The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  The days were short during the winter months, and although the air was only cool not cold this far southwest of the mountains, there was a considerable nip to it. Cairn wished to travel quickly, but he had no desire to take unnecessary risks and attempt to penetrate the forest during the evening hours. His plan was to proceed eastward until he reached the border town of Pardeau, about four days jog, and then to go northward through the Forest of the Winds, and then on to the feet of the Thorndars. He would have to cross Lake Tamaran first, though, as soon as he emerged from the woods, and the thought of that did not amuse him.

  The lake was a treacherous body of water, perhaps the deepest in the known world, and it could only be crossed during the evening hours when the Selgays were asleep. Sometimes referred to as the guardians of the lake, the Selgays were the giant bird-like beasts who made their homes in the large crevices of the sheer walls of the Thorndars surrounding the lake to the north. They attacked mercilessly, and they craved flesh. Their beaks were sharp as razors, and their claws were long, hard and honed on the rocks to lance-like tips. The talons were barbed, and when a Selgay grabbed its prey, like a fish on a hook, the more it struggled, the deeper the wound became and the more damage it did.

  No one ever escaped a Selgay attack. They seldom traveled with companions, though, so that if you ever encountered one, you could be almost certain that there were no others anywhere near. The Selgays fought bitterly and savagely amongst themselves over territory and they preferred to hunt alone. That was of little comfort to Cairn as he anticipated the long and arduous trip across the length of the lake during the pitch of night. He had four days to march in peace before he would need to really begin to worry.

  After four relatively eventless days of keeping up a steady jogging pace, sleeping on his mat amidst the fragrant meadow grasses at night and thinking about the days to come, Cairn broke his stride and began to walk along a well-worn path that started about one hundred yards before the tall grasses of the fields of county Pardeau began.

  There was very little evidence that anyone was living anywhere near here. The grasses were uncut, the fields unplowed, and as far as the eye could see, there were no buildings of any kind. Cairn hummed a comforting tune to himself as he ambled down the path, thinking intently about the opportunity he would soon have to impart whatever knowledge he could to the boy. He was gratified that he could be involved in this prodigious undertaking. To be able to be of assistance, of whatever kind, was an honor.

  As he continued to walk, the path narrowed and the grasses increased in height. He was now totally unable to see above them and he had to follow the trail, however indirectly it proceeded. Calyx had been absent from his side for some time presently, as was quite normal, and he paid it little mind. Cairn never questioned how his friend arrived at the same destination as he did without taking the apparent route. Yet, arrive he always did, and Cairn took it for granted that he did so with more knowledge of the terrain than Cairn himself obtained by traveling the direct route.

  The grasses, perhaps seven feet in height at this point, were dense and emerald green, shimmering and clicking in the wind as they bumped into one another. The path widened and straightened out as he came around a sharp bend, playing tricks with his sense of direction. His hearing was sharp from years of living apart from the harsh sounds of the cities, and he was sure he could distinguish human voices in the distance.

  With caution Cairn continued down the path, not wanting to stumble into a group unannounced, looking as foreign as he must with his tied up robes and shaven head. Aware of his appearance and how it could be disconcerting to the country folk in this area, he silently approached the sounds in the distance. As he came close enough to the group, and a group it certainly was for he could clearly hear at least six or seven different voices seemingly arguing with one another, he kept close to the grasses bordering the sides of the path.

  “I do not know why we were given these instructions, but follow them we must if we are to keep our jobs!” Cairn heard one of the men say in a heavy Pardeauan accent.

  As he inched his way around the final bend, Cairn stepped into the grass just a bit in order to keep himself concealed while catching a glimpse of the crowd ahead.

  “It goes against me to do so, Petro. I cannot detain a man just because he is a stranger. Our town has always welcomed travelers,” a barrel-chested, tall man with a red beard responded.

  “I do nay want strangers coming to my town no more!” said another short man with long tangled hair and high, muddy boots. “I need to protect me own. Me wife and child is scared ‘nuf these days.”

  “Travelers are still welcome and always will be!” the man called Petro responded. “But, we have to be careful now. Mayor Steed has been told by the councilor to keep vigilant. I do nay know what they expect to come here, but they are mighty worried.”

  A fourth man, burly and silent up until now, spoke up with determination. “I trust not this councilor. He has our timid little mayor running around scared like a mother cackle bird who lost its babes. Why should we listen to this foreigner? Where did he come from anyway?”

  “Trevor speaks the truth!” another man chimed in. “Where did he come from? We here never needed outlanders to help us run our business. He just appears one day and then is gone and we now have a new boss? Strange times are surely upon us, and I do nay like the feel of them.”

  “Borland is right. Ever since this outlander showed up in our town things is turned topsy-turvy. ‘Strangers’ as he calls ‘em, have kept us alive for many a year with their trade and travel needs,” said Constant the farmer. “If I am to feed me kiddies and pay me taxes, I needs to sell me grain elsewheres. Are you going to buy it all from me, Petro?”

  “Nay, I cannot, Constant,” he replied, shaking his head and toeing the ground petulantly. “But there is truth to the warnings.” “Worse things may come of this than too few business partners, I fear,” Trevor added.

  “I do nay want trouble. We were told just to hold them up for a bit, not to harm anyone. I say we do as we been told,” a dark eyed and sinister looking man named Marto retorted.

  “I do nay like to be told by anyone how to do things, let alone some pale-skinned, slimy messenger boy from the south!” Borland exclaimed with finality.

  “You defy him and you will bring evil things down upon us all. I swear to you Borland, I will nay allow it. Trouble is as trouble does, and trouble is coming. I do nay want to be in its way when it reaches here,” the short, bearded man retorted.

  “You will nay allow it? And how do you propose to stop me from aiding whomsoever I choose? You have always been a coward, Gumley, and I would nay have expected more from ye.”

  Marto raised his staff in front of Borland, and as the lines were being drawn amongst the parties present with a nasty fight seemingly inevitable, Petro smacked the hilt of his broadsword against the lone tree trunk in the clearing.

  “Enough now!” he exclaimed. “There’s no sense in fighting amongst ourselves. We can nay decide the matter here with our tempers red hot. Borland! You take Trevor and farmer Constant back to the town center and wait for us there. The rest of us will finish our scouting watch and meet you there an hour after the sun is down. We can sit at Parla’s and talk this over later. Some good ale and one of her peppered hens will ease these tensions, I suspect.”

  “OK Petro, if you say so I will. But you can nay get me to go against my better judgment here and change me ways,” Borland said, glaring at Marto.

  As Borland left with the others, it was easy for Cairn to determine that however good the intentions of some of the men might be, if he entered the town now, then his journey would surely be delayed. Something was going on here, that was certain. The town of Pardeau had always been known as a haven for travelers!

  Some pale-skinned messenger boy from the south? Cairn repeated to himself. The southerners so rarely travel this far north. Cairn sensed trouble here, far more serious than the orders to merely deta
in all travelers indicated. And could it be that Calyx and I are the two they were referring to?

  Cairn decided that the most prudent course of action under the circumstances would be to sit tight exactly where he was for long enough until the men left the clearing, camp for the night in the area that they had already searched and vacated, and proceed just before dawn, bypassing the town, and head for the shelter of the forest north of Pardeau. He was inured to sleeping outdoors, and it was really of no consequence to him. Cairn’s only regret was that he would be unable to gather any more information from the townspeople on any of the most recent, disturbing events. But, his curiosity was not worth the risks he now perceived.

  When the remaining men had completed their cursory scouting and departed for the town, Cairn emerged from his hiding place among the tall grasses. He laid out his bedroll and sat cross-legged upon it. The sun was hanging low over the horizon, and there was perhaps twenty to thirty minutes of light left before it set completely and left him in total darkness.

  The stars will be bright tonight, he mused, as the sky was as clear as a bell.

  He would need no fire to give him comfort and his robes would keep him warm. He ate a few dried fruits from his satchel, relishing the intensity of their flavor, and he immediately enjoyed the feeling of rejuvenation that they offered him.

  Cairn’s thoughts kept drifting to the image of the ‘councilor’ who was surely up to no good.

  Where could he have come from, and who would have sent him? What purpose would he serve stirring up doubt and trouble so far north? Who could he be looking for in this part of the countryside? Surely no one could have known of my journey already, he thought, his brow furrowed.

  Cairn lay down on the pallet and drifted off into a fitful sleep, disturbed by the unexpected turn of events he had just witnessed, and anxious for the sun to rise so he could be on his way north and away from here.

  Cairn was woken abruptly when a bony hand, smelling strongly of ale was clasped over his mouth. A second hand grabbed both his arms and twisted them behind his back in such a manner that if he struggled he might just break them himself. He was lying upon his stomach, trussed like a spring chicken.

  “Look at what I’ve found here!” he heard his attacker say. “A funny lookin’ ‘un. May hap our friend will want to see this’n,” the hoarse voice said.

  Cairn turned his eyes sideways enough to recognize the face of the man who held him. Marto, the burly one arguing earlier with the others, spun him back and snapped his face forwards.

  “No you don’t. I do nay want those devil eyes lookin’ on me. Come, Gumley help me out here. Do nay hide yourself in the woods.”

  “I am nay hiding. I’ll do me job like the rest of ye. Here, let me bind him with this,” he said as he unwrapped a bundle of stout cord.

  “First cover the eyes of this stranger. I do nay like the looks of ‘im,” Marto ordered.

  As Gumley was tying a dirty rag around the head of his prisoner, Cairn heard a loud thud followed by the sounds of a scuffle and a sharp crack. There was much grunting and scraping, when at last he heard a voice say, “Yes, run you old bat. Show me the tail of the coward that you are, Gumley. And do nay try to come back again tonight and cause more trouble.”

  The voice belonged to the man called Trevor, one of the dissenters from earlier. Cairn was certain of that. As he was helped to his feet and his blindfold was removed he saw the other man, Marto, sprawled out on the ground with a nasty wound on the side of his forehead. A small amount of blood was oozing from the cut, and he was clearly not conscious. He lay in a heap with what was certain to be a broken leg by the sight of it.

  “I make my apologies for my countrymen. They are scared these days and they forget themselves. My name is Trevor Cortland. I am the blacksmith in the town, as was my father before me and his father before him,” and he extended his broad, calloused hand forthrightly to Cairn.

  The scholar reached out his own arm in response, as the big man was attempting to brush off the soil from Cairn’s robes. Before they made contact, a tremendous gust of wind came out of nowhere and sent leaves and dirt flying in all directions. Trevor’s eyes opened wide in fear as he reached for his staff with a look of sheer panic on his face. Into the clearing, from what direction he could not tell, a giant, catlike creature appeared with his jaw opened further than seemed possible, bearing rows of sharp, white teeth.

  “I’m fine, Calyx. Have no fear. The man here has come to my aid. He is not here to harm me,” Cairn said, and stepped quickly between the Moulant and the blacksmith.

  Trevor, astonished, gaped childlike at Calyx.

  “I was stupid, my friend. I went to sleep too soon and I did not think I really needed to be so careful. I was wrong. But, Trevor Cortland here has saved me from a surely unpleasant fate at the hands of some roughnecks. I thank you from the depths of my heart, Master Cortland. My name is Cairn, Cairn of Thermaye,” he said as he clasped Trevor’s trembling hand, completing the greeting.

  He bowed gracefully to the shaken and still frightened smith who obviously was afraid to move even an inch.

  “You are perfectly safe, my friend. Calyx will not harm you now.”

  Calyx moved gracefully over to the side of his companion and placed one giant paw on top of the fallen attacker. He rolled him onto his back and put his face close up to Martos as the wounded man regained consciousness. Upon opening his eyes and seeing only the huge face of Calyx, Marto shrieked and tried to push himself backwards despite the broken leg, passing out once again.

  Trevor had regained his composure by this time, and he waited as Marto opened his eyes once more and frantically looked around him. He caught the eye of Cairn who was smiling subtly with his arms folded across his chest.

  “I do not think you should try to get up, even if you could. My friend here is not often generous toward those who wish me harm,” Cairn spoke softly. “Perhaps you should help this fellow back to town, Trevor. Or, maybe not. Why don’t we leave him here with Calyx while you and I go to town and fetch some help?”

  Marto shook his head so quickly and violently, indicating that he did not think that would be such a good idea, that Cairn and Trevor laughed.

  “I do nay think he will be so likely to bother you again, sir Cairn. If’n his leg did nay stop him, by the look on his mug, he be certain that your friend there would.”

  “I tend to agree with you, Goodman Trevor,” Cairn replied with a grin.

  “My cottage is nay far from here. Would you care to come back and have a warm cup of cider and get some good rest?” he asked.

  “It would be my pleasure, Trevor. But what of this one over here?” he asked, pointing to Marto.

  “Let ‘im sit tight for a bit. His ‘friend’ will come back sooner or later, as least to see if’n he is alive or nay,” Trevor replied, winking at Cairn. “Come, you must be weary from the greeting our townspeople have given you.”

  Trevor led the way through the brambles to a narrow path beyond, and Cairn and Calyx gratefully followed him, confident that this man’s intentions were noble.

  Chapter Seven

  Baladar gazed out of the tower windows, scanning the horizon with both his eyes and his mind. His body sizzled with a quiet anticipation, and yet he could not calm the ever-present anxiety that wrestled with his soul. The pieces were falling into place, or so it seemed. The boy, Davmiran, was under his protection at last. Although still a child, he bore within him the seed of the future. He was the last great hope that the world had left, and Baladar would give his very life to nurture, support and enhance this hope.

  Baladar could sense the coming of his friends. He could also sense the evil lurking in the background, just beyond his comprehension and ability to pinpoint it. It was surely there, nevertheless, and it was not going to go away by itself. He had seen its face and the memory thereof was permanently inscribed upon his consciousness.

  His friends were quite competent and they were more than able to deal w
ith whatever might come between them and their mission, but Baladar harbored misgivings nonetheless, for only a fool would not recognize the threat of a formidable foe just because its presence was not physically manifesting itself at the time. He knew that his vigilance was probably more important now that the boy was with him than it was before he even had him under his protective wing. Word would spread of his existence and his location. The spells that he cast upon Dav were strong ones and they would serve to shelter his essence from detection to a certain extent. Common people, people without magic, would continue to be innocent of the fact of his existence.

  Baladar was no fool though, and he was well aware that the forces opposed to him and the boy were crafty, strong beyond measure and devious. The Evil One would eventually discover who was protecting him and where he was being kept. It would take considerable effort and a long, long time, but so would the preparation. The battle lines were drawn ages ago, and it was only a matter of time before both sides would have to meet and confront the dichotomy. Only one force could and would emerge victorious, and Baladar was going to give every advantage to the side of life and goodness that he had fought on for so long, with all of the energy that he had.

  As the sun set over the turrets of the castle, swathing the entire room in a crimson shower of broken light, Baladar pulled his cloak around his shoulders and prepared to leave. He wanted to arrive at his destination before the moon rose over the mountains, and he needed to return before sunrise the next. While strapping his sword to his belt, he hurried over to the chest in the far corner and spoke the words of power that would activate the mechanism allowing him to open the ancient wooden box.