The Fiery Arrow

by Bo Burnette

  “Make ready your weapons!” Arliss commanded.

  As if at her command, Erik came hurrying down towards the gates, a bundle of arrows in his hand. “For you, Arliss.”

  Such a true friend to think of her! How could she be worthy of him—of any of them? She restocked her empty quiver. Then she turned to Erik and Ilayda.

  “I feel it is almost wrong to ask this of you, after all the misfortune and chaos I’ve caused you both.” She paused, giving a hesitant glance at Erik’s bound forearm. “But I will ask it nonetheless. Will you also follow me to aid Philip and the king?”

  Erik nodded. “You are my princess. My duty and my bow are ever yours.”

  A playful smirk twisted the corner of Ilayda’s mouth. “Silly princess that you are, I think I’ll join you. As it’s said, ‘a threefold cord is hard to break’.”

  Arliss clasped each of her friends’ shoulders—one a lifelong companion, the other a new comrade—and felt that she was the luckiest princess of any realm in history. Of course, Erik would say there was no such thing as luck. And he was probably right.

  Brallaghan appeared beside them, gripping a long pole from which streamed a long, purple flag with an ornate “R” embroidered in its center. Behind him, the rest of the guards had assembled. Three of them held the reins of the three horses that Arliss, Nathanael, and Elowyn had ridden back to the city. Arliss mounted her ginger mare with an almost-practiced ease.

  Erik swung a leg over his mount as Brallaghan hesitated with the reins of the other.

  “May I?”

  Arliss shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

  Brallaghan bounded onto the horse with grace, offering a hand to Ilayda. Her eyebrows curving suspiciously, she accepted and mounted behind him.

  “Raise the flag,” Arliss said.

  Brallaghan lifted the pole into the air and it caught in the autumn wind, flickering out in a long stream.

  Arliss reared her horse and shouted with every particle of air in her lungs, “For Reinhold!” Her horse whinnied and leapt across the moat, not slowing down once its hoofs clambered on the other side.

  Erik, Brallaghan, and Ilayda took off after her, and all the guards rushed across the narrow board with fiery passion, all taking up the cry of “For Reinhold!”

  Standing atop the tall castle tower, Elowyn beheld her daughter rallying the troops and taking off across the field. The gingery-brown mare, the flaming red dress, and the pure gold of Arliss’s hair mixed together in a wild flash of color.

  Elowyn exhaled. If only Kenton could see Arliss now, he would see the young woman she had become—that she was becoming. She had truly taken up the mantle as princess and leader of her people.

  But more than that, she took up that role out of love and honor to the king. Elowyn didn’t need to have been on the lowest tier to understand her daughter’s words and thoughts. Arliss rode for the king.

  Her eyes closed, Elowyn drank in the thickness of the air. And she prayed that, if it lay within God’s will, all those of Reinhold would return safely home.

  CHAPTER THIRTY: THE MOUNTAIN RIVER

  Kenton’s boots pounded the forest floor as swiftly as his throbbing heart. In the distance, he thought he heard the splashing of water, so he urged on his weary legs and straining lungs. Just a few more paces, and he would be upon them.

  Finally he reached a place where the trees started to thin. The splashing noise grew ever louder—the army of warriors fled downstream in boats, with Thane himself at their head.

  Heaving to recover the air he had lost in the run, Kenton studied the path of the boat in the rear of the entourage. If he balanced his weight right—

  A hand clamped down on his shoulder. He reached behind him, grabbing the outstretched forearm and slipping his other arm around his assailant’s torso to flip him to the ground.

  “Easy, now, Kenton,” Nathanael whispered.

  Kenton released him and motioned toward the river. “Come. Follow me and do as I do.”

  He darted out of the trees and cast himself into the middle of the wide river, landing squarely in the aft of the last boat. The boat lurched. He stumbled against ropes and paddles as the boat’s two passengers drew their blades. Drawing his own, Kenton brandished it, playing the offensive as he urged the two warriors backwards.

  One of them, a young fellow not much older than Arliss, his eyes wide with fear, leapt into the boat ahead of theirs. Both boats wobbled, and Kenton and his other opponent stumbled to their knees, grabbing the sides of the small watercraft for support.

  Coughing, Kenton’s foe took a hasty step backwards, once again pushing the boat off-kilter. In his haste to rebalance the boat, Kenton dropped his sword. The coughing warrior snatched it up and pointed both swords towards Kenton.

  “The king of Reinhold!” he hissed. “What a price Master Thane will give to me, I am sure. Do you have any final words?”

  Any movement Kenton made would set the boat off balance, and he would be dead just the same. The coughing warrior brandished the two blades even closer. Could this truly be his end?

  Suddenly an arrow whizzed by his ear, just missing him. But it was not intended for him. The point found its mark in his opponent’s breast. Sputtering a last cough, the warrior collapsed over the side of the boat and into the river. Kenton’s sword clattered in the bottom of the boat. He glanced in the direction from which the arrow had come.

  Arliss stood with Nathanael by the edge of the riverbank.

  The arrow had hardly struck Damian when Arliss snatched the reins of her gingery horse from her uncle. “Go, get in the boat. I have this taken care of.”

  Nathanael nodded and ran downriver to join the king.

  Two more horses bounded out of the trees to join her just as she remounted her own. Ilayda held Brallaghan’s waist as he struggled to rein his black charger to a halt. The horse whinnied, fighting its inexperienced rider. Arliss chuckled as both Ilayda and Brallaghan nearly toppled from their seats.

  “What news, princess?” Brallaghan managed.

  “Father and Uncle Nathanael have commandeered one of Thane’s boats. They may reach the fortress before we do.”

  Erik urged his horse closer to the others. He rode as if he’d done it all his life. “The rest of the guard are far behind. They’ll never make it in time. Plus, they’ll have to cross the river, and you know that will take some time. The snakes might not be worth such a steep risk. Do you have any more Lasairbláth?”

  “Very little, but here, take it. Anyway, how are the guards going to catch up?”

  “They won’t.” Ilayda’s face was grim. Was she worrying about her father?

  “There is a way…” Erik’s brow knotted as he thought. “I could ride back and forth—transporting one at a time farther along.”

  “That would waste too much time.” Arliss groaned in frustration. “We have little enough as it is.”

  “It’s the only way. Leave it to me. You three go on ahead.” Erik let the slack out of the reins. “Arliss, you have to trust me.”

  “I do trust you. Now go!”

  Erik turned his stallion around and galloped after the guards.

  Arliss also turned her horse about. “We follow the river. It should lead us straight to Thane’s fortress.”

  Brallaghan faltered. “Then what will we do? I mean, do you have some sort of plan to take this Thane fellow down?”

  “Not exactly, but it’s coming to me piece by piece. I know we must take down his fortress, but I don’t know how. But there is someone who will know, I think.”

  “Whom?”

  “My brother.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: SACRIFICE

  The ginger mare quickly outpaced the steed carrying Brallaghan and Ilayda, and Arliss soon found herself surrounded by nature: trees on one side, the river on the other. She pressed the horse on in every way she could, unsure of what signals and touches were customary. The mare minded not, forgiving her new rider of her inexperience. As for Arliss, he
r thoughts went only to those parts of her heart where her father and Philip lay, making the tightness in her chest even heavier.

  She arrived at the fortress—the mountains jutting up on either side, and the wall spanning the width of the mountains. Here the river, of course, flowed beneath the wall. The host of boats now lay in lines alongside the shore.

  She’d wondered before why the river slowed to a thin stream in the fortress. The reason now seemed quite simple: the wall itself acted as a dam, inhibiting the river’s flow and diverting it into long ditches on either side. If the wall had not spanned the mountain pass as it did, the wide bailey of Thane’s fortress would be at least half full of water.

  Tying the reins of her mare to a tree, Arliss dismounted and crept out of the woods. A lone guard paraded atop the battlements, guarding the open entryway where the portcullis once existed. Striding silently as a wood-maiden, Arliss reached the right-hand mountain, careful not to step in the ditch of redirected river water. She set an arrow to her bow and took careful aim at the unsuspecting guard.

  Her arrow pierced his shoulder—just as she had intended. No more death than was necessary would be dealt this day. His pained cries erupted from the battlements. Thane could probably hear them as well.

  It didn’t matter. Every princess deserved a ready welcome. Gritting her teeth, she jumped into the front boat and pushed it forwards, and she steadied herself as the boat floated under the wall and into Thane’s mountain castle.

  “Welcome, cousin Arliss! We were expecting you’d arrive shortly.” Thane’s voice boomed towards her before her eyes adjusted as the boat floated out from the dark tunnel and into the afternoon light which flooded the mountain clearing. The sun’s beams flashed erratically from behind threatening clouds. One of Reinhold’s signature showers couldn’t be too far off.

  Clenching the bow in her left hand, she leapt from the watercraft and pulled together every inch of her height and her will. “I have come to bargain for the land of Reinhold.”

  The laugh which erupted from Thane’s throat was almost as threatening as it was annoying. She stiffened, unwilling to give up her resolve to this mocking infidel. Thane motioned for the warriors to step aside, and he did the same.

  Arliss froze.

  Two warriors, struggling to hold down their prey, gripped Kenton’s arms, holding him still even as he struggled. Two other warriors restrained Nathanael.

  Her father saw her and stopped struggling. “Arliss…”

  “Father.” Her voice barely came over a whisper. She had to rescue them, and Philip, too. Yet what could she do—alone, against so many? Even a fiery arrow would do her little good now.

  Two men gripped her arms and hurled her bow to the ground. Their calloused hands bit into her skin. Did it really take two apiece to hold down the royal family?

  She glared at Thane, shaking her hair behind her shoulders. “If you release my father, my uncle, and Philip, I will withdraw my army. We can then parley sensibly and decide what must be done to have peace.”

  He rubbed the scar on his jaw. “There is no peace, no bargain I will accept. Anywise, what army have you to challenge me? You are alone.”

  “My army will come, and then you will want to parley.”

  He drew his curved sword and pointed it at her. “No—then, we will have war. But first, I will fulfill my oath for Reinholdian blood.” His navy cloak flapped as he turned on his heel and faced her father’s restrainers. “I will have my revenge.”

  Seeing the upraised sword, the determined glint in his eyes, she realized what was about to happen. “No, Thane, you can’t do this.”

  Thane issued an order to those holding her. “Hold her down. She can watch him die.”

  Her father’s head remained upraised, his eyes fiery.

  She pulled at her captors, her heart pounding unrelentingly. Nothing she could say would prevent Thane from fulfilling this mad oath. The flickering sun, now almost smothered in storm clouds, caught the polished flat of Thane’s blade. It flashed in her eyes.

  Thane set the edge of his sword upon Kenton’s neck.

  She swallowed as a strange peace came over her heart. She lifted her head. “Take my life instead.”

  “Your life? You would sacrifice yourself for this wretch?”

  “No—he’s not a wretch!” Her voice commanded his attention, and he turned to face her as she spoke. “He is my king, and he is my father. You want Reinholdian blood? You want to end our line? Kill me! But promise me that you will release the other three, and you will spare their lives.”

  Thane turned his blade towards her as he strode forwards, the tip of the sword just a pace away from her forehead. “I wanted to make you suffer, watch you driven mad with grief and pain.”

  “Why?” She gritted her teeth. “Is this not enough?”

  “You are right. The line of Reinhold is broken. Is that not suffering enough, for you to die with that cruel knowledge?”

  Her father strained against the warriors. “No! Arliss, you cannot do this!”

  Another warrior moved to help restrain him.

  Thane edged towards her until he stood beside her. He put his lips next to the side of her head. His breath tickled her ear as he whispered to her. “I will release all of them. You have my word. Now you shall die. Your mother is not here to save you this time. There is no one to save you. I am the master of this realm.”

  “You are not the master.” Arliss refused to look at him. “I know the true Master, and I serve Him. My life is in His hands, not yours.”

  Thane raised the sword and bared her neck of her hair. Strands slipped down beside her bent head, covering her cheeks as she closed her eyes, a silent prayer escaping her open lips. What would it feel like to die?

  Her eyelids fluttered open. The sword arced toward her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: THE ARMIES ARE UNLEASHED

  Philip thrust his sword beneath Thane’s, barely missing Arliss’s golden head. Using both hands on the pommel, he shouldered every bit of his strength up into his sword. It halted Thane’s curved blade just one foot short of Arliss’s neck. There they struggled for a long moment in a battle of strength and will for the life of the princess.

  One of the warriors restraining her swatted at him, trying to dislodge his fierce grip on his sword. They couldn’t break it. Not when Arliss’s life depended upon it. She was his princess.

  This realization pumped new strength into his aching muscles. He forced their swords up and batted Thane’s blade down to his other side. It stuck into the dirt, lodged about a foot deep above the tip.

  The warriors restraining Arliss released her and drew swords. Yelling, Philip swept his sword around and clobbered it into one of the opposing blades. Metal hissed. The blade spun from the warrior’s grasp.

  Two explosive thrusts, and both warriors lay dead on the ground.

  Philip had freed Nathanael on his mad dash to rescue Arliss. Now Nathanael rushed at Kenton’s captors, sword slashing.

  Thane struggled to pull his sword from where it had been planted. By the time he readied his cutlass, Philip stood between him and Arliss, his sword pointing up, his forearms knotted both with muscle and the ropes which had bound him.

  “You will not touch her again, snake!” Philip spat his words at Thane.

  Thane’s look darted toward the dais.

  Philip readied his sword. If Thane made it to the dais, he could control everything in the mountain clearing.

  Thane glared at him and Arliss, then fled towards the stony dais, his deep blue cape flowing behind him.

  Philip started to pursue Thane, but Arliss held him back. “No—don’t. We must spare his life if we can.”

  “Arliss, he just tried to kill you!”

  She sighed, seeing the dark rings under his confident eyes, the coarse stubble which peppered his chin. “Yes, I know. But he is my cousin, and I would be ashamed to kill one of my own kin. Whenever such things happen in ancient stories, it’s always because the killer
has been cursed, or knows not who they are killing. I don’t wish to be in either place.”

  “Very well.” Philip’s voice was almost a growl.

  Ilayda burst through the open waterway, with Brallaghan behind her.

  “Arliss! Philip!” she shouted.

  Her joyous cries were cut short. Thane stood atop the stony dais, a shining steel breastplate now beneath his cloak.

  “Let my warriors come forth!” he shouted. “Lig do na nathracha teacht amach!” The last command sounded so cruel and devilish that Arliss shuddered. What might nathracha be?

  The warriors holding her father cast him to the ground. One of them remained to fight him, while the other charged at Arliss and Philip, a bloodcurdling scream bursting from his throat.

  Thane’s warriors, with Cahal at their lead, emerged from the side of the mountain in which Arliss had been kept in that beautiful bedchamber. All of them carried swords, and some wore faces streaked with blue paint as on that first day in the woods when Arliss’s company had first encountered them. One of the blue-faced warriors dashed to a small door in the right-hand wall.

  Thane again called “Nathracha!” A dozen creatures spurted from the hole—long, wriggling, limbless things. Arliss realized with a sickening shiver what nathracha were.

  They were snakes.

  Arliss readied an arrow. It would take every one of her shafts to down all of these creatures.

  Her chamber! The tiny Lasairbláth she had planted had been budding the day Elowyn and Nathanael rescued her. Surely there was enough to fend off these horrid creatures.

  She gripped Philip’s arm. “There’s Lasairbláth in a chamber on the left. We have to get it.”

  “Arliss, come over here!” Brallaghan called behind them.

  She looked to her father. Kenton had downed his man and now rushed towards Thane’s platform, his boots pounding the dirt.

  Philip’s eyes were fixed on Thane’s stony dais, surrounded by warriors. “I have to help the king. Cover for me however you can, and do what you must with the Lasairbláth. Or stay and help the others. Whatever is most necessary.”