by Bo Burnette
The city shops and lights crawled out along the river, away from the bridge and towards the sea. The river purred with the sounds of celebration, the parties of those who hadn’t been important enough to be invited to the castle.
Ilayda put a hand on Brallaghan’s arm to stop him, her eyes dancing with the sights along the river. “Wait. It’s so beautiful. Can’t we enjoy it a moment?”
“We don’t have time. It’s just a city. There are plenty of others in the world.”
She turned her head sharply to look at him, and her neck crackled. “This night in this city, though. It only happens once. And I’m going to stop and enjoy it for a moment, silly boy.”
His lips pursed with humor, but he said nothing. They stood there a moment, leaning over the stone railing of the bridge, taking in the colorful storefronts illuminated by torches and lamps. Ilayda mentally traced the glister of the river’s rippling reflections.
She let out a thick sigh. If only they could spend the evening on one of those boats, just watching the lamplight flicker on the water in front of them. But that was not for this evening, it seemed. Brallaghan’s posture was tensing by the moment.
“All right, I’ve had my moment.” She pushed away from the railing. “Lead on.”
He drew his sword, and together they closed the rest of the distance between themselves and the far tower. The open entrance looked like some dark mouth ready to swallow them up.
She followed him into the nothingness. Her eyes refused to adjust to the darkness for some time, so she followed her other senses. The smell of a long-dead fire mingled with the scent of some sort of flower. Perhaps there was a garden nearby.
She reached and rubbed against Brallaghan’s leather party jerkin.
“I think we’re alone,” he whispered. “This seems to be more an abandoned garrison than a prison.”
“No one’s been here for at least several hours. Maybe we should go back.”
“Not until I find my father.” His voice was sharp and cool.
“What about Arliss and Philip? They could help us find him?”
Brallaghan snorted. “They’re only interested in finding those stupid treasures—long-lost treasures, if you ask me. Isn’t my father’s life more important? Shouldn’t that be the entire goal of our mission at this point?”
“We’ve been captives of Eamon, and now we’re guests in a foreign land. It’s not like any of us could do anything, anyway.”
He sighed. “You’re right. But we have to press on.”
“Erik is a skilled tracker. He could help us even more than all the others.”
Brallaghan stepped away from her and farther into the slowly lightening room. “I don’t need his tracking, thank you.”
Ilayda folded her arms. “Don’t you think—”
The sound of several voices cut her off. She gasped. Some of the guards were returning from the party, already crossing the bridge.
She stumbled forth and caught herself on his arm. “Guards…on the bridge…we have to get out!”
He gripped her arm and guided her to the far side of the rounded tower to a stairwell. Ilayda squinted as they crept swiftly down its steps.
Her heart thudded uncontrollably. Something clanked up above her, then a light trickled through cracks in the floorboards. The guards had returned.
She kept a light touch on Brallaghan’s back as he swept his hands around the wall.
He finally reached a door. Please let it open for us, Ilayda prayed.
The latch clanked a moment before sliding inwards. Both of them stumbled out of the garrison tower and onto a swath of grass. Brallaghan eased the door shut.
Ilayda leaned against the stone tower, watching the river flow from this dark side of the bridge under to the lights of the city. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
Brallaghan stepped down to the riverbank. “It’s only the beginning of our fun. Come on.” He started walking, following the river as it curved to the north.
“Where are we going?” she asked finally.
“To find the trains,” Brallaghan replied. “I overheard Eamon mention them at the party. We’re going to find out what they are.”
Chapter Twenty-seven: In League
PHILIP DODGED A TREE THAT SEEMED TO APPEAR out of nowhere. In the dark, the garden might as well have been a labyrinth. He hoped he would be able to find the south wing—the location of Arliss’s chamber—in this thick gloom.
Behind him, the river flickered with lights and the chatter of guests leaving the party on boats. From where did they leave to board? His question was answered almost instantly.
Torchlight flooded out into the garden as a doorway just behind him burst open. He darted forward, sliding his hands rapidly across the castle wall. Voices murmured behind him. The castle wall slanted sharply to the right, so Philip hid himself in the shadows around the blunt corner.
This had to be the south wing. He looked up, trying to see if he could identify Arliss’s chamber window. Nothing, not even a flicker of moonlight on glass, met his eyes. He shifted his feet to peek around the corner at the light.
Shattered glass crunched beneath his feet. He eyed the trail of shards. Fragments were scattered all across this part of the garden. Some were only slivers the size of raindrops; some were panes as big as his hand.
The trail ended suddenly with a pair of eyes—human eyes, clear and bright and hidden within a tree’s foliage.
Philip started, slamming himself back against the wall.
The eyes flickered, but their owner didn’t move. Had this person been watching him this whole time? And he had thought himself so quiet, so cautious.
More talking reached him from the corner. His ears itched to hear what was being said, but he couldn’t turn his back on the mysterious figure in the bushes.
Finally he could bear it no longer. “Who are you?”
The voice laughed. “A bloody better spy than you are.”
He snorted. Spy, indeed. The glass shards alone were a first-rate mark against her. He leaned around the corner and focused on the torchlight, then whispered, “You can come out, Arliss.”
She stepped free of the branches, brushing leaves off her skirt, and joined him by the wall. “Did you jump out of a window, too?”
“Not much choice, was there? But hush—look who it is.”
A man and a woman strode across the lawn towards the river. The man bore a torch. Someone else—a servant, Philip supposed—stayed within the castle, also bearing a torch. The man and woman were deep in conversation, and Philip recognized both instantly by their voices.
“…just a bit uncertain,” Eamon was saying, his husky voice carrying easily across the night wind.
“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about.” Merna’s voice carried even more smoothly. “I assure you, we hold no ill-will toward your guests. It’s simply a bit world-changing, you know? The three clans are three once again.”
Eamon growled. “Don’t play games with me. You have long known about Reinhold’s existence, yet you have spoken nothing of it to Merwin, or to anyone.”
“I only guessed, you presumptuous man.”
“You are in league with Thane, are you not?”
Philip could only imagine the fire in Merna’s eyes as she spoke. “No, I am not. But even if I was, I am the queen. Who are you to tell me what I ought and oughtn’t do? You are only a trade partner.”
Eamon turned sharply around, and his torch quavered. “I am more than that, and you know it. Forgive me any disrespect, but all these years, and you knew the truth about Reinhold, yet you refused to tell me.”
“You assume too much. Remember, Eamon, you carry that sword for a reason. I don’t give out ancient gifts to just anyone, and I will take them back from anyone who stands in my way. Do as I have said. Stay out of Thane’s way, and keep the peace. Surely you can see we need to keep the peace?”
“Not your kind of peace.” Eamon turned and trudged to the water’s edge.
Merna’s voice became even more shrill. “Do you mean to break our ties?”
“I mean to find my friends and keep them safe,” he replied. “And I mean to keep this sword. We may keep the ties if you wish.”
“Watch your step, Captain Eamon.” She walked back toward the castle, the train of her gown gliding across the grass.
Philip held his breath. He would wait until she was long gone before pursuing Eamon.
Apparently, Arliss didn’t hold his opinion. The moment Merna reached the castle wall, she darted across the garden and towards the river.
“Arliss!” The voice vibrated from the door of the castle. “Out so late, are we?”
Arliss winced and stopped running, halfway to the riverbank where Eamon seemed to be signaling a distant boatman. Anyone in the garden could have heard Merna’s call, and of course Eamon turned around to see what the new fuss was.
The other torch bearer had retreated farther back into the passage. Merna stepped a few paces out of the shadows, but she still remained swathed in darkness. The blatant green of her dress looked almost bland in the dark. “What are you doing, my dear?”
Arliss bit back her anger at Merna’s interruption. “I just wanted to take a walk in the garden.” She glanced to where Philip remained hidden.
Merna chortled. “It’s much too late. A sensible person like you ought to be in their room.”
“Why aren’t you in your room, then?”
“A fair question, isn’t it? Maybe you forgot I am the queen of this land. I have a duty to make certain the grounds are safe and quiet before I adjourn for the night.”
“Don’t you have palace guards to watch the garden? There were dozens of them at the party.”
“They are busy.”
Arliss kept a cheery note in her voice. “Busy doubling as assassins, or something like that?”
Eamon started up the flowering bank, his hand on his sword.
Merna clicked her tongue. “It looks like you’ve trained another presumptuous one in such a short time, Eamon.”
“Leave her be,” Eamon demanded. “It is high time we were all in bed.”
“If it’s time for bed, why are you sneaking off—and right after conversing with her?” Arliss jerked her head towards Merna as she tried to glare an answer out of Eamon.
His eyes bored into hers, telling her there was more than he could say at that moment. “I have business in the city to attend to. Now go back to your chambers and get some rest.”
“My chambers?” Her chest tightened as her voice mounted. “I’m not setting foot in that palace again this evening. More than likely she’s hidden another assassin in my closet.”
Supposing assassins had been sent to finish the others off as well? Ilayda hadn’t been in the chamber. But then again, neither had her knives. Arliss held her breath and prayed they were all safe.
Merna stepped forward. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t understand all your allusions to assassins. I’m not planning to assassinate anyone.”
Arliss didn’t look at her. She squinted to make out the figure who remained far back in the passage. “Of course you’re not.” She gripped her bow behind her back. “Because you already planned it, and they failed.”
Merna’s face took on a pleading gentleness in the moonlight. “Arliss, dear, dear. Won’t you come into one of the parlors and have a glass of wine? You’ve been up terribly late, and I’m afraid it’s twisted your head. A drink and then to bed, will do you good.”
“I don’t want any more of your alcohol. All I want right now is a good cup of tea.” Arliss addressed the shadows. “Philip, you can come out and talk with us. Perhaps your opinion will do some good in this instance.”
Philip inhaled sharply, but he wouldn’t step out of the shadows.
Merna looked around, bewildered.
Arliss then raised her voice loud enough for the figure with the torch in the passage to hear her.
“Come on out, Thane. We could all use a little more light.”
No matter how many times she heard it, Arliss could never get used to Thane’s laugh. It had haunted her paths for more than a year, poisoning even her dreams. Now it echoed out of a strange castle passage and into a strange garden in a strange land. Arliss felt more than a bit uncomfortable, despite the fact that she had so easily revealed his presence. Even Eamon looked shocked as Thane strode out of the entryway, pulling his dark hood from over his face.
“It seems we meet in every realm, doesn’t it, Arliss?”
“Regrettably, yes.” Her fingers slipped toward the knives in her jerkin. “But now your true colors are showing for once, with no fine talk to screen them.” A wry smile tugged at her lips when she saw Merna’s open mouth. “I’ve broken down your walls.”
“My walls?” Thane assumed a pleasant grin as he joined Merna.
Eamon ascended the bank, still clenching his sword pommel.
“It’s all plain now. You are in league with Anmór. And you—” Arliss advanced toward Merna. “—are in league with him.”
Merna folded her silken-sleeved arms, a melodious laugh trickling off her lips. “Oh, Arliss, so many presumptions! Thane is another one of my traders, much like Eamon.”
“Trading in what? Lands? Realms? Reinhold would make a pretty price, wouldn’t it?”
Merna dropped her arms and cast Thane a warning glance. “I don’t know how many different ways to say it, Arliss dear, but your existence has come as a complete shock to all Anmórians, not least of all the crown.”
“Perhaps we are a shock to most of Anmór. But I don’t think you were as surprised to see us as we were to see you. You’ve been sponsoring Thane all along—the goods, the troops, the weapons. The ship that carried Orlando to Reinhold. Orlando himself, isn’t he one of your private guards?”
Merna snorted. “You’re a fool. I have done no such thing. Thane is merely a chief trader. And what is Reinhold to me, anyway? A speck on a map, worlds away.”
Arliss drew the knives. “You think you can blind me, but I’ve seen too much. You’re trying to take my country from me—from my people—and I will not have it. And as for those treasures of Reinhold which I’m sure you’re dying to get your hands on, you certainly won’t have those either. Those you haven’t already stolen, that is.”
Thane, Eamon, and Philip eased towards Merna and Arliss. With Thane came the light, shimmering over the weapons each of them held.
Even Merna gripped a wicked knife curved like a fang. Her tone hardened beyond laughter. “None of the gifts of Reinhold are in this city. We have our own gifts of Anmór, do you not know?”
“That is not true!” A new voice sliced through the ring of tension, crescendoing from the dark passage.
Merna, Thane, and Eamon all jerked their heads towards the new speaker.
But Arliss smiled. So did Philip. Of course—he would know this voice anywhere. Even she could not mistake it for anyone else’s.
An arrow on his longbow, Erik stepped into their midst between Philip and Thane. “The crown of Reinhold is in this very palace. That captain there bears the sword. As for the ring, I don’t know, but I suppose it can’t be far away.”
Merna gaped for a moment.
Arliss grinned. He’d found this out so fast—and so certainly. But what about the “secret” gifts? Where were they hidden? One of them, Orlando had said, was a vial of powerful medicine. The others she could not recall.
Merna sniggered uncomfortably, as if each laugh stuck in her throat. “You are a very clever young man.”
“Thank you.” He bowed, the edge in his voice piercing. “You are a very clever queen. Unfortunately, your guards aren’t. One of them is now learning the feel of a rope around his wrists and ankles.”
Merna snapped and charged Arliss, her knife flashing.
The others rushed into action. Eamon and Philip both dashed over to protect Arliss, but Thane slid in front of them. Erik darted around the whole mess, trying to get through to Ar
liss.
Loose hair blinded Arliss’s vision. Merna had shoved her off her feet and now stood above her, readying the knife for a plunge. It flicked moonlight into Arliss’s eyes.
Tightening her grip on the knives, Arliss rolled over and kicked at Merna’s legs. The queen tottered on her absurdly high heels and collapsed in a bed of red flowers, her gown slipping off her shoulders.
Arliss jumped to her feet. Erik pointed an arrow at Merna, convincing her to stay down.
Thane stood warily in a triangle with Philip and Eamon. None of them would move. Arliss pointed one knife toward the poised swordsmen and one at the sniveling queen.
Thane snarled. “So much for your allegiances, Eamon.”
Eamon had changed out of his party clothes into something a bit more casual, and his forearms rippled. “You are threatening me and my friends. There is no need for any of us to take life. Sheathe your sword, and let us delay this conflict a bit, eh?”
“You cannot always delay conflict.” Thane sidestepped, and the other swordsmen matched him. “Sooner or later, you have to fight.”
“Then let it be later rather than sooner.”
“It matters not when it comes,” Thane said, “if your sword is dull.”
He cut his sword in a smooth line level with Eamon’s neck.
Eamon parried just in time, hardly able to divert the strength of the blow. Thane struck again, and the edge of Eamon’s blade whizzed as Thane cut down it.
Thane tried to slice from above, but Philip thrust his sword to block, adding to Eamon’s defense. Together they shoved Thane back a full three paces.
Arliss turned both knives towards the fight, her arms tense as stone. Thane and Merna were outnumbered. Still, this night would not end well if they stayed a moment longer. Perhaps Thane and Merna both deserved death, more than most did, but right now—in what was clearly enemy territory—she didn’t want to do it. The entire Anmórian army would be on them in an instant.
She caught Thane’s eye in the darkness. He smirked, his gaze falling to the grass around Arliss. She followed his eyeline just in time to see a flash of steel—