The Iron Witch (22 page)

“Rest,” she whispered to Xan, pulling his head onto her lap and stroking back his blood-matted hair. “You’re bleeding.”

“Donna.” His voice was so faint she could hardly hear him.

“Shh,” she repeated. “Don’t try to talk.”

Xan’s eyes flickered open, the emerald light within them flashing briefly, then closed again. His head rolled to the side and he groaned.

“Please,” Donna prayed. “Navin, please find us.”

And just as she spoke these words aloud, she heard a distant voice. The voice was calling her name, and getting louder and louder.

“I’m here!” she called. She ran her fingers through Xan’s hair again, reveling in the freedom of doing so without wearing her gloves, and wondering if she would get the chance to touch him like this when he was fully conscious. She leaned down and kissed his cheek.
I hope so
, she thought.

Navin burst through the undergrowth. “Donna, you’re okay!” He looked at the half-conscious Xan lying in her lap. “What happened?”

She nodded in the direction of the Skriker’s body, behind him, and couldn’t help enjoying the expression of shock on her friend’s face. “That, Navin, is a Skriker.”

“
Was
a Skriker, don’t you mean?” Awe radiated from his voice. “It sort of looks like a bear.”

She shook her head and almost smiled. Navin could always make her smile and she loved him for that. “It’s not a
bear
, Sharma. What kind of bears do they have on your planet?”

He ignored her and gazed at Xan for a long moment. “Did
he
kill it?”

“No,” she said, lifting her chin and meeting his eyes. “It was me.”

“Seriously?” Navin’s expression was a complicated mixture of horror, disbelief, and … admiration.

“Yeah, seriously.”

“Huh.” He crouched down by the creature’s body. “Pretty cool, Underwood.”

Pride burst in her chest for the second time in the space of minutes.

“Pretty cool,” Navin repeated. “And pretty
gross
.”

Before she could throw a retort, Xan shifted against her and tried to lever himself into a sitting position.

“Hey, take it easy,” Donna said, doing her best to keep him steady.

“I’m okay,” Xan replied. And it actually seemed like he was, because the next moment, Alexander Grayson gently pushed away from her fussing hands and slowly began to stand. His hair was still matted with blood and he looked pretty dazed, but he was moving well enough, all things considered. Donna screwed up her face with confusion when she realized that the gash in his forehead looked almost closed.

She jumped to her feet—ignoring the wave of dizziness that almost planted her on her butt again—and touched Xan’s face. It was still pretty dark … could she have been mistaken about his wound?

Navin was watching the two of them, which felt a little weird, but she couldn’t worry about it right now. The gash had truly closed. Donna licked her thumb and rubbed crusted blood away from where the injury should have been, ignoring Xan’s protests.
How had he healed so quickly?
Was it a faery thing?

She glared at him, unable to suppress a rising tide of suspicion. He himself had told her there was still a lot she didn’t know about him, and now here she was, getting pissed off about that very fact.
What was wrong with her?
She should just be happy he was okay. Donna took a steadying breath and tried not to sound accusing.

“You were bleeding like crazy a minute ago, Xan. Now there’s no cut here.”

He frowned, looking genuinely puzzled about why she was angry. “Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought it was?”

She narrowed her eyes. “It was bad. Trust me on that. It was pretty bad.”

He ran his fingers over where the wound should have been. “I don’t know what happened, I swear.” He glanced over at Navin. “Is she always this damn suspicious?”

Navin smirked, and the moment of connection between the two guys would have been a relief to Donna if it weren’t for the fact they were bonding over dissing
her
.

And then a thought struck her. Not just any thought, either. This was a big one—potentially huge and apparently life-saving. She gazed at the piece of blood-drenched material in her hand, material that had originally held the vial of elixir.

The vial that she had crushed while it was
still
inside
the pouch.

Could there have been a drop of elixir on the material? If even the tiniest trickle of liquid had escaped the damaged vial before she’d removed it from the pouch, it would have soaked into the lining. Which meant that maybe Xan was telling the truth after all—maybe he really
didn’t
have magical fey healing abilities. Maybe Donna had accidentally healed him with a legendary alchemical compound that she wasn’t even sure she believed in.

Until now.

Navin touched her shoulder. “Donna, what is it?”

She licked her lips and shook her head, trying to smile. “Nothing. Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

Yeah, like either of them would buy that
.

But Donna didn’t know what to think of any of this right now, and they needed to get out of here. Xan was okay, which was what mattered.

Then Xan abruptly frowned at Navin. “Hey, where’s the old guy?”

Navin indicated over his shoulder. “Not far. He’s waiting on a tree stump by the path.”

Donna breathed a sigh of relief. “The path’s nearby?”

Navin nodded. “Sure. You almost made it.”

You almost made it
. His innocent words echoed in her mind and Donna couldn’t bring herself to reply. They
had
made it; everybody was safe. She’d achieved her goal: she’d saved her best friend’s life and retrieved Maker. She’d even destroyed the creature that had decimated her family, ten years before.

But at what cost?

The first light of morning was just beginning to peek through the clouds, bathing the treetops in an ethereal silver glow. They had met the Wood Queen’s deadline. Donna tried to push aside her fears and concentrate on the fact that they had won. But somehow the victory felt hollow, no matter how relieved she was to see Navin smiling at her as he turned toward the path.

Glancing surreptitiously at Xan, impossibly invigorated considering all that they’d been through, she bit her lip and wondered how the hell she was going to explain all this to her aunt.

Donna Underwood’s Journal:

Navin still hasn’t told me about his time with the wood elves. I know he understands more about my life now, about the nightmares I’ve had for so many years, but I wish his understanding hadn’t come at such a horrible price. I hope he will talk to me about it, one day—I can’t help worrying, and he’s been so quiet.

Simon Gaunt took great pleasure in returning my charm bracelet. He’d found it inside his oratorium, right next to the smashed incubator.

Way to get caught red-handed.

Aunt Paige was furious that I’d put myself in such danger, and she was the most emotional I’ve ever seen her. She actually cried when we got back to the Frost Estate. But I have a bad feeling that her tears weren’t all about my safety.

I was proven right when Quentin Frost set a date for the hearing.

Yeah, me … Donna Underwood … who never asked to be born into this crazy magical life, is being hauled in front of a panel of alchemists to answer for my actions. They aren’t using the word “crimes,” but they might as well. Nobody listens to me when I tell them I had to save Navin. Why would they care? He’s just a commoner, after all. But they’re not even listening to Maker. At least he isn’t treating me like a criminal.

So, I’m grounded until the hearing. I spend all my time reading and re-reading emails from Xan, since they’ve confiscated my cell phone. He keeps me going, and he signs every letter with a kiss.

Acknowledgments

First of all, there would be no published book if it wasn’t for my incredible agent, Miriam Kriss. You’re the glue that holds my career (and sanity!) together—thank you for everything. My thanks also go to Heather Baror Shapiro for being
The Iron Witch
’s champion overseas.

Thank you to all of my wonderful publishers and editors. In the U.S.: Brian Farrey for giving new writers a chance and for helping to make this book so much better; Lisa Novak for the amazing cover, which I loved from the very first moment; Sandy Sullivan for her keen eye and sound judgment; Marissa Pederson and all the hardworking booklovers at Flux. Thanks so much to everyone at Random House Children’s Books in the U.K. for giving me such a tremendous opportunity. In particular, I am grateful to Annie Eaton, Clare Argar, Lauren Bennett, Jessica Clarke, Emily van Hest, and Trish De Souza. Thanks also to the super-cool Adiba Oemar at Random House Children’s Books in Australia, as well as the whole team at RHCB “Down Under.”

To the Deadline Dames, I still find it hard to believe I’m part of such an amazing group of authors. Thanks to each of you: Devon, Jackie, Jenna, Keri, Lili, Rachel, Rinda, and Toni. Dames rock!

Thank you to my writing BFFs who have been there since Day One: Brian Kell, Chandra Rooney, Tricia Sullivan, and Reneé Sweet. Not only do you keep me going through the tough times and celebrate the good stuff with me, you have each helped me to become a better writer.

Thanks to ALL of my LiveJournal friends, as well as to the wider online world I’m proud to be a part of. In particular I must thank Ana Grilo, Liz and Mark de Jager, Stacia Kane, Caitlin Kittredge, Tessa Gratton, Richelle Mead, Tiffany Trent, and Ariana Valderrama. Thank you to Trisha Telep for believing in my work early on and encouraging my addiction to coffee. I am especially grateful to Rhona Westbrook and Maria Signorelli, whose early critiques undoubtedly improved
The Iron Witch
.

My thanks to Midori Snyder for writing the essay about the “Armless Maiden” tales that provided the initial spark for Donna’s story.

To Jonathan Carroll: your words inspired me way back when I was “sweet sixteen” just as they do today, so many years later.

Last, but by no means least, thank you to my family and all of my Real Life friends, who have helped shape the person I’ve become. And especially to Maralyn Mahoney (my lovely mum) and Vijay Rana (my very own Navin): you have supported my dreams and pushed me to tell my stories. I can’t thank you enough.

The Girl with Silver Hands:
The Making of The Iron Witch

by Karen Mahoney

The Iron Witch
is the result of almost four years’ dreaming, researching, and writing. If there were a recipe—or indeed a spell—that I could offer you that would reproduce the final work, it would involve a huge list of ingredients, along with a complex method and an invocation. Even before the long path to publication, there was always a central idea: a girl with silver hands, the friend she loves and is forced to save (loosely based on my own Real Life best friend), and a life of dark secrets that she wants to escape from.

Okay, so that’s three ideas …

In 2007, I read a beautiful essay by fantasy author and folklore expert Midori Snyder, called “The Armless Maiden and the Hero’s Journey” (reprinted in the online
Journal of Mythic Arts,
Winter 2006). This piece inspired me like nothing else had in years, and I immediately started trying to re-imagine how a YA urban fantasy novel might incorporate the powerful themes of the Armless Maiden narratives from around the world. There are many versions of the tale, and I am by no means an authority—but I did spend a lot of time tracking down obscure references and reading translations of the different stories, and I hope to touch on some of that in this essay.

Even though they all tell a similar story, there are a wide range of titles given to the tales: “The Armless Maiden,” “The Handless Maiden,” “The Girl/Woman/Maiden Without Hands,” “Doña Bernarda, “Rising Water, Talking Bird and Weeping Tree,” “Olive,” “The Girl with Silver Hands,” and many more. The stories share many common elements, including the loss of hands or arms for the girl or woman—in violent circumstances—and the eventual “re-growth” of the limbs as she slowly regains her power and independence. In most versions, there is a halfway point in the story where the maiden meets a prince or a king who falls in love with her despite her disability, ordering a member of his royal court—sometimes a magician—to build a replacement pair of hands for his new bride. These magical hands and arms are usually made of silver.

Although there is much to discuss about the depth and hidden layers of meaning within the Handless Maiden stories, it was this striking visual element that fired my imagination when I first read about it. I wondered how I could create a modern-day heroine with “silver hands” and the power to transform her own life. How could I make that fit in with a contemporary or urban setting? When I hit upon the notion of having my protagonist’s hands and arms coated with silver tattoos that, when looked at quickly, might make it look as though her hands were made of solid metal, I knew I was onto something. And when I made the leap to realizing that Donna’s tattoos should be made of iron rather than silver, I found the crucial link between the alchemists and the faeries.

Speaking of the fey…they first made an appearance in one of the crazy dreams I had during an intense two-week period when ideas just wouldn’t stop coming. One of those dreams showed me a young girl—still just a child—running barefoot through a wintering forest, pursued by a pack of screaming monsters. Those monsters became the wood elves of
The Iron Witch
, and the creature that almost mortally wounded Donna became the Skriker (the “Wood Monster” in her imagination), one of the legendary Black Dogs of English folklore.

Yes, I admit, I’m guilty of mixing my lore—but I believe if you dare to do so
consciously
, and you come up with some reasonable justifications for the liberties you take, then you’re kind of okay. Mostly. You also might have noticed that part of
The Iron Witch
was born out of a DREAM. We will not mention anything more about that, suffice it to say that I can only hope
my
“dream book” is even a thousandth as successful as a Certain Other Paranormal Book Inspired by a Dream.

In many versions of the traditional Armless Maiden stories, the girl is a victim of her own family. Sometimes this is due to an outright betrayal, but it can also be caused by a tragic mistake in which the father or brother is tricked by an evil force (often the Devil) into sacrificing the maiden’s hands. In the interpretation I chose to use, we see that Donna’s loss comes as an indirect result of her family’s lifelong affiliation with the alchemists. If she were not a daughter of the Order, it seems unlikely that she would ever have been attacked by the fey in the first place. Of course, we don’t yet know
why
that happened…though I promise you’ll find out in the next book. (Not that I’m plugging the sequel. *cough*)

I think that Donna Underwood’s story (and it’s no coincidence that I named her “Underwood,” by the way, with its obvious woodland connotations and subtle play on the word “Underworld”) is the story of a seventeen-year-old girl who must grow from childhood to adulthood far too quickly. Yes, she has experienced tragedy, but she doesn’t wallow in it. She is proactive and wants to change her life:
transformation
, as she tells Navin, is important to the alchemists.

That theme of transformation is as important to my own “Girl with Silver Hands” story as it is in the folklore I researched. The Handless Maiden is often seen as an outsider—something that Donna truly understands at the start of the book. She has felt like a “freak” for the last ten years of her life, and must learn to look upon her iron tattoos as a gift if she is ever truly to gain the freedom she so desperately desires.

This theme is taken up in what is perhaps my favorite retelling of the tale, the one recounted by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés in her seminal work,
Women Who Run With the Wolves
. Dr. Estés explains that “The Handless Maiden” tale is truly that of the heroine’s “Test of Endurance.” There’s a line in her wonderfully Jungian interpretation that resonates with me and feels very true for
The Iron Witch
:

“The story pulls us into a world that lies far below the roots of trees.”

I didn’t read Dr. Estés’ book until long
after
I’d written the first draft of my novel, but now that I can carefully examine her version of “The Handless Maiden”—and the many-layered interpretation of the tale that she offers—I see so many parallels. I don’t mean in terms of the events, because those are very different. But Estés equates the tale with a sort of shamanic journey, including the requisite descent into the underworld and the physical transformation of the heroine.
Sacrifice
is a central theme—and it’s a big theme I plucked out of that mystical melting pot of universal archetypes we writers tune in to from time to time.

Okay, that’s enough New Age or “woo woo” references for now. The next ingredient that went into my cauldron when I was first stirring up the idea for
The Iron Witch
was alchemy. I’ve been fascinated by the idea of alchemists for many years, and started seriously researching it about six years ago. I used to work in an occult bookstore and had easy access to some wonderful resources, including antiquarian texts not readily available elsewhere. I’ve always loved that the historical alchemists seem to have taken themselves so seriously. And it’s interesting that many of them operated in secret, afraid of the ridicule that would befall them if it was known how they liked to dabble in one of the more mystical branches of esoteric study.

Alchemy is an ancient art—centuries old—and there have been branches of it all over the world. There are some pretty far-out theories as to how the alchemists came upon their information, encompassing everything from demons to Egyptian gods to channelled angels and even alien technology. It’s hard to believe that alchemy was actually a precursor to today’s study of chemistry, but there was a lot of method, ritual, and painstaking note-taking involved in their pseudo-scientific experiments, even back in the sixteenth century. I tried to get a flavor of that into
The Iron Witch
, but it would’ve been easy to overdo it and I had to be careful (there’s just way too much fascinating source material). Also, I really wanted to make the subject my own, for my book, so I created my four alchemical Orders from scratch. I had a great deal of fun doing that.

All right, then. So far we have the Handless Maiden, wood elves, and the alchemists. The final major ingredient of my story came from a sudden flash of inspiration, the kind that usually hits writers at the worst possible time and has us scrambling for a notebook—or a handy receipt—
anything
just so long as we get it written down before we forget it! This insight came to me as an image, basically, and whenever that happens I make sure to take it seriously, since I’m not usually that artistic in the visual sense.

I pictured a teenage boy—or perhaps a young man—with dark blond hair covering his face, sitting bent over and quietly weeping. He was strong and determined, I knew that much, and yet he still couldn’t stop the tears from falling (though perhaps that was part of his strength). He had been physically mutilated, and as a result he’d lost something he felt he couldn’t live without.

Cheery, huh? My brain is a very strange place to hang out—I don’t recommend it.

Obviously, this lonely guy with secrets of his own became Xan, and from very early on, I knew almost as much about him as I did about Donna. Alexander Grayson had a lot to tell me, so I made sure to listen and take notes.

Once I had these major building blocks in place—the folklore, the magic, and the love interest—I merely had to add them to Donna and Navin’s friendship, and to the constant battle Donna fights to fit into Nav’s “normal” world, and I was all set to cause some chaos in my characters’ lives (picture me rubbing my hands together in Authorly Anticipation).

I hope you’ve enjoyed visiting the world of Ironbridge in my story, and that you’ll come back again soon. There are a lot more secrets to uncover—and it wouldn’t be any fun if I couldn’t share it with you. Thanks for reading!

Karen Mahoney

London, 2011