The Twin Princes

by J. M. Topp

  Jolien grit her teeth and grabbed Eymeg’s broken halberd from his shoulder. She held the halberd point aimed at the owl. Her arms began to shake as she tried to hold the heavy crescent blade level. ‘What if I cut you down?’ asked Jolien. ‘Did you prophesy your own path ending here and now?’

  ‘I am not cursing you, Eymeg. I am warning you. A witch never changes the facts.’ The owl stared at Jolien. Then it fluttered its wings and flew from the window, leaving them alone in the tavern. Jolien turned around and handed the halberd to Eymeg.

  ‘Let’s leave,’ she said. ‘This place itself is a curse.’

  CHAOS REIGNED IN Floddenvale. The clashing of swords echoed beneath the rising sun. Eymeg spotted Rikfried leaning on a barrel, chewing on a reed. The balladeer touched his hat and glanced at Eymeg with a smile.

  ‘It seems the news of your massacre has already spread like wildfire, Eymeg,’ said Rikfried as he put his hands into his sleeves. ‘The tavern keeper bolted out and sounded the alarm. It seems they were part of some cutthroat organisation planning a coup. You, it seems, were the catalyst for their plans. The Aivaterrans are overrun.’

  Eymeg looked past Rikfried and saw two Aivaterran soldiers on the ground will blood pooling underneath them. A shout burst through the air, but Eymeg couldn’t understand the language.

  ‘You hear that? Pyoré Rifica,’ said Rikfried, rubbing his chin. ‘It means “kill the sparrows” in the olden tongue.’

  The sounds of swords clashing and the screams of death leapt into the midmorning sky. A boy ran into the street, staring up the road away from them.

  ‘Jolien, do you see what I see?’ asked Eymeg as he reached for his dagger.

  Jolien turned to the boy.

  ‘It’s that serf, Gosfridus,’ she said, pulling the dagger from Eymeg’s belt and running toward the boy.

  ‘Stop taking my weapons!’ said Eymeg, rushing after her.

  Gosfridus turned toward the commotion, and the blood rushed from his face. He turned to run away from Jolien but tripped on the body of an Aivaterran. He turned in horror as an angry Jolien rushed over to him and put a blade to his neck.

  ‘No, please!’ shouted Gosfridus, putting his hands in the air.

  ‘Oh shut the fuck up!’ said Jolien, but Eymeg quickly pulled her off the serf. He threw her to the ground, but she was too inflamed to notice. She stood up, but Eymeg snatched the dagger away from her hands and pushed her to the ground again.

  ‘Jolien, stop!’ Eymeg then turned to Gosfridus. ‘I thought I told you to go back to Duren,’ he said, putting his boot on the boy’s chest and pushing him into the dirt.

  ‘I did go back to Duren, but Rollo kicked me out of the chapel. He told me Duren has no place for the likes of me. They wanted to hang me. I have nowhere else to go!’

  ‘Don’t believe him, Eymeg. He’ll kill us!’ shouted Jolien, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Shut up, Jolien,’ snapped Eymeg, staring down at Gosfridus. ‘Here’s the deal, kid. You go north to Flodden and—’

  ‘Take me with you,’ Gosfridus said, interrupting Eymeg. His shoulders were shaking, but Eymeg could tell one thing: Gosfridus was scared enough to ask. Rikfried walked up behind them with hands still folded into his sleeves.

  Eymeg glanced back. ‘He wants to come with.’

  ‘I can see that. He’ll have to work for it. I did,’ said Rikfried.

  ‘I’ll do anything!’ shouted Gosfridus. ‘Just please don’t make me go back to Duren again.’

  Eymeg took his boot from the boy’s chest. Gosfridus leaned up and gave a worried glance to Jolien, who couldn’t turn any redder. Eymeg turned to her too but thought better of saying anything to her. A momentary pang of fear jumped up his spine. He turned to Rikfried, who shrugged. A fire glowed in Jolien’s eyes as she stared daggers at Gosfridus.

  ‘We are going to Aivaterra. We won’t be feeding you, and you will make your own fire, for your own sake, of course. You will get a knife in the gut otherwise,’ said Eymeg, motioning his head to Jolien. ‘Once there, you will disappear. I won’t see you ever again. Isn’t that right, kid?’

  ‘No, Eymeg—’ protested Jolien, but Eymeg held his hand up.

  ‘You are also going to piss right off once we enter the city, got it? This isn’t a fellowship.’ Eymeg snarled, pointing his finger at Jolien. She turned her brutally hateful gaze toward Eymeg. He ignored the seething woman and clenched his jaw, then walked to the stables of the Bell Keeper Tavern. Rikfried shrugged and followed him as Gosfridus picked himself up, dusted off his serf trousers and shirt, and rushed after them. Jolien finally picked herself up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Two destriers stood in the stalls, obviously belonging to the late Lord Fastolph and his men. Eymeg’s own thoroughbred whinnied at the presence of her master. Eymeg launched himself over his steed and grabbed the reins. Rikfried took the one beside him, and Jolien took the last one. Gosfridus hesitated as he looked at the riders and their mounts. Eymeg sighed and held his hand out to the serf. He pulled Gosfridus behind him onto the horse and slapped the reins, leading the ragtag posse out of the tavern stalls. Together they went down the path leading to Eyevetmere Crossing.

  They passed more dead Aivaterran soldiers on the path. The Weserithians were killing anyone wearing a blue uniform. Yet that wasn’t what bothered Eymeg. Women and even children lay in the dirt. Rikfried put a cloth to his face, and Jolien gagged behind them.

  ‘They killed anyone associated with the sparrows,’ said Gosfridus, glancing at the bodies. Eymeg kicked his mount in the side, spurring the mount into a gallop. When they reached Eyevetmere Crossing, there were two Aivaterran guard tents, but no one operated them. Eymeg and the others quietly walked through unchallenged. He looked back at the rising dust of battle in Floddenvale.

  ‘Ah, I can already smell the sweet wine from the taverns and the candied perfume from its brothels,’ said Rikfried, sniffing the air and letting out a sigh.

  Jolien remained silent, unable to even look at Eymeg.

  Bellicose Fires

  ‘WHERE THE FUCK did those creatures come from!?’ Hamlin burst into the room and slammed the double doors together. The flimsy wooden panels had come off in the tremors that shook the stone floors. Blood dripped from a cut on Hamlin’s forehead, and a handmaiden quickly grabbed a wet towel and put it on his cut as he sat down. Rebecca had been organizing a defence in a large hall near a broken throne made of marble. Humans bustled into the hall, some gathering swords, shields, and spears. Others were loading large oxcarts with everything the humans had come with. Men in mismatched armour, steel, and leather alike moved through the hall.

  Rickert had been staring into a corner of the room, but he didn’t know for how long. The human king’s outburst as he’d entered the hall shook him back to his senses. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders, and he realised he held a half-empty mug of watered ale in his hands. The pungent smell rose to his nostrils, and he threw the cup away from him.

  Rebecca sat hunched at a table with ten of Hamlin’s other men. They were speaking in hushed tones. Korhas, who had followed Hamlin in, had blood crusted on his cheek and neck, as well as a terrifying scowl on his face. He walked to the war table and let his bloodied broadsword fall to the floor with a clang.

  ‘Those pointy-eared bastards are regrouping. They will rush the hall any moment now,’ said Hamlin. The men around the table glanced nervously at Rebecca. Hamlin realised what he had said, but he did not apologise. ‘What was that thing? That serpent?’

  Rebecca sighed and rested her elbow on the hilt of her dagger. ‘A summoner spirit, Your Highness. Simply put, a pet the gods used in times of need. The elfen god Alestaeyn birthed them and gave them to the godhood of the firmament. This is the last summoner spirit, and I am afraid he is in danger. We have to attack the High Primarch and defend the spirit.’

  ‘What?’ Hamlin’s eyebrows crawled up on his forehead. ‘No! We are not going back. Coming to this place was a
mistake. We should never have left Eldervale.’

  Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Your Highness, there is no choice. If we return to the Eldervale in its current state, we have to face the daemon army on our own. We cannot do that. We have no option but to defend Ayagi.’

  ‘That’s its name?’ Hamlin sat at the table and shook his head. ‘The primarch, is he a summoner spirit too?’

  Rebecca bit her lip. ‘I do not know, Your Highness. I have never seen something like that happen before. I am afraid Morrenwylf was toying with magic beyond his reach. The beast must be defeated.’

  Hamlin shook his head. ‘No. I will not risk my people any longer. There is nothing for us in the north. We fight and retreat.’ He paused for a moment. ‘You have been good to us, Rebecca. We would not have made it through the mountains if not for your help. Your people, however, do not hold the same sentiment you do. I am sorry. We will take advantage of the moment and leave.’

  Rebecca stared at him for a moment and then glanced at Korhas. The tall, burly man let his eyes fall away. There was nothing the Lord of the Greenwood could do. Though Rickert sensed the fierce loyalty Korhas had toward Rebecca, he was still human. Rebecca grabbed her cloak, threw it over her shoulders, and walked away from Hamlin and his men, careful not to run into an oxcart being drawn away out into the streets.

  Rickert looked on as Rebecca left the hall. A young boy sat at the table, giving Rickert strange looks. Suddenly the boy stood up, and the prince realised he was not a boy at all. His chest was rather large, but his face had no signs of hair growing on it, unlike the other men of the Band of the Belligerent.

  The beardless man stood up, unsheathed a small dagger at his side, and pointed it at Rickert's face. ‘We can take him,’ he said, licking his lips. Hamlin glanced at Rickert and then let out a sigh.

  ‘Sheathe your weapon, Petyr. The high primarch himself wanted the elf dead. He is no use to us, even as a hostage,’ said Hamlin. The boy named Peytr smirked at Rickert and, spitting on Rickert’s shoes, sheathed his weapon. He then returned to his king and the men around him.

  Rickert only stared, not saying a word. Suddenly, a piercing pain made him jump. He looked down to see a drop of blood dribble down his forearm. He let the blanket fall from his shoulders, and he wiped the blood away. Just then, another sharp pain on his skin drew blood.

  ‘Rhi,’ he whispered. He stood up and glanced at the humans around the table. They were absorbed with their defence and escape plans. He spied a dagger by a pile of belongings. Rickert grabbed the small weapon, stepped away from the grand hall, and pushed the door open, slipping through it. He nearly stepped on a dead man. The man had crusted blood on his face and a broken spear in his back. He seemed to have been dead for a while, judging by the drying pool of blood beneath him.

  Rickert could hear the marching of armoured feet in the distance, but a cloud of fog hung over the streets. He could no longer hear the monstrous screams anymore, and he wondered what had happened to the serpent and the wolf-like beast. His eyes caught the outline of a woman with blue hair.

  ‘Rebecca!’ he shouted, running after her, but the assassin didn’t hear him. He clenched his teeth and looked at his hand. A third piercing of his flesh made him wince. Three dots in the form of a triangle stood out in the palm of his hand. He stopped and stared at the markings. At that moment, he knew where Rhiannon was.

  The sounds of armoured elfen marching grew louder. Rickert peered through the fog to see a wall of elfen in golden armour carrying spears and great shields. A horn sounded from within the destroyed hall. Rickert sprinted away from the wall of armoured elfen. He had to run to the Chloranthy Terrace Gardens.

  TORCHES LIT THE lush green grounds of the Chloranthy Terrace Gardens. The wide, tall trees had been decorated with lace and crystal droplets. Rickert dropped into the gardens from the tall wall and hid in the bushes. He heard a faint laugh. He would recognise that laugh anywhere. ‘Rhiannon?’

  He poked a hole in the bushes and peered through the dense greenery. The sight made his throat close up. Rhiannon sat by the blue pool, one foot in the water. Luminous fish zipped through her toes, and she laughed like she hadn’t a care in the world. Rickert was astounded.

  ‘Rhiannon!’ he said, and from the shadows, five bodyguards surrounded her. Rickert recognised one of them.

  ‘You are the one who broke my hand,’ said Rickert. ‘You are Theyllyn.’

  ‘Ah, so that bitch told you my name. I will drain her blood from her body drop by drop. She will rue the day she cut me,’ hissed Theyllyn. ‘But you will die first. I promise I will be more merciful on you, dear prince.’

  Rickert held the small dagger before him. Theyllyn froze.

  ‘Ah, so the prince has balls. I would never have thought.’

  Rickert clenched his teeth. ‘Draw your weapon, you human filth. That way I won’t feel so bad gutting you.’

  Theyllyn laughed. ‘Do you even know how to use that thing? Tell you what: I will let you have the first blow.’ Theyllyn walked to stand before Rickert and put his hands behind his back. ‘I want you to strike, anywhere on my body, and you’d better strike true, because I guarantee you, I will kill you after that.’

  Rickert hesitated. The elfen behind Theyllyn chuckled as they observed the strange spectacle. Rhiannon silently stared at Rickert.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, dear elfen prince,’ said Theyllyn, his yellow teeth shining in the night. ‘C’mon!’

  Rickert jabbed at Theyllyn, piercing the hauberk on his side. Theyllyn’s smile faded as a trickle of blood dripped down the blade. He slapped Rickert hard with a gauntleted hand, sending the elf to the ground with a bloodied nose. Rickert’s head swam, and he couldn’t see clearly, but he could hear a faint chuckle.

  ‘Ah, very good. If I hadn’t been wearing mail, you may indeed have gutted me. I didn’t think you had it in you. Well, enough fun. I will kill you now.’

  Suddenly, Rebecca leapt from the bushes and crouched before Theyllyn, drawing two serrated silver blades. The sawed edge of the sabres gleamed in the moonlight. She slashed the air around Theyllyn, but he dodged every blow. He leaned back and drew his shortsword.

  ‘There you are!’

  Rebecca crouched low to the ground. The elfen behind Theyllyn surrounded Rebecca, but Theyllyn motioned them off. ‘You have no backup. Korhas is with King Hamlin mounting a defensive. You realise you are surrounded, don’t you?’

  Theyllyn held his sword out to Rebecca and glared at her. ‘Do you know how many times I wanted to cut you while you slept in that track? I should have, but it wasn’t good enough. I wanted you to know that I was the one who killed you.’

  ‘You’re sick, did you know that, Theyllyn?’ asked Rebecca, clenching her fists.

  ‘I loved you!’ shouted Theyllyn. ‘Couldn’t you see that?’

  ‘You have a strange way of showing it.’

  ‘I would have been nice to you. I would have given you everything you ever wanted. My family is rich in Alder Isle. You would have been taken care of. Instead, you scorned me and sliced my throat.’

  ‘You tried to rape me!’ shouted Rebecca. Her face turned red, contrasting with her braided blue hair.

  ‘You would have enjoyed it had you given me a chance.’ Theyllyn licked his lips.

  Rebecca laughed and stood up. ‘Maybe I should have let you. I mean it’s not like I would have felt anything, right? Does that pecker of yours even work anymore? Maybe I should have cut that instead.’

  ‘You bitch,’ grunted Theyllyn, his eyes becoming thin slits.

  ‘Fuck you!’ Rebecca sprinted toward him and swung both her blades upward. Theyllyn blocked one blade with the tip of his sword and then turned, dodging the second one. He set his left foot back and, with all his might, swung sideways beneath Rebecca’s belt. Rebecca doubled back and, using the upward momentum of her attack, dug her blades behind her and lifted herself from Theyllyn’s blows, her feet scissoring in the air and kicking his chin as she pushed he
rself into the air. She landed and again crouched into the grass. Theyllyn held his chin as blood spurted from his teeth. He laughed and then smiled, showing his bloodied mouth.

  ‘You can do better, can’t you?’ He laughed.

  Sweat began to collect on Rebecca’s brow.

  ‘While in our flight from Eldervale, I have to admit, I was a little under the weather, but here, the air is much lighter and full of energy. Can you feel it? I feel as if the world is mine!’ Theyllyn shouted into the sky.

  Rebecca sprang like a coiled snake. She spun, but just before she reached Theyllyn, he grabbed her left hand, stopping her flurry of blows. In three successive strikes, he sliced her left flank, her shoulder, and her wrist. One of her blades fell onto the grass. Rhiannon screamed for them to stop. Theyllyn laughed cruelly.

  ‘My turn,’ said Theyllyn as he put his blade on Rebecca’s throat. The knife sliced through her flesh slowly. Her eyes widened as blood spilt from her throat and mouth. She coughed as her legs went limp.

  ’No!’ shouted Rickert. He raced toward Theyllyn and plunged the knife into the same place he had struck before. This time the mail gave way, and the dagger cut into Theyllyn’s gut. The scarred man didn’t let go of Rebecca, however.

  ‘You fucking whore—’ began Theyllyn, but then, Rebecca plunged her blade into his throat. Theyllyn’s eyes became wide discs, and he fell onto his knees. Rebecca pulled Theyllyn’s sword from her throat and drove her blade into his chest. She pulled the knives from him, and before his body could fall onto the grass, she swung her blades sideways and cut his head clean off.

  Rebecca fell to her knees and put her hand to her throat, gurgling and coughing. She pulled a bandage from her belt, but she had already lost too much blood. She fell onto the grass beside Theyllyn. Blood began to pour from her open throat. Rickert jumped to her side. The elfen soldiers hadn’t made a move during the altercation, simply staring at the events unfolding before them. Rickert ignored them and took the bandage from Rebecca’s hands. He turned her to her side and put pressure on her throat.