The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  The latch sprung with a whooshing sound, like a balloon being quickly deflated by a pin prick, and the rim where the cover meets the bottom portion began to glow and sparkle ever so slightly. Baladar was accustomed to the reaction and paid it no mind. He pressed the two concealed buttons under the handles mounted on either side of the chest and then waited the full ten seconds required before lifting the top. With little effort, he raised the lid of oak, burnished and shining as brightly now as polished steel.

  Kneeling down in front of the box, he retrieved the small dagger from the tray suspended across the back of the box, the hilt of which harbored a ruby the size of a robin’s egg and secured to the handle by a web of woven platinum and gold. He cradled the weapon in his palm, and he felt the warmth of the stone and the power it generated immediately upon its contact with his skin. Baladar placed it carefully within the folds of his cloak and the nourishing heat penetrated his body.

  As if in a trance, without needing to look, the Lord of Pardatha reached into the far left-hand corner and picked up a small, square black velvet box. It had no marks of closure and no apparent cover, yet Baladar knew very well how to open it. He had been waiting untold years in order to do so and only now was he able to. From his pouch of gems in his pocket, he loosened the drawstring and took out the white diamond. It sparkled with an awesome beauty, as if alive with hope and joy, and if he could ascribe human emotion to such an inanimate object, he would have believed it to be as expectant and excited as was he.

  Placing the stone atop the velvet box and humming a deep and resonant note in just the right key, he sat down awestruck and witnessed what he had never even anticipated. The white stone glowed with power. As if melting, yet clearly maintaining its shape, it enveloped the box in tendrils of white light, so very beautiful to behold. The black velvet shimmered under the diamond web and then vanished as if it had never been there to begin with.

  Baladar focused his vision upon the stone as best he could, considering the brightness of the light, and he began to discern the clear shape of a ring suspended within it. It twirled and spun like a coin flipped by a child upon a table. Spinning faster and faster, the light from the ring filled the entire room with a dizzying, almost nauseating whiteness. As quickly as it reached its peak, the light abruptly vanished as the diamond and the ring fell to the stone floor, clattering and jingling. The velvet box was gone. Baladar retrieved the stone and returned it to the pouch.

  Fingers trembling, he deferentially picked up the glowing band of gold between his thumb and forefinger and held it aloft before his eyes. Ancient runes covered the ring, inside and out, most of which were not quite discernible to the naked eye,but he recognized a symbol here and there, as he examined it with care. It was warm to the touch and remarkably beautiful! He removed a thin, gold chain from around his own neck, slipped the ring over it and secured it once again, and although seemingly weightless, Baladar felt and sensed its presence against the skin of his chest. He hurriedly returned the implements of his work to whence they had come and left the chamber. Purposefully he scurried down the narrow, winding stairway from his tower room.

  Upon emerging from the stairwell into the great hall, he was confronted by members of the court who had no idea of what was unfolding right within their midst. The mundane tasks of running a large city seemed so far away and unimportant at the moment, yet no one else here was cognizant of that fact.

  “My Lord, would you be so good as to sign this document? It has been sitting upon my desk for three days now and the families involved need to partition the land before the winter rains wash the markers we set away,” the clerk of the 1st court said, thrusting a quill pen and a paper in front of him.

  “I am sorry, my friend, but I have no time now. Perhaps later this evening. Or even better, bright and early tomorrow morning. I have some business to attend to now.”

  Baladar dismissed him politely though abruptly, and rushed through the crowd gathered in the great hall, perfunctorily responding to those who would take no less than some kind of acknowledgment.

  I should have found a better way out of here, he thought, not realizing the time of day and just how crowded the grounds of the castle would be now.

  Immediately in front of him, the door to the courtyard loomed, and in only a short time now he would be on his way.

  Pushing the great oaken slab unassisted was a real test of strength, but not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, he did not call for aid. As it opened and he was about to take his first step into the passage just ahead, he felt a strong hand upon his shoulder.

  “Forgive me, my Lord Baladar,” the deep and resonant voice he recognized immediately said. “I must detain you from your obviously pressing calling for just a moment. A matter of importance, if you please.”

  “Yes, Darrel, what is it? I am late for an appointment with the new gelding in the outer stable. Before the sun sets, I promised the trainer that I would attempt a riding.”

  “Oh, I see. I will not keep you for too long then. But, I understand that we have a guest in the castle!”

  Baladar’s heart leapt at the last remark. How could Darrel know? This will change my plan. It’s too soon.

  “Who is that you speak of, my friend? I know of no such person. Was I not informed?”

  “Ah, and could it be that you have not heard yet? I thought for sure he was here at your invitation?”

  “Who?” Baladar’s heart pounded.

  Darrel smiled, looking like the cat who got the mouse, so proud for knowing something before his Lord did. Perhaps he did not in fact know of the boy, and some other person of significance had coincidentally arrived concurrently.

  “See for yourself. You need only to turn around,” he replied rather smugly under his breath.

  Baladar turned and took in the sight of someone he never dreamed would have had the courage to enter his city.

  “Baladar, my Lord and liege,” the man said bowing low before him. “It is so good to see you once again. After such a long absence, I would have thought for sure that you would have prepared a welcoming for me.” The dark haired nobleman made a disapproving sound, “Such a disappointment. But, I do forgive you, with the mundane affairs of state keeping you so busy all the time, I am sure you simply forgot that I was coming.”

  Baladar was so taken aback, his feelings awash with conflicting emotions; relief that his secret was not exposed, trepidation at the arrival of his rival, the Duke of Talamar’s heir, at such an inopportune moment, and extreme wariness at the concurrence of the two matters.

  Kettin Dumas, son of the proprietor of the southern reaches, sly and not to be trusted, flashed an insincere and toothy smile at Baladar.

  “My father sends his fondest wishes and hopes that you are in good health, both body and mind. His only regret is that he himself could not be here at this time. Pressing matters keep him occupied at home, as I am sure you can well understand,” he said, as if he shared a monumental secret with his father that he was unwilling to fully reveal.

  Kettin never seemed to say what he meant. His inflections of speech could not help but lead one to believe that his seemingly simple words had far deeper meanings than they originally indicated. Whether warranted or not, he aroused suspicion and doubts even as he spoke.

  “I welcome your presence at any time, Kettin Dumas, although I have to admit that my aides have been remiss in not informing me of your intended visit. How could they have been so irresponsible? Surely you will forgive me and kindly not humiliate me by conveying to your father my embarrassing yet truly innocent and regretful lack of preparation for your coming. I would be mortified if the Duke should learn of my faux pas.”

  Choking on his words, he fervently hoped the insincerity was not too obvious to those present. He was not afraid that the Duke’s son would recognize his affectation. Kettin was not astute enough to sense anything subtle. But he certainly did not need to enter into a lengthy and wasteful argument with his southern ‘ally’
over etiquette at this moment.

  “Come, Kettin, embrace me and enter my court as a welcome guest.”

  With that, Kettin moved the few paces required to reach Baladar’s side, and with as little physical contact as possible, hugged him as if he were infected with the trecco virus itself. Upon contact with Baladar, Kettin noticeably jumped back a pace. His expression changed from one of casual discomfort to one of startled fear. He looked at Baladar askew and then abruptly attempted to regain his composure.

  “I could have sworn that something just shocked me, yet I know that I am not that unwelcome here Baladar. You are surely charged with energy this evening. It is in the air. I can feel it. I hope my arrival is not untimely?” he responded, looking around the court.

  Kettin immediately regretted having uttered such a suspicion, but Baladar could not help but notice a flash of fear in the young man’s eyes, coupled with his usual mistrust.

  “I must have been imagining it.” He quickly shrugged as if it was nothing, yet his cautious look betrayed to Baladar more than he wished at the moment.

  “I have no idea what it could have been. A storm may be forming upon the horizon,” he said, glancing at the darkening western sky, “or perhaps you’re just tired from your journey and a relaxing bath and good dinner will calm your nerves. Please, aides! Come and relieve this young and tired Lord of his cloak. Sit, Kettin, sit and have some warm cider mulled from our own trees by the maidens of Balbor. That should certainly settle your nerves and put you at ease. The hour is growing late and you are clearly weary from your journey.”

  He momentarily contemplated slipping a sleep draught of nightspark into the drink so as to relieve himself of this troublesome development at such an odious moment. Of course, he knew such an action was impossible, as the young Lord would surely know in the morning that he had been the victim of foul play, but the thought lingered longer than it probably should have.

  Kettin sensed the ring and that was dangerous beyond belief. He could not have known what it was he sensed, yet the fact that the token of power was emanating so clearly caused great concern. Moreover, the power rejected his touch and reacted in a negative way to his proximity. That bespoke more against Kettin than any feeling Baladar could have had about his neighbor’s ungentle son.

  The timing of the Duke’s son’s arrival could not be mere coincidence. Beware! it spoke to Baladar in its own subtle fashion. Beware of the darkness approaching.

  A chill ran down his spine, as he attempted to calm himself amidst his growing consternation.

  “Kettin, please relax. I must arrange for your comfort while you are with us. And by the way, how long do you plan on gracing my home with your noble presence?”

  “Ah, my Lord Baladar,” he replied as he drew him aside and away from the ears of others. “Your warm welcome is so gratifying after my long traipse through the barrens that perhaps I will remain for a while. You and I have much to discuss. My father, the Duke, has sent me as an envoy in his stead as his health is recently questionable, something I dared not repeat earlier in common company. Who knows what advantage someone might take with that knowledge under his hat, and with his only heir away from his side and relatively unprotected. Well, you can definitely understand my concerns. Nevertheless, there are developments in the east that need our attention, and whom could he trust other than me to be his proponent in such delicate matters?”

  “Ah, of course,” Baladar nodded. “He has chosen well, Kettin, that is for sure! I know of no other who would serve in your lord’s stead better than you. Let us plan a moment to sit and discuss these untoward ‘developments’, Kettin. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

  “Yes, we must. We need also speak of trade once more. It seems our merchants are rather disgruntled by the prices they are recently receiving for their polong oil. You know that it is the finest in all the lands.”

  “It is the only polong oil in all the lands, my dear sir.”

  Baladar tried very hard to conceal the sarcasm in his voice, although he did not really believe that Kettin was aware enough to sense his distaste anyway. He saw his opportunity to sneak away and he jumped upon it.

  “As you surely need time to settle in, and as we can expect an extended stay, let us both retire until the new sun. You can bathe and freshen up, while I attend to some matters of state that seem always to press upon us. We will have ample time tomorrow to discuss these issues and do some much needed catching up on old times. By the way, how is your charming mother, the Duchess? I so enjoy her robust sense of humor.”

  He turned to his aide without giving Kettin any further opportunity to speak.

  “Cristian, show Lord Kettin to the north suites and see that everything necessary is done to guarantee his comfort while he is with us. Also, arrange for his cortege as well. The barracks are more than comfortable in our domains and they are far enough away from the din of the city to allow the guards their well-deserved rest. Stable the horses and see that both humans and animals are well fed. Make haste. My noble friend has ridden long and hard, and we have been remiss in our hospitality by obliging him to stand here for so long.”

  “Yes my Lord, at once,” Cristian responded and leapt to the task.

  A good man, that Cristian is. He will understand my meaning, Baladar thought. The farther away from the castle that he leads these armed guards, the better.

  Kettin bowed to Baladar then turned and followed the aide, as Baladar seized upon the moment and headed out the archway toward the stables.

  Baladar drew his cloak closely around his shoulders, concealing his attire as much as possible. The last thing that he wanted now was someone to notice his brocade glinting in the moonlight. He needed to travel undetected and unimpeded, and he wished nothing more than to slip quietly into the darkness and be off. Baladar entered the stables through one of the stableboy’s back doors, slipping by the reposing guards at the front entrance. He made a mental note to chastise the guards for being so lax, though he was thankful for it now. Greater vigilance would have to be the rule in the days ahead.

  He quietly saddled his stallion Porta, and without bit and bridle, coaxed him out the side doors. Upon clearing the corrals, he headed toward the castle gates. Once outside the castle grounds, he leapt upon Porta’s back, headed for the Noban gate, and then north in the direction of lake Everclear. The night air was crisp and fragrant and the wind blew steadily but calmly across his brow. Porta was excited at having been aroused at this uncommonly late hour, and without the benefit of reins, Baladar exerted quite some strength in directing him properly. He was a good and noble horse, and although instinct led him to press onward unguided, loyalty and training kept him on the path that was expected of him.

  Through the woods surrounding the city they cantered, weaving in and out amongst the low slung branches, avoiding being unseated by a hair’s breadth many times. As they neared the lake, the trees grew denser and the underbrush thickened, slowing their pace considerably. The moon shone through the canopy of brush brightly enough to illuminate their destination. It reflected off of the waters of the lake as if the liquid was a mirror in the sunlight. Yet, the path to it was not clear, and the closer Baladar seemed to get to his goal, the farther he realized he was. This was not unexpected and he ignored the appearance of distance, knowing that the illusion would pass. The lake was protecting itself from intruders, and although he was considered to be a friend, he was not of the same making and he would have to struggle with this confusion if he was to arrive at all.

  After coaxing Porta through a particularly odious tangle of brambles, a clear pathway opened up before him, beckoning with the scent and appearance of comfort and warmth. He knew at that point that he had been admitted and that the test would only now be beginning. Baladar summoned what strength he could from deep within himself, preparing his mind for the onslaught that he knew would soon overwhelm it.

  As the path narrowed, a portal appeared glimmering in the near distance. He headed strai
ght for it, slipping slowly off the saddle. Porta shied away from the light only slightly, and proceeded to drop his head and search calmly for some moist grass to chew. Baladar knew that he would remain there until his return. He walked up to the shimmering area of ambient emptiness, drew a deep breath, and proceeded to step inside.

  Chapter Eight

  Cairn and Trevor walked side by side, with Calyx trailing cautiously a few feet behind. The walk to his humble home was short and refreshing. Trevor was certainly a good man. Cairn could tell, and there was no question he could trust this woodsman. As they approached the thatched roofed cabin, an aura of warmth and safety enveloped him. A startlingly attractive, middle-aged woman, dressed in deerskin and linen, eyes as bright as the midday sun, bolted out of the doorway and to the side of Cairn’s new found companion. The sight of Calyx lurking in the distance did not seem to disturb her.

  She eyed Cairn with friendliness and openness, uncommon among strangers these days, and pushed her jet black hair back. He spotted a bright yellow stone glimmering from each lobe of her delicately carved ears, as if they were speaking to him, welcoming him. Cairn immediately liked this woman. In fact he felt strangely comfortable in the company of them both, even having been unaccustomed to communing with humans. Her smile was warm and welcoming and there was not a hint of hesitation in it.

  The house was modest but homey, the walls hung with tapestries, and the floor was covered with a woven rug of dyed reeds. The furniture was heavy and well made, clearly carved by an artisan of no little talent, probably Trevor himself, if Cairn suspected correctly.

  “I bring to thee a guest to share our food and grog, my dearest,” Trevor exclaimed proudly, as he introduced Cairn to his wife Safira.

  “Come in, stranger, and make yourself at home. Trevor, fetch a chair for the gentleman,” she replied so casually and honestly that Cairn relaxed immediately.