The Wild Swans (24 page)

Two of the soldiers started shoo
ing the swans back to the water, but five of the swans wouldn’t budge. Instead, they hurried forward, hissing and beating their wings. The soldiers blocked their way with their spears, holding the birds back.

One of the soldiers
had already retrieved the sack Elise kept the finished shirts in, as well as the sack that held the nettles she collected the previous week. He bowed to her as she passed him.

As
Elise headed over the crest of the hill, she could hear the swans clicking and grunting, calling to her. Elise squared her shoulders and walked on, not daring to look back at her struggling brothers.

Elise kept herself schooled and her features set as the guards guided her through the palace grounds. Her gnarled hands grew clammy
, and she could feel her heart beating faster in her chest, but no one would have guessed this by the noble expression she fixed on her face.

All too quick
ly Elise stood in front of King Torgen.

“I
was wondering where you’ve been hiding. No one has had so much of a glance at you since my son left,” King Torgen said over a banquet table that was laden with food. He bit into a drumstick and studied Elise’s escort. “Where are the birds?”

“They flew off
, My King,” the soldier holding Elise’s bags of knitting supplies said.

K
ing Torgen narrowed his beady eyes at the soldier and slurped his wine.

The soldier kept his expression plain
; his manner did not betray his lie.

He probab
ly had practice.

K
ing Torgen shrugged and returned his attention to Elise. “Although my soldiers might be incompetent bird catchers, at least they managed to find you. Sit. We must chat.”

One of the soldiers pulled out a chair from the banquet table
, placing it close enough that King Torgen could speak to Elise in a plain voice but far enough that Elise could not reach the table.

Elise wondered if the soldier did this on purpose to keep her out of strangl
ing reach as she sat down and the guard set her knitting materials on the ground next to her.

“At ease
,” King Torgen said to the guards. “Return to your posts.”

The guards
moved to the corners of the room, standing at attention.

K
ing Torgen watched them go before he turned his rotten eyes on Elise. “You are disturbing my son.”

Elise folded her hands on her lap.

“He used to be an empty-headed fool, wandering about like an idiot and blithely doing whatever he wished. Now he talks of loyalty and love, and despairs that none of our subjects love us with passion and perseverance. He was useful as a fool. But now he
thinks
about people’s feelings. I cannot believe it took him so many months to gather enough selfishness to go fishing. He hardly is at home in the late summer. Because of you, he’s been kicking up his heels, talking to people, giving servants the day off,” King Torgen tossed his chicken leg aside in disgust. “I intended to let him be an idiot until I no longer felt like ruling, and then I would break him to make him a suitable king to rule a place as forsaken and wretched as Verglas. But I cannot let him head down the path of
nobility
. What use are loyalty, respect, and honor? None! So I must cleanse him of these stupid notions you have given him.”

K
ing Torgen looked to Elise, as if he expected a reply.

It took every ounce of Elise’s courage to stare K
ing Torgen down. She was sweaty and her heart thundered as loud as ever, but Mikk would have been proud of the emotionless expression Elise gave the twisted ruler.

K
ing Torgen picked up the chicken leg again. “I shall have you executed,” he said in the same conversational tone a person would discuss the weather in.

Elise’s chin quivered for a moment
before she snapped down on the reaction and tilted her head back.

“Yes
, I must,” King Torgen said, as if imagining her contrary claims. “This new sickness of his is most certainly acquired from you. I suppose I could exile you, but I’ve always loved a good killing.”

Elise clenched her hands together
, making them tingle with pain as she stared at the monster hiding in a man’s skin.

“I cannot
have you hanged of course, and I cannot give you a trial. Everyone knows you’re harmless and quite wretched. But there is one thing I can accuse you of that will remove all those pesky barriers,” he said. “This is your own fault. Someone should have taught you as a child that good doesn’t always triumph. In fact, it rarely does. Loyalty and love are for the fools in this world,” King Torgen said, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not sorry you’re go
ing to die. I quite look forward to it, actually. It’s so fun to crush the weak and the innocent,” King Torgen said. “Now, pick up your sack and show me what is inside.”

Numb
ly, Elise did what she was told.

“Ah-hah! I thought so. Guards
, arrest this girl! She is a witch, and must be put to death,” King Torgen said, leaping to his feet.

The guards approached Elise.

“What proof is there, My Kin—,” one guard asked.

“You want proof? Look in her bags and see the foul
, dark magic she knits,” King Torgen said.

“It is
cowls made of nettles,” a soldier said.

Shirts
, Elise internally corrected him, her mind blank as she listened.

“On
ly one devoted to dark arts would use such a loathsome plant. Who knows what foul end she would use them for? Besides, I can smell black magic miles away, and it is plain to me that she not only possesses it, but she
loves
it. Arrest her! Shackle her and throw her into the dungeons.”

One guard collected up Elise’s knitt
ing materials; another clasped heavy iron shackles around her wrists.

Elise
caught a glimpse of King Torgen’s smirk. He won. No, it wasn’t even a matter of winning. Elise never stood a chance.

Elise opened her mouth to shout out her innocence
, but she caught sight of the sack of shirts. She was
so close
. She couldn’t speak now. It would ruin all her work. Elise knew in her heart that Arcainia couldn’t wait the months it would take Elise to knit seven shirts again. Arcainia need the princes
now
.

Elise shut her mouth and let herself be led away. When the guards led her out of the din
ing room and shut the door behind them, peals of laughter escaped from the chamber.

K
ing Torgen was an evil, twisted man.

Elise
was led down stairs, into the bowels of the wooden castle. Elise never thought such a pleasant-looking place could have such a foul corner in it, but it did.

The dungeons
were made of black stone. Even light from the torches was swallowed up and muted by the oppressive atmosphere.

It
was silent, like the stillness of a body after the skeleton fingers of death strangled the last gasps of life from it.

The guards led Elise to wooden door set in the black stone and opened it. It
was an empty cell. There was nothing in it—not even a pile of dirty straw or a bucket. Once inside the cell, Elise could see that the wooden door had deep gouges, as if someone clawed at it, and was spattered with blood.

There
was one window in the room, but it was at least a foot above Elise’s head, so she could not see out it.

Elise shivered as the guards removed the shackles and set her nettles and
shirts down on the ground.

“May whatever
has guarded you thus long be with you, my lady,” the last guard said before he closed the door.

Elise shivered in the cool air
and looked at her knitting. There was still a chance she could complete the last shirt. She would have to take the biggest gamble of her life and hope she could finish it before King Torgen finished her.

Elise squared her shoulders and settled down to work
, unearthing her knitting needles and the last of her nettles. She wouldn’t fail Arcainia, and she wouldn’t let her brothers suffer anymore.

Chapter 12

Elise worked as long she
had light, and even after the last bit of sun left the open window, Elise knitted, blindly feeling the rows of loops and knots. For once she was grateful she was knitting nettles. They rewarded her with a sharp, stabbing sensation that bit into Elise’s fingers when she looped them correctly.

Elise
was so intent on her work that she almost missed the footsteps outside her window. She jumped when something slammed against the bars of the window.

“Elise?”

Elise stood and ran to the window. “Rune?” the cell wasn’t wide enough for Elise to back up and see outside the window, but she would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Are you okay?” Rune asked.

“Never mind me—what are you doing here? If the guards catch you, they’ll drag you before King Torgen,” Elise hissed.

“I’ve been climb
ing around the castle since I turned human. Security is tighter than I thought. I tried breaking into the dungeons, but there are too many guards,” Rune grunted as a scraping noise echoed in the cell.

“You can’t rip the bars out
, Rune. They’re set in stone.”

“I’ve got to try. I can’t leave you here.”
Rune said before he toppled from the window. His shadow covered the window again shortly after as he boosted himself back up into the window.

“Rune
, it’s fine.”

“No
, it’s not,” Rune said, sawing at the bars with a knife. “Brida spent the whole afternoon trying to pinpoint your location, but she couldn’t slip past security.”

“And you could?”

Rune chuckled. “I’m not the heroic brother just because of my good looks,” he said. “Hold on. I’ll be back; I just need to find a pick-axe of some sort.”

“Wait. How many minutes until you turn back into a swan?” Elise asked.

“…”

“Not many
, right?”

“I
wasted too much time trying to get into the dungeon entrance. Don’t worry, I will get you out.”

“No
, you won’t.”

“You can’t know
that,” Rune argued.

“Rune
,” Elise said, cutting him off. She swallowed in the silence and shut her eyes as she leaned against the wall. She heard a scraping noise, and looked up to see Rune stretch his arm down through the bars.

Elise reached up and clasped his hand
, squeezing it tightly. “I’m afraid,” she admitted.

“Swan or not
, I won’t let you die, Elise,” Rune promised.

Elise nodded. “Thank you
,” she whispered.

Elise held Rune’s hand even after all the blood drained from her arm. She clung to him like he
was her lifeline.

All to
o soon, Rune said, “I have to go.”

Elise loosened her grasp on his hand.

Rune, however, didn’t let go. “We won’t leave you, Elise. I won’t leave you.”

“I know
,” Elise said.

Rune squeezed her hand again
before he slipped from the window, disappearing into the night.

Elise brushed tears from her eyes
, and she turned back to the last shirt. While Rune spoke to her, the moon had risen high in the sky, shedding just enough light for Elise to knit by.

“There’s no way I could sleep
, so I may as well work,” Elise said, sitting down on the floor. “King Torgen is wrong. Goodness wins, and love always triumphs.”

Dawn came. The red rays of ris
ing sun leaked into the cell, giving Elise light to see by. Her knitting was no longer neat rows, but downright sloppy. The loops weren’t even, and some holes were too big, but Elise didn’t have time to worry.

Not long after the sun rose
, the door to her cell swung open.

“Elsa
, it’s time,” a guard said.

Elise stopped knitt
ing long enough to place a hand on her rebellious stomach when it heaved. She swept up the capes and grabbed the last fistful of nettles she had left before the guards could say otherwise.

The guards didn’t shackle her this time
, and one kindly took her six finished shirts from her, letting her knit and carry the seventh cape.

“Whatever reason you do this for
, I think it is time you admit the loss,” a guard softly said.

Elise ignored him. She
was so close. She would free her brothers and leave Verglas, or she was going to die by King Torgen’s hand.

The guards led Elise
outside and into a cart. Elise sucked in the fresh air, grating for the change after spending the night in the dank dungeon.

As the cart rolled along
, Elise buried herself in her knitting. If she acknowledged the guards’ pity or her own fear, she would crumble.

When the cart stopped
, Elise glanced up and paled. All warmth fled her body as she stared at the tool of her destruction, a massive pile of wood gathered around a pole.

She
was going to be burned at the stake.

Elise tried to swallow
, but her mouth was too dry, so she yanked her head down and kept knitting as the soldiers helped her down from the cart.

“Good
; you’ve brought her tools of witchery. Throw them in the fire with her,” King Torgen said, rubbing his hands as he gleefully inspected the kindling and wood.

Citizens of Ostfold left their homes
, gathering in the city square where Elise’s burning was to take place.

Elise
was tied to the stake by a guard who wrapped rope around her waist, leaving her arms and legs free. Elise inspected the seventh shirt. The front and back of the shirt weren’t stitched together all the way, but it would have to do. She was out of nettles and time. As Elise tied it off, she studied the crowd. Somewhere… she would be somewhere…
there
!

Brida
was near the front of the crowd, a dark expression pasted on her face, and a sword strapped to her belt.

She
was going to attempt a rescue. It was a valiant idea, but they stood a better chance if Elise’s foster brothers weren’t birds, and if she could talk. Elise tried to get Brida’s attention, but the captain was busy watching the guards.

A tremendous splash from the city fountain drew Elise’s attention. Flounder
ing in the fountain was a large white bird. A swan!

When it looked at her
, Elise desperately held up seven fingers and waved them in the air, but bodies moved in and the crowd stood in between them, blocking sight of the swan.

Elise hoped the swan
was Falk—otherwise everything was going to be in vain.

K
ing Torgen adjusted his crown and turned to the crowd. “Citizens, you are gathered here today to witness justice at its finest. It was discovered that this girl, whom many would think to be innocent or perhaps a little mad, practices dark arts.”

Elise’s lip curled in disgust as she cast her knitt
ing needles aside and shook out the seventh cape.

A guard moved to put Elise’s six
shirts on the wood at her feet, but when Elise stretched out her hand, he draped them over her arm.

“She
has on her person burial shrouds knitted with foul intensions and made with the stems of the Stinging Nettle. We have no doubts of her crimes,” King Torgen said.

Most of the Ostfold citizens hung back in the city square
, but several of the more blood-thirsty variety crowded to the front.

“Burn the witch! Burn her!”

“Let the fire crack ‘er bones!”

What a terrible place. No wonder the assassins guild is legal
, Elise thought as she strained her neck and looked in the sky for seven white swans.
Where were they
?

“
As you know, the penalty for practicing black magic is to be burned at the stake in accordance with the law, the burning is being held in a public place for all to see. Are there any objections?”

“Burn her
! Burn her!”

“Death to dark magics!”

“No witches allowed in Verglas!”

On
ly a few citizens shouted insults, but the rest of the crowds knew what speaking out would mean. So they watched Elise with sad eyes that expressed their sympathy and terror.

Elise wanted to hate them for refus
ing to question their king. But when she glanced at him, his revolting smile made her shiver, and Elise supposed it was too much to ask for a people who were ruled by him.

“Then let the burn
ing commence,” King Torgen said, gesturing to a soldier who held a torch.

Elise listened for the flapp
ing of wings. Instead, she heard a very familiar shout—the one Brida uttered during her sword exercises.

Brida lunged at the soldier
, her silver sword flashing in the morning light. The soldier dropped the torch when he dodged the blow. Other guards moved in, engaging Brida in combat.

“It’
s the witch’s minion. Restrain her!” King Torgen said.

Brida kicked a guard in the kneecap while block
ing a blow from another. She elbowed one man in the throat and swept a leg back to smash a soldier in the face. It was little more than a brawl, but Brida was winning.

The crowd murmured
, watching Brida fight tooth and nail. In all likelihood, no one had attempted to rescue one of King Torgen’s victims before.

“I said restrain her
,” King Torgen repeated, growing testy.

More soldiers left their post to help their comrades in the scuffle.

Elise gaped at Brida as the determined female fought her way to her. The captain used every piece of her body to fight back. She head-butted one soldier, bit the fingers of another, and kneed a man in the stomach.

Eventual
ly the soldiers gave up subduing her and used sheer numbers to drag her down. Before Brida hit the ground, she drew a dagger from her belt and threw it to Elise. A soldier tackled her when she made the throw, so her aim faltered, and the dagger hit a log near Elise.

Elise reached for it
, but it was too far away. She tried reaching out with a bare foot, straining to grasp it with her toes. It was still too far away.

“You
, get a torch and set fire to the witch,” King Torgen said, grabbing a soldier who was helping one of the men Brida lashed out at.

“
But—,”

“You question
me
?”

“No
, Sire,” the soldier said, grabbing another torch.

Unlike the other torch
-bearer, this soldier hurried. He thrust the torch into the kindling and tinder, which caught fire immediately. The lower logs were smeared with animal fat and lamp oil, so the kindling flared into a fire faster than usual.

Elise started to sweat as she strained against the ropes
, still reaching for the dagger. The straw used as the tinder produced a lot of smoke, and it burned Elise’s eyes and throat. Her eyes teared up as she struggled through the haze to grab the dagger. The heat of the fire started to warm her feet when the first swan burst through the smoke.

Steffen
.

Elise stared
, but when the swan flew past her Elise gave up on the dagger and threw a shirt at the bird. It hit him, but Elise didn’t see what happened after as he disappeared through the smoke.

Elise could hear the crowd gasp and shout
, but she was watching for the next swan, huddling as close to her stake as she could while the fire crept up the logs.

Two swans appeared next
, flapping their wings and bringing a breath of clean air with them.

Nick
, Mikk
.

Elise threw the
shirts, and the swans disappeared.