BY THE TIME they returned to their camp Stefan and Arlo were so exhausted they barely noticed they had only ferns for a mattress and rolled-up hoodies for pillows. They slept long and deep until the sun was over the ridge and had painted the forest in warming splashes of light.

Arlo woke with the familiar sense of dream fragments floating through his consciousness, something about a tunnel and a cage, and flying horses. It took him a full confused minute of looking about the weird bedroom to piece together the strange truth. Stefan stirred beside him, opening one eye and grunting before rolling over and then giving a small yelp of complaint as a twig pushed at his cheek. He sat up suddenly, his face a mixture of outrage and confusion. He stared accusingly at Arlo, as if all of this was his doing.

‘Where are we?’

‘Hiding out. Inside a tree. This is Alice’s camp. We came through the tunnel. Remember?’

It was clear that he did, for with every new detail his shoulders slumped a little further and his frown deepened.

‘I thought it was dream,’ Stefan said.

‘Yeah, me too. It isn’t.’

There was no sign of Alice. Apart from the sleeping bag, rolled up neatly beside them, it might have been possible to believe she had never been there.

She arrived on cue, slipping back through the gap, carrying all three of their water bottles. ‘Morning, boys. Who’s ready for a little competition?’

Stefan remembered a promise he had made himself, on the long walk back to camp, and shook his head in protest. ‘No. Not yet. First you tell us what is going on here. What was happening inside the tent, and why they’re holding your sister there, and how you plan to rescue her. Tell us everything, or we won’t help you.’

Alice shrugged. ‘Okay, come outside then, the sun’s up and it’s warmer there.’

They sat on a log beside the stream, watching the water dance itself into a froth as it rushed between two large rocks. Alice told them what she could. The tent hadn’t been there when she and Jackie had first arrived, and although the tunnel had started in exactly the same place, behind the ‘For Sale’ sign, when she’d passed through with Jackie it had come out at the headland, exactly where the tent now was.

‘I think what they’re doing up there has something to do with the tunnel. I think, if Mr Williams was right and there are no identical twins in this world, then when they saw us, they knew we’d come through a tunnel. So maybe they’re trying to find the tunnel, or close the tunnel, or…I don’t know. But I think it’s got something to do with that.’

‘Who are they, though, that they’d do something like that to your sister?’ Arlo asked. He wasn’t sure if it was all right to bring that up, whether it might upset Alice thinking about it, but he knew if it was him he’d already be thinking about it. It’d be the only thing he’d be thinking about.

Alice’s answer was short and direct. ‘I don’t know who they are, but if I ever have the chance, I’m going to make them pay.’

They had not known Alice long, but already both boys believed that she meant it.

Stefan coughed, the way he always did when he had something to say but wasn’t sure how to say it. ‘Um, what if it’s a trap? What if they expect you to try to rescue her? It would explain why they’re keeping her somewhere where it’s so easy for you to see her. What if they have some reason for wanting the two of you together?’

Alice nodded and, to Stefan’s relief, didn’t seem angry he’d suggested it. ‘I thought about that, and maybe it’s true, but it doesn’t matter. I have to try to rescue her. She’s my sister.’

‘And we will help you,’ Arlo said, in the strongest voice he could manage. He hadn’t thought that they might be walking into a trap, and the truth was it frightened him, but he’d seen the prisoner himself now, and had made her his own silent promise.

‘Thank you. I haven’t found out much about this world, but I do know that there is magic here, and the magic is strongest in the young. The guards who captured me were all my age. There is an elite force, called the Royal Guard, and they are made up of a small group of children who have exhibited the greatest control of their magic. It’s how they caught us, I think, by intercepting the messages we were sending each other. And they are up at the tent now, guarding the old tunnel entrance. I think Jackie might be there so they can watch the tunnel and the prisoner at the same time. And actually, that’s kind of how my plan works.’

Her eyes darted quickly away. There was no way her nervousness was a good sign. Alice stood up and walked away from the boys. She scuffed her foot in the dirt, then kicked a stone into the water. She turned back to them, but kept her distance, as if the gap between them might dilute the message, make it easier for them to swallow.

‘Each year there is a competition, held at the Academy, to find the most promising prospects to join the Royal Guard. I’ve overheard people talking about it in the streets. At this time of year, it’s just about the only thing they talk about. It is a battle of elimination, held over three weeks. They start with fifty specially selected kids, and by the end only five remain... And the competition starts today.’

Alice stopped, as if the rest was obvious. What’s she on about? Arlo silently asked. I don’t think we want to know, Stefan thought back.

‘Early this afternoon carriages from the Academy will move throughout the land picking up the contenders. There is a boy called Will who lives in the next valley. I have seen him training. His father is a bully who shouts and screams at him and tells him he isn’t trying. I’ve seen the look in that boy’s eyes. I recognise it. He will not be waiting for his carriage at the side of the road. I am sure of it. He intends to run away, and that means one of you can take his place.’

Alice stopped and looked at the boys. Arlo saw in her eyes how desperately she needed to believe there was a way forward.

‘That’s your plan?’ Stefan asked.

‘Yes, for now.’ It was the first time Arlo had seen Alice look even the slightest bit uncertain.

‘One of us takes the boy’s place,’ Stefan repeated slowly. ‘Enters the competition, is one of the successful five, joins the Royal Guard, and then—’

‘Frees Jackie.’ Alice hesitated. ‘Yes.’

Arlo could see the effect on Alice of hearing her plan spoken back to her. He had noticed it himself, the way things that felt perfect inside his head so often turned foolish and inadequate when spoken.

‘But, we…’ Stefan struggled to find which problem to explain first. ‘But…well, we’re not magic.’

‘Okay, well, I don’t think that’s true,’ Alice said, quickly finding her confidence again. ‘You can already talk to each other, inside your heads, right? And I think it’s how you got through the tunnel actually. I think you made the tunnel open. I think the thing about identical twins is that in this world, we’re powerfully magic.’

‘So you’re magic too, then,’ Stefan countered. ‘You should do it.’

‘I would, but Will’s a boy, and also, ever since Jackie’s been captured, I’ve lost whatever magic I had,’ Alice explained. ‘I’ve tried sending her messages and there’s nothing. And, when we first arrived, I discovered I could lift things, just by thinking them into the air. It was hard. I couldn’t lift much, just small stones or a twig, but I could do it. And now I can’t.’

‘Well maybe we can’t either,’ Arlo said.

‘Perhaps you can’t,’ Alice agreed. ‘So that’s why we need to test you.’

The test Alice proposed seemed ridiculous, but Arlo and Stefan agreed to go along with it. Hopefully she would see they had no magic and quietly drop her plan.

Alice used the rocks in the stream as stepping stones and crossed to the other side. She took two dead branches, each about the length of her forearm, and placed them side by side at her feet.

‘Now, all you have to do is concentrate on your own stick, Arlo this one’—she pointed to her left—‘and Stefan, this is yours. Use your mind to lift it into the air and bring it back to you. The first person to hold his stick in his hand without moving his feet is the winner. Go!’

Arlo wondered how long it would take Alice to realise neither stick would move. Stefan wondered whether the pressure of having lost her sister had made Alice go a little mad. Arlo, just for the fun of it, concentrated for a moment on his stick and thought, as directly and clearly as he could, Come on then, move. It was funny really—until the stick twitched. Alice yelped and gave a little skip of joy. Stefan, hardly able to believe his eyes, was determined not to be outdone. His little brother, younger by fifteen minutes, would not defeat him.

Stefan concentrated. Arlo grimaced. Stefan clenched his fists and swore at his stick under his breath. His stick twitched, as if it had been electrocuted. Stefan tried a new angle, silently pleading with his stick as if it were a reluctant child: Come on. You can do it. For me. There’s a good stick. Up, that’s right. Up!

The stick hovered off the ground, holding its position.

Now come to me. That’s right. Come to me.

But it wasn’t the stick doing the moving, he realised. What was lifting the stick was him imagining it was lifting. And so he closed his eyes and pictured, with all the force and detail he could muster, the stick rising up and moving towards him. He imagined the motion into being and held his hand out with the full expectation that the stick would arrive. And that is exactly what it did. It took him a moment to work out what this meant—he was too busy feeling pleased with himself for winning.

It was Arlo, grinning from ear to ear, who broke his bubble. ‘Guess you’re it.’ Arlo slapped him on the back. ‘So when does this carriage come?’

Another three hours, was the answer, enough time to pack a small canvas duffle bag Alice had stolen with a set of spare clothes (also stolen), and a selection of energy bars, removed from their wrappers so as to appear less otherworldly.

‘Remember, you will all be trying to outperform one another,’ Alice offered as her last piece of advice. ‘You don’t have to be polite in there. Politeness will get you into trouble. If you choose to keep to yourself and not engage with their questions, they will just think that is your strategy. Now come on, we have a runaway to intercept.’

They crouched in the bushes and watched the smoke curl up from the chimney of the cottage. A door slammed and a boy, about Stefan and Arlo’s age and size, emerged into the sunlight, a duffle bag slung across his shoulder. He waited a moment and was joined by a man who must have been his father, a large broad man with short cropped hair and a full beard.

‘Right then,’ the man’s deep voice carried along the valley. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to walk with you?’

‘If they see me with my father, they will think me weak,’ the boy replied. ‘I don’t want to start off that way.’

The father nodded and slapped the boy hard on his back. ‘Okay.’ He crouched, staring straight into his son’s eyes, hands on either shoulder. ‘And you will not be weak, boy? Do you understand me? You will not be weak.’

It was not an encouragement, but a threat, and the boy turned away, as if expecting the demand to be finished with a blow.

‘All right then, get out of my sight.’ The father straightened and sent the boy sloping on his way.

While the boy took the narrow path through the trees, Alice, Arlo and Stefan tracked him silently. Once he stopped and froze, as if aware he was being followed, but after looking around he put his head down and hurried on. When he reached a point where the pathway forked in two, he stopped again.

‘The left path takes him to the road, the right over to the next valley and away,’ Alice whispered. ‘Now watch.’

It was clear the boy had not yet decided which path to take. He breathed in deep, swept his toe in a slow arc in the dirt, looked to the sky, closed his eyes then nodded to himself and took the path to the right.

‘Okay, let’s go!’ Alice waved them on, and they broke cover together, rushing towards the path before the boy could run.

‘Hello!’ Alice called out. ‘Hello, Will!’

The boy turned to them with a look of horror on his face. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘Did my father send you?’

Up close they could see he was a thin boy, with a long forehead and a ragged scar along his jaw. His eyes were pale blue and his skin had the patchy appearance of one who easily reddens.

‘No.’ Alice shook her head. ‘My name is Alice and I have been watching you. I know you are planning to run away.’

‘What I’m planning to do isn’t any of—’

Alice raised her hand, her eyes kindly, her head slowly shaking. ‘We’re not trying to stop you. We want to help.’

The boy’s eyes narrowed with distrust. ‘Why would you want to help me?’ he asked.

‘Because you can help us,’ Alice replied.

Arlo marvelled at her easy confidence, at the way she could so quickly make her demand sound reasonable.

‘If you run away now, how long do you think it will be before your father will hear that a boy called Will never arrived at the Academy?’ she continued. ‘But don’t look so worried. This boy will take your place. Just give him whatever it is in your bag that the Academy asked you to pack. We will trade it for a sharp knife and three gottacakes. And your father will hear tales of his son competing strongly. This is Stefan and he is a powerful candidate. His efforts will give you a real chance to get away.’

‘Gottacakes?’

Of all the details of the deal, this was the one that caught Will’s attention. Arlo had no idea what such a thing might be, but thought this a poor time to ask.

Alice nodded and took out of her pocket a piece of thick brown paper. She unwrapped it carefully, revealing three small unremarkable-looking square slices.

The boy reached out cautiously and took a small crumb between finger and thumb. He sniffed it, then placed it carefully on his tongue. A smile spread across his face.

‘I won’t ask you where you got these,’ he said, ‘because you would only lie. But you have a deal. Take my bag. Everything is in there. I have stashed my runaway pack further down the track.’

Alice nodded her approval, from one runaway to another. ‘Good plan. Go well, Will.’

‘And good luck to you,’ Will said to Stefan. He turned and hurried quickly off, gottacakes in hand, bounding with a new purpose and energy.

‘What’s a gottacake?’ Stefan asked.

Alice smiled and fished into her other pocket, producing another package. ‘These three are for you. They carry magic with them. Put them in your bag. If ever you find yourself in desperate need of help, and you can see no other way of prevailing, eat one, but never more. Do you understand?’

Stefan nodded.

‘What about me?’ Arlo asked.

Alice grinned and said nothing.

Later, sitting in the shadow of a large tree and watching his brother stand lonely and nervous at the side of the road, Arlo felt Alice’s hand take his. In his palm she placed a small portion of the sticky cake, no bigger than a dollar coin. She smiled at him, as if she understood how hard it was for him to be separated from his brother. Arlo put the cake to his mouth and it immediately exploded with the most delicious sensation he had ever experienced, more delightful than any taste had the right to be. He felt it popping and fizzing, in his throat, his stomach and behind his eyeballs.

‘What is this stuff?’ he whispered.

‘Gottacake,’ Alice replied. ‘It’s a delicacy here, but it’s hard to come by. Most people never get to taste it. So you’re lucky.’

‘You’re an excellent thief, aren’t you?’ Arlo smiled.

‘Yes,’ Alice replied, pleased with the compliment. ‘Yes I am. Don’t worry about your brother, by the way. He’s a survivor.’

Stefan held up his arm as the carriage approached, half hoping the driver would ignore him and flick the horses on. But the carriage pulled up to a dusty stop and the driver, a large man with thick arms and a generous belly, leaned down from his seat to examine his passenger.

‘Name?’

‘Will,’ Stefan lied.

The driver’s eyes narrowed, as if checking some dark corner of his memory, and he nodded. ‘Hop in. You’re the last on this run so hold on tight.’

The carriage was a rough cart with a hooped iron frame over which canvas was stretched tight. Stefan moved to the back to climb in just as the carriage began moving. He was forced to run quickly, throwing his bag on board before reaching to the back board and pulling himself up. A pair of helpful hands grabbed at the back of his belt and hauled him in.

A small voice, nervous and distant, spoke gently inside his head.

Go well, brother. You’ll be fine.

Thank you, Stefan silently replied, hoping the words would find their way back to Arlo. A second later Stefan felt a warm calmness spread over his body, the same feeling he got when somebody hugged him, and he knew his message had been received.

Stefan looked around the cart. There was seven others, all about his age, dressed in the same rough clothes: hand-me-down trousers, some too big by three sizes, pinched in at the waist by string or tied together shoelaces, or a thin torn strip of material,shirts that were neither white nor coloured, just pale and grimy, and cloth caps. Some had their hair trimmed short above the ears, but others had grown theirs long, so that it bulged beneath their hats. They were seated on two bench seats running along either side of cart, so that there was nothing to look at but the floor or the person opposite. Stefan chose the floor. Small bursts of dust exploded through gaps in the boards as the horses gathered pace. Stefan felt suddenly small, like a solitary figure on a wide beach.

‘I don’t know you, do I?’ asked the boy opposite him. He had oddly pointed ears and a face full of freckles. He spoke quietly, as if he hoped to keep whatever information Stefan gave him just between the two of them.

Stefan shook his head, remembering Alice’s advice. The less he said, the better.

The boy nodded, as if respecting his decision. ‘Fair enough.’ He sniffed and turned his gaze to the back of the cart.

Next to him a second boy, taller than the rest, sat with straight back and still head and a mouth held only a curl away from a snarl. He ran his eyes over the newcomer.

Stefan caught his eye and immediately looked away. Too late.

‘You’ll be gone in the first round,’ the tall boy announced.

‘Maybe,’ Stefan muttered, immediately regretting opening his mouth.

The tall boy leaned forward, reaching across the open space and taking hold of Stefan’s leg, just above his knee, using his thumb and finger like pincers, and squeezed.

Stefan squirmed.

‘I tell you what. How about you and I have a little wager? If you are still there in the second round, I’ll give you an item of your choosing. But if you are gone, you leave me your boots.’

Stefan realised that all of the children in the cart were now looking carefully at his boots. Although too big for him, the boots Alice had stolen were far newer than any of the others. The laces were intact, there were no patches where the leather had worn through, or places where the sole had been roughly restitched to the upper.

‘All right,’ Stefan answered, wanting the conversation to be over and the focus shifted away from him. ‘You have a deal.’

‘But you haven’t named your price,’ the boy said. Too late Stefan understood what this was, a way of getting him talking, of making him divulge the thing he wanted. The boy was looking for his weakness.

‘If I’m still there,’ Stefan said, looking him in straight in the eye, as he knew Alice would have done, ‘you owe me a gottacake.’

At this the whole cart erupted in laughter, all except the tall boy, who scowled, certain he was being mocked.

‘Okay then,’ he said, pulling himself even straighter. ‘I can see you are too afraid to make a serious wager. But you have made a mistake today. You have made an enemy of me when you could have had a friend. You don’t know who I am, do you? You haven’t even done your research.’

Stefan shrugged and looked at the floor, hoping that something else would take the boy’s interest. The boy next to him gave him a friendly poke with his elbow.

‘That’s Malcolm Strawbridge,’ he whispered. ‘This year’s favourite. And a bully too, just like his sister was.’

‘Speak up, we’d all like to hear!’ Malcolm called out.

‘What we like, Malcolm, and what we get, are often very different things.’ The voice belonged to a girl. Stefan looked again at the passenger beside him. Her eyes were unusually blue, and when she smiled her eyebrows arched like two small rainbows.

There was silence then, as if the whole cart was holding its breath, silently calculating the next move. But then they moved as one, each tightly gripping the seat below them. Only Stefan was slow to react, and so found himself sliding into the girl as the horses and carriage rose into the air.

‘Sorry,’ said Stefan, struggling to pull himself back to his end of the seat.

The girl smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. ‘I’m Harriet.’

‘I’m Will,’ Stefan replied. He couldn’t guess at the things that lay ahead of him, but he was sure they would be easier with a friend.