The Twin Princes

by J. M. Topp

  ‘I will make things easy on you, Rickert. Despite your gracious gestures, we will be returning to Eldervale where the enemy is clear and likely to strike our breast rather than our backs.’

  ‘I am sorry peace could not remain in between our people. You came in search of a safe harbour, but instead, war and bloodshed were what befell you. I will forever be regretful of the events.’

  ‘What will be High Primarch Morrenwylf’s fate?’

  ‘He will be punished. You have my word.’

  ‘I want more than your word. I want to see the punishment in the Council of Alestaeyn Chapel.’

  Rickert shook his head and set his hand on his desk. His wrist ached. He knew what he had to do. His word was the only thing keeping the human king from his rage. All-out war had to be avoided between mankind and elfenkind. His actions would be read about in text for generations to come. He had to act prudently.

  ‘The council was the source Morrenwylf had for his power. If he were to stand trial there, he would surely live. In light of this, the Council of Alestaeyn has been disbanded just this morning, by order of the soon-to-be King Rickert Feldyr. I have no need for primarchs or advocates now that I will be crowned come morning. I had a feeling you would want to see the passing of Morrenwylf’s sentence, however. Follow me to the dungeons, King Hamlin.’

  A SQUAD OF fifteen elfen soldiers in golden armour stood outside the door of a small single cell. Rickert stopped just before them. His personal guard marched around the young prince and drew their swords. Lorett stood beside Rickert, his teeth bared. The Golden Guard unsheathed their swords, but they made no move to attack. Their rifles rested on the floor beside them. Rickert knew what this was.

  ‘Where are the prison guards?’ he demanded.

  ‘We had them relieved,’ said a voice behind the guard. They made way for The Kindler to walk through them. He knelt before the prince. Rickert glared and squeezed his hands.

  ‘Once I thought you a mentor and a friend. You are nothing more than a traitor,’ spat Rickert.

  ‘It wasn’t my intent. I was held under Morrenwylf's manipulation as well,’ said the Kindler.

  ‘Princess Rhiannon and I held you in such high regard. You do not know the depth of the wound you left upon me when I learned you were in his pocket. I looked up to you as a father.’

  ‘I would remind you that I am the one who convinced the Golden Guard to leave Morrenwylf’s side and join you.’

  ‘A smart move, especially considering that I have won Felheim without the Golden Guard. Curious, isn’t it, that you align yourself to me when I have already won. Where were you when the outcome wasn’t so clear? You are, as a result of your poor judgment, banished from Felheim.’

  ‘This is not a wise move, Prince Rickert,’ growled The Kindler, still on his knees. ‘You need me.’

  King Hamlin moved to stand beside Prince Rickert. ‘A human in the council and trust of the elfen. I had my spies find your origins. You are not from the Quiet Valley as you claim, but from the far south, down in the Isles of Brume. You are known as Emmyth there.’

  Emmyth bared his teeth. ‘My name cannot be uttered here.’

  ‘Well then, bare your steel and stop me…Emmyth,’ spat Hamlin.

  Emmyth shot up from his kneeling position and pulled his flintlock pistol from his belt. In a flash, he aimed and fired at Hamlin. The shot went wide, barely missing Hamlin’s head. The Golden Guard moved to seize Emmyth, but then before their eyes thick darkness swallowed the human, leaving behind a trail of smoke.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with this place!?’ shouted King Hamlin. ‘Giant daemons? Dark magic?’

  The metallic smell of blood hung in the air. Rickert ground his teeth. When he found Emmyth again, he would make him pay with pain. One of the Golden Guards, the one who had first jumped to restrain Emmyth, removed his helm to reveal a surprisingly young elf. The guard knelt before Rickert and bowed his head.

  ‘I cannot begin to apologise for the atrocities committed in High Primarch Morrenwylf’s orders. I beg you not to banish us few, and in return, we swear our lives and our swords to your every whim. We will fall upon our swords without a shadow of a doubt if you do not accept our offering. Perhaps our sacrifice will appease you.’

  Rickert walked in front of the guard and placed his hand upon his shoulder. ‘More blood will be spilt this day, but it will not be from those faithful to me. I won’t ask you to fall upon your sword, but I will ask that you give up your steel. I will not harbour betrayal or revenge against me. Lorett, with me. Everyone else, remain here.’

  Lorett nodded, and he, Rickert, and King Hamlin entered the prison. The guard picked up a torch from a wall sconce and led them down the stone path.

  ‘He has been kept here for the last month?’ asked King Hamlin. They kept pace along a corridor made of smooth stone. The farther they went, the more Rickert realised this was no prison like King Hamlin had seen before.

  ‘Not even your spies knew he was here, did they?’ asked Rickert.

  ‘None of us knew this dungeon even existed.’

  ‘This dungeon was meant to imprison only one elfen lady long ago. Now I believe it suits the once high primarch.’

  They continued deeper and deeper into the prison. The temperature began to drop severely, and Rickert could see his own breath. Finally, they reached the end of the corridor and stood in front of a solitary cell.

  The steel gate was cold to the touch. Rickert produced a key from his belt and unlocked the cell. A rustling of chain from within signalled the presence of the prisoner held within.

  Rickert grabbed the torch from the guard and held it high.

  The once High Primarch Morrenwylf rested on his knees in the centre of the cell. He was held down by two steel chains fastened to his wrists. There was very little wiggle room, meaning that he probably had been sleeping on his face. A red welt on his cheek confirmed this.

  The prisoner looked up at Rickert, and a soft moan came from his lips. ‘Rickert.’

  ‘That’s “Your Highness” to you,’ growled King Hamlin, but Morrenwylf’s eyes never wandered away from Rickert. The young elfen prince clenched his teeth and grabbed the torch from the guard’s hands.

  Rickert glared at the once high primarch. ‘Lorett, shave his ears.’

  Without hesitation, Lorett walked before Morrenwylf and drew his blade.

  ‘No, I beg you, please—’

  In one stroke, Lorett cut his left ear off. A howling scream erupted from Morrenwylf, and he fell to the floor, trying to hold his bleeding ear, but the chains prevented him from doing so. The guard grabbed Morrenwylf by the neck and brought him up to the torchlight once more. He then cleanly sliced his right ear off. Morrenwylf’s ears lay before him. The hair at the ends of his ears was drenched in blood. Tears fell from his eyes, and he began to sob uncontrollably.

  ‘I was good to her. I may have come off in a way I didn’t mean to, but we are in love, Rhiannon and I. She loves me,’ said Morrenwylf with blood dripping from his ears.

  Rickert held the torch closer to Morrenwylf’s face. ‘No, she doesn’t. I know that you are trying to anger me, but I am above that, Morrenwylf. I have seen the evil you can turn to. Where did you get the Elderleaf Ether?’

  ‘It was given to me.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘A witch from the Quiet Valley.’

  ‘That doesn’t narrow it down very much. What is her name?’

  ‘I never knew. The witch never told me; she only promised that I would make a mark in history. I would never be forgotten,’ pleaded Morrenwylf.

  ‘From the Quiet Valley, huh? Well, she wasn’t wrong about you not being forgotten, but your mark on history will be one of infamy and cowardice. Of killing innocent humans in the streets of my city. But even more so for the evil you did to my sister. For that, you will pay dearly.’

  Rickert touched the point of his torch to Morrenwylf’s sackcloth clothing. Instantly it went up in flames. Morrenwylf screamed
in agony, writhing and pulling against the steel chains holding him down. The fire ate at his flesh. The skin of his wrists peeled as he strained against his chains. His hair was the first thing to be burned away, and then the flesh of his face began to be consumed. Morrenwylf screamed and trembled as the conflagration devoured his flesh. The torch slipped from Rickert’s hands and clattered onto the prison floor. King Hamlin stepped beside him and picked the it up.

  ‘It is done,’ said Hamlin. Morrenwylf’s screams died as the once high primarch fell to the ground, his charred skin a contrast to the cold blue stone around him.

  ‘I pray this is appeasement enough, King Hamlin,’ said Rickert. He cleared his throat and looked the human king in the eye.

  ‘Perhaps there is something to be gained from an alliance with your people so long as you lead the elfen and no one else.’

  THE CITY OF Felheim was alive in celebration. Rickert sat in a royal carriage that was decorated with flowers and leaves. Ten elfen of the Golden Guard stood careful vigil over the litter. The centre of Felheim was coloured with torches green, purple, and red—Rickert could barely count them all. Elfen celebrated Rickert’s coronation, but no humans could be seen in the square. He wondered where they would all be now. He and King Hamlin of Weserith had drummed up a new alliance, and peace had been restored once more between mankind and elfenkind.

  Rockets brighter and larger than those from the tri-month of Eygol shot into the night sky, exploding into shapes and colours to form the Banner of Feldyr, the new one made to honour King Rickert. The making of a new banner meant the start of a new era for the elfen. The Era of the Twins had begun, and a new flag would lead the elfen people from Felheim into Eldervale. The banner sported a golden outline and had Rickert and Rhiannon side by side with their heads bowed and eyes closed. Rickert held a clump of gunpowder in his left hand, and Rhiannon held a single rose in her right hand. It was a beautiful image—one that Rickert was proud to have as his people’s standard. Yet there was an emptiness that he could not explain. He looked around for Rhiannon. She was supposed to have joined him in the city square by now, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  A shuffling of feet stirred Rickert’s ear, and he turned to see a messenger approach, garbed in a brown cloak and roughspun slippers. He knelt and bowed.

  ‘I have a message for King Rickert. This comes from Princess Rhiannon herself.’

  Rickert’s ears perked up, and he nodded.

  ‘She only requests you to meet her where the observatory lies.’

  Rickert thought for a moment and then smiled knowingly. He stepped from the litter.

  ‘Your Highness, where are you going?’ asked Lorett.

  ‘I only need you. Everyone else can stay here and enjoy the celebration.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘It’s okay, Lorett. Just you.’

  On foot, Rickert made better time than he would have in his litter. Lorett followed him close behind, nervously looking this way and that for an enemy. Rickert smiled to himself but didn’t say a word. There were no enemies left—not in Felheim anyway. He rounded the corner and entered the broad base of the Tower of Sanctuary. A giant chain rested on the doors, wrapped around the handle.

  ‘Break it down.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness.’ Lorett broke the chains with the butt of his spear with ease. The chains fell to the ground with a clunk. Rickert opened the massive door. Only darkness roamed within.

  ‘You may remain here,’ said Rickert.

  ‘Your Highness—’

  ‘It’s only the princess and me. Nothing to be afraid of, Lorett.’

  With reluctance, Lorett nodded.

  ‘I won’t be too long. Wait here,’ said Rickert as he entered the darkness of the tower.

  ‘THE SKY IS so beautiful, isn’t it, little brother?’ asked Rhiannon, staring at the starlit sky and dangling her feet over the edge of the tower. In the dark of night, despite the light from the stars and moon, the top of the tower didn’t seem as tall as it did in the daylight. Rickert sat beside Rhiannon at the top of the Tower of Sanctuary and unlaced the frilling around his neck. He let it fall to the floor beside him and then put his legs over the edge. The wind softly blew against the bare soles of his feet.

  ‘I’ve always admired the moon. It sheds a dark kind of light, don’t you think?’ She stared up at the countless stars in the night sky over Felheim. A few clouds hovered over the city, but the monstrous silver ball of a moon shed its light over the land. The winds weren’t as fierce as they had been so long ago, the first time he had done the climb. The city square was still alive with celebrations of peace as rocket after rocket shot up into the air, illuminating the sky above them, flashing blue, green, and purple.

  ‘I saw the chains were still up on the door. Did you climb up all by yourself again?’ asked Rickert, glancing over the edge. ‘That’s not a good idea, you know.’

  Rhiannon glanced over the edge, but she didn’t answer. Rickert sighed and let himself relax beside her. The morrow would bring challenges of its own. In addition, Hamlin wanted to marry a certain elf of nobility that had caught his attention. Rickert didn’t see why Hamlin couldn’t try, but no elfen lady would ever even consider the idea of being alone in the presence of a human, not to mention in an intimate context. Rickert half-smiled to himself. It would be entertaining to see him try. Hamlin insisted the ceremony would be held in the very gardens they had caught Morrenwylf in. However, the thought of the high primarch brought a dark cloud over Rickert. He glanced at his sister. They hadn’t spoken about the incident with Morrenwylf yet. Rickert was unsure how to ask her how she was holding up. Rhiannon smiled without a care in the world, as if she hadn’t just been rescued from weeks of captivity.

  Rickert cleared his throat. ‘Rhi.’

  ‘Did you know Noreadryyn was a rebel in the war?’ asked Rhiannon absentmindedly. ‘Now that the Council of Alestaeyn is no more, all sorts of secrets have risen from darkness. Noreadryyn’s name is attached to many murders of nobility.’

  Rickert shook his head.

  ‘She fought alongside the famed Lystralyyn but curiously was able to avoid justice. Morrenwylf told me she was placed as our caretaker in a last-ditch effort to subdue High King Feldyr and rid Felheim of the monarchy. It is fortunate Morrenwylf had her killed.’

  ‘Rhi, Noreadryyn was like a mother to us.’

  ‘Before he was killed, Morrenwylf told me she had poisoned you. I’m glad to see she failed.’ Rhiannon’s eyes flashed and sparkled in a rocket’s glare. She turned to Rickert with a curious smile.

  ‘What did he do to you?’ asked Rickert.

  Rhiannon kept her eyes fixed on Rickert. ‘I don’t rightly know where I was, dear brother, but I knew I was safe. I was blindfolded, but one afternoon, the day the massacre of Aelferwich Boulevard began, I was allowed into the gardens to stretch my legs. Morrenwylf told me the battle would end soon. I didn’t expect to see you that night. It’s almost as if I had forgotten everything about you, about Noreadryyn, about everything. I could only see the fish in the pond swimming about without a care in the world. I don’t clearly recall.’

  ‘I am sorry, Rhiannon. Never again will I let anything happen to you.’ Rickert reached for her hand and held her fingers tightly.

  She looked down at his hand and then laughed. ‘He told me you would do this,’ she said with a smile. ‘I cannot forgive you.’

  Rickert’s ears went red, and he stared at his twin sister, not knowing what to say. Rhiannon withdrew her hand as a rocket coloured red painted her face in reflection, creating a dark shadow over her eyes. But they still glistened brightly in the dark.

  ‘Rhi, he didn’t care about you,’ said Rickert in protest. He frowned as his heart skipped a beat. ‘I did everything I could to find you. I love you, but he didn’t.’

  ‘He did,’ said Rhiannon with a smile. She tilted her head. ‘So sorry, little brother.’

  Then she grabbed Rickert’s shoulder and shoved him as hard as she cou
ld. Rickert couldn’t even utter a shout as she pushed him off the tower. He hit a clump of dried vines that twirled him through the air like a rag doll. The last thing he saw before he fell from the edge of the tower was the demented smile adorning Rhiannon’s face—that, and the colour red from fireworks blanketing the sky above her.

  Then, Rickert hit the cobblestone street.

  What is it that Sings in the Wind?

  ELYMIAH TOUCHED DORMA’S cheek as the wyvern shook his scales.

  -I don’t think it is a good idea.-

  ‘We cannot sneak into the fortress with you there, Dorma. Bearohd’s men would hear you and have time to prepare a defence. We need to catch them by surprise.'

  -I will burn them all.-

  ‘No doubt you would, Dorma. But listen to me. Their armour is made of stone. They would live long enough in flames to hurt you. You, I cannot lose.’ Leaves flew against her cloak. Elymiah pulled a stray leaf from her hair and let it fly away with the wind. Dorma snorted and turned his face away.

  -I won’t be far.-

  ‘You never are.’

  ELYMIAH’S CHESTNUT WHINNIED as she pulled the reins, bringing the horse to a halt, and then she held her hand up in the air. The sun blazed red hot in the midafternoon sky, causing the air around her to seem blistering and heavy. She had almost forgotten how sultry the Isles of Brume could get. Her cloak stuck to her back as sweat soaked through her shirt. Cicadas whistled in the thick undergrowth of jungle almost deafeningly. A fly zipped around her ear, and she swatted at it. Her focus, however, was the movement her eye caught farther up in the coiling dirt road.

  Two oxcarts pulled by horses trudged along the road with a dozen of Lord Bearohd’s men walking alongside. They had long, slightly curved swords at their sides, and though most of them weren’t wearing stone armour, the captain was. Elymiah recognised the albino man Wischard. He was chewing on a reed as he sat lazily in his saddle.