Shadow Heir

“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 plenty 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.”

“To see if it’ll sink?” asked Kiyo dryly.

Dorian smiled. “To see how far it’s needed. My guess is that after walking on it a bit, there’ll be a land shift and we won’t need to build this out as far as we think.” He gave Kiyo a once-over. “You’d be an excellent volunteer, seeing as in a pinch, your fox form would be light enough to scurry out of there or be lifted with Pagiel’s air power.” Pagiel’s expression told me there was a good possibility he’d let Kiyo sink.

“You can’t be a volunteer when someone suggests you,” said Kiyo.

I sighed. “Stop being contrary and just do it, please? I’ll be guiding the water, so you don’t need to worry.”

Alea seemed impatient with our delay. “While you debate, I’m going to send Spots ahead to scout.” She crooned more nonsensical words to the bird and then set him free. He took off, powerful wings carrying him over the water. He flew in a straight line over Dorian’s bridge, cleared it, and then soon vanished out of view.

“There you are,” said Dorian. “That’s where the land shifts. We’re almost there already. Wait just a moment, volunteer.”

Kiyo rolled his eyes. Dorian and Kellum resumed their bridge-building, stopping when they reached a point that was just past where Spots had disappeared. To our eyes, the bridge ended abruptly in the lake, but those on it would cross into the next kingdom before reaching the water.

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.