The Tree Shepherd's Daughter (25 page)

He stopped what he was doing and hugged her, releasing her quickly before she could protest. "I was so worried for you during that storm, but I learned you were with Sir
Davey. Is everything okay at the mews?"

"Messed up, but the birds are okay." Keelie lowered her
voice. "Zeke, the trees were afraid. I felt them telling me
when the storm came."

Zeke sighed. "I did, too. Dark magic has upset the balance of energy in the forest."

"We found the mushrooms, Zeke, and it isn't good."
Janice had risen from the couch and walked to the kitchen.
She placed her mug on the kitchen table, bracelets jangling. Keelie noticed that Janice wore a purple sweater and
jeans, normal clothes for a change. She looked nice.

"I saw the mushrooms too. They were all around the
Dragon's Horde."

"You can smell them before you see them." Sir Davey's
caterpillar eyebrows vibrated. "Those birds will be staying in my shop until the mews can be repaired. Mind if I
bunk with you, Zeke?"

"Good idea. There's another front moving through and
the weather might get rough again." Dad handed Keelie a
cup of tea. "I can make coffee for you two. I've got some
left."

"You have coffee?" Janice's eyes were wide.

Zeke shrugged. "Some of Sir Davey's blend. He
brought it up for Keelie this morning. Keelie was feeling a
little queasy after the excitement of saving Moon."

"I'll have orange juice, if it's all the same to you." Keelie
craved sunshine, even if it was the liquid variety.

"No coffee?" Zeke pretended to be shocked.

Sir Davey took her hand and turned it over. A green tinge lingered in her palm. "Too much acidity will off-balance the photosynthesis her body is trying to counteract.
No orange juice."

"Coffee, then." Keelie sat down on the sofa, hugging a
green pillow to her chest. "I'm tired." She leaned forward
to examine the weather maps spread across the coffee table.
Strange runic symbols were drawn over the Rocky Mountains. There were dots of green outlining forests. Some of
the forests were labeled "Sentient." And there were dots of
dark brown labeled "Earth."

Keelie asked, "What's this mean?"

"Those are the magical centers over the mountains,"
Zeke said.

Sir Davey sat down next to Keelie. "The Earth magic
centers are fewer, but they are deep and very ancient. Forests come and go, but the Earth is there forever."

"How does Earth magic work?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Sir Davey beamed at her.
"Hold out your hand. Don't be afraid." She raised her
palm upward, and he placed a cold, round ball of raw, unbaked clay in her hands. It was hard and squishy at the
same time, but thankfully not like mud. Where did he get
it? She pictured him walking around with mud balls in his
pockets.

"Remember, Keelie. Remember mud pies, remember
sandboxes, remember splashing in puddles on a warm
summer's night."

Keelie closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around
the cool clay. It was soothing, like a balm to her fractured
heart. Her fatigue eased.

The memory of splashing with Laurie in her pink
wading pool was suddenly clear. She had forgotten about
the pool, and how they'd made mud pies next to it and
had underwater tea parties and played with their dolls for
hours while Mom sat in her lounge chair reading Glamour
magazine.

Keelie giggled, remembering the warm sun and playing
hide-and-seek with Laurie in the flower garden. Mom had
complained about the tall lilies that their neighbor had
planted and that now grew inside their fence, too. And
suddenly, another memory surfaced. She felt her jaw drop
as she remembered the little insect-like people that joined
in their games.

She could almost feel the warmth of a California night,
alive with fireflies that sang to her. Keelie danced with the
little lights, and the stars seemed as bright as the blinking fireflies, and her skin tingled with the caress of their
magic.

When Mom called, "Time to come in," Keelie wouldn't
want to, and Mom would turn on the floodlights. She
knew they were more than bugs, because they always disappeared when the lights went on. After the incident in the
woods, she never mentioned the fairies to Mom.

Mom. Mom wearing blue jean shorts and a cool white
blouse with embroidered roses on the pocket. Keelie
squeezed the clay harder. She wanted to slip back into that
memory and be that little girl again and have her mom
tuck her into bed. She wouldn't play with the fairies if she
could have her mommy back.

The memory began to fade. "No! Mommy, come back." Keelie tightened her grip on the clay. Nausea and
fatigue washed over her. She opened her eyes and let the
mutilated clay drop from her fingers onto the floor.

Sir Davey watched her, his gray eyes grave. Keelie
closed her eyes again and saw the images of Moon, the
face of the man in the aspen tree, and the stick man flying
in front of her. Finally her mother's face appeared, exactly
as she remembered her. She hadn't forgotten her at all.
Keelie opened her eyes and noticed that Sir Davey's eyes
were misty. He held her hand.

Tears slipped down her face, too. She couldn't stop
them. She tried to push all the sadness back into the box
she'd created for her feelings, but the lock had been broken. The overwhelming sadness wouldn't fit anymore. It
had grown too big for her to hide, and she had no choice
but to let some of it out.

"More," she whispered.

Davey shook his head. "I didn't do anything, Keelie. You
summoned that memory on your own. Your quartz works
the same way as the clay. Things of Earth ground you and
help you to focus your energies without distraction."

Keelie barely paid attention to Sir Davey. She stood
up, releasing his hand. She didn't want clay or crystals
to ground her. She wanted Mom. Keelie wobbled and
would have fallen if Zeke hadn't caught her. He held her
in his arms, and she relaxed. Just this once she would
hold onto him. Just this once she would let him comfort her until the sadness shrank enough for her to stuff
it back into its box and build another strong brick wall
around it.

Her dad held her, and she held him back and cried
into his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. "I miss
her, too. Keelie. I miss my Katy."

Keelie excused herself to wash her face. When she
walked into the bedroom, Knot was on her bed, his weird
green eyes focused on her. She saw herself reflected in the
window against the growing darkness outside. It was too
early for night. Another storm was approaching. As she
looked, lightning flashed silently beyond the forest.

She heard her cell phone ring, the subtle chirp her
mother had insisted on. The sound was coming from the
bedside table. She picked up the mud-encrusted phone
and checked its screen, but it was blank. She would have
to call Pacific Bell for a replacement. Wonder what service
they had in the Dread Forest?

"Stupid mud."

A tiny voice came from the phone. Surprised, she held
it to her ear.

"Hey, you answered." Laurie's voice!

"You wouldn't believe it. This phone is destroyed. I
haven't been able to get it to work at all," said Keelie. "How
are you? How's everyone at school?"

"Okay." Laurie sounded impatient. "Cousin Addie is
coming through for us. She'll be at the Faire on Sunday
evening, and she's springing you then."

"Sunday." She should have been happy, but she felt
flat.

"Yeah, that's all the time you've got left to suffer at the
Freak Faire."

Hearing footsteps outside the bedroom, she whispered,
"I've got to go, Laurie. Call me tomorrow."

Quickly, Keelie shoved the cell phone under her pillow as Dad poked his head through the bedroom curtain.
"Aren't you coming back out?"

Knot watched her. When she made eye contact with
him, his gaze dropped to her pillow, then back to her, as if
he knew what she was planning.

"Yeah. I was just looking at my new clothes." That was
lame.

Her father's face faded. A cold fear clamped around
Keelie. Hrok's voice was in her head, Tree Shepherd's daughter, help her.

She shrieked as she dropped to the floor. Her arms
felt as if they were being torn out of their sockets as the
wind tugged on her body like an evil zephyr, demanding
her to dance with it. The branches of the oak tree outside
the shop slapped and scratched the glass window panes.
Hrok's voice echoed in her head. Tree Shepherd, stop the
storm.

Stop it? How could her dad stop a storm? She felt as if
her arms and legs were being pulled, her hair yanked by
the roots.

Then she lost her connection to Hrok, hearing instead sadistic laughter in the howl of the wind. The Red
Cap. Panic swelled inside Keelie, bursting out of her in a
scream.

In the dark and cold was the green panic of the trees as
they thrummed their danger call deep underground, root
to root.

Sudden warmth drew her attention, and then she heard
the weather radio beep its storm warning. Hands. Hands
were clutching at her.

"Open your eyes, Keelie," Janice said.

"We're right here, lass. Open your eyes." It was Sir Dav-
eys voice.

She did, and saw Sir Davey and Janice were kneeling on
either side of her. "Dad." Her voice came out in a croak.

"He'll be all right. Are you with us now?" Sir Davey's
voice was like an anchor, a strong rock that would hold
her down, keep her safe.

Keelie closed her eyes again as a cry for help rose in her
mind once more. She saw a tall, regal aspen growing in the
forest on the other side of the mountain. She sensed that
the aspen was a queen, and the smaller aspens surrounding her were her handmaidens and members of her woodland court. The trees were in danger, surrounded by debris
whirling counterclockwise. Lightning sizzled and hit the
aspen. Fire consumed her papery bark. In that moment,
Keelie felt the tree's life force fading away.

"Keelie." She heard her father's voice, but it was in her
mind, a warm green haze that wrapped around her. She
struggled to find her voice. "Tornado."

Fear and pain flooded through her. Hot pain seared her
ankles. It felt as if rough fingers had grabbed hold of them
and were pulling. The aspen's roots were being torn from
the Earth. The last of the tree's consciousness filled Keelie.
Protect the magic, Tree Shepherd's daughter.

The green blanket that resonated with her father's magic enfolded her as the tree crashed to the forest floor.
Its spirit disappeared from her mind, but she was left with
the image of the tornado plowing through the woods like
an angry titan of air.

Keelie felt arms lift her. She opened her eyes to see Dad's
concerned face as he put her on her bed.

"It's over, Keelie."

"Oh, Dad, she's dead, and something killed her. That
wasn't a real storm. That was magic. Did you hear it laughing? She died, and it laughed."

Janice gasped. She stood at the foot of the bed, her
hand over her shocked face.

Sir Davey was at her side, face grim. "The Red Cap,
sure enough."

Zeke nodded. "I think you're right. Tomorrow we'll find her and hold the Tree Lorem. Keelie will take part, of
course. The Queen Aspen spoke directly to her."

Sir Davey's eyebrows rose. "Surprising."

"What's a Tree Lorem? Some kind of funeral?"

"You could call it that. It's a ceremony of farewell and
respect, and the tree's magic will be harvested and given
back to the Earth."

Something warm and furry snuggled against her head.
A soft hypnotic purring lulled her into drowsiness, but she
overheard Sir Davey and Dad speaking in hushed tones.

"Dare we hope she's the one?"

"Don't be ridiculous. This is my daughter."

"Only in legends can a tree hepherd have the connection your daughter has. She's new to the magic, and yet
the aspens speak to her, call to her from the other side of
the mountain."

Keelie didn't want this connection. She didn't want to
feel trees dying. It was hard enough to grieve for Mom.
She couldn't handle a whole forest.

"It scares me, Jadwyn. She's only now come back into
my life, and I don't want to lose her. But what if she is the
one? There are those who will not accept it. My mother,
for one."

"Will you two be quiet?" Janice said in a scolding whisper. "Keelie's been through enough the past two days; let
the poor child rest."

Keelie wanted to sit up, but the purring was getting
louder, and she was getting sleepier. So, her grandmother
wouldn't accept her? It hurt a little, although it shouldn't. She'd never even known the woman existed before this
month. Two could play that game.