When Twins War: Book I

by Ryan Peter

The Outlanders spent the rest of the day helping the village with the fire and trying their best to restore peace and confidence, while secretly trying to find out more information on the Earl. As twilight approached Ay returned to the village and told the Outlanders to follow him. They did so, through Raud and Hedgwook. Ay's estate was a light-brown stoned castle set at the water's edge of the lake. The castle had three circular towers with cylindrical roofs. Each tower stood at each end, and two of them faced the water to the east.

  They entered through a small guardhouse and into the courtyard. On their left were meagre stables, but big enough to house all their horses, even if they were a bit cramped. A few steps led to two large double doors for the castle's entrance. A few servants and some of Ay's soldiers were bustling about. The castle was rather modest. Tarkanyon had certainly seen bigger estates belonging to lords and earls in Foré.

  “There are not enough rooms to house all of you, so some of you shall share,” Ay said to them, instructing his servants to help them. “We shall make it comfortable.”

  Ay's servants led them up the small stairs at the other end of the courtyard and through the double doors into the main hall. To their left was a tall flight of stairs, which they were led up to be shown their rooms and the washrooms.

  The castle was furnished rather scantily and Tarkanyon took notice of this, paying special attention to the tapestries and paintings, to get an idea of Ay's background. He couldn’t find any clues here, unfortunately. There appeared to be no family portraits. They washed and then enjoyed a dinner downstairs in the dining room. Not even his cutlery gave any indication of his lineage, which was all most unusual amongst nobles. It was a room big enough for them all, with a dark wooden table to match. Most of the furniture in the castle was rather dark and gloomy. Candlesticks lit the table while three archways led outside to the courtyard on the western side.

  Capon with Orange and Lemon was served; a boiled chicken dish that also included prunes and dates. Cloves and peppercorns were covered with cheesecloth. A dry and mellow white wine was served to all while they discussed the last many weeks events amongst themselves. Tarkanyon reminded them that Ay could be listening or have a spy amongst his servants. In this way he directed the conversation in a way that he hoped would bring them favour.

  Eventually, the conversation became a bit more jovial.

  “So, Turrik,” said Drius out loud, watching Turrik cutting an apple with his knife. “Any women-folk caught your eye here at the villages?”

  The other Outlanders began to snicker.

  Turrik paused. “There has been one woman whom I have been watching for some time, although not because I am attracted to her, moreso out of a curious interest, given the unwomanly way she behaves.”

  “Ah, and who might that be?” Drius asked with a smile.

  “You.”

  They burst into laughter, slapping the backs of both of them. Drius quickly turned his attention to Tarkanyon to change the subject.

  “That beard of yours is starting to look a little like Chrisolian's,” he said, pointing at Chrisolian. Chrisolian sat back with a smirk.

  Tarkanyon rubbed his beard. “Yes, I'm rather annoyed about it. I was just about to shave this morning when Altana interrupted me.”

  “You finding the rugged look there attractive, Drius?” Turrik piped up, with more laughter from them all.

  “There was once an Outlander,” Drius replied amidst the noise, “That used to say to me that a warrior always keeps himself clean.”

  Tarkanyon chuckled. “Yes, I still believe that.”

  “Chrisolian, what say you?” Drius asked.

  “Well, I say that a warrior hasn't the time to worry about his looks, he is too busy being, well, a warrior.”

  “A warrior makes time,” Tarkanyon replied. “It's about discipline. You get the little things right, you’ll get the big things right. You shave every morning. In this time, the warrior plans his victory for the day.”

  “You? Plan?” Drius laughed.

  Tarkanyon conceded with a smile. “Well, as best as I can, at least. One cannot plan for everything.”

  “What is the plan for tomorrow then?” Poiternium asked.

  “First thing in the morning, we all shave,” Tarkanyon said. “Including Chrisolian.”

  Dinner was now finished so they began to retire to their rooms.

  Tarkanyon's chambers faced the lake and had a large balcony, which linked all the rooms on that side. From the balcony, and on his right on the other side of the lake, he could see some of the lights from Raud. But he was more interested in the island in the middle of the lake. He recalled that sometime during the day he had seen a building on that island. The moon cast a soothing reflection on the lake on what was a very clear night, illuminating the island a little bit but not enough to make out the building on it. Tarkanyon did notice, however, a small boat below on the edge of the lake. It was probably used to get to the island, he thought.

  To the north of the lake stood the Great Mountains, their vehement beauty both intimidating and impressive. The land that stretched from here towards the mountains was cragged and rocky and hardly inhabitable, except to monsters such as trolls and the like.

  Drius's room also led out to the balcony, as well as Poiternium. Both came out.

  “I sense fear over that village,” said Drius to Tarkanyon, looking at Raud.

  “Myself,” agreed Tarkanyon.

  “I don't trust this Earl,” Poiternium added in a low whisper.

  “I trust Altana less,” Tarkanyon replied.

  They stood looking at the view for a while, each in his own thoughts. Poiternium remarked how he still missed his guitar, which fell mostly on deaf ears from the other two. As he was talking about how he had spent months looking for a guitar with a certain resonant quality, he suddenly stopped speaking and narrowed his eyes, looking towards the mountains. The others didn't really notice.

  “What is that?” he asked finally.

  “What?” asked Drius.

  Poiternium pointed to the mountains. “There. Something... a light. Moving there.”

  They each turned to look and could faintly see what he was pointing at. An obscure light, or what seemed to be a light, moved through crags of the mountains intermittently. It seemed at first to be a feeble ray of moonlight, but the ray itself was moving too swiftly for it to be that. It looked as if something was shining upon the mountains, that it was a light reflecting off something else. But it was not evident what the something else could possibly be.

  “That is indeed strange!” Tarkanyon remarked. “It looks as a ray of light... but where is it coming from?” They all stared at it for a moment and noticed how it gradually changed from a white colour to a hazy green.

  “This is marvellous!” Drius said. “It seems so far away, yet we can see it... moving. As if it has a mind of its own.”

  “Marvellous?” Poiternium said. “I'm not sure about marvellous. Strange, yes... but marvellous? I don't like to think anything marvellous until I know what it is. Besides, if we can see it from here on the Great Mountains it is evident that whatever it is must be colossal in size... and swift!”

  They heard some shuffling behind them.

  “I trust you all enjoyed your dinner?” said Ay coming from another room connected to the balcony.

  “Yes,” answered Tarkanyon abruptly, still looking at the ray of light in the mountains. The Earl peered over them, seeing what they were all looking at. “Ah,” he said. “I have been watching them for some time. Beautiful.”

  Drius raised an eyebrow. “Them?”

  The hazy green ray slowly changed to a very dark blue, moving slowly and disappearing under a shadow.

  “There is a legend of a people that live in the mountains,” answered Ay. He moved to the edge of the balcony and joined them in staring at the ray of light.

  Tarkanyon frowned. “I think I have heard of such things – but those who go seek them never find them. Many neve
r even come back.”

  “Perhaps they never come back because they find them,” answered Ay. “And they didn't want to come back.”

  “Possible,” said Drius. The light reappeared, moving back and forth slowly and disappearing in intervals.

  “It seems all very dangerous to me! And you speak as if we are talking of the weather!” said Poiternium. “Whatever is creating those lights must be large!”

  Ay nodded flatly while Tarkanyon added, “We have sent Outlanders to find these 'lights', but all have said they have not seen anything.”

  “It is from where you look that makes the difference.”

  “I know many who have come to these areas.”

  “Yes. But I’ve not had any stay in my house.”

  “You mean to say,” Poiternium piped in, “that it is this castle of yours that makes the difference?”

  Ay nodded. “Yes. From other points, or places, you may see nothing.”

  There was a moment's silence while they all looked at Ay in disbelief.

  “I doubt that,” Poiternium said. “That is too strange for my liking.”

  “There is another, much better point of view,” Ay added. He was looking now across the lake.

  Tarkanyon followed his eyes. “That island?”

  “Not just the island, but the tower on the island,” answered Ay. “I often go and look. But the lights do not always come. These are a magical people, as the legends say. They are said to often fly and watch over our villages, keeping their eye on Kelagot to the north, over the mountains, to ensure that the Moncoin will not return without our knowing.”

  “They fly over here?” said Poiternium nervously. “I don't think I feel comfortable knowing that.”

  Tarkanyon gave Poiternium a flat look. “That is if it's true, Poiternium,” he said.

  “It is,” Ay said. “These creatures are far more pure than you Outlanders. These are creatures of belief and faith. The Outlanders are not.”

  Tarkanyon was not sure what Ay meant by that. He gathered his temper. Luillan's voice was in his head, telling him to listen to the tale, it could be important. So he nodded to Ay and beckoned for him to continue.

  “Friends of the Genicoins,” Ay said. “A powerful army these people are, with weapons as great as the fire of the Genicoins themselves. They are said to be friends of a blazing raptor.” Tarkanyon flinched at this and Ay smiled. “That means something to you, Tarkanyon, doesn't it?”

  “That means something to the Twin Cities,” Tarkanyon answered cautiously. “But these are only legends. What is truth, and what is not?”

  “That is easier to know if you look at truth differently.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If truth can be known as one person knows another, then truth can indeed be known.”

  “I am not sure I understand that,” Poiternium added. “And these lights -- are they friend or foe? That is my question — and certainly the more important question!”

  “Understand it?” Ay said. “The question should be understand who. Then you may find what you are seeking. And as for whether they are friend or foe, that also depends on your own allegiance.”

  They stood in silence once more. Poiternium eventually broke it. “I am an Outlander. My allegiance is to peace.”

  “Again, who's peace?” asked Ay.

  “Everyones!”

  “Who's way?”

  “The... right way. The way we have all been taught!”

  “Your way.”

  Tarkanyon glared at Ay, trying his best to compose himself. “Go on,” he said. “Let us not quarrel about politics tonight, I ask of us all.”

  Ay murmured softly and then continued: “Now, a prophecy. The prophecy may be important too. It is said that when the Wealth returns a man will set these creatures – these people – free. They will no longer watch but fight. Then the end will come.”

  “What prophecy is that?” asked Drius.

  “A local one,” said Ay.

  “Tell us more,” said Tarkanyon.

  Ay looked at him and squinted his eyes. “Mark this well, Outlander. For I sense it is important for you. There are three houses of light. Each point in the direction, or show the direction, of the Hidden People. The People who were once, but then disappeared.”

  “The Genicoins?” interrupted Drius.

  “No, not the Genicoins. They are not hidden, they are gone.”

  “Then who are the Hidden People?” asked Tarkanyon. “And how do you know of such things?”

  “They are the people who protect us, Outlander. The world within, or without, our world. Such light as you see are the Hidden People. A hidden mystery. See how the light shines – it is shining from somewhere else... it is not as a light we know and understand.”

  They had all noticed that the ray of light seemed to be a reflection off something that they could not see.

  “You're talking strange mysticism now,” Drius said. “This sounds like something I've heard some of the stranger mystics say. I don’t usually have time for it.”

  “I do not claim that we are able to make contact with the Hidden People, which is what many mystics say,” replied Ay. “And besides, there is a sort of mysticism that is true, and one that is not. No, that is not what I mean. We wait for the Wealth to show us the way. Well, to guide as to what we ought to know.”

  Something inside Tarkanyon, a compulsion, led him to ask: “What of these houses of Light, then?”

  “Ah yes,” said Ay. “The Genicoins built three Houses of Light. These would point the way to the Hidden People and will bring them to you. You do not go to them, they come to you. This is how you find them. I do not know what the House of Light for those in the mountain is, but I have also heard of a people on the islands — hidden islands that surround Lexedore. There is a House of Light on our shores. To the ordinary eye it appears to be a lighthouse of old. However, if you find a certain stone, this lighthouse will point the way to the people of the Islands and they will find you. I suspect something similar must hold true for the Hidden People of the mountains.”

  Ay looked at Tarkanyon. “It is not I who protect these villages, Outlander,” he stated. “It is them.”

  The ray of light changed from blue to red, and then disappeared completely.

  “Then you have seen them?” asked Tarkanyon at length.

  “A Hidden People remain hidden. But the wind is hidden too.”

  “Where are you from?” Tarkanyon asked. Drius glanced at him.

  “Why does it matter?” was the answer. “That does not concern you.”

  With that, Ay turned on his heel and left them all somewhat perplexed.

  At last they all retired to their quarters, Tarkanyon staying awake for a while, lying on his bed and thinking over their mission and Ay's strange conversation. Slowly he drifted off to sleep. It was a deep, heavy sleep that swept him from dream into dream after dream, culminating in him finding himself standing above the water in the middle of the lake outside.

  The rays of light they had seen that evening were moving about slowly in the mountains, in the lake, and in the villages around the lake. Tarkanyon turned around to look at the island and the tower on the island. There was an unearthly twilight around him and yet everything was vivid in its form. In place of the tower on the island was a thick, tall tree. Its trunk elongated straight upwards, far into the sky. Tarkanyon could not see the top of it as it disappeared into the clouds above.

  The lights continued to change colour around him, moving about slowly and deliberately; almost seeking. A thought came to Tarkanyon's mind:

  Would your colours and your light now be shown, Tarkanyon?

  Tarkanyon thought for some time on that, staring at the lights, fascinated. They seemed like the reflections of ghosts, as if he knew that something else was there, hovering above them; that they were a reflection of something in another world. He suddenly noticed the village morphing into different colours as well.

 
“Perhaps Ay truly does protect this village,” he thought to himself. “But why would the people seem so angered by him?”

  He stared at the water below him. He could almost see the bottom of the lake, but he wasn't entirely sure. He could sense that it went deep down. Deep, deep down. An ancient deep. As he stared at it the waters began to ripple, like when a stone is thrown in. A voice came, deep yet as gentle as the water, as a deep whisper. Every time it spoke the water rippled.

  I brought you here.

  “For what?” said Tarkanyon. He wanted to ask who it was, but for some reason asked this question instead.

  To see the world as it is. To see it as it shall be. And to tell you of what you shall see.

  “I see mysteries,” said Tarkanyon. “Many mysteries.” This wasn’t what he actually wanted to say, but he didn't really seem to have entire control over his speech.

  Yes. But these shall make sense to you in time. For now, there is one whom you must protect as he protects.

  “Ay?”

  Yes. Do not be victim of only what you see, Tarkanyon. Here you must believe what you feel too. For all will not be as it seems. Here and also with what comes.

  He continued to listen, waiting.

  See, Tarkanyon.

  The lights hovering about the water began to move faster and faster, spinning madly. Slowly the water became turbid and murky, a lurid inky quality. As the lights moved faster over it they began to also move into it. Tarkanyon became suddenly aware that the water had changed, it had gone and it was now as if he was staring into a dark empty space, as if he was hovering above black emptiness. It was as dark as the night sky, but without stars. The rays of light shone against the blackness, moving slowly, reflecting against what seemed to be thick black cloud, but almost looking as if they were reflecting against nothing but darkness; an eerie, empty reflection; as if they were reflecting against Nothing. They hovered about, seeking for something, something in the empty and void below him.

  As he continued to stare the darkness became darker, as if that were even possible. Tarkanyon sensed fear. Not inside of himself, but emanating from out the blackness. Fear was in the darkness itself. It felt as if it was trying to clutch at him, its dark fingers trying to grasp at him and pull him down into its deep and ancient madness. He felt nauseous, but he was not perturbed by it, nor was he afraid. He simply watched, knowing in his heart that the Fear could not snatch him.

  The Madness wants you. All must choose, eventually. You have chosen, Tarkanyon. And so I too have chosen.

  “When?”

  A memory flashed through his mind. He remembered staring out his chamber window at the Monument. The rain was pouring hard outside. He was looking at one of the bridges below, a light mist covering the further end of it.

  It was the day his father had died. Anger and resentment flooded his heart; not now, but then as a younger man. A hatred for his father's killer. No one knew who had murdered him but that didn't matter, Tarkanyon could still hate him. Deep inside he had set it in his heart to seek out and get his revenge. His emotions came back to him, pain and sorrow filling his heart, mixed with rage and madness.

  And then he let go. Not now, but then as a young man. He let it go and peace came to him, a joy overwhelmed him. He leaned down and wept for his father; wept for his father's death. Then he forgave the killer. He forgave him in his heart and it was over. He never hated the man again.

  He continued to stare at the empty blackness, the rays of light shining in it, seeking for something in it. Seeking, seeking. Or, it seemed, seeking for it, the darkness, itself. Seeking for the source of the void. The very Will of that darkness.

  Others will choose too. Now, rest.

  Tarkanyon closed his eyes, a stillness overcoming him. The dream faded away, his sleep becoming lighter and lighter, and then he awoke.

  It was early morning. A new, refreshing peace was in his heart.

  He got up to shave.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN