The Fiery Arrow

by Bo Burnette

  A strong arm wrapped around her back, steadying her. She smiled into what she expected to be Philip’s face.

  Brallaghan’s befuddled expression greeted her instead.

  She bit her lip, recalling their similar encounter from the previous evening.

  He slipped his arm from around her back, and she took a few steps away and thanked him briskly.

  With a puzzled slitting of his eyes, he examined her traveling cloak and satchel. “What are you doing, may I ask?”

  She said nothing for a long moment. She glared at Ilayda, signaling her to stay in the shadows. “Just going for a little walk—to shoot some arrows, you know.” She fingered the quiver which strapped across her torso.

  “With a leather satchel?”

  “I get hungry. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  She didn’t like him calling her “my lady,” as if they hadn’t been friends all their lives.

  He dug his boot into a chink in the road. “Perhaps you would like company? It’s dangerous, you know. The fellows have reported hearing noises in the forest. They’ve seen strange things.”

  “Those who stay behind the king’s border have no harm to fear.” She stifled a feeling of guilt at her haughty words. “Now, if you will excuse me, my company and I must go.”

  As Brallaghan stared, she yanked Ilayda out of the alley by the arm and dragged her down toward the lowest tier.

  With cloaks hiding their faces, they got through the peasant district easily enough. Arliss exhaled in satisfaction as they exited the city gate via a small door. They had made it. Ilayda hesitated before the eight-foot wide moat, but after Arliss hurled herself to the opposite bank, she complied and leapt with her eyes shut. The water did nothing but dampen her left foot.

  They scrambled to their feet and strode toward the fields. Leaving the city portended to be the most dangerous thing they had ever done.

  And Arliss loved that.

  CHAPTER TEN: THE DARK TREE

  “What if Philip doesn’t come?” Ilayda asked.

  They had been waiting for well nigh ten minutes. The ripples in the moat from Ilayda’s tumble had long dissipated, and Arliss had even taken off her dark cloak as the October day grew warmer. Her skin tingled in the sunlight.

  She inhaled slowly. “He will come. I know he will come.”

  “I doubt it. His sullen cousin has probably convinced him not to.”

  “Why would you malign the poor fellow? He’s hardly said a word, good or bad.”

  “I’m not maligning him, silly. I’m agreeing with him.”

  Arliss scoffed. “Rather, agreeing with your imagination of him.”

  Ilayda bounded to her feet. “Arliss, you’re ridiculous. Really. Who in their right mind would join you on such a quest? This Philip seems like a sensible fellow. His cousin…”

  “Erik,” Arliss put in.

  “Yes, Erik. His tongue may not work, but his head is likely screwed on well enough. This is absurd—leaving the city, crossing the river. Why do it?”

  “You know bloody well why,” Arliss hissed. “Now hush up and do as you’re told.”

  Ilayda instantly quieted.

  Arliss winced. Had she spoken too sharply? Ilayda was only a year younger. Perhaps she didn’t deserve that.

  She didn’t have time to amend her words. Just around the corner of the village, Philip and Erik strode toward them. Both carried satchels and had swords strapped on their belts, and each wore a long traveling tunic and cloak.

  “Ho, princess!” Philip called. “We got your message.” He fingered the arrow as he handed her the shaft.

  She tucked it away in her quiver. “Thank you. Are we all ready?”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but Erik cut him off. “Wait a moment, my lady. I have a question for you.”

  “Speak it freely.”

  “Does the king know of this expedition?”

  She stiffened. “I have the permission of the queen. It is all right.”

  Erik nodded, but Arliss guessed he was less than satisfied with her answer. Philip seemed utterly satiated with the answer. Ilayda looked like she wanted to begin a speech. Arliss began one first.

  “Well, my friends, we must set off. It is my purpose to spend two full days searching for the glories that lie at the heart of Reinhold. If I have not discovered anything in those two days, we will return to the castle in haste and secrecy. In either case, you will tell no one of our quest. It is…a matter of secrecy for the royalty. If we succeed, I will reward you all handsomely.” Her eyes lingered on Philip and his sheathed sword. “And I will have you two fellows knighted.”

  She turned and faced the distant green woods. She could practically smell the wild forest wind from here. “Now, on to our adventure—for Reinhold!”

  And with that, they marched toward the eaves of the forest. In the opposite direction, feet stamped away toward the sea.

  “What is this place?” Philip asked as he surveyed the open clearing at the edge of the forest. The light of midday squeezed through the canopy of leaves and lit up the space with shafts of glorious sunshine.

  “My little sanctuary.” Arliss leapt up to the immense branch of the tree which had so often been her seat among the leaves. “When court life gets a little stiff, I come out here for a while.”

  “Stiff? It can’t be all that bad, can it?” His eyebrow curved. “I’ve never found the court to be too awful.”

  She pressed her palm onto the rugged bark. “Well, you’re not a princess. And be thankful for that.”

  He flourished deeply. “I can assure you, my lady, I thank God every day that he did not make me to be a princess.”

  Ilayda sniggered from behind him. “Yes—a princess who escapes to talk to trees and goes on outlandish quests! Thank heaven indeed.”

  Arliss glared in her direction.

  Erik stopped circling the clearing and added, “A princess who wastes time talking when we ought to be moving on.”

  Arliss shot him a sharp look as well.

  He amended, “All of you, I mean. We ought to be on the march if we are in earnest about this whole thing.”

  Arliss lifted her chin and, after a moment, slid down the tree. She stepped closer to the others. “I need you three to promise me this: that you will do as I say and follow my command.”

  Everyone agreed. But Erik’s response bore a caveat, “As long as it is right to do so.”

  Then something caught his eye and enraptured his attention.

  Arliss followed his line of sight. She saw nothing at first.

  Then she noticed it.

  Among dozens of other spindly birches there stood a strange tree. Whether sickened with decay or covered in moss, she could not say, but it was black and gnarled. The mere sight of it reeked of death and decay. They approached the tree.

  With no small hesitation, Erik reached out and touched the darkened bark. “Something has poisoned this tree. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “An animal? Or some deadly blight?”

  Erik turned to her, his eyes dark and serious. “Or some deadly person.”

  They walked in silence for some time. Arliss despised the silence. She longed to speak, to laugh, and to make it feel like a real adventure. However, her three partners were as mute as stones, and stones do not make very good companions.

  Just as she was about to lengthen her stride to flank Philip, Erik sidled over to her and seemed to be preparing to speak. She waited, glancing askance at where he stood by her right hand.

  “I hope you have not taken any of my words to be disrespectful, in any manner,” he said at last.

  “Disrespectful enough to make me angry.” She stared straight ahead. “But not enough for me to have you executed.”

  He was solemn until she, unable to contain herself, let out burst of laughter. A minuscule grin flickered on his face as he realized the joke.

  She glanced at the longbow strung about his torso. Unlike her
own, Erik’s quiver hung at his side, for which reason she had not noticed it before.

  “You can draw a good bow?” she asked.

  “Perhaps, but there stands a vast difference between one who can draw a good bow and one who can shoot a good shot.” Erik smiled. “I’ve trained with it my whole life, to be honest.”

  “So have I!”

  “Really? I love to shoot. It’s the only useful form of weaponry in this country. Still, Philip insists on practicing with that blimey sword of his day after day. I spar with him—mostly to amuse his fancy.”

  “Swords aren’t so useless. The king trained me a little bit, ‘just in case, as a last resort for your life,’ he told me.”

  Erik shrugged. “Swords are weapons of war, not the equipment of farmers and hunters.”

  She tilted her head back and forth, feigning indifference. She didn’t want an argument. A debate could clearly go on for hours between them once it started. She reached out and fingered the edge of the longbow. “What a beautiful bow. Elm, just like mine, correct?”

  He nodded. “Here, hold it.” He removed it from his back and handed it to her.

  She fingered the empty string and pulled it back, feeling the weight and tension. “This is the best bow in all of Reinhold.”

  “Keep it, then.”

  She shoved it back into his hand. “No, I cannot take this. It is yours.”

  “Philip made it, you know.”

  Of course—the tillering contraption had been in the carpentry shop. She glanced over at Philip where he walked in the lead, his boots stamping leaf and twig underfoot yet still gliding smoothly across the forest floor. The bow’s craftsmanship seemed yet another confirmation that he could be the friend—the brother—she desired.

  She hesitated a moment before crunching over to him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: CROSSING THE RIVER

  At first, Arliss thought that perhaps Philip had not noticed her. He continued walking onward, crumpling autumn leaves beneath his feet and glancing about the woods every few paces. This went on for some time, and Arliss realized she would have to initiate any conversation which might occur.

  She threw a glance in his direction. “Who taught you to use a sword?”

  He maintained his brisk pace, but his steps seemed to stutter. “Myself, mostly. I mean, my uncle taught me some, but he never really learned much.”

  “Then why did he have two swords for you and Erik to practice with?”

  “They’re not his.”

  “You mean he stole them?”

  “No, of course not! They were my father’s. One of the few things I have left from him.”

  “Then…”

  “Yes, my parents are dead.”

  “I’m sorry, Philip,” she whispered. She liked the way his name glided off her lips.

  “It’s all right. They died back on the isle. I never knew them, really.”

  “How did they die?”

  “My father was always rather sickly. Once he got very ill, far worse than anything the isle apothecary had seen before. Then, after he seemed to be taking a turn for the better, he died in his sleep one night. It was the strangest thing. Grief drove my mother to her grave, so they say. My aunt and uncle raised me, and Erik is quite like a brother to me in every way, as are the rest of my cousins.”

  “And your family is…decently well off?”

  “We’re not rich, if that’s what you mean.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I do sometimes worry that I am burdensome to my aunt and uncle. They have more mouths to feed and bodies to house than most others in the village.”

  “And you are happy? Even as a peasant? Maybe my new friendship with you could bring you some good.”

  He did not answer for a long time. Then he spoke quietly, and she stepped closer to hear his voice. “You don’t understand.”

  “I don’t understand what?”

  “Anything. Can you not see that?”

  “Excuse me, but do you remember who you’re speaking to?”

  “I can speak my mind as well as you can, Arliss.”

  “It’s Princess Arliss, thank you.”

  “No, it isn’t, according to you. You say we are equals, that princess and peasant ought not be so divided. So I shall speak to you as an equal. And—I’m not finished, so save your breath—it’s true that you do not understand. You cannot even comprehend your own quest!”

  Words failed her for a moment.

  “You are in the woods with two people you hardly know on a fantastical quest to find a place that may or may not exist. In fact, I would wager you don’t even quite know what it is we’re looking for. You’ve no real sense of direction—so it’s a good thing I’m in front—and you don’t seem to believe your own ideas, at least not all the way. That sounds to me like you don’t understand.”

  “What do you know? A peasant farmer who has hardly even been out of his own house!”

  “I thought there was no such thing as a peasant.”

  He had brought her to the end of her rope. “I believe in equality between us, but I do not believe in honoring disrespectful subjects.”

  “I’m just explaining my thoughts, princess. You asked me to, remember?”

  She looked away. She wanted to hit him. Every muscle in her body seemed to scream for revenge. She would do it—she would—she had to. He deserved it. No, no, that was a foolish idea; he was far too strong for her to do any real harm to him. She would get her revenge some other way.

  She frowned at herself. Revenge? Absurd. He had insulted her, that was all. She needed to show him he was wrong about her. This quest was about more than just finding the heart of Reinhold.

  If she was successful, she could prove herself, prove that she was indeed the princess on a carven throne which the poem spoke of. She would truly be that princess with a queenly look in her eye and grace on her forehead.

  And perhaps—Arliss disliked herself for consciously entertaining the idea—perhaps she could turn that carpenter’s apprentice into a surrogate brother. Perhaps.

  Philip could hear the sound of running water long before they reached it. He knew every step toward that sound brought him closer to breaking the law of the realm. To cross the river was to dance with death.

  Of course, the blame would lie on the princess. It was her quest, anyway. He glanced at her over his shoulder, noticing her thick golden hair streaming in the breeze. She refused to look at him or acknowledge him. Had he spoken too harshly?

  No, of course not. She needed to hear every word he had spoken to her, and maybe more. If she chose to play the insulted child, then that was her choice.

  He knew what she really wanted; her face gave it away all too plainly. Above anything, she desired a friendship with him. That desire lay under everything she said—of course, until he had knocked her thoughts around a bit. Why had she chosen him for this quest? Why did she want such a friendship? And why was she really doing all this?

  Philip stopped short in his thoughts. They had reached the banks of the river, and greenish-blue water gurgled just beneath his feet.

  Nowhere in sight was there a crossing.

  The river appeared before Arliss so suddenly she had to steady herself on a nearby tree to keep from plunging in. She could have reached out for Philip’s strong form for support. But she did not, would not, could not.

  He paced the riverbank, searching for a crossing that simply wasn’t there. He stopped pacing and strode away to the left. “I’ll look for a crossing this way. You look in the other direction.”

  She nodded, then turned to call Erik over. She flinched when she saw he was already standing right beside her. His steps were noiseless.

  He stared, transfixed, at the tree which had prevented her from drowning.

  The moment she glanced at it, she jerked her hand from the bark and wiped it fiercely on the back of her cloak. But nothing could remove the feeling of having touched something so horrible.

  Darkness seemed to have consumed the t
ree like a tangible shadow. It was like the first dark tree, and yet far more massive and deathly in appearance. She could not have wrapped her arms all the way around it.

  Ilayda caught up to them and tilted her head, her brow wrinkled with curiosity. “What are you staring at?”

  Erik ignored her and addressed his statement to Arliss. “I know it without a doubt now. Someone—evil beast, evil person, or otherwise—has intentionally poisoned these trees. Things like this do not just happen.”

  Arliss raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s something of a disease among the trees, and it’s just a matter of happenstance that we have come across two such trees in the same afternoon.”

  “Happenstance? Do you really believe there is any such thing?”

  “Of course,” she said, but felt inside that she did not know how to reply at all.

  Philip came bounding back to them. “Nothing. There’s not a crossing in sight.”

  Arliss glanced at him, then back at the dark tree. Then she squared her shoulders and faced him. “We’re going to make a crossing.”

  The forest reverberated with the sound of clanging metal as the sword bit into the tree once more, slashing through the murky bark. With a sigh, Arliss folded her arms. How long did it have to take, really? Philip must have been hacking away with that sword for five whole minutes, but with little progress to show for it. She glowered at his bent back as he cut again, swinging the blade from over his shoulder.

  A distant noise distracted her, and she gazed at the other side of the riverbank. It seemed darker over there, though the trees were all lit in a strange manner. Some stood clear as daylight, but whole groups of trees crowded in blots of shadow.

  Those were dark trees, poisoned in a like manner as this one. Even now, she saw such a tree standing at the very edge of the river, just across from where she stood.

  Philip stood. “It’s weakening.”

  “One would hope,” Arliss said.