The Iron Legends

  The cat yawned. “I do not expect you to do anything, Iron Queen,” he said, examining his claws. “I am simply to guide you to where you need to go. If you do not wish to get to the oracle and inquire about the future of your child, that is your decision.” He gave the paw a final lick, then set it down. “But the only way to the oracle is through the Wishing Tree. And the only way to the Wishing Tree is through the sentinel.”

  “He’s right.” Ash sighed, and drew his blade. Puck followed suit with his daggers. “If the only way to the oracle is past that serpent, then we’re cutting a path straight through. We did it before—we’ll just have to do it again.”

  “I love it when you talk my language, ice-boy.” Puck grinned.

  I drew my sword as well, but Ash put a hand my arm. “Meghan, wait,” he said softly, pulling us back a step. I hesitated, then followed him back into the trees, out of sight of the serpent. “I don’t want you to fight this time,” he said as he bent close, his expression intent and serious. “Stay back with Grimalkin. Leave this fight to me and Puck.”

  I scowled. “What, you don’t think I can handle myself?” I asked, vaguely aware that Puck had moved away, giving us some space. Grimalkin had also disappeared, so it was just me and my knight. I glared at him, hurt and indignant. “Afraid I’ll get in your way or slow you down?”

  “It’s not that—”

  “Then what is it?” I faced him calmly, drawing on the persona of the Iron Queen. I would not act like a whiny teenager. I was the ruler of Mag Tuiredh, the queen of thousands of fey, and I would not throw a tantrum in the middle of the Nevernever. “You know I can fight,” I told him. “You were the one who taught me. We’ve fought side by side against Machina, Virus, Ferrum and an entire army of Iron fey. I’ve fought more battles than most have seen in a lifetime, and I know I’ll have to fight more in the future. This is part of my duty, Ash. I’m not helpless anymore.”

  “I never said you were!” Ash pressed his hand to my cheek, peering at me intently, silver eyes bright. “I never meant to imply that,” he continued in a softer voice, running his thumb over my skin. “It’s just…you’re carrying our child now, Meghan. I can’t risk anything happening to you. To both of you.”

  My anger vanished. It was impossible to stay mad when he said things like that. But still, I was the Iron Queen. I would not let those I loved put themselves in danger while I watched from the sidelines. I’d done far too much of that already.

  “Ash,” I said, meeting that bright, soulful gaze. “I can’t. I can’t hang back and do nothing. Not anymore.” He let out a quiet breath, and I placed my hands on his cheeks, gazing up at him. “Our life, our world, is always going to be dangerous, and there will always be something that wishes us harm. But if this is for the future of our child, and the future of our kingdom, I will stand with you and fight. That is my promise, and my duty as queen. I won’t let anything come between us or stand in our way.”

  Ash’s eyes grew smoldering. “As you wish, my queen,” he said in a low voice, bending close. “If this is your will, then I will fight beside you with everything I have.” And he brushed his lips to mine.

  We kissed until Grimalkin’s impatient sigh filtered through the brambles around us.

  “Goodfellow is getting uncomfortable,” the cat said, as we reluctantly pulled away. “And the guardian is waiting for you. Perhaps we can refrain from celebrating until after it is defeated.” He sniffed as I rolled my eyes, grabbing my sword from where I’d jammed it into the earth. “Also, I feel obligated to point out that the sentinel is very near invincible now. Its scales will turn away most sword blows, and it is impervious to magical attacks. A frontal assault would be most unwise.”

  “Okay, so how are we supposed to kill the thing?”

  Grimalkin sniffed. “How was Achilles finally defeated? How did the dragon Smaug meet his end? There is always a chink in the armor, human. It is small, but it is always there.”

  A piercing hiss rent the relative silence of the glade, making me flinch, and Grimalkin disappeared. The huge snake had uncoiled, and was towering in front of the tree, its tongue flicking the air rapidly. And then another arrow-shaped head rose up where the tail should’ve been, identical to the first and just as frightening. The two-headed serpent hissed again, sounding angry and defiant, flashing twin pairs of very long, curved fangs.

  “Uh, guys?” Puck glanced over his shoulder at us. “Not to be rude and all, but this thing is starting to eye me like I’m a big tasty mouse. I hope you two are planning to join the party soon.”

  I shared a glance with Ash, who waited quietly, not looking at the snake or Puck or Grimalkin, but at me. “Ready for this?” I asked him, and he nodded, gesturing with his sword.

  “Lead the way, my queen. I’m right beside you.”

  We left the trees, walking calmly across the field, side by side. The monstrous, two-headed snake hissed a challenge and reared up into a coiled S, ready to strike.

  “How you wanna do this?” Puck muttered as we got closer. The sentinel’s beady eyes followed us as we approached, never blinking, and it had gone perfectly, dangerously still. I felt the tension lining its huge body, like a rubber band stretched to breaking, and my heart pounded.

  “You take one head,” Ash replied, his narrowed gaze on our opponent. “I’ll take the other. Meghan, that will give you enough of a distraction to look for the weak spot. And let’s hope Grimalkin knows what he’s talking about.”

  “Weak spot?” Puck echoed, looking confused. “What weak spot? Last time we fought this thing, we just hacked it to—”

  One snake head lunged. Insanely fast, it darted in, jaws gaping, a dark blur that took me by surprise. Puck, however, was ready for it. He leaped straight up and, as the snake’s jaws snapped shut in the place he had been, landed on the flat, scaly head.

  The sentinel hissed and reared back, shaking its head, trying to dislodge its unwanted passenger. Puck whooped loudly, clinging like a leech, dagger flashing as he hacked and stabbed when he could. Where the dagger edge met scales, sparks flew, but the blade was unable to pierce the thick hide. Still, it must’ve pissed the snake off royally, because the head went crazy trying to dislodge him.

  “Meghan, watch out!”

  I jerked back, cursing myself. In the split second my gaze had been on Puck, the second head had streaked toward me. Ash lunged in front of me and met the attack with his own, the ice-blade slashing down to catch the serpent in the eye. The snake screamed, in pain this time, and recoiled. Hissing furiously, it turned on Ash, who stepped forward to meet it, his blade held up before him.

  Too close, Meghan. Focus, dammit.

  I took a deep breath and felt the glamour of Summer and Iron rise up in me. With Puck and Ash keeping the sentinel busy, I closed my eyes and sent my magic into the ground, into the wyldwood itself. I felt the roots of the ancient Wishing Tree, extending deep into the earth, the power that hummed through it and all the Nevernever. I could even feel the heartbeat of the sentinel itself, the sudden fear as it realized the two warriors it fought were just a distraction. That the small, insignificant human on the ground, glowing with sudden power, was the real threat.

  “Meghan!”

  I heard Ash’s warning shout, sensed that both heads had broken off their attacks and were now coming for me. I felt the speed of the heads as they darted in, lethal fangs extending to pierce me and swallow me whole, and smiled.

  Too late, I’m afraid.

&
nbsp; The roots of the Wishing Tree, thick and gnarled and ancient, erupted from the dirt around me, surging into the air. They shot forward to meet the sentinel, wrapping around the huge coils, pinning it to the ground.

  Hissing, the snake thrashed and flailed its powerful body, snapping the tough, thick roots and wiggling free. It was strong, stronger than I expected. Triumphant, the heads reared up again, ready to strike. But an ice-spear flew through the cage of branches, striking one head, and a huge raven swooped in to peck at the eye of the second. The heads flinched, distracted for a brief moment, and that was all the time I needed.

  I called the roots again, but this time, my Iron glamour surged forth, infusing the wood as it wrapped around the snake. The sentinel hissed and thrashed again, trying to break free, but the ancient roots were streaked with iron now and as strong as cables. The snake’s thrashing slowed as the iron roots coiled around it, and it shrieked in frustration.

  Gripping my sword, I walked forward, still sending power flowing into the tree, the merged glamour of Summer and Iron. I passed the first head, which hissed and tried to snap at me, failing. I walked calmly past the second, to the same result, until I stood in the center of the coil of roots and snake. And I closed my eyes again, searching for the heartbeat, the pulse of life that pounded through the huge sentinel. I followed that beat, the coils of both snake and tree thrashing wildly around me, until I found it. A chink in the snake’s armor, a hole barely the size of my fist. The sentinel wailed, beady red eyes glaring at me through the branches, and I gave it a sad smile.

  “I’m sorry. But I am the Iron Queen, and you are in my way.”

  Raising my sword, I drove it, point down, into the crack between scales, sinking it deep. The sentinel screamed, a high piercing wail, and convulsed madly, shaking the roots of the tree. I staggered away, clutching my sword, as it wailed and thrashed, fighting the inevitable. At last, its struggles slowed, the light went out of its crimson eyes and it finally stopped moving.

  I slumped against a branch, breathing hard, my body spent from using so much power. Pushing myself off the root, I sheathed my blade as Ash and Puck came through the web, both their expressions blank with disbelief. I grinned at them tiredly.

  “There, that wasn’t so bad,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. “So, why did you guys have such a hard time, before?”

  Puck blinked at me, and Ash approached until he stood only a few feet away. Silently, he met my gaze and, lowering his head, gave me a very solemn bow. “You are truly a queen of Faery,” he said in a voice only I could hear. “I am honored to be your knight.”

  A lump caught in my throat, but at that moment, the Wishing Tree flared up and blazed with light. I flinched and turned away as hundreds, if not thousands, of candles sprang to life along the branches, making the entire tree glow in the darkness like a beacon.

  “Oh, yeah,” Puck commented, staring up at the galaxy of flickering lights. “I remember this. Bit of advice, princess—only blow out the one candle. Bad things happen if you try to wish for more than one thing.”

  Warily, we stepped beneath the limbs of the tree, feeling the heat from a thousand tiny flames against our faces. I caught a flash of gray fur overhead, and Grimalkin peered down at us from one of the branches, the candlelight reflected in his golden eyes. “The wish has already been spoken,” he purred, waving his tail. “The way to the oracle is clear. When you are ready, simply douse a candle and close your eyes. The tree will do the rest.”

  “Yeah, and what else will it do, I wonder?” Puck muttered, giving both Grimalkin and the flickering candles a dubious look. “You sure you voiced the wish exactly right, cat? No loopholes or funny turns of phrase that could be used against us? I don’t wanna wake up as a frog or find myself on the bottom of the ocean or something crazy like that.”

  The cat scratched an ear, unconcerned. “I suppose you will have to take your chances.”

  I spotted a candle on a low hanging limb, its orange flame dancing weakly in the shadows. “Come on,” I told the boys quietly. “If this is the only way to the oracle, we have to do this. No turning back now.”

  Ash moved beside me and took my hand. “We don’t want to get separated,” he murmured, lacing our fingers together. “There will be a cost, later, that’s how it works. The Wishing Tree always demands a price, no matter what Grimalkin says.”

  My stomach twisted, but Ash gave me a reassuring smile and squeezed my hand. I felt the smooth metal of his wedding band press against my skin, and I smiled back.

  Half turning, I held out the other hand to Puck. He hesitated, still eyeing the tree, and I wrinkled my nose at him.

  “Robin Goodfellow,” I said, giving him a challenging smile, “don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

  His green eyes flashed with familiar defiance, and he stepped close, taking my hand. “Not on your life, princess,” he returned, smirking. “Though don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. If we all end up as llamas, I’m going to spend the rest of my life following you around saying ‘I told you so’ in llama-ese.”

  I quickly pushed away the thought of Puck as a llama before I started laughing. I needed to stay serious, focus on what lay ahead. The oracle waited for me, and she held the answers about my child. But I wasn’t afraid anymore. Not with Ash and Puck beside me, their fingers wrapped tightly around mine, protective auras glowing strong. Just like old times, as Puck said. The three of us had been through so much together and always won; this wasn’t going to be any different.

  I squeezed their hands, raised my head and blew out the candle. A thin wisp of smoke curled into the air, and that was the last thing I saw.

  Chapter Six

  I opened my eyes, blinking in confusion. I didn’t remember closing them, but I must have, because everything was different. The glen and the Wishing Tree were gone, as was the body of the monstrous snake. A tunnel of thick black brambles surrounded me, bristling with thorns, the branches creaking and slithering against one another like they were alive.

  “Well, we’re here,” Puck said, releasing my hand to pat himself down, as if making sure he was all there. “Looks like we made it in one piece, too.” He peered past me to where Ash stood on the other side, squeezing my fingers in a death grip. “And all together. I was half expecting us to land in different corners of the Nevernever, or at the very least surrounded by nasties wanting to tear our heads off. Looks like Furball actually pulled it off.”

  “What did you expect, Goodfellow?” Grimalkin sauntered by, tail in the air, and did not look at us. “I am a cat.”

  I stole a glance at Ash. He looked relieved as well, though I could tell he was worried about the whole situation. He, too, had been expecting trouble the moment we arrived.

  “Stay alert,” he told us softly as we moved forward, following Grimalkin down the tunnel of thorns. “Just because there are no surprises now doesn’t mean there won’t be some later.”

  Ahead of us, the ceiling of the tunnel began to shimmer, rippling with waves of blue light. As we reached the end of the corridor, the passage opened up, and we stood at the edge of a small grotto surrounded by thorns. Overhead, the Briars shut out the sky, branches woven so tightly together the area felt more like a cave than anything else. The walls were filled with human clutter: toys, books, picture frames, trophies, stuffed animals, all dangling from the thorns or speared upon a long black spike. Grimalkin had vanished within the clutter, like another stuffed animal in the huge pile of toy
s. A porcelain doll with a missing eye stared at me as I ventured past the lip of the tunnel into the chamber.

  “Well, that’s just all kinds of creepy,” Puck muttered at my side, giving the doll a look of alarm. “If you see any clowns, do me a favor and don’t point them out, okay? I’d rather live without the nightmares.”

  I was about to snap at him for putting the thought of killer clown dolls in my head, when Ash touched my arm and nodded to something ahead of us.

  In the center of the grotto, a bright, glowing pool threw hazy reflections over the walls and ceiling. But the pool itself was perfectly still, like the surface of a mirror, and you could see everything reflected in it. The walls full of clutter and the ceiling of the grotto plunged down like a hole in the pool’s surface. At the edge of the water, slumped in an ancient rocking chair like a pile of discarded rags—or a long desiccated corpse—was a familiar old woman.

  For few seconds, the oracle was so very still that I thought she was dead, after all. Then her head slowly turned, and those empty, eyeless pits fastened on me.

  “You have come.” She rose from the chair as if she were on strings and raised a withered hand, beckoning us forward. I squared my shoulders and marched toward her, Ash and Puck close behind me. The Briars seemed to hold their breath, the dolls and other toys watching intently, until we stood just a few feet from the ancient hag, the now-familiar stench of grave dust and old newspapers clogging the back of my throat.

  For a second, nobody moved.

  I cleared my throat. “All right,” I announced, meeting that eerie stare head-on. Or, hoping I did, anyway. It was difficult to glare at an eyeless face—you didn’t really know if it was looking at you or not. “I’m here, Oracle. We came as fast as we could. Now, what is this offer you were speaking of at Elysium? What do you know about my child?”