When Twins War: Book I

by Ryan Peter

Three rainswept weeks went by before the Outlanders and Foré dragoon finally arrived in the vicinity of the village of Raud. The escalating tension between the two parties resulted in heavy hearts and less enthusiasm from all, except Altana who seemed incredibly determined to reach the villages.

  After the feud on the road Altana became increasingly scornful toward the Outlanders and Tarkaynon, in particular. That same day Altana led his men into a small farm and demanded from the family there to provide them food and shelter for the night. Tarkanyon insisted that it was not fair to make these demands, but Altana claimed his rights to do so. As it was, Altana did have the rights to do so by Foré law, which said that the army should be housed and provided food and shelter if they ask for it. Tarkanyon was of the opinion that Altana did not ask for it, he demanded it,0 but this was seen as sheer arrogance on his part. After all, he was told, this was “not his country” and the Outlanders had “no right” to insist their ways were practised in Foré.

  Altana also insisted that his men were not to take any orders from the Outlanders. In fact, he kept reminding them, they were under Foré’s guard, not the other way around.

  As Tarkanyon expected, Altana and his men were not very approving of camping in any wood for quite some time and the rest of their journey had been on either more farms or in inns. Otherwise they would camp at the roadside or in an open area away from any forest of any kind. But this unspoken rule was broken once they arrived close to Raud, which was about mid-afternoon. That evening, considerably cooler than the nights before (as they were closer to the Great Mountains now) Altana sent out two scouts to spy out the village. Poiternium, who was on watch, woke up Tarkanyon and reported that he had seen the two scouts leave the forest. Tarkanyon sent out Merexia and Turrik (who was particularly good at spying) to investigate the scouts and the village as well. This they did and reported back to him only two hours later.

  “All seems very quiet and peaceful,” Turrik rasped to Tarkanyon, looking at him enigmatically under the hood of his cloak. Merexia agreed, adding, “The scouts have only done as ordered. They did not do much more than only spy.”

  “Very well,” Tarkanyon replied. “We shall wait for the morning and see Altana's next move. Keep a sharp eye.”

  The coolness of the night dropped to colder temperatures as first light approached. The morning began to reveal the extraordinary snow-capped peaks of the Great Mountains, which seemed to be more grand and exquisite in the rising light. From these blew in a fresher breeze. The forest trailed out into a small valley which contained the village before them, still dark and sleeping.

  Tarkanyon had been up most of the night, with an eye on Altana, who eventually approached him while everyone was getting ready.

  “I am well aware of your watching us,” he said.

  “Cheerful in the morning, I see,” Tarkanyon said.

  Altana frowned. “We march now to the village. Your choice is either to march with us, or observe from here.”

  “We haven’t established exactly what the grievances here are. Why are you marching against them? If they are at peace, as our scouts say, perhaps things have settled.”

  “These villages have defected,” Altana replied. “They are hostile and without excuse. They must submit to our king. These were our orders.”

  “Perhaps it would be better if we proceed first, before you arrive,” Tarkanyon said. “We are neutral here. This may escalate beyond reason as soon as they see your dragoon.”

  “Is it your country or mine?” Altana snapped. “It is mine. We are to march in and take the village. It belongs to us. It belongs to our king.”

  “We came to help to make peace!” Tarkanyon said. “Because your king asked us to! We are here to assist you. Therefore, let us go in first. The northern villages have long wanted independence from Foré... they are a very different people.”

  Altana shook his head. “Foré has many cultures and different people. But it has long been in unity.” He breathed in deeply. “We will not rely on treaties and politics, Tarkanyon, such methods have fallen even amongst the Twin Cities. Even their covenant was not strong enough to hold them. War grows by the day! It is good for us to take what is rightfully ours.”

  “Yes, and we will not have war here,” said Tarkanyon. “There has been unity and peace in our lands precisely because of talks and politics, not because of the strength of iron and fear!”

  “Our king rules the largest country in all Lexedore! By continuing his reign, we ensure we are well defended against our enemies – you do not live in fear every day of the ominous return of Hircoi, Tarkanyon!”

  “On the contrary! We are the very people who watch for the return of the Moncoin and will stand against him if he returns.”

  “With what army?” laughed Altana. “Do you think your precious friends Dernium will stand against him? No, they will use us as a shield, as they always have, while their aristocracy grows more corrupt by the day!”

  Tarkanyon stared at Altana and slowly began to reach for his bo. Chrisolian had been watching the argument and drew near. He cleared his throat loudly. Tarkanyon looked at him. Chrisolian simply nodded and looked at Altana. At once Tarkanyon composed himself.

  “We know of the problems between Dernium and yourself, Altana,” he said. “Such is one of the reasons we encouraged them to send aid to the cities to help stop the war between the Twins.”

  “Spy out our land!” said Altana. “And be ready to take us too, when the time comes!”

  Tarkanyon shook his head this time. “We don't have time for this. And I suspect these are not the real issues here. Nor are these your real reasons for invading this village either, Altana.”

  Altana stood still, eyes narrowing. He looked at Chrisolian who was rubbing his beard.

  “I serve my king wholeheartedly,” Altana answered at last.

  “Then let us do what your king has asked us to do here. If he saw no need for us to be here, he would not have sent us.”

  “He trusts us.”

  “And us!”

  Altana cussed and turned on his heel, walking away briskly. When he was far enough Tarkanyon let off a sigh.

  “Thank you, Chrisolian, I was about to lose my temper.”

  “Yes, I could see that,” Chrisolian smiled. “I actually think that’s exactly what he’s trying to get you to do.”

  “Very possibly,” Tarkanyon said. “Please send for Turrik.”

  While Chrisolian did so, Tarkanyon instructed Drius and the rest of the Outlanders to stay with the Foré army.

  “Only three of us will go in,” he said. “This will ensure it is not seen as an invasion. We must make haste, as I fear Altana will cause more bloodshed than is needed here today.”

  Within no time he, Turrik and Chrisolian were on their horses and galloping into the village, Altana giving Tarkanyon a threatening look as they galloped past. They quickly advanced down the valley and crossed over a small stream.

  “We must make enough noise to wake the village, but not too much to alarm them,” Tarkanyon instructed as they rode. “Altana must not have the element of surprise should he decide to attack. We must get as much information as we can to ensure that Altana is legally obliged to stand back — if the villages are at peace, Altana has no lawful reason to invade and if he does then we have lawful reason to desist him!”

  The others agreed. As they entered the village (which had no walls or gates) an old man shouted out to them from a very low wooden tower on their right. He was holding a bow with a knocked arrow, shaking somewhat from the strain.

  “Halt! Who goes there?” he mumbled cautiously.

  Tarkanyon lifted his right hand, signalling to the others to stop. They obeyed immediately. “We are Outlanders! We must speak with your village council at once!”

  “Now where you be from, eh?” asked the old man, still threatening with his bow.

  Tarkanyon squinted at him. “From... the Monument,” he said.

  “There be bein
g no monument here,” was the answer.

  “Quiet Edric, these are Outlanders,” came a squeaky little voice. A short, plump, balding man came from behind the wooden tower. Tarkanyon almost laughed looking at him as his voice didn’t suit his body at all.

  “Don't look it to me,” said the old man, threatening again with his bow. “They are no big enough.”

  “Well, they are,” answered the plump man, looking at the older man.

  “That one with the hood... I don't be liking the looks of him,” said the old man, speaking of Turrik and pointing his arrow in his direction. “Any man who show no face is not a man I be liking the looks of.”

  “He is with Outlanders, he must be an Outlander,” said the plump man.

  “Spotted horse?” the old man replied. “Now, what kind of Outlander ride a spotted horse?”

  Tarkanyon patted Polin on the neck. “Never mind them,” he said and looked at the two men, still conversing amongst themselves about the Outlanders. He cleared his throat.

  “Uh... begging your excuse, uh, pardon I mean,” spoke the plump man. “We be seeing no many, uh, we don't see many Outlanders out here.”

  “We seeing no Outlanders straight,” added the old man, still looking at them suspiciously.

  “We come to bring peace,” Tarkanyon said. “We received news that there was an uprising in your village?”

  The plump man looked at the older man in the tower. “Uprising? Since when?”

  “Not for long time,” answered the old man, lowering his bow. He was breathing heavily and the bow didn’t look very light.

  “Well, there were being, uh, there was a king’s man who came here a few weeks ago,” said the plump man.

  “Yes, I remember those,” answered the old man.

  “What happened?” Tarkanyon asked.

  “We no have the right taxes. We tell him to come back some other time.”

  “Yes,” answered the plump man.

  “Someone came to gather taxes?” Tarkanyon asked. “And you sent him away?”

  After a short pause the old man lifted his bow again and threatened them, saying “What be being your business?”

  “We are Outlanders. I am Tarkanyon of the Fourth Order, and this is Chrisolian and Turrik — the one with the hood.” Turrik nodded his head slowly. “We come to speak with your leaders on an urgent matter of your own safety. Are we right in saying you are currently in rebellion with the king of Foré?”

  “Rebellion?” the plump man said, approaching Tarkanyon. “Peace! I'll be, uh, I'll take you to the mayor of our village, Hedgwook, to be sure. But he is only in the next village... it is more safe that way for him. And he is closer to the... the Earl.”

  “The Earl?”

  “To be sure, the Earl of our villages.”

  “Who is this Earl?”

  The plump man drew closer and whispered, “he is known simply as Ay, the Earl. That is all we know and all we call him. I know that is why you are here... yes, the King has come to save us from him!”

  “How long has he been the Earl?” Tarkanyon whispered in return.

  “For long, uh, a long time.”

  Tarkanyon nodded, a little perplexed. He turned over to Turrik and instructed, “Ride to Altana and inform him of our conversation here.” He pulled a little closer and continued, “You know what to say.”

  Turrik nodded and sprinted off. The plump man looked at Tarkanyon quizzically. “Do not worry,” Tarkanyon said. “Peace!”

  The plump man nodded and began to lead them further into the village. Tarkanyon started to think over what might happen next. In Foré the lords had gained enough power to control the King, and this is why the King was unable to keep his land under his rule. With the escalating war the lords were probably manipulating each other for position and taking more advantage of the fear of the people. There had already been skirmishes amongst certain Houses in Foré, and so the situation began to make more sense. The villages were not defecting against the King, only probably crying out against the rule of their lord. However, the King did not know – or perhaps even care - about the cry of his people. He wanted his taxes paid. But taxes go to the Earl, who must pay it to the king. So it must be the Earl who is hostile to the king.

  If his suspicions of Altana wanting to see the king overthrown were true, which Tarkanyon was convinced they were, perhaps he was supporting this Earl. But Altana's relentless determination to simply invade the villages and restore order with violence, order that would place them once again under the King's rule, made no sense if he was happy with the villagers being in rebellion or under their Earl's authority.

  They travelled on a well-used dirt road which winded and turned with small houses on either side. Small creatively painted pots with colourful flowers were on the doorsteps, along with modest but beautiful little gardens. Occasionally a dog barked at them and sometimes this caused a stir amongst the inhabitants, but they seemed otherwise a wonderful, peaceful village.

  The village ended much like it began on the other side, after only fifteen minutes walk, and they crossed over another small stream on a little gray-stone bridge. The sun was now rising quickly and the colour of the land was forming into something bright and radiant. Ahead of them the mountains glittered.

  The path led down a small valley to another village further down below. It looked very much like the previous one. Grass on either side of them rolled into flowers and trees, another wood on their left and nothing but open field on their right. The stream winded through this field and ran down from a mass of water they could see more clearly as the sun rose and they neared the village. It was built next to a large and beautiful lake. In the centre of the lake was a little rock island. The lake stretched out far into the mist running down from the mountains.

  As they continued they were led under a small archway on a cobbled road with a wooden sign on the top that read “Hedgwook”. A handful of rough looking men greeted them and out of these a tall and slender man, bald and with a stripe of a moustache, stepped forward. The rest of the men had their hands on the hilts of their swords and axes, ready to fight if need be. Tarkanyon appreciated that.

  “I am Jowel,” he proclaimed. “I am the Mayor. I heard of your arrival early in the morning. Welcome Outlanders. Peace.”

  “Peace,” Tarkanyon responded, nodding. They dismounted and gave a small bow. “How did you know we were coming?”

  “We be having scouts too,” answered Jowel. “We saw the scouts of the army, and saw you close by too. Ay, our Earl, his horsemen saw you too and they are coming to be meeting you.”

  “We cannot talk for too long then,” said Tarkanyon. “I am Tarkanyon of the Fourth Order and we thank you for your welcome.”

  “Now, why you being here?” asked Jowel.

  “We must be assured that you are at peace with the king of Foré,” answered Tarkanyon. “And quickly. We suspect that his army may march upon you now.”

  “Many of them fight for their own power,” answered Jowel.

  “Yes, I am aware of that. But you have not answered my question. Are you are peace with the King or not?”

  After a moment and a rather puzzled look, Jowel answered, “We are.” He then pulled himself closer to Tarkanyon and spoke lowly. “Ay, the Earl... he be not a very good Earl...” As he was saying this they were interrupted by Turrik who came galloping behind them.

  “Tarkanyon!” he was shouting. “Drius and Altana are at loggerheads, and we are trying to prevent the army from moving into the village!”

  “What?” Tarkanyon shouted as Turrik came speeding up to them.

  “Altana has ordered his men in, and Drius has pinned him down and threatened him to stop his order! Unfortunately, he will not comply and Drius will not go forward with his threat!”

  Turrik fell in next to them and continued: “I told Altana that the village claimed to be at peace, and that there was no threat or need to march in. But he would not listen. As he ordered his men in Drius appre
hended him but there is no means of truly stopping him. Altana orders his men even under Drius' bo.”

  “Of course, there is nothing Drius can truly do,” Tarkanyon said. He turned to Chrisolian. “Take this message to Altana. Ensure that he receives it clearly. Tell him that the Earl here is corrupt and that the villagers are not revolting against the King. Tell him that, according to Foré law, he is not to march against them otherwise we are at liberty to stop him; violently, if necessary. That is their own law!”

  Chrisolian nodded, mounting his horse and springing away from them. Tarkanyon quickly turned toward Jowel. “Now tell me quickly about your Earl, this... Ay.”

  “What of our village?” cried Jowel. “They will burn it to the ground!”

  “Not while we stand,” Tarkanyon said. “Now, tell me of the Earl before he arrives -- quickly!”

  But it was already too late. Tarkanyon heard three horses racing up behind him and he turned around. They were led by a rather tall and bulky man with very pale skin and wild red hair. As he neared, Tarkanyon noticed he was wearing mostly black – black pants, black boots, a black coat with glittering gold buttons, buttoned up to his neck very tightly in the Foré way. Around his neck, and trailing in the wind behind him, was a scarlet cape. On his left and his right were two soldiers with chain mail and wearing blue uniform. The leader halted in front of them all. Tarkanyon noticed at once his thick red sideburns and sharp green eyes.

  “I am Ay, the Earl of these villages,” he said in a low, calm but gruff voice. “My men saw you and your army a few days ago in our scouting, while you spied out our land to make your move. So, I have been waiting for you.”

  “Tarkanyon of the Fourth Order,” Tarkanyon said. “We have been sent by the King.”

  “Have you now?” said Ay, lifting a thick red eyebrow.

  “Yes We were informed that these villages were revolting and that we should come to restore peace and take into custody those who are responsible.”

  “Ah,” sighed Ay. “Yes, we had a... a small problem. With a tax collector.” He looked at Jowel intently and continued, “they have been taken care of, however. So, you and your army may leave.”

  “My apologies then,” Tarkanyon replied sharply. “We then should be getting on with the rest of our mission.” He mounted his horse and was about to kick Polin into riding, but Ay lifted his black gloved hand and stopped him.

  “Let us not play the fool, Outlander,” he croaked calmly. “Do you think that I am not aware of the Monument’s view of our systems? Once again, the Monument and the Jewel both wish for us all to embrace their corrupt ways over our ways. But it is not the Jewel who must daily contend with the war looming at the Twins and, of course, the return of the Hircoi so evidently close.”

  “We do not know if the Hircoi have returned. Or the Moncoin, of course,” said Tarkanyon. “Indeed, there is no reason for us to think that this war is even a sign of their return.”

  “Every day, Outlander, is a sign of their return,” answered Ay. “Madness grows, and continues to grow. I know you will not leave until you have found a way to dispose of me. I know your plan. I know how you think.”

  Tarkanyon pretended to merely shrug off this sudden display of honesty. “We have better things to do,” he said. “The Twin Cities are probably at war by now already, and we have had to come here to quell a rebellion that isn’t even happening. Now, we have lost time. When the war is over then we may return here and dispose of the corruption you are imposing on these people.”

  “Corruption?” Ay laughed. “Daresay! Now, here's what will happen: You and your Outlanders will overnight in my estate. Let the army stay here. But you stay with me.”

  “We will overnight where we wish!” Tarkanyon said. “And we do not take orders. We are free men!” Suddenly the men on Ay's right and left half-drew their swords. Turrik turned towards them and exposed his face under his hood, wearing a tough-looking scowl.

  “Easy,” said Ay, beckoning with thick black gloved hands for them to put back their weapons. “For someone who claims to be passionate about peace, you are not very good at ensuring it,” said Ay. “Accept my offer of rest Outlander, and be gone in the morning. It is the best thing to do. Already, that army of the Foré captain has probably stormed Raud...”

  “Yes!” cried Tarkanyon. “We stand here and talk, while the village is in danger! We must make haste!”

  He kicked his horse and raced towards Raud. Turrik was on his heels at once, and as they approached they began to see smoke rising out the village. “Confound that hot-headed general!” Tarkanyon was shouting. Ay moved in next to him and they galloped side-by-side.

  “Yes. Be aware of who you ally with, Outlander,” he said slowly.

  “For an earl who swears to protect his people, you have done dreadfully badly,” answered Tarkanyon. “You claim that you were aware of our presence. Why did your own men – who seem so ready for a fight – not attempt some way of stopping us and this army?”

  The Earl simply grunted in response. Tarkanyon glared at him, wondering what that meant. As they rode further into Raud they could hear chaos and shouting. They twisted to the left on the road and then could see clearly — one of the houses was burning down, a family standing to the side with a middle-aged man shouting and cussing at the Foré soldiers. Moyna was holding him back to prevent him from getting himself killed.

  Altana was on the ground close by, Drius on top of him with his bo on his neck. There was confusion on everyone’s faces, except Altana who was barking orders even underneath Drius’ bo. Tarkanyon drew his bo and dismounted all at once, running straight towards Altana.

  “Altana! Hold! Hold your men! What is the meaning of this?”

  Altana simply turned his head and looked at him sharply from under Drius' bo.

  “We were attacked by some of the villagers,” he croaked. “Fools. This will teach them that we are here to restore order.”

  “My shop!” shouted the man standing close by, amongst some swearing. Altana just glared at him.

  “These are my lands, captain,” said Ay calmly, dismounting his horse. “Perhaps it would have been better had you discussed this with me. We have peace here, there is no rebellion.”

  Altana glared at Ay, not another word.

  “This was not necessary!” Tarkanyon yelled.

  “For you alone!” was Altana's answer, continuing to look at the Earl.

  Tarkanyon shook his head. “Outlanders! Douse the fire! Altana, call your men off! There is no rebellion. You must obey your own law in this.”

  Altana shouted to his men to stand down, and then he looked back at Earl again.

  Tarkanyon moved over to Ay. “We stay the night, then,” he said lowly to the Earl. “We shall soon see what is really going on here.”

  Ay nodded and gave him a flat look. As he mounted his horse he ordered his own men to help with the dousing of the fire. He then looked at Tarkanyon.

  “Since you appear to be so ignorant, although an Outlander: it is the law. The law is why I could do nothing.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN