The Iron Witch (21 page)

“Maker!” she called.

The old man’s eyes fell on her and widened in shock. “Donna! What are you doing here, child?”

She almost rolled her eyes at being called “child” by yet another person, but she was too pleased to see him to really care. “At the risk of sounding like a clichéd movie, I’m here to rescue you.”

Maker didn’t get the reference, but she could see the battle between concern and relief playing out on his exhausted face.

The queen swept her hand wide. “See? Here is your Maker. Unharmed, despite what he would do to my kin.”

Donna tried not to show any reaction, biting her lip.
What did Aliette mean?
But before she could think about it any further, the Wood Queen rose to her full height and looked down on the small group gathered around her throne.

“Where is the elixir of life?”

Maker’s eyes grew wide under his bushy gray brows. He glanced at Donna, but she refused to meet his gaze. “I’ll give it to you as soon as you let the prisoners go. They will wait for me at the door, and then we’ll all leave together.”

The Wood Queen hissed. “I have shown good faith—I gave you your human boy
and
the old magician. You have not yet proved to me you even have the elixir.”

Donna swallowed.
Okay, that was true
. But Aliette had taken her friends in the first place—she’d replaced them with doubles and was willing to do anything in her quest to save her people. Still, there was something to be said for good faith.

Slowly, Donna reached into her pocket.

As soon as she moved, the hissing elves slid forward, closing the gap between them until she felt almost claustrophobic.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m just showing it to you.”

She felt cornered. They were so close to escaping, but they had one final—and potentially deadly—obstacle to overcome. Donna now knew that there was no way she could give the elves something so potent, no matter what doubts she had about the Order. None of that mattered; not if the elixir really
did
heal and create new life, or even bestow immortality on those who drank it. The whole situation seemed crazy, even with the upbringing she’d had—but then again, she’d seen a brass statue of a guy’s head scream today. Her life had just reached a whole new level of crazy, and she wasn’t going to take any chances.

She licked her dry lips and grasped the pouch inside her pocket. With her forefinger and thumb she squeezed once, quickly and with just enough pressure to achieve what she hoped … She only had one shot at this, and if she’d miscalculated even slightly, it was over for all of them. She held her breath as she carefully drew the vial out of the pouch, holding it up so that the moonlight glinted on the red liquid inside. It looked like it contained a tiny blood sample after a finger-stick test.

Maker lurched forward, horribly unsteady on his feet without his cane. “
No
! You can’t give it to them, Donna.”

Feeling hot guilt well up within her as Maker stumbled to his knees, Donna couldn’t help thinking that the old alchemist’s fear would help her case. Surely the Wood Queen couldn’t doubt, now, that she really intended to hand over the elixir.

Her eyes pricked with tears of relief as she saw Aliette pass her dagger to a waiting wood elf so it could use the blade to free Navin’s hands. Maker was pulled to his feet and dragged over to join Donna. He limped slowly toward her.

“Maker,” she whispered as he reached her. She tentatively reached out to him and he gripped her velvet-clad hand in his own surprisingly strong fingers.

“It’s good to see you, child. I just wish I knew what you have planned.” His intelligent blue eyes seemed to look right inside her, and she had to resist the urge to throw her arms around him. “You do have a plan, don’t you?” he continued under his breath.

“Trust me,” was all she had time to say before turning to Navin, who was carefully picking his way across the undergrowth to reach her. The bruise on his face was starting to show more—purple and black against his brown skin—but his dark eyes were clear.

She ran to Navin and collapsed against his bony chest, tears running down her cheeks as he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her nose in his shoulder to better smell the familiar fake leather of his jacket. It was torn on one arm, but to see him standing there in one piece wearing it—to be holding him in her arms—made her so happy she could almost forget where they were and the danger they were still in.

“Donna,” he said, his mouth resting against her hair. “Are you all right?”

She pulled away from him for a moment. “
Me
? I’m fine—what about
you
?”

“Dude, I am
so
much better now,” he replied with feeling.

“Xan!” Donna called. “You have to get them back to the door—wait for me, but not for too long … ” Her voice trailed off.

Xan’s eyes flashed with barely suppressed anger. “I won’t just ‘wait’ for you, Donna. If you don’t arrive at the door within five minutes, I’m coming back for you.”

Donna blew out a frustrated sigh. “You have to wait, Xan, that’s the deal. You go on ahead—you’ll need to help Maker—and I’ll deal with the Wood Queen. Then I’ll follow. It’s simple.” She lifted her chin as though daring anyone to argue with her.

Then Maker spoke, surprising them. “Donna, you don’t
really
have the elixir, do you?” His tone was low, as though he was trying to speak only to her.

Donna met his concerned gaze. “Maker, you need to go with the others now.”

“You do realize what would happen if they got hold of it,” the alchemist continued, his voice rising with concern.

Actually
, she thought,
I don’t know. I don’t know anything
. All she could do was trust her heart and hope that she’d made the right choice.

Her eyes and voice were steady as she looked at Navin. “Please help him along the Path,” she said, indicating Maker. “Xan will lead and open the door.” She caught Xan’s eye and nodded at him, hoping he would be able to get everyone to safety.

She didn’t know what would happen after they’d gone, but she was determined that nobody else would be at risk because of her. Not again. This was her chance to make amends for everything that Navin had gone through.

Aliette’s brittle voice cut through the air, making Donna jump. “You are to leave the Elflands and never return.” She fixed Xan with her mossy glare. “I will take measures to ensure the door you have opened remains closed,
halfling
. Do not attempt to use the Old Paths again.”

Donna saw Navin’s curious glance at Xan and sighed, knowing that
if
they all got out of this, she would have a lot more explaining to do.

Xan reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, trying to communicate something. Donna felt sadness weigh her down, but she couldn’t let it stop her. She desperately wanted to say something to him—something significant about how she’d felt since their first meeting. But so much had happened and was
still
happening—it seemed like there just wasn’t enough time. She wanted him to know how important he had become to her in just a matter of days, but her mouth didn’t seem to be working properly. Their connection spoke of loss and pain, of being part of something greater than themselves, and of all the gifts they possessed, even though hidden under a mask of scars.

And then Nav hugged her and led Maker into the tunnel of darkly whispering leaves. Xan ran to catch up, looking back once and shooting her another of those fierce glances—she knew he was telling her
be careful, or else
.

So Donna Underwood stood alone, in the center of the Ironwood underneath the carnivorous sky, facing the Wood Queen and six of her twisted elves, as the moon peeked out from between the diminishing clouds.

Give me the elixir,” demanded the Wood Queen.

Donna began backing toward the edge of the clearing, trying to put as much distance between herself and the throne as possible.

“
Now!
”

Aliette’s voice had that fingers-on-chalkboard quality that makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up. Donna cringed as her arms and hands filled with a terrible, stabbing pain; she clenched her fists and held her breath until the spasm passed. It seemed that the more energy the Wood Queen expended, the more Donna’s hands ached. She gritted her teeth and took another step back.

“It’s right here, your majesty,” she said, just barely able to get the words past her chattering teeth. She held out the vial with shaking fingers, terrified that at any moment the glass would crack. She continued shuffling backwards.

The queen’s bottomless black eyes narrowed into cruel slits. “Where are you going?” she howled, the sound almost driving Donna to her knees. But she would not let herself be overpowered—she bit the inside of her mouth and tried to ignore the steady throb in her temples.

She waved the vial. “Here, take it.”

At the Wood Queen’s gesture, one of the elves scuttled forward, regarding Donna with its ancient eyes. It moved crablike, circling around her right-hand side, forcing her to turn with it in order to keep it safely within view. She extended her arm slowly, holding the vial in front of the creature, hoping that for
just one more second
nobody would notice the precious drops of liquid dribbling from the growing fracture in the casing.

As the elf suddenly moved closer, Donna took a deep breath and threw the vial across the clearing, as far and as hard as she could. Painfully aware that she had just tossed away generations of research and study, she watched as the glass spun in the moonlit sky and then fell into a scrubby patch of greenery. The wood elf scampered after it, and Donna turned and
ran
back down the tree-lined corridor, gasping as she tripped on a tree root and righted herself just in time. She was plunged into near darkness but still kept going, not caring when her hat flew off, not bothering to stop for it, just running and running along the ancient path, scattering dead leaves and twigs along the way. She ran faster than she’d ever thought possible—cold air sang in her throat and her chest felt stretched too tight. Whatever happened, she would have to start exercising regularly from now on. She tried not to think about what might be behind her, or whether or not she was being pursued.

Slowing her pace as she approached the end of the tunnel, she saw Xan waiting to ferry her through the door. He had already taken the others through.

“Are they coming?” he asked, gazing past her, his eyes wide and shining even in the dim light. His breath made little clouds in front of his face.

“I don’t think so,” she gasped, struggling to regulate her breathing.

Xan took a step back to make room for her, pulling her toward him to ensure that they stepped through the door together. He was clutching the familiar bundle of earth and twigs, dead leaves and moss, and she rested her midnight-blue glove on top of it, waiting for the dizzying sensation of moving-without-moving.

Then they were ducking out of the tiny clearing and crashing into the undergrowth, Donna still glancing behind them at the invisible door. Just because Xan had closed it and scattered the earth and leaves he’d been holding didn’t mean the wood elves couldn’t open it from their side.

But as they clambered through the brambles and Donna cursed the thorns scratching her cheeks, she began to think that maybe they had gotten away. Maybe they would be safe and could all just get into Xan’s car and return to Ironbridge, going back to something close to a normal life (whatever that meant for any of them). She refused to think about what would happen when the Wood Queen found the broken vial.

She refused to allow herself to think about the consequences that she herself would face with the Order.

Xan grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the main path. They passed underneath a particularly heavy covering of ferns and branches where she couldn’t see the moon at all. She stubbed her toe on a gnarled root and stopped for a moment, tugging on Xan’s hand to make him wait.

“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously. “We need to keep moving—Navin and Maker will be waiting farther down. It’s not far now.”

Donna leaned down to re-tie her sneaker, glad for a moment to catch her breath. “How do they know the way?”

“Maker,” Xan replied, simply.

Of course Maker would know the Ironwood, after all his years holding back the fey threat. Donna straightened up and pulled her coat more tightly around her. “I’m ready.”

The words had only just left her mouth when she heard it again: the sound that haunted her nightmares and wouldn’t leave her for as long as she lived: the otherworldly scream of the Skriker, ripping through her ears and vibrating in her body. The sound was much closer this time, but even if it wasn’t, she felt attuned to it now, somehow—every shriek was bringing her closer to that awful memory.

No wonder the elves hadn’t come after them, she thought. Why would they need to when the Wood Queen had loosed her pet on them?

Donna clutched Xan’s arm, for a moment forgetting the strength in her hands, and gazed panic-stricken into his wide eyes. “Xan, we have to get out of here.” Her voice trembled and she hated herself for her fear, but the ache in her arms reminded her why she was afraid. The terror was blinding-white in her mind, blocking out all other thoughts and any ability to move.

Xan was shaking her. “Come
on
, Donna, what are you standing there for?”

They ran, not caring about the sharp branches whipping at their faces, not caring which direction they ran in. Donna hoped they were staying on the main path, but she couldn’t be sure. It was too dark and they were running too fast—the moon was hidden behind a sudden coating of thick cloud and she could only see the eerie silhouettes of tree trunks and clawed branches.

The nerve-shredding scream came at them from the left, and the next thing Donna knew she was knocked over, all the air driving out of her lungs as she smashed into Xan and landed on top of him. There was a confused moment when she wasn’t sure whether he’d pushed her down to protect her, or if they had both just been blindsided by the silent-running hellhound.

She pulled herself free, struggling to lever Xan’s weight off her without hurting him with her strength. Her heart constricted when she saw thick blood oozing from a wide gash in his forehead. His face was gray, and the sticky blood was already congealing in his hair, glistening in a shaft of moonlight poking through the treetops.

The ground was littered with jagged rocks; he must have hit his head. She prayed that Xan was only unconscious. For a moment it was as though time had stopped—Donna didn’t care about the Skriker, the wood elves, the elixir of life—all she could think about was Xan lying motionless on the ground. His arms had been around her, protecting her from the dark creature now breathing in deep grunts somewhere beyond the ring of trees, saving her from the worst of the fall. He had been unable to save himself while sheltering her.

Moaning in fear, Donna listened for signs of life, her ear close to Xan’s pale lips. He lay so still and his cheek was cold—it reminded her of when she was a child, leaning over her father’s body. Then she felt a warm whisper of breath touch her face. Flooded with relief, she was about to place her ear to Xan’s chest, just to be certain, when the screeching started once more.

Donna put her hands over her ears as she tried to shut out the horrific noise. She crouched over Xan’s body and found herself wondering whether the baying creature had changed much in all these years
.

Strange
, she thought,
the way the mind works when you’re facing death
.

Dragging herself to her feet, Donna looked into the dimly lit forest. She had no idea where she was anymore—no clue where Navin or Maker were. Once again, she was alone with the Wood Monster. And this time her father wouldn’t be coming to save her.

With a loud crack as it knocked down a fragile sapling, the Skriker leapt into view. Somehow, Donna thought it would seem smaller now that she was grown up, but the giant dog crouching before her was the size of a small horse. Donna slowly retreated, her eyes fixed on the black creature in front of her while she tried not to trip over Xan’s prone form. Its yellow eyes glowed like sickly embers and smoke poured from its mouth and nostrils, stinking of bonfires. The trees lit up as it advanced on her, its crimson aura growing brighter by the second. The ground beneath its massive paws burned and shuddered.

The Skriker opened its jaws and screamed.

Blue flames burst from its mouth, licking the trunks of trees like a giant fiery tongue. Donna threw herself to the ground and rolled to the side, smashing her shoulder on the hard earth and her knee against a tree. Keeping her wary eyes on Xan, hoping the hellish dog either wouldn’t notice him or would just think he was dead, she crawled onto her hands and knees and pulled herself up, using the tree for support. Her legs were shaking and her body ached but she pushed through the pain, remembering that terrified girl she’d once been. She allowed herself to think of her father, and glanced once more at Xan.
Not again
, she told herself.
Never again
.

She removed her gloves. The velvet material dropped to the ground as Donna stood, her back braced against the old tree. By the light of the moon she saw the Skriker’s amber eyes rest on her as more smoke belched from its mouth.

Its shaggy black hide moved fluidly over its muscles as it lowered its head and charged toward her.

And suddenly, Donna was overwhelmed with a sense of complete calm—she was facing death, and yet there was a feeling of serenity flowing through her. Maybe it was just shock, but she would take strength where she could find it. She held her hands out in front of her and watched as the moon reflected off the silver lines flowing across and beneath her skin. The shimmering lattice that encapsulated her hands and arms was moving at a startling rate, winding around and around in a spiral motion that made her fingers numb.

Clenching her fists at the last moment, Donna turned her head away as the Skriker crashed into her and slammed her back against the tree. The burning creature’s chest had driven into her hands, her silver fists plunging
through
its black fur and flesh and directly into its massive heart.

There was no blood, just blue flame—cold and unforgiving to human flesh, but powerless against Donna’s magically enhanced arms. The cold iron lacing her skin and bones had sliced through the Skriker’s fey hide like the sharpest knife. She collapsed under the weight of the dying creature. Its huge head flopped back on its neck as it tried to drag itself back onto its haunches, desperate to escape the agony she had inflicted on it.

Half-crushed and only semiconscious, Donna listened to the Skriker’s dying breaths and felt a burst of pity for this thing that had maimed her as a child and killed her father. And instead of being angry with herself for thinking this way, she felt only acceptance. The creature was merely a tool of the Wood Queen, of that Donna was certain. It didn’t know what it was doing; it was created simply to instill fear—and where fear didn’t work, to kill. Compassion was a quality she knew Patrick Underwood valued highly, and she was glad to think that he might be proud of her.

Now, as she lay battered and bruised under the giant body of the Skriker, she knew what it was to destroy something yet also feel a sense of pity for it.

After several minutes, Donna managed to crawl out from beneath the creature’s bulky frame, pushing hard with her shaking legs and rolling to the side as its giant head fell forward, tongue lolling out. She winced as she dragged herself through the still-burning embers scattered along the ground, the knees of her jeans not affording nearly enough protection. Just for a moment she wondered why there wasn’t a minor forest fire, then remembered that the flames were of another world—of another time and place—and would not burn the same way Prometheus’ gift did. This wasn’t the fire of the alchemists.

Xan was just beginning to stir, moaning in pain as he turned his head. Donna scrambled to his side, wondering whether she could tear the lining out of her coat to make a bandage. Wasn’t that what they did in movies? And then she realized she had the perfect bandage—the black velvet pouch that had held the elixir. She tore it open, ripping the seams with ease, and pressed the cloth gently to the wound on Xan’s head, all the while urging him to lie still until help arrived. She was desperately banking on Navin and Maker finding them; otherwise, she would have to leave Xan here and try to find her way out of the Ironwood in the dark. Even with the occasional glimpse of white moon, she doubted it would be easy. She was well and truly lost.