The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  Cairn, not willing to take anything for granted, remained unsure and apprehensive.

  “How do you know, Tomas? How can you be certain? I want to believe you, but I would like to know what makes you so confident?”

  “I just feel it. The water is calm, nothing threatens from below and the birds are all asleep. They feasted well yesterday. A party of Trolls tried to cross from the east, heading toward the southern dukedom of Talamar. They were too slow. The birds are not hungry tonight.”

  “Wherefrom comes your surety, Tomas? I know you’re different than many other boys your age. But how do you get this information? Does Ormachon provide you with knowledge from this distance?” Cairn poled the waters and made good headway under the stars. Tomas spoke so distinctly of things that most others could only speculate upon.

  “Ormachon does tell me things now and then. My bond with him is strong and I hear him from a great distance. You see too Cairn, that we are riding upon a wooden raft, and anything wooden helps us communicate.”

  “I did not realize that. I thought that a Chosen and his tree needed to have more direct contact, even from a distance. I was led to believe that water interrupted the chain.”

  “No, only sometimes. This water is full of life, and thus it makes the chain stronger, not weaker. The distance is insignificant. Only in a wasteland would we not be able to hear one another at all.”

  Cairn was surprised to hear this, but it made perfect sense to him.

  “I see. And he tells you we are safe here? He knows the birds will not attack?” Cairn asked still somewhat skeptical.

  “No, he cannot predict tomorrow, or even what may occur an hour from now. Reading the future is not for a Lalas to do. But he can deduce based upon what he knows to be from what has already been. And, Ormachon knows much. His communication with the others is still strong, although it weakens these days.”

  “Tomas?” Cairn asked, stopping briefly from the task of propelling the craft.

  “Yes?” Tomas gazed upon Cairn’s face, his bright eyes reflecting the moonlight now and again as it broke through the high clouds.

  “How can I believe that you are only fourteen? You seem so much older.”

  “I am fourteen years and three months. But during all of those years, I was with Ormachon. I never knew my parents. As far back as I can remember, Ormachon was my father, and Trevor and Safira were my guardians. I knew no others,” he said without emotion. “I grew up very quickly. While most boys are still nursing at their mother’s breast, I was practicing the art of meditation. While other children played games among themselves, Ormachon taught me skills. I learned to read while very young and my bedtime stories were usually taken from the Tomes of Caradon. You see, Cairn, I am fourteen in years only, not in knowledge or experience,” the boy concluded without any hint of arrogance in his voice. He was simply describing the situation as it had been.

  “You and I are not so dissimilar, Tomas, although I was never Chosen. I think I regretted that fact more as a child than as an adult. When I finally realized that I would have to learn everything I needed to entirely on my own, I felt much better.”

  Tomas’s eyes locked upon Cairn’s face, fascinated, as he spoke.

  “I dove into my studies headfirst, ravenous for knowledge. I loved to learn, and to reason. I must admit, though, that I envied those who were chosen, those who left my village for a life of companionship and challenge. Weren’t you very young to have been picked?”

  “I guess so. I never knew anything else. The first things I remember have to do with Ormachon.”

  “You are very extraordinary to me,” Cairn said tenderly. “I never knew my brothers and I have no sons of my own. Although I have only just met you, you hold a very special place in my heart. I really cannot explain it. The moment I saw you, I felt as if I had known you before. I do not believe that it was mere chance that brought us together,” Cairn said and then he stopped talking, not expecting a reply from the boy after his last comment, but he did not stop thinking.

  This was a remarkable young man, wondrous even. Cairn knew that he was destined to bring him to Pardatha with him, that somehow he would play a major role in the events that were yet to occur. He hoped that Tomas would be able to help train the boy heir too, that he would not be reluctant to impart what knowledge he could to the other child. Cairn believed now that the odds of success were increased since Tomas had joined him on his journey.

  “Cairn?” Tomas asked, sounding like a boy again.

  “Yes?” Cairn replied.

  “Ormachon told me I could trust you, but I knew that I could before he even told me. I do not understand many things about myself and the world. But I do know that being here now is right. I know that I have a purpose in this life, and I believe that you will help me to achieve it,” he said with such touching sincerity that Cairn was visibly moved.

  “I hope you can help me in achieving mine as well. We need each other, Tomas!” Cairn said, as the boy made his way to his side and hugged him tightly.

  A single tear rolled down Tomas’ cheek, unseen by Cairn, and he let it linger on his skin, overcome by feelings that were uncommon to him. He did not want to let go.

  “Now, my son, help me to get this raft to the other side. I really do not want to test your predictions,” Cairn responded, gently patting the boy on his back, also overtaken by a feeling of kinship, like a father for a son or an elder brother for a younger.

  Cairn sensed the boy’s reluctance to separate from him, and together they stood this way for a minute, creating an unusual picture upon this make-shift raft in the middle of the churning lake. Calyx growled affectionately from the end of the raft, sensing too the comfort and warmth that existed among the group. Tomas detached himself from Cairn after a while and made his way forward on the small transport, gazing ahead into the approaching dawn, calm and serene as ever, seeming to not have a care in the world.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “Where is that son of mine?” the Duke of Talamar asked, exasperated. “I send him on an important mission, for once, as he so often requested of me, and he takes his good time in returning, knowing how vital what I sent him to retrieve is!

  “This does not bode well. I fear that I should have trusted my instincts, and sent you instead. But Baladar would not have welcomed you as he must my son and heir,” the Duke stated, staring out the broad, stained glass window of his study. His beady eyes scanned the horizon to the northwest, searching for a sign of the small party that set out for Pardatha eight days ago.

  The Duke was unusually nervous recently, Fobush noticed, not surprised though considering the visitors that had only recently left the castle. Times were strange and dangerous indeed when envoys from the deep south are made welcome and given shelter in Talamar.

  “Is that a rider over there at the edge of the woods?” Duke Leonardo asked, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brow in his effort to focus.

  The Duke of Talamar was not a handsome man. He had always relied upon his cunning and in his ability to act and be charming in order to gain friends and alliances. The Dukedom of Talamar occupied the southern reaches, closer to the deep south than most other civilized areas, necessitating its leaders to be negotiators as well as statesmen. The borders were secure for the most part, and although the Altamar mountain range separated them from Colton dar Agonthea and his minions, the one major pass was negotiable at certain times of the year, and a small army could be led to the gates of the city, if driven hard enough. The entryway to that pass was well garrisoned, or so the Duke hoped. He often sent scouts to the fort in order to check up on the troops he stationed there. Being so far away from home, he knew that they would become careless, and he could not afford that. He rotated the soldiers frequently in order to avoid the danger of their complacency.

  The Duke trembled at the thought of any army of Colton’s occupying his territory. His one brief visit by the Dark Lord’s envoy caused enough fear in him for a lifetime. The Duke o
f Talamar never boasted of his courage. He was given a simple task to accomplish and if done properly, he would be left alone; that is what he was told, and that was all there was to it! The Duke had no regrets about accepting the directive if it would assure that his domain would remain at peace and he and his family would remain unmolested.

  If there was one thing that he despised more than anything else, it was fighting. The alliances he made were always designed to serve his self-interest. After all, is that not what good leadership is all about? The Duke was never a man others trusted with anything more serious than money, but his management and his ability to walk a thin line and balance upon it always, allowed his fiefdom to prosper, and his people were therefore satisfied.

  The Dukedom of Talamar thrived upon trade, selling ore and lamp-burning oils to the north and east in exchange for clothing, silks and manufactured goods that his people were hard pressed to produce themselves. It was so hot in the south that food grew well, but his people rarely exerted the effort to provide enough to sell outside of their own territory. They created no crafts worthy of selling, and no artisans of merit ever originated in Talamar. They constructed no furniture of value, no artwork to boast about and there was no center of learning here as existed in other regions of comparable size. The oils that they were able to retrieve rather easily from the ground as well as from the polong trees, one type used for lamps and the other for cooking, were rare enough to assure Talamar of a continual source of material suitable for barter.

  In days long past, when his great-grandfather ruled and the Lalas flourished in the countryside, things may have been different. The Duke in fact, hated the great trees anyway, so it did not disturb him that none existed on his lands any longer. He never trusted them, let alone those strange people who were ‘chosen’ and lived their entire lives bound to a single tree. The “sacred” trees could not be chopped down and they produced no fruit or oil or even berries. He often wondered what purpose they really served, and he never liked those who ministered to them so graciously. No, he was not sad that they grew no more in Talamar. The last one died many years ago when he was still young, and he to this day would not go near the area where it once stood so arrogantly and proudly.

  Well, the mighty Lalas is just a pile of dust now, while I am still the leader of my people!

  And thus Duke Leonardo reasoned, worrying only that the dark power to the south would notice his prosperity and not pass him by if he ever extended his influence northward. How he would manage to pacify Colton dar Agonthea he was not certain, but he was determined not to let anything disturb the status quo in Talamar.

  “Is that Kettin over there?” he asked his aide, jabbing his fat finger repeatedly at the window. “I could swear that I see a group of people at the edge of the woods. But my eyesight is not as good as it used to be. What do you see?” he asked Fobush impatiently, tugging upon his sleeve and pulling him toward the leaded glass.

  “Yes my lord, I believe it is a party of men. Should I send a contingent out to meet them?” his aide responded as politely as he could.

  “Yes, yes! I am anxious to see if he accomplished what I sent him to do. It should not have been too difficult a task, rescuing a sleeping boy from Baladar’s keep. I wonder why Colton wants this boy so badly anyway,” he mused aloud, frowning to himself. “Do you think they are related? Since when has the Evil One ever been interested in children? I thought he reserved his time and concern for beautiful women and gold. Perhaps the boy is the whelp of some whore of his,” he said with rancor in his voice.

  Fobush cringed at the way his Lordship spoke of Colton. He believed, as many did, that the Dark Lord had eyes and ears everywhere and that it was dangerous to even think bad things about him, or to even speak his name aloud. However, the Duke had always been a fool in Fobush’s eyes, and he had no reason to expect he would behave any differently today. But this son of his! May the First help them all if he succeeds the Duke.

  “Send the guard now, Fobush! Bring that dolt of a son of mine here to me as soon as you can. If he traveled any more slowly he would be walking backwards!” Duke Leonardo exclaimed.

  “Yes, my Lord. At once,” He turned immediately and left the room to carry out the orders.

  The Duke of Talamar nervously walked to the window and gazed ahead, more concerned about his son’s success than he wished Fobush to know. He desperately tried to see if the approaching party had the young boy in tow.

  No one knew how thoroughly and totally distraught Colton’s emissary had made him. He had been unable to sleep well since that fateful day. And how that despicable Ambassador got through the pass unnoticed with twenty hideous trolls at his side, he could not imagine. What good was it to have a garrison at the pass if they let anyone through without even warning him? What if he did not deliver the boy to Colton? What if the boy was not there? What could he really do to him? After all, he still had alliances with the north, with Pardatha, Avalain and many other kingdoms. They would come to his aid if he requested it of them.

  If Kettin returned without the boy, then Baladar could not be angry with him, for he would have done nothing wrong. Kettin was not fool enough to leave his city on bad terms. Baladar was a strong ally and Pardatha was a wealthy and influential land. The Duke would have to ask for help, of course, but Baladar would not deny him. He was a noble ally and Leonardo knew that he would respect his promises.

  Duke Leonardo was pacing back and forth across his study, growing more and more nervous as time passed, evaluating his options.

  Why did he come to me? Couldn’t he have gone east to Drakar or Entallen? He told me to contact him when I had the young man in my possession. He fought to maintain control of himself and he slowly opened the heavy lid of the metal bound coffer. Reluctantly reaching for the black leather pouch that Colton’s Ambassador handed to him upon his departure, the Duke recalled the instructions that he was given; Spread the powder from the pouch onto a stone table. Strike a flint to it. When the substance ignites, speak the words “Pemte couta delen gar. Ishma neander Agonthea’, and step back. The tall stranger told Duke Leonardo that he needed only to follow the counsel as provided and they would take care of the rest. He stuffed the pouch in his pocket and returned to his vigil at the window once again, remembering with a sudden shiver the chillingly empty blackness of the unwelcome visitor’s eyes.

  The Duke watched as Fobush led a small contingent of guards across the courtyard and out onto the plain. He followed them as they galloped off toward the group that was definitely emerging from the woods and heading in the direction of the castle.

  It has to be Kettin, and he must have this mysterious boy with him. He could not have bungled this mission! It was so simple. A woman could have done it, he thought worriedly.

  As he continued to fret, a heavyset lady with bright red lips and grey streaks in her curly black hair, burst into the room, her many layers of skirting brushing the floor loudly as she crossed to the Duke.

  “What are you doing standing at the window like an old woman? Are you waiting for tomorrow while today has barely begun? You have gotten so lazy, Leon, I fear that I must soon have to do everything,” she chastised, in a high-pitched voice.

  “Hush, woman. You speak nonsense. Can’t you see that I am busy?” he answered abruptly, trying vainly to dismiss her.

  “Busy, my foot! Ever since that ugly man from wherever you said he was from appeared here, you have not been yourself. You run around and hide in the shadows, always looking over your shoulder as if you expect something awful to appear. What is wrong, dearest?” she inquired almost affectionately, but with genuine interest.

  “I am concerned about our son, Dorothea, that is what is wrong. I sent him on a simple journey to visit a friend and ally and he has not returned yet. Can I not worry about our son?”

  “Why should things be different now? You never worried about your son before,” she replied, standing on her toes and gazing into the small mirror above the hearth. “What did
you send him to do?” she questioned as she adjusted her lipstick with her index finger.

  “Nothing too difficult. He had to go to Pardatha and bring some runaway boy back here with him. A nursemaid could have done the job, but I thought Kettin might learn something from the journey.”

  “Whom did this boy run away from and why did his own family not go and fetch him?” she asked confused, clearly unwilling to accept anything less than a square answer from her husband.

  “It is of no concern to you, Lady. Now leave me be!” he retorted, attempting to end the conversation then and there.

  “I will not allow you to speak to me with such a tone. Now, say you’re sorry and tell me whose boy this is!” she demanded, making it obvious that she would settle for no further obfuscation today.

  “If you insist, Dorothea, but don’t blame me if you regret having asked this question,” he responded, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. “Colton dar Agonthea!” he then said with a venomous hiss.

  “What about that devil spawn? What does he have to do with anything?” she asked him, perplexed.

  “Dearest Dorothea, what must I do to make you understand? The boy, the young man that I sent Kettin to fetch, is related somehow to Colton dar Agonthea! Is that clear enough for you?” he shouted and turned back to the window, hiding his harrowed expression from her eyes.

  The woman almost fainted when the words her husband spoke finally registered in her mind. She quickly searched around the room for a seat and then sat down heavily in a large chair, her skirts flying up around her as she attempted to regain her breath.

  “Are you serious, husband? What could possibly have possessed you to do such a thing? Have you totally lost your senses?” she asked, blotting her forehead nervously with the edge of her skirt.

  “Quiet, old woman. You know not of what you speak. What would you have liked me to do? Refuse the Dark Lord’s request? What do you think he would have done if his emissary returned to Sedahar and told him that the Duke of Talamar humbly regrets that he cannot fulfill your wish? Do you think he would have said ‘Fine,’ and gone about his business? That much of a fool I am not!” Duke Leonardo responded, totally flustered by now. “What choice did I have?”