The Realms Beyond

by Bo Burnette

  Elowyn eased herself onto the chest. “Are you sure you’ll be all right without your cloak?”

  Arliss nodded, though the shiver in her spine told her it was a lie. “I’ll move more easily without it.”

  The stiff lines in Elowyn’s neck relaxed as she leaned down on the makeshift bed. “I am not well. I had already forced my way through much difficulty once you found me in the library. I’m afraid I have been badly bruised.”

  “If only I had medicine for you…” Arliss found her voice fading out as an idea faded in. She scrambled through her satchel, fingers bumping against everything except the thing she wanted.

  Finally she pulled it out—the glass and metalwork burning her hands with their coolness. She held it out to her mother. “The vial of Reinhold. It is supposed to be a very powerful medicine.”

  Elowyn shifted her head to gaze at the object which Arliss pressed into her outstretched palm. “How do you open it?”

  It was a good question, and one Arliss hadn’t come close to answering. She took the vial from her mother, once again running her hands across its smooth, gently embellished surface. Elowyn was right. The vial showed no apparent method of opening. A deep indention notched the top—perhaps where a cork might be—but the indention was lined with solid metal, not empty as it should have been.

  The shouts and orders of the battle seemed to be nearing. Arliss pivoted, her boots sliding through the slush by the bank of the moat.

  The battle had ceased for the moment. Now Kenton’s troops staggered back towards their fallen city, faces haggard and weapons lowered. Some dragged or carried wounded; some the dead. Arliss pressed the vial to her heart as she watched them stream towards her: grim faces plastered with blood and dirt.

  One grim face stood out from the throng. He was perhaps taller than most of the others, and his hair and beard shone gold flecked with gray. He carried himself like a king.

  Arliss dropped the vial into her bag and ran to her father. He met her embrace, his weary arms enfolding her. He caressed her head with innumerable kisses. All around Arliss, the snow and the darkness and the gore fled away. She felt only warmth, love.

  Kenton stepped back. “You’re alive.”

  Arliss nodded, pulling him towards Elowyn’s makeshift bed.

  Kenton stumbled to his knees beside it, his trousers soaking up the snow. “El—”

  The queen turned her head. “My love.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” The queen inclined her chin against the cloak. “Or, I will be.”

  Kenton’s brow tightened. “Not if the battle continues as it has been. Thane’s battered our forces. Without some grand idea or at least reinforcements, there’s no hope.”

  Arliss drew out the vial. “We found this. It can’t be opened, but perhaps Thane will parley.”

  Kenton lurched to his feet. “No! You cannot reason with that fool. His heart is blackened beyond reason.”

  “I don’t want to reason with him. I just want to give him what he wants in exchange for what I want.”

  “He will kill you before you speak.”

  Arliss stroked her bow, tilting her neck. “You doubt my skill.”

  Kenton reached for her shoulders, practically crushing them as he stared into her eyes. “No—I doubt Thane’s honor. And I love your life. You may not throw it away like this.”

  She stiffened between his massive palms. “At least let me fight with you. We can protect each other.”

  He released her shoulders. “Battle is no place for a woman. It isn’t honorable.”

  Pressure multiplied beneath her breastbone. She paced around the box, glancing to her mother for support. “I am the greatest archer in Reinhold. You know that! It would be wrong for me to forsake my clan.”

  Kenton’s chest heaved beneath the clinking of chain mail. “If you were to die, that would be forsaking your clan to the uttermost. If you die, the line of Reinhold dies with you.”

  “There is still Eamon,” Arliss offered, but her father’s words had already bound her spirit with heavy stones.

  “If Eamon was still alive, he should have returned with you. He should have been here. Where is he?”

  Arliss bit her lip. “They were delayed. They sent me on ahead as quickly as they could. I don’t know what has happened to them.”

  Across the field, Thane’s troops were reassembling. Their store of boulders and stones had run out, but the catapults had already accomplished their purpose. Now they were setting fire to the catapults, which rose into the blackness like giant bonfires. The sheer size of the enemy flickered in and out of withering flames.

  Kenton turned back to Arliss one last time. “Stay here. Protect your mother at all costs.”

  “I would fight. I could.”

  He touched her cheek. “I know you could. But there is no honor for a woman in war.”

  “War is hardly honorable for anyone. But it is necessary.” Arliss stuck the tip of her bow into the ground. “I will do as you ask of me.”

  Kenton leaned down and pressed a kiss into Elowyn’s shuddering lips. “I love you.”

  Elowyn reached for his hand, her eyes barely open. “You will come back for me.”

  Kenton turned and strode across the battlefield to rally his bedraggled troops.

  A layer of smoke from the battlefield burned Elowyn’s eyes. Kenton had left, and now she had nothing but the tingle on her lips where he had kissed her.

  She leaned her head against the thinly-cloaked metal box. It felt cold and hard beneath her. The sky above stared down, equally cold and hard—black and white blending into gray. It had to be a few hours past midnight by now. Elowyn’s heart sank as she wondered how few of them might survive to see the sunrise.

  A rich, throbbing noise sounded across the plains.

  Arliss crept to her feet, groping for an arrow. “You heard that?”

  Elowyn nodded. “What was it?”

  Arliss shook her head. “I couldn’t tell.”

  The sound came again, warbling from the direction of the northern mountains. Rich and throaty, it bellowed across the plains again and again—growing nearer each time. Elowyn searched her memory.

  Arliss stiffened. “It’s the carynx. Mother, it’s the carynx. But it cannot be…”

  “The carynx?” Elowyn felt for the sides of the chest. “The carynx Kenton gave to Philip?”

  “Yes.”

  Elowyn craned her neck to gaze into the north. At that moment, a rushing glimmer of light and shadow materialized from the dusky northern plains. She could hear shouts—not the bloodthirsty Anmórian battle cries nor the defeated rallies of Kenton’s men. These shouts roared with triumph and confidence.

  Arliss hooked her fingers around her bow. She peered into the snowy darkness, as if waiting for an answer to a question.

  The shouts and flickers neared. Suddenly Arliss’s face lit up with joy. The mere sight of her face sent chills down Elowyn’s spine.

  “Mother! It’s Philip! And Eamon! They’ve returned!”

  Elowyn laid her head against the chest, resisting the pain that burned in her sides. “God be praised.”

  Arliss turned again. “It is them—and they have all the young archers in their train!”

  “Go,” Elowyn ordered. “Go with them!”

  Arliss locked eyes with her mother for a sliver of a second. Then she turned and ran to join Philip’s charge.

  Chapter Forty-four: Thane's Bargain

  THE FASTER PHILIP MOVED, THE MORE EVERYTHING AROUND him seemed to slow down. His sight blurred until he could see everything clear as day. The five senses were irrelevant. They had all bled into one sensation: the sensation of battle. Blood and snow became one with cries and slashes.

  They were about to break Thane’s infantry line. Kenton’s troops were all but spent. There was no use in joining him now. The attack had to hit Thane from more than one angle. Philip gritted his teeth and kept running straight forward, at least ten paces ahead of
Eamon.

  The slits of her purple dress flying, Arliss darted into Philip’s peripheral vision and joined the charge.

  His focus shattered. Everything he thought he had built up—all the courage, all the clarity—vanished in a single moment.

  Philip levied his sword. They had almost reached Thane’s infantry. Fifty paces…forty…

  Arliss gave him a curious glance. “Eamon’s letting you use the sword?”

  He tightened his palm around the bejeweled grip. “It seems so.”

  She let her arrow fly into the Anmórian ranks. Then she raised her voice and shouted through the thick air at the Reinholdian forces: “Reinhold! To Philip, Reinhold! The sword of Reinhold has come!”

  The archers took up her cry. “The sword of Reinhold has come!”

  Philip’s spine tingled, more from the cold than anything else.

  And then the lines collided. Battle began.

  The moment their charge pierced Thane’s troops, Arliss lost track of Philip. She lost track of everything except the purpose calling her forward. Find Thane. Parley. Save Ilayda.

  The thoughts flushed through her brain as she drew back arrow after arrow. To her right, Eamon was scything through Anmórian troops with a two-handed sword. He hacked off one warrior’s head and swept past another’s defenses with the same slash.

  Arliss shouted to him. “Eamon!”

  He kept fighting, sword slashing through the snowfall. “Your highness?”

  “We have to get to Thane! Where is he?” She nocked the next arrow as the previous one skewered a soldier’s shoulder. He staggered back into his comrades who started to drag him away.

  Eamon finished his duel with a deep thrust. He jerked his head back towards the center of the fray, where the fiery arrows had been shot from. “Our cousin sits in comfort behind the protection of the archers.”

  Arliss licked her lips and tasted a hint of blood. “Would you mind clearing the way for me?”

  Eamon tilted his sword. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Arliss pounded across the barren landscape. The snow here had all been melted or scuffed away beneath hundreds of feet.

  Ahead of her, Eamon tore through Anmórian ranks, cutting down a clear path for her. She had an arrow on her bow, but waited to use it. The strap of the satchel hugged her chest and flapped at her side. She had only four shafts left in her quiver.

  Perhaps those would be enough.

  Thane’s archers pointed their arrows towards Eamon and Arliss as they neared, but Eamon pressed on.

  Arliss’s neck tensed, but she kept after him. There wasn’t any turning back, not now. At least twenty arrows pointed directly at her. If she turned about, her life would be at Thane’s mercy.

  They had left the thick of battle behind. Philip’s forces sifted through the enemy lines, and there they fought like birds trapped in their own nest.

  Eamon cut through the last remnant of infantry, and they both stumbled onto the smooth patch of snow which separated them from the archers. Behind the line of bowmen, a row of charioteers stood at ready, awaiting orders.

  Their commander trotted on a grey destrier, prancing back and forth between the archers and chariots. His oilcloth cape dripped over his horse’s haunches, revealing the dual swords which hung at his sides. His breastplate gleamed in the moonlight. His pale face seemed even paler, his scar even deeper, in the dance of torches, moon, and stars.

  Arliss released the tension from her bow. “We have not come to fight! We want to speak with Thane!”

  Thane drew his horse to a stop. “Why should I converse with you?”

  Arliss made a point of sticking her arrow back in her quiver, and she tilted her head at Eamon to lower his sword. “Because we both have something each other wants.”

  Thane stared over the line of archers at her with hatred in his eyes. And he relished it. He no longer skulked about like the craven beast he was; he reveled in his cowardice, his greed. His mask had become his cloak.

  He dismounted, clearing his throat. “Saigheada síos. Ag réidh.”

  The archers lowered their bows and parted.

  Thane strode between their ranks toward Arliss and Eamon. “Where are the king and queen? Do they not speak for their own?”

  “I am the princess. You can talk to me as well as anyone. And, as you may know, my parents are otherwise occupied.”

  “Ah, yes.” Thane smiled without showing any teeth. “So, you’ve come to bargain?”

  “Yes.”

  Thane shook his head. “Simple as ever, I see. Why should I bargain with you? Your city is destroyed. Your army, outnumbered. I could destroy you at once.”

  “You underestimate Reinhold’s strength,” Arliss said.

  “And you underestimate mine.” He stalked closer. “A line of archers waits for my command to kill you and Eamon. Why should I sit here chatting when I could have you dead—and still have the gifts?”

  “Because they aren’t all with me at the moment. And if these gifts are really so important to you, it would be foolish to pass up so easy a chance to get your hands on them.” She pulled the satchel over her head and hooked her bow in its place. “I don’t have any use for them. I could destroy them.”

  “No!” Thane shouted, then caught himself. “No, that wouldn’t do at all. Name your terms.”

  “I want Ilayda, Brallaghan, and the Lord Brédan—alive. You will parley with my father, and in the meantime withdraw your troops.”

  Thane gripped his hands behind his back and paced. “Tis a steep price. What do you offer in exchange?”

  “The crown, the vial, and the sword of Reinhold.” Arliss pulled the crown and vial out of the satchel. “Philip has the sword at present. I offer them all to you in exchange for what I have asked.”

  He slit his eyes and stopped pacing. “I seem to recall there were three others. What was it—a pendant, a sphere and a ring, I think?” The sarcasm in his voice sounded like poison.

  She let the gifts drop back into her pack. “We don’t have the other gifts. Please, Thane. It’s all I have.”

  Thane pursed his lips into a smile again. “Desperate, are we?”

  “I thought you were the one desperate for the gifts.”

  Thane let out a dry laugh, then turned and snapped his fingers at one of the charioteers. “Bring forth the prisoner!” He turned back to her, his cape flapping. “Arliss, dear, you do not comprehend the meaning of the word ‘desperate.’”

  She swallowed. What trick was Thane going to produce now?

  Thane whirled back around. “The prisoner?”

  The charioteer mumbled. “Sir…that chariot is missing.”

  “Missing?” Thane echoed. “What in hell do you mean?”

  “It’s missing, sir. Not here.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Well, what happened to it?”

  The charioteer shook his head, shrugging.

  So Brallaghan must’ve put himself to good use and freed them all. Or maybe Ilayda had done it. Either way, Thane didn’t have them to bargain with anymore.

  Arliss smirked. “You seem to have lost your bait. Desperate, are we?”

  Thane only scowled.

  “What happened to your prisoners? Escaped already?”

  He shook his head. “We carried only one prisoner on the chariots—that girl.”

  Her heart sank. Had Brédan and Brallaghan been killed? “Where are the others?”

  “Perhaps you recall I stole your ship and your crew, a little more than a week ago? Orlando is bringing that pitiful tub up the river now.” Thane stretched his hand northwards, a bit beyond the city.

  Arliss looked to the river which fed the city’s moat. The ship Brédan had built—The Sea Swan—was drifting downstream towards the city.

  She could imagine Orlando’s burgundy cloak whipping around at the helm.

  She turned on Thane. “What have you done to them?”

  “They’re quite all right. However, Orlando has orders to set fire to the
ship in a few moments. The ship and your crew—including Brédan and Brallaghan—will turn to ashes.” Thane inhaled. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  He placed his hands on the hilts of his swords. “I’m missing part of my bargain—the girl Ilayda. You’re missing part of yours—the pendant, the sphere, and the ring. Thus, I’m willing to make you a deal. Hand over all the gifts you have, and your ship and crew go free.”

  Arliss faltered. This was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? To give Thane the gifts, and gain a parley? Yet without the certainty of Ilayda’s safety, the deal soured her stomach. What if Thane was withholding the truth? Supposing he really knew where Ilayda was?

  Thane stepped backwards. “I will give you ten minutes to think it over. After that, the fire begins.”

  Arliss stepped away, each of her footsteps feeling heavy as stone upon the snow. Thane called for his troops to regroup, and Eamon rushed ahead to give the signal to fall back.

  The ship—her ship—rounded the bend of the river and entered the moat itself, which wrapped around the crumbling ruins of the city.

  She gave the vessel one long, searching look. Then she jerked her bow from around her chest and ran to find Philip.

  Chapter Forty-five: Reinforcements

  “YOU’RE MAD,” PHILIP BLURTED AFTER ARLISS TOLD HIM her plan.

  She wanted to slap him. “I’m not mad. Surely you see this is the only way.”

  Kenton shook his head. “Not the only way. It is only one of many.”

  Eamon shrugged. “It’s the most sensible way.”

  Arliss nodded her silent thanks in his direction. “If we can stop Orlando and recover the ship, Thane will have nothing to offer in exchange for the gifts. If he’s hiding Ilayda, perhaps he’ll reveal her. And if not, at least it will force him to delay the battle.”

  “Will it, though?” Kenton asked. “If you don’t return with your answer, he will suspect something immediately. He has the upper hand and could crush us easily.”

  Arliss shook her head. “You go—or Eamon. Stall for me. Tell him I’m still considering the bargain. Make a big show of setting up a tent for me to think in.”