The Iron Legends: Winter's Passage\Summer's Crossing\Iron's Prophecy (3 page)

Very casually, Ash dropped his hand to the hilt of his
sword.

“You could lose your head if you don’t.”

The troll’s nostril’s flared. She glanced at me again, then
back at the Winter prince, claws flexing at her side. Ash didn’t move, though
the air around him grew colder, until the troll’s breath hung in the air before
her face.

Sensing her dire predicament, the huge faery finally backed
off. “Of course, Your Highness,” she muttered, and pointed at me with a curved
black claw. “But if she gets stuffed into a bottle and served as the next drink
special, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Ash, and led me into the
Dungeon.

The Dungeon, for all its eerie decor, turned out to be nothing
more than a bar and nightclub, though it definitely catered to the more macabre
crowd. The walls were brick, the lights dim and red, casting everything in
crimson, and snarling monster heads hung on the walls over the bar. Music
pounded the ceiling from an overhead room, AC/DC screaming out the lyrics to
“Back in Black.”

There were human patrons at the bar and sitting throughout the
room with drinks in hand, but I saw only the inhuman ones. Goblins and satyrs,
phouka and redcaps, a lone ogre in the corner, drinking a whole pitcher of a
dark purple liquid. Unseen and invisible, the Unseelie fey milled through the
throng of humans, spitting in their drinks, tripping the drunker ones, stealing
items from purses and wallets.

I shivered and drew back, but Ash took my hand firmly. “Stay
close,” he murmured again. “This isn’t as bad as upstairs, but we’ll still have
to be careful.”

“What’s upstairs?”

“Skulls, cages and the dance floor. Not something you want to
see, trust me.”

Ash kept a tight hold on my hand as we navigated around tables
and bar patrons, moving toward the back of the room. Grimalkin had
disappeared—normal for him—so it was just us receiving the cold, hungry glares
from every corner of the room. A redcap—a short, evil faery with sharklike teeth
and a cap dipped in his victim’s blood—reached for me as we passed his table,
snagging my shirt. I tried to dodge, but the space was tight and narrow, and the
clawed fingers latched onto my sleeve.

Ash turned. There was a flash of blue light, and a half second
later the redcap froze, a glowing blue sword at his throat.

“Don’t. Try. Anything.” Ash’s voice was colder than the chill
coming off his blade. The redcap’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he very slowly
pulled back his claws. The rest of the Unseelie fey had frozen as well and were
staring at us with glowing, hostile eyes.

“Meghan, go.” Ash kept his threatening gaze on the rest of the
crowd, daring anyone to get up. No one moved. I slipped past him and the redcap,
who was keeping very still in his seat, and moved toward the back of the
room.

“This way, human.” Grimalkin appeared at the edge of a hallway,
his eyes coming into focus before the rest of his body. Behind him, the narrow
corridor was tight, dim and full of smoke. Strangely enough, bookshelves lined
the walls, floor to ceiling—the type you’d find in a library or old mansion, not
a shadowy bar in the French Quarter.

“Okay, why is there a library in the back of a goth bar?” I
asked, peering around at the books. “Spell books for the black arts? Recipes for
human hors d’oeuvres?”

Grimalkin snorted.

“Watch and learn, human.”

At that moment, the bookshelf at the very end of the hallway
swung open, and two college-age girls walked out, laughing and giggling. I
blinked and moved aside as they passed, reeking of smoke and alcohol, and
stumbled back toward the main bar. Looking back, I caught a glimpse of the room
behind the panel as it swung closed—a toilet, a sink and a mirror—and stared
wide-eyed at Grimalkin.

“The
bathroom?
”

Grimalkin yawned. “What humans will not do to keep themselves
entertained,” he mused with half-lidded eyes. “It is even more amusing when they
are drunk and cannot find the door. But I suggest we get moving. That redcap
motley has taken quite an interest in you.”

I looked back to see that the redcap had been joined by three
of his friends, and all four faeries were staring at us and muttering among
themselves. Ash joined us in the hall, his icy blade still unsheathed, tendrils
of mist writhing off it to mingle with the smoke.

“Hurry,” he growled at us, pushing me toward the end of the
hall. “I don’t like the attention we’re getting. Cat, have you opened the
trod?”

“Give me a moment, Prince.” Grimalkin sighed, and sauntered
toward the panel that had so recently opened.

“Wait, aren’t you their prince?” I wondered. “They’re Unseelie,
too, right? Can’t you just order them to leave us alone?”

Ash gave a low, humorless chuckle. “I’m
a
prince,” he replied, still keeping an eye on the redcaps, who in
turn were keeping an eye on us. “But I’m not the only one. My brothers are
looking for you, as well. Rowan has eyes and ears everywhere, I’m sure. He’s
much more ruthless than I am. Those redcaps could work for him, or they could be
spies for Mab herself. Either way, they’re going to inform
someone
of our passing the moment we leave this place. I can
guarantee it.”

“Sounds like a great family,” I muttered.

Ash snorted. “You have no idea.”

“Done,” said Grimalkin from the end of the hallway. “Let us
go.”

“After you,” Ash said, motioning me forward. “I’ll make sure
nothing follows us.”

I slid the panel open, half expecting to see the tiny bathroom
with the stained sink and toilet and scrawled-on walls. Instead, a cold breeze
blew into the hallway, smelling of frost and bark and crushed leaves, and the
gray, misty forest of the Nevernever stretched away through the door.

Grimalkin slipped through first, becoming nearly invisible in
the fog. I followed, stepping through the doorway that became a split tree trunk
on the other side. Ash ducked through and shut the door firmly behind us, where
it faded into nothingness as soon as he let it go, leaving the mortal world
behind.

It was colder in this part of the wyldwood. Frost coated the
ground and the branches of the trees, and the mist clung to my skin with clammy
fingers. I couldn’t see more than a few yards in any direction. Everything was
overly quiet and still, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

“Tir Na Nog is close,” Ash said, his voice muffled by the
clinging fog. His breath did not puff or hang in the air like mine did.
Trembling, I rubbed my arms to get warm. “We should move quickly. I want to get
to Winter as fast as possible.”

I was tired. My legs were cramped, both from riding and
walking, my head hurt and the cold was sapping the last of my willpower. And I
knew from personal experience that it would only get colder the closer we got to
Tir Na Nog.

Thankfully, Grimalkin noticed my reluctance. “The human is
about to fall over from exhaustion,” he stated bluntly, twitching his tail. “She
will only slow us down if we push her much farther. Perhaps we should look for a
place to rest.”

“Soon,” Ash said, and turned to me. “Just a little farther,
Meghan. Can you do that? We’ll stop as soon as we cross the border into Tir Na
Nog.”

I nodded wearily. Ash took my hand, and with Grimalkin leading
the way, we walked into the curling mist.

Minutes later, the howl rang out behind us.

Chapter Three

THE LIVING COLD

Ash stopped, every muscle in his body coiling tight, as
the echo of that eerie cry faded into the mist.

“Impossible,” he murmured, his voice frighteningly calm. “It’s
on our trail again. How? How could it find us so quickly?”

Grimalkin suddenly let out a long, low growl, which shocked me
and caused goose bumps to crawl up my arms. The cat had never done that before.
“It is the Hunter,” Grimalkin said, as his fur began to rise along his back and
shoulders. “The Eldest Hunter, the First.” He glanced at us, teeth bared,
looking feral and wild. “You must flee, quickly! If he has your trail he will be
coming fast. Run, now!”

We ran.

The woods flashed by us, dark and indistinct, shadowy shapes in
the mist. I didn’t know if we were running in circles or straight into the
Hunter’s jaws. Grimalkin had disappeared. Direction was lost in the coiling
mist. I only hoped that Ash knew where he was going as we fled through the eerie
whiteness.

The howl came again, closer this time, more excited. I dared a
backward glance, but could see nothing beyond the swirling fog and shadows. But
I could
feel
whatever it was, getting closer. It
could see us now, fleeing before it, the back of my neck a tempting target. I
stifled my panic and kept running, clinging to Ash’s hand as we wove through the
forest.

The trees fell away, the fog cleared a bit and suddenly a great
chasm opened before us, wide and gaping like the maw of a giant beast. Ash
jerked me to a stop three feet from the edge, and a shower of pebbles went
clattering down the jagged sides, vanishing into the river of mist far below.
The crack in the earth ran along the edge of the wyldwood for as far as I could
see in either direction, separating us from the safety on the other side.

Beyond the chasm, a snow-covered landscape stretched away
before us, icy and pristine. Trees were frozen, covered in ice, every twig
outlined in sparkling crystal. The ground beneath looked like a blanket of
clouds, white and fluffy. Snowdrifts glittered in the sun like millions of tiny
diamonds. Tir Na Nog, the land of Winter, home to Mab and the Unseelie
Court.

“This way.” Ash tugged my hand and pulled me along the chasm,
where the mist from the wyldwood rolled off the edge and down the cliff sides
like a slow-moving waterfall. “If we can get to the bridge, I can stop him.”

Panting, I followed the edge of the gorge and gasped in relief.
About a hundred yards away, an arched bridge, made completely of ice, sparkled
enticingly in the sun.

Something snapped in the woods at our right, something huge and
fast. The Hunter was silent now, no howls or deep throaty bays; it was moving in
for the kill.

We reached the bridge, and Ash pushed me forward onto the icy
surface. There were no guards or handrails, just a narrow arch over a terrifying
drop. Stomach clenching, I started across, trying not to look down. Because the
bridge was ice, it was perfectly clear; I felt I was walking out over nothing,
seeing the dizzying fall right beneath my feet.

My foot slipped, and my heart slammed against my ribs, pounding
wildly as I flailed. Right behind me, Ash grabbed my arm tightly, and somehow we
made it to the other side.

As soon as we were off, the Winter prince drew his sword.
Sunlight flashed along the blade as he raised it and brought it slashing down on
the narrow bridge. The bridge cracked, icy shards glittering as they spiraled
into the air, and he raised the sword for another blow.

Across the chasm, something dark and monstrous broke out of the
trees, fog swirling around it. Through the mist and shadows, I couldn’t see it
clearly, but it was huge, black and terrifying, with burning, yellow-green eyes.
When it saw what Ash was doing, it roared, making the air tremble, then bounded
for the bridge.

Ash brought his sword down again, then once more, and with a
deafening crack, the ice bridge shattered. Our end slid away and dropped into
oblivion, taking with it the entire arch, which clashed and screeched its way
down the side of the cliff. The shadow on the other side slid to a halt, green
eyes blazing with fury as it stalked up and down the edge for a moment, panting.
Then, with a snarl that showed a flash of huge white teeth, it turned and
slipped back into the misty wyldwood, vanishing from sight.

I shuddered with relief and sank down into the snow, gasping,
feeling as if my lungs and legs and whole body were on fire. But as the
adrenaline wore off, I realized how frigidly cold it was on this side of the
chasm. The icy wind cut through my bones and stabbed into me like a knife.

Ash knelt beside me and gently pulled me close, wrapping me in
his arms. I leaned into him, felt his heart racing and shivered against his
chest. He was silent, resting his forehead against mine, saying nothing. Just
there.

“Come on,” he murmured after a few moments. “Let’s find a place
to rest.”

“What about the Hunter?”

He rose, pulling me to my feet. “The Ice Maw runs for miles in
either direction,” he said, nodding at the chasm behind us, “until it meets the
Wyrmtooth Mountains in the north and the Broken Glass Sea in the south. The
Hunter won’t find a way across for a long time. Besides,” he added, narrowing
his eyes, “this is
my
realm. I doubt he’ll attack us
here.”

“Do not be too sure of that, Prince,” said Grimalkin, popping
into view on what was left of the shattered bridge. “The Hunter is older than
you—much older. He does not care whose realm he is in when tracking his prey. If
he is after you, you will see him again.”

I sneezed, causing the cat to pin his ears. Ash took my elbow
and drew me away from the chasm, positioning himself so that he blocked the wind
howling up from the gap. “We’ll worry about that if he ever gets across,” the
prince stated calmly as I hugged myself to conserve heat. “But night is coming,
and so is the cold. We have to get Meghan inside.”

“Before she turns into an icicle? I suppose.” Grimalkin hopped
off the shattered post, landing lightly in the snow. “The only shelter I know of
is old Liaden’s place in the frozen wood. Surely you are not taking the girl
there?” He blinked under Ash’s steady gaze. “You are. Well, this will be
interesting. Follow me, then.” He trotted away, making light paw prints in the
snow, a fuzzy cloud gliding over the whiteness.

“Who’s Liaden?” I asked Ash.

An icy gale howled up from the chasm before he could answer,
slicing into me and tossing drifts of snow into the air. “Later,” Ash said
brusquely, giving me a slight push. “Follow Grimalkin. Go.”

We trailed the paw prints into the woods. Icicles hung from
frozen trees, some longer than my arms and as sharp as a spear. Every so often
one would snap off and plummet to the ground with the tinkle of breaking glass.
The cold here was a living thing, clawing at my exposed skin, stabbing my lungs
when I breathed. I was soon shivering violently, teeth chattering, thinking
longingly of sweaters and hot baths and burrowing under a thick feather quilt
until spring.

The woods grew darker, the trees closer together, and the
temperature dropped even more. By now I was losing feeling in my fingers and
toes, the cold making me sluggish. I felt as if icy hands were grabbing my feet,
dragging me down, urging me to curl up in a ball and hibernate until it was warm
again.

A flash of color in the trees caught my eye. On the branch
above me, a small bird perched on a twig, bright red against the snow. Its eyes
were closed, and it was fluffed out against the cold, looking like a feathery
red ball. And it was completely encased in ice, covered head-to-toe in
crystallized water, so clear that I could see every detail through the
shell.

The sight should have chilled me, but I was so cold all I felt
was the spreading numbness. My legs belonged to someone else, and I couldn’t
even feel my feet anymore. I tripped over a branch and fell, sprawling in a
snowbank, ice crystals stinging my eyes.

I was suddenly very sleepy. My eyelids felt heavy, and all I
wanted to do was lay my head down and sleep, like a bear through the winter. It
was an appealing thought. I wasn’t cold anymore, just completely numb, and
darkness beckoned temptingly.

“Meghan!”

Ash’s voice cut through the layers of apathy, as the Winter
prince knelt in the snow. “Meghan, get up,” he said, his voice urgent. “You
can’t lie here. You’ll freeze over and die if you don’t move. Get up.”

I tried, but it seemed a Herculean effort to even raise my head
when all I wanted to do was sleep. I muttered something about how tired I was,
but the words froze in the back of my throat, and I only grunted.

“The cold has her.” Grimalkin’s voice seemed to come from far
away. “She is already icing over. If you do not get her up now, she will
die.”

My eyelids were slipping shut, even though I tried keeping them
open. If they closed, they would freeze and stay shut forever. I tried using my
fingers to pry them open by force, but a layer of ice now covered my hands and I
couldn’t feel them anymore.

Give in,
the cold whispered in my
ear.
Give in, sleep. You’ll never feel pain
again.

My eyelids flickered, and Ash made a noise that was almost a
growl. “Dammit, Meghan,” he snarled, grabbing both my arms. “I am not going to
lose you this close to home. Get
up!
”

He rose, pulling me to my feet and, before I could even
register what was going on, pressed his lips to mine.

The numbness shattered. Surprise flooded in, as my heart leaped
and my stomach twisted itself into a knot. I laced my arms around his neck and
kissed him back, feeling his arms around me, crushing us together, breathing in
the sharp, frosty scent of him.

When we finally pulled back, I was breathing hard, and his
heart raced under my fingers. I was also shivering again, and this time I
welcomed the cold. Ash sighed and touched his forehead to mine.

“Let’s get you out of the cold.”

Grimalkin had vanished again, perhaps annoyed with our display
of passion, but his delicate paw prints cut plainly through the snow. We
followed them until the trail finally ended at a small, dilapidated cabin
beneath two rotting trees. I wouldn’t think anyone lived there, but smoke curled
from the chimney and a dim orange light glowed through the windows, so someone
must’ve been home.

I was eager to get inside, out of the biting chill, but Ash
took my hand, forcing me to look at him.

“You’re in Unseelie territory now, remember that,” he warned.
“Whatever you see in that room, don’t stare, and don’t make any comments about
her baby. Understand?”

I nodded, willing to agree to anything if I could just be warm
again. Ash released me, stepped onto the creaking, snow-covered porch and
knocked firmly on the door.

A woman opened it, peering out with tired, bloodshot eyes. A
gray robe and cowl draped her body like old curtains, and her face, though
fairly young, was lined and weary.

“Prince Ash?” she said, her voice breathy and frail. “This is a
surprise. What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“We wish to spend the night here,” Ash stated quietly. “Myself
and my companion. We won’t bother you, and we intend to be gone by morning. Will
you let us in?”

The woman blinked. “Of course,” she murmured, opening the door
wide. “Please, come inside. Make yourselves comfortable, poor children. I’m Dame
Liaden.”

That’s when I saw her baby, cradled lovingly in her other arm,
and bit my lip to stifle a gasp. The wrinkled, ghastly creature in a stained
white blanket was the most hideous child I’d ever seen. Its deformed head was
too large for its body, its tiny limbs were shriveled and dead, and its skin had
an unhealthy blue tinge, like it had been drowned or left out in the cold. The
child kicked weakly and let out a feeble, unearthly cry.

It was like watching a train wreck. I couldn’t tear my eyes
away…until Ash nudged me sharply in the ribs. “Nice to meet you,” I said
automatically, and followed him over the threshold into the room. Inside, a fire
crackled in the hearth, and the warmth seeped into my frozen limbs, making me
sigh in relief.

There was no crib anywhere in the cabin, and the woman didn’t
put her infant down once, moving about the room clutching her baby as if she
feared something would snatch it away.

“The girl can take the bed under the window,” Liaden said,
wrapping the baby in another ratty, once-white blanket. “I fear I must go out
now, but please make yourselves at home. There is tea and milk in the cupboards,
and extra blankets in the closet. But midnight draws close, and we must depart.
Farewell.”

Holding her infant close to her chest, she opened the door,
letting in a blast of painfully cold air, and slipped out into the night. The
door clicked behind her, and we were alone.

“Where is she going?” I asked, moving closer to the fireplace.
My fingers were finally getting some feeling back, and were all tingly now. Ash
didn’t look at me.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Ash…”

He sighed. “She’s going to wash her baby in the blood of a
human infant to make her own child whole and healthy again. If only for a little
while.”

I recoiled. “That’s horrible!”

“You asked.”

I shuddered and rubbed my upper arms, looking out the cabin’s
grimy window. Moonlight sparkled through the glass, and the land beyond was
frozen solid. This was Unseelie territory, like Ash had said. I was far from
home and family and the safety of a normal life.

Closing my eyes, I started to shake. What would happen to me
once I reached the Winter Court? Would Mab throw me in a dungeon, or maybe feed
me to her goblins? What would a centuries-old faery queen do to the daughter of
her ancient rival? Whatever it was, I couldn’t imagine it would be good for me.
Fear twisted my gut.