Page 10 of The Iron Raven

We joined the Forgotten King and the cat in front of another mirror, this one making our heads look like watermelons. I looked down and saw that, for whatever reason, Grimalkin’s reflection didn’t seem distorted at all. Maybe he was too short. Or maybe the cat refused to look ridiculous in any fashion. It wouldn’t surprise me.

“The Veil is thinnest at this spot,” Keirran murmured, gazing into the depths of the mirror, as if he could see something beyond the warped glass. “We should be able to enter the Between right through...here.”

Stepping close, he raised a hand and pushed his fingers through the mirrored surface, like he was dipping them into water. Casually, he swept his arm aside, and the glass parted like it was a pair of drapes, revealing utter darkness beyond. A few tendrils of mist writhed from the opening and coiled around his feet.

I sighed and shook my head. “It always creeps me out when he does that.”

“After you,” Keirran told us. Grimalkin was already through the frame, vanishing into the black with his tail held high. Nyx gave me a look and slipped through the opening after him, her cloak fluttering behind her.

A cold breeze wafted through the opening, and I grimaced. “You know,” I told Keirran, “I was just thinking I haven’t jumped through a spooky, mysterious crack in a while. Always a fun time with you around, princeling.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Keirran responded dryly.

I snorted. “Stop acting like your dad. One broody, sarcastic dark prince is enough.”

He just smirked at that. I gave him a return grin and ducked through the opening, into the cold, misty spaces of the Between.

The Between, also known as the Veil, is quite literally the shroud between Faery and the human world. It keeps mortals ignorant of the fey, and if you cross into the Nevernever from the human realm, you very briefly pass through the Between, as the edges touch both worlds. It is also the realm of the Forgotten, and don’t ask me how Keirran and an entire race of fey can exist in a place supposedly the width of a bedsheet. It’s Faery; things don’t make sense, and that’s just how it is.

“Okay, here we are.” My voice echoed weirdly in the emptiness that now surrounded us. Most of the Between was full of nothing, a void that went on forever. The only thing as far as the eye could see was the eerie gray mist that hung in the air and writhed along the ground. “I forgot what a cheerful place this is. Don’t you Forgotten ever miss the sun?”

Keirran smiled, but a strange look crossed Nyx’s face, a shadow of fear that she couldn’t quite conceal beneath the hood. “Not everything looks like this now,” the Forgotten King said, seeming unaware of the brief flash of dread in the faery beside him. “The Between isn’t quite so empty anymore. I’ve given some of the Forgotten leave to build their own towns and villages, provided they can find an anchor.”

“A whatsit?”

“An anchor, Goodfellow,” answered Grimalkin in a bored voice. “A thing that exists both in the real world and the Between. Typically, you can imagine anything into existence within the Veil—an entire kingdom if you like—but it never stays for long. It’s not real, you see. Unless you have an anchor to hold it in place.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll just nod and pretend I know what the heck you’re talking about.”

Keirran lifted his head, as if sensing something invisible. “The Between feels strange,” he murmured, his brow furrowing slightly. “Chaotic. Fearful.” He shook his head with a frown. “I haven’t felt anything like this since the war with the Lady.”

Nyx stepped forward. “We should move, Your Majesty,” she said in a soft voice. “We don’t want to linger here. If something spawns now, it might be very dangerous.”

I raised my hand. “Um, hi. Yeah, for all you Forgotten types and know-it-all Furballs, can we pretend that there is someone here who doesn’t know all the weird intricacies of the Between and the Veil? What’s this about spawning? Are we very close to a frog pond?”

Keirran took a deep breath. “The Between,” he began, glancing at me, “is constantly changing. It is...well, it is almost alive, in that it will latch on to any strong sentiment or emotion and manifest that thought into a reality. If your will is powerful enough, you can create almost anything in the Between. But without an anchor, those manifestations fade almost as soon as they are created. Without that keystone, nothing here is real.”

“But things can still spawn in the mist.” This from Nyx, her moon-colored eyes seeming to glow in the shadows of her hood. “Emotions like fear, anger, confusion... The Between can create things simply based on what you are feeling at the time. And if you are experiencing a particular emotion, say, the memory of how terrifying it was to be chased by a pack of rabid wolves through a twisted forest—”

“We might find ourselves running from said pack of rabid wolves. Got it.” I tapped my knuckles to the side of my head. “Sometimes I need a good clubbing with the ol’ clue bat, but I get it eventually.”

“There is a ruin close by,” Grimalkin put in, sounding bored and impatient at the same time. “And I believe we must pass through it on the way to Phaed.” He rose, arching his back in a catlike stretch before he turned, fuzzy tail waving behind him. “I suggest we head in that direction, before something comes swooping out of the mist at us.”

“Swooping is bad,” I agreed. “After you, Furball.”

We walked in silence for a bit, the only sounds the hollow shuffle of our feet in the mist and fog. I didn’t even know what I was walking on; the ground was completely swallowed by a carpet of white, and the dim nonlight made it impossible to see anything in detail. If you have ever been on a lonely road where the fog was so thick you could barely see the shapes of the trees at the edge of the pavement, that was what the Between was like. Only there were no trees. Or sun. Or ground, as far as I could tell. Everything looked exactly the same, and if I didn’t know the mighty Furball always knew where he was going, I would’ve been a teensy bit concerned that we were walking in circles.

“So. Your name is Robin Goodfellow.” Nyx’s comment startled me; I’d been about to start pestering Grimalkin, just to hear the sound of someone’s voice in the dead silence. I glanced over and found her watching me, an appraising look in her golden eyes. “You’ve been around a long time?”

“A bit.” I shot her my best cheeky grin. “Not as long as you, apparently. But I know my way around the Nevernever. I’m no Furball, but within the courts and the surrounding territories at least, I’ve seen all there is to see.”

“You’re part of this...Summer Court, yes? What is it like?”

“Loud,” I told her. “Busy. The Seelie fey love dancing and music and parties, getting drunk on faery wine, getting naked under the full moon. Don’t let that fool you, though—they’re not a nice bunch. None of the Seelie are. Oh, I suppose they’re not as violent as the Winter Court.Theiridea of a good time is to rip your limbs off and beat you to death with them. But Summer fey will turn you into a rosebush for the fun of it, or feed you faery cake until you die because you can’t stop eating it, or sic their hounds on you for something as small as ‘borrowing’ their favorite hairbrush. I might just be talking about Titania now.”

“Titania?”

“Oberon’s wife. Queen of the Summer Court.” I made a face. “Mistress of Spite, Lady of Pettiness, and Monarch of Temper Tantrums.”

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