Shadows of the Redwood Read online

  Leaves swished and branches rattled as Keelie approached the ancient trees and Alora. The trees greeted her, some friendly, some with indifference, but the three oaks call the Aunties trilled their delight at her presence, and Alora at their center most of all.

  “Did you bring me twinkles?” Alora asked excitedly. She spoke aloud, although no regular elves could hear her. For all her power, she was still very young.

  “No, I just went to the post office,” Keelie replied. “Dad doesn’t let me drive very far, since I just got my license.” She pulled the envelope from her pocket. “I got this, though. The house I lived in with my mom has been sold.”

  Alora’s spirit face pushed out of her trunk. “Your root home? Your forest mother?”

  “More like the pot she was planted in.” Keelie struggled to find another way to make a tree understand what a house meant. “You’ve been in my bedroom, when you were small. You know what it was like inside.”

  Alora shuddered. “A pot made from the bones of trees.”

  That was one way to describe a wooden house. “I was happy there with my mom. And now it’ll belong to someone else.” Keelie felt tears burn her eyes.

  “But your roots are here. Your pot is not your home.” Alora looked puzzled.

  One of the Aunties interrupted, in tree speak. I don’t understand how a treeling can have more than one pot. This is your pot. We are your forest.

  Keelie sniffed. “Thanks. I love you guys so much. I can’t imagine living anyplace else. But I remember living there, and I was happy because I was with my mom.”

  What trees were there? Another of the Aunties chimed in.

  “Um, not too many trees. My mom didn’t want me to be around them.” Immediately she knew she’d said the wrong thing. Branches started to crack overhead as the trees expressed their disapproval.

  “Oh, please,” Alora said. “Pipe down, Aunties. Her mother died only a ring ago.”

  We remember her, one of the Aunties said. She had brown leaves like Keelie.

  Keelie tugged at her short, curly hair. Leaves?

  “Have you spoken with your father?” Alora asked. “He has much to discuss with you.”

  “Uh oh. What’s up?”

  You’re not in trouble, but he has a boon to beg of you, the Auntie said.

  “A boon? A favor, of me? What kind?”

  We can’t say, the Auntie replied.

  Alora ran a slender branch across her mouth, as if zipping it up. The older trees rustled their branches at the human-like motion. They thought that hanging around with Keelie had corrupted their Great Tree.

  “Okay, if you won’t tell me, I’ll go find Dad. I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Bring me back some twinkles,” Alora called.

  “Right. You’re already wearing my entire jewelry box.”

  It was truly weird that her best friend was a tree, and that when she wanted a pair of earrings she had to climb up and dig them out of a branch. Good thing there weren’t any magpies in the forest, or her jewelry would be scattered all over Oregon.

  Keelie headed back toward the house, wondering where her dad could be at this time of day. With the Ren Faire season coming up, she thought he might be in his woodshop, and sure enough, that’s where she found him, finishing up an armchair made of bent willow twigs.

  Her dad was wearing a long tunic of fine golden linen, no doubt a gift from one of the elven ladies who followed him around just as human women did at the Ren Faires. Dad was a chick magnet. At least they’d held off a little when she and Dad had first moved back to the Dread Forest; they probably were disconcerted to find him with a teenaged daughter.

  “Keelie, right on time. Give me a hand with this.” He gave her a cloth and put a bowl of lemon oil polish between them. Keelie dipped the cloth in the oil and started to rub it into the chair while Dad worked on the other side. She pushed away the vision of the shallow stream and dappled forest which came to her as her fingers touched the willow’s wood.

  “I got a letter from Talbot and Talbot today, Dad.”

  “Really? Tax stuff?”

  “No, they sold Mom’s house in Hancock Park.”

  “Oh, good. Took long enough.” Dad scraped at a blemish in the wood with his fingernail.

  Keelie bit her lip.

  Dad straightened. “I know the house meant a lot to you, but it couldn’t sit empty waiting for you. Someday, if you want it again, you can find the owners and make them an offer. It won’t be gone forever.” He opened his arms and swept her into a hug. “Home is not a house.”

  Keelie hugged him back, loving the feel of his strength. When Dad had taken her in when Mom died, he’d loved her unconditionally, and Keelie suddenly realized that she was making a big deal out of the house sale. But there was little of her mother in the Dread Forest, and Keelie wanted to feel surrounded by her mother’s presence one more time. Somehow, she had to get to Los Angeles.

  “Alora said you had something to tell me.”

  Dad stopped rubbing polish into the wood and straightened. “I do. I, too, have received an important message. Viran, the tree shepherd of the Redwood Forest, is missing. A few of the strongest shepherds are gathering there to help find him. The Redwood Forest is the oldest of the new world’s forests, and the shepherd of the sequoias must be very strong, for the trees are so old that their power could drive a weak one mad. We fear for Viran. No one has seen him in weeks.”

  “Why don’t you ask the trees where he is?”

  “Good point. But the trees don’t know, either. Or they aren’t telling.”

  “What do you mean, not telling? Trees don’t lie.”

  Dad looked grim. “I said the forest is very powerful. Do you know how the trees here can show their faces, and sometimes root walk?”

  Keelie nodded. She saw the trees’ faces all the time, and root walking was something she’d seen for herself in the Wildewood Forest, and not in a good way. Trees had dragged their roots out of the ground and moved around as if they had feet, a scary sight. It got even more frightening when they attacked.

  “Well, in the Redwood forest, the tree spirits can take the form of people, and interact with people. Their spirits walk among the elves.”

  Keelie stared at him. “You’re serious. They can do that?” She pictured tree spirits chasing her around.

  Dad nodded. “They’re quite powerful. Of course, most humans don’t see it. You’ll find them wise and independent. Their tree shepherd is most unusual.” He started polishing again. “I’m supposed to open the Heartwood shop at the High Mountain Faire the day after tomorrow, and I can’t change that commitment. So I want you to go to the redwoods in my stead. While you’re there, you can set up a Heartwood shop at the Juliet City Shakespeare Festival. We’ve never been there, and there’s space available.”

  A million thoughts sped through Keelie’s mind. This was perfect! Running a faire shop was a piece of cake for her now, and she could also go see her former home. Would Laurie, her old school friend, drive up and take her to L.A.? But how could she take her father’s place, since he’d said that only the strongest tree shepherds could deal with the redwoods? And how was she going to get to Juliet City?

  Keelie only voiced some of these thoughts. “How can I drive myself all the way to the redwoods? They’re down on the California coast. And do you really think I’m powerful enough to deal with the ancient trees?”

  Just at that moment, Grandmother appeared in the woodshop’s doorway. “I will attend to the Redwood Forest. Keelie can tend to the festival.”

  Keelie looked at her grandmother’s stern face, which was framed by tightly braided silver hair. Keliatiel Heartwood was dressed in linen robes embroidered with forest motifs, every inch still the Lady of the Forest.

  “Your grandmother knows the redwoods of old,” Dad explained. “She will deal with the trees and the other tree shepherds. You will learn much from her.”

  Goodbye, L.A., goodbye, fun. Keelie looked once more at
her stuffy, old-school grandmother.

  Grandmother’s eyes swiveled to meet hers. “I drive.”

  Life sucked.

  Two days later, Keelie stood staring at the skimpy candy selection in the Gas-A-Minute, fifty yards over the California state line. Two kinds of chocolate bar, dusty-looking, foil-wrapped mint patties, and chewing gum brands she’d never heard of. That was it. Not a sour gummy anything.

  Keelie stared at the rack, trying to summon up a little appetite. She deserved a treat, and nothing here was treat-worthy.

  She glanced outside. No sign of Grandmother, who’d lost every bit of elegance the minute they’d pulled into the gas station parking lot. She’d pushed the driver-side door open and had raced to the ladies’ room, leaving Keelie to turn the car off and wait.

  At least they were finally in California. The first two stops had been in Oregon.

  “You want some chips instead?” The woman sitting behind the counter, reading a magazine, had been watching Keelie.

  Keelie considered, then chose a bag of SunChips. “I’ll take these, please.”

  The woman stood to ring up her purchase. “You can quit looking outside. She’s still in the restroom.”

  Keelie bit her lip. Had she been that obvious?

  “Older women sometimes have to go a lot,” the woman confided, speaking as if she had personal experience with the problem.

  “You don’t know my grandmother.” Keelie paid for the chips and went back outside, holding the metal bells that dangled from the back of the plate glass door so that they were quiet. Their jangle had made her shudder when she’d entered, or maybe it was because the whole building was made of concrete, steel, and glass. Even the counter was plastic.

  She let the door close behind her and inhaled the fresh outdoor air. It smelled different from Oregon, and the trees murmured to her of rain and fog. She hadn’t noticed a difference in the tree smells before last summer, when the trees had called to her and she’d discovered that she could talk to them, along with all sorts of other strange creatures that lived in forests. Her half-elf blood had gotten her into so much trouble lately.

  She was glad for this road trip, even if Grandmother hadn’t let her get near the steering wheel even once.

  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.