by Bo Burnette
She turned around. “Tell me.”
“The oasis within the mountains—it is not just some pretty place. It has a secret vault. Thane worked for years trying to open it, but nothing he did proved successful. Before you came in and destroyed everything, he had almost reached the point of breaking into it.”
“Where is this vault?” Philip asked.
“Under the waterfall.”
Arliss marched along the forest path in the lead as the others pressed the prisoners along behind her. Cahal walked freely at her side, though his hands were strapped together behind his back.
She surveyed her surroundings. It was impossible to think that this part of the forest had, just one year earlier, been infested with snakes and barricaded with a dark fortress. That fortress no longer stood, and the stones which had once blocked off the hidden oasis from the rest of the world now lined the path which led to it. Arliss—with her father, King Kenton’s blessing—had led a mission to mop up the rubbish from Thane’s fortress and to clear a safe path through the overhanging trees. Those very trees now suspended glass lanterns—lanterns which boasted dried Lasairbláth as their fuel.
With a few more steps, Arliss found herself at the former gates of the fortress. The once-meager river that cut through the former fortress now filled up half the opening between the mountains, rushing across the dell and beneath the rocky mound at the rear.
Nothing could squelch the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach as she stared at the gaping hole in the rock. Thane had disappeared through that very crevice, and somehow she half-expected him to emerge from it at any moment.
Calm down. He would be a fool to return to this place.
Still, the sick feeling in her stomach continued to wave its brazen tentacles. She had almost hoped—or at least expected—that Thane had not survived his trip down the waterfall. Yet now, Cahal’s revelations had reignited her darkest fear: Thane was still alive and had not stopped his plans to destroy Reinhold.
She glanced down at her necklace. She didn’t wear it often—the thick chain, the bulky pendant which resembled a crescent moon. She ran her finger lightly against the edge of the silver moon. If she rubbed any harder, it would draw blood.
She shivered. It had come from this very fortress. And every time she looked at it, she remembered Thane—his murderous villainy, his enigmatic knowledge.
Thane had sought help from outside Reinhold.
And the heavy necklace that rubbed the back of her neck raw? The chill of foreign metal? It was not from this realm.
In an effort to squelch her fears, she turned around and formally addressed Philip and the rest. “Keep watch over the prisoners, Sir Brallaghan, Sir Erik, and Lady Ilayda. Sir Philip, please come with me.” She looked askance at Cahal. “You as well.”
Philip strode over to her and Cahal as they walked alongside the edge of the river towards the stone mound. Tiny droplets of water spurted from the rushing river to land on Arliss’s cheeks, and she brushed them away, only to have more drops take their place. She gave up and let her hand fall to her side.
“Where is this vault, then?” Philip asked as they reached the stony embankment.
Cahal’s eyes followed the sweep of the river as it cast itself into the hole before tumbling down into the unknown below. “Just beneath this waterfall.”
“How is that?” Arliss peered into the rock’s mouth, barely able to see the light and lush greenery which lay beyond the falls.
“Do you think I built the vault?” Cahal snapped. “That is simply where it is.”
Philip dealt him a blow to the face. “You will not speak that way to the princess.”
She ignored this outburst. “How do we get down there? I mean, wouldn’t we be bashed to bits if we just jumped down the waterfall?”
“That’s not my problem.” His eyes glinted. He wasn’t telling her all he knew.
Philip, too, could sense it. He stepped closer to Cahal. “Tell us how to get down there.”
“Perhaps we ought to leave it alone.” Arliss cut between them. “Father will be expecting us back at the city.”
Philip groaned. “Yes—expecting you to continue nagging him about that idea of yours.”
She stiffened, resisting the urge to smack him as he had smacked Cahal. “I don’t nag him!”
“You do nag him.”
“I do not!”
“You do.”
Cahal intruded. “Perhaps you could solve this some other time?”
Arliss huffed. “Fine. Cahal, show us the way.”
Arliss’s fingers dug hard enough into the stone step above her that she felt the tips would be sliced open. The waterfall rushed down around either side of her, but the protruding stone staircase enabled them to descend the falls without being dragged in the water’s flow.
“Doing all right?” Philip called from below her.
She glanced at Cahal, just a few steps above her hands. “We’re fine.”
Philip continued talking through the rushing din of the waterfall. “I didn’t mean to insult you up there. You know that, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“I just think you need to give it up. I mean, look at what we’re about to discover—what we’ve already discovered! There’s enough in your own land to keep you busy for now.”
She almost slipped on a damp, mossy step. “You don’t understand. I simply have to go back. No matter what lies in this vault, it can’t compare to the things we left behind.”
Philip didn’t answer. His steps abruptly ceased below her, and she heard a crunching noise. So he had found the bottom.
Soon she, too, was scrambling off the treacherous stairway and trudging about in the gravelly sediment that lined the shore of the vast pool. The water from the falls tumbled all around them, and Arliss, already wet from the descent, found herself half-drenched in water.
“Philip, nothing you say, nothing my father says, will deter me from wanting to return to the Isle of Light. It’s my duty to our people and our history.”
“What if your duty lies here?”
She only shook her head and turned around to find Cahal descending the last of the steps. He motioned for them to follow as he walked over to the base of the waterfall and—plunging through the flow—disappeared.
Arliss stepped into the waterfall.
The force of the water sent a jolting chill through her bones and plastered her unruly hair to her head. The other side of the falls seemed dim and muggy. The cavelike space only went about ten feet back and sheltered a wide stone door which stood in the center of the mountain’s roots. The door itself was simple, blending into its surroundings, but above it stood a placard with one word engraved in capital letters: CHORÓIN.
“So Thane never opened the door?” Philip asked.
“Never,” Cahal replied.
“Does it have a keyhole?” Arliss stepped closer, fingering the door’s rough stone.
“No, only a strange circular indention where you would expect the handle to be.” Cahal motioned to the indented ring.
Philip folded his arms. “So it can’t be opened.”
Arliss dug her fingers into the circle of damp stone. Despite its rough surroundings, this felt…intricate. Smooth. Strange etchings carved swirling ruts which she traced with her fingernail.
“Whatever’s in here, Thane didn’t just want to get it out. He wanted to protect it.” She turned to face Cahal. “Am I right?”
He shrugged.
She glanced up again to the placard above the door. “What does that word mean?”
“Choróin,” Cahal replied, “means crown.”
Arliss wiped water droplets from her forehead. “Did Thane have a guess as to what that meant?”
“Oh, naturally, my lord shares classified information with his inferiors.”
She whipped out her penknife and shot him a warning glare. “Gossip always leaks out. You must know something.”
Cahal shrugged. “Thane did a lot of
exploring, treasure hunting. This was just one of many spots.” His eyes widened suddenly.
Arliss leaned forward. This could meant only one thing. “Thane’s looking for something on the Isle of Light?”
“Was looking for something. From what I know he long ago gave up.”
Philip prodded Cahal. “And despite all this knowledge, you have no clue about Thane’s hideout?”
Cahal cocked his head.
Arliss stepped away, breathing quickly. This confirmed everything she’d hoped. There was something on the isle, something great enough for the rumors to pique Thane’s interest. And—it seemed—Thane had long since abandoned the isle. That made a voyage there safer than ever. She just had to convince her father.
She glanced over her shoulder. Convincing her father might actually be easy compared to persuading Philip.
Chapter Three: Secrets
BY THE TIME THE COMPANY ARRIVED BACK AT the city gates—having traveled quickly along the newly-cleared path and the bridge which spanned the treacherous river—Arliss was wishing she had brought a cloak. The mid-October air nipped bitterly at her cheeks, warning of a harsh winter to come. It would be much colder than last year’s mild mix of gentle winds and thin snows. This year, there would be strong gusts and thick snowdrifts.
Not, of course, that she intended to be in Reinhold to see it. The Isle of Light probably never felt the chill of snow, and if things went according to her plans, she would winter there. If she waited much longer, she would be trapped by snow in Reinhold until spring. And she couldn’t wait that long.
The company of five, along with their six prisoners, reached the pinnacle of the steep hill which undulated the yellow plain, and instantly the castle tower came into view, the silvery stone shimmering in the reddish glow of the sunset. Arliss’s hair rustled across her face and she brushed it aside, taking the lead as the band neared the city gates.
Once within the recently reinforced walls, Arliss turned to the guards who stood at attention. “Please, take the prisoners to the dungeons and tell my father that I have returned. I will inform him about everything shortly.” She looked at her company and smiled. “Thanks to all of you, Reinhold is finally free of this scourge.”
Philip’s eyebrow arched, but he stayed silent.
She swallowed, holding his gaze. He knew as well as she did that, with Thane still alive and something he wanted still hidden in Reinhold, this was far from over.
Philip, Erik, and Brallaghan joined the guards in herding Cahal’s band towards the prisons on the second tier, and Ilayda rushed on ahead to speak to her parents. Arliss held back, her hands intertwining with each other as she hesitated.
Then, once the others were out of sight, she dashed up the tiers of the hill, taking secret shortcuts to stay out of sight. If someone saw her…
No, no one would see her. The sun had sunk almost beyond sight, and darkness crept across Reinhold like a blanket. She reached the garden gate and slipped in unnoticed.
She kicked her shoes off, letting the vines and flowers stroke her bare feet, smiling as the velvety petals of Lasairbláth tickled her toes. But then her smile vanished. Her heart felt like it was wrapped in chains as she passed Nathanael’s grave.
She came to stand before another, smaller grave. The strength she had maintained all throughout the day’s chase suddenly fled from her body.
She fell to her knees in front of the tiny tombstone, removing every guise she had worn so carefully all day. And she wept. Her tears dripped like precious sapphires, wetting the tombstone upon which was inscribed: “Here lies John Joseph of Reinhold—until the day of resurrection.” Every year on this day for nine years she had come to this place and wept for her brother and the life he had never lived.
Finally she spoke. “I’m sorry, brother. I thought I could replace you. I thought that I would never have this…”
She stared at the tombstone. What was it? Emptiness? Loneliness?
“…this feeling again. But I was wrong.” Her voice died away into a breath. “I was wrong.”
The silence kept its own secrets for some time.
Then a deep, steady voice spoke from the shadows. “Philip isn’t all you thought he was?”
She gasped, glancing up from the grave. “I—I thought you were waiting for me in the hall.”
Kenton stepped out of the shadows near the door. “I was. However, you did not come.”
“Why are you here?” She tried not to sound as bitter as she was.
He knelt beside his daughter. “Because I love you, and I would not have you weighed down by grief. I know too well the paths that this sort of mourning can drag one down.”
She did not reply.
“I did not mean to eavesdrop in this manner, Arliss. But I cannot help but ask, why do you still hold onto this when you have Philip? Do you not love him?”
“He is my friend.”
“Do you love him?”
She shoved her golden hair behind her ears. “Of course—as I love all my friends.”
Kenton sighed. “All right, keep your secrets to yourself, then. I have my ways of finding them out.”
She pursed her lips. “What secrets?”
“Arliss, don’t pretend you do not have secrets.”
“Don’t you have secrets of your own?”
This reply seemed to stun him more than she had expected. He stepped back. “Yes. Yes I do.” In the dimness, she could see his gaze traveling to another place, another time. Then he returned to the present. “Come. They will be waiting for us in the hall.”
She allowed him to hoist her to her feet. As she did, she promised herself she would not let her father understand the reason for her coolness towards Philip. If he knew that their quarrels stemmed from her desire to return to the Isle, he might stop her from going entirely. And, as for her father’s secrets, she determined to discover what they were.
Perhaps they might aid her quest.
When Arliss and Kenton entered the great hall, Philip rose and bowed, but Queen Elowyn remained seated upon her throne. She rested her chin upon her hand as her rich crimson sleeves dripped down her arms. Kenton eased himself into the throne beside hers, but Arliss—noting that Philip did not sit back down—also remained standing. She simply stared at her new throne which had been hewn out of stone from the destruction of Thane’s fortress.
“Well then, what news have you?” Kenton folded his hands.
Philip looked at Arliss as if to defer to her. His eyes flickered in the hall’s fluttering candlelight.
She smoothed out her dress and began her news.
“We have defeated the last of Thane’s bands. Brallaghan is arranging their prison cells even as we speak. But the news is not all pleasant.” She focused on Kenton. “Cahal—the leader of the band—revealed that what we all worried was true. Thane survived and has been commanding these bands this whole time.”
Kenton’s brow wrinkled. “Did he tell you where Thane was last seen?”
She shook her head. “They don’t know. Thane commands them vicariously, without them ever seeing his face or hearing his voice.”
Elowyn let her hand fall. “It was only a matter of time before Thane returned.”
Kenton nodded. “What else did Cahal reveal?”
Arliss’s throat tightened as her hands intertwined. “Nothing, really—”
Philip interrupted. “You’ve grown a bit out of practice at lying, Arliss. Which, of course, is not a bad thing.”
As she seethed, he turned to the king. “In truth, Cahal revealed one of Thane’s greatest secrets. Just beneath the waterfall in the hidden oasis, a curious vault is nestled in the stone. Thane had apparently tried to open the door for years but never found a way.”
“It’s nothing,” Arliss insisted. “Just a slab of rock with neither knob nor handle. It can’t be opened.”
Kenton rested both his forearms on the sides of his throne. “Arliss, Philip has every right to be interested in this vault, just as
you have every right to be interested in the Isle.”
Arliss closed her eyes and exhaled. “Yes, I know. I just—I feared that you would use this as one more reason to stop me from going.”
“I may have reasons against you going back to the Isle, but this is not one of them.”
“Perhaps if you told me those reasons, I wouldn’t feel like I was grasping at nothingness in the dark.”
For a painfully long moment, everyone was silent. Philip tried to catch her eye, but she avoided him. She peeked at her father for a moment before glancing away.
Elowyn met Kenton’s gaze, and both nodded. She rose from her seat, the crimson sleeves flowing down past her hands.
“Come, Arliss, it has grown late. I thought you might like a cup of tea before bed, perhaps? You need rest, since the Games begin tomorrow. I suppose you have not forgotten?” With that, she settled her hands on Arliss’s shoulders and guided her out of the room.
As soon as the ladies had adjourned, Philip strode over to where Kenton sat meditatively stroking his blond beard, now flecked with gray more than ever.
With a restrained sigh, Philip settled in Arliss’s throne, waiting for the king to speak.
“I do not think I will ever truly understand Arliss,” Kenton said finally.
“You’re not alone.” Philip stretched out his tired limbs. “Just when I think I’ve figured her out, I find something new. I suppose it’s nice to have a girl who keeps surprising you.”
“Philip, there’s something I must tell you. Arliss would not want me to, but I think it is my duty to you. I’ve come to think of you as my own son.”
Philip offered a grateful smile.
“I know that you love her more than anyone. But…I fear she does not feel the same way.”
Pressure mounted in his chest, but he maintained a calm face. “Nonsense. I can assure you that our friendship is mutual.”
Kenton reached out to take his hand, and he felt the years of sorrow and toil in the leathery palm. “Arliss is going through a difficult time, whether she knows it or not. She is learning to act as an individual, and that means she will act in ways that antagonize some people.”