Page 60 of The Iron Raven

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 actually hurt the thing. Turns out, swords and daggers are not very effective in cutting down trees. Treants also had really,reallylong 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 wasjustthinking 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.”

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