Dark Swan Comic 1-4 by Richelle Mead
Dorian admired his work and then nodded to Kiyo. “Well, then, go ahead. Try it out.”
Kiyo hesitated only a moment, as though trying to decide for sure if Dorian had done all of this as part of some elaborate ruse to drown him. Finally, deciding this was a necessary part of the mission, Kiyo set out and stepped onto the bridge. Jasmine and I both were connected to the water and were using our combined strength to make sure the bridge didn’t sink. Between us and the earth wielders, the bridge didn’t budge. Kiyo relaxed slightly and walked out the rest of the bridge’s length. Just before he reached the water, he vanished. A couple seconds later, he reemerged.
“It worked,” he said.
“Well, of course it did. No need to sound so astonished,” chastised Dorian.
“The Yew Land’s on the other side,” said Kiyo. “You can’t even see the water from there.”
“Go there and wait for us,” I said. Kiyo gave me an incredulous look. “There’s nothing you can do here! And we can’t have extra weight on the bridge.”
Reluctantly, he agreed and vanished once more. Slowly, single file, the others began to cross as well. I was a little nervous when the horses stepped out, but those of us who were working magic here were strong enough to keep everything steady. In fact, before long, the four of us were the only ones who remained since we were needed to maintain the bridge’s integrity.
“Go on,” Dorian told Jasmine and Kellum. “We can hold it without you, enough to cross right after.”
Jasmine looked reluctant to go, but Kellum didn’t have to be told twice. He seemed nervous at being left alone with us. The two of them hurried over and disappeared into thin air, just as the others had done. Dorian held out his hand.
“Shall we, my dear?”
I smiled. “It’s too narrow for that. We have to go single file.”
“Mmm,” he said, with a small frown. “Oversight on my part. I’ll have to work on that the next time I build an amazingly brilliant impromptu bridge to save us all.”
“Next time,” I agreed.
Ever the gentleman, he let me walk first. Our horses had already gone on ahead, so we didn’t put much weight on the structure. Plus, he was right that our magic was more than enough to keep the bridge in its suspended state. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much we could do when a huge green-and-red-scaled serpent emerged from the lake’s surface and roared a challenge to us. Along with the tacky Christmas-color scheme, it had pointed gills radiating out from its body. Its mouth was full of sharp teeth and was more than big enough to swallow one of us whole.
“Really?” I asked with dismay. “We couldn’t have gotten a break just once?”
“Go!” said Dorian, with no trace of his earlier levity. “We’re nearly there.”
It was true. We were over two-thirds of the way across. Still remembering to keep the water in check, I sprinted forward. I could see the bridge’s end and knew I was about to reach the other side when the serpent roared again—practically right behind me. I turned and was just in time to see it make a lunge for Dorian. He dodged the attempt and dropped to the ground. Unfortunately, doing so broke his concentration on keeping the bridge up. I had enough presence of mind to continue making the water reject the earth but only where we stood. Behind us, all that rock and dirt crumbled away into the water.
I held out my hand to Dorian. “Come on.”
Dorian started to rise, and then, with speed that seemed too great for its size, the serpent struck out again and knocked Dorian back to the ground. One of its pointed gills or fins or whatever it was called made contact with Dorian’s forehead, and I saw blood appear. More pieces of the bridge started to fall, and I adamantly ordered the water not to accept them. Still, as I watched the serpent come back for another strike, I knew maintaining the bridge wouldn’t be enough. I acted quickly, doing the first thing that came to mind.
I removed all the water around the serpent.
One instant the water was there, the next it wasn’t. Part of the water I simply pushed aside with magic, creating the Red Sea effect I’d speculated about earlier. For the rest of it, I simply caused evaporation. It created a considerable amount of steam, but I could still clearly see the results. The serpent had nothing to swim in, and as Jasmine and I had noted, the lake ran deep. With said lake no longer there to support the serpent, the creature immediately dropped into the chasm created by the water’s absence.
“Impressive,” Dorian managed as he staggered to his feet with my help. I wanted to check his head wound, but there was no time. I couldn’t both hold the bridge and keep the water away for long.
“I’m just glad everyone else was gone so there were no witnesses to that,” I remarked as we scurried across the last few feet of the disintegrating bridge. We were single file, but I still managed to keep hold of his hand nonetheless.
The land shifted, and suddenly, we were both on solid—very solid—ground. The tall evergreens of the Yew Land surrounded us, and the Otherworld’s familiar road was beneath us. I laughed with relief. A smile started to break out over Dorian’s face too, but then his expression shifted to one of horror. Spinning around, I looked for what he’d seen.
Two dozen uniformed soldiers stood ahead of us on the road. Standing with them, tied up and restrained, were our friends. Notably not bound were those from the Hemlock Land. They stood off to the side, weapons drawn—against us.
One of the soldiers stepped forward and gave us an icy smile, along with a mock bow. “Queen Eugenie, King Dorian. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Gallus, general of Her Majesty Queen Varia of the Yew Land’s forces. We’ve come to escort you to her.”
Chapter 19
I was dumbfounded for only a moment until I pieced together what had happened.
I glared at Orj and his companions. “That’ll teach me to give people the benefit of the doubt.”
Gallus chuckled. “If it makes you feel better, you were identified as soon as you crossed into the Beech Land.” So much for Dorian charming the Beech squadron’s leader. “Even if this lot hadn’t helped us, we would have seized you through other means before you reached Withywele. They simply reported on your magic and descriptions to help us further verify who you are.”
I glanced over at Alea, whose spotted falcon now rested on her shoulder again. I’d paid little attention each time she sent him off ahead and only now thought about how he’d never returned this last time when he was allegedly only scouting a short distance. It had been sloppy of me—as was my confidence that not working any great feats of magic would protect my identity. If they already had us flagged because of our physical descriptions, any use of water or air—even if it wasn’t monumental—would tip them off. I’d also been so arrogantly concerned about my own prowess that I hadn’t realized Dorian’s remarkable bridge-building would also be telling.
One of Gallus’s men stepped forward holding silver chains laced with sporadic iron links. “I know these won’t truly restrain you,” Gallus told me. “But I trust you’ll be accommodating about them, in light of this ... situation.” He nodded toward my captive friends, and I saw that aside from being tied up, Keeli and Danil also had copper blades at their throats. Binding gentry with even a little iron was usually enough to stunt their magic, but my human blood protected me. Even chained, I could call on my magic and summon a storm that would wipe out half this group. But I didn’t know if I could do it before Keeli and Danil had their throats slit.
Accepting this momentary defeat, I nodded with a grimace and extended my arms. Dorian held his out as well. The iron would bind him, as it would the rest of my party—even Jasmine. I was the only one capable of magic, but it would do no good until we reached our destination. No—that wasn’t entirely true, I realized moments later. Kiyo would be unaffected by the iron too. His only magic was shape-shifting, and the gentry aversion to iron wouldn’t stop that. I wondered if Varia’s people knew that. Still, like me, Kiyo risked getting someone killed if he acted. We would both have to
The Yew soldiers confiscated our horses and weapons, forcing us prisoners to travel on foot. We walked along sullenly, and I knew that each one of us was trying to figure out an escape plan. The only bright side, I supposed, was that now we knew we were getting a direct ticket to Varia. One of the prevailing theories was that if the gifts were indeed in Withywele, they’d be kept in Varia’s own palace—which was likely to be heavily guarded. Now, I thought bitterly, we didn’t have to break in.
At one point in the trip, Alea passed near me. I glared up at her and Spots. “You guys make convincing refugees.” Along with everything else, it irked me that I could have so misjudged them. Their appearances and frustration had seemed genuine.
“We are refugees,” she snapped. “You have no idea the things our people have suffered.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
She stared stonily ahead. “What we’ve done here has bought us favor with Varia and will lift the blight from our land.”
“If you hadn’t betrayed us, we could have worked together to lift the blight and keep your self-respect.”
With a scowl, she left me and rode on ahead.
Withywele was impressive when it came into sight. The Otherworld had few cities, and while they were hardly strewn with concrete or skyscrapers, there was still an urban feel to them. Stone and wood buildings were built closely together and had multiple floors, something rarely seen outside of castles. The cobblestone streets were busy with horses and people. Vendors were everywhere, hocking their goods. A few buildings were true works of art, with marble and fanciful architecture. Nobody paid much attention to us captives as we went by, though the crowds quickly made way for the guards to pass. Maybe prisoner transport was a common thing around here.
Varia’s palace was one of the pretty buildings. It had rounded domes adorned with that white and green stone the Yew people seemed to like. Damarian jade, that was it. The palace spread out over extensive gardens, which were adorned with statues and fountains. As we passed them, I occasionally caught glimpses of name placards. One statue, of a sharp-faced woman with a beehive hairdo, was labeled Ganene the Great.
Ganene. The name was familiar, and I rifled through my memories to try and figure out where I’d heard it. Soon, it came to me. When Volusian had first seen the ambassador’s statues, I’d mentioned they were from Varia. She must be Ganene’s daughter, he’d said.
Volusian!
Volusian might be my ace in the hole here. Of course, there was one slight problem. I couldn’t summon him in this kingdom without the help of my wand, and the guards had taken that from me.
Inside the palace walls, our party dispersed. The Hemlock people were escorted to “guest quarters” to rest before making some appeal to Queen Varia. As they left, I saw Alea giving me one last look, which turned to a glare when she realized I’d noticed her. I figured the rest of us would be taken to prison cells. What I didn’t expect was that we’d be taken to different ones. Dorian and I were led one way, the rest of our party another.
“Hey, wait,” I protested, coming to a halt despite my escort’s attempts to move me forward. “Where are you taking them?”
“To the dungeon, of course,” said Gallus.
I frowned. “Then ... where are you taking us?”
“To confinement more suited to your stations,” he replied. “We’re not complete savages, you know. We want you to be comfortable so that you’re in good shape when you surrender your lands to Her Majesty.”
“That,” I said, “is not going to happen.”
Gallus shrugged and gestured toward those going to the dungeon. “Protest all you want, but never forget we have them in our grasp. Step out of line, and they die.”
“Forget us,” growled Rurik. “Summon a storm that’ll blast this place to pieces. We’d gladly die to see that bitch ripped apart.”
One of the guards slammed the hilt of his sword into Rurik’s head. “Do not talk about Her Majesty that way.”
“Be patient,” I told Rurik. I didn’t want him killed for any reason, certainly not through guard brutality. I spoke my words confidently, like I had a plan, and I hoped it would give him faith. I also hoped it would give me an idea or two.
Dorian and I were taken to the palace’s third floor, to a forlorn-looking hallway. There, we split again and were led in opposite directions. Even if we were going to royal accommodations, I supposed they wouldn’t want us too near each other, lest we carve holes in the wall to talk. He met my eyes before he was led away, giving me a fleeting smile. It gave me hope because I knew he would never stop planning a way out of this. It also inspired me to keep up my own courage and be a worthy match to his dedication.
But being separated from him made me feel terribly alone, especially when I saw my “royal” cell. If this was one of their nicer lodgings, I couldn’t imagine what the rest of our friends were in. The cell was cramped, with dreary gray stone walls and a tiny, high window that barely let in light through its bars. A straw-filled mattress lay on one side of the room, while a few other “niceties”—like water and a rickety wooden chair—sat on the other.
“Make yourself presentable,” one of the guards told me, after he’d undone the chains. He tossed my travel satchel, which had been stripped of weapons, to the floor. “We will come for you when the queen calls you into her exalted presence. And remember—don’t get any foolish ideas. We have magic users out here too who will sense if you act.”
They shut the door, and I heard a heavy lock slide into place. I gave the door a good solid kick, mostly to ease my frustration. It didn’t work. It was maddening because I was in full possession of my gentry magic and could do nothing with it so long as they held the others hostage. I stared at my satchel. At first, I had no intention of becoming “presentable.” I had no desire to impress that bitch. After a little thought, though, I decided it was less about impressing her and more about presenting myself as more than a bedraggled prisoner. I was a queen of two lands, lands I’d earned—unlike her and her blackmail.
Not that I could do much preparation with such limited means. My recent bath had gone a long way to help, and the water in here let me clean up any smudges I’d since acquired. I combed my hair into a semi-neat ponytail and changed into my last clean sweater, which was green with snowflakes on it. Honestly, did all sweaters have to contain holiday decorations? At least I still had all my jewelry, which gave me some air of regality.
Jewelry ...
A strange, slightly crazy idea came to me. Quickly, I stripped off my rings, bracelets, and necklace and spread them out on the bed. I took an assessment of the jewels I had. Moonstone, amethyst, citrine, quartz, obsidian, and a few others. Worn as jewelry, their powers were passive, mostly offering protection and occasional clarity for focusing shamanic magic. I separated out the ones that could be manipulated into objects of power and put the remaining jewelry back on. Then began the arduous task of prying out the jewels I’d set aside. Stripped of all truly useful tools, I had to rely on the hard plastic edges of my toothbrush and comb. Amazingly, I was able to make it work, but the process wasn’t graceful.
Next, I went to the pathetic chair and attempted to break off one of the legs. The wood looked so old and rotten that I was certain I could do it with my bare hands. Nope. I couldn’t. So, I gave it a few thwacks against the wall—hoping no one outside overheard—that successfully weakened the wood, allowing me to finally pull off a leg.
Returning to my bag, I found a long knee sock (a dirty one, unfortunately) and stuffed all the jewels inside it. I then wrapped the sock around the chair leg, knotting it so that the bundle stayed affixed to the wood without any of the jewels escaping. Satisfied, I stared at my creation.
I had just made the tackiest, most pathetic wand in history.
It would in no way match my confiscated one, but a lot of the principles remained the same. The wood would allow me to focus my magic through the jewels, drawing on their inherent
Casting a wary glance at the door, I stood and held the wand straight out. This magic was shamanic and human. It should be undetectable to the gentry outside. I spoke Volusian’s summoning words and felt the magic falter as it went through the wand. Still, it was stronger than if I’d summoned him unaided. Remembering the effort I’d needed before, I channeled every bit of focus I could into the magic, trying to break through the land’s enchantment blocking his bond to me.
Against all reason, just when I thought I’d failed, Volusian appeared in the cell. He had that flickering appearance again but didn’t look like he was going anywhere. The bond between us had been hard to summon, but I didn’t feel it was going anywhere either. His red eyes took in the scene and then came to rest on my “wand.”
“My mistress summoned me with ... that?”
“My options were kind of limited,” I said, sitting on the mattress.
“I would feel insulted,” he said, “save that it’s a greater slight to those who cursed me that their wards could be overcome so easily.”
I smiled. “Well, don’t get too cocky because we’re still in kind of a mess. Varia’s people have us all prisoner here in her palace.”
“You are still in possession of your magic.”
“If I use it, there’s a good chance they’ll kill off my friends before I can actually accomplish anything.”
Volusian said nothing but gave me a look that clearly stated he didn’t see what the problem was.
“Is there any way you can free them?” I asked. “That would take a lot of stress off me.”
“It seems to me, mistress, it would remove a lot of stress if I freed you.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure I can free myself. Well, maybe. I mean, I’m not the one with a handicap here. The rest of them are bound and blocked off from their magic. I’m not because Varia knows I won’t risk their lives. Once they’re out of trouble, though, I can start doing some serious damage.”