by Bo Burnette
“Always?” She said the word slowly.
His dark eyebrows elevated as he realized his mistake.
“How do you know this ship?”
“I told you, I get around.”
“I realize that, but I want to know exactly how you know him. He has kidnapped my friends, you know.”
“It’s not your business.”
“Tell me.” She shoved at her oars violently, letting a fair bit of water splash towards his face. “I’ll push you overboard.”
He scoffed. “You’re not strong enough.”
She smirked. “Yes, but I have my bow, a dozen arrows, my necklace-knife, your twin knives, and Thane’s sword. You’re outweaponed.”
“I don’t think ‘outweaponed’ is a word.”
“It is now. Tell me who this ship belongs to.”
Orlando’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. “He’s a mystery. A trader of citrus from the isle. I really don’t know much more about him than that.”
Arliss eyed him suspiciously, but she didn’t question his answer. She would find out soon enough how much truth and how many lies were mixed in his response. Their longboat now lay within bowshot of the ship. Both crafts had passed the isle completely, and the pointed landmass began to dwindle away in the distance.
The wind began to breathe again. Arliss urged her oars on, discarding all subtlety. They had to reach the ship before it sped beyond their reach. Orlando sensed her urgency, and he poured strength into his oars as well. Soon they were upon the ship, and they sidled up to the starboard side.
A light flickered on the poop deck, then another, and suddenly the whole ship was alive with lights. Arliss released her oars. Stringing her bow for good measure, she lifted Thane’s sword in its sheath.
“I’m trusting you with this. Don’t use it unless you must.”
“We shouldn’t have to, though we may want to.”
A deep voice echoed from amidships. “Ho there! Who travels these waters so late!”
Arliss cupped her hands to her mouth. “Travelers in search of their missing friends!”
“There are neither travelers nor friends on these oceans,” the lordly voice responded.
“And there are no liars, either,” Arliss retorted.
The ship above her stood silent for a while. Then a ladder of knotted rope dropped over the side, its end landing in Arliss’s lap. She tossed it to Orlando.
“You go first.”
“Not afraid I’ll cut it off halfway up?”
Arliss plucked the string of her bow, which she had strung around her torso. “Not really.”
Orlando pulled himself up the rope ladder with ease, his burgundy cape dripping down like blood. Arliss’s neck tilted back as she watched him climb. When he finally hauled himself over the side far above her, she clenched her teeth and started up the rope.
Pressed against the side of the ship, she could barely see the lights on board. She could, however, sense that someone was helping to hoist her up. After what seemed like too long, she gripped the edge of the ship with fingers sore and calloused from rowing. She blinked as she stepped over and into the light.
Orlando wielded his sword in a blocking position not far from her.
A tall, imposing figure stood in the dead center of the deck.
A mane of chestnut-colored hair streaked with blond fell almost to his shoulders. His eyes—clear and blue as the sea on a September morning—looked somehow familiar to her, like someone from a dream. Draped across his shoulder and around his waist hung a patterned red tunic that left one of his broad shoulders bare. Even through the loose-fitting garment, it was easy to see the sheer power of the man’s body.
His neck tensed as he addressed her. “Who are you, and why are you traveling with this rogue?”
She made a point of drawing an arrow out of her quiver. “I am in search of four missing friends. Please, may I know who you are?”
“I am known on this ship as the Captain.”
Chapter Twenty: Beyond
“WHERE ARE MY FRIENDS?” ARLISS DEMANDED. HER EYES were still fixed on the mysterious captain as he stood firmly in the middle of the deck.
“What friends?” The man’s voice was level.
Was he teasing her—testing her—or did he really not have them? If he hadn’t captured them, that could mean only one thing. She shivered in the midnight wind, wishing she had a cloak. Even from what she had seen thus far, she hoped her friends were in this captain’s custody and not enjoying Thane’s hospitality. Anything would be preferable to that.
She altered her tone. “Where are my friends? You know where they are—I can see it in your eyes.” This was not entirely true, as his eyes betrayed no emotion whatsoever at her words. She didn’t care. She needed answers.
“Your friends are safe, if that is what you are asking.”
She released her pent-up breath. So they were on this ship, after all.
Orlando stepped forward with an insincere smile, his hand relaxing on his sword pommel. “Conas ata tú?”
The captain maintained his cold stare. “I am well. You can use the Ikarran tongue. You have no enemies on this ship.”
The corners of Orlando’s eyes creased. “Nach bhfuil siad mo chairde.”
“Stop it and speak like a free man.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “Why are you toting about her friends as captives?”
“I found them trespassing my trade locations. They were in need of medicine and aid.”
“Which I was doing a fine job of providing.”
Arliss couldn’t suppress the sharp laugh that burst from her lips. Orlando shot her a fierce glare.
The captain’s stare passed between them several times, then he seemed to make a decision. He snapped his fingers. “Fiach! Finín! Bring up the other prisoners—except the wounded fellow.”
Two young men who appeared to be around Arliss’s age catapulted off the forecastle and tramped quickly belowdecks. They reappeared a moment later, prodding her friends—Philip looking weary, Ilayda distraught, and Erik irritated.
Arliss snapped. She rushed across the deck—practically knocking the captain over—and threw her arms around Philip. “You’re alive…you’re alive.”
Philip’s eyes opened wide as a quiver’s mouth. “Yes, it seems so. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She stepped back, regaining control of her tingling limbs. “You don’t understand. Thane is here. He’s on the isle even as we speak. He almost captured me.”
“Well, thank God he didn’t.”
His gaze made her uncomfortable. Deep, penetrating. Like he was trying to see what she still felt for him.
She stepped away. “How’s Brallaghan?”
The undersides of Ilayda’s eyes were dark, and her usually cheery face looked almost haggard. Then she spoke, and Arliss’s heart broke to hear the pain—the sudden maturity—which tainted her words. “He’s not well.”
Arliss gripped Ilayda to herself, letting her friend’s head rest on her shoulder. Ilayda gasped out a sob as Arliss stroked her velvety hair.
“It’s all right. He will be all right.”
Ilayda stepped back, wiping her eyes.
Arliss fished in her jerkin for the notebook. “I found this on the beach. I suppose you dropped it.”
Ilayda accepted the book, a smile gleaming through her tears. “Thank you.”
The captain tramped into their midst, breaking up the reunion. His placid stare had been replaced with a look of genuine concern. “You are enemies of Thane?”
Philip snorted. “That’s an understatement.”
Orlando’s lips contorted with amusement. “I wouldn’t call Thane my enemy. In fact, I wonder that you would even ask me that.”
The captain pointed a finger at Orlando. “You, quiet. Thane may listen to your nonsense, but I don’t have time for it. Right now, I’m talking to my other prisoners.”
Arliss stood stiff, her back still to the captain. She covertly unfastened her neck
lace—the moon, the knife—and hid it in a pocket. Such fine jewelry might betray her royal identity.
She turned. “Prisoners? What right have you to hold us as prisoners?”
“Every right. You were trespassing on lands which I harvest for trade. Furthermore, if you really want to stay clear of Thane, you would do well to do as I say.” His face flickered with light and shadow from the ship’s many lanterns.
Arliss’s mouth dropped open. “You think you have some claim to the Isle of Light? That land belongs to the clan of Reinhold!”
The moment she said it, she instantly regretted it. Philip cast her a biting glare. The captain stopped short, his eyes widening.
“The clan of Reinhold?” He squinted. “What claim can they have—a lost and forgotten people?”
Arliss deliberated on her next words. “What makes you think they are lost and forgotten?”
“Because they have vanished. The supposed location of their escape was destroyed by a volcano. Whatever remained of Reinhold burned many years ago.”
She bit her lip. Should she reveal herself? From the way this captain talked, her royalty wouldn’t mean much to him. She didn’t have to deliberate long. Orlando made the choice for her.
He stepped between them, gripping the folds of his cloak. “Eamon, don’t you know who this company is, or where they come from? I do.”
At last she learned this captain’s name. Ay mun. A strong, smooth name. She liked the sound of it.
Folding his arms, Eamon towered over Orlando. “I think I know who they are. But in case I am wrong, perhaps you could tell me.”
Orlando smirked. “What if I don’t feel like it?”
With a serpent’s speed, Eamon nabbed Orlando by the neck and lifted him until his feet dangled above the ground. Orlando flailed his arms, his face turning crimson. He tried for his weapon, but Eamon grabbed his sword arm.
“I’ve had enough of your sneakery to last a lifetime. Tell me what you know.”
Arliss stood shocked, but she didn’t feel much obligation to help Orlando at this point.
Orlando strained for breath. “All…right. Put me down.”
Eamon released his hold, and Orlando plopped back onto the deck with a grunt. He shook himself. “If only I had my knives. Unfortunately, those Reinholdian curs stole them from me.” He jerked his elbow towards Arliss. “Do you know who she is, Eamon? She is their leader—the princess. Allow me to introduce Princess Arliss of Reinhold, archer and explorer of the realm.” He tossed his cape aside in a flourish.
Eamon gaped. “A princess of Reinhold! It cannot be.”
Arliss shrugged. “And yet, it is.”
Eamon’s neck bulged. “Fiach, Finín, take all the prisoners belowdecks.” His eyes met Arliss’s, and she tilted her head. “But leave the princess.”
The two young men—Fiach and Finín—looked so like Eamon they couldn’t have been anything but his sons. They began escorting the others below.
Eamon clapped his hands and addressed a gray-bearded man who stood by the mast. “Prepare tea in the state room. Presuming you are up for tea, Princess Arliss.”
She smiled. The last time a mysterious warrior invited her to tea had proved most informative. “Tea would be lovely.”
“I am not a man of many words, and I dislike skirting around the point.” Eamon pulled it out for Arliss at the round table. “That’s why I wanted to speak to you immediately and privately.”
She sunk into the rich cushion of the chair and let out a deep sigh. It was as if the day’s stresses had finally caught up with her and were dragging her spirits to the floor. She hadn’t rested much at all, and a lone citrus was the only thing she’d eaten since breakfast early that morning.
She sat a bit straighter. She couldn’t let her mind wander like this. She had to be alert. This was a strange ship with a strange captain headed toward who-knew-where.
Eamon slid into the chair opposite Arliss, waving his hand toward the gilded china tea set on the table. “Please, join me.”
“Thank you.” Arliss inhaled as she reached for the teapot. The tea was hot and rich and smooth—just the thing to warm one up on a November evening.
Eamon cleared his throat. “It seems both of us are having our worlds shaken up a good bit.”
She nodded. “I had no idea that Thane was on the Isle of Light. Nor did I know that there was anyone around here like you.” She took a sip of tea and let its heat trickle down her throat. “However, I don’t see how your world is being shaken up simply by my presence.”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking. “I did not know the clan of Reinhold still existed, much less that it had an exploring princess. It changes a lot of things that I have long assumed—things that many people have long assumed.”
Arliss let out a heavy breath. “So we are not alone in this world, after all.”
“Hm?”
“I mean, Reinhold is only a very little land on a much larger map. We aren’t the only ones.”
He chuckled, but there was no joy in it. “You thought you were the only people in these realms? I’m afraid there are a lot of things you will find startling, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She stared at the polished surface of the table as she tried to fully grasp the truth. “So where are you taking us?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“I can’t trust you if you can’t trust me.”
He shifted a tray of square biscuits towards her. “I offered you tea, did I not? Surely you can trust me on that alone.”
She caught the hint of a smile that teased Eamon’s mouth. She offered no smile back. “Who are you?”
“I am the captain of this ship.”
“That doesn’t tell me who you really are. I am a passenger on this ship. Still, that tells you nothing about my identity.”
“Thanks to your friend Orlando, I know that your name is Arliss and you are a princess.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “Surely you know enough about the world to know that, in order to ask who someone else is, you must first offer your own identity. Your own story.”
“I believe my ‘friend’ Orlando already offered it.” Arliss clunked her teacup firmly down on the saucer. “And let’s just say I have been through some things that make me hesitant to reveal my story.”
“In that case, let us also say the same thing about me. For now, you will call me Captain Eamon.”
“I may drop the ‘captain’ if I prefer.”
“It makes no difference to me.” He blew on his tea, then took a long gulp. “Arliss, I have to know what you really know, or we can’t have an honest conversation. Tell me everything you know about our realms, and hold nothing back.”
Arliss hesitated. If her father were here, what would he reveal? And how would her mother phrase things—telling only what she had to, with words full of hidden meaning?
She tilted her waning teacup back and forth. “I only know what I have read in books of legends.”
“Books of legend, or history?”
“Lately, I haven’t been able to tell the difference.”
He nodded. “Does this have anything to do with Thane?”
She slowly dipped her head.
“I figured as much. He is a meddler and a warmonger.”
“He’s worse than you know.” She finished her tea. “If you think he’s so bad, though, why don’t you stop him?”
“Because I cannot. It would ruin me.”
“But why?” she pressed.
Eamon let out an exasperated sigh. “Arliss, our conversation skirts around the point, with neither of us wanting to tell all we know. I cannot go on like this. You have to do as I ask. Tell me everything you know about the realms, about the clans, and hold nothing back. Even if you think something is only a story, tell it anyway. I need to know. In return, perhaps I can clear up some of your questions.”
Arliss closed her eyes, thinking back to every book she had ever read from th
e castle library. Opening her eyes, she poured herself another cup of tea.
Then she began her tale.
Chapter Twenty-one: Arrival
LONG AGO, OUR PEOPLE DWELT IN A DIFFERENT realm, tucked away in some far corner of God’s earth. This land was called Eire; it was rich and beautiful and home to many clans. Sometimes these clans warred with each other for territory or even for control over the other clans, but usually they had peace.
For the most part, the outside world ignored the land of Eire, although they occasionally had visitors. Some were great men of God, who brought the truth of the good news—the words of Jesus Christ—to the clans that clustered across the island nation. They accepted it, since this magnificent creator-God fit into all their questions, joys, and sorrows. The life they loved now had explanation and a meaning.
But the joyous times were not to last, nor was peace permanent. Other kingdoms and bigger peoples envied the green land of Eire and wanted to own it for themselves. For many years, the island must have sunk several feet from the pounding boots of invaders.
Some clans were driven from their lands, some stayed and fought, but others submitted readily. And some would take none of those paths; they wished only to escape from the ceaseless invasions and squabbles between clans. So three of the clans formed a secret coalition, preparing ships, supplies, and livestock for their ocean voyage. The largest of the clans was that of Anmór, the military arm of the mission. Almost as large was the clan of Ikarra, who were the planners and writers of the escapade. Smallest of the three, but brave and true of heart, was the clan of Reinhold.
Arliss stopped her tale, wondering where to go next. She had read of the difficult ocean crossing and of the clans settling in these lands, but all the books in the castle library had been written generations ago, even before the Reinholdians took refuge on the Isle of Light.
She looked up at Eamon and shook her head. “That’s all I know. I’m not even certain how my people came to be on the isle. We were there since before my parents were born.”
Eamon seemed almost dumbfounded. “And you consider everything you just said to be half-legend?”
