The Twin Princes

by J. M. Topp

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  ACT I

  Chant of the Elfen

  Problème d'émotion

  Old Incense and Mulled Wine

  The Birth Of Usurpation

  The Moon Over Karagh Muín

  The Kouffyngtooth

  A Blade Sharpens

  The Bloodrune

  Under Cover Of Dark

  Wisdom of a Sage

  A Sparrow Takes Flight

  ACT II

  Felheim by Night

  The Old Crone

  Floddenvale

  Aelferwich Boulevard Massacre

  Vammar Sanctum

  Path of a Daemon Hunter

  Bellicose Fires

  Family Tradition

  The World Beneath

  ACT III

  I Play Dead

  Beyond Me

  For Blood and Branch

  What is it that Sings in the Wind?

  Bond of a Daemon Hunter

  Pernicious Caitiff

  Prisoner

  The Twin Princes

  Harmony of the Apostles II

  J.M. Topp

  Copyright ©LaFoyelle Publishing, 2019 by J.M. Topp

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Request,” at the email address below.

  jonathantopp516@hotmail.com

  ISBN 978-0-9997074-2-5

  www.jmtopp.com

  Artwork courtesy of Emilio C. Rodriguez

  For hi-res map please visit https://jmtopp.com/maps

  Copyright © LaFoyelle Publishing, 2019. J.M. Topp

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9997074-2-5

  This somber tale represents the rise from the depths of depression and misery. The light shines brightest where the shadow is darkest. Finally, special thanks to my wife and everlasting love, Audrey. This journey was made easier and more fun with you.

  - J.M. Topp

  ACT I

  Chant of the Elfen

  FIERCE WINDS TORE at Prince Rickert Feldyr’s white silk shirt and pants, swaying him lightly. Small bits of chalky white brick and dried twigs collected under his fingers as he held on for dear life. Rickert looked down, between his legs to the immense nothing far below. The gardens at the base of the high tower stood dark green in contrast to the majority of the city that was built of grey limestone. Rickert’s fingers cramped, and he willed them to hold their grip. His silver ear-length hair whipped fiercely over his eyes. His arms and legs shook from hanging onto the thick and bristling greenery for so long. Vines and branches wrapped the Tower of Sanctuary from the base to the very top. When Rickert had suggested climbing the tower, Rhiannon, his twin sister, had hesitated in agreeing—at first. He had jumped in excitement when she finally said yes, but now it was Rickert who had second thoughts.

  He glanced up at his sister through the blinding light dancing off the tower. Rhiannon, who had always been the better climber, had scaled the wall far above him. She was making it seem like she had done this once or twice before.

  Rickert frowned. She’s such a show-off.

  Rhiannon's white slippers were all he could see from so far below—that and her knee-length white hair and pointed ears poking out behind her head. The delicate white fur on them blew back and forth as if they were caught in a storm. Rhiannon was almost near the top balcony of the tower. Rickert's legs began to cramp. He grit his teeth as he pushed himself on his other leg toward the next thick vine. At the base of the high tower, the winds hadn’t seemed as violent as they felt now. The climb had seemed like such a simple matter from the safety of solid ground. Rickert rested his forehead on the cold stones of the tower for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Sweat collected on his forehead.

  ‘Rickert!’

  Rhiannon had paused to look back at him. Her hair whipped fiercely like a white banner in the blue skies. Rickert might have laughed at the sight, but he was beginning to lose strength in his arms.

  ‘Hey, are you all right!?’ Rhiannon shouted down at him. She made it seem like they were merely strolling along the palace gardens, under the watchful eye of Noreadryyn. Rickert wanted to scream, but if he did, he might lose all strength and fall.

  ‘Alestaeyn preserve me,’ prayed Rickert in a whisper. His ears twitched and flattened themselves against the nape of his neck, the fur scratching against his soft skin. He stared at his fingers as brick cracked under his grip.

  ‘Rickert? I’m coming back down,’ said Rhiannon as she began her descent.

  Rickert clenched his teeth and looked up again. ‘No. I’m fine,’ he said, trying to scream. The words only escaped his mouth in a whisper. Even if he had been able to shout, he doubted Rhiannon would be able to hear him anyway, being so far up. A gust of wind beat at Rickert again, this time shaking the vine he was holding onto dearly. Vines had crept over the Tower of Sanctuary for decades, intertwining like an elabourate green fabric, but they rarely supported the weight of two elfen children.

  CRrraCK

  Rickert watched in terror as the intertwining branches began to peel off the stone tower from above, little by little. Rhiannon's climb must have loosened them. He looked up at Rhiannon, knowing it would be the last time he would see her face.

  The vine cracked and tossed Rickert into the air.

  ‘Rickert!’ shouted Rhiannon, holding her hand out to him, too far to catch.

  Rickert was surprised at how calm he was, falling through the air to his death. It would be over soon, in just a few seconds, or however long it took for his small body to hit the ground below. He closed his eyes.

  I will burst, like a tomato. Noreadryyn will be very upset.

  He realised at that moment: there was nothing in his eyes. Some would say that a story of a life lived long would flash before his eyes at the time of his death; trouble was, there was not much of a story that had been lived. Rickert turned to look at the ground, which was rapidly growing larger and larger.

  Suddenly, a gust of wind hit his stomach, knocking the breath out of his chest. Rickert opened his eyes and realised that it was not a gust of wind. He was not falling anymore; he was swinging. He looked up to see Rhiannon, clenching a small knife in her mouth and holding a long vine in her other hand. She must have cut the vine she was on and intercepted his fall. Rickert could have hugged her. ‘You saved me.’

  ‘I’ve got you, little brother,’ she said through the knife in her teeth. ‘C’mon. Don’t let go of me.’ Rhiannon grabbed the vines from a different side of the tower and continued to climb up, with Rickert around her neck. Rickert wanted to protest, but his breaths were still coming in short gasps.

  ‘Rhi, wouldn’t it be easier to climb down?’ he asked when he had found his voice once more.

  ‘But we’re almost there, Rickert.’ She looked up and, with impressive strength, carried herself and Rickert up the tower. Once, she almost lost her grip, making Rickert squeak, but she quickly jammed the knife into the side of the tower for support. ‘Hang on,’ she whispered, putting more strength in her arms and legs. Rickert was afraid he would choke her, but she didn’t seem to mind. He was like a flimsy cloak on her back.

  ‘Thank you,’ Rickert whispered, but not too loudly. Rhiannon must not have heard, because she didn’t acknowledge it. Vine after vine, little by little, she brought them up. Finally, they reac
hed the top balcony of the tower, and Rhiannon tossed Rickert onto the stone panels. He landed hard but quickly picked himself up and helped Rhiannon get onto the balcony. She heaved herself up and lay on the floor, trying to catch her breath. She stared at the bright blue sky as Rickert stared at her. Her sparkling green eyes and pallid skin, almost the same colour as the stone they were lying on, gave her the look of a porcelain doll. He sat next to her to regain his senses. Panic began to set in. He had been so close to dying. Only Rhiannon's quick thinking had saved his life. Rickert looked over at his sister again. Her white hair was spread out above her head like a blanket, and her chest rose and fell quickly.

  She glanced at him. ‘That was close, little brother,’ she whispered amidst short gasps.

  Rickert looked away and nodded slowly. His ribs hurt a little when he took a breath, probably where Rhiannon had grabbed him to stop his fall. Now that he was thinking about it, it seemed almost ridiculous that something like that could have happened—almost like something out of a nursery rhyme. Rhiannon put her legs in the air, jumped up, and began to laugh. Her crystalline laughter scared some birds that were roosting within the top of the tower. Rickert smiled and joined her in laughter with a joyful smile. Finally, Rhiannon wiped her lips and stood up. ‘That was fun. Now for our prize.’

  The Tower of Sanctuary had been named after the Progenitor of Old—the first elf, some historians would say, who brought elfenkind to the world with the power of ice and snow. The tower itself had been abandoned and sealed off nearly sixteen years ago, around the time of Rickert and Rhiannon’s birth. Their mother, Elder Isilynor, had died giving birth to them only one month prior to the closing of the tower. High King Atmerys Feldyr had succumbed to a strange disease that pocked his bones with holes, leaving him crippled and unable to move from his bedchamber for fifty years. One fateful day, he’d fallen down the stairs of the Tower of Sanctuary, breaking every single bone in his body. The tower was banned from visitors henceforth. Immediately upon the death of both monarchs, the Council of Alestaeyn was born, and they took a vow to bestow order upon and maintain the small kingdom until Rickert and Rhiannon came of age to rule.

  ‘I heard a guard say that there was an observatory at the very top. Father used to spy across the land of the Eldervale from a large spyglass,’ said Rhiannon, standing up and dusting off her once white dress. It was now more yellow than anything. Rickert knew Noreadryyn wouldn’t be pleased.

  He glanced at the edges of the city. The Lyvostralyyn Forest surrounded Felheim and crowned it in chloranthic colours. Pine trees protected the town from the vicious gales from the Quiet Valley. To the north, nothing but a tall wall of white stood to signal the end of the world. Rickert held his breath at the stunning view of the Cairn of Winter. The Whitecrown Mountains stood tall in the distance to the south. Like a jagged snow-capped maw, the massive mountain range reached high into the sky. Often when Rickert was lost in thought, he would imagine traveling over those mountains and seeing what lay to the south. It must be beautiful beyond the Whitecrown Mountains. Perhaps one day he would scale them and gaze over the mountain range for himself.

  Rickert glanced over the sprawling city of Felheim. The olden elfen city was built on a valley of ice. A ring of mountains called Morh’s Crest adorned the city like a jagged crown, encasing Felheim in a wall of stone and snow. The city walls had originally been built in stone taken from the sides of Morh’s Crest, and though the stone had begun to crack, ice had somehow permeated the weaknesses and reinforced the structure so that it was now ten times its original strength. Some elfen believed that the walls had been blessed by the goddess Alestaeyn herself. Sixteen towers lined the walls of the city, keeping a keen eye on the surrounding mountains and forests for intruders. Sometimes humans would appear on the edges, surprised that the fortress existed, but they would be killed on the spot. Rickert wished they would capture them and find out more about their culture, but it was forbidden for a human to enter Felheim. Well, for the most part.

  Felheim was divided into five smaller quarters based on a caste system of the elfen. Even the poorest of the poor enjoyed a roof over their heads and a meal every day. Rickert and Rhiannon lived in the palace in the Royal Quarter, which was presently covered in banners and streamers that were attached to every tower no matter how far apart the towers were from each other. Elfenkind was preparing for the festival of the tri-month of Eygol, three months in which every day a particular aspect of the god Eygol, younger brother to the goddess Alestaeyn, was celebrated. The tallest rooftops in the city flew banners coloured red, blue, gold, and green, in the style of the elfen house Feldyr. Great tents had been erected in the centre of the city, housing caravans from the Quiet Valley. Entertainers and ice-witches danced during the festival, showing off their prowess and extraordinary skills. Rickert was excited about the festival, but more than that, he was eager to see him.

  ‘Do you think the Kindler will be here this time?’ asked Rickert, craning his neck toward his sister.

  ‘Of course he will,’ returned Rhiannon. ‘He never misses the festival.’

  Rickert then turned to the balcony entrance. Two oak doors were closed tightly, and a heavy chain snaked through the rusted iron handles. But the oak was rotting. Rickert stood up behind Rhiannon, and they both walked to the door. He peered through the rotting wood but couldn’t see much of anything through it. Rhiannon looked at him.

  ‘I’ll bet there’s treasure in there, don’t you? Gold and diamonds. I’ll bet my lunch there are maps hidden in that room that will lead us to an alcove full of rubies and emeralds,’ she said, a hint of greed crossing her eyes.

  Rickert looked up at the roof hesitantly. ‘I don’t know if this is a good idea, Rhi. If someone catches us, we could be in big trouble.’

  ‘Oh, Rickert, no one has been here in ages. No one knows where we are, and besides, we are rulers of this great land. A prince and princess!’ Rhiannon took five steps back and ran toward the door as fast as she could, slamming into it with her shoulder. It barely budged.

  She turned to rub her shoulder. ‘Damn.’

  Rickert gasped. ‘That’s not one of our words. Noreadryyn would be displeased.’ He stared at Rhiannon, who immediately blushed.

  ‘Forgive me, Rickert. Our studies on humans are rubbing off on me. Hurry! Help me open this door,’ she said, urging him to her side. Then Rickert noticed something about the chains. There was no lock on them, and the chains were hanging on the handles loosely. The lock wasn’t even closed, just merely hanging there. He grabbed the chains and yanked them off, letting them fall onto the floor with a loud clunk. He turned the knob, and the door creaked open a little. Dust seeped through.

  Rickert coughed. ‘I don’t like this, Rhi. Something is not right.’ He took a step back.

  ‘Oh, come off it, Rickert.’ Rhiannon opened the door slowly and poked her head in, peering through the darkness. Rickert followed her close behind. Though only sixteen years had passed since the tower was closed off, it seemed like it had been decades. Old tomes and scrolls were stacked in piles around the large room. Bookcases lined the walls, cobwebs decorating them like giant grey curtains. A giant bronze ocular device in the centre of the room cast a shadow toward a dust-covered window where a dim ray of blue light peeked through. Dust rose at the children’s footfalls.

  ‘Halooo,’ Rhiannon cooed, glancing around the room for movement or any sign of life. When all she heard was the echo of her voice, she jumped. ‘Ha!’ She turned and threw her hands in the air jovially. ‘This can be our new secret place, Rickert. Just you and me, and no one else!’

  She threw her arms around her brother, who was still trying to accustom his eyes to the darkness of the tower. He was scanning the shadows, ignoring Rhiannon. She looked up into Rickert’s eyes and smirked. ‘Are you always going to be a wet blanket?’

  ‘I am not a wet blanket!’ he snapped, glaring down at her.

  ‘Oh? Did I strike a nerve?’ She put her fingers to her lips mocki
ngly.

  ‘Rhiannon, I think we should be leaving now. I sense something is off.’ Rickert sniffed the air and stared at the dark shadows cast by the ocular device.

  ‘But, Rickert—’

  ‘Don’t you but, Rickert me. I don’t like—’ His words died in his throat as a rustling emerged from within the shadows. Rickert instinctively threw Rhiannon behind him and stood tall.

  ‘Who’s there? Come out now,’ he barked, baring his teeth.

  A long and thin shadow poked out from the rest, wiry and menacing. Rhiannon gasped as a man in dark red robes stepped from behind the ocular. He laughed as he stood before the twins. His laughter sounded like the squeaking of rusted wheels—a stark contrast to Rhiannon's sparkling laugh from moments ago. Rickert didn’t recognise the man.

  ‘Visitors are prohibited in this place. State your name at once!’ Rickert couldn’t see the man’s face, but the robed stranger stopped and folded his hands in front of him.

  ‘Barred from visitors? So what would that make you?’ hissed the shadow. ‘Young ones should not be playing in forbidden areas.’

  ‘I am Prince Rickert Feldyr, and no place is forbidden if I say it isn’t,’ countered Rickert, standing tall against the man. ‘You, however, aren’t of the royal bloodline, so I suggest you leave immediately.’

  The shadow took a step toward Rickert. ‘I see no bodyguards, and Noreadryyn is still out there in the gardens searching desperately for you. You have the old bat of a tutor worried sick. She might die of a heart attack.’

  Rickert's eyes widened. ‘You were watching us.’

  ‘You twins are beautiful to observe,’ said the man with a white smile that pierced the darkness. All Rickert could see were the whites of his teeth. A feeling of horror fell on him. He wished Rhiannon had kept her knife. Perhaps he would be able to defend them from this assailant.