When Twins War: Book I

by Ryan Peter

  *

  Two days had passed after Garth discovered the exit of the caves. Within this time he wandered and drifted around the rock clefts and ate locusts and lizards. His thoughts were scattered and empty, his mood dark and foreboding, his spirit split and torn. Every day he felt as if something was haunting him, but he wandered in delusion.

  He knew that he was also searching for something; that he was searching for what his Lord wanted. When the thought of his new Lord came to his mind, he did not understand what it meant or why he was even thinking of such things. There were moments when he felt quite normal and would get up with his mind clear – planning how he could return to Chronalia or find the nearest water supply he knew from his maps. Then he became delirious and realised if he did not find water soon he would die. Then there were moments when thoughts of death encouraged him and times when he was perplexed at his lack of ability to do anything except wander. Fear ruled his spirit, even though there were also times of morbid delight when he thought of his new master. But he couldn't decipher what it all meant.

  In the afternoon he stumbled across a half-devoured and rotting body of a man that he thought he recognised. Immediately he was overwhelmed by delight at the death of a man – and was, at the same time, perplexed at his delight, finding himself walking away from the accursed place and then finding himself staring at the body again. He eventually curled himself up in a small crag in a tiny cave, waiting for death. He thought of praying for it, but the idea of praying hurt him deeply. He simply lay still.

  Then he heard a laugh; a scratching, vexing laugh provoking him.

  “He he he.” It sounded as if it was scraping the back of it's own throat. “He he he.” He looked up with anger but his body was so weak he couldn't even act on his emotions. “He he he.”

  A strange and loathsome creature, huddled up in a ragged brown hood cloak and wearing black leather shoes, was hobbling towards him. It had a big nose, flat and large as a pig's snout, and eyes as big as half a man's fist, oily and dark as they fixed on him. Its dry pale white skin was spotted with leprous, whiter spots. It seemed to Garth to be some sort of goblin and he wondered if death had finally come.

  “Foul creature,” he said to it.

  “He he he,” its throat rasped. “I would say the same to you.”

  It lifted the hood off its head. White and thin hair hung down the side of its hateful face. In a sickly left hand, with chipped and grungy fingernails, it held a small dagger.

  “Make haste on your killing,” Garth sneered. “My thoughts corrode my spirit, and I no longer wish to live.”

  “That's how it is,” it scoffed. “But even though I do, indeed, desire to devour on your flesh, I am here to bring you your first commandment.”

  Garth suddenly found it more difficult to breathe. Mad thoughts flashed through his mind: he had sworn allegiance! And he wanted more pleasure, more power, more than anything!

  But what pleasure? What power? He was muddled again. Then a dark and strong Will filled his mind and his heart.

  “The master has sent me, yes. As you hoped,” cackled the creature.

  Garth just stared at it, his mind zoning into himself and forgetting all that was around him. Everything else seemed to be worthless. One thing mattered: his power, his control.

  “Speak now then, you repulsive creature,” he said in a deep voice that he didn't recognise.

  “Yes, indeed, you are Becoming every day. Your first commandment is simple. And with it, comes great power.” The creature approached him and put the point of its dagger on his frontal lobe. He suddenly felt his hands turn cold, as if they had been dipped into ice.

  “Blessed now with power,” it rasped. Up close, the smell of its mouth reminded Garth of a thousand bogs. His throat lumped. He loathed the creature deeply as it continued speaking: “The High One – he will provide you with transport and all you need. For he is merciful, yes, and felt it right to give you life. Yes, that you should still live and serve him forever. That is the first part of his commandment.”

  “Yes, my lord is merciful,” said Garth. His voice still sounded foreign to him. He struggled to escape from this case he felt himself trapped in, as if his mind was trapped in his skin. His mind was all there was left of him – and not his entire mind. Only a bit. It felt as if he was looking through someone else's eyes.

  “The second part of the commandment is this,” said the creature. Its grim teeth gave Garth the impression of rotting bones. Indeed, even its movements were rigid as a carcass. “Go to that king of the valley lands and use him against them. It is our master's will to see all the lands bow before his rule. The king of the valley lands will play easily into your hands, for you have been gifted with power from the High One. You are to poison his mind and use your power to have him send an army to destroy the Dernium warriors travelling through his own lands. Do you understand?”

  Garth thought for a moment. “Travelling through his own lands?” he asked.

  “Yes,” answered the creature. “They have decided to travel west, and take the Foré road to the cursed Twins. Do not let them continue. The king of the valleys is becoming rash and more fearful by the day as we work amongst him. Now it is time to strike the valleys completely, and make way for the chains to be broken. Yes, for it is now Becoming as it was to be.”

  “I understand.”

  The creature took out a waterskin from under its cloak. Garth felt sick as he considered drinking from it. Its mouth curled and twisted as it spoke. “Your pitiful weaknesses are too much for the Highest – yet he still uses you. Here is water. The High Divine will give you transport in the morning. Your commandments are given. Be sure, Man – for that is all you are - to follow them closely. You must prove and justify yourself to our Lord. Afterwards he will reward you with the pleasure of pleasures. All your loves shall become true.”

  Garth frantically grabbed the waterskin as the filthy creature departed from him, laughing, mumbling and rasping to itself. He did not drink too much, just enough. He crept back up into the rock.

  His thoughts did not give him rest. But he longed for rest. And he longed for power. But, as per the commandment, he would wait for the morning.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN