by Julie Kagawa
“Where are we?” I gasped as soon as I was able.
It seemed we had stumbled onto some sort of village. Simple mud and thatch huts lay in a loose semicircle around a fire pit, which was empty and cold. Bones, animal skins, and half-eaten carcasses lay scattered about, buzzing with flies.
“Looks like an abandoned goblin village,” Puck muttered as I leaned against him, still gasping. He looked down at me, smirking. “Piss off any goblins lately, Princess?”
“What? No.” I wiped sweat from my eyes and stumbled over to a log, collapsing on it with a groan. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“There you are,” came a disembodied voice, from somewhere near the edge of the trees. I jumped up and looked around, but couldn’t see the speaker. “You are late. I was afraid you had gotten lost, or eaten. But, I suppose it is only human failing that is to blame for the loss of punctuality.”
My heart leaped. I knew that voice! I gazed around eagerly, but of course I couldn’t see anything until Puck grabbed my arm and pointed me toward the edge of the trees. An old log lay in the shadows just outside the village border, dappled by moonlight. One moment, it was empty. Then, I blinked, or the moonlight shifted, and a large gray cat sat there, bottlebrush tail curled around his legs, regarding me with lazy golden eyes.
“Grimalkin!”
Grimalkin blinked at me, looking much as he always did, long gray fur blending perfectly into the moonlight and shadows. He ignored me as I rushed up, completely absorbed in washing his front paw. I might have swooped him up and given him a squeeze, if I didn’t know his sharp claws would turn my face into hamburger and he would never forgive me.
Puck grinned. “Hey, cat,” he greeted with an airy wave. “Long time no see. I guess you’re the one responsible for our little Death March?”
The feline yawned. “That is the last time I put a Summoning on a human,” he mused, raising a hind leg to scratch his ear. “I could have taken a nap instead of waiting for you to finally show up. What took you so long, human? Did you walk?”
I finally remembered: Grimalkin had helped me in the search for my brother, and in return, we had agreed that he could call on me, once, at a time of his choosing, though I’d had no idea what that entailed at the time. That was our bargain. Seems he’d finally gotten around to calling it in.
“What are you doing here, Grim?” I asked, torn between delight and aggravation. I was happy to see him, of course, but I wasn’t thrilled about the forced march through goblin-infested woodlands, just to say hi. “This better be good, cat. Your stupid Summoning spell could’ve killed me. What is it you want?”
Grimalkin turned to groom his hindquarters. “I do not want anything from you, human,” he said between licks. “I brought you here as a favor for someone else. You will have to take your business up with him. And, if you would, remind him that he now owes me a boon, since I wasted a perfectly good Summoning on you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“HE MEANS ME, MEGHAN CHASE.” The thunderous voice shook the ground, and the smell of burning coal drifted over the breeze. “I ASKED HIM TO CALL YOU HERE.”
Something stepped out from behind a hut, a monstrous horse of blackened iron, with burning red eyes and flames smoldering through the chinks in its belly. Steam billowed from its nostrils as it swung to face me, huge and imposing and terrifyingly familiar.
Ironhorse.
CHAPTER TEN
Truth and Lies
“STOP!” Ironhorse bellowed as Puck immediately pulled out his dagger, shoving me behind him. “I DID NOT COME HERE TO FIGHT, ROBIN GOODFELLOW. PUT YOUR WEAPON DOWN AND LISTEN TO ME.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Rusty,” Puck sneered, as we began backing toward the edge of the village. “I have a better idea. You stay there until we get to Oberon, who will rip you apart and bury your pieces so far apart you’ll never get put back together.”
My heart pounded, both from fear and a sudden fury. Ironhorse was one of Machina’s lieutenants, sent to capture me and bring me to the Iron King. We’d escaped him twice before, once in Tir Na Nog and once in the Iron Kingdom, but Ironhorse had a bad habit of popping up when we least expected it. I certainly hadn’t expected to run into him here.
“Dammit, Grim!” I raged, shooting the cat a furious glare as we backed up. He blinked at me calmly. “You sold us out to them? That’s low, even for you.”
Grimalkin sighed and gave Ironhorse a chiding look. “I thought you were to stay hidden until I could explain things,” he said with an exasperated flick of his tail. “I told you they would overreact.”
Ironhorse stamped a hoof, sending an explosion of dirt into the air. “TIME IS PRESSING,” he boomed, tossing his head. “WE DO NOT HAVE THE LUXURY OF WAITING MUCH LONGER. MEGHAN CHASE, I MUST SPEAK WITH YOU. WILL YOU HEAR ME OUT?”
I hesitated. This was new. Normally, about this time, we’d be fighting for our lives. Ironhorse wasn’t usually polite. And Grimalkin still watched calmly from the log, gauging our reaction. Curiosity got the better of me. I put a hand on Puck’s arm to stop him from backing up farther.
“I want to talk to him,” I whispered, ignoring his frown. “He came here for a reason, and maybe he knows about the scepter. Keep an eye on him, will you?”
Puck glared at me, then shrugged. “Fine, Princess. But the second he makes a move, he’ll be upside down in a tree before he can blink.”
I squeezed his arm and stepped around him to face Ironhorse. The huge Iron fey loomed over me, steam writhing from his mouth and nostrils. “What do you want?”
I’d forgotten how big Ironhorse was. Not just tall, but massive. He shifted his weight, gears clanking and groaning, and I took a wary step back. He might not be attacking, but I trusted him about as far as I could throw him, which was not at all. I also hadn’t forgiven him for nearly killing Ash the last time we’d met.
Ironhorse lowered his head in what was almost a bow. “THANK YOU, MEGHAN CHASE. I CALLED YOU HERE BECAUSE WE HAVE A MUTUAL PROBLEM. YOU SEEK THE SCEPTER OF THE SEASONS, IS THAT NOT CORRECT?”
I crossed my arms. “What do you know about that?”
“I KNOW WHERE IT IS,” Ironhorse continued, swishing his tail with a clanking sound. “I CAN HELP YOU RETRIEVE IT.”
Puck laughed. “Sure you can,” he mocked, as Ironhorse snorted and pinned his ears. “And all we have to do is follow you like eager little puppy dogs, all the way into the trap. Sorry, tin can, we’re not that naive.”
Ironhorse snorted. “DO NOT MOCK ME, ROBIN GOODFELLOW,” he said with a blast of flame from his nostrils. “MY OFFER IS GENUINE. I DO NOT SEEK TO MISLEAD YOU.”
“Bull,” I snapped, crossing my arms. Ironhorse blinked at me, astonished. “Tertius and a bunch of creepy metal assassins stole the scepter and killed Sage, knowing Mab would blame Oberon for it. The new Iron King designed this war. He plans to slaughter everyone when the courts are at their weakest. Why would you want to help us stop it?”
“BECAUSE—” Ironhorse stamped a hoof. “—THE NEW IRON KING IS A FRAUD.”
It was my turn to blink at him. “A fraud? What do you mean?”
The lieutenant tossed his head disdainfully. “EXACTLY WHAT I SAID. THE KING CURRENTLY SITTING THE THRONE IS AN INTRUDER AND A FAKE. I FEEL NO LOYALTY TOWARD HIM.” He swished his tail and raised his head imperiously. “I AM NOT LIKE THE IRON BROTHERHOOD. THE KNIGHTS WERE CREATED TO OBEY WHOEVER SITS UPON THE THRONE. THEIR SENSE OF DUTY IS WARPED. I KNOW THE TRUTH. AND I WILL NOT SERVE HIM.”
I glanced at Puck. “What do you think of all this?”
“Me?” Puck smirked and crossed his arms. “I think all Iron fey should be melted down into scrap metal. I wouldn’t follow Rusty here if my life depended on it.”
“How very predictable.” Grimalkin’s voice drifted up from near my feet. I hadn’t even heard him move. “Your prejudice blinds you to what is really happening.”
“Oh, really?” I glared at him. “Then why don’t you tell us what’s going on,
Grim.”
Grimalkin yawned. “Is it not obvious? When you killed Machina, the Iron fey lost their ruler. They needed someone to sit upon the throne, give them direction. A false monarch claiming to be the Iron King answered them, but not everyone accepted him. Now, the Iron fey are split into two camps, one siding with the false king, and one that wishes to bring him down. Ironhorse is part of the second. Is that not true?”
“THAT IS CORRECT.”
“If the false king gets the scepter, he will become even more powerful,” Grimalkin continued, gazing at me with unblinking golden eyes. “If he is to be stopped, it must happen before he receives it. Ironhorse claims to know its location. You would be foolish not to listen to him.”
“What if he’s lying?”
Ironhorse threw up his head with an indignant blast of flame. “I DO NOT LIE,” he boomed, and I shrank back from the heat. “DESPITE WHAT YOU THINK OF ME, I AM STILL FEY, AND NO FEY CAN TELL AN UNTRUTH.”
Blinking, I looked at Puck. I hadn’t heard that before, except in vague mentions of faery lore. “Really?”
Puck nodded. “Pretty much, Princess.” He shot an evil look at Ironhorse. “Though comparing Rusty to one of us is a bit of a stretch.”
“But…you told lies all the time, when you were Robbie. Your entire life was a lie.”
Grimalkin snorted. “Just because he cannot lie does not mean he cannot deceive, human. Robin Goodfellow is an expert at dancing around the truth.”
“Oh, look who’s talking. If you’re not an expert at screwing people over, I’ll eat my head.”
Ironhorse snorted and shook his mane. “ENOUGH. TIME IS PRESSING. WE DO NOT HAVE TIME TO ARGUE. MEGHAN CHASE, WILL YOU ACCEPT MY HELP OR NOT?”
I looked him in the eye. His blank, rigid mask gazed back at me, expressionless and impassive. “Are you really here to help us?” I asked. “You really want to get the scepter back and stop the war?”
“YES.”
“And, you aren’t going to lead us into some kind of trap?”
“NO.”
I took a deep breath and let it out again. “That seems to be all the questions I can think of right now.”
“Here’s an important one,” Puck added. “Where is the scepter anyway, Rusty?”
Ironhorse blew a puff of steam at him. “I DO NOT ANSWER TO YOU, OLDBLOOD. MY BARGAIN IS WITH THE GIRL.”
“Yeah?” Puck’s grin grew dangerous. “What if I take you apart and turn you into a toaster oven? How’d you like that, tin can?”
“I WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY.”
“Guys, please!” This was as bad as refereeing the frequent threat-fests between Puck and Ash. “Enough with the posturing and testosterone. Ironhorse, if we’re going to do this, we need to know where the scepter is. We can’t follow you blindly into wherever.”
Ironhorse bobbed his head. “OF COURSE, MEGHAN CHASE.” I frowned at his compliancy, but he went on without pause. “THE SCEPTER OF THE SEASONS HAS BEEN TAKEN INTO THE MORTAL REALM. IT IS BEING HELD IN A PLACE CALLED SILICON VALLEY.”
“Silicon Valley? That’s in California.”
“YES.”
“Why there?”
“SILICON VALLEY WAS THE BIRTHPLACE OF LORD MACHINA,” Ironhorse said gravely. “MANY OF HIS LIEUTENANTS, LIKE VIRUS AND GLITCH, ALSO HAIL FROM THAT AREA. IT IS A REGION OF IRON FEY, ONE THAT THE OLDBLOODS—” he shot a glance at Puck “—AVOID COMPLETELY. IT IS THE IDEAL PLACE TO HIDE THE SCEPTER.”
“You can say that again,” I mused. Silicon Valley wasn’t just one city, it was every city in that area. “Finding the scepter will be like looking for a needle in a haystack—in a field of haystacks.”
“I CAN FIND IT.” Ironhorse raised his head, looking down his long nose at us. “I SWEAR IT. DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY THE WORDS? MEGHAN CHASE, I, IRONHORSE, LAST LIEUTENANT OF LORD MACHINA, WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SCEPTER OF THE SEASONS, AND I VOW TO PROTECT YOU UNTIL IT IS IN YOUR HANDS. THIS I SWEAR, ON MY HONOR AND MY DUTY TO THE TRUE MONARCH OF THE IRON COURT.”
I drew in a breath, and even Puck looked surprised. An oath like that meant the speaker was bound to fulfill it. Ironhorse wasn’t playing around. As I stood there gaping at him, Puck took my arm and turned me aside.
“What about Oberon?” he murmured. “He’s the only one who can remove the seal. If we go gallivanting off to California, you won’t have your magic to protect you.”
“We can’t worry about that now.” I shook off his hand. “The scepter is more important. Besides, that’s what I have you for.” I smiled at him, and turned to Ironhorse. “All right, Ironhorse. We have a deal. Take us to the scepter.”
“Finally.” Grimalkin stood and stretched, bottlebrush tail curling over his back. “You make decisions as slowly as you answer Summonings, human. I do hope this will not become a habit.”
“Wait. You’re coming, too? Why?”
“I am bored.” Grimalkin waved his tail languidly. “And you are always entertaining…except when I am waiting for you to arrive, of course. Besides, the lieutenant and I have business, as well.”
“You do?” I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “What is it?”
He sniffed and half slitted his eyes. “None of your concern, human. And you will need my guidance, if you want to get the scepter as quickly as possible. I believe the closest trod to Silicon Valley is through the Briars.”
Puck’s eyebrows shot up. “The Briars? You’re risking an awful lot, cat. Why don’t we try a trod a little less, oh I don’t know…lethal? If we double back, we can use the trod through the Frost Meadows. That will bring us close to San Francisco, and we can easily hitch a ride from there.”
Grimalkin shook his head. “If we want to reach Silicon Valley, we must go through the thorns. Do not worry, I will not get you lost. The trod past the Frost Meadows has become inaccessible. It sits too close to Tir Na Nog.”
“Still don’t see the problem, cat.”
Ironhorse snorted. “THE FROST MEADOWS HAVE BECOME A BATTLEFIELD, ROBIN GOODFELLOW,” he said, making my stomach clench. “WINTER HAS ALREADY CUT A SWATH OF DESTRUCTION THROUGH THE WYLDWOOD, AND THEY ARE ADVANCING ON SUMMER AS WE SPEAK. THERE IS A HUGE ARMY OF UNSEELIE BETWEEN US AND THAT TROD. THE CAITH SITH IS RIGHT—WE CANNOT TURN BACK.”
“Of course I am,” Grimalkin agreed. “We go through the Briars.”
“I don’t get it,” I said, as Grim trotted off with his tail in the air, confident in his victory. “What are the Briars? Grimalkin? Hey!”
Grimalkin looked back, his eyes bright floating orbs in the gloom.
“I am not here to chitchat, human. If you truly want your question answered, ask your Puck. Perhaps he will be able to soften the reality for you. I would not.” He twitched his tail, and continued into the trees without looking back.
I looked at Puck. He grimaced and shot me a humorless smile.
“Right. The Briars. Just a second, Princess. Hey, Rusty,” he called, motioning to Ironhorse, who pinned back his ears, “why don’t you walk ahead of us, huh? I want your big ugly ass where I can see it.”
Ironhorse glared at him balefully, tossed his head, and strode after the quickly vanishing Grimalkin. The Iron faery left a faint path of destruction in his wake; branches curled away from him, plants withered and grass shriveled under his feet, leaving burned-out hoofprints on the trail. Shaking his head, Puck muttered something very rude under his breath and followed, leading us deeper into the wyldwood.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Briars
Later, after a night of following Grimalkin through increasingly thick forest, I decided that some questions are better left unanswered.
“The Briars,” Puck began, keeping a wary eye on Ironhorse walking in front of us, “or Brambles or Thorns, or whatever you want to call it, is a maze. No one knows how big it really is, but it’s huge. Some say it encircles the entire Nevernever. There are rumors that if you’re in the wyldwood and start walking in any direction, you’ll eventually hit the Briars. You can find patches gro
wing most anywhere, from the Greatwood and the Venom Swamps, to the courts of Arcadia and Tir Na Nog.”
“Like the Hedge,” I murmured, remembering the tunnel of thorns in Oberon’s court and the brambly escape route Grimalkin had used to get us out of Faery. The bramble wall surrounding the Seelie Court had opened for the cat, revealing a maze of tunnels in the thorns, and I’d followed him as he led me back to the mortal world.
Puck nodded. “That’s another name for it. Though the Hedge is a tamer version of the real Briars. In Arcadia, the Hedge responds fairly consistently, taking you wherever you want to go within the court. Out here, in the wyldwood, the Briars are rather…sadistic.”
“You make it sound like they’re alive.”
Puck gave me a very eerie stare. “They are alive, Princess,” he warned in a low voice. “Not in the way that we’re accustomed to, but do not take them lightly. The Briars are a force, one that cannot be tamed or understood, even by Oberon or Mab. And they’re always hungry. It’s easy to get in—getting out is the tricky part. Not only that, but the things that live in the Briars are always hungry, too.”
I felt a chill run all the way down my spine. “And we’re going through the Briars…why?”
“Because the Briars have the greatest concentration of trods in all the Nevernever,” Puck replied. “There are doors hidden throughout the Briars, some constantly shifting, some only appearing at a special time under special circumstances. Rumors are that, within the Briars, there is a trod to every doorway in the mortal realm, from an L.A. strip club to some kid’s bedroom closet. Find the right door, and you’re home free.” The grin grew wider, and he shook his head. “But you have to get to it first.”
RAIN HISSED through the branches of the trees, a cold, gray rain that leeched color from everything it touched. Even Puck’s bright auburn hair turned dull and colorless in the misty deluge. He’d rake his fingers through it, streaking his hair with red, only to have the rain soak through it once more, bleaching away the color. Grimalkin was nearly invisible; not even his eyes glimmered in the gloom.