Keelie and arched an eyebrow. “But you know differently, don’t you, Keliel? As a human, you may not know what it is, but you feel its effect.”

“What is the Dread, exactly? And aren’t you supposed to teach me how to handle it?” She picked up the book, which Elianard had placed on a table. “I’ll bet there’s nothing in your lore about the Dread.”

Elianard snatched the Lore Book from her and opened it to a passage written in flowing script. He read aloud: “‘Building a Tolerance to the Dread. Should the Dread affect you, build a tolerance by exposing yourself to it for
increasingly long periods of time. If done on consecutive days, your body will build a magical barrier against the fear the Dread’s magic creates.’”

Exposing herself. She thought of herself naked among the Aunties. She didn’t want the trees to see her naked.

“Duh. I
am
in the woods; I’ve been exposing myself to the Dread day and night.” She pulled the pink crystal from her pocket. “This is what works for me.”

Elianard smirked. “Earth magic. Without your quartz, without the tektite, you’re open to the Dread, but soon your own magic will be able to protect you. Do not depend on objects to magnify your power. Even if your purpose is for the higher good, you’ll pay a high price.”

“You should know,” Keelie said. Although she didn’t mention the unicorn, the tension in the air was palpable.

Elianard ignored her jibe and turned the Lore Book over. He pointed to a symbol on the back—a wavy-lined, concentric circle with a thorn-wrapped acorn hanging from the outer edge. Keelie stared at it. It was the same symbol as on Elianard’s amulet, which was now hidden in her room. But it was also a mirror image of one she had just seen recently.

She remembered it now. Grandmother’s book.

“Look closer.” Elianard said, pushing the book toward Keelie.

The symbol seemed to move. It pulled at her, and she lifted her hand, stretching her fingers out to touch it. A chill emanated from it, deepening until it made her fin
gernails throb. She pulled back and rubbed her fingers together.

Knot hopped into Keelie’s lap, breaking her trance with loud purring and kneading her with his paws. The symbol was once again just a picture in a book. What was it about the spiral and the acorn that had put her under its spell? She reached out toward it again. Knot sank his claws into her leg. She gasped.

“Did you feel its power? Even a drawing in a book can summon the magic from within you and make it stronger.” Elianard said. “I think—”

Knot’s purring grew so loud that Keelie couldn’t hear Elianard over the feline roar. The symbol seemed to grow, and she was lost in longing to touch the acorn. Her finger reached for it once more. What would happen if she followed the grooves, touching each curve?

Something touched her arm and she jumped up, startled. Knot tumbled to the ground.

“Is everything okay?” Dad stood over her. Relief welled up in Keelie as his hand closed around her upper arm, giving her the extra support she needed.

Knot meowed at Keelie as if he was scolding her for dropping him, then walked away with his tail bushed out. He wasn’t happy. He had a cool cat image to maintain and somebody, or something, was going to pay. Some unsuspecting
feithid daoine
was going to be on his hit list, but Keelie wasn’t worried—the bug fairies always retaliated.

Knot was sure to come home pink, or shaved, or smelling weird.

Elianard slowly rose from the bench and said, “I was advising Keelie to expose herself to the Dread without the shielding magic of her rose quartz. She needs to build her natural resistance, now that she lives among us. She can’t rely on rocks and crystals to keep the Dread at bay.” He held out the book.

Dad took the book from him.

Keelie’s heart raced, wondering what would happen when she saw the symbol again. It was eerily hypnotic, and so enticing. Her fingers still tingled, wanting to touch it. Dad turned the book over and ran his hand over its smooth binding.

The symbol wasn’t there.

Dad touched the embossed oak tree on the front cover, then nodded at Elianard. “I think you should try it, Keelie.”

“No way am I going to walk around the Dread Forest without my quartz or tektite.” She was resigned to living here, but to go without any protection was like throwing her in a lake and telling her to swim. She wasn’t going to doit.

Grandmother Keliatiel appeared behind Dad. “Good morrow, Tree Shepherd, Lore Master. And Keelie. How did your lessons go this morning?”

“I’m amazed humans have survived as long as they have,” Elianard said, then sniffed.

Keelie hoped this was the beginning of a cold.

“I didn’t expect you to come here, Mother.” Dad didn’t seem surprised to see her, though. “I came to ask Keelie and Lord Elianard a question.”

Her grandmother nodded her head regally. She was really beautiful, in a white-haired, elderly way. Too bad her insides weren’t as nice. Definitely not a bake-cookies-and-cuddle kind of granny. “Very well. I came to inform our Keliel that Lord Niriel has generously consented to give her lessons in swordsmanship and horseback riding.”

“Fencing lessons?” Keelie asked. She’d fenced at Baywood Academy one semester, but had stopped when Laurie wanted them to run cross-country instead because the shorts would show off their legs.

“No, fencing is with foils and rapiers,” Dad said. “Niriel will teach you to use a broad sword.”

“That sounds dangerous.” The Faire jousters wore swords, and they hacked away at each other after all of their lances were broken and tossed aside. Even choreographed, it looked deadly.

“You are going to learn how to use a sword.” Grandmother glowered at her. “It is part of our history and part of our culture, and I expect you to understand every aspect of our society.”

Elianard stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I am expected at Lord Hamriel’s house. I’ve been invited to a celebratory tea in honor of his daughter’s betrothal.” His voice was
strained, as if it was an effort to be polite when saying this out loud.

Keelie winced. She wondered what he really thought about the engagement of his daughter’s old boyfriend, but she thrust aside the train of thought. She’d tried very hard not to think of Sean and Risa’s betrothal again, but hearing it from Elianard was like having a broad sword stab her through the heart.

Grandmother Keliatiel looked at Keelie. She thought she saw a concerned expression flash across her face, but it disappeared quickly. Dad’s hand was once again on Keelie’s shoulder, offering support. Keelie fought tears, imagining Knot making an appearance at the betrothal ceremony and causing havoc.

It didn’t help.

Later, at Grandmother’s house, Keelie slumped in a chair at the dining table as Grandmother poured tea into blue glazed pottery mugs that looked a lot like the ones Ellen the potter had made at the High Mountain Faire. The peppermint tea’s aroma was bracing and delicious.

Dad passed her a plate with a slice of pumpkin bread. Keelie accepted it, but ignored it after she set it down by her cooling tea.

Outside, Ariel would be getting restless, but Keelie couldn’t take her out until she’d had her fencing lesson.

Dad motioned with his head, and Keelie knew what it meant. Sit up.

She did, even though she wasn’t feeling all elfy and regal.
She sipped her tea, then reached for Dad’s sketch book and pencil and began drawing in a corner of one of his design pages. The symbol had been etched into her mind. Maybe if she drew it, she could purge it from her imagination.

Grandmother folded her hands together in her lap. “I understand that you feel that Sean has betrayed you, but you must understand that he faced a difficult choice. Wisely, he chose the good of his people over his desires.”

Keelie drew some more. She’d heard this kind of bogus thinking before.

Dad refilled her teacup with peppermint tea. Keelie sat a little straighter.

“You see Keelie,” Grandmother continued, “the elves have a different way of thinking. Our ways are a living link to history. Back in time, the royal marriages of Europe were based on what alliances were best for the countries, to keep the peace or ensure what was best for society.” Grandmother waved her hand vaguely. “Elianard said you had studied history in school.”

Keelie continued to draw the symbol, focusing on the thorn-wrapped acorn that dangled from its coiled end. She felt her magic flow through her.

Dad cleared his throat. “Keelie, Sean didn’t know about the betrothal until he arrived here. It is something Niriel arranged with Risa’s father. They think they have a chance of—”

“—of having a child, an elven child, a pureblood elven child.” Grandmother’s eyes sparkled with excitement at
the prospect of a pureblood elf child. Sean was to be little more than a breeder.

From the corner of her left eye, Keelie watched as Dad lowered his head into his hand. At least he understood what impact the word “pureblood” had on Keelie. Her eyes focused again on her drawing. Dad had married a human—that must have really torqued the old lady’s karma. Keelie’s very presence was an insult to elves everywhere.

She drew some more, and the symbol had a meditative and calming effect on her. She should really be mad at her grandmother, but right now she felt detached, not a part of the scene taking place around her.

Oblivious, Grandmother continued. “Surely Keelie knows about procreation. It is my understanding that human girls know about these things very early.”

“I guess
pureblood
elven girls don’t learn about sex until they’re over 200.” Keelie shaded in the thorns on the acorn.

Grandmother’s mouth sagged open, as if hearing Keelie say “pureblood” finally made her realize the impact of the word on her son and his halfblood daughter.

“Keelie, if things were different, Sean would be here with you. As it is, elves are bound by the rules, rituals, and customs of our culture—it defines who we are, and it keeps a balance in the magic.” Dad frowned at Keelie’s sketch.

To Keelie this sounded like “Blah, different, blah Sean, blah rules, rules, rules.”

“And besides, you’re only fifteen in human years,” Dad added.

Yeah, and Sean was what? Eighty? Keelie frowned. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to discuss this at all, much less with her human-prejudiced grandmother.

“Interestingly enough,” Keelie said. “When Elianard was giving me my Lore lesson today he showed me this symbol on a book. It’s the opposite of the one on the book in your library, Grandmother. What does it mean?” She turned the sketchbook around so that they could see her drawing.

Grandmother Keliatiel dropped her mug and it crashed to the floor, splashing peppermint tea on her skirts. She stood and wiped angrily at them with her napkin, sneaking looks at the sketchbook in between swipes.

There was a knock at the door. Dad gently took the sketchbook from Keelie and closed it. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“That’s Niriel.” Grandmother said. “He’s here to escort Keelie to her next lesson.”

Keelie twirled her finger in the air. “Woohoo, can’t wait. Do you think he’ll know what this symbol means?”

“No,” Grandmother hissed. She took a deep breath. “Do not mention that book to anyone.”

“Whatev.” Keelie channelled her California mall girl to create a protective barrier against her Grandmother’s
words, all the while thinking that she had to find out what the book was all about.