by Bo Burnette
Table of Contents
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
A Princess on a Smooth-hewn Throne
Chapter One: Orlando
Chapter Two: Arliss and Company
Chapter Three: Secrets
Chapter Four: The Dangers of Daydreams
Chapter Five: Playing at War
Chapter Six: The Hidden Burdens
Chapter Seven: A Flash of Burgundy
Chapter Eight: Escape
Chapter Nine: Questions and Answers
Chapter Ten: Opposition
Chapter Eleven: The Parting Glass
Chapter Twelve: Farewell to Reinhold
Chapter Thirteen: The Flag of the Dragon
Chapter Fourteen: The Prisoner
Chapter Fifteen: Ruins of the Past
Chapter Sixteen: A Number of Fights
Chapter Seventeen: The Isle's Secrets
Chapter Eighteen: Deception
Chapter Nineteen: The Captain
Chapter Twenty: Beyond
Chapter Twenty-one: Arrival
Chapter Twenty-two: Into the City
Chapter Twenty-three: The Throne Room
Chapter Twenty-four: Acquainted with Anmór
Chapter Twenty-five: Diverging Paths
Chapter Twenty-six: Assassins
Chapter Twenty-seven: In League
Chapter Twenty-eight: Spies
Chapter Twenty-nine: To Glasberry
Chapter Thirty: Royals
Chapter Thirty-one: Trains
Chapter Thirty-two: The Crown
Chapter Thirty-three: Wrath and Fury
Chapter Thirty-four: Falling Apart
Chapter Thirty-five: Eamon's Clan
Chapter Thirty-six: Reunion
Chapter Thirty-seven: The Shield
Chapter Thirty-eight: The Water's Fall
Chapter Thirty-nine: The Storm Begins
Chapter Forty: Into the Fire
Chapter Forty-one: The Carven Throne
Chapter Forty-two: The Fall of Reinhold
Chapter Forty-three: The Sound of a Sword
Chapter Forty-four: Thane's Bargain
Chapter Forty-five: Reinforcements
Contents
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Dedication
A Princess on a Smooth-hewn Throne
Chapter One: Orlando
Chapter Two: Arliss and Company
Chapter Three: Secrets
Chapter Four: The Dangers of Daydreams
Chapter Five: Playing at War
Chapter Six: The Hidden Burdens
Chapter Seven: A Flash of Burgundy
Chapter Eight: Escape
Chapter Nine: Questions and Answers
Chapter Ten: Opposition
Chapter Eleven: The Parting Glass
Chapter Twelve: Farewell to Reinhold
Chapter Thirteen: The Flag of the Dragon
Chapter Fourteen: The Prisoner
Chapter Fifteen: Ruins of the Past
Chapter Sixteen: A Number of Fights
Chapter Seventeen: The Isle's Secrets
Chapter Eighteen: Deception
Chapter Nineteen: The Captain
Chapter Twenty: Beyond
Chapter Twenty-one: Arrival
Chapter Twenty-two: Into the City
Chapter Twenty-three: The Throne Room
Chapter Twenty-four: Acquainted with Anmór
Chapter Twenty-five: Diverging Paths
Chapter Twenty-six: Assassins
Chapter Twenty-seven: In League
Chapter Twenty-eight: Spies
Chapter Twenty-nine: To Glasberry
Chapter Thirty: Royals
Chapter Thirty-one: Trains
Chapter Thirty-two: The Crown
Chapter Thirty-three: Wrath and Fury
Chapter Thirty-four: Falling Apart
Chapter Thirty-five: Eamon's Clan
Chapter Thirty-six: Reunion
Chapter Thirty-seven: The Shield
Chapter Thirty-eight: The Water's Fall
Chapter Thirty-nine: The Storm Begins
Chapter Forty: Into the Fire
Chapter Forty-one: The Carven Throne
Chapter Forty-two: The Fall of Reinhold
Chapter Forty-three: The Sound of a Sword
Chapter Forty-four: Thane's Bargain
Chapter Forty-five: Reinforcements
Chapter Forty-six: Bearer of the Ring
Chapter Forty-seven: Only the Child of a King
Chapter Forty-eight: Into Legend
Back Matter
Call to Action
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Other Books By...
Other Books By...
Other Books By...
The Reinhold Chronicles
The Realms Beyond
The Reinhold Chronicles
The Realms Beyond
Bo Burnette
The Reinhold Chronicles: The Realms Beyond
Copyright © 2017 Bo Burnette
Published by Tabbystone Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any way—electronic or mechanical—without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Cover design by Damonza.
Arrow logo by Kendall Schlender.
Maps by Kelsey Halverson.
First Edition
Also available in print editions
To Kelley—
who first asked for this book
without even knowing it
A princess on a smooth-hewn throne
Clothed in linen raiment
A queenly look is in her eye
And grace is on her forehead
Chapter One: Orlando
ORLANDO’S BOOTS POUNDED THE HARD STONE OF THE cliffs as he neared the descent to the seashore. Though the cooing of gulls and crash of breakers filled the air, not a single human noise met his ears. All the better if the seaside outpost was deserted: there would be no one to spread any stories of a young burgundy-cloaked spy and his horse. Nonetheless, he still fingered the hilt of one of the twin knives sheathed at his sides.
The lone tower on the cliffs—standing abandoned and only half-built—loomed like a tenuous sentry, trying to discern his intentions. Orlando cast another glance at the tower. Nothing stirred.
He pulled the cloak from around his face. If this place truly held no Reinholdian guards, there would be no use in the disguise any longer. He let the hood of the reddish cloak fall back off his flaxen hair.
No sooner had he done so than the door of the tower creaked open and a gray-bearded man in a navy tunic emerged, puffing quickly towards him.
Orlando jerked the hood back over his head and drew the cloak across the lower half of his face. His horse whinnied slightly at the stranger.
“Ho there, sir!” the man called, still hurrying along. He finally came within five paces of Orlando and his horse. “What’s your business?”
“My business? By that I presume you mean my trade?”
“What I mean is, who are you and what’re you doing here? I’ve not seen your face ‘round the city before. But yes, tell me your trade, if it suits your fancy.”
“My trade is unusual. You could say
I make a living out of danger.” Orlando fingered the right-hand knife beneath his cloak, feeling its polished mother-of-pearl handle.
“That’s not a trade,” the gray-bearded man said. “P’raps you’d like to know that I am a lord of this country and have the authority to have you imprisoned. I am Lord Brédan of Reinhold.”
Orlando had heard enough of the lord’s chitchat. Sweeping his cloak aside, he drew the knife out and held it to Brédan’s throat, pressing the blade almost hard enough to draw blood. With his free hand, he gripped Brédan’s sword arm with a practiced strength and skill.
The lord sputtered, taking his breaths in tiny intervals.
Orlando leaned close, tilting the blade so that the flat pressed against Brédan’s neck. “You may keep your life if you answer one question for me.”
“I suppose I’ll have to hear the question first,” Brédan managed.
“What do you know of the treasures of Reinhold?”
“The…treasures?” The lord’s gray eyes glimmered with confusion. “I don’t rightly know what you mean.”
Orlando gritted his teeth. Why was this blabbering coot so difficult? “If you are truly a lord of Reinhold, you must know something of the treasures.”
“We are not a rich people. What treasure do you think we have?”
“Enough lies,” Orlando demanded. Still Brédan looked unsure. “Speak!”
“If the king knows of any especial treasures, he hasn’t told me.” Brédan gasped as Orlando once again pressed the blade of the knife to his throat.
“You are tedious,” Orlando said, “but I see in your eyes that you are speaking the truth. In return for that, I will not kill you. In fact, I would have you carry a message to your princess. We passed each other not long ago, but it was not an, ah, appropriate time for talking.”
“You have seen Arliss?” Brédan’s incredulity was rising.
“Yes, she was shooting a flaming arrow as I left the city. I’m sure she will be disappointed to find you let me slip through your nets. But you will carry my message.” Orlando lowered his voice to a whisper. “The war in Reinhold has only just begun. Thane has begun his assault, but whether he is successful or not, the battles will not end here. This fight will rage on until we find all the treasures of Reinhold.”
“Who, may I ask, is the ‘we’ in that message?”
“That’s none of your business.” Orlando drew the dagger away and slammed the hilt into Brédan’s temple.
The lord crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Orlando gave his horse’s reins a tug. He had other, more important messages to deliver elsewhere.
He stepped over the motionless body and continued towards the place where the vast cliffs descended into the sand and, finally, into the water. Stuffing the entirety of his cape into his saddlebags, he crunched across the beach and waded into the undulating waters.
Almost as soon as he entered the waves, the ship emerged from the fog, and he pulled his horse forward until the water came nearly to his waist. As he stood there, waiting for the crew to hoist him and his horse up, he cast a long look back at the land of Reinhold.
“Well, princess, it’s farewell to you and your land for now. But we shall meet again. The war in Reinhold has only just begun.”
Chapter Two: Arliss and Company
ARLISS LEAPT OVER A FALLEN TREE TRUNK, NEVER once losing her footing as she continued in pursuit of the fleeing band of warriors. The glimmer of their naked swords flashed twenty paces ahead. The cluster of dark-cloaked soldiers were speeding through the forest.
She gripped her bow tighter, making sure she had nocked the arrow levelly. This particular band of Thane’s leftover warriors had eluded Arliss and company for months. No more.
Philip burst through the trees on her right, his sword pointed upwards. “We’re gaining on them!”
“Barely,” she answered. “Shall we pick up the pace a bit?”
“You’re the princess.” Philip’s knuckles tightened around the hilt of his sword. “Why don’t you lead?”
“You’re my bodyguard. You ought to be first.”
Erik plunged between them, his longbow hooked at his side, his long knife in his hand. “Or you could quit squabbling and let me in the lead.”
At that, he sped off towards the retreating warriors, his long legs pumping. Arliss and Philip tore after him but couldn’t match his speed. Casting a glance behind her, Arliss scanned the wooded path for the other members of their company.
Ilayda, her brown hair gathered into a long braid, panted along behind the others. In either hand, she held curiously shaped knives. Each had a short blade but a wooden handle at least three times the length of the blade. The ends of the handles were notched in the center.
Brallaghan bounded along beside her, clearly holding back to stay with her.
“Ilayda!” Arliss called. “We’ve got them! I could certainly use one of those arrow knives about now!”
Ilayda’s reply was strained and muffled, but Arliss could at least catch a heated “Silly princess!”
Arliss turned back to focus on the pursuit ahead of them. Erik had almost reached the band of warriors, and Philip wasn’t far behind him. She pressed herself on, her lungs burning. She yearned for a truly deep draught of the clear October air.
Just when she felt she could run no longer, she found herself right in the midst of the fray. And so the skirmish began.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Philip engaging one who seemed to be the leader of the band. A carefully engraved helmet marked the band’s leader, but it also concealed his identity.
She suddenly had a fight of her own. One of the six soldiers rushed at her, his double-edged sword lifted high for a cut. She marveled at the lack of chivalry among these men. Without Thane, their leader, they had become a ragged mess of brutish fiends.
The warrior’s stroke never touched her. She released her arrow, and it hit him in the thigh. His blade sliced into the leaf-covered ground as he collapsed.
She didn’t want any deaths this day. The only spoils she wanted were prisoners. Enough blood had already been spilled at the Battle of the Fiery Arrow, only one year past. Still, she approached her downed opponent and wrenched his sword from his fingers.
“I’ll take that.” She swiveled toward the others, sword in one hand, bow in the other.
Brallaghan emerged on the cleared path between the trees, his sword at ready. Breathless and red-cheeked, Ilayda also burst into the midst of the fighting.
But it was over. Erik disarmed his scrawny opponent and toppled him into the ground. Philip and the leader were still fighting, but the other three soldiers saw the futility of fighting these Reinholdian vigilantes. Some snarled, but they all cast their weapons to the ground at Brallaghan’s command.
Arliss, Brallaghan, and Erik surrounded them, quickly knotting their wrists behind their backs. Arliss’s heart shuddered as she felt the thin, almost emaciated wrists of the fellow she was binding. Why did they continue to fight, even without their leader to give them orders? Why did they press on even when they were at the point of starvation?
Philip had disarmed the leader and brought him to his knees. She left the prisoners with Erik and Brallaghan and strode across the leaf-strewn path to join him.
Stabbing his own sword into the ground, Philip reached out and slid the engraved helmet from the warrior’s face. Arliss caught her breath.
“Cahal.”
Indeed, Cahal himself knelt there before him—taller than he had been a year ago, and his face longer and leaner, his eyes more hollow. His features were so hard and bony, they resembled the face of a mountain.
She glared down at him. “Your time of scourging Reinhold is over. It would have been better had you surrendered before now.”
“We could not have surrendered,” Cahal muttered.
“I don’t see why not,” she retorted. “You do realize that, before you and your bands came, there were no dungeons in this land? The
prisons of Reinhold were built because of you.”
“The fault is not mine. It was a choice between imprisonment or death.”
Philip butted in. “We never intended to kill you. Don’t you see that?”
Cahal tilted his head up at them, his sunken eyes raging like a wildfire. “I am not talking about you!”
Philip’s forehead knotted in confusion, but Arliss understood right away.
“So it is as I thought—you are still getting your orders from Thane. Tell me everything.”
“I will tell you nothing,” Cahal growled.
She slipped the end of the bow over Cahal’s head and tugged him closer to her. She dug the bowstring into the back of his neck. “Please, if you would be so kind, do tell me everything.”
He snarled. “What is there to tell? Thane has commanded us to continue fighting, or else he will send his vigilante spy on us. We—I—do not want that to happen, so we keep fighting a useless battle.”
“But where is Thane?”
“Do you think I know? Do you not see that I would leave this accursed land and join him if I knew? Who can say where his newest hideout is located.”
Ilayda stepped away from the other prisoners and addressed Cahal. “You mentioned a spy. Who are you talking about?”
“Thane’s pet,” Cahal hissed. “Some highly-trained fighter named Orlando. He used to show up at the mountain fortress once every few moons.”
“Orlando…” Ilayda whispered, looking thoughtful. Her eyes were scrunched between dark eyebrows and rosy cheeks.
Arliss removed her bow from around Cahal’s neck. “It is said in the Scriptures that men of blood and treachery shall not live out their days. You will remain in the dungeons until the king decides what to do with you.”
She turned and walked away, the floor of brittle leaves crunching beneath her feet.
“If I tell you something valuable, will I receive better treatment?” Cahal ventured.
She halted with her back to him. His weaseling sickened her, but he might know something important. “Perhaps.”
“I suppose you might like to know one of Thane’s greatest secrets—why he built his fortress where he did.”
