Shadow Heir

Chapter 17

None of the men seemed to show any serious aftereffects from the dryad magic, aside from dehydration and distaste for mistletoe. I watched them all with concern, especially Dorian. I thought I was managing it covertly—but apparently not.

“I’m not going to break, you know,” he told me. We were getting ready to set out, and I was packing up my bag near him. “You can let me out of your sight once in a while—not that I mind the touching show of concern. It’s almost like you care.”

I flushed and focused on my packing. “Of course I care. I mean, you know, because you’re my friend. And we need you. And you were hit the hardest by the dryad magic. It’s perfectly normal to be worried about you.”

“Perfectly normal,” he agreed. His face was the picture of innocence, but I caught the amusement in his voice. There was no mention of that brief, golden moment when I’d woken up with him, but the warmth of it stayed with me for the rest of the day.

Based on Keeli and Jasmine’s mistletoe run, we knew we could expect to cross into the Yew Land today, which sent a whole new sort of tension through us. Thus far, our journey had concentrated on the specific stages we needed to accomplish at the time—first crossing the blight, then Varia’s subjugated kingdoms. Those were big enough obstacles, and there’d been little time to talk about anything more. Now we had decisions to make.

“No idea yet if you can cross the border?” I asked Volusian.

“No, mistress.” The rest of our party was gathered in a circle, but he stood slightly apart. “At least, I don’t know yet if I can cross with you. I know I can’t alone.”

“And so now we figure out where we actually have to go,” mused Kiyo. “What’s your best guess about where Varia would be keeping the talismans?”

Volusian eyed him with disdain. “I do not guess. I make logical assumptions based on my considerable knowledge and experience.”

I hid a smile. “Then what’s your logical assumption about this?”

“That there are two options, mistress—straightforward ones that even most of you could deduce. Varia will either keep the objects as close to her as possible so that she can rest assured of their safety—or she will hide them in the most remote spot possible.”

“There’s straightforward,” I pointed out. “And then there’s stating the obvious. You’re dangerously close to the latter. Is it really split that evenly? I mean, should we just flip a coin about where they might be?”

Volusian considered. “I would recommend you assume they’re near her. Likely she’s in her capital or some other well-situated place, which will give you a more concrete goal to search. It also seems likely she’d need the objects somewhat accessible to her magic users—which would be more convenient for them in a place that didn’t require a considerable or difficult journey.”

“So we go to the capital then,” said Pagiel eagerly. The long journey had made him restless, and he was ready for action. “You can lead us, right?”

Volusian usually came off straight-faced, but I could often pick up on certain nuances now and then that indicated his true feelings. I got a distinct you’re-wasting-my-time vibe as he answered Pagiel: “Of course I could lead you—were I certain I can go into the Yew Land. Which I am not. As I just stated moments ago.”

Pagiel scowled, and I quickly spoke before he tried to pick a fight with Volusian. “Then we’re going to need you to give us directions or a map or something to help us once we cross, just in case we lose you. I’m sure the layout’s changed since your day, but a few guidelines will help—and I can’t imagine the capital’s exactly inconspicuous.”

“It isn’t,” Volusian agreed. “And it’s called Withywele.”

“With-a-what?” asked Jasmine.

It seemed kind of a lighthearted name for the lair of someone so conniving. Volusian gave us what info he could, and before long, we were finally ready to head out for real. Between this planning and yesterday’s “incident,” we’d lost almost a day and a half of travel time. Having food and warmth made the delay easier to cope with, but we were always aware that a day had much more impact on those still suffering in the blight.

About five miles down the road, we crossed into the Yew Land and paused to look around. The climate was temperate, a hair cooler than the Rowan Land (when not blighted), with big deciduous trees that reminded me of the Pacific Northwest. The forest had its own set of chattering insects and animals and gave off the same rich vibe of life and fertility that the Mimosa Land had had. Both were miraculous after the snowy kingdoms we’d left behind. I was so entranced that I didn’t notice the obvious until Kiyo pointed it out.

“Volusian’s gone.”

I glanced to my side, where Volusian had been hovering along earlier. Sure enough, he’d vanished at the border. “No need to panic yet,” I said. “He seemed to think that would happen. I can re-summon him.”

I spoke the words and waited. I felt the magic stir within me and then spread out when I called for him. As I did, I had the impression the magic was breaking apart and scattering, like dandelion seeds on the wind. Usually, that magic was like an arrow heading straight for him and bringing him back to me. Frowning, I took out my wand and attempted it again. I’d grown so strong in the last year that I’d no longer had to use the wand for summoning him. Now, its extra power might help.

The magic spread out from me again, this time feeling more cohesive and stabilized ... at first. Then, after several moments, I felt it start to fracture again. No Volusian. The fact that I’d felt a change at all inspired me, and I refused to give up. Tightening my grip on the wand, I made a third attempt, using a focus and harnessing of power I hadn’t needed with him in ages. The effort made me tense all my muscles and begin to sweat, but I felt the magic hold. At long last, Volusian appeared, but he was a shadow of his former self. Often, spirits looked different between the human world and Otherworld, with a more solid form in the latter. Volusian was so strong that he appeared the same in both worlds—usually. Now, although his features were the same, he was translucent and wavering, like I’d expect to see from a weak spirit in the human world.

“It seems my mistress’s bonds have overridden those of the Yew Land,” he said. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he sounded impressed, but he definitely seemed a little less scathing than usual.

“Yeah, but not without a lot of effort,” I pointed out. Although I didn’t constantly have to pump magic through the bond to hold me, I had a feeling that slipping up even a little would cause me to lose him again.

“Too much effort,” he replied. “I would recommend my mistress not call me until absolutely needed. If you exert this kind of power continuously, you may weaken yourself for Varia or not be able to command me anymore.”

“Fair enough,” I said. I didn’t feel as though he was close to breaking his servitude, but there seemed no point exerting unnecessary effort. “And now we at least know it works. You can go.” He vanished, and I breathed a little easier.

We continued on, all of us on high alert as we watched the forest for any sign of trouble. Dorian brought his horse up beside mine and said in a low voice, “Was I the only one who noticed Volusian actually advised you of a strategy that would keep you bound to him? Unless things have changed, I’m fairly certain he loathes and wants to destroy you.”

I nodded, thinking back to Volusian’s words. “Oh, that hasn’t changed. But as hard as it is to believe, I think he hates the Yew Land more.”

“That is hard to believe.”

I smiled. “If I did keep him with me nonstop here, it’s possible I would grow too weak to bind him as my servant anymore. True, he’d be able to kill me then—but not while I was in the Yew Land. Because as soon as he broke free, there’d be nothing to pull him back. He’d be banished once again. I think he wants to be here, and I’m the only way to make that happen.”

“Do you think he wants revenge?” asked Dorian.

I recalled Volusian’s animosity when he’d first seen the ambassador’s statues. “Absolutely. Although ... I’m not sure on whom since everyone from that era is dead.”

“Still, you might be courting trouble in allowing him to be here. He might act out on his own—and you might not be able to keep him in check.”

“I know,” I said, wondering what Volusian on a rampage would look like. Not something I wanted to ponder too much. “But he’s still useful to us, which is something I don’t think we can put aside. Besides, this sounds terrible ... but all of us have the same end goals, even him. None of us like the Yew Land.”

“Correction. Volusian doesn’t like the Yew Land. We don’t like Varia.”

“True. Does that mean you think I’m making a mistake in keeping him around?”

“No,” said Dorian, shaking his head. “He’s an asset. And I know how much those mean to you. You certainly told me that enough when I was entranced.”

I groaned and looked away. “I’d been wondering how much you’d remember.”

“Probably more than you’d like,” he said, sounding far too cheerful. “But I found it quite delightful. In fact, I’m very pleased to be invited to train up little Ivy and Thundro. That was most kind of you.”

“Hey!” I turned back to him and was treated to a full-on Dorian smirk. “That is not what I said. Not exactly.”

“But it’s very reasonable,” he teased. “I have skills no one else can teach your children. And it’d be a shame not to pass my legendary charm and charisma on to the next generation. A tragedy, even.”

“Legendary, huh? That might be an exaggeration.”

“It’s truth, my dear. And I’m willing to put it all at your disposal—I’m willing to put anything at your disposal—if it’ll help you and yours. As I keep saying: What wouldn’t I do for you?”

I met his eyes, expecting to see some Dorian sarcasm, but he was utterly serious. I was uncomfortably reminded of this morning, when I’d woken up and seen him alive and well. Something inside of me had opened and felt more joyous than I’d been in a while. I was starting to feel that way now, and it frightened me.

We kept our conversation to ourselves, but our growing rapport was noticeable to others. Kiyo had a lot to say about it.

“So,” he said to me as we took a midday break, “I see you and Dorian are allies again.”

I took a long drink from a water jug as I contemplated my answer. We’d just crossed into another kingdom, as was typical when traveling. It was always a little disconcerting to leave the place you were going to, but Volusian had assured us we’d be back in the Yew Land before long.

“Dorian and I have always been allies.”

“Not the way I remember it,” said Kiyo darkly. “Didn’t he lie and trick you into winning the Iron Crown?”

“He did,” I agreed. “I don’t like it, but I’ve become more understanding of why he did it. It was for the greater good.”

“It was for his own selfish ambition!” Kiyo cast a glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening. “You know that. You know how he is. He wants to use you for his own ends.”

“Maybe,” I said, thinking back on recent conversations with Dorian. “But I also think he wants what’s best for me and my children.”

“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.