The Fiery Arrow

by Bo Burnette

  Then the second figure emerged all the way into the moonlit keep. Elowyn’s muscles clenched. Thane stood between her and her daughter.

  Arliss. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in its usual waving tangle of gold. What appeared to be a tattered chemise was cloaked in a burgundy cape fit for a king and draping to her ankles.

  Elowyn wet her lips. No matter what happened, Arliss would make it out of this fortress alive.

  “Good evening, Elowyn!” Thane called, twirling his sword in his palm. “It’s been a while! Twelve years is a long time to go without seeing such close relatives.”

  She flexed her fingers on the bow. “I cannot say that I have the same pleasure at seeing you again after so long.”

  “You thought me dead—or hoped it, no doubt?”

  “Whatever I thought or hoped, it matters not, since you are clearly not dead.” She scanned Arliss’s face for some sense of worry or agitation, but she saw only surprise and determination. That was well; they would need every bit of her wit and will if they were to get out of this predicament.

  “Where is Kenton?” Thane spoke bluntly.

  “Kenton is his own man. I am not his governess. I am only his queen.”

  “He’s not here, is he?”

  “If he was, do you think we would still be having this conversation? We’d be fighting already.”

  Nathanael leveled his blade. “In my opinion, that might not be a bad thing.”

  Thane ignored him. “Doubtless Kenton would be giving us all one of his long-winded speeches. There’s something I have noticed—of all the things Arliss inherited from her brash father, she didn’t receive that trait. She’s quite the conversationalist, as I have been able to experience on a number of occasions. Right, dear Arliss?”

  Arliss’s middle three fingers clenched as if holding an arrow. “One must make the best use of even the worst of conversation partners.”

  Thane laughed, the sound of it echoing off the sides of the mountain. “See, here it is! A right fine wit she has, eh, Elowyn?”

  “Shut up,” she ordered. “And get away from my daughter.”

  Thane took a step back toward Arliss. Elowyn raised her bow.

  “You would not kill me, Elowyn.”

  “If you continue to stand between me and my daughter, I will not hesitate.”

  “Nor I,” Nathanael butted in.

  “Nathanael, be quiet. Your sister and I are talking, and we did not give you any say in this matter.”

  Thane turned and leapt the distance between himself and Arliss, pinned her arms to her side, and held his blade to her neck.

  Elowyn prepared to shoot.

  Arliss watched her mother and uncle approaching, tense and wary. Farther behind them, Damian and Cahal waited for a command from Thane. Where the rest of the guards were, she didn’t know.

  “Do forgive me for this, Arliss.” Thane’s bearded cheek scraped against hers. “But in order to catch the game, you have to offer the bait.”

  “Release her,” her mother commanded, “or I will stick an arrow in your forehead. I hope you don’t think Arliss received her archery training from Kenton alone.”

  “If you release that arrow, I slit her throat. I think you know how this works, Elowyn, so I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

  Arliss grabbed Thane’s sword arm, then slammed her foot back into his groin.

  His grip on her arms weakened, and she used the leverage to pull his sword arm away from her neck and slip out from under it. Somersaulting out from beneath him, she jumped to her feet and stood between her mother and uncle. Nathanael reached out to grab her shoulder, but Elowyn didn’t flinch. Thane edged closer to Philip’s cell.

  “My brother in arms is behind that door. We must save him.” She looked over her shoulder towards the fortress wall. Cahal and Damian were circling, pacing, blocking their escape through the destroyed portcullis.

  But she needed to retrieve the ancient book. She couldn’t leave it behind. “There’s something important in the chamber across the hall. I must fetch it.”

  “Do it quickly. Nathanael and I will deal with Thane.” Elowyn tugged at the bowstring as Thane—at least ten paces away from them—stepped backwards to fill up the doorway of Philip’s cell.

  “And you must get Philip out of there,” Arliss whispered.

  Elowyn nodded. “We will do what we can. Now go, and get what you need. We will cover for you.”

  Arliss sprinted to the river, leapt over it, and bolted toward the exquisite chamber—ignoring the pain that shot across her ribs. The book would be lying on the bed, right where she left it.

  Cahal split off from Damian’s side and leapt after her. But she had been too quick. By the time he reached the river, she was already rushing inside the colonnade.

  She pushed into the room and grabbed the book off the bed, then scoured the tables and dressers for a bag of some sort. What had Thane done with her own leather satchel? She hadn’t seen it since they’d been captured in the woods.

  She found an aged knapsack of thin, cracked leather, and stuffed the book inside.

  Footsteps smacked the earth just outside the left colonnade of rooms. She narrowed her eyes. She needed a weapon—any weapon, but preferably a bow. In fact, it would have to be a bow. Her blood was coursing too fast right now for her to use anything else.

  The shattered remains of the lamp still lay on the dirt floor. She could use some of the larger shards as makeshift knives. But those could only be used at extremely close range.

  She gripped the knapsack with the book inside. There was nothing in this chamber. Thane’s chambers, though, were probably farther down the hall outside. Surely his room was stocked with weaponry.

  She started for the door just as Cahal burst into the room.

  “You,” she spat. This fellow had played a clear hand in Philip’s torture. Her body burned with the desire for vengeance.

  “Me.” He drew a long knife. “And you are unarmed.”

  She wound the strap of the knapsack around her fingers. “Move out of my way. Now!”

  “No.” He pointed the knife at her. “You should not even be in this room. No one else is even allowed in this chamber. Why should Thane treat you with such favor? You should be in a cell. I should’ve been torturing you with the other prisoner.”

  “Go ahead.” She spurred him on, edging him to charge her.

  He did, knife slashing.

  She ducked out of the way, swinging her knapsack. The book clobbered him in the side of the head. He staggered to the side and fell palms-down in the pile of glass shards.

  His cry of pain echoed in her ears as she rushed out of the room and down the dark hallway.

  A tall warrior—Damian, as Thane had addressed him—rushed from the wall at Elowyn. The world slowed down as she turned her arrow toward him. She watched his every move: the rise and fall of his feet, the tottering of his sword as he closed the distance between them.

  Thane and Nathanael had drawn swords behind her and each waited for each other to make a move.

  Her fingers twitched. There would have to be blood. Thane had ensured that, no matter what happened, it would not finish without the cost of many lives. Still she hesitated as she lifted her bow. If she had the power to prevent it, no blood would be spilled this day.

  But she would get Arliss out of here at any cost. Arliss was the line of Reinhold. She had to survive.

  Her fingers released the arrow almost against her will.

  Damian ducked, and the arrow whizzed an inch above his shoulder.

  Elowyn cantered to the side, sidestepping his momentum. He swept his sword in a wide arc where she had been standing. She slipped off to the side again.

  “I am not wanting to play games,” he said. “If you are compliant, I know Thane will take you alive as a prisoner. He will add you to those for which he demands ransom.”

  “If you want me as a prisoner, come and catch me.” She took to her heels and ran, heading for the fron
tal wall of the fortress. The more she could split up this fight, the better chance Nathanael would have.

  Nathanael and Thane began their fight by the entrance to Philip’s cell. The sound of clanging metal erupted in the mountain fortress behind her.

  She reached the wall and strained for a decent grip on its stones. The gaps between the huge, hewn stones were just thick enough for her to insert her booted toes into. Just as Damian reached her, she hoisted herself higher, and the flat of his blade pressed against cold stone.

  She kept climbing. Why weren’t there more guards? There had to be more. But Thane hadn’t called out reinforcements, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  The wall must have been twenty feet high, and she was panting when she tugged herself over the side of the upper crenels and into the battlements. The walkway spanned the top of the wall and had about five feet in width. From here, she could behold the entire fortress—and fire arrows upon it.

  Besides Nathanael’s duel, the fortress was eerily quiet and empty. The thin river flowed below her, across the fortress and beneath the stony mound at the back. What was beyond that mound—beyond the other side of the mountains? If the legends were true…

  A warrior sprang from the shadows of the far side of the wall, dislodging her bow from her grasp and slamming her to the ground, her cheek sliding against the callous edges of stone. She jutted her foot into his stomach as he grabbed at her. He gasped and doubled over. She had just enough time to retrieve her weapon.

  Her mind raced. She backed up against the edge of the wall. He cut down upon her with his sword, but she ducked beneath him, and his blade and arm slammed down into the nearest crenelation. Elowyn used his momentum against him and shoved, tossing him over the side of the wall.

  Thane roared. The fight had moved to the center of the fortress, with Thane forcing Nathanael away from Philip’s cell. But Thane seemed to have stumbled. He now stood in the river, up to his chest in water.

  Nathanael turned and ran toward Philip’s cell.

  Thane shouted something in a foreign tongue that made Elowyn’s neck bristle.

  She dashed to the center of the battlement, finding the staircase which cut back down to the wide bailey. She rushed down the stairs and into the darkness.

  Once back on ground level—still inside the wall itself—she saw that the only way in or out, besides the river entrance, lay through the doors which sat equidistant from the center of the wall. Because of the staircase and the arched river entryway which lay between them, the doors could only be reached from the side of the stream on which they stood.

  Her hands shook as she unlatched the door on her side of the wall. She burst back out into the wide expanse of the mountain fortress, hurrying toward Thane.

  Thane clawed himself back onto dry ground and strode forward, brushing hair out of his face with a dripping palm. He stood between her and Philip’s cell—between her and Nathanael.

  She nocked at arrow. “Stand down. I will not say it more than once.”

  He glared, but he sheathed his sword. She cocked her head. What was he doing? It was never like Thane to listen—to avoid a fight.

  He inhaled, his huge chest expanding. “It’s too late for me to stand down, Elowyn. Surely you realize this is bigger than that. It’s bigger than you. Bigger than me.”

  She lowered her arrow. “What is?”

  “This place. My purpose. Reinhold could be mine. I believe it should be mine. And I have the aid of forces beyond you.”

  What forces? Everything Erik and Ilayda had said about the snakes pointed to dark magic. Was Thane simply implying his dabbling with sorcery? Or was there something deeper?

  “Reinhold is not yours,” she said. “Reinhold will never be yours.”

  He snorted. “You think you know many things, Elowyn. But even you know nothing of who I am and what I can do. I have the power of legends on my side—ancient power, the power of the heavens, of the moon itself.”

  She tensed. His mind had become very dark indeed. Only the darkest and most twisted of legends worshipped the heavens, or the moon. He didn’t know what he was speaking of.

  Or perhaps he did. And that was somehow more frightening.

  “The moon merely reflects light. It is but a glimpse and a shadow of the true sun. Sometimes the moon is not at all what she seems.”

  Nathanael and Philip burst out of the prison cell. Nathanael had his sword ready, and Philip—though unarmed and unsteady—had clenched fists.

  “You cannot protect them from me, Elowyn.” Thane reached beneath his cloak and pulled a bow and arrow from its folds. “You cannot protect Arliss from me.”

  Arliss squinted down the dim hallway. The dark doorway at the end had to be Thane’s room. She lowered the handle and slipped inside.

  A lamp lit the interior just enough for sight. It left the room dark enough that the cluttered piles of books and papers seemed even more chaotic. Thane had been studying, it seemed.

  She sidestepped a tower of stacked books and ventured into the shadowy corners of the stone-walled room. A richly carved desk spanned the whole right-hand wall. She could hardly see the top of the desk for letters and maps.

  Weapon. She needed a weapon. But this room seemed to be empty of sword, bow, knife, or otherwise. She had expected Thane’s bedroom to be an arsenal. Instead, it seemed like a philosopher’s library.

  A glint of metal on top of the desk flashed in her eyes. She stepped closer and peered at the thing.

  It was a necklace, weighing down a stack of letters written in a fluid script. The thick silver chain was coiled carefully, like a sleeping snake. The large pendant curved in a metallic arc. A crescent, almost.

  Rather like a moon.

  She gathered up the necklace in her hand. Its edge brushed against her palm, and she realized the edge was fine—and sharp. It wasn’t just a necklace.

  It was a knife.

  She gripped the necklace and whirled to leave as Cahal entered the room.

  “You can’t get out now.” He smirked. His hands were scathed with bloody scratches from the glass shards.

  She held the chain and spun the necklace, slinging it through the air toward him. It caught him by surprise just enough for him to jump out of the way.

  That was all she needed. She ran out of the room and down the hallway.

  The change of air from the stale passage to the open bailey filled her lungs with a sort of freedom. But when she looked around, she felt like she was being choked.

  Philip was freed from his cell. But was separated from Nathanael and Elowyn—caught in a battle of wills.

  Next to the river, Thane had an arrow ready.

  Closer to the wall, Elowyn also tensed with her own arrow. She was clearly aiming at Thane.

  But Arliss could read the body of an archer too well for Thane’s eyes to deceive her. He wasn’t aiming for her mother. He was aiming for Philip.

  “Mother!” She waved her arms as she ran toward the river. Surely Elowyn had to realize what Thane was doing.

  Cahal tottered out of the stone hallway behind her. Arliss ran, but she knew she wouldn’t reach them in time.

  Thane released his arrow toward Philip’s heart.

  Elowyn released her arrow toward Thane.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: IF THEY FALL

  The two arrows pinged off each other in midair and whirled back to earth.

  Thane froze for a split second, and that was all the time Arliss needed. She bounded across the river and ran toward Philip, her head pounding from the fierce conflict.

  Thane dropped his bow and rushed at Philip from the other direction, flashing his sword, driving him back toward the cell.

  Halfway between the river and Thane, Nathanael grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back.

  “Go. Follow your mother. Now!” He shoved her toward Elowyn.

  “I’m not leaving without Philip!”

  “Go!” he shouted.

  She held up the burgundy cape and ran to w
here her mother stood beckoning at the left-hand door. Elowyn yanked her through the door and out the other side in one swift motion. Arliss collapsed on the mossy riverbank as her mother reentered the door.

  Arliss squinted into the shadows. Water flowed into ditches along either side of the mountain. How—and why—she couldn’t tell.

  Elowyn hurried back through, helping Nathanael along. His bare left forearm held a nasty gash.

  Arliss leapt to her feet. “Where’s Philip?”

  “If I had tried to get into that cell again, I would have died. Now we must go.”

  Nathanael and Elowyn strode past her toward the fringes of the mountain which jutted out on either side of the outer wall.

  “Come, they’ll be after us in an instant!” Nathanael untied three unusual creatures which Arliss had not yet noticed. She squinted at them in the dimness of the moonlit midnight. She felt she had seen such beasts before, but anger at her mother and uncle burned in her head, clouding her vision.

  “I am not leaving without him,” she hissed.

  Nathanael grasped her and practically forced her to mount one of the curiously noble beasts. “Yes, you are!”

  “Arliss,” her mother said, “your father must be warned. If we try to save Philip, there will be no one to warn him.”

  “You didn’t even try.” Arliss made no attempt to inhibit either the tears or the anger in her voice.

  Voices and swords mingled in the wall behind them. Had Thane summoned more of his men?

  “We’re leaving—now!” Nathanael slapped the rump of Arliss’s mount as he vaulted onto the back of his own steed.

  The beast lunged forward as she grasped at its mane and the leather strap which lay across it and tried to hold on. She jostled up and down as the animal’s hooves pounded the mossy forest floor.

  Elowyn urged her horse into the lead, and Nathanael took up the rear.

  Horse—that was it. Of course, she’d heard of such creatures, though they always existed only in books and drawings and her own imagination. No longer, it seemed. Thane had been right: all the things she thought to be stories and fairytales were becoming more real than she had ever envisioned.