“AH,” RANULF SAID WITH A TWISTED SMILE. “MORWID’S young protector. Where are your companions, boy?”

Raven crept soundlessly into the trees. Dirk in hand, Lira moved into the circle of firelight and stood beside Thorn. “Here I am, Father.”

Ranulf’s hard gaze rested first on Lira, then on Thorn. The Northman made a small sound that might have been a laugh, but it died in his throat. Thorn saw the flicker of apprehension in his father’s eyes and remembered the old woman at March’s inn who had been certain that twins portended evil.

He is afraid of us! Without thinking, Thorn sent this silent message to his twin and saw her nod in response.

“Well,” Ranulf said, recovering himself. “It’s the runaway sorcerer and the secret prince. It has been many a year since I saw you, Lira. I thought you dead by now. Tell me, have you cast any spells lately? Any circles of flame? Or has life with that prune-faced abbess dried up all your skills?”

“What do you want?” Thorn asked angrily. Seeing Ranulf again reminded him of the vicious attack on his teacher. Thorn could almost smell Morwid’s skin burning beneath the cautery iron.

“Why, the amulet, of course. And do not bother to deny you have it. I followed you from the cave yestereve and watched you swim the lake to get it.”

“When we met upon the trail the night you attacked Morwid, you did not know me,” Thorn said. “Do you recognize me now, Father?”

“Don’t you dare use that name with me!” Ranulf bellowed. “I renounce kinship to both of you, so doubly cursed. Born of a treacherous queen and on a night when the sky was red as blood.”

“You are the treacherous one,” Thorn and Lira said together.

Ranulf paled but went on. “When I first learned there were two of you, I nearly beheaded the dwarf for telling such a preposterous tale, but he soon convinced me it was true.”

At that a familiar voice floated in from the trees. “Oh, my sovereign, my honored king. You give me too much credit. Too much credit indeed.”

“Baldric!” Lira cried.

“One and the same.” The dwarf shuffled out of darkness leading a magnificent white horse. He bowed to the twins. “Ranulf was more than happy to meet my price for the dream potion and to give me this fine mount in the bargain. But when I told him where I saw you last, it was easy enough to discover your trail.” He giggled and rubbed his hands together. “Soon he will have the amulet, and I shall be on my way to the kingdom my heart has long desired.” He stroked the horse’s head. “And in fine style, too. No more swinging through the trees for me. At last everyone will be happy. Well, not you two, of course, but—”

“Be quiet, you fool!” Ranulf’s eyes glittered in the light. “Hand over the amulet, Thorn.”

“I do not have it,” Thorn said.

“Then we shall unearth every tree and stone to find it.” Ranulf put his fingers to his lips and gave a piercing whistle. Instantly two other Northmen entered the clearing. Thorn recognized Trevyn and Olfar, the king’s guards.

Olfar, the younger and shorter of the two, strode over to Thorn. “You are the arrogant little upstart who sent me over the cliff nearly to my death. I must admit, though, that Morwid taught you well the value of surprise.”

“Morwid!” Ranulf spat the word as if it were a curse. “The world is better rid of that babbling lunatic.”

Morwid lives! Thorn wanted to shout. But his mentor had also impressed upon him the value of silence. Better to let Ranulf think his attack on the old warrior had succeeded.

Olfar placed the cold, hard tip of his sword against Thorn’s neck. “Where is the amulet?”

“Tell him nothing, Thorn!” Lira cried.

“Quiet, girl!” Trevyn grabbed her, tossed her dirk away, and held her fast.

Lira kicked his shins and jabbed his ribs with her elbows. “Let go of me!”

Baldric lurched about the clearing, ransacking their pouches, upending their packs, shaking out their cloaks. “The amulet must be here.”

“Stop, you idiot!” Ranulf cried. “Even Thorn is smart enough not to leave so valuable a thing in plain sight. We’ll have to search this wood from top to bottom.”

“In the dark?”

“Make a torch, you dunderhead. Over there by that boulder lies a sturdy branch. Bring it here.”

Thorn watched in growing fear as Baldric pushed past him and approached the boulder where the amulet lay hidden. He tried to slow his breathing lest Olfar sense his fright and discern the truth. His eyes sought Lira’s. Shouldn’t they try to cast some spell to stop the dwarf? But Lira couldn’t escape Trevyn’s iron grasp. Thorn silently mouthed “Raven?” and Lira answered with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

“Oh, my king, come quick!” Baldric shouted. “I have found something.”

Thorn’s shoulders slumped as Ranulf stalked to the boulder and peered into the deep crevice.

“By my bones!” the Northman said, drawing the jeweled amulet from its hiding place. “’Tis the missing sun at last, and it is even more magnificent than I dreamed.” He held it up for the guards’ inspection. “’Tis said its brilliance is dazzling enough to make even the darkest night turn bright as day. Now we’ll see whether those claims be true.”

He held the amulet to the firelight, turning it this way and that, but nothing happened. He strode over to Thorn. “What magic releases its power?” he demanded. “Speak quickly, boy, for I am weary and out of patience.”

“I do not know,” Thorn said truthfully.

Then Olfar shoved Thorn toward Ranulf just as Baldric planted himself firmly between the Northman and the young prince.

“Wait!” Baldric cried to Ranulf. “I have kept my part of the bargain. You have the amulet. Now I would have my gold coins and the map to the peaceful kingdom.”

Ranulf rocked back on his heels and laughed. “The peaceful kingdom! You imbecile! Do you not know such a place is made only of wishes and dreams? Now, get out of my way.”

“But, but. . . ”

Enraged, Baldric stomped so hard on the king’s foot that Ranulf bellowed, grabbed his foot, and dropped the glittering amulet. Olfar’s sword clattered as he pushed Thorn aside and grabbed the sputtering dwarf.

“Put me down this instant!” Baldric yelled. The Northman laughed and held him at arm’s length. The dwarf’s feet churned in the air before Olfar let go and Baldric tumbled to the ground.

Thorn dived for the amulet and snatched it up just before Trevyn threw Lira aside, drew his sword, and rounded on Baldric. But Ranulf, with a terrible, casual swiftness, plunged his own sword deep into Baldric’s chest. Lira screamed. The bloodied dwarf gasped and lay still. Then through the trees came the neighing of horses and the dull clank of heavy armor. A voice shouted, “Left flank, ready?”

“Ready!” came the answer from the opposite direction.

“What is this?” Ranulf spun around in the clearing, his shimmering red cloak fanning the campfire’s dying embers.

“Right flank, ready?”

The two guards rushed to their king, poised for battle. “We are surrounded, Your Majesty!” Olfar cried. “Why, there must be an entire army out there.”

“I told you we should have brought our own men,” Trevyn said. “But you said ’tis only a boy we are after and—”

“Silence! Both of you!” Ranulf growled. “Go and see what army is out there, and come back here at once.”

Trevyn and Olfar rushed into the forest. Ranulf, his own weapon still dripping with Baldric’s blood, rounded on Thorn. “Give me the amulet.”

In a trice Thorn looped the bejeweled chain over his head and held the crystal sun close to the firelight, hoping the amulet would indeed release its powerful light. But nothing happened.

Bewildered, he yelled to Lira, “It’s useless. Run!”

Lira scooped up her dirk, tucking it into her tunic as they fled the clearing. Thorn grabbed her hand and they raced through the trees, leaping small boulders, twisting and turning in the darkness. Behind them came Ranulf, brandishing his bloody sword, his breath coming in hot gusts as he closed the gap between them.

Deeper into the forest the twins ran, until Lira tripped on a huge root and they both tumbled to the ground. Thorn lay breathless in the thick undergrowth, overcome with disappointment. Everything he had endured during his long and difficult quest seemed for naught. And now his own father was out for blood. For the first time Thorn wondered about Morwid. Did the old warrior truly believe in the Book of Ancients and its prophecies of princes and comets, or had he simply grown tired of Thorn and tricked him into embarking on a fool’s errand?

“Thorn!” Ranulf shouted. “You may as well come out, for I will not leave until I have the amulet.”

Lira removed the crystal necklace Thorn had noticed the morning he and Raven scaled the garden wall in search of bloodrose and balsam.

“Thief of light that goes by night—” she began.

“Shall with its twin restore the right,” Thorn finished.

“Aye! The bard must have meant the moon!” Lira whispered. “It makes no light of its own, but takes its radiance from the sun.”

Lira handed Thorn her necklace. “If we put the two halves together, sun and moon, perhaps then the amulet will work.”

Half then whole, Thorn thought. His fingers trembled as he placed the bejeweled crystal sun next to Lira’s moon. There was a small click as the two halves came together.

“Ah! There ye be!” Ranulf crashed through the thicket and fell upon the twins. Swords and dirks clattered as Lira and Thorn fought him, turning this way and that, crouching behind boulders and trees, struggling to escape. Lira slashed their way through a tangle of vines, startling a flock of night birds, which rose and circled, calling in the dark. Then Olfar surprised them from behind and, with one savage thrust of his dirk, slashed Thorn’s leather doublet and sent him sprawling into the dirt. Thorn felt blood soaking through his tunic. He rolled onto his back.

A moment later Ranulf was bending over Thorn, one meaty hand on his sword, the other grasping the amulet. Thorn could not have said just where he got the courage to spit in Ranulf’s eye, an act so bold and unexpected that the Northman flinched and momentarily lowered his sword.

That single moment was all the time Thorn needed. He twisted away, leapt to his feet, and held the amulet aloft. “Thief of light that goes by night shall with its twin restore the right!” he yelled. “Sun and moon, upon this hour, descend with all your fearsome power!”

Then the entire forest blazed with a dazzling, unearthly brilliance that sent the Northmen to their knees. Olfar screamed and covered his eyes. Ranulf’s hand trembled so furiously his sword slipped from his grasp and thumped into the dirt. He blinked and turned his face away, but the light held him fast, as surely as if he were in chains.

While Thorn grasped the shimmering amulet, Lira picked up their father’s sword and stood beside her twin, pride and triumph shining in her eyes. Pointing the sword at the two Northmen, she said, “What shall we do with them, my prince?”

One blow from the sword, Thorn thought, and Ranulf would be dead and no longer a threat to Kelhadden. The deaths of countless countrymen, King Warn’s shameful defeat, and Morwid’s long, hard exile all would be avenged. But Thorn could not repeat the evils of his father, could not claim the throne with blood on his hands. “Tie them up,” he said. “We will take them back to our camp.”

And so, with the Northmen’s own ropes, Lira bound both Ranulf and Olfar and linked them together at their waists. When Thorn bent to help her secure the knots, the king sneered. “Kill me if it pleases you. I would rather die a soldier’s death than live a single moment as your captive.”

“I will decide later what to do with you,” Thorn said. “For now, I must find Raven.”

They wound their way back through the forest, Thorn in the lead. Ranulf and Olfar, muttering vengeful oaths, shuffled along in their ropes behind him, and Lira brought up the rear.

No sooner had they regained the campsite than Trevyn burst into the clearing carrying an awkward bundle over his shoulder. “There was no army in that wood,” he began hurriedly, “only a miserable urchin rattling our own horses’ harnesses with his . . . ”

Trevyn’s voice trailed away at the sight of his king and countryman in ropes. He drew his broadsword and advanced toward Thorn, but Olfar yelled, “Stay back, unless you wish to join us. The amulet works only for the upstart princeling and his witch sister.”

Trevyn stopped and called to Ranulf, “What happened, my lord?”

“What happened?” Ranulf bellowed. “We have been bested by these two evil ones and their dark magic. Had I known they were twins on the night of their birth, I would have drowned them both like stray cats and spared ourselves this trouble.”

“Which is exactly why Mother sent Thorn to live with Morwid!” Lira said. “It seems you’ve been outsmarted yet again, Father!”

“Well, this one will not give you any more trouble,” Trevyn declared. “He’s dead.” So saying, he dumped his bundle onto the ground.

A strangled cry escaped Thorn, a howl of rage that filled the wood.

“Raven!”