Shadow Heir: A Dark Swan Novel#4

by Richelle Mead

  “He wants what he thinks is best for you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Well, considering that involves my children staying alive, I’ll gladly take that over you advising on what you think is best. You really have no business preaching to me about this, especially after I was the only one yesterday who even bothered to—”

  A shout from Rurik immediately turned me from Kiyo. The others in my party were already looking in the direction we’d just come from, and I quickly spotted what they had. I leapt to my feet and drew my weapons as a group of people on horseback emerged around a bend in the road. Seeing us, they came to an abrupt halt and drew weapons of their own.

  “Stay right where you are,” warned one of the men in the strange group. He had a curly blond beard and wielded a worn but effective-looking copper sword. “Attack us, and you’ll regret it.”

  Rurik grinned at him, but there was no genuine humor to it. “If you don’t lower your weapons, you’ll regret it. Set them on the ground now before we have to take them from you.”

  All this did was make the strangers tense and brace for battle. My group did the same, myself included. Yet, as I did, I took the opportunity to study our combatants more closely. They were all gentry, all armed, but their weapons didn’t have the uniformity or maintenance of the Beech soldiers’. This group wore nothing resembling uniforms either. Their clothing was worn and, in some cases, mismatched. Cloaks and furs were draped in front of them on their horses, like they’d been hastily pulled off when the climate had changed. Some of their faces were smudged, and all looked like they hadn’t been eating well.

  “Wait,” I said, hurrying forward.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” said Rurik, gaze fixed on the strangers. “Stay back for your own safety.”

  I halted in the middle of our two groups. “Who are you? Where are you from?”

  The new group eyed me suspiciously. “Who are you?” asked the blond-bearded man.

  “You’re from one of the blighted lands, aren’t you?” I asked, positive I was right.

  Nobody changed their stance, but the bearded guy regarded me with new interest. “What of it?”

  “So are we,” I said. “We’re from ...” What was that absurd name Dorian had come up with the other day?

  “... the Lilac Land,” he said, coming to stand beside me. He held his sword still, but his posture was more relaxed. I think he’d come to the same conclusion I had about these people.

  “Never heard of it,” said a woman from the newcomers. A spotted falcon sat upon her shoulder and watched us with equal suspicion.

  “Most haven’t,” said Dorian, deadpan. “It’s very far away.” He glanced between her and the blond man and must have decided she was a better bet. Dorian gave her one of his charming smiles. “What’s your kingdom called?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, and then she said, “The Hemlock Land.”

  “You’ve suffered considerably,” said Dorian. “Just as we have.”

  My next leap was drastic, but again, I felt pretty confident of my instincts. “You’re going to surrender to Varia, aren’t you?” It seemed logical. They weren’t a big enough force to stage a rebellion, but underneath the wear and tear, something about this group said they weren’t commoners. I was certain they were here to negotiate. “So are we.”

  Some of them shifted uncomfortably. “It’s the best thing for our people,” the woman said, almost defensively. “That’s what matters.”

  “It is,” I agreed, hoping I sounded compassionate. “There’s no need to be ashamed.”

  “We never said we were,” she said. Clearly this was a sensitive topic, which I understood perfectly.

  The blond man lowered his sword, which I took as an excellent sign. “Are you going to Withywele?”

  “Yes,” said Dorian quickly, before anyone could mess up the story. He lowered his sword too. “We assumed that would be the place to find the queen. A guide gave us directions.”

  “You’ve never been there?”

  “No.”

  The spokesman turned and murmured a few words to his group. Most of them nodded, though a couple—like the woman—shook their heads emphatically. At last, the blond man turned his attention back to us. “We know the way. If you wish, you may travel with us. It will certainly help to have more of us to face the peacekeepers.”

  I glanced at Dorian and was met with a puzzled shake of the head. “What are the peacekeepers?”

  “A jest of a term,” said the Hemlock woman, scowling. “Queen Varia leaves certain enchantments and obstacles in her subservient kingdoms to keep them in line. The residents are given ways to avoid them and be safe ... unless they displease her. The peacekeepers also discourage outsiders.”

  Kiyo spoke up. “Would you consider a group of dryads part of this, uh, peacekeeping?”

  The woman nodded gravely. “Most certainly. They’re an excellent force to be used against strangers—but can be coaxed to leave natives alone.”

  “Give us a second,” I said.

  Hoping I wouldn’t be attacked in the back, I turned and walked back to the group with Dorian. “I don’t trust them,” said Rurik promptly.

  “Nor should we,” said Dorian. “Not entirely. Though, they may be useful if they know the Yew Land—and about these ‘peacekeepers.’ That certainly would’ve been helpful information earlier when we met those wenches.”

  “Volusian couldn’t have known,” I said, barely believing I was defending my minion.

  Kiyo sighed. “I don’t like the idea of traveling with strangers, but we certainly need all the intel we can get.”

  “They don’t look any happier about traveling with us than we do with them,” said Pagiel. It was a remarkably observant statement. “We could probably pretty much keep to ourselves until we got to Withywele. Even there, they might be able to help us with the city.”

  “Are we agreed then?” I asked, looking at each of my friends’ faces. Seeing Rurik’s scowl, I added, “Don’t worry. You can keep your weapons handy. And we’ll double the watches.”

  That mollified him slightly, and when we told the Hemlock leader—whose name turned out to be Orj—our decision, I got the impression their group had also been having a similar conference for traveling procedure and defense. So, we all set off together, the air heavy with wariness but also with a sense of solidarity. There was comfort in numbers.

  We spoke little to our new companions at first. When we settled down to camp for the night, a bit of the tension lifted. Each group offered up food, and there’s something about a shared meal that encourages friendliness, particularly among the gentry with their strong ideas about hospitality. The soldiers in our group—though always on guard—had the easiest time bonding. When your life involves constantly being shuffled to new situations and fighting with those you don’t know, I think it becomes easier to make friends where you can.

  Unsurprisingly, each party contributed its own people to the watches. Mine was later in the night, and as I spread out my blanket near the campfire, Alea—the woman with the falcon—came and sat beside me. The bird sat on her shoulder.

  “Spots is surprised you aren’t sleeping with him,” she said.

  It took me a few seconds to dissect that statement. First, I realized Spots must be the falcon’s name. Then, I thought she meant the bird wanted to sleep with me—until I saw her gaze on Dorian.

  “Ah,” I said in understanding, staring at the opposite side of the fire. Dorian caught my eye and smiled. I quickly looked back at Alea. “No.”

  “Isn’t he your man?” she asked curiously. “It seemed like it from what I observed today.”

  I didn’t recall Dorian and I doing much more than our usual chatting while traveling, but maybe others saw things I couldn’t. “He used to be,” I admitted. “But not anymore.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Why ever not? He’s very attractive.”

  “He is,” I said, a bit more wistfully than I intended. “And smart and
powerful and resourceful.” I thought about it a moment more. “And kind.”

  The bird made a couple of clicking sounds. Alea tilted her head to listen and then nodded. “Spots says he sounds like an ideal mate and can’t understand what your problem is.”

  I laughed. “It sounds like Spots has a lot to say about romance.”

  She shrugged. “He sees things we sometimes miss. Often, his view of the world is much simpler than ours. That’s why he has trouble understanding your comments.” She murmured something to him that sounded like squawks, and the falcon flew off into the night.

  “I guess because it’s not simple,” I said, trying not to look at Dorian again. “We had some disagreements.”

  “Everyone has disagreements,” she said dismissively. “Only fools think otherwise. And only fools allow their pride to hinder reconciliation, especially in these times.”

  The bitter note in her voice wasn’t lost on me. “Has your kingdom suffered a lot?”

  “Yes. It’s the only thing that would drive us to this course of action.” She stared off into the night, face filled with anger and frustration. “I’ve been to war, you know. And nothing I saw there matched the horror of children starving and freezing to death. Or of entire villages being slaughtered by monsters from the frozen reaches.”

  I shuddered. “We’ve seen that too.”

  She sighed. “I don’t like bending the knee to Varia. But I like seeing my people and king suffer less. So. Here we are. As I said, only fools refuse to put their pride aside.”

  I said nothing right away. Even without talking to Orj or the others in the Hemlock party, I’d picked up on this same angry vibe—people pushed into a corner and out of options. Traveling with them was good for us because it ensured we’d get straight to Varia’s capital. Yet, I also wondered if some other good might come out of it. I’d have to tread cautiously, though.

  “Have you ever thought of any other options?” I asked. “Like not giving into her?”

  Alea glanced back, irritation in her dark eyes. “I already told you. It’s not worth my kingdom’s suffering.”

  “No—I don’t mean bravely refusing and letting the blight go on. Have you ever thought about openly opposing her? Rebelling? Attacking?”

  She didn’t answer, and I couldn’t read her thoughts. “Have you?” she asked at last. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

  I was careful not to directly answer the question. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it would depend on how many people were willing to work together against her.”

  Various emotions played across Alea’s face, as though this was a debate she’d had with herself many times. A resigned expression fell over her, and I suspected she’d reached the same conclusion she had countless times before, the one that had led to this path.

  “No. The stakes are too great.” She rose abruptly to her feet. “Forgive me. I’ve delayed your sleep too long.”

  She stalked off to her own blanket without another word. I curled up in my own, more exhausted than I realized. Just before I fell asleep, I opened my eyes and caught sight of Alea. She sat on her blanket, staring at the fire, pain and indecision all over her.

  Chapter 18

  When the Hemlock group had first described “peacekeepers,” the dryads had become the model in my mind. I figured we could expect to see more of the same type of obstacle: creatures or monsters that had to be overcome by magic or brute force. In some ways, the various arctic creatures we’d encountered in the blight met this description. They preyed on those who weren’t Varia’s cronies. So, I was on the lookout for living foes, not inanimate ones, which made it that much more of a surprise when the road turned into a lake the next morning.

  We had just crossed into a subjugated kingdom, but such crossings were growing fewer and fewer as we approached the heart of the Yew Land. Most of our travels were now strictly in the Yew Land. Our new companions had told us that we could expect to find a road branching off this one soon that would lead toward the capital. Volusian’s rough directions matched this, so I was optimistic about finding it the next time we were back in the Yew kingdom.

  Like many things in the Otherworld, the lake appeared out of nowhere. One moment we were trotting down the road, the next there was water as far as the eye could see. My horse shied and came to a halt, and I shared its unease. The water was unnaturally smooth and still, like a sheet of glass spread out before us. I couldn’t see its end.

  “That’s an optical illusion, right?” I asked, gesturing vaguely forward. “The water can’t go on forever. It’s like when a kingdom seems to extend ahead, and two steps later, you walk into another one.”

  “Yes and no,” said Dorian. “The water most certainly doesn’t go on forever. What’s wrong here is that the main roads of this world don’t naturally have these kinds of obstacles and impediments. Think about how even in the blighted lands, the roads stayed semi-clear. That’s their magic. They cross the Otherworld unbound. For this lake to be here, someone went to a lot of trouble to put it here.”

  “Like Varia,” guessed Rurik.

  Orj nodded as he dismounted and walked to the water’s edge with a sneer. “This is a peacekeeper. Most likely there’s a word or charm that the residents here use to bypass this or make it clear up. The rest of us ... we either have to turn around or find a way through.”

  Pagiel tilted his head. “Is it really even that deep? Maybe we can just ford it with horses.”

  Jasmine spoke before I could. “It’s deep. It gets deep really fast, actually ... but it doesn’t go as far as it looks.” She glanced at me. “Can you feel it?”

  I opened up my magical senses and called to the water, trying to feel what she had. Sure enough, my illusion suspicion was correct. The water didn’t extend “forever,” but it was very deep and still enough of a distance across that it would delay us.

  “Too much for me to move,” added Jasmine.

  “Me too,” I agreed quickly.

  Her eyebrows rose. “No way. You could wipe this whole thing out if you wanted.”

  “No,” I said firmly, hoping she caught my tone. “I can’t.”

  Jasmine bit her lip and said no more. The truth was, I had a feeling I could have parted this water in classic Bible style. It would take a lot of power ... but I had it. The problem was, I didn’t want to do it in front of the Hemlock people. Maybe they weren’t our enemies, but there was only a handful of people who could work magic like that with water, and I wasn’t ready to reveal my identity. We’d even given false names.

  Dorian had dismounted and was pacing around. To my surprise, he’d stopped paying attention to the lake and was instead checking out the terrain we’d just come through. The kingdom—none of us were sure which one it was—had a stony landscape, with a heavy, silt soil. Vegetation was sparse, and off in the distance, rocky foothills rose from the land and eventually gave way to far off mountains. Dorian seemed to be murmuring something to himself and then gave a satisfied nod. He turned to one of the Hemlock people, a young man who looked to be a little younger than Pagiel.

  “You,” said Dorian. “You have some sort of earth magic, correct?”

  The boy blinked in surprise. “Er, yes. I’m able to manipulate stones and rocks. I—I sculpt them sometimes.”

  “Well,” said Dorian. “You may have to lower yourself to something a little less refined, but hopefully your skills will be adequate.”

  “What do you have in mind?” asked Kiyo. He made no attempt to hide the mistrust in his voice. Maybe he felt Dorian had a lot to offer on this quest, but Kiyo wasn’t about to accept Dorian’s decisions blindly.

  “We’re going to build our own road,” explained Dorian. “My young friend here and I—what’s your name again?”

  “Kellum,” squeaked the boy.

  “Kellum,” repeated Dorian. “Right. Kellum and I are going to use dirt and rocks to create a road across. Or, well, I’ll use dirt and rocks. He’ll assist with the rocks. There’s ple
nty of raw material out here to work with.”

  I shook my head. “Not to reach the bottom. It’s too deep.”

  “We’ll build it on the surface then,” said Dorian. “A floating bridge of sorts. Keeping the materials suspended there is well within my powers. Once everyone begins walking across it, however, it would be nice if, say, we could get a little support from the water.” He looked meaningfully at Jasmine and me.

  “We can do that,” I said. Dorian and Kellum would suspend the earth and stones over the water, and Jasmine and I would control the water to keep the “bridge” from sinking. Between the four of us, it was doable, and it didn’t give away the full extent of my power.

  Dorian conferred for a few minutes with Kellum, and then they set to their task. Despite how powerful he was, I hardly ever saw Dorian wield his magic. He rarely needed to since his subjects were well aware of its strength. When he went into battle, he stuck to his sword, and although his earth magic enhanced the copper blade, that was a very different act from what I was observing now. There was an art to what Dorian did. Just as my senses sang out to water and air, he could call to all the elements within the earth and make them obey him. I’d once seen him use that power to rain destruction on enemies, and it had been terrifying. This act of creation, on the other hand, was mesmerizing.

  The two of them summoned rocks and stones to lay across the water, effortlessly arranging the various sizes so that they fit together like a game of Tetris. Once a section of rock was laid across the water, Dorian would then call up the dirt. It floated up from the ground in chunks, almost like a storm cloud, and then spread itself neatly over the stone foundation in layers to create a smooth surface. Dorian and Kellum did this for about a half hour, and although Dorian did it with his usual smirk and quips, I could see the lines of tension on his face and sweat along his hairline. This was a huge feat of magic, much greater than I’d realized when the plan was initially proposed.

  At one point, Dorian told Kellum to stop and glanced at the rest of us. “I need a volunteer to try it out.”