YET ANOTHER PROPHECY
Coaleater was already in the courtyard, leaning against a trunk with his arms crossed, his eyes glowing red in the shadow of the tree. Meghan and ice-boy hadn’t arrived yet, and I didn’t see Grimalkin around, though knowing the cait sith, he could have been anywhere. The same could be said of Nyx, who was also missing. Or at least, not visible at the moment. I wondered if she was hiding in the trees or behind a lamppost, waiting to stab me if I wandered by.
The Iron faery glanced up, then pushed himself off the tree, stretching his massive shoulders. I grimaced as he bent his head to each side with the grinding of what sounded like metal against metal.
“Geez, tin can, how long have you been standing there? Need a little oil between the ears so you don’t rust in place?”
“I am eager to get started,” Coaleater replied calmly, rolling his shoulders back. “If this beast is what is causing the disturbance to the Obsidian Plains, I wish to dispose of it as quickly as possible. That I will be fighting alongside the Iron Queen once more is a great honor. I did not want to cause her any doubt by being late.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, gazing around. “So, where is everyone else? You haven’t seen Nyx hiding in a potted fern or something, have you?”
“Potted ferns are impractical,” said a voice behind me.
I turned to see Nyx step out from behind a tree, where I was certain nothing had been a few seconds ago. Her hood was up, but her eyes shone brightly as she met my gaze, raising a quizzical silver brow. “They make too much noise, and I don’t like all the dirt in my hair. Topiaries work much better, or vases will do in a pinch.”
I wasn’t sure if the Forgotten was joking or not, but at that moment I felt a ripple of power go through the air as the rulers of the Iron Court walked toward us, followed by a very anxious-looking Fix. The Iron Queen was dressed for travel in black jeans, boots, and a coat, her steel sword at her waist. Ash looked the same as he always did, dark and dangerous, his ice blade throwing off a cold blue aura that left tendrils of mist behind him.
Our eyes met over the yard, and for the barest of heartbeats, I could see the question in his eyes. The briefest flicker of hope that we might be okay, that I was back to my normal, goofy, annoying self. That I hadn’t meant what I told him on this very spot, earlier this evening.
I gave him a hard smile and saw that hope vanish instantly, replaced with the blank mask he used to shield his emotions from everyone. Nobody saw it, not even Meghan, who, by the distinct lack of worried or angry glares shot my way, was not aware of our conversation, either. For the moment, it seemed Ash was keeping what went on between us private, which was fine with me. Better that Meghan not become involved; she had enough to worry about. This was just between ice-boy and Robin Goodfellow.
“Is everyone here?” Meghan asked, striding to the center of the group. Her gaze went to Nyx, waiting quietly at my side, and a smile crossed her face. “Nyx. I’m glad to see you on your feet. Are you feeling better?”
The Forgotten bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied. “I apologize for the worry I caused this afternoon. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”
“No apologies necessary,” Meghan said. “Any friend of Puck and Keirran’s is family here. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Nyx gave a solemn nod, which Meghan returned. And for just a moment, I felt a weird ripple of...something...go through me. Meghan and Nyx. The woman I’d loved once and lost, and the assassin who had threatened to kill me but was somehow always in my thoughts. I could see shadows of Meghan in Nyx, and vice versa, that same strength, courage, and determination, though they were two vastly different people.
I’ve seen that look before, Ash had told me earlier. Not often, but enough. You’re falling for her.
No. No way. Nope, nope, nope, I wasn’t going to do this again. It hurt way too much the last time.
“So, to paraphrase a certain cat, are we going to get started or not?” I wondered loudly. “The wyldwood isn’t getting any closer. I take it that, since we’re not perched on the very tippy top of the palace roof, we’re not using gliders this time.”
Gliders were the Iron Realm’s special mode of transportation. Basically, they were giant metal dragonflies that you rode on the wind currents, but not in a normal way that you would ride say, a horse. Nope, these things carried you in their creepy metal insect legs, kind of like a living hang glider, and you yanked on said insect legs to steer them in the direction you wanted to go. They were huge and disturbing and buzzed in your ear the entire time, and I hated using them even more than I hated the spider carriages.
“No, we’re not using the gliders,” Meghan said to my immense relief. “There’s a rather steep learning curve to fly them properly, and I suspect Coaleater will be too big for them to carry.” She gave the Iron horse a respectful nod; he only shrugged. “I’ve sent for a pair of carriages,” the Iron Queen went on. “They’ll take us to the edge of the wyldwood. From there, I trust Grimalkin will lead us the rest of the way.”
I still didn’t see Grimalkin, but I had no doubt he was around, listening to us. Meghan knew it, too. We had dealt with the cait sith often enough to know he would pop up when he was needed and not before.
“Oh goodie,” I sighed. “Carriages. What will these be, I wonder? Giant spiders or those enormous beetles the size of a blimp?”
Meghan gave a weird little smile. “No bugs this time, Puck.” She raised her head to the wind, as if hearing something we could not, and the smile got wider. “They’re coming. Everyone might want to take a few steps back.”
I frowned, but then the hairs on my arms started to rise. The air turned sharp, like the energy before a storm, and a flicker of lightning from the clear night sky made my hair stand up the rest of the way. I took several steps back, as did everyone else, as a blinding flash of blue-white energy struck the center of the courtyard, making me flinch and shield my eyes.
When I looked up, two carriages glowed and flickered in the spot I had been standing moments before. They had no wheels and seemed to float in the air, two giant coppery spheres hovering several inches off the ground. They were pulled by a pair of white, deerlike creatures with horns that spiraled into the air like corkscrews. Their eyes were electric blue, and strands of lightning crawled along their hides and over their slim bodies, snapping in the air around them.
“These,” Meghan announced into the shocked—haha, see what I did there—silence that followed, “are volt hinds, and they are the fastest way to get around the Iron Realm. It should only take us a couple hours to reach the edge of the wyldwood.” Her gaze met mine, a knowing smile crossing her lips. “For those of you who dislike taking the normal carriages.”
“Oh, that’s great,” I said cheerfully. “So, instead of getting eaten by giant spiders, we can now be electrocuted by static goats. I like this so much better. Can they charge your phone while you ride as well?”
The Iron Queen shook her head. “Grimalkin,” she called, ignoring my last question, “are you ready? Do you want to ride with us, or shall we meet you there?”
With a yawn, the gray cat raised his head from where he’d been lying very close to the first carriage. I was quite certain he hadn’t been there two seconds ago. “I was waiting for the rest of the party, Iron Queen,” he stated, rising lazily to his feet. “I do applaud you for deciding to take the volt carriages. We will need their speed if we are ever going to get anything done tonight. Shall we go, then? The night is not getting any longer.”
Meghan nodded, glancing at the rest of us. “We’ll see you in the wyldwood,” she said, and walked toward the first carriage with Ash beside her. The driver, a skinny faery with wires for hair and a whip made of lightning, reached down and opened the door of the floating carriage, and the Iron Queen stepped inside, followed by Grimalkin. Ash didn’t glance at me as he trailed Meghan and the cat into the carriage, ducking through the frame, and the driver shut the door behind him.
It was, I expected, a much tighter fit with Coaleater in the carriage with us. The big Iron faery hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself small in the corner, but he filled nearly the entire seat. Nyx and I sat on the opposite side, trying to avoid his knees, and glancing out the window, I could swear the floating sphere hovered a little lower than before. The driver gave Coaleater a dubious look as he shut the door, and the Iron faery grimaced.
“This is going to be a long ride,” he muttered.
“The Iron Queen said it would take only a couple hours to reach the wyldwood,” Nyx replied, gazing past me out the window. She shifted, and I suddenly was hyperaware of her body next to me, her slim leg brushing my shaggy one.
Coaleater gave a snort. “Not to contradict the Iron Queen, but I am not sure how that is possible,” he rumbled. “Mag Tuiredh lies very deep in the Iron Realm, days from any border. The fastest way to reach the city is by train, and even then—”
There was a sudden crackle of energy around us, the lights outside flickered, and the carriage suddenly lunged into motion. I was flung back and pressed into the wall of the carriage, and Coaleater was nearly yanked out of his seat by the force. Only his enormous mass, weight, and strength kept him from face planting into Nyx’s lap.
After only a few seconds, though, the carriage came to a stop, again so suddenly that I had to brace myself from flying into the opposite seat. I smelled ozone, like the air after a lightning strike, and there was a faint ringing in my ears. Glancing at Nyx, I saw her silver hair standing on end, like she’d jammed a finger in a socket. I couldn’t help but snicker, and she arched a brow at me.
“Don’t laugh too hard, Goodfellow. You look like a lightning gnome just stuck its thumb up your arse.”
Before I could reply, the carriage jolted forward again, and my clever comeback was yanked from my lips and lost in the buzzing of static.
It continued this way for I don’t know how long, short frantic bursts of speed followed by a jarring, sudden stop. Just long enough to draw in a quick breath before the carriage shot into motion again. The few times I thought to look out the window, I had no idea where we were. One time we seemed to be on a street corner, the next we were on an open plain with the moonlight blazing down on us, the next we seemed to be in a forest surrounded by trees.
I felt like I was inside a pinball machine, bouncing wildly from place to place with no time to stop, breathe, or think. Coaleater huddled in the corner with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched, looking straight ahead and waiting for it to be over. Nyx had drawn into her hood and closed her eyes as she leaned back, the picture of calm except for the tight press of her lips and the flexing of her fingers each time the carriage changed direction.
Finally, the ride came to another instant, jarring stop, but this time, it didn’t immediately surge forward. After a few seconds of waiting, bracing myself for another burst of motion, I gradually relaxed, letting my jaw, arms, knees, fingers, and other muscles uncoil. My butt cheeks were clenched so tightly they would feel like rocks for several days.
“Okay,” I breathed as my two companions slowly uncoiled as well, “that settles it. No more complaining about giant spider carriages. I didn’t think there could be anything worse, but apparently I can still be wrong every century or so.”
“That was...interesting,” Nyx mused, trying in vain to smooth down her hair. I reached up to feel my own and found it standing on end like a dandelion puff. Sparks snapped at my fingers as I withdrew my hand. “Where are we now, I wonder?”
“Let’s find out,” Coaleater rumbled, and shoved back the door, letting in a cool breeze that dispersed the charged air of the carriage.
My relief at being out of the carriage was short-lived as I hopped from the doorframe, dropped a few feet, and landed in a pool of standing water up to my knees. My hooves sank into the mud and with a yelp, I leaped for the nearest patch of land, only to find the nice, dry-looking spot of grass I’d aimed for was waterlogged as well. Finding a stump, I perched gingerly atop the wood, shaking out my hooves and surveying our surroundings.
Apparently, we had landed in the middle of a swamp. Pools of black, still water surrounded tiny islands of dry land, dead trees and long cattails poking out of the mud. A few feet away, the carriage floated above the offending water, the two hinds that carried it perched daintily on a rock. The driver, gazing down at me with a half-amused, half-apologetic look, shook his head.
“Forgive me, Master Goodfellow,” he called. “If you had waited a moment, I would have opened the door and also warned you to watch your step.”
“Oh, no worries.” I turned and gave him a wide, toothy grin. “It’s not like I can craft an elaborate prank where every time you venture outside you step in mud for the rest of your life. That’s not something a normal faery could do, right?”
His face blanched, losing the amused look as he stammered a much more heartfelt apology.
I felt a tiny prick of gleeful satisfaction. There was so much I hadn’t done in many, many years; maybe it was time to remind everyone, Iron fey included, why Robin Goodfellow was a faery you did not want to cross.
With a splash, Coaleater dropped from the carriage into the pool of water, not seeming to notice or care about the wet soaking his boots. Nyx was right behind him, only she leaped gracefully from the edge and landed on a mound of dry earth a few feet away. A gust of wind pushed her hood back and caught her silver hair, tossing it around her. My heart twisted, torn between smiling wistfully and hurling a mudball at her.
I looked around and saw the second carriage a few paces away, glowing against the darkness. Unlike our carriage, it had chosen to touch down on a patch of dry land, small but large enough for two people to stand on. Ash was helping Meghan out of the carriage, and Grimalkin sat a couple feet away on a rock, busily washing his tail. For just a second, I thought the cat’s fur looked twice its normal size, poofed out like the feline had just gone through the spin cycle in a dryer. But I blinked, or maybe the moonlight shifted, and the cat was back to normal.
With a crackle of energy, the two carriages sprang into the air, trailing sparks and light, and flashed their way across the swamp. Bouncing from rock to rock, they zipped across the ground like twin balls of lightning. In seconds, they had disappeared.
The three of us sloshed our way toward the rulers of the Iron Realm and their small, dry island in the center of the swamp. “Well, this is a lovely place,” I commented as Coaleater and I splashed up. The fur on my legs was already drenched; I saw no point in trying to pick my way across the dry spots. Unlike Nyx, who somehow did just that. “I take it we’re still in the Iron Realm?”
“Yes,” Meghan replied. “This place is called the Glowing Swamp, and it sits close to the spot where we’ll find the oracle, according to Grim. We’ll have to cross into the wyldwood first, but the border isn’t far. We just might have to get our feet a little wet.”
Beside her on an old log, Grimalkin sniffed. “Speak for yourself, Iron Queen,” he muttered, and hopped off the stump onto a nearby rock. “This way to the oracle,” he called back, trotting into the swamp with his plumed tail held high. “Do try to keep up, and do not think to ‘accidentally’ splash water at me if you wish to reach your destination at all, Goodfellow.”
I snickered. “You wound me, Furball,” I scoffed as the five of us headed into the marsh after the cat. “Why would I use water when mud is so much more entertaining?”
The marsh was still as we followed the cat over puddles and small bits of dry ground, but it was hardly silent. Insects buzzed, a constant drone in our ears, and birds trilled somewhere in the reeds. Every so often, there was a nearby splash as some creature vanished into the dark waters, always gone before I could see it clearly.
Nyx glided along beside me, as graceful and silent as a shadow. A few paces ahead, Meghan and ice-boy led the way, and Coaleater sloshed tirelessly through the mud, steam curling from his nose and mouth to drift away on the breeze. I felt a twinge of nostalgia, of familiarity; how many times had I done this—me and my two closest friends, following an annoying cait sith toward an unknown destination? Circumstances would be different, and our allies would change, but somehow, it was always us four—me, Meghan, Ash, and Grimalkin, on a quest to save the Nevernever once again.
And yet, if that was the case, why did this time feel so different? Maybe because I was different now. Maybe because the happy-go-lucky, smile-even-when-it-hurts, has-a-joke-for-everything goofball was gone, and the faery left behind made everyone slightly uncomfortable. Even me.
An orange glow suddenly lit the darkness, and we came upon a narrow wooden walkway stretching out over the swamp. A lantern hung from one of the posts, swaying gently and filling the air with a high-pitched creaking sound.
“This is the edge of the Iron Realm,” Meghan announced, stepping onto the boardwalk with an expression of relief. Mud clung to her knee-high boots, but the rest of her had escaped mostly unscathed, unlike myself and Coaleater, whose bottom halves looked like we had sloshed out from the set of Swamp Thing. No one doubted or questioned her claim. Like all rulers of Faery, she was strongest while within her own realm and knew instantly when she had left her territory. “Where did you say the oracle lived, Grim?”
Grimalkin leaped atop one of the wooden posts and vigorously shook one back leg, looking indignant that it had dared get wet. Only after he’d sat down and licked it furiously several times did he deign to answer.
“The oracle lives deep in the Black Marsh, whose edge we have only now reached,” the cat replied, rising with a yawn and a wave of his tail. “It is not too far, but it is not terribly close, either.”
“Vague as always, Furball.”
“Does anything else live out here?” Nyx wondered, stepping easily onto the planks. She had managed to keep herself bone-dry through the entire trek, and I both admired her grace and envied her lack of soggy socks.
Meghan nodded, stepping back as the rest of us clambered atop the narrow boardwalk. “There are a few species of fey that call this swamp home,” she told the Forgotten. “But they’re shy and keep mostly to themselves. It’s likely we won’t see anyone until we get out of the marsh.”
After a few minutes, the dry land disappeared, the small islands vanishing beneath the muck, until it was a solid pool of black water and dead trees stretching away into the night. Colored fireflies appeared, bobbing over the surface like tiny Christmas lights, flashing red, green, blue, and pink against the pitch-black water. It was very quiet. Save for the tiny floating lights, nothing moved out in the swamp, no splashes of frogs or fish or startled turtles echoed around us. The surface was as still as a giant black mirror under the stars.
“I feel like we’re being watched,” Nyx murmured beside me.
A grimace crossed my face. “You, too, huh? Oh good. And here I thought I was the only one being paranoid—”
Something flew at me from the water. I spun, catching sight of a long spear, the tip curved in a nasty, serrated barb, flying right at my head. I twisted aside, and the projectile sailed past me into the water.
“Uh, princess?” I called, as all around us, the water started to move. “I don’t think the locals are as shy as you first let on.”
We all spun, glamour flaring and weapons unsheathed, to face the churning waters. I pulled both daggers, watching as a few dozen or so heads broke the surface of the swamp, rising from the muck like zombies. They looked like some sort of merfolk or fish creatures; fins sprouted from their cheeks and ran down their backs, and their taloned fingers were webbed. Rubbery, dark blue skin blinked with dozens of tiny luminescent lights scattered down their arms and shoulders, and a glowing bulb dangled from the top of their skulls like a huge angler fish. Enormous white eyes fixed on us hungrily, and their mouths opened to show rows of gleaming, sharklike teeth.
With furious hisses, the mob of fishmen raised their spears and swarmed toward us.
I tensed, but before anyone could do anything, a massive jolt of power went through the air. A streak of lightning descended from the sky, striking the upraised hand of the Iron Queen with a dazzling flash and a boom that rocked the planks and sent waves through the surface of the swamp. Meghan stood there a moment, strands of blue-white energy flickering around her, making the air crackle with power.
Unsurprisingly, everyone, fish and friend included, went rigid and stared at her.
Lowering her arm, the Iron Queen gazed calmly at the mob of luminescent fishfolk surrounding us. “You know who I am,” she said, and though her voice wasn’t loud, the planks trembled under our feet, and ripples spread through the water. “This does not have to end in violence. Depart in peace, and we will do the same. But attack my companions, and I will have no choice but to defend them.”
For a few heartbeats, the creatures stared at us, baleful hunger battling the obvious fear of the Iron Queen standing in the center of the walkway. Ash stood at Meghan’s side, his posture calm, but his hand resting close to his sword hilt, ready to defend her if needed. I could feel Nyx at my back and caught the shimmer of light from the blades in her hands, back to her full power. For which I was very relieved. And yes, a tiny bit worried, but mostly relieved. Coaleater faced the mob with his arms crossed and his head raised, almost daring them to take one step forward. Grimalkin, of course, was nowhere to be seen.
Then one of the fish creatures hissed softly and drew away, sinking back into the water. As the blackness closed over its head, the rest of the swarm began to follow, sinking into the muck and vanishing from sight, their glowing angler bulbs the final things to be swallowed by the darkness. Within moments, they had all disappeared, and the waters were perfectly still once more.
Meghan slumped, as the power swirling around her flickered once and died, taking the steely Iron Queen persona with it. “What was that about?” she whispered, gazing around the now quiet marshland, her blue eyes narrowed in concern. “The merfolk have never been aggressive. What is going on here?”
“It is the same in the Obsidian Plains,” Coaleater rumbled from the back. “Tensions are rising between fey that have always been peaceful. There is...an anger that I have never felt before. It is why I am here now. And I assume it is why we are going to the oracle.”
“That monster’s influence couldn’t have reached this far,” Nyx began, but before she could finish, a shudder went through the planks at our feet. I looked down through the cracks just in time to see a glowing bulb vanish beneath the water.
“Uh-oh.”
There was a lurch, an earsplitting crack, and then the entire walkway collapsed, plunging us all into waist-deep swamp water.
The waters boiled, and fish creatures surged out of the depths, surrounding us. Clutching spears and baring jagged fangs, they swarmed us like piranhas, stabbing and biting. I dodged a spear thrust at my head, then floundered back as a pair of snapping jaws followed me. Reaching down, I snatched a piece of the broken walkway and shoved it between the nasty set of chompers coming for my face. Serrated fangs snapped shut on the wood, and the fishman gargled in fury.
Coaleater bellowed as a group of fishmen pounced on him, clawing and biting only to recoil with shrieks of pain from a mouthful of iron. His huge fists lashed out, sending several of them flying into the water, though more piled on him as soon as they were gone. A flurry of ice daggers sang through the air in an arc, courtesy of the Ice Prince himself, and the fishmen burbled as they fell back, recoiling from the storm of frozen shards.
I twisted to avoid a pair of spears thrust at my face, feeling the sharpened tips barely graze my skin, and the fury in me roared. Okay, fishies, you wanna play with Robin Goodfellow? Let’s see how you like this little trick. Sloshing back, giving myself a little room, I glanced around at the cluster of fishmen and their spears and smiled. You really shouldn’t run with sharp things. You might poke your eyes out.
With a pulse of glamour, the ring of spears surrounding me began sprouting with vines and flowers, growing rapidly as they bloomed from the wooden shafts, causing the fishmen to pause and stare at their spears in confusion and alarm. A few of them began shaking the spears, trying to remove the blossoms, and I grinned.
Just wait. You haven’t seen anything yet.
Long black thorns shot abruptly from the wood, piercing hands, arms, eyes, and throats, impaling the fishmen on their own spears. A couple of them howled, trying in vain to drop their suddenly spiky weapons, but the thorns had pierced their hands and fingers, and they couldn’t drop it even as the spines continued to grow. They shrieked as the barbs reached their faces and chests, desperately trying to arch away, but their voices were cut off as the thorns slid through their bodies and silenced them. The rest, the ones lucky enough to die quickly, let out choked gurgles and slumped beneath the water, sinking from view.
I felt a brief stab of disgust with myself and quickly squashed it; that was another particularly nasty trick I’d stopped using, but Meghan had given these slimy bastards the chance to run and they’d ambushed us instead. Really, they’d brought this on themselves; I refused to be turned into Goodfellow sushi for a bunch of garbling fishmen.
In the breath of stillness that followed, I looked around to see Nyx slice through a trio of fishmen who had stupidly gotten too close to her, and Coaleater give a bellow of annoyance as his body erupted with flame. The fishpeople clinging to him let out hisses and shrieks as they leaped off the blazing faery into the water. They didn’t surface again.
Silence fell. I glanced around at the others and saw Meghan and Ash standing back to back, swords in hand, surrounded by a ring of dead, scaly bodies. The Iron Queen hadn’t used any of her glamour, but then again, she hadn’t needed it. Meghan was quite the competent swordswoman now, having been trained by one of the best. With a sigh, she lowered her blade and sheathed it at her side as the last few fishpeople decided this wasn’t worth it after all and fled. They slipped beneath the water as suddenly as they had appeared, and we were alone in the swamp once again.
“Well,” I commented, smirking and gazing around at the carnage left behind. “That was fun.” The frozen, charred, stabbed, and dismembered bodies of the fishmen wriggled as they suddenly turned into piles of leeches and lampreys, and I wrinkled my nose as they slithered into the black waters and vanished. “Not very nice of them, collapsing the bridge like that. Although I suppose if I were an unreasonably hostile fishperson, I wouldn’t want a fair fight, either.”
“It was more than that,” Ash said, sheathing his own blade. “This wasn’t just an ambush that would give them the advantage in the water. They knew Meghan wouldn’t be able to use her full power, not without hurting the rest of us.”
I remembered the lightning Meghan had called down from the sky and knew Ash was right; if she had used it against the fishmen while we were all submerged, everyone’s hair would be standing on end right now.
“That they would attack us at all is concerning,” Nyx broke in. She stood chest deep in swampy black water, silver hair floating around her, and looked faintly annoyed that she was now submerged with the rest of us. “Unless things have changed drastically since I’ve been gone, no fey, even mobs of fey, would dare attack the Lady. Are the rules different now?”
“No,” Coaleater said, billowing indignantly in the water, steam rising off him in clouds. “They are not. No fey would attack the ruler of a court. It’s blasphemous to even think such a thing.”
“I wish I knew what was happening,” Meghan said, sounding frustrated. “This isn’t normal behavior for any of them. They didn’t have to die.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead, then gazed behind her at the edge of the boardwalk that hadn’t been submerged in water. “Get us to the oracle, Grim,” she ordered. “I need answers, and I need them now.”
The cat peered down from the edge of the broken walkway, curling his whiskers at us all. “I am doing my best, Iron Queen,” he said in a put-upon voice. “Perhaps if you would all stop playing with fish, we would arrive a lot sooner. Just an observation.” He turned, flicked his tail, and leaped to the edge of the shattered boardwalk. “This way, if you would.”
“Ugh,” Nyx muttered as she hopped gracefully onto the walkway again. “Now I smell like a bog. It’s going to take forever for my boots to dry.”
Coaleater tossed his head, choosing to walk alongside the narrow planks instead of atop them, which was good, as his huge iron body would likely collapse the rest of the walk. Steam billowed off his skin where the water touched the superheated metal. “I could dry them for you,” he said seriously, and snorted a cloud of flame and smoke into the air. “If you don’t mind a few singed spots.”
Nyx grimaced. “I think my soggy boots will be fine.”
The swamp continued, the walkway snaking over water and through fields of cattails and dead trees, colored fireflies bobbing lazily through the air. Gradually, the marshland began to change, the trees growing larger, more twisted and gnarled. The streetlamps jutting out of the water disappeared, and curtains of moss began appearing in the branches overhead, draped like lacy green curtains over the walkway.
“We must be close to the center of the marsh by now,” Meghan mused from up ahead. “How far is it to the oracle, Grim?”
“Not far. In fact...” The cat paused, raising his head, his ears pricked to the breeze. “We are here.”
We stopped. Up ahead, the trees thinned out a little, revealing a small island in the center of a black pond. A wooden cottage sat in the middle of the island, surrounded by a pair of enormous, moss-covered trees, the roots snaking up the walls and curling over the thatched roof like grasping fingers. A pair of naked skulls sat atop the posts at the edge of the island, and a black cauldron huddled in the ashes of a large firepit just outside the door. A flickering orange glow spilled through the single round window in the wall, as inviting as the light coming from the mouth of a dragon.
“Oh,” I commented. “That’s great. This couldn’t scream ‘witch’s house’ any louder if the walls were made of gingerbread.”
Nyx frowned at me. “All the witches’ houses I knew of were made of stone. Or sometimes bones. What is this strange magic where the walls are made of bread?”
“I’ll tell you the story later.”
The wooden door creaked open. A figure emerged from the hut, standing for a moment in the doorframe. From this distance, it was hard to see it clearly; it wore a tattered green cloak or dress, but that was all I could make out. It stood in the frame a moment, gazing right at us, before it lifted an arm in a wave, turned, and went back inside.
“And we’re expected,” I went on. “This just gets better and better.” No one answered me, and I grinned. “Welp, no use standing around here. Shall we go and see what’s for dinner? Hopefully it won’t be us.”
Cautiously, we followed the winding planks toward the island in the center of the pond, hearing the boards creak under our feet. Bullfrogs croaked out in the marsh, and hanging vines dripped warm water onto our heads.
Meghan walked up to the door and raised an arm to tap on it, but a quiet voice echoed through the wood before she made contact.
“It is open, Iron Queen.”
Meghan pushed the door open. It swung back with a groan, revealing a small, cozy room, a fireplace crackling on the far wall. Crystals, bones, and other, stranger things hung on strings from the ceiling, dangling throughout the room and catching the firelight. I ducked a pair of bird feet as I stepped through the door, the tiny claws withered and dry as they spun on the twine.
A chair sat before the fireplace, its back to us. It was occupied, but all I could see was a slender hand and forearm, and the hem of a ragged green cloak. As everyone but Coaleater stepped into the room, the arm lifted in a vague greeting, accompanied by the same voice.
“I knew you were coming, Iron Queen. Come in, come in. Though, be informed, the floor will collapse if the Iron creature steps in any farther. That I have seen.”
Coaleater blew out a breath of steam and tossed his head. “I will wait outside,” he informed us, and wandered away toward the edge of the island, presumably to keep watch. The rest of us crowded inside, ducking trinkets and paraphernalia, until we were all clustered together in the small room.
The figure in the chair rose, turning to face us. My brows arched. I’d been expecting a withered hag, a hunchbacked old crone with crooked talons and dental problems. Like the previous oracle. I was not expecting a young, beautiful faery with perfectly manicured nails and long raven hair without a strand of gray in it. She stood tall, unbowed, though her gaze seemed to stare right through us at the opposite wall. It seemed rather odd, until I noticed her eyes. They had been blue once, but were now hazy and clouded over, the pupils focusing on nothing. She was blind.
“It is not polite to stare, Robin Goodfellow,” the faery said without looking at me. “My eyes may not work, but I see more than you could ever imagine.”
“I dunno about that,” I said, just to be contrary. “I can imagine a lot.”
Meghan stepped forward before I could say anything else. “You are the oracle, I presume.”
“Am I?” The faery put a hand to her eyes, peering out between her fingers. “I suppose that’s right,” she muttered. “Hard to claim otherwise. When you see these things, you are either an oracle or delirious.”
“Or both,” I put in. “Both is always an option, I’ve found.”
Meghan shot me a look that said, How is this helping? before turning back to the oracle. “We need your help, Oracle,” she went on, getting right to the point. “I will be brief, because there might not be much time. There is some sort of terrible creature plaguing the Nevernever. It radiates negative emotions, is immune to glamour, and has the power to change faeries into crueler versions of themselves. We need to know what it is, and where it might be now.”
The oracle’s already pale face went even whiter, her cloudy eyes getting huge and round. “No,” she whispered, turning violently away. “It cannot be that time. It is too soon. Too soon, too soon. Evenfall comes. All is emptiness, and darkness, and nothing.”
“What is?” Meghan stepped forward, and the oracle cringed back, hands flying to her face. “What are you talking about?”
“I do not know.”
“You are the oracle,” Ash put in, stepping up beside Meghan. “You must know. What have you seen that is causing you such distress?”
The oracle sobbed, spinning away, her arms gesturing uselessly at nothing. “I do not know!” she wailed. “I cannot see. There are pieces of me that are gone. Missing. The thieves who stole them left only holes behind.” The oracle whirled back, clutching at her face. “Can’t you see? I cannot remember! Those memories are gone, and I cannot remember the memories that were stolen.”
“Someone stole your memories?” I snorted, which made Meghan frown. Years ago, when Meghan had first come to the Nevernever, she had traded one of her own memories to the previous oracle to get answers. “Well, ignoring that bit of delicious irony,” I went on, smiling gleefully, “how did that happen?”
The new oracle trembled, then slumped to her chair, still covering her face. “I died,” she whispered. “Or the one who was oracle before me died. Her memories are supposed to be mine, or I am supposed to remember her visions of before, but when I came back, I was not whole. Pieces of me, of her, missing. Pieces stolen away, gone forever.”
“The Forgotten,” Meghan said, making Nyx straighten. The assassin had been standing quietly in the corner, watching the proceedings with her arms crossed, but at Meghan’s statement she immediately raised her head. The Iron Queen regarded the distraught oracle, her face grim in the firelight. “Ethan told me he was there when the previous oracle died,” she murmured. “A group of Forgotten drained her of all her glamour so that she Faded away.” She turned to find Nyx, meeting the Forgotten’s gaze. “Could they be the thieves she’s talking about?”
“Perhaps,” Nyx said softly. “The Forgotten don’t just drain glamour. They can steal emotion and memory as well. If these Forgotten were responsible for her death, it is possible that they would possess bits of the oracle’s memories.”
“Or in this case, her visions,” Ash muttered.
“Hold on a second.” I held up a hand. “Let me see if I have this right. So, are you telling me we have to go track down these Forgotten who stole your memories several years ago, not knowing where they are or if they’re even still alive, to ask them about these visions they probably don’t even understand?”
“I could...feel them,” the oracle whispered. “Like tiny embers, flickering, flickering. Most have already flickered out. The others...are terrified. That’s all I can sense from them now. Fear. There were several once. Now there is only one.”
“Where?” Ash questioned.
The oracle scrunched up her forehead, as if thinking hard or trying to remember something difficult. “I...I saw... a castle,” she finally whispered, the words dragged out of her. “Surrounded by thorns and roses, filled with broken statues. Something watches from the window of the highest keep. A fountain in the middle of the courtyard, still spewing clear water. A curse of sorrow and regret holds everything captive.”
“I know that place.”
Grimalkin. I had forgotten he was still there. We all turned to the cat, who was sitting calmly on an end table with his tail curled around his feet, watching us.
“Yes,” he announced. “Before you ask, I can take you there.” His tail gave a few agitated thumps against the end table before he went on. “However, I will warn you, it is a place of misfortune. Of nightmares come to life. There is a powerful curse worked into the very stones, and the keeper of the castle does not take kindly to visitors.”
“Nothing in the Briars takes kindly to visitors, Grim,” Meghan said, and I nodded in agreement. “If you know where this place is, we need to go and find this Forgotten. It sounds like this monster, whatever it is, has been part of the oracle’s visions. All the more reason to learn as much about it as we can.”
“The light flickers,” the oracle murmured. “A darkness is approaching, seeking to swallow it whole. To snuff it out. Closer, closer.” She paused, and then her whole body slumped as she sank to the floor, her voice a ragged whisper. “Gone.”
I shivered at the deadness in her tone, as if she had just lost something that could never be recovered. The Iron Queen took one step forward and knelt in front of the oracle, her voice and expression gentle as she placed a hand on her arm. “Will you be all right here, Oracle?”
“I am broken,” was the flat reply. “I am a shell, missing pieces scattered to the wind. My Sight gazes into the darkness, searching for fragments of the future, and sees nothing. Is it my eyes that are empty? Or is it because there is nothing to see?”
A violent spasm rocked her thin body, and she toppled forward out of the chair. Meghan caught her, holding her steady, as Ash stepped forward in concern. She gave him a quick look, shaking her head, and the Ice Prince halted, though he continued to watch them both.
“I saw him,” the oracle whispered as Meghan gazed at her, her features grim. “For just a moment, I saw his face. The bright one. He shone against the darkness, and the darkness swallowed him whole.” She blinked and looked up at Meghan, a spark of lucidity returning to her face. “Evenfall comes, Iron Queen,” she said. “The darkness sleeps now, but I can feel it stirring, deep beneath Faery. I feel the ripples as it shifts and moves, growing more conscious of the world above. I fear we are close to the end.”
“The end of what?”
“Everything.”
And with that, the oracle slumped in Meghan’s arms with a soft moan, and none of the Iron Queen’s gentle prodding drew any response.
“Okay, on that cheerful note, maybe we should go,” I offered. “Places to be, Briars to hack through, cursed castles to assault, that sort of thing. You ready to get us out of here, Furball?”
Grimalkin yawned. “As soon as the Iron Queen is finished.”
Meghan stood, drawing the oracle to her feet, and helped her back into her chair. The faery slumped against the side, mumbling, her eyes glazed once again, and the Iron Queen stepped back.
“We’re done here,” she murmured, turning around. For a moment, the stern persona of the Iron Queen shone through, steely-eyed and terrible. But she shook herself and glanced at the rest of us. “Let’s go, everyone. Grim? Take us into the Briars.”
“As you wish.”