The Fiery Arrow

by Bo Burnette

  “No. I dare not do that. But I have to admit that no cousin should treat their relation as I have treated you.”

  She gripped the stem of her wine goblet, her own knuckles going white. “Why is that relevant, pray tell?”

  He let his hand drop into his lap, and something like a groan escaped his lips. “Is that also among the many things your parents never told you? Don’t you understand? My father was your grandfather’s brother. We are cousins—or second cousins by generation, as they say in some books.”

  Arliss’s mouth dropped open. She released the goblet for fear she would knock it over with her trembling hands. She and Thane were cousins? It could not be. Her parents would have told her. Then again, why would they resurrect the name of one they presumed dead?

  “Why did you not tell me this before?”

  He sighed. “I assumed that if you knew my name, you must have known everything else. I did not know how ignorant you were—rather, how ignorant your parents had made you.”

  “But that means you are our family! You ought to be guarding the royal castle, not scheming in this hole.”

  “It means, Arliss, that I ought to be heir to the throne of Reinhold.”

  Indignant fire burned in her chest. “You are nothing of the sort.”

  “Why do you say that, pray tell?” Thane stressed the final words, clearly mocking her.

  She set her jaw and glared at him. “I am the heir. I am the daughter of Kenton, the king, the direct heir descended in a line from Reinhold himself, a line which has never been broken. And it never will be. My mother told me the line of Reinhold always endures. I believe her words.”

  “Your mother is a fool!” He spat out the words. “She fueled Kenton’s mistrust of me. Their marriage only solidified our enmity.”

  “My mother is no fool!” Arliss pounded the table with her fist. “She is wise, wiser than any man or woman in Reinhold.”

  He laughed scornfully. “So Elowyn continues to play at being a seer and a prophetess? She always was a mystic—and a fool.”

  “She is neither a mystic nor a fool. She is simply a very wise queen.”

  “Your mother claims to see the future.” Thane smirked, twisting an olive between two fingers before popping it in his mouth. “I doubt she has seen what is coming upon her and her city. Which brings me to another of my many reasons for inviting you to dine with me. Let us plan our revenge together.”

  “Our revenge?”

  “Yes, of course. We both have a score to settle with Kenton, do we not?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Why else would you run away? Why else would you be in the woods with a peasant carpenter’s apprentice? And you forget that I knew Kenton for many years. I know how his mind runs in circles upon itself. And I know how he can so easily drive others away with his stubbornness. You and I are both stubborn as well. We have that in common. Do not think you are the only one who has been driven away by Kenton’s single-mindedness.”

  “I will not tolerate this sort of talk about my father!”

  “So you’re defending him now, eh?”

  “Well, I am his heir, after all.” She swigged the wine and erupted into coughing. She continued to wheeze as Thane exploded with laughter.

  As her chest slowly calmed its heaving, she glared at him. “It isn’t really that funny.”

  He continued chuckling. “Arliss, the pitcher of water is there for a reason. This wine is meant to be mixed with water before being consumed.”

  “The water pitcher is almost empty, if you hadn’t noticed. Perhaps you could send for your servant Cahal to fetch us some more.”

  “I do not subscribe to Kenton’s elitism. There are no servants in this fortress, only comrades with varying levels of skill and authority.” His face became grave once again. “You may be trying to defend your heirship and your life, but do not forget it was you, O Arliss, who fired the first shot in this war. You had the first kill.”

  She cleared her throat, lifting her chin. “No, it was you. This war began the moment Áedán died.”

  He held her gaze, not answering.

  She searched his eyes. What did he want? He was a Reinholdian—her cousin—but he had been gone for so long (only God knew where) and he had changed. How long had he hidden here—and why did he choose to make his move now?

  Then she swallowed the truth that rose in her throat. It was because of her. By going on her quest, she must have triggered his realization. Unless, of course, she had walked straight into a plan already in motion.

  He placed his eating utensils on the plate. “Have you eaten well?”

  Arliss glanced at the full platters on the table. “I have eaten enough, I suppose.”

  “Then shall we go down to Orl—to your chamber for some tea? I have ordered it to be prepared for us after the meal.”

  She stiffened. “Why in my chambers? Why not up here?”

  “Because in your room you can properly answer my questions. You can draw me maps of your city. You can tell me the truth about your father.”

  Yes—and she could free herself and Philip. The pit in her stomach deepened. “Yes, let’s. I’m certainly not hungry for food any longer.”

  Arliss sat upon the bed, sipping slowly on a sweetly spiced tea and fingering her side. The lower ribs still throbbed with soreness, and climbing the steps to the stony mound for dinner hadn’t done them much good.

  A few steps away, Thane paced, sipping his own tea and examining a map Arliss had drawn of the city. She swallowed. Hopefully he wouldn’t pick up all the details she had intentionally left off. At least, not yet.

  While his back was turned, she slipped to the chest of drawers and lifted up the dusty fiddle. She positioned it under her chin and plucked the strings almost silently to check the tuning.

  Thane spoke. “So, you say there are hardly more than a score of able knights in the city? What about bowmen? Surely all—”

  She filled the room with gentle, flowing music and drowned out his voice. He stopped talking and pivoted to face her.

  With a practiced skill, she pulled the bow across and through the strings and began to recreate the melody Philip had been singing in the woods. The melody which accompanied the poem. The poem which accompanied the prophecy. She began to sing the words as she played the song a second time, her voice blending with the high clarity of the fiddle’s notes.

  “A princess on a carven throne,” she began. “Clothed in simple raiment.”

  “A queenly look is in her eye,” Thane intoned, surprising her. “And grace is on her forehead.” Then he continued, singing the second verse. “A princess on a smooth-hewn throne, clothed in linen raiment—a queenly look is in her eye, and grace is on her forehead.”

  Together they finished the song. “A princess on a gilded throne, clothed in silken raiment—a queenly look is in her eye, and grace is on her forehead.”

  She let the bow slip silently from the string and held his stare.

  “We have not had music in this fortress for a long time.” His eyes burned with sorrow.

  “Why then do you have this fiddle?”

  “It belonged to one of my men.”

  “And what happened to him, if it is not too forward of me to ask?”

  Thane sighed. “He is on another mission, perhaps far away, perhaps not.”

  “You speak as if he were like a son to you.”

  “He is rather like a son—or perhaps more like an apprentice. I am quite fond of him.”

  “And you wish for him to return?”

  “With my whole heart.”

  “Perhaps now you will also let me return. My father, too, will be expecting me. I have told you everything I know of his army, and the maps I have drawn ought to more than describe the city. Can you not now release me and Philip?”

  Thane clenched his eyes shut. “I cannot.”

  Her heart pounded as she set the fiddle back down. “But you swore you would!”

  His bro
ad shoulders creaking as he stretched them, Thane stepped closer to her. “Perhaps I did. But I also made another oath, to your father, twelve years ago on the Isle of Light. You were there, do you not remember?”

  “I was but four years old. My memory of the Isle is hazy.”

  “I swore to him that I would take the blood of his house. I have sworn an oath, in my own blood, that I will destroy the house of Reinhold.” His voice trembled barely above a whisper. “That is why I cannot release you. Either I kill you, or I wait for your father to come, and I kill him.”

  “You will not kill him.”

  “Then would you rather me kill you?”

  “No!” she shouted, then tempered her tone. “No, I would not rather you kill me. I am the heir to the throne.”

  He released an angry yell and swept his hand in an arc in front of his body. Arliss ducked, and he bashed one of the four curved glass lamps. Its pieces shattered onto the floor, and the room’s flickering light grew dimmer. “You are not the heir! You are a woman—how could you be the heir?”

  “How does that make a difference?”

  “Kings want sons to carry on their lines, not daughters.”

  “I don’t see why either is preferable. A prince still needs a princess to produce heirs.” Her heart fluttered in her chest. “And a princess still needs a prince.”

  His fists clenched. “You will never be the heir. I will crush you until you are alone, beyond alone.”

  “No one is alone.”

  “Of course.” His voice stung bitterly. “No one, except the boundless numbers of those who are terribly, indubitably alone. I was alone until I gathered my army, built my fortress. And you, Arliss, will be alone when I have finished. You will be alone when I have killed your father, your mother, your uncles, your friend Philip. You will wander the wilderness, lonely and alone, because there is none, no one, not a single person on this earth who can quench your grief.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. “What about my faith?”

  He snorted. “You think God will keep you from this lonely fate?”

  “I do not know what the future holds. I know he has allowed my captivity for a purpose. But no matter what happens, I will not let you destroy Philip. Nor my father.”

  “What power do you have to stop me?”

  “Love. My love is stronger than your hate.” She quivered. “I’m not afraid of you. The love in my heart—the love of God—casts out fear.”

  “Hah! Your love. Arliss, you are sixteen, barely a woman. He is barely a man. Perhaps in time things shall change, and you shall then see that what you mistook for love was only childish emotion.”

  “It will never come to that,” Arliss insisted.

  “And your love for your father? Indeed! What great love you have shown him! You, the daughter who rebels and runs away and gets herself captured and drags others down with her! You know nothing of love.”

  She stared at the ground. Maybe Thane was right. She had been foolish—too careless to make plans or to think of her own father. And she had trampled over all of her friends this whole time. Now, because of her rashness, she and Philip were permanent prisoners.

  But she was doing this for a reason greater than herself. It had gotten lost somewhere along the way, trampled down in the depths of her mind. Lines cut between the people of Reinhold. She meant to erase them. Yet by leaving, by forsaking her father, by dragging her friends down, she had drawn more lines.

  She looked up at Thane. “Perhaps I was blind in what I did. But I think I can see more clearly now. If only you could also understand.”

  “There is nothing to understand, only this—I will destroy the line of Reinhold battle by battle, and you will watch your city burn.”

  She closed her eyes, at first seeing nothing but the reddish glow within her eyelids. Then it transformed into a vision of her city: the three tiers burning, the castle tower collapsing, the moat filled with wreckage and debris. She shuddered at the vision as it burned in her mind.

  No. She could never let that happen. The city was her home—the very foundation of Reinhold itself. Someday she would even rule the city herself—when she felt ready. And when she was ready, she would need a king to rule with her—someone as close or closer than a brother.

  She glanced up into Thane’s face, her eyes pleading.

  “Even if you will not release us, allow me to see him. Let me go to Philip.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: THE PRICE OF LIBERATION

  The night was dark in the roofless canopy of sky which spanned the top of the mountain fortress. As Arliss hurried across, pulling the burgundy cloak about her shoulders, she glimpsed one lone, shining star among the clouds. The clouds had gathered in a multitude. The air smelled of rain.

  Thane did nothing to restrain her as she hurried across to the row of half-wood, half-stone buildings and galleries built into the side of the mountain. No one had told her which door was his, but the instinct of friendship guided her. She came to Philip’s cell room and opened it with surety, not trying any others.

  He looked up, clearly stifling a groan as he forced a small smile. “Arliss.”

  She dropped to her knees in front of him. He’d been bound with ropes which hung from planks on the ceiling—some of which seemed to be broken. Blood streaked his forearms and forehead, and his chest shuddered as he exhaled. She looked away, too ashamed even to weep. “Do not forgive me. I cannot ask you to do that.”

  “What is there to forgive? You haven’t done any of this.”

  “I brought you here, Philip. If only I had left you in the village. If only I had gone alone, or not at all.”

  “You mean, if only you had obeyed your father?”

  She glowered at him, but did not argue.

  “Maybe you should have obeyed him, and maybe you shouldn’t have dragged me into this adventure.” He licked a cut at the corner of his mouth and grimaced. “But why think about that now? The past is behind you. Your destiny is ahead of you. And, while you cannot change your mistakes, you can mend them. You can make things right.”

  Her laugh sounded like a sob. “You think my father will let me fix things, even after all I’ve done?”

  “He will have no choice. Yes, you’re the one who started this mess. But all that means is that you’re the best one to fix it.”

  “People often fix mistakes which they themselves didn’t make.”

  “This is not one of those times.” He tugged at the ropes that restrained him. “So tell me, princess, what are you going to change when you return to the city?”

  Tossing her hair behind her shoulders, she crouched on the dirt floor beside him. “I don’t know.”

  Thane’s voice resounded outside the door. “Hurry up, Arliss. We still have things to discuss. The sun has long set. Your time is expiring.”

  She leapt to her feet. “I have to go. Thane may have promised to release us once I spoke with him, but now it seems he will not keep his promise.”

  “Does that really surprise you?”

  “Yes.” Arliss sighed. “He is more than you think.”

  The blue flecks in Philip’s eyes turned to steel. “I understand that now more than you know. He is the one who killed my father.”

  “No.” She didn’t want to believe it. But she could see the truth in Philip’s eyes.

  “It is true. And now, if he can, he will kill me as well. But as long as I am bait for you, he will spare my life, no matter how much he tortures me. I hope you’ve put together why he built his fortress in this place.”

  “I must admit I don’t really know.”

  “He’s found it,” Philip whispered so low she had to strain to hear. “He’s found the heart of Reinhold—the oasis which all the old books spoke of. The only thing keeping it hidden is this fortress.”

  “Arliss!” Thane’s tone verged upon anger.

  She reached for Philip’s bound hand and gripped it. “I promise you this: I will do whatever I can to get you out of here.”
/>
  “And promise me something else. You will not forget the bow I was making before we left the city, and you will not forget your promise to make things right.” Philip smiled. “Perhaps—”

  Thane bellowed for Arliss again, his voice fiery. Then, Damian’s voice exploded from the battlements of the fortress wall, a warning frantically shouted in their strange tongue. A massive crashing sound, as of wood splintering and cracking, rumbled from the entrance to the fortress.

  Arliss glanced worriedly at Philip, who nodded back at her. She was free to leave him.

  Outside the cell, Thane’s attention had been completely distracted. “What is it, Damian?”

  “Ionróiri!” Damian shouted.

  “What did he say?” Arliss asked.

  Thane’s fingers slipped to his sword hilt. “Invaders.”

  Arliss then saw what had produced the cracking sound. The wooden portcullis, which overhung the river as it passed beneath the wall, had been destroyed and its beams now floated down the slow stream. Two figures emerged from outside of the wall, drenched from their waists down. One brandished a long sword, and the other had an arrow on string even as she carried three more shafts in her draw hand.

  Arliss’s heart leapt into her throat with a shock of joy.

  Queen Elowyn and Lord Nathanael had come to liberate them.

  Elowyn took in the fortress—the high mountain walls, the long buildings which ran down the sides and attached to the front wall, the thin river which flowed like syrup towards the high stone platform—even as the rich scent of alder trees and mountain air filled her nose.

  Nathanael leapt out of the river and onto the fortress’s flat inner bailey. She followed him, drawing back the arrow of her bow even as her feet found dry land.

  Two people rushed out of the colonnade of rooms built into the rock on the right. Torches hung in brackets at intervals around the clearing, casting grim light on the figures. The first—a tall, muscled man who was just drawing a long, curved sword—Elowyn recognized at once. Twelve years hadn’t changed him much, unless it was that his shoulders were broader and his forehead more crisscrossed with lines.