The Fiery Arrow

by Bo Burnette

  She was in a defensible structure—a castle of sorts. A turreted wall spanned the width of the stony clearing behind her, and guards patrolled its crenelated heights. In the middle of the wall’s base hung a large door beneath which flowed a small, slow river. It trickled straight across the entire clearing, disappearing beneath a tall stone platform which overlooked the entire fortress.

  Short stone embankments had been erected to help contain the water’s flow. But there must’ve been some other dam concealed beyond the guarding wall. The river flowing through the forest was much too vast and raucous to be limited to this thin, trickling stream. The stream was at least seven feet wide, but the water slithered along, as if its flow was being dragged from behind.

  This master clearly wanted a hideout both defensible and camouflaged. Only if someone followed the river all this way into the forest could they find this place.

  So this was the heart of the land. She hadn’t known what to expect to find, but it certainly wasn’t a dark mountain fortress. The old legends described this land as beautiful, wild. But the land of Reinhold around her was dark—mysterious.

  Had Erik and Ilayda escaped? Were they even now getting help? Even if they were, could they find her? Erik had proven his skills as a tracker and a woodsman, but not even he could uncover this castle built into the heart of the mountains.

  And where were these warriors keeping Philip?

  Arliss expected the men to shove her into one of the long galleries which spanned the sides of the clearing, connecting to the front wall on either side, but they walked straight on, keeping the river beside them. They were headed for the stone platform at the far back of the rocky dell. The platform had been carved flat atop a mound of uneven stone, and staircases had been hewn on either side of the mound.

  They reached the right hand staircase. On the opposite side, across the river, another guard was leading Philip up the stone steps.

  At the top of the mound, on a throne-like chair, sat a pale, dark-eyed man. He fingered a gilded goblet in his right hand, and his left stroked an old scar on his jaw.

  Thane had come.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE PLANS OF ELOWYN

  Ilayda’s lungs were burning. Another step, another stride, she told herself. Forcing herself to match Erik’s sprinting pace, she promised her aching sides and pounding feet that the run would soon be over.

  Over and over and again, her worn boots smacked the alternating grass and rock that carpeted the plain between the forest and the city. Already they were nearing the city itself—the singular stone tower shimmered in the brazen morning sun—but still Erik did not slow down. Not until they reached the drawbridge and burst through the open gates did he pull back, his pumping legs halting. Unable to stop her own momentum, she slammed into him.

  “Sorry.” She swiped brown hair out of her face.

  Erik nodded at her apology. “We made it. Time to find the queen.”

  Ilayda took a step ahead. “She often lingers in her garden in the early mornings. Sometimes Arliss and I have joined her. Come on, I’m sure she’ll be there.”

  He hesitated. “Do you think we’re allowed in the royal gardens?”

  “You forget I live in the castle.”

  The first tier of the city was almost empty but for the few craftsmen who had their doors wide open for business. Most were out in the shaded western fields, harvesting as much of the potato crop as they could before the busyness of the day began in earnest. They rounded the corner up into the busier second tier, then Erik hesitated. “Perhaps I should go to my house. My parents will want to know that I’m all right, and…”

  “And that Philip isn’t? Erik, we have to get to the queen without delay. Parents will slow us down. They’ll want to talk, want to know everywhere we’ve been, and why only half of us have returned. There is no time for any of that.”

  “Ilayda!”

  She whirled in the direction of the voice.

  Her father.

  Erik nodded at Adam’s swift approach. “Speaking of parents slowing us down.”

  She groaned, covering her eyes. “Not now!”

  “Ilayda, what have you been doing?” Adam had almost reached them.

  She whispered to Erik. “Distract him. I’ll run to the castle.”

  He crossed his arms and curled an eyebrow. “You’re going to talk to him. You have to.”

  As her father closed the distance toward them, clouds slipped over the sun and blotted out some of its burning light. Ilayda shivered. November would be upon them in no time at all, and any remnant of the summer’s heat would be long gone. She shivered also not from the cool but from fear—fear that her best friend could be dead or dying.

  Stand strong, she told herself. For Arliss.

  Her father clasped her shoulder and pushed the hair off her face. “Where have you been?”

  She forced a smile. “It’s a long story, and all very interesting.”

  “Tell me—no subtractions or additions from the truth.”

  “Of course.” She nodded. “But, one moment. You see, I had something pressing I was about to do.”

  Erik stepped forward.

  “Who are you?” Adam eyed Erik’s shabby tunic. “No knight of Reinhold, I’ll bet. What are you doing with my daughter?”

  Ilayda stood between them. Erik probably wouldn’t defend himself. “He’s my friend, Father, and a decent fellow in his own right. He’s the son of the carpenter.”

  He pulled her back. “You would do well to leave my daughter alone. Who are you to run off with her like this?”

  Fires lit in Erik’s eyes, and his neck tensed. “Who am I? I am the one who scouted our journey, found our way, fought off assailants, and saved your daughter’s life. That is who I am, Lord Adam.” He grabbed Ilayda’s wrist. “Now, if you will excuse me, we need to get to the queen.”

  “The queen?”

  “Yes, and it’s urgent. Let us go!” Ilayda pleaded.

  He scowled at them. “Two days! Two days you stole my daughter from me, and now you both return expecting to get off without telling me what you were up to.”

  “I didn’t steal your daughter.” Erik’s voice dropped low. “You don’t know the half of it. None of this is my fault.”

  “Then whose is it?”

  Erik and Ilayda exchanged glances. Should they tell him? Her father already disliked Arliss enough. The conversation from Mrs. Fidelma’s shop rushed back into Ilayda’s mind. Goodness, it seemed a lifetime!

  “Speak!” her father demanded. “You’re not going anywhere if you ignore me.”

  Ilayda exhaled. “Arliss. It was Arliss’s idea, her plan.”

  Adam huffed. “I should have known it was her fault, foolish princess that she is. Is she not traveling with you? I assume she decided to show up late again.”

  “Father, please stop. Stop being so cruel to her. She is my best friend—my sister—and I beg you not to speak of her like this. She’s in trouble, and we have to help her.” Ilayda nodded to Erik. “We’re going to the queen, and I do not care what you say about it.”

  She stepped away from him and strode up the hill. Uncertain as she felt, she swallowed and tried to keep a confident poise.

  Behind her, Erik turned to her gobsmacked father. “She can be quite difficult, can’t she?”

  The wind that whispered through Elowyn’s hair spoke of change: not only the change of seasons, but a change in the realm. The mountains stood tall in the distance, keeping their own secrets. The plains lay quiet. The village sprawling on the tiers beneath her had been stirred up by something, and a restless feeling pervaded the very air. The queen closed her eyes, adjusting the silver circlet whose jade stone dripped down her forehead, encircled in tiny sterling vines. Her bare feet stroked the soft grasses and silken flowers which carpeted the small garden in green, crimson, and lilac.

  Beside her on the stone bench, Nathanael cleared his throat. “Two days without the king and the princess. Reinhold is quiet.”


  “Yet they are screaming on the inside. Something is coming to Reinhold, something which even I cannot see.” She sighed. “These past two days, I have felt the presence of God’s Spirit about this city more than ever before. But there is something else. Something dark lurks as well, trying to find a way in.”

  She opened her eyes and faced him. “I am worried about them.”

  “Kenton’s company will be fine.”

  “Oh, not him. I am worried for Arliss and Ilayda. Two days it has been since they left, and two days was the allotted time I allowed her to be gone.”

  “It is unlike you to worry, Elowyn,” he said.

  “I know. Perhaps it is foolish of me to worry, but I do want to know that my daughter is safe.”

  The wooden gate to the garden clicked open and Ilayda rushed in, dragging a tall young man behind her. She almost tripped over a grove of bloodleaf as they both stumbled towards her, winded and unable to speak. The look in Ilayda’s eyes offered a flicker of the ill news she was about to share.

  “Sit.” Elowyn motioned to the bench.

  The young man bowed. “I am Erik, your majesty.”

  Elowyn nodded at him, but her eyes were on Ilayda.

  Nathanael stood to make room for the other two on the bench. “Some tea, my lady?”

  Ilayda shook her head. “No time for tea. Have…to go back for Arliss.”

  “Go back where?” Elowyn grasped the edge of the stone bench.

  “I don’t know.” Ilayda collapsed on the bench.

  “Where is Arliss?” Elowyn demanded. Something horrid had happened, she could see it in Ilayda’s eyes. Her throat constricted. “She is not with you, is she?”

  Ilayda shook her head. Erik looked grim.

  Kneeling, Nathanael implored Ilayda and Erik. “Where is she? Tell me—I will go after her! I could not bear for something to happen to her.”

  “She and my cousin were captured by a band of dark soldiers who claimed allegiance to one called the Master,” Erik said.

  “Who are you?” Nathanael demanded. “Who is your cousin? And bloody why were you in the forest with the princess and the Lady Ilayda?”

  Ilayda sat tall, her chin tilted back. “Lord Nathanael, please stop accusing him. We’ve already been through that with my father. Arliss may be my best friend, but I am unashamed to say that everything that went wrong in our quest was entirely her fault.”

  Nathanael still looked suspicious. “Your quest? What do you—”

  “Nathanael, let him speak.” Elowyn faced Erik. “Where did this happen?”

  Erik stood. “I am not certain of everything—we were in unexplored territory. Please, my lady, my cousin Philip was captured as well. I will guide you. I know most of the way.”

  Elowyn stood. “You will do nothing of the sort. Both of you are to stay here at the castle and help Adam oversee affairs until we return. But first, you must give us an account of your entire venture.”

  Erik smiled. “I can do even better than that. I can draw you a map.”

  Ilayda also stood, a confused look painted on her face. “You can’t be leaving now, without us and with no knowledge of your way? And how d’you expect us to ‘oversee’ the castle without you here?”

  “We are leaving now, and without you, but not without knowledge of our way.” Elowyn strode toward the back door of the castle tower. “Come, follow me to the council room. I am sure you have much to tell us in such a little time.”

  Erik touched her arm. “Wait, my queen. There is something you need to know.”

  “What?”

  “Just before Arliss and Philip were captured, we found a dying man of Reinhold. His name was Áedán.”

  “Áedán? How is that possible?” She gaped at him. “Then he was alive all this time…”

  “He died even as Arliss was speaking to him. But before he passed, he spoke one name—Thane.”

  Elowyn scrutinized Erik’s eyes, but could find nothing but truth within them.

  How? How could this name—this person—still haunt their lives? She had left half her heart on the Isle when they fled. Yet, somehow, she thought she had also left this name behind forever.

  Nathanael stepped close to her, his face so close to hers that she could feel the heat of his nervous breaths on her cheek. “Sister, you know what this means. We thought we were safe here. We thought we were alone. But after all these years, our old enemy has returned.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: IDENTITIES

  “Who are you?”

  The question jabbed Arliss’s ears for the third time, and this time she wanted to throw the same inquisition back at her questioner: who was he?

  The ebony-haired man, pale as paper, fierce as fire, sitting atop a stony dais in a fortress which looked not unlike a castle. Of course, she knew his name—or had a confident guess; but as to his character, his intentions, she was blind.

  She would tell him nothing. If he knew who she was, he might uncover more secrets. Who knew what could become of the village if such a man attacked it!

  She cast a glance in Philip’s direction, but he was glaring at their questioner. Philip looked like he’d had a rough time of it. His eyes narrowed, lids dark. What looked like a bruise mottled his forehead. What had they done to him? Would he have sense enough to keep his tongue as well?

  Thane set his golden cup down on the ornate side table beside him and folded his hands. “You are becoming quite tiresome, O silent one. Answer my question, please, for I do not have all day to waste on interrogating you.”

  His voice was a smooth as silk and as sharp as poison. A raven-black tunic, belted about his waist, did little to conceal his powerful body. The deep black of the snugly-fitting garment contrasted starkly with the shimmering silver edging around the sleeves and collar.

  Arliss spoke. “I don’t want to share my identity with you, but suffice it to say that if you keep me prisoner much longer, you will regret it.”

  He laughed. “Of course. So you have friends in high places, then?”

  “High places, low places, strange places, normal places. I have many.”

  “And where are your many friends now? They have not come to your aid.”

  She bit her lip and said nothing.

  He turned to Philip with a sneer. “And what about you, sir? Do you have friends in high places as well?”

  Philip’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tense. “Well, she is my friend, and we’re standing upon a pretty tall mound of stone, so I suppose you could say so.”

  Thane stroked his jaw. “You have a witty companion, my lady.”

  She smirked. “Guests who are witty must make up for hosts who are not.”

  He stood. “So this is what you are, a traveling troupe of wits and riddlers? Tell me, did you outwit and riddle the snakes to death as well?”

  Arliss shuddered at the thought of the vile creatures.

  “No, we used a different method,” Philip said. “More along the lines of hacking them in half, shooting arrows through their heads, spilling their guts on the ground, and blasting them with poisonous exploding flowers.”

  Arliss added, “And those are our preferred methods with anything or anyone who apprehends us against our will.”

  “And what do you call the flower which exploded in your fight with the serpents?”

  “It is called Lasairbláth.”

  Thane stepped over toward her, his black boots clamping the smooth stone of the dais until he faced her. His eyes shone with flickering green, in places almost yellow. He studied her until a light of recognition gleamed in his eyes.

  She lowered her gaze. What had he recognized? Her doubt? Her foolishness? Her rebellion?

  “Send everyone else away. Take the young man back to his cell.” His voice echoed off the fortress’s wide stone walls which bracketed the flatness below them.

  Arliss watched the guards depart, dragging Philip with them. He caught her eye before they jerked his head back around.

  Thane sat again. “I
am sorry to stall like this, asking the same question over and over, but I needed to know who you really were and how strong your allegiances may be. Now that we are alone, there is no need for any of that, princess.”

  “What exactly do you mean—wait! Princess? Why do you call me princess?”

  He laughed. “Sit down, O princess of Reinhold. See, I have brought a chair for you, my guest.”

  She refused to sit. “How do you know who I am?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “I know much about you, Arliss, first princess of the realm of the clan of Reinhold. You are the daughter of Kenton and Elowyn, and you are sixteen years old. You shoot a bow often in the forest. You have escaped without your father’s blessing or knowledge. But your fiery speech and recognition of Lasairbláth alone prove you have been well-educated—that you are royal.”

  She scowled. “I know some about you as well—Thane, enemy of Reinhold! You fought my father on the Isle of Light. You were wounded, but escaped. Now, you are inflicting your revenge on me.”

  He released a heavy breath.

  “You may find questioning me harder than you thought.” She tossed her hair back behind her shoulders.

  A wry laugh escaped his lips. “You know nothing of hardship. Of what I have done to your friend, of what I can still do to him.” His eyes burned into hers. “I know who he is as well.”

  “What do you mean, you know who he is?”

  “He is Philip, son of Carraig; yet he is that no more, for Carraig is long dead.”

  She scanned the uneven walls of the stony fortress. What lay beyond the other side of the sheer cliffs? “If you know so much about both of us, why are we being interrogated? Clearly you know everything already.”

  “You are mistaken in that regard. I am not so omniscient as it may seem.” He stood and edged closer to her. She stole a step backwards.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “I shall be frank with you. You are the princess of Reinhold. Thus, you must know something about your father’s army—how many men he has, what sort of weapons, and so on. Give me that information, and I will release you.”