The Realms Beyond (The Reinhold Chronicles Book 2)

by Bo Burnette

  Arliss’s blood pounded in her ears. “What is the point?”

  “I want to offer you a deal.” Thane smoothed out his cape, letting it flap behind his heels. “Your lives for the Reinholdian gifts. Lead me to them.”

  Arliss stiffened. So he didn’t know where they were, either? “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t be coy, Arliss. Of course you do. I want all of them: the ring, the crown, the sword, the vial, and the pendant. Give me what you have, take me to the others, and I will not harm you or any of your people.”

  Her mind whirled. Vial? Pendant? She hadn’t heard of these. Could they be the secret gifts the page had spoken of?

  Clearly he knew much more than she. “I truly don’t understand half of what you’re saying. But even if I did know where these treasures were, I bloody well wouldn’t tell you.”

  A crackle of wood reached her ears. The flames from her arrows were spreading around Thane’s ship. On the enemy deck, the second wave tensed for their attack.

  Then one of the combatants on the Reinholdian ship spotted the blaze. “The ship is on fire!” he shouted, practically hurling himself back onto his own ship. Many of the others started to follow. Though the ropes still connected the ships, the Reinholdian guards paced the deck, waiting for a move by the enemy.

  Arliss glared at Thane. “Your ship is burning. Soon it will sink.”

  Unless, of course, he shut up and turned away.

  His eyes narrowed to hate-filled slivers as he realized his entrapment. He pointed at her. “Next time we meet on the seas, it will be your ship that I destroy.”

  Arliss raised her bow. “You will not meet me again on the seas, or anywhere, Thane. Your hands have shed innocent blood—but no more.”

  She released her arrow.

  The deck lurched, jerking beneath her feet. The arrow flew wildly off course. Both ships lurched back and forth, the deckhands gripping the guardrails—the mast—anything—for support. Arliss stumbled onto the edge of the forecastle, almost tumbling into the ocean below. She shoved herself back and collapsed in the middle of the forecastle, glancing up to see what had caused the jerk.

  Amidships, Philip had just severed all the ropes connecting the two ships. With the winds filling Thane’s sails, both ships began to stream off in opposite directions.

  Thane’s face twisted with derision. Before his slowly burning ship drifted away, he shouted back at Arliss. “No matter how many fiery arrows you shoot, I can shoot a hundred more back!”

  Then his ship and its flames disappeared, glowing, into the northern fog.

  Arliss’s legs felt unsteady and liquid as she hurried down to the deck.

  Ilayda dashed over to her, her thick brown hair cascading in front of her eyes. “Arliss, it’s him…the one from my dreams.”

  Arliss glanced at where Philip stood over the stairs to the lower deck, one of his fists clenched around his sword, the other clenched around nothing. His eyebrows curved. Not every one of Thane’s men had escaped? It couldn’t be.

  A crop of blond hair emerged from belowdecks, followed by a swath of burgundy fabric. The assassin leveled his knives on either side.

  Philip cut through the air.

  Ducking, the assassin dropped to his knees and locked an arm around Philip’s knees. One motion flipped Philip on his back.

  Arliss rushed forward, fumbling for an arrow.

  Teeth bared, Philip kicked the assassin, half-tripping him. He jumped to his feet just as the burgundy-cloaked fellow rose, knives ready.

  Philip lowered his sword and slammed his fist into the fellow’s face.

  Orlando tumbled backwards down the stairs, his knives gashing the wooden posts on either side as he tried to slow his fall. He slid to a halt a few steps before the bottom, one leg slipping out behind him to catch his weight. That Reinholdian wretch! He’d pay for every ounce of that punch thrice over.

  Shoving one of his knives back in his jerkin, he pointed the other one towards the skylit opening above him just as several persons stepped carefully downwards.

  That rascal of a swordsman led the way, followed by an individual who resembled him—only much taller and lankier. Behind them came two young ladies—one with brown hair and a violet dress, the other owning an unmistakable mop of golden waves that could only belong to Princess Arliss.

  They were all armed and outnumbered him. That didn’t matter so much, as long as they didn’t find out where Thane was headed. If they pursued the ship now, they might actually overcome him. If that happened, Thane would surely blame Orlando, and…

  Orlando shuddered slightly. He would almost rather die than fail his master again.

  He backed up, flipping his cape out of the way. The four persons descended all the way belowdecks—including a fifth person, whom Orlando recognized as the knight he’d fought during the incident with the fiery arrow.

  Princess Arliss stepped forward, her head tilted back slightly. Her blue eyes glinted in the thin shafts of light that cut through from above.

  “Well, it seems that our paths have crossed once again.” Her regal voice took on a biting edge.

  Orlando restrained a laugh. Did she really have to be so formal? He was simply a prisoner now.

  The muscled swordsman scowled at him. “Arliss, just tie him up and be done with it.”

  She huffed a sigh, clearly aggravated. “Philip, enough. Please.”

  Orlando could not restrain the smirk that twisted the edge of his mouth. “No, he’s right. You likely would be better off to tie me up and have done with me. But, since you did not bother—”

  He propelled himself towards the company, slashing his knife towards Philip. The brown-haired girl gasped, drawing her own long-handled knife.

  Philip ducked under Orlando’s outstretched arm and bucked into Orlando’s chest.

  Air rushed from Orlando’s lungs. Before he could catch another breath, Philip had twisted his knife hand behind his back. His lanky companion grabbed Orlando’s other arm. Fighting was now useless. A quiet snarl rumbled in Orlando’s throat, but he remained docile.

  Philip reached for a rope that lay on an adjacent table. “Well, you’re being pretty compliant.”

  “I don’t have much choice, do I?” Orlando gritted his teeth. This fellow Philip had clearly gotten his pride ruffled by being flipped over up on the deck. But he had strength, and some hints of skill. “We need to have a proper match sometime.”

  “Anytime.” Philip pulled the knot taut around Orlando’s wrists.

  Arliss tucked her arrow back in her quiver, but left her bow strung, sliding it around her torso. With all this danger lurking about, she might need it.

  Philip finished tying up the flaxen-haired assassin and glared at her. “Where shall we put him? There’s not a prison cell on this ship.”

  She stepped closer, her eyes fixed on their captive. “Once again, Reinhold must create dungeons because of you—because of Thane. You should be ashamed.”

  The fellow’s nose twitched. “Why? Because I accomplished my mission?”

  “Your mission?” Her voice faded out. This young man and his burgundy cloak had haunted her path for over a year. The questions boiled up within Arliss’s chest. Who was he? Where had he come from?

  She had to know the answers. But he clearly wasn’t planning to spill anything. However, if she had a private audience with him…

  Squaring her shoulders, she addressed Philip. “Place him in the closet with the barrels of wine and fresh water. Leave his hands tied. I don’t want him sneaking a drink when we aren’t looking. Then…” Her fingers fidgeted with each other. “Leave us.”

  Though Philip’s eyes burned with curiosity, he obeyed. Soon Arliss propped herself on a barrel by the barred wooden door of the barrel closet and studied her prisoner. He held her gaze, and she noticed his eyes—a steely gray-blue, crowned by dark eyebrows which contrasted with his smoky yellow hair.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

 
“Orlando.”

  Orlando. She let the name roll silently off her tongue. “I have never heard of anyone named Orlando.”

  “It is a common enough name, where I come from.” Orlando suddenly stiffened as if he had made a mistake.

  Arliss noticed that he had choked on his last words. “And where do you come from?”

  “I don’t come from anywhere.” He looked away from her. “I never stay in one place long.”

  “That sounds exciting,” Arliss offered, ignoring that he had avoided her question. She might get more information if she wasn’t combative. “So, you are an accomplice of Thane?”

  “I think that should be evident by now.”

  “And what is this particular mission about?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  She stood, stepping closer to the door of the cell. “It is every bit of my business. Why are you here—getting yourself captured on purpose while the rest of your men escape?”

  He gripped his knees, looking up at her. “What makes you think I got myself captured on purpose?”

  “I just assumed. Very well, then. Why did you put yourself in a position where you could be captured?”

  He smirked. “How do you know that I didn’t get myself captured on purpose?”

  Irritation burned at the back of her throat. “Good grief, make up your mind!”

  “If I made up my mind, this would be a question-and-answer session, not an interrogation.”

  “Who said this was an interrogation?” She brushed her hair behind her shoulder where her bow had shoved it forwards.

  “You did. Roundaboutly, at least.”

  “All right, then.” Arliss crossed her arms. “If it’s an interrogation you want. Tell me, where is Thane headed?”

  Orlando almost laughed. “Oh, I can’t tell you that. It’s none of your business.”

  “He went north. Is he going back to Reinhold?” Her old fears resurrected. What if Thane’s new hideout lay in the northern mountains? And if her father did not know… “Tell me where he has been hiding.”

  “You are tedious, princess. I already told you—it’s none of your business.”

  “If you say that one more time, I’ll call Philip and have him punch you in the face again.”

  Orlando rolled his eyes. “That’s about all you have use for him, it seems.”

  Something in his words tugged at her heart. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, anyone can see you don’t care a speck for him.”

  She sucked in her breath. Was she really that blunt with Philip? Or was Orlando just unusually perceptive? She swallowed. “You will tell me where Thane is hiding, or I will force it out of you. I dislike torture in every way. But if it comes to it, I will not hesitate.”

  Orlando stood, gripping one of the wooden planks that barred him in with his bound hands. He wore simple green gloves that left his fingertips bare. He faced her, their eyes level. “You do not know where I come from or what I am capable of. You know nothing.” He let his bound wrists fall from the bars. “When Thane holds every one of the gifts of Reinhold in his hands, only then will you have peace.”

  A loud cry came from above before she could answer. Lord Brédan shouted at the helm, “Land ho! The Isle of Light! Land ho!"

  Chapter Fifteen: Ruins of the Past

  BY THE TIME ARLISS’S LONGBOAT CAST OFF FROM the Swan, the fog had settled into a thin mist, turning the fiery red sunset hazy. Striated layers of crimson and gold spanned the sky on either side of the Isle.

  Arliss kept her eyes pinned on the looming landmass ahead of them. Its beaches spread out into a semicircular bay, and its heights stretched up into a threatening volcano.

  A wave of emotion tightened her throat, and she gulped it back. This place had once been her home—the home of the clan of Reinhold. What would it be like? Did anything remain but ash and rubble?

  Ilayda shifted behind her, and the boat wobbled slightly. “We’re here.”

  “Indeed.” Arliss kept her gaze on the Isle.

  “Aren’t you excited?”

  Arliss released her breath slowly. “I ought to be, shouldn’t I?”

  “So you aren’t?”

  “I didn’t say that. Somehow, though, I’m almost frightened.”

  “Because of that villain Orlando?”

  Arliss finally turned to look at her, and Brallaghan and Erik sitting behind her. “No, not because of him. I just don’t know what we will find. I want so desperately to find the treasures—”

  “—but you’re afraid Thane has found them first.” Erik finished for her.

  Arliss nodded. The prisoner who sat in a closet on the ship, carefully guarded, knew more than he was telling. “Thane told me to give them over—as if I already had them! I simply cannot believe he doesn’t know anything of their whereabouts.”

  Brallaghan pulled at his oar. “He’s just trying to call your bluff.”

  “That’s what I think, too, which only makes it all the more terrifying.”

  The longboat scraped on the beach. A tightness gripped Arliss’s chest. She took a breath to ease the pain and stepped from the boat to the beach from which her people had escaped all those years ago.

  The sand that shifted under her boots was not grainy like that by the Cliffs of Aíll. It felt soft around her heels, like delicate dustings of gold. She was tempted to kick her shoes off right away.

  Tall, leaning trees bracketed the edge of the beach, nearly crowding off her view of the volcano. Plants and flowers she had never seen decorated every inch of the foliage within. Yellow fruit hung invitingly from some of the trees. But the beach’s beauty had a sort of haunted irony hidden throughout.

  Crumbling ruins of houses and huts dotted the beach and peeked from the trees. One of these homes had once been her own.

  Tears tugged at the corners of her eyes, so she turned back towards the longboat. Brallaghan was helping Ilayda onto the shore.

  Erik motioned to her. “Would you give me a hand? Ilayda and Brallaghan are going to find a campsite and get a fire going.” He pulled his green cloak over his shoulders. “The nights are growing cold.”

  “Indeed.” She grabbed the rope and helped him tug the boat all the way onto the beach. The tide was waning, so there would be no danger of it washing away. Out on the water, two other longboats drifted towards the shore.

  Erik glanced over his shoulder. “How long has that been happening?”

  “What?” She followed his stare. Ilayda and Brallaghan were laughing merrily as a newborn spark suddenly caught flame.

  “Them, acting like that.”

  “Those two gabbers?” She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “They are in love with each other.” His bluntness surprised her.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. As the Scripture says, don’t stir up love before its time. Ilayda is…well, Ilayda is young.”

  He leaned closer. “She’s no younger than you were when you fell in love with Philip.”

  She tilted her head back, hesitating. She inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her mouth, and tried to keep her words level. “When I fell in love with Philip? Is that what everyone thinks? That, because I danced with him once and then dragged him on a crazy adventure, I’m in love with him?”

  “That’s the impression everyone has.”

  “Let’s set this straight.” Arliss leaned close to Erik. “Your cousin is my friend. I am not in love with him.”

  Erik’s mouth twisted with amusement. “Interesting.”

  Philip stepped over the low stern of the longboat. He took in the heaps of charred and broken material scattered along the beach where houses had once stood, then found Erik and Arliss. “Did you find a campsite?”

  Arliss jerked her head towards the far back of the beach that spanned around the bay like the edges of a bowl. “Ilayda and Brallaghan are seeing to it.”

  Philip’s eyes crinkled with a suppressed laugh. “I’d better go help them.”
He started forward.

  Arliss put a hand on his arm to stop him. He could brush her aside and keep going easily—and what’s more, he wanted to. He cast her a fierce look as if to tell her so.

  Instead of the steely sharpness which had pervaded her attitude the past few weeks, a sort of softness permeated her expression. His eyes meet hers—those deep, blue eyes with their emerald centers—and he sighed.

  She bit her lip. “I need to talk with you. Alone.”

  What was this about? He must have looked more than a little suspicious, because she almost dissolved into tears.

  “All right.” He tried to keep his voice gentle. “Where shall we talk?”

  Still clasping his arm, she led him away from the boats and toward the line of foliage that bordered the beach. “I want to find my old home.”

  He nodded, restraining a tinge of irritation. They didn’t have time for this, not on the first evening. More important now were getting a camp constructed, making shelter in case of rain, and coercing whatever information they could out of that scoundrel Orlando. But something in Arliss’s voice forced him to follow her as she explored pile after pile of wood, stone, and brick. She seemed changed, as if seeing the ruins of her former life had broken her feistiness. He watched as she tenderly scraped through a blackened mess of wood, her slitted skirt spreading out around her like flower petals. Maybe she wasn’t really angry at him?

  No—of course not. The way she had acted towards him back in Reinhold, and even on their voyage, had proved otherwise. The chase across the plains had sealed that. And, no matter what Philip wished, she wouldn’t change. She couldn’t.

  He’d seen it too often before. She could adapt, she could come to understand. She was loyal. But she could not change. She’d practically said so herself: that she wanted their relationship to stay the same way it had for the past year.

  She interrupted his thoughts as they entered the ruins of one particular house. Its sturdy doorframe still stood—as did a few bits of furniture—but otherwise it looked just as burnt and indistinguishable as the others. Yet Arliss came to a sudden halt in the midst of the ruin.