The Twins of Tintarfell

by James O'Loghlin

  The King climbed back into bed. Edward could hardly believe what his terrifying, mighty father had been reduced to.

  Randling led the way out of the room and outside to the castle gates, where they were joined by Wanda and ten soldiers, several of whom were carrying lit torches of brush wrapped around sticks. A soldier tied Edward’s hands in front of him again.

  ‘Just a precaution,’ Randling explained.

  They walked through the city towards the Eastern Gate, Randling beside Edward.

  ‘How did you take control from my father?’ asked Edward. ‘He’s got guards and an army of soldiers.’

  ‘It was quite simple,’ replied Randling. ‘I am now able to persuade people to do what I want. Wanda and I left my cottage in the forest and travelled here. Gronk, unfortunately, deserted us, but he was no loss. I convinced the city guards to take me to the King, and then persuaded your father to give me the authority to rule the kingdom in his place. Everyone already knew that he was ill. So, here I am. Of course, the poison Miss Bertha had been feeding the King for the last few months has made his mind easier to control, so that helped.’

  ‘She’s working for you?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘But why do you want Bart? You already have his powers.’

  ‘Ah, now that would be telling,’ said Randling.

  Dani wandered through the forest, not really caring where she was going. She had had enough of making decisions. She just walked, guided by the light of a full moon, glad to be on her own for once. It happened so rarely. She was always with Bart, worrying about Bart, helping Bart, and now she was sick of it.

  Ever since her sacrifice she had felt so tired and distant from everything. Whereas previously she had been the leader, now she drifted along at the back, letting the others make the decisions. She just found it hard to care about anything at the moment. Melindarah had told her that she would feel weary, and that it would pass, but how could she ever recover her spirits when she knew that in a thousand . . . no, 999, days, she would be

  dead?

  She emerged onto a swiftly flowing river and wandered down the bank until she came to the top of a waterfall. She stepped across rocks to the edge and peered over. The water crashed down, and far below, through the dark, she could just make out the white froth of rapids.

  Dani heard a rustle of bushes behind her and turned to see a group of soldiers in castle uniforms marching through the forest. One of them looked at her.

  ‘My Lord!’ he said, pointing.

  A man in white robes stepped from the trees onto the rocks. Dani’s eyes widened. It was Randling, the man who had drained Bart’s brain.

  Behind him, mostly hidden by a tree, was another shape that was vaguely familiar.

  ‘Well, well,’ said Randling. ‘I think you should come with us, young lady.’

  Dani looked left and right along the waterfall, but the soldiers were already fanning out to cut off any escape route.

  ‘Detain her,’ ordered Randling.

  The soldiers drew their swords and advanced.

  Dani backed up against the edge of the waterfall. To her right was the river, and from its edge the soldiers spread out around her in a semicircle to the edge of the waterfall.

  Dani knew she couldn’t fight them. She didn’t even have her sling. She had two options: let them capture her, or jump off the waterfall. Then she thought of a third. The river was about twenty paces wide. It looked deep and was flowing fast, but if she could make it to the other side without getting washed over the waterfall, she might get away. The soldiers had chain mail on and would have to remove it before they swam after her, and that would give her a head start. She ran along the rocks to the river’s edge and waded in.

  ‘Stop!’ shouted a soldier.

  The current was strong and Dani had never been in a body of water any larger than a bath before. She heard footsteps rushing towards her. She didn’t know the first thing about swimming, but she took a huge breath and threw herself in, aiming both upstream against the current and towards the other side. She put her head down and thrashed her arms and legs. Soon she needed air and came up, sucked in a big breath and kept going. The next time she came up she saw she was nearly halfway across, but her arms were getting heavy. She could feel herself slowing, and the current pushing her towards the edge.

  She struggled on, but after a few more strokes she was gasping for breath. She could feel herself being pushed further and further sideways and then suddenly she was whisked over the edge.

  ‘Dani,’ shouted Edward. He rushed to the edge of the waterfall where several soldiers were already peering down.

  ‘Well?’ asked Randling, behind them.

  ‘It’s hard to see, my lord,’ said a soldier, ‘but it’s a big drop and the water is rough. I doubt she’d survive.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Randling. ‘Even if she did, what can she do? She’s not the one who controls the animals, and the city and castle gates are guarded. Come. We must get the boy before it gets light.’

  Edward looked down, but there was no sign of Dani. ‘Shouldn’t we look for her?’

  ‘No,’ said Randling, turning away. ‘Come.’

  Edward followed him, wondering if Dani was really dead. He told himself that if she was, he should be glad. Things were getting dangerous and to survive he would need all his wits about him. Whatever happened from now on, Dani’s presence would only have made things more complicated.

  Surely that was right?

  The water hit Dani like a giant icy punch. Under the surface, she was tumbled over and over by the force of the current. She crashed into a rock, was whisked downstream, and then hit another and bounced off.

  Her lungs were bursting. She kicked hard towards the surface and her head popped out of the water. She sucked in a breath and was immediately pulled under again and somersaulted along. Again she forced her way to the surface and took another breath. The water calmed a little and she was able to stay on the surface. Ahead, however, she could see more rapids. She gathered what little strength she had left and struck out towards the bank, and soon her feet touched ground. She staggered out of the river and collapsed, panting, into the dirt.

  When she had got her breath back she pulled herself up into a sitting position and tried to work out what was going on. What was Randling doing? She remembered the familiar shape she had seen behind him and, with a start, realised that it had been Edward. But he was supposed to be asleep at their campsite. Why was he marching through the forest towards the campsite with Randling and a group of Tintarfellian soldiers?

  A terrible thought hit her. Were they after Bart? She scrambled to her feet and started to run back towards the waterfall.

  Chapter 24

  Dalinia and Timeon

  Edward watched from behind a tree as a soldier crept towards the sleeping figure of Bart. The soldier leant over him and held a cloth soaked in a liquid containing crushed reefsbane, a plant with strong sedating properties, over his nose and mouth.

  Bart tensed, struggled and then went limp. The soldier picked him up, slung him over his shoulder and quietly retraced his steps to where Randling, Edward and the other soldiers waited, then they all headed back towards Cranlon.

  As he walked, Edward tried to think. Now that he had led Randling to Bart, Randling no longer needed him. What would he do to him? Would Randling think that the King’s eldest son was a threat to him because he was the heir to the throne? Would he send him to the dungeons? Or ‘control’ him like he was doing to his father? Or kill him?

  Edward looked around. Could he make a run for it? Of the ten guards, one carried Bart over his shoulder, while the others had fanned out, which meant that whichever way he went, he would have to get past some of them. And his hands were tied.

  Edward slowed down. There were two guards behind him, but if he could evade them he might be able
to escape into the forest. Up ahead there was a fallen tree he recognised. They were nearly back at the city. It was now or never. He took a deep breath, ready to run, but before he could Randling stopped ahead of him and turned around. ‘Come, my boy, walk with me.’

  Edward hesitated, and then kept walking. His chance was gone.

  ‘Were you thinking about running away?’ asked Randling.

  Edward looked at him sharply.

  Randling chuckled. ‘I thought so. Very sensible. Now that you have helped me capture Bart, you are wondering what I will do with you, yes?’

  Edward licked his lips and nodded.

  ‘So far you have made good choices,’ said Randling. ‘Taking me to Bart was sensible. If you hadn’t done so freely, I would have forced you, and that might have been unpleasant. For you, I mean. You are, I think, a clever person. You do what you have to do to survive, without letting too many ideals or principles get in your way. Yes?’

  Edward had to admit that that did sound a lot like him.

  ‘You’re trying to work out whether I will dispose of you,’ continued Randling. ‘Indeed, that had occurred to me. You are the heir to the throne, and if the people knew I was holding you prisoner, they might be unhappy. It may even inspire a revolt against me. You would provide a focus for any discontent that people felt. Unfortunately, Edward, it makes sense for me to get rid of you.’ Randling held his palms up and shrugged, as if to indicate it was all outside his control.

  Edward felt cold inside.

  ‘Can you think of any reason for me to keep you around?’ continued Randling. ‘Is there any way you could be useful to me?’

  Edward had always been good at thinking up plans, but this time his mind was blank.

  ‘Let me give you some more information that might help you answer,’ said Randling. ‘Becoming the new ruler of a kingdom is more complex than I anticipated. Although your father was a cruel, self-serving tyrant, he was, for some reason, popular. By draining Bart, I gained power, and I can use it to take some control over the minds of people near to me. But I can’t control everyone. Of course, if I drained more people, my powers would increase, but never to the extent that I could control the entire population of the city, or even the castle.’ Randling looked at Edward and raised his eyebrows. ‘Any ideas yet?’

  ‘You’re worried about keeping control,’ said Edward slowly. ‘You’ve seized power, but you wonder if you’ll be able to keep it.’

  ‘Good boy. Even though I will be a far better ruler than your father, if the people think I have seized power unjustly – which, of course, I have – then they may be angry and try to get rid of me. In fact, I’ve already noticed some discontent. Yesterday, I made an order concerning the castle’s orphan servants, and I could see that it was only obeyed unwillingly. So.’ Randling looked Edward up and down. ‘How can you help me with that problem, Edward?’

  They emerged from the forest and Edward saw the city walls. He tried to puzzle it out. What could he give Randling? Then he had it. ‘If I, the Prince and heir to the throne, am seen to be supporting you, then the people will accept you.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Randling, a smile coming to his lips.

  As they approached the city gates, the guards grouped closer. Randling stopped. ‘Go ahead,’ he ordered them. ‘He will not run.’ Once they were out of earshot, Randling walked on. ‘Tell me this, Edward. Would you like to become King?’

  Edward’s head spun. ‘Why . . . why would you want me to become King?’

  ‘If you were King, everyone would relax. Once the people saw that Prince Edward, the King’s son and rightful heir, was in charge, they would be happy and content. Everything would be back to normal.’

  ‘I would really be King?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Edward could hardly believe it. A few moments ago he’d thought Randling might kill him. Now he was being offered the thing he had wanted his whole life. They walked through the city gates and headed towards the castle.

  ‘At least,’ added Randling, ‘King in name. I will be in charge, but hardly anyone will know that. You will wear the crown and give the orders.’ He smiled. ‘It’s just that I will tell you what orders to give.’

  ‘Why don’t you use my father?’

  ‘He’s sick. Besides, I would have to release the hold I have on him or people would notice, and if I did he would never agree to be a puppet. He has too much pride, whereas you are more . . . practical.’

  Edward knew that was true. What was the point in not being practical?

  ‘Besides, I like seeing your father so helpless. I hate him too much to let him even appear to be King again.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Edward.

  Randling paused, as if considering what to say. ‘Because he killed my family.’

  Edward stared at him.

  ‘At any rate,’ continued Randling, ‘the question for you is simple – will you be King? A figurehead only, but still. If you say “no”, then I will ask your brother and I’m sure he will agree.’

  Edward felt his blood boil. There was no way he could allow that little brat –

  ‘By the way, Edward, I notice you have not asked about your brother.’

  Edward realised that the little twerp hadn’t even crossed his mind. ‘Oh, yes, well, there’s been a lot going on.’

  ‘He is safe and comfortable, confined to a wing of the castle.’

  ‘Wonderful.’

  Randling chuckled. ‘You don’t have to pretend you care. Your brother is brave, but hot-headed and stupid. His talent is all in his sword-arm.’

  Edward had always thought exactly that.

  ‘You, however,’ continued Randling, ‘are intelligent enough to realise that what I am offering, though far from ideal, has many benefits. If you become King, you will live a life of luxury. And you will be helping me, which means that I will have a reason to be . . . kind to you.’

  Edward weighed it up, and it didn’t take long. He could accept Randling’s offer and live, or reject it and probably either die or have his brain drained. So, he would be King. Not exactly in the way that he wanted, but still. He was about to tell Randling his decision, but then wondered if he could extract some more information first.

  ‘Before I accept,’ he said, ‘I need to know more about who you are and why you’re doing this.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ said Randling with a knowing smile, ‘but I understand your curiosity. I will tell you what your father did to me.’

  He led Edward through the castle gates. The guards stood to attention as he passed. They crossed the courtyard and then Randling called ahead to the soldiers. ‘Take Bart to the throne room. I will be there soon.’

  The soldiers moved off. Randling led Edward to a bench overlooking the deserted castle courtyard, where they sat. Dawn was about to break.

  ‘Before your father was King,’ began Randling, ‘your grandfather ruled.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Edward. ‘He died before I was born.’

  ‘When he died, he left two children: your father ­Corolius, and his older sister, Dalinia. As the oldest child, Dalinia became Queen.’

  ‘Yes, but she was murdered a couple of months later. Stabbed in her bedroom.’

  ‘Who benefited from her death, Edward?’

  Edward realised the answer to Randling’s question was obvious: his father. When Dalinia died, he became King. ‘My father didn’t kill –’

  ‘Oh yes he did!’ said Randling forcefully. ‘He killed her because he wanted to be King.’

  ‘No,’ said Edward. His father was hard and ruthless, but he had always acted in the best interests of the kingdom, and not out of personal ambition. He couldn’t have murdered his sister.

  ‘You don’t need to make something up to turn me against my father,’ Edward said. ‘I’ll be loyal to you. I’ll do what you want. I w
ant to survive. I’m not going to try to restore my father to the throne. I don’t even like him.’

  Randling threw his head back and laughed. ‘You are perceptive. The reason I’m telling you this story is to turn you against your father. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Let me finish and then you can decide if you believe me.’

  Edward nodded uneasily.

  ‘Your grandfather had a loyal and trusted adviser called Lord Horatio Tolmond.’

  ‘I’ve heard of him, of course.’

  ‘Horatio suspected that your father had murdered his sister and, one evening, went to his chambers to confront him. Your father killed Horatio there, and then, thinking Horatio may have told his wife Helen and two adult sons what he had discovered – which, in fact, Horatio had – your father went after them. He found all three in their family chambers. The older son, Bellamy, fought with Corolius, allowing Helen and the younger son, Timeon, to escape.’ Randling looked away and swallowed, as if collecting himself. ‘Your father slew Bellamy.’ Randling paused.

  ‘I was always told that Horatio and his family wanted to seize control of the kingdom,’ said Edward slowly. ‘That Horatio killed Queen Dalinia, and then came to my father’s chambers to murder him. My father managed to defend himself and kill Horatio, and then he went to Horatio’s chambers. Helen and Timeon fled, but Bellamy attacked him, and my father killed him.’

  Randling scoffed. ‘Do you really think that if Horatio had attacked your father, Corolius would have gone to Horatio’s chambers alone? No. He would have taken soldiers.’

  Edward realised Randling had a point. ‘My father ordered a search for Helen and Timeon, but they were never found,’ he said.

  ‘They fled into the forest,’ said Randling. ‘They had been going two days when a tiger came upon them.’ Randling’s jaw muscles tightened. Every word seemed an effort. ‘As the tiger attacked, Helen threw herself in front of her son and sacrificed herself so that he might live. Can you imagine . . .’ He trailed off, and then collected himself. ‘Soon after, mad with anger and grief, seventeen-year-old Timeon came to a huge cliff and, not caring whether he lived or died, started to climb it. Hours later, he made it to the top where, overcome with exhaustion and anguish, he threw himself off.