by Bo Burnette
“Why did you leave the isle?” she asked.
He took a few steps up the hill. “Because I was like you. I knew our history was real, and not a myth. I knew the treasures of Reinhold were more than mere trinkets. And I had an insatiable wanderlust—a need to explore.”
“But you abandoned your family.”
“Aye, I did. But my family was wasting away. The plague killed my young wife, and my mother. My father was aging. And both he and Kenton had come to despise me. Only your mother still showed me kindness.”
“Perhaps she foresaw some of this.”
“Maybe.” Eamon seemed dubious. “Still, I could not sit and stagnate on the isle. That was not the life I was meant to live. So I took my young twin sons and left on a ship I built mostly with my own hands. Galcobhar was the first friend I found in Anmór.”
“How could you not come back to your family?”
Eamon quickened his pace, his boots crunching through the fresh snow. “I did come back, when I heard about Thane’s arrival in Anmór and I got wind of his quest. That was over ten years ago, though. All I found was ash and destruction.”
“We had all fled…” Arliss’s voice faded away. They were nearing the city, and guards stood at attention by the near entrance. Gates had been built on this side of the city since her departure—thick wooden posts with curling iron beams.
“I thought you were all dead. I never dreamed the truth. And no one in the realms ever dreamed that these wild lands could be tamed by settlers.”
The two gate guards stood at attention, the edges of their red tunics flapping as they bowed and saluted. “Welcome home, Princess Arliss!”
She acknowledged them with a slight bow of her head. “Any news?”
One of the guards fingered the embroidered gold R on his tunic. “The castle is uneasy. They’ve ordered more troops to guard this city, but they are strengthening the castle defenses as well.”
“Do you know why?”
He shook his head. “There are rumors it has do to with the queen and one of her premonitions. Any news from you?”
The reality of what she had experienced over the last week-and-a-half crashed over Arliss like the waves that broke on the shore beneath her. Orlando—the gifts—Anmór—it was all so ridiculously impossible. The pages of history and myth had torn themselves from books and formed into reality.
And she laughed. Arliss dropped the tension in her shoulders and laughed, louder and heartier than she had in quite some time.
When she was done, she realized two things. First, Eamon and the guards were staring at her quizzically. Second, Philip, Fiach, Finín, Ríon, and Clare had all returned to see what the fuss was.
“Pardon me.” Arliss took a deep breath. “Any news, you ask? It’s more than I can divulge right now. I need horses for all my company to get to the castle as quickly as possible.”
The guards bobbed. “Right away. How many horses?”
Arliss glanced around at the company. “That makes seven.”
“Wait,” Eamon said. “Perhaps some of us should stay here. If Thane is coming, the city needs to be warned and made ready.”
Ríon stepped forward. “You’re right. Clare and I can stay here and make the city ready.”
Arliss bit her lower lip. “What if Thane attacks soon?”
“He won’t.” Ríon spoke confidently. “He will ready himself on the isle. Perhaps he’s even waiting for reinforcements. And he probably thinks we’re all dead, and thus not much of a threat.”
Philip shifted his left shoulder. “What about when he searches the wreck and doesn’t find any bodies?”
Clare looked grim. “We’d better hurry either way.”
Arliss turned to the guard. “Five horses, then. Ríon and Clare will stay and help your company.”
Both guardsmen nodded and bobbled off to fetch the horses.
Eamon pressed a calloused hand on Arliss’s shoulder. “Perhaps I should not come with you right away.”
“Whyever not?”
“It’s been sixteen years since I saw your father. He was angry at me then. He hated me for leaving. Perhaps now isn’t the best time to add one more world-shaking revelation to his shoulders.”
“You’re coming with me.” Arliss pulled Eamon towards the approaching horses. “You don’t know him. He’s wiser. He’s changed, even in the past few years. He will forgive you.”
“I hope you are right.”
Arliss swung into the saddle, her booted toes finding the stirrups. “When have I ever not been right?”
Chapter Thirty-six: Reunion
THE LAST RED FINGERS OF THE SUNSET SLIT through the open windows of the great hall and made bloody shadows on the far wall. Elowyn shifted in her throne of smooth stone, the back of her dark hair absorbing the colorful fingers of dying light. The mellow sound of a fiddle carried up from somewhere in the village, and its flowing notes brought Elowyn’s eyelids slowly shut in a sleepless rest.
How she loved this city…this castle…this hall. Amidst a world that seemed burning with danger and a land that was wild at every turn, this place was safe. It was a haven. It was home. No matter what the swirling winds and spattering snows forewarned, she felt secure between the massive stones of the castle.
The doors of the hall rasped open. Arden, Lord Adam’s younger son, poked his head through the doors. “My lady?”
“Yes, Arden?” She rose from the throne. She had specifically placed him on watch for any change or news, so his coming had to signify something important.
“My lady, Arliss has returned.”
“She has?” Elowyn swept up her skirts and hurried towards the doors. “It is soon for her return, is it not?”
“Apparently she has a lot to tell you. I sent someone to fetch the king from The Bronze Lion. Arliss and her company will be here to speak with you at any moment.”
“Will you please send tea for us? Enough for all the others, as well—I know Brallaghan always wants his tea nice and hot.”
Arden’s face darkened. “My queen, prepare yourself. None of it’s what you think.”
A deep dread filled Elowyn’s soul as Arden turned away and let the doors clank shut. Arliss had returned, and that was well. But something was amiss. Had they met with trouble on the isle? Had Thane shown himself? Perhaps not all the company had returned.
The doors crunched open again, and Elowyn had no more time to contemplate. The company—or what was left of it, it seemed—filed into the room. Arliss was in the lead. Fresh snow crystals melted in her golden hair, giving it a shimmering, golden appearance. She had clearly put on a cheerful visage, but her eyes betrayed her. Angst filled their blue centers to bursting.
Philip, his left arm in a crude sling, ambled in behind her. He nodded a greeting, but Elowyn’s eyes had already flashed to the open doorway.
Two young men who seemed somehow familiar and yet entirely foreign stepped in and bowed at the waist. She felt she had seen them before: the scruffy hair, the silver eyes, the proud disposition. Then the last member of the troop booted into the great hall, and she nearly fell to her knees.
“It cannot be…” Her voice faded away into the wind that flushed through the open doors and windows. Time slowed down then disappeared altogether. She passed a hand over her eyes, thinking it must be some trick of the light.
It was no trick. Eamon himself stood before her.
His demeanor collapsed, and he stumbled towards her. “Elowyn…”
“Eamon,” she breathed. “How? You were dead. You are dead.”
He managed a smile. “I am not dead anymore, it seems.”
She reached out to touch his rough leather jerkin, the ratted linen tunic. Her chest heaved, unable to breathe in the impossibility.
“It’s been sixteen years.” She gulped back tears. “Sixteen years! Do you not know the pain you caused us? Kenton has wept for you so many nights—and not only him. You were a brother to me as well.”
Eamon shuddered. �
�Forgive me. Or perhaps not. I do not deserve it. At least accept me.”
Her shoulders collapsed, and she leaned towards him. “How could we do anything else? You are family. We are your clan.” She wrapped her arms around him, unable to span his broad back.
Arliss led Philip to one of the hewn thrones. “Philip’s shoulder is injured, mother. He needs medicine and rest. But there is so much—”
The doors to the hall slammed open, crashing against the stone walls so hard Elowyn thought the wood would crack. Kenton pounded in, his blue eyes flamed beneath bristling eyebrows.
“It cannot be true!” he heaved, his eyes flitting across the company gathered in the room.
Eamon turned from Elowyn and squared his shoulders. “It is.”
Kenton stopped and gaped at his brother. “A ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“I am no ghost.” Eamon stepped closer. “I am your brother.”
Kenton stopped a few paces away, clenching his fists. “My brother is dead.”
“He has come back to you from the dead.”
Kenton fell headlong into Eamon’s arms. The two wrapped each other in an embrace. The room melted away around Elowyn as she watched the reunion. She hadn’t even dared dream this day would come.
Finally Eamon stepped back. “I am sorry I strayed. But it has turned out for the better, in some regard. Without me, Arliss’s quest might have ended differently.”
Elowyn looked to Arliss for elaboration.
Arliss’s eyes were hard. “It’s true. There is so much I must tell you.”
Elowyn nodded. “Nothing we can’t discuss over a cup of tea.”
Arliss shook her head. “There’s no need for tea. Our world has changed.”
The blood vessels in Elowyn’s ears pounded as she stared. If Arliss, of all people, had no time for tea, something was wrong indeed. “What do you mean?”
Arliss fell into her throne. “There is too much to tell. I might as well tell it all at once.” She glanced up with a smirk. “Perhaps you ought to sit down.”
Elowyn sat on her throne, but the rest—besides Philip—remained standing.
“Thane’s new hideout is on the Isle of Light. He attacked us on the way there, and we captured his assassin Orlando. Then Thane stole our ship and seized Lord Brédan and all the crew besides my few close friends. Orlando deceived me and led me to Thane’s haunt. I escaped, though, yet both Orlando and I were then kidnapped by a mysterious trading captain.” She nodded upwards. “Eamon. He took us across the sea.”
Elowyn tightened her fingers around the smooth stone. “What was across the sea?”
“Anmór. Alive and well and bigger than in any of the books. Thane is in league with their queen, Merna. He is even now leading a force that has been sent to destroy Reinhold and take over what remains.”
Elowyn stared, her pulse rushing.
Kenton scowled. “Impossible.”
Arliss shook her head. “No, it’s not impossible. And that isn’t the worst of it. We found the crown and sword of Reinhold, but the other gifts remain missing. Worst of all, Thane captured Ilayda and Brallaghan. I sent Erik after them, but he did not return. I am afraid he has been captured as well.”
The silence hung for many moments as the dust settled in each person’s mind where walls had just been torn down.
Elowyn rose from her throne. “We must ready for war.”
“You are sure of this?” Kenton’s brow wrinkled. “It seems unfathomable. We must be sure.”
“There is no time,” Elowyn insisted. “And there is nothing else to do. There is not even time to fathom it all. We must act quickly—quicker than Thane.”
Eamon offered Arliss a hand and lifted her from her throne. “We don’t know much. How defensible is this city?”
“We can make the defenses around this city secure and set spies—especially in the north, where he might try to land in secret,” Kenton said. “Beyond that, I have no plans.”
Arliss shifted on her feet. “I have some plans.”
Philip finally spoke. “You always do, don’t you?”
Arliss nodded sharply. “Aye. And this one involves parleying, the prince of Anmór, and a certain waterfall vault.”
Exhaustion sagged Arliss’s shoulders as she paced through the doors of the great hall and onto the wide plateau which overlooked the entire village. The sun had sunk almost all the way into the horizon, and lanterns and torches now flickered like stars throughout the village. The snowfall had relaxed into an inconstant mist.
Her body told her it was time to rest, just like everyone else in the village. She’d had nothing to eat since early that morning on Eamon’s ship, and her stomach now wrung itself out like a wet rag. But her mind insisted she had to do something.
Do something, she told herself. Ignore the hunger. Focus. Rally the guards. Prepare an assault. Send for help.
Eamon and her parents exited the hall behind her. She exhaled deeply as Eamon laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“You need to rest. We all need to rest. Do you hear me?”
She closed her eyes, the residue of the village lights burning holes in the back of her eyelids. “I cannot rest. Not while Thane is this close to Reinhold, and not while my friends are captive.”
“You cannot do anything about that right now.”
Elowyn swished around Arliss, blocking her view of the city. “Eamon is right. We must all rest. Tomorrow will be a new day to make plans.”
Kenton stamped forward, pacing along the edge of the overlook. “What plans? We have few options.”
Eamon shrugged. “We have no ships. Otherwise, we could meet him at the isle, or in between, and make a sea battle of it. Beyond that, all we can do is fortify this village and Cladach and hope Thane is up for a parley.”
“You both speak of parleying,” Kenton said. “What could cause Thane to delay an attack?”
A blend of fatigue, chill, and curiosity prickled Arliss’s neck beneath her snow-slicked hair. “The gifts of Reinhold. Thane wants them and might do anything to get them. Some of them have inherent power, apparently. He mentioned a mysterious pendant and a vial in particular. But I suspect the other gifts are imbued with some ancient mystery as well.”
“So you think Thane will parley with us if we have the gifts?”
Arliss pulled her cloak to shield herself against the cold. “I can only hope so.”
Voices of laughter and dying strains of music trickled up from the tiers below as the villagers left The Bronze Lion and headed for home. Arliss stood and absorbed the collective silence of the four atop the hill.
Elowyn spoke first. “All of us, to bed. Tomorrow will be another day. This day is dying.” She took Kenton’s arm and urged him towards the castle.
The king nodded and hooked an arm around Eamon’s shoulder. “For the first night in sixteen years, I will sleep knowing my brother is safe—and under my roof.”
Arliss smiled as they walked away. She waited a moment beneath the glimmering stars and dusting snow. Yes, tomorrow would be another day. But how many more days would they have? If Thane attacked, how long could this city stand? Would he truly parley for the gifts? And would Ilayda and Brallaghan live long enough to be ransomed?
She had no answers. One after another, she threw the questions at God, but he said nothing in return. Why did God not answer her—now, when she needed answers most?
Then she felt a prick deep in her heart. Go, a voice whispered. I have given you answers in the one who loves you.
She strode to find Philip.
Philip leaned his head on the plush back of the king’s reading chair as he tried to absorb Arliss’s questions. She had spit them out one after the other without waiting for any responses. Perhaps she already guessed the truth: he didn’t have any answers, either.
The library smelled like tea and old paper and dried flowers. A few candles flickered in sconces and sticks around the room. He grunted and shifted the tilt of his arm where Elowyn
had commanded him to leave it—perfectly still, perfectly straight. Eamon had doused it in herbs that he said would ease the pain.
Arliss added one more question: “Is there anything we can do that would truly help?”
He reached over for his cup and downed a gulp of tea. “Of course there is. I like the plan you hinted at earlier.”
“It’s outlandish.” She shook her head. “It depends on too many unstable things.”
“Anything we do will be unstable at this point. That doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”
“So you think we should send to Ríon and Clare?”
Philip nodded.
“And you think some of us should leave to open the waterfall vault?”
He nodded again. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”
“And what about parleying with Thane? That bit of the plan may be the hardest.”
“Have faith, Arliss. God will make it clear.”
Arliss stared at him. “No matter what happens, I’m beginning to realize what I have to do. I have to kill Thane.”
“You can’t. I’m afraid no one can.”
She stepped closer to his chair. “I know I can. Did you not hear what Gally said, what my own mother has said? That only the child of a king can kill Thane!”
“That’s only a suspicion, a superstition.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Surely you know my mother well enough to know that what she says is never mere superstition.”
Phillip shoved his chin onto his good hand. “I know, I know. Still, Ríon seems set on killing Thane himself.”
“Perhaps he will. Perhaps both of us will. But however this ends, it will end with this battle. Perhaps Thane will succeed. Perhaps he will conquer Reinhold and slaughter us all. Perhaps the rivers will run with blood. All I know is that this will be an end—of one sort or another.”
She paused a moment, her eyes glancing from his face to his wounded arm. Something flickered in her face, and for a moment he thought she would come closer—hug him, even kiss him. But she did not. She nodded her farewell and strode out into the hall.
