by Julie Kagawa
Meghan glanced over her shoulder with a smile, blue eyes affectionate as they settled on the Iron faery. “Hopefully there won’t be any spiders this time,” she said, one hand resting easily on her sword hilt. “We’ve learned a lot since then. When I first came through here with Ironhorse, I was younger, and much more...” She paused.
“Reckless?” Ash said quietly beside her.
“Impulsive,” Grimalkin added up front without turning around.
“Prone to shrieking?” I put in, not about to be left out.
The Iron Queen glared at us all. “All those things, I suppose,” she said in a flat voice that hinted at retribution later on. I would’ve been mildly alarmed, if it wasn’t for Ash’s almost-there smile. Coaleater looked uncomfortable, as if needling the queen of the Iron fey was something he wouldn’t have dared try, but Nyx had a slight grin on her face.
The Iron Queen rolled her eyes. “So, yes, I was much younger then,” she continued. “And we did run into several creatures that might have required a strategic retreat.”
“You mean the piskie swarm, the giant spider, and the pissed-off dragon?” I snickered. “That’s a fancy way of saying we ran away screaming like bean sidhes.”
“Please keep the screaming like bean sidhes to a minimum,” Grimalkin sighed from up ahead. “It alerts everything in a five-mile radius to our presence, which is something we are trying to avoid.”
The Briars continued, an endless wall of thorns that were never still. You would think that after a while, the constant slithering, snapping, rustling sounds would just become white noise, but that was the special thing about the Briars: they never got to the point where you were comfortable. Every snapped twig, every moving branch or vibrating leaf reminded you that things lurked just out of sight in the darkness. And if you let down your guard for just a moment, something would reach through the brambles and drag you into the thorns.
As we moved deeper into said thorns, the tunnel suddenly opened up. We stepped from a tight, claustrophobic passage into a vast forest of vines. Huge, twisted branches, caught somewhere between a thornbush and a tree, rose up until they joined the interlocking web of briars far overhead. Thin streams of sunlight barely pierced the canopy, ribbons of light slicing down through the hanging darkness and casting mottled patches of gold over the ground. Monstrous vines, some of them in bloom, dangled from tree limbs, filling the air with the scent of rotting flowers, and the forest floor was carpeted in a blanket of moss several inches thick. Everything was tinted green, and in the cool, dim stillness, you could almost hear things growing.
Cautiously, we moved through the grove, feeling the ancientness of the place surround us. The ground under my hooves was spongy and thick, like we were walking on a giant angel cake, muffling our footsteps and absorbing all sound.
“So, anyone else have a craving for sponge cake?” I asked. And even though I kept my voice soft, it still seemed to reverberate through the grove, a too-loud intruder definitely out of place. Which, of course, just made me want to talk more.
Ash and Grimalkin gave me exasperated looks. “Do be aware that we have entered Thorn Sister territory, Goodfellow,” the cat chided, his tail flicking agitatedly back and forth. “They are not very tolerant of intruders and have been known to shoot first, ask questions later. Perhaps we should not risk attracting their—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. One second, the cat was there, trotting over the ground, the next, he passed beneath a low hanging branch and vanished.
I groaned. “Looks like we already did.”
Ash stopped and drew his sword. Meghan and I followed suit, as around us, figures seemed to melt out of the undergrowth like they were part of the brambles themselves. A dozen or so riders on the backs of very green, spiky deer with antlers resembling thorn branches. They looked like part of the Briars had come to life and twisted themselves into creatures resembling stags, draped with moss and bristling with thorns. The riders themselves were the same color as their mounts, thin and spindly elves with moss green hair and spiky black thorn armor. They were all female.
The deer surrounded us, the riders peering down with hard black eyes, arrows nocked but not pointed at us—not yet, anyway. They didn’t say anything, either to threaten or ask questions, but the aura of silent menace that came from the group was obvious.
Meghan stepped forward, the persona of the Iron Queen settling over her like a mantle. Raising her head, she faced the warriors without a hint of fear. “I am Meghan Chase, queen of the Iron Realm,” she announced in a clear, confident voice. “We want no trouble. My companions and I are simply passing through the Briars. If we have trespassed into your territory, I apologize, but I do ask that you move aside and let us through.”
A soundless murmur went through the riders surrounding us, and the deer shifted nervously. Then, the largest of the stags, the one with a truly impressive rack of thorny antlers, stepped forward, parting the others before it. The rider atop the stag wore a headpiece that looked like it was made of brambles and bone, and a mossy green cape fluttered behind her.
For a moment, she gazed down at Meghan, who faced her calmly. Though Ash was a tightly coiled spring at Meghan’s back, ready to explode into action if needed.
Then, in a surprisingly quick motion, the rider dismounted, took one step forward, and sank to a knee before the queen, bowing her head. I took a furtive breath, releasing the grip on my daggers as the tension, both in the riders and the rest of us, abated instantly.
“Iron Queen.” The kneeling figure’s voice was soft but raspy, like two branches slithering over one another. “The Thorn Sisters recognize your sovereignty and welcome you to our hunting grounds. You and your companions are free to come and go as you please. You will face no repercussions from us or the rest of our tribe.
“However,” the Thorn Sister went on, and bowed a little lower, pressing both hands to the mossy floor, “we have a favor to ask of you, Iron Queen. We felt your approach on the wind. The thorns themselves spoke of your coming. We are hoping you will be able to help us.”
“I can make no promises,” Meghan replied gently. “But I will at least hear you. What is it you need of me?”
“A great shadow has come to our territory,” the Thorn elf went on. “We share our hunting grounds with many creatures... With the hedge wolves and living mounds and the Stingfly piskie clan. Occasionally, our paths will cross, but we are all predators, and we respect each other’s strengths, so there are few conflicts. But recently, something has changed. The treants, once our most peaceful neighbors, have become aggressive and violent. They wander through the Briars, attacking and killing anything they come across, and several of our warriors have fallen to their unprovoked attacks. We do not have the power or the numbers to survive a war with the treants, even if we wanted one. We were hoping they would listen to a queen of Faery.”
“Treants are attacking people unprovoked?” Meghan echoed, frowning. “That’s not like them at all. Have they given any reason for these assaults?”
“No, Your Highness.” The Thorn Sister shook her head. “We don’t know why they are so angry... They rebuff any of our attempts to speak with them peacefully. The only things they say, over and over again, are ‘leave’ and ‘unclean.’”
“That is weird,” I agreed.
The treants, enormous living, walking, sentient trees, were notorious for being nonviolent and peaceful, almost to the point of pacifism. Of course, being walking, talking trees, they didn’t have many natural enemies unless the Briars were plagued by an infestation of giant beavers. Only the most depraved or callous could provoke a treant’s wrath, but when they did become angry, oh boy, just get out of their way and let them do their thing, or risk being swatted like a mosquito. Fighting a treant was right up there with doing battle with an ancient dragon; it could be done, but it was going to be a long, difficult slog fest figuring out how to a
ctually hurt the thing. Turns out, swords and daggers are not very effective in cutting down trees. Treants also had really, really long memories, and had been known to bide their time for centuries until they finally took their revenge, sometimes eons later.
In short, not something you wanted to piss off.
Meghan looked troubled. With a sigh, she turned to the rest of us. “I know we have to reach the castle quickly and find the Forgotten,” she began, “but I feel this isn’t something we can ignore, especially if people are dying.”
“I agree,” Ash said. “The treants should not be this hostile. Something is wrong, and we should get to the bottom of it, before it goes any further.”
“Any objections from the rest of you?” Meghan asked, glancing at me.
I shrugged. “No arguments here, princess. I was just thinking it was nearly time for the ‘something huge is trying to squish you’ part of my day. Hey, did ice-boy ever tell you about the time we raced each other to the top of a tree, only to have that tree try to scratch us off once we got there?”
“Completely unprovoked, I’m sure,” Meghan deadpanned, and turned to Nyx and Coaleater. “Are you two still with us?” she asked. “I won’t force anyone to come. Treants can be dangerous when they’re not being hostile. You can remain here, or I can send you on to the castle with Grimalkin.”
“I am with you, Your Majesty,” Coaleater said, almost before she finished speaking. “Whatever you must do, whatever needs to be done, I am here to aid you in all your decisions. That has always been the Iron herd’s promise.”
Nyx bowed her head but shot a quick glance at me before she did so. “I stand with the Iron Queen,” was all she said.
“Where are the treants coming from?” Meghan asked, turning back to the Thorn Sister. Guess that meant we were going to chop down some talking trees. Or at least try to have a friendly conversation with them. Fine by me, I’d been wondering when the Briars would start getting interesting.
“Many of them have gathered in the Green Darkness,” the elf replied, pointing a long finger in a random direction. “It is a pocket of wood that is deeper and more tangled than most, and lately the very land has started turning against us. We don’t dare venture close anymore. Sometimes the treants wander as far as the borders of our camp, but most of them seem to return to that area.”
“All right,” Meghan said, stepping back. “We’ll go check it out, see what has the treants so agitated. Until we can, I would have your people avoid the Green Darkness. With any luck, we can turn things back to normal soon.”
“We appreciate it, Your Majesty.” Rising, the Thorn Sister bowed again, then turned and swung atop her stag mount. “You have the gratitude of the Thorns. May the ground under your feet be clear, may the brambles never hinder your path, and may all your hunts be fruitful.”
Meghan nodded. At a word from the leader, the group of mounted elves turned and leaped silently into the brambles, passing through the thorns as easily as a fish tossed back into the river. With the faintest of rustles, the briars closed behind them, and they were gone.
“Okay,” I announced into the sudden silence. “Marching into hostile tree territory, nothing we haven’t done before. Though I feel like I’m going to need an ax. A magic one preferably. Anyone have one of those lying around? They’re usually gold, with a nice leather handle, and sometimes they sing.”
“The treants should not be this hostile,” Ash said with a slight frown, ignoring me. “Not without reason.”
“Yes,” Meghan agreed. “If something has angered them, then we need to find out what it is. That means we’re going to try talking to them first. And let’s hope they’ll be interested in answering our questions, because I don’t feel like fighting a mob of giant trees in the middle of the Briars.”
“They will not attack the Iron Queen,” Coaleater said, frowning at me but sounding a bit confused as well. “Even I have heard of the treants... They are among the oldest and wisest denizens of the Nevernever and have always recognized the kings and queens of Faery. To even think of threatening the queen is profane. It would be akin to the Summer knights turning on King Oberon or Queen Titania. Unless we are at war, Faery does not raise its hand to the rulers of the courts.”
“Sorry, Rusty, but I think the fishpeople in the swamp would disagree with you. That might’ve been true before, but it seems all bets are off now.”
“Yes,” Meghan said gravely. “Which means we need to be very careful.”
“Yep,” I said. “But I still want an ax, just in case they’re not interested in talking. Then I can really ‘ax’ them a question.” I grinned and looked around at the somber faces, before rolling my eyes. “Really? Nothing? You guys suck.”
* * *
“Have you noticed all these dark, tangled places have very nearly the same names?” I asked as we made our way deeper into the Briars, following the path the Thorn Sister had pointed out. “The Green Darkness, the Deep Tangled, the Dark Tangled Woods of Everdark and Gloomy? We never get to go to the Friendly Briars or the Cheery Tanglewood. Although, now that I think about it, that might be even scarier than the Dark Tangled Woods of Everlasting Doom.”
“Goodfellow,” Grimalkin sighed from up ahead. The cat had appeared once the stag riders had disappeared, announcing that he knew the way to the Green Darkness, because of course he did. “Must you make noise simply for the sake of making noise? How is any of this relevant?”
“Oh, come on. Where would you rather plunk down a nice cabin, the Dark Tanglewood or the Smiling Forest of Too Many Butterflies—”
Of course, that was when one of the many enormous trees we were passing beneath reached out and swung at me.
The party scattered, leaping back as a huge, moss-covered limb came crashing down right in the center of us all. It rose as the giant creature it was attached to stepped out of its perfectly camouflaged hiding spot and towered over us, thirty feet of gnarled, moss-covered tree person with clawlike hands and hollow eyes peering out of a lined, walnut-colored face.
“Leeeeeaaaave,” it rumbled, glowering down at us. Its legs made the ground shake as it took a step forward, looming over us and blocking out the sky. “Leeeaaave, or I will crush you alllll.”
“Forest guardian, stop!”
Meghan stepped forward, power snapping around her like lightning. “We are not your enemies,” she called up to the living tree. “We are not here to hurt the forest or disturb any of your charges. If something has angered you, we want to set things right. Please, tell us what is wrong.”
The treant’s lined, gnarled face twisted in a grimace of disgust and rage.
“Unclean,” it rumbled. “Infected. Flesh pods. Spreading your filth. Destroying all that is green.” It swept a tree trunk limb into the air menacingly. “Leave this place. Leave. Leeeeeeeeeeeave.”
The limb came crashing down toward Meghan, who threw up a hand as Ash tensed to spring at it. Summer glamour swirled around her, causing flowers to sprout and grass to grow at her feet. The treant’s giant arm slowed, then came to a shuddering halt in midair. Its beady eyes bulged, and it strained against the magic holding it back, but it seemed to have hit an invisible wall. Or the magic of the Seelie King’s daughter. The only being more powerful than Meghan when it came to Summer magic was Oberon himself.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Meghan said, her voice slightly strained. “Please, stop this. We only wish to talk.”
The treant roared. Dark purple-black thorns erupted from its back and shoulders, and its beady eyes turned red. Reeling back, it sank spiny fingers into the ground, and the earth around Meghan erupted with thick black briars that curled over her like a giant fist. I caught a split-second glimpse of Meghan throwing out her hands, and Ash going for his sword, before the spiky branches clenched shut and they disappeared beneath.
“Okay, peace talk’s over!” I drew my blades as Coaleate
r let out an angry bellow and charged, fire streaming behind him. I felt my glamour surge to life, felt my body dissolve into dozens of tiny, feathery bodies that spiraled into the air and flapped angrily toward the tree man.
The treant turned toward us, red eyes blazing, and howled. One giant limb swooshed toward me, but the swarm of my bird selves veered aside. The few that did get caught exploded into small clouds of black feathers that drifted lazily toward the ground. The rest of them came on, cawing angrily as they swooped around its head.
From the bramble knot on the ground, there was a pulse of frigid blue light, a moment before the branches turned to ice, then shattered. Splinters and frozen thorns flew into the air, and an angry Ice Prince stepped from the frozen rubble, sword glowing blue in his hand. Behind him, Meghan shook brambles from her hair, brushing away leaves and twigs as she followed.
I dove from the rest of the flock and swooped toward them, changing to my regular self in a poof of feathers as I landed. “Princess, you okay?”
“Yes.” Her voice was calm but resigned as she moved beside Ash, gazing up at the raging treant.
Coaleater stampeded around its gnarled ankles, kicking and breathing flames, while Nyx was a quicksilver shadow scrambling over its head and shoulders, moonlight blades flashing.
“It’s not going to stop,” Meghan sighed, watching the treant as it thrashed and bellowed in rage. One of its flailing limbs caught another tree, sending it crashing to the ground, and Meghan winced. “Dammit. I don’t want to, but if we must do this, let’s do it quickly.” She glanced at us, her expression now resolved. “I’ll need the treant to be completely still for a moment,” she told us. “Not long, but it cannot move for at least five seconds. Can you and the others handle that?”
