Shadows of the Redwood (3 page)

A screen door screeched shut behind her, and Keelie turned to see Grandmother exiting the little wooden bathroom. Keliatiel walked calmly, with dignity, not like an old lady who’d spent fifteen minutes in a gas station bathroom.

Keelie walked toward her, their paths crossing just short of the truck.

“Are you ready?” Grandmother pulled open the truck door and climbed in, her linen trousers barely wrinkled under her long, leaf-embroidered tunic.

“Of course.” Keelie took her place next to her and pulled out the road map.

Juliet City, California, was just seventy miles ahead.

An array of colored crystals was arranged on the dashboard. Sir Davey had taught Grandmother to drive using the crystals, and they guided her better than any GPS.

Grandmother ran her hands over the crystals and the truck’s engine turned over. Two minutes later they were back on the road south, headed toward the redwoods.

Keelie leaned back in her seat. All she hoped to get out of this journey was a last look at the house she’d shared with Mom, and maybe a glance at her old school.

“You thought the trees in the Dread Forest were old, Keliel, but you have not seen anything like the redwoods,” Grandmother said. “They make one feel insignificant.”

A roaring echo filled Keelie’s ears, and an odd, musky scent filled the car.
Help us
, tree voices chorused.
Help us, Keliel
. Just as suddenly the noise was gone, leaving Keelie’s ears ringing with the sudden silence.

She looked quickly at Grandmother, but the old lady drove on, and behind them, Knot snored on his kitty cushion. Keelie had been the only one to receive the message, yet Grandmother was in charge of this mission.

Whatever it had meant, the trees sounded desperate. Keelie was suddenly determined not to let them down.

Grandmother maneuvered the truck into the sandy parking lot of the Juliet City Shakespeare Festival, narrowly missing the plywood cartoon cutout of William Shakespeare holding a wooden scroll that read, “Welcome to the Faire.” It wouldn’t have been a loss if the truck had demolished the unflattering portrait. The big, bulging eyes and bulbous nose made the Bard of Avon look like a troll.

Huge sequoias surrounded the festival grounds, and the buzz of their conversation was deafening. Keelie touched her rose quartz, then tapped into her elf magic to put the trees on silent. She would make her introductions later, when she had everything for the shop handled. The truck rolled to a stop and Grandmother turned the engine off with a satisfied smile.

Keelie jumped out, shivering from the chill air. She’d shelved her fantasy of sunbathing in her cute little yellow bikini when they’d passed the steep, rocky beach that was crowded with sleek, fat sea lions. No way. But the town of Juliet City was charming, and she couldn’t wait to visit it and get familiar with the festival grounds.

Knot was on the back of the bench seat, tail swishing, ready to join her. She shrugged and let him out. He’d find trouble no matter where he was.

“What do we do first?” Grandmother was stretching out the road kinks, leaning against the truck hood.

“Check in with administration.” Keelie felt superior because she knew what to do, while Grandmother had never left her woodland home. The Silver Bough Jousting Company’s horse hauler was parked on the opposite side of the lot, and seeing it made Keelie’s heart quicken with excitement. Sean was here somewhere, with his jousters. Of course, Risa was here too, at her new business called “Green Goddess Herbals.”

Things hadn’t been so hot between Keelie and Sean by the time he’d left for the festival. He’d seemed distant. Keelie knew that he was busy with the horses and the other jousters, preparing for the trip, but the worst had been the day when he left. Dad had been right there with the rest of the elves, and Sean hadn’t kissed her. He’d hugged her briefly and said, “See you in Colorado.” That was it. She’d been stuck with the rest of the group, waving goodbye, as if a piece of her heart wasn’t going with him. Elves!

What really bothered Keelie was that Risa had been hanging around the barn in the days before the jousters left, bringing late winter apples, helping to feed the horses, and telling everyone that she was happy to be useful. Keelie was sure that she was scoping out the jousters to see who was available, and maybe even checking out Sean, her former betrothed. No one else thought that Risa was strange, since, after all, Risa was one of the two young, pureblood elf girls, and therefore the biggest chance the elves had of increasing their dwindling population. The other pure elf girl was Elia, Keelie’s frenemy. She didn’t want to think about Elia, even though they weren’t actively at war anymore. Or so Elia said. At least Elia wouldn’t be hanging around at this festival.

Grandmother had climbed back into the drivers’ seat. She rubbed her hands along the rim of the steering wheel, looking like she was very satisfied with herself for having driven them all the way. Then she got back out, holding a leaf-embroidered tote bag, and carefully locked the dilapidated truck’s door. “What are you staring at? Let’s get on with it.”

Keelie shook her head, forcing herself to focus. She looked at the map and notes that Dad had given to her. “It says Admin is on the edge of the parking area.” She looked around. This festival was old and the buildings crowded close to the parking lot, with only a short picket fence separating the cars from the village.

Grandmother gestured toward a house that looked like an English thatched cottage. “That might be the one.”

Keelie shuddered, remembering Finch, the draconic director of the Wildewood Faire. Luckily, that faire’s Admin office didn’t have a thatched roof. Finch’s salty tongue would have caught it on fire.

Grandmother yawned, then pressed her hand against her mouth to suppress another one. “Let’s check in, then go to the campsite. I need to rest. We can check out the festival grounds tomorrow.”

“We need to unload all the furniture,” Keelie said. Grandmother must have forgotten the huge trailer of wooden furniture for sale, which Dad had sent ahead.

Grandmother sighed, frowning “I suppose you’re right, except—”

“Except what?”

“I can’t unload it. My back.” Grandmother rubbed her spine.

Keelie forced herself not to roll her eyes. She’d once caught sight of her reflection in the hall mirror when Dad had been imparting his usual parental wisdom, and realized that rolling her eyes made her look like a peevish little kid.

She eyed the Silver Bough Jousting Company’s horse trailer. Maybe Sean and the other jousters would help her with the furniture. If they wouldn’t do it for her, then surely they would do it for Grandmother, who until recently had ruled the elves of the Dread Forest.

Keelie retrieved the registration papers from her messenger bag. “Let’s get going, then. I’ll figure something out about the furniture.”

Grandmother seemed content to forget the unloading. She stretched her arms wide and swiveled her waist as if she was doing a yoga move. There was a loud pop. “That’s better.”

Keelie had practiced yoga over the winter with Zabrina, who thought it would help her control her magic, but it was strange to see Granny Elf doing yoga. It was as if leaving the Dread Forest had given Grandmother a whole new mindset, and Keelie wasn’t sure what to think of it.

She started up the gravel path that led to the thatched cottage, Grandmother lagging behind, still stretching her arms. Keelie ignored her, choosing to focus on the feeling of efficiency that filled her. This was her third faire, and she knew the routine. She had to find the Heartwood shop and then convince Sean and the other jousters to help unload Dad’s beautiful furniture. She’d park Grandmother somewhere to get her out of the way, or maybe put her in charge of setting up the tent.

Wait until Dad heard. He’d be proud of Keelie’s business prowess. She would prove to him that she could be trusted as well as any adult. Even though she was only sixteen, Keelie considered herself to be an adult. After all the things she’d been through, she should certainly qualify as one.

“Keliel. Stop.” Grandmother’s voice held the “obey me now” tone that she used on the elves of the Dread Forest.

Keelie spun around. “Come on. If your back still hurts I’ll see if there’s a massage shop here. We’re late getting to Admin and there’s a lot to do. The Festival opens day after tomorrow.” Grandmother was cramping Keelie’s efficient business plan.

Grandmother held out a hand to silence her, then turned her brilliant green gaze to the tree canopy above them. She looked at Keelie. “Can you hear them?”

Keelie looked up at the impossibly tall trunks of the sequoias and the leafy canopy that towered above them like faraway green umbrellas. She’d been shielding herself from the trees, not wanting to be distracted by their thoughts and chatter.

Fog suddenly swirled between the trees, enveloping them in eddies like a fast-moving river of white smoke. In seconds, it was impossible to see beyond her grandmother and the silhouette of the Admin building.

Great. Keelie had hoped for twenty-four hours of normalcy before she became involved with the local trees. She had been looking forward to seeing the giant redwoods, but she was afraid of them, too. They were so old.

Keelie closed her eyes and saw, in her mind’s eye, a golden sparkling light interwoven with dark mist. This was fairy magic, she knew. Strange, because she hadn’t seen a single
bhata
or
feithid daoine
anywhere. The forest seemed to be empty of fae. She willed the mist to dissolve, and a bright green light illuminated the landscape of her mind.

A strong jolt like a mental punch almost knocked her over, as the redwoods’ thoughts crowded in and around her. A strong and ancient magic flowed through them. Keelie fought for breath and opened her eyes. Faces now pushed out from the bark in the trees, looking at her solemnly. She’d seen the tree faces before in other forests, but usually the tree spirits waited a while to show her.

These guys didn’t waste anytime in revealing themselves. Waves of power poured from them, but Keelie pulled on her magic to create a barrier. Finally she breathed easier, as if the oxygen tap had been turned back on.

Grandmother turned in a slow circle, her eyes wide. “O, Ancient Ones, it is our honor to be among you.”

It is our honor, Keliatiel of the northern forest, to see you and your young sapling Keliel, about whom we have heard so much.
The voice seemed to come from everywhere. Keelie couldn’t tell which tree had spoken.

Grandmother bowed her head reverently.

“Hi.” Keelie finger-waved, determined not to show how stunned she was by their age and power. She centered her magic on her barriers to keep from being overwhelmed.

We have much to discuss, and are thankful to the northern elves for sparing you to answer our summons.

Grandmother bowed again, then lifted her palms upwards. “My granddaughter and I are privileged to help the Ancient Ones. We will do whatever is necessary to aid you.”

Was the old lady nuts? You couldn’t make such open promises to a tree. They took everything literally. Keelie wanted to kick Grandmother so she’d shut up. Dealing with Alora the treeling had taught Keelie that trees did not understand little human problems like prior commitments, or fear of death and dismemberment. Despite their grand majesty, she was sensing more than great power from the redwoods. There was great need as well, and something else. Something familiar, but fleeting.

Tonight we shall discuss our problem further, and make formal greetings,
the deep voice said in their minds.
Until then, tree shepherds
. The tree faces melted back into the bark.

Keelie waited for the tree magic to grow faint before wheeling around to confront her grandmother. “Why did you promise them that we could help them? We have no idea what the problem is.”

Grandmother waved her hand nonchalantly. “I don’t think it will be a big deal.” She reached for the papers in Keelie’s hand. “Why don’t we see about registering for the shop and getting the furniture moved out of the truck?”

Stunned, Keelie watched her grandmother stride toward the thatched cottage, all signs of muscle fatigue gone. The old faker was hiding something. What was going on with her? She’d given up being head of the Dread Forest and now Dad had that role, so why was her supposedly exhausted grandmother extending an open-ended offer of help? There was no telling what the redwoods wanted, and it might be something that they couldn’t deliver.

Keelie wasn’t happy about being tricked, but part of her admired the fact that Grandmother had done something she might have done. Keelie never could resist a cry for help.

Grandmother turned around at the door of the cottage. “Are you coming, or do I have to do everything myself?”

“You are too much.” Keelie marched up the steps, but before she could come up with a smartass retort, her grandmother had entered the cottage.

Keelie clenched her fists. Keliatiel was acting like the bossy old elf that Keelie had met late last summer when she’d first arrived in the Dread Forest. She would not let the old woman’s elvish snottiness get to her.

Inside the thatched cottage, the man who greeted them had a beaky nose, long dark hair, and a thin beard on a sharp protruding chin. He sat behind a glistening, polished wood desk that was decorated with Shakespearean knickknacks. The Romeo and Juliet kissing bobbleheads were disturbingly cute. A tarnished nameplate read, “Master Oswald, The Lord Mayor.”