The Iron Raven

by Julie Kagawa

  It was my turn to sigh. “I don’t know,” I muttered, setting the mug down. “I didn’t choose to be like this. Trust me, I did not wake up this morning thinking, ‘You know what would be fun? Being an evil asshole again, that would be fun.’ When we were fighting that creature, it got in a lucky shot and stabbed me. The next thing I knew... Well, I’d say I was horny, but I’ve already made that joke.”

  “So, the monster did this to you.”

  “Yeah, but here’s the scary part.” I paused, mulling over my next words carefully. “It’s not like I’ve changed into something I’m not. I mean, obviously it’s been a while. I didn’t have horns this afternoon, so there’s that. But what I’m feeling now...it’s like I’m turning back into who I used to be. The part that was buried.”

  “Mmm.” Stacey looked grave. “Well, whatever you do, be careful, Robin. There are many in the Nevernever who would not be pleased to see the old you return. And many who would be quite terrified. Enough to wish you harm.”

  “Yeah, I get that. But you wanna know the really scary part?” I felt a grin cross my face, one of my old ones, wide and vicious and completely without humor. “I’m struggling with whether or not I should care.”

  “About what?” asked a new voice.

  We looked up. Nyx stood at the edge of the living room, watching us without expression. Seeing her, I felt a huge bubble of relief swell up from the pit of my stomach. She was all right. I mean, I’d known she’d be fine; she was one of the toughest faeries I’d come across, not to mention stubborn, stoic, impassive, refusing to acknowledge when she was hurt...

  Wait, had I just described a female version of ice-boy?

  Miss Stacey, however, gave a huff and whirled around to glare daggers at her former patient. “Another one!” she exclaimed, throwing up her wrinkled hands. “Why is this a trend with all your friends, Robin? You are not supposed to be on your feet yet, young lady. I did not spend the wee hours of the dawn stitching those wounds shut for you to go tromping off into the wyldwood with Robin to fight more monsters and undo all my hard work.”

  She gave a dramatic sigh, and her shoulders slumped in resignation. “But that’s exactly what you’re going to do, isn’t it? I shouldn’t waste my breath. It’s not like I haven’t been through this exact same argument with Robin and company before. So, go on.” She raised an arm, waving her hand like she was shooing a fly. “Go ahead and get yourself torn open again. I’m sure I’ll see you back here before long.”

  I was rolling my eyes through Stacey’s long-winded but familiar rant when Nyx surprised us both by stepping forward and sinking to one knee before the gnome.

  “I am grateful for your assistance,” she said, holding out a hand. A small, crescent shaped coin glimmered against her fingertips, and she held it out to the healer. “Our mission is urgent, and I apologize for not heeding your wishes, but we must go. I’m afraid I have nothing to offer in payment except my skills. If you ever need me or my blade, hold on to this and speak my name. I will hear it and come immediately, if I am able.”

  “Oh.” The gnome deflated, losing most of her fury, and shook her head. “You don’t have to do that, dear,” she said, gently pushing the hand away. “Robin is an old friend of mine, despite all his idiocy. I am happy to help.” She shot me a glance. “I just wish my charges would take better care of themselves. Robin will continue to think he’s unkillable, until the day he’s not.”

  “I have yet to be proven otherwise.” I grinned.

  Stacey snorted.

  Nyx rose gracefully to her feet, pulling her hood up. “I’m ready,” she told me. “We should go.”

  “Yep,” I grunted, climbing to my feet as well. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about the half-full mug and bumped it with a knee, sloshing hot liquid over the hardwood floor. “Oops. Uh, you go ahead and wait for me outside,” I told Nyx, feeling Stacey’s glare on my back. “I’ll just be a second.”

  The Forgotten gave me a slight nod and glided out, making no sound. I started looking around for a cloth or napkin to soak up the mess, but Stacey sighed and waved a hand at me.

  “Get out of here, Robin,” she said in a half-resigned, half-exasperated voice. “Before you cause any other mishaps. But before you go, answer me this. That girl... Does she know who you really were, the old Goodfellow?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “She doesn’t know anything about me. Before today, she hadn’t even heard the name Robin Goodfellow, shocking as that is.”

  “Hmm.” The gnome pursed her lips. “Then perhaps you should consider this rare opportunity, Robin. For once, your reputation does not precede you. Maybe try to make a good first impression, before she hears too many tales?”

  I raised a brow. “I always make a great first impression, Stacilla. Not always a good one, but it’s definitely memorable.”

  She rolled her eyes in defeat. I took that as my leave and slipped out, joining Nyx in the cool twilight of the wyldwood.

  “Okay, that’s done,” I announced, dusting my hands together. “Ready to head out?”

  “Are we truly free to go?” Nyx asked, tilting her head at me. “I feel strange, leaving this debt unsettled. By rights, I should at least owe her a favor.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I waved it off. “Stacey and I have helped each other so many times we’ve lost count of who owes whom.” Crossing my arms, I gave her an appraising look. “I gotta say, though, that turnaround was awfully quick. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I am fine,” Nyx assured me. “I won’t impede our progress or slow us down. This isn’t the first time I’ve been wounded while on a mission.” For just a moment, a haunted look passed through her eyes but was gone in the next breath. “If I was given a task, the Lady expected me to complete it, no matter what.”

  “That sounds familiar,” I sighed. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Knowing that you’re just a pawn in someone’s game,” I went on, “and they don’t see you as anything but the means to an end. I get it. I’ve been there. Oberon isn’t as bad as some of the other rulers—he’s no Queen Mab, at least—but he is still a faery king. They tend not to take no for an answer. Of course, once you realize this, you have one of two choices. Continue on to the best of your ability, knowing your place is to serve and not ask questions, or rebel and make life very difficult for yourself.” I paused, then shot her a toothy grin. “Guess which path I always choose?”

  Nyx frowned, looking confused. “And your king doesn’t punish your disobedience?”

  “Oh, all the time. If he can catch me, that is. Turns out you can’t punish what you can’t see, and I’ve learned to avoid Lord Pointy Ears when he’s in one of his moods. Eventually Oberon calms down and remembers I’m much too valuable to banish forever. He actually does have a level head on his shoulders when he’s not being all high and mighty. Titania, on the other hand, has absolutely no patience for anything, and her hissy fits are legendary. She’s so much fun to piss off.”

  “Piss off?” Nyx frowned. “I don’t know that expression. And what is a...hissy fit?”

  “Ah. Basically I make her so mad she throws a massive temper tantrum and I have to avoid the Summer Court for a few months until Oberon calms her down. Or she finds a shiny new plaything to distract her. Lucky for me, she’s very distractible.”

  “You deliberately make your queen angry.” Nyx’s confusion now held an edge of disbelief as she shook her head. “The Nevernever is a very different place now,” she mused. “If I even hesitated when answering the Lady, she might order the rest of my kin to hunt me down for treason. And she did not forget.”

  I blinked. “Your kin? There are more of you?”

  “Not anymore, it seems.” For a moment, Nyx looked melancholy, a shadow crossing her face for just a moment. “But yes, at one point, I was part of a family. My clan—my Order—wa
s a group dedicated to serving the Lady, no matter what she asked of us.”

  “Yeah, she must’ve been all kinds of fun to work for.”

  “I knew what I was,” Nyx said softly. “Even if I disagreed with her, my loyalty would never come into question. Even if she ordered me to kill my own blood...” She shook herself. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “We still have to get to the Iron Realm. That creature could be anywhere by now.”

  “Right,” I agreed. “And we will. But first, we have to get you something so that your face doesn’t melt off while we’re in Mag Tuiredh. Fortunately, I’m in good with the border guards, so it shouldn’t take long. Then, it’s off to see the queen. And ice-boy, of course. I’m sure he’ll be especially thrilled that I’ve come to visit.”

  “What is she like?” Nyx asked as we headed into the perpetual murk of the wyldwood. “The Iron Queen. Are there protocols that I should follow? I don’t want to offend anyone while I’m in her court.”

  “Don’t worry.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Meghan isn’t like Mab, and she’s definitely not like Titania. She’s not going to turn you into a rosebush or freeze you inside a block of ice for saying the wrong thing. Meghan is half-human, and she was born in the mortal realm. So, she knows about not fitting in, probably more than anyone. My advice is to just...be yourself. Trust me, you don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

  Golden eyes regarded me curiously. I realized I had been speaking about the Iron Queen, one of the most powerful faeries in the Nevernever, in a very casual manner. “Besides...” I grinned and jerked a thumb at myself “...you’ll be with me, and I’m at least in her top three favorite faeries in the entire Nevernever, so you’ll be fine.”

  “Really.”

  “Can’t say it if it’s not true.”

  “Yes, but all fey are masters at bending the truth, Robin Goodfellow,” Nyx said, giving me a pointed look. “I might be new to this era, but I was not born yesterday.”

  “Well.” I shrugged. “Then I guess you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “I guess I will,” Nyx agreed in a quiet voice that, for some odd reason, made my stomach squirm. With a faint smile, she gestured to the surrounding trees. “Lead on, then. I’ll follow you to the Iron Realm, and then I’ll see what the Iron Queen is like myself.”

  8

  THE BORDER

  Well, I would’ve liked to say that we made it to the border with no further incidents, but that would be a lie. It was the Nevernever, after all. Couldn’t walk a mile without something jumping out trying to scare, eat, rob, or have their way with you. Thankfully, the goblin party that attempted to ambush us on the trail underestimated how very lethal the “snow-hair elf” really was. I didn’t even have to lift a finger as Nyx decimated the half-dozen squat green creatures with no effort at all. The last goblin, a runty thing with the tip of an ear missing, squealed in terror as Nyx turned on him, the rest of his troop scattered around her in small goblin pieces.

  “No kill!” Dropping his spear, he cringed back, looking like an ugly green dog that was about to get kicked. “No kill! Mercy, snow-hair, mercy. Pooga leave. Leave now, see? No kill Pooga.”

  I rolled my eyes, but Nyx lowered her arms, the shining crescent blades fading to moonlight in her hands. “Get out of here,” she told the last goblin, who immediately leaped to his feet and scampered into the bushes. Nyx watched until the sound of rustling branches faded into the distance, then turned to me with a wry grin.

  “Nice to know some things never change. No matter how many goblins you exterminate, there are always more somewhere.”

  “Goblins, the cockroaches of the Nevernever,” I agreed. “Though I was sure you would skewer that last one. You know he’s just going to scurry back and tell the rest of his friends about us, and then we’ll have to deal with the whole tribe.”

  Nyx gave a shrug that was somehow elegant and careless at the same time. “I’ve lost count of how many I’ve killed,” she murmured, “how many lives the Lady ordered me to cut short. If I can avoid it, I try not to add to that number.”

  “An assassin with a conscience,” I remarked, surprised. “That must suck. How’d you end up with one of those?”

  Faeries have no souls. It’s one of the key things that separates the fey from mortals. Well, besides the pointy ears, wings, hooves, horns, et cetera. It’s how, after centuries of murder, scheming and debauchery, a faery can continue its merry life without succumbing to the guilt of what it had done. No soul equals no conscience. Throw immortality into the mix, and you have a bunch of bored, capricious beings who are constantly looking for their next form of entertainment and don’t care about the mess they leave behind. I know of only one true fey who managed to earn a soul, and the whole process nearly killed him. It was only his love for a certain half human that kept him sane and alive through the whole terrible ordeal.

  However, there are a few of us who, though it happens very rarely, develop something that passes for a conscience. Sometimes, a faery is cursed with one, though this is one of the most terrifying things that can happen to a fey, and the poor sap who finds himself saddled with a conscience usually gets himself killed trying to undo it. But occasionally—and no one knows how it happens—a conscience develops on its own.

  Some say humans are to blame, that the more time you spend with mortals, the more in danger you are of being infected with their “human morality.” Some suggest that the more famous you are, the more stories, songs, and poems people tell about you, the more you start to take on aspects of the character in those tales. However it happens, slowly or all at once, it’s life changing. A faery can suddenly find himself feeling guilty about actions that meant nothing to him in the past. The games he found hilarious before now make him cringe.

  When this happens, there are really only two choices a faery can make: continue on as before until the guilt eventually drives him to end his existence once and for all, or adapt. Find a way to deal with it, to make up for past mistakes, and do better. Though the rest of Faery will never, ever let him forget.

  Nyx hesitated, a haunted look briefly crossing her face. “It did...suck...sometimes,” she admitted. “Being the Lady’s assassin... I had to accept that part of me, the part that was a killer, the me that reveled in the hunt and the blood and the fear. I had to come to terms with that shadow self, otherwise, it would’ve destroyed me.” She shot me an exasperated look, then sighed. “It’s a long, morbid story,” she finished. “And one I really don’t want to get into at this moment. Ask me again some other time?”

  I nodded. “Fair enough. Then I suggest we move before we’re drowning in a few dozen vengeful goblins. We’re not far from the border now.”

  * * *

  The Crossing, as it was oh so creatively called, sat at the edge of the wyldwood, right before you crossed into the Iron Realm. It was a massive stone bridge spanning a gulf that stretched for miles in either direction, separating the Iron Realm from the rest of Faery. A squadron of Iron knights were stationed here, and a pair of them stood on either side of the enormous copper-and-iron gate, blocking the way into the Iron Realm.

  Upon seeing the guards, Nyx stopped walking and drew in a slow breath, her moon-colored eyes wider than I’d ever seen. “Those are...the Iron fey you mentioned?” she said in a near whisper. Her awe was understandable; she had never seen an Iron faery before, and the knights were decked out in their shiny metal plate armor, a torturous death sentence for any traditional fey. Even the iron-tipped spears they carried would make a traditional faery cringe.

  I nodded. “Yep, and those guys aren’t even the weirdest of the lot. Wait’ll you get to Tinkerport, the town on the other side of the chasm. Pro tip—gremlins are the goblins of the Iron Realm. They’re everywhere and unavoidable, so it’s best to ignore them. Give them any attention and you’ll have a whole swarm trailing you.”

  “Hmm.” Now t
hat the initial shock was over, Nyx regarded the knights. “There aren’t very many guards,” she stated as she scanned the bridge entrance. “I could probably sneak past the lot of them if I wanted to.”

  “I have no doubt you could,” I said truthfully. “I could, too, now that you mention it. But the problem isn’t getting past the guards. See that bridge?” I pointed. “Once you cross to the other side, you’re in the Iron Realm proper, and without a protection amulet, any traditional faery will start feeling the effects of the iron sickness immediately.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Nyx wondered, and I remembered she came from a time where modernization wasn’t a thing yet. Not like today, with cars and computers and technology everywhere you turned. She had never experienced the nausea of riding in a mortal vehicle, felt the fear of having a gun pointed at her, or recoiled whenever some human tried handing her a phone, a can of soda, a pocket knife, anything of metal and technology.

  I imagined she had faced swords and holy symbols, fire and protection charms to keep our kind at bay. But her world had been simpler and more primal, not suffused with the iron of mankind’s progress.

  I offered a smile that was mostly grimace. “Okay, so imagine the most sick you’ve ever been,” I told her, “vomiting, nausea, the works—and then imagine someone pouring acid directly down your lungs.” Her noise wrinkled, and I shuddered at the memory. “Trust me, it’s not fun.”

  “It does not sound very fun.”

  “Which is why you need one of these things,” I went on, pulling the amulet from under my shirt again. The stylized raven glittered as it spun on its cord, pulsing with a faint green light. “And why we are going to get you one, right now. It’s the only way you can survive the Iron Realm without throwing up your insides.”