Of Witches and Wind

by Shelby Bach

  “That’s what happens in the Tale dreams,” I told him.

  Chase grinned, like someone had said he would get his very own quest for his birthday. “There’s this table, in this house, with all these people, and then there’s this cake, as big as a giant’s palm. Candles are shoved in it, all over. Sometimes I try to count them, but on the top of the cake, someone wrote in blue icing, ‘Happy birthday, Grandpa Chase.’ ”

  Then I did trip over a tree root.

  It was official. Of all the weird things Chase had told me that week, him telling me that he dreamed about being a grandfather freaked me out the most.

  “I’m going to live to be an old man and die in my sleep.” He had said that before, usually when our lives were in danger, but I had thought it was just him being cocky. Not once had I suspected that he believed it. “That’s how I knew I needed to leave the Fey and live among humans. I needed to grow up.”

  The winds’ mother was right. Chase had been a turncoat. I mean Turnleaf.

  I could never make fun of him the same way again. Maybe Chase was an idiot sometimes, maybe he bragged more than he should, but he’d also made a very grown-up decision before I’d even reached first grade.

  Thunder rumbled above us, but we couldn’t see any lightning. We couldn’t even see the sky. Too many giant pines in the way.

  “That might put a damper on our plans.” Then Chase clapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Whoa. Corny much? I think Ben’s rubbing off on you.”

  “I meant—we should figure out which way that storm is headed.” Chase jumped up, and with two beats his wings carried him up past the trees. “I’m going to check it out.”

  So he left me alone with my thoughts. I hoped Lena had remembered to text my mom. I hoped it would take less than a day to find the other questers. And if we didn’t find them, if we were lost on Atlantis for weeks . . .

  Thunder cracked again overhead—much closer. “Chase! We really should find shelter. It would suck to get electrocuted.”

  He didn’t answer.

  I was alone in the woods after dark, on a strange hidden continent. I drew my sword, just in case nymphs from the pine trees I had busted wanted revenge. My ribs didn’t like that. Wincing, I let the weapon dangle at my side. “Chase?”

  All was quiet, except for the thunder.

  If Chase had been flying around above the trees, he’d been the tallest thing around. Dodging lightning was probably impossible, even if he was a good flier. “Chase! Answer me!”

  “Rory!” His voice was faint, behind me, and kind of strangled.

  I whirled around, the hair on my arms standing up. In the gloom, a large wingless figure carried a double-headed ax over his shoulder. Iron Hans. Relief spread through me.

  Rolling my eyes, I trudged down the slope. “Chase, I don’t care if that ax was too good a prop to pass up. This is not the time for your scary Iron Hans impression.”

  But the man didn’t grin, or laugh, or break the glamour like Chase would have. And when the lightning flashed, the man’s pewter skin lit up. His features were more rugged than Chase usually made him, the jaw more square, the dark eyes more deep set. Just the way he stared at me, emotionless, waiting, freaked me out.

  I slowed. “Chase, seriously, I’m going to try my new ring out on you if you don’t stop faking.”

  “Is this Chase?” The figure lifted his other arm, the one not holding his ax. A tall, skinny boy dangled from his hand, by his belt. Chase’s curls flopped into his eyes, his jaw slack. I knew it was real then—Chase would never create an illusion of himself that looked so scared.

  If you ever meet this villain, you should turn around and run the other way. None of you are good enough to face him. That was what Hansel had said about Iron Hans. My feet stopped where they were.

  If I attacked first, I might surprise him. But what good would that do against someone bigger and stronger than me? No, I thought, my thumb finding the ring, not stronger.

  But how did you beat a man with metal skin? He was like a walking suit of armor. My blade would just glance off him.

  Chase was too terrified to even speak, except for a breathy sort of “I— I—”

  No, not “I.” “Eye.”

  I sprang forward.

  Iron Hans lifted the ax in a guard position, almost lazily. I bashed it out of the way with my sword, using all the strength in my right arm. Then I hurled my weight behind my other fist, aiming at the hand holding Chase’s belt. Iron Hans had expected the sword slash, but the punch came as a surprise. Grunting slightly, he dropped Chase and stepped back unsteadily.

  The sword’s magic increased my speed—I swept my leg under his heel, tripping him. He slammed into the ground. I stepped over him, one grubby sneaker on the shaft of his ax, the other on his chest. My sword guided its point right to Iron Hans’s eye, and I just held it there, resisting the blade’s magic, its impulse to thrust.

  “Chase?” I didn’t risk looking away from the villain.

  “Freaking Iron Hans. Here.” If Chase was talking, he was fine. Whatever spell Hans had cast over him was broken. “And you beat him in like four moves. He’s never going to live that down.”

  Iron Hans just stared up mildly, like it wasn’t too unusual for a girl to be standing on his chest one wrong move, one twitch away from shoving a blade through his eye and into his brain.

  I suddenly felt a little queasy.

  I didn’t want to kill him, not a man beaten and defenseless on his back. But what else could we do with him? He was an enemy. He’d killed almost fifty Characters in the last battle against the Snow Queen alone.

  Rain started to fall, in fat, chilly drops.

  “What would he swear on?” I trembled—holding my sword over Iron Hans’s face really hurt my ribs. I hoped they thought I was shivering from cold. “If you did the oath and made him swear not to hurt us, what would he swear on?”

  “I dunno. His life?” Chase obviously liked the idea.

  You would have thought we were talking about the price of tickets on the Fey railway. That was how interested Iron Hans looked.

  I shook my head. “Dying doesn’t scare him.”

  “The enchantment he’s under. The one that turned him from human into metal man,” Chase said.

  It was news to me that Iron Hans had been human, but the villain scowled. Chase had guessed right. “That one. Fast.”

  “Hear that, iron brain? You’ve got a choice—you can help us, or you can die. I’m not as nice as Rory. I will kill you. Got it?” I glared at Chase for ratting me out. Iron Hans didn’t need to know that. “So, repeat after me: I, Iron Hans, swear upon the enchantment that binds me—”

  The man’s chest rumbled under my foot. “I, Iron Hans, swear upon the enchantment that binds me—”

  “If I break the oath, then the enchantment will hold forevermore, and I’ll never be human again,” Chase said, and Iron Hans repeated this too, not even winded by me standing on him. “I swear never to harm the two people I see before me, Rory Landon and Chase Turnleaf, and not to bring harm to them by aiding their enemies through information or action. Furthermore, I swear to help them in whatever way is necessary.”

  Chase was pushing it with this last sentence.

  Iron Hans repeated it too. But he also added, “But I shall determine for myself what is necessary, rather than follow any orders the children should have. In return, they must inform no one of my whereabouts.”

  Chase tensed up beside me, and I knew without looking that he was clenching his fists.

  “Repeat it, or else the oath won’t bind,” Iron Hans told Chase.

  Through gritted teeth, Chase muttered what Iron Hans had added and then he started swearing in Fey and in English so loud Lena would’ve whispered, Oh, my gumdrops.

  “You can stop now, child,” Iron Hans told me. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “Yeah, let him up—he’s harmless,” Chase said. I jumped back, breath hitching slightly as I pressed a hand
to my ribs. It didn’t actually make them hurt any less, but the shuddering stopped. “We could have had a magic servant for life if he hadn’t added that last bit, the stupid tricky bastard.”

  “I wouldn’t want to do everything you said either,” I replied. Chase would probably order Iron Hans to hop on one foot all day just because he thought it would be funny.

  Chase ignored that. “I need to find my sword before it rusts.”

  “Where is it?” I asked, watching Iron Hans stand.

  “Wherever it fell when he disarmed me.” Chase stomped off into the woods downhill.

  “The base of the maple sapling,” said Iron Hans.

  “See? He’s still helpful!” I couldn’t bring myself to sheathe my sword when I was alone with the scary metal bad guy. It wasn’t just his reputation. He was so still. Except for his brown eyes, obviously wet and not metal, it was like turning around to find a pewter statue staring straight at you.

  Cue pouring rain and awkward silence.

  Then Iron Hans turned up the hill.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, kind of accusing.

  “I am leading you out of the wet. The boy will follow. The path is clear.”

  I couldn’t exactly refuse. Shivering, and wincing with each step, I climbed up after him, through the trees to some rounded boulders and a small dark opening within them.

  “You live in a cave?” Don’t ask me why, but I’d always assumed that villains were big on castles, mansions, and gingerbread houses.

  Iron Hans moved straight into the dark. I didn’t have much choice. I stepped just inside. When lightning flashed again, I glimpsed simple wooden furniture: a bed, a chair, the table Iron Hans stood over, and the cupboard open beside him. Minus the dark cave part, it looked kind of cozy.

  I didn’t know what to do besides hover around the entrance.

  Most grown-ups I knew would have had something to say about two kids forcing them to help—something unpleasant. It freaked me out that he didn’t.

  “You should use that to dry yourself.” Iron Hans pointed at a blanket-towel thing hanging from the peg beside me, light colored even in the dark. “You will never survive the Wolfsbane clan if you are ill.”

  “You heard about that, huh?” Chase stepped into the cave, water streaming from his hair.

  I wiped my sword off and sheathed it. Then I eased the blanket off the wall and slowly rubbed it over my wet hair, wincing at the pain. Definitely a challenge, considering how hard my hands were shaking now. Well, all of me, really. My ribs hurt even when I held my breath.

  “Enemies sworn on the Fey railway?” Iron Hans said. “All of Atlantis knows about it.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Chase sighed. “Where’s my blanket?”

  “I have only one. Make a fire if you are cold. The wood is stacked behind the bed.”

  But no, Chase had lost the oath round. He wanted to win something. “You make the fire. It’s your cave. We’re your guests.”

  “I am busy with another task.”

  “It better be making us dinner,” Chase muttered.

  It was too much effort to intervene. I just dried a little faster.

  “I am preparing a poultice for the girl’s injury.”

  My head snapped up. So much for hiding it.

  “You’re injured?” Chase asked me, in a completely different tone.

  “Just my ribs.” I would have shrugged, but I knew that would hurt too. “I think I got slammed into one too many things today.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Chase apparently took it as a personal insult.

  “That is the wrong question, Turnleaf,” Iron Hans said. “The question is why you didn’t notice.”

  Rapunzel had said almost the same thing just a few days ago. I hated that he reminded me of my friend. “Maybe because some big metal dude picked him up and started carrying him around like a piece of luggage.”

  Now Chase felt bad. “And you’ve just been fighting with broken ribs all day?”

  “They are not broken. She could not move so quickly if they were. Cracked, perhaps. Severely bruised.” Iron Hans carried a gauzy bandage, smeared all over with something that looked like spinach-artichoke dip but smelled like mint. “This needs to be wrapped around your ribs, herb side on your skin. Can you manage?”

  I nodded, taking it with a wince. I didn’t want him any closer.

  “Let me!” Chase reached for the bandage.

  “The fire will help her more,” Iron Hans said sternly. I expected Chase to mouth off again, but he just swerved and started carrying wood to a blackened fireplace as Iron Hans turned back to his table.

  Painfully, I lifted my shirt and pressed the herby stuff into my side. It felt uncomfortably cool for a second, like the shock of cold sunscreen on a sunny day, but then the pain eased, the throb subsiding. Tying the bandage tight after was a challenge, though.

  As soon as I smoothed my shirt down again, Iron Hans reappeared, this time with a bowl of water, a jar of ointment, and some more bandage. “Let me see your left hand.”

  Chase looked up from the tiny flame he was feeding with dry leaves. “You had two injuries you didn’t tell me about?”

  “No, I—” I looked at my left hand to prove it, but even with the small light Chase’s fire cast, I could see it more clearly—the split knuckle oozing blood. It was slightly swollen and blotchy with new bruises. “Oh. Well, this one doesn’t count, because I didn’t notice.”

  “Didn’t notice.” Chase blew the flame a little bigger and built a pyramid of twigs around it. “Defeats Iron Hans with two injuries, and didn’t notice.”

  “You helped,” I pointed out. Chase gave me a look that clearly said, In what way was hanging by my belt helping? “You said ‘eye.’ I would have never thought of attacking him that way if you hadn’t suggested—”

  Chase turned back to the fire, scowling.

  Oh. He’d just been stammering.

  Iron Hans dabbed at the bowl and cleaned my hand with brisk strokes. It was weird—his metal skin didn’t yield at all. It was too hard. But it also had a rough, calloused texture, and the warmth of any other human.

  He tapped the ring with one finger. The metals clinked. “This gives you the power of the West Wind. But you still have the body of a human girl. Your hand was not designed for the strength you now possess. You must remember that.”

  I knew he was right. It made me kind of sad. “Does everyone on Atlantis know about the winds this morning?”

  “No.” Iron Hans smeared ointment all over my hand. It smelled familiar. The ointment of the witch whose power is in her hair. I wondered how Lena was.

  “Is it true that you have spies everywhere?” Chase asked Iron Hans.

  “They are not spies, but I gather information from many sources.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where the other questers are, would you?” Chase stood up, dusting off his hands.

  “I might. After the rain clears.”

  “Right. No point traveling now,” Chase said.

  He wasn’t sarcastic. That was a shock.

  Iron Hans wrapped the bandage, winding the gauze all the way up and down my hand, which I thought was kind of excessive.

  “How about the Water of Life? Could you find where that is?” I asked eagerly.

  “No.” Turning his back to me, Iron Hans started concocting something else, something so strong it made my nose run.

  “Do you know someone who does know?” I asked.

  “The Unseelie royals.”

  That was kind of good news. We were already on our way there. “Do you think you can get that prince to tell us?” I asked Chase.

  He shook his head, obviously worried. “We’ll need that just for permission to stay.”

  Maybe Chase could have squeezed the location out of the stupid prince if we’d gotten to the Unseelie Court early, if we hadn’t gotten split up, if we hadn’t gotten kicked off the train.

  Panic snuck its way in. We might have
been there right now, if I hadn’t screwed it up.

  “We heard that the spring is currently here in the South,” Chase told Iron Hans. “Do you know if—whoa, Rory. What’s with the pacing? Just because your ribs don’t hurt anymore doesn’t mean they’re healed.”

  “I hope you aren’t gonna bug me about my ribs for the rest of the quest.” I couldn’t keep still. I felt so useless, as useless as Mia, trapped here by a rainstorm, miles away from the other questers. Worse than useless. What if we ran out of time because of my mistakes? “Maybe we should go right now. Find the others.”

  Chase pointed at the sheets of water pouring down outside the cave. “If we go out in that, we could walk right off a cliff. That would really slow us down.”

  Iron Hans held something out to me—a dark liquid in a brown, clay mug.

  I did not want to drink it. “What is it?”

  “A sleeping draft,” said Iron Hans.

  “I don’t want to sleep.” I wanted to go find the others and run all the way to the Unseelie Court. I wanted to save everyone at EAS.

  Iron Hans refused to take the mug back. “That poultice will not heal unless you are still.”

  Chase piped up. “So you can either stay up worrying all night and met the Unseelie Fey with sore ribs, or you can sleep. Wow, what a tough choice.”

  I shot him a dirty look. I swallowed the sleeping draft in three gulps and grimaced. It tasted like I always expected nail-polish remover to taste, sharp and surprisingly chemically coming from an iron dude wearing a tunic and leggings.

  I passed the mug back, thinking fast while I still could. “Could I give the Unseelie prince my boons—like a bribe?”

  “No, only Dapplegrim boons work like that, and Fael wouldn’t want yours,” Chase said. “And stop trying to get rid of your boons. Those things last for decades.”

  “Is there something else the court wants? Something we can trade for information?”

  “Now you’re thinking in the right direction.” Chase came away from the wall, frowning at me. “Rory, maybe you should sit down.”

  My legs felt unnaturally heavy, and so did my eyelids. I couldn’t keep them open—oh, and now my vision was growing dark. “Wow, that sleeping draft works fast.” My words slurred together a little. Great. My tongue wasn’t working either.