The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  Robyn dar Tamarand would intuitively feel the difference and see the Dark Lord as nothingness, as the void, neither right nor wrong, beyond the definitions. Robyn would call him the antithesis of life. He would characterize him as empty and meaningless, a different form of power than his own, a power that robbed life of its essence and of its beauty. He could not even allow a comparison with the forces that he was so intimately in touch with.

  Filaree Par D’Avalain would never understand the Dark Lord at all. He would be an enigma to her. She could not conceive of evil that pure, that intense, that immutable. She saw things in terms of degrees; degrees of strength, degrees of skill, degrees of dexterity. She would weigh his shortcomings and evaluate his power in terms of her own abilities.

  Regardless of how any one of them perceived Colton dar Agonthea, his presence was becoming more obvious. The eternal battle between the light and the darkness was reaching a critical point now, at this time in history, and notwithstanding the fact that such a conflict always underlay most changes throughout time, some were more permanent than others, some had more devastating effects than others and some provoked changes that were irreversible, that altered the entire course of history, throwing all of life itself into jeopardy. Such was the situation at this juncture.

  As the Lalas passed away so did the lifeblood of the planet, as its veins and arteries that provided sustenance to all ends of the earth, withered and collapsed. The cycle of birth and death was being threatened with the passing of the great trees. Dissolution was becoming a possibility for the first time in thousands of tiels, and Colton dar Agonthea felt it, he knew it and he gloried in the prospect.

  The heir to the Gwendolen throne, the young boy newly dubbed Davmiran, provided a spark of hope to all who studied the legends, the Tomes of Caradon, to all who recognized the role that he was destined to play in the epic that was unfolding before them. He had to rediscover the Gem of Eternity and to renew the strength of the Lalas. All that had transpired before, all the battles and victories, great and small, all the defeats, all the sacrifices and losses, the heartbreak and the sorrow, all the joy and happiness and glory that went to make up the many facets of life and history, had led up to this point. And Colton knew it! He knew that the heir was his nemesis and he knew that the threat that he posed to the dark side was the greatest threat that had presented itself in eons. The irony was evident. The closer he felt that he was coming to victory, the more threatening the boy became.

  He believed that without the heir, what he perceived as the fabric of the Lalas folly would unravel completely. Yet he, for the first time in thousands of tiels, felt a pang of worry, a hint of discomfort, a slight wave of concern knowing that the boy had been successfully cast northward toward the heart of the Lalas’ remaining strength, toward the circle of power that would attempt to shield him and nurture him, until he was ready to perform his task and venture out into the world in search of the loathsome first and the despised Gem of Eternity nestled therein. With it in their hands, Colton’s plans would be ruined. All his work would be for naught, his calculating, his preparing, his painstaking progress.

  He could see the puzzle as it was being pieced together and he knew the final picture would be quite different if the boy were to die. But, he had to find him first, and although his powers were vast, they had their limits, especially when it came to areas where the Lalas still thrived. If he was not in Pardatha, where was he? He would begin to search again, but this time his slaves would pay the price for leading him in the wrong direction. That pathetic old woman would have to suffer for her failures. The thought of that at least caused him a modicum of satisfaction.

  The world was based upon two conflicting concepts, light and dark, the former incorporating a bit of everything, allowing for many shades and variations, while the latter tolerating nothing, requiring the complete absence of the other. Colton longed for the world to spin uncontrollably into the void, the emptiness of dissolution and nothingness, within which he would thrive, feeding off of the desolation, the oblivion of utter darkness. He was a being who thrived on negativity, the opposite of the light. His energy was derived from obscurity and shadow, unlike the Lalas whose energy radiated throughout the world based upon the light.

  All of life shared a bit of the Gem’s spark and passed it on with each new birth, with each sprouting blade of grass, every germinated seed, everything and anything organic that perpetuated itself through rejuvenation, duplication and reproduction. The Gem concentrated the warmth of the universe and then spread it throughout the world. It was the fulcrum upon which all life balanced. The Gem received its potency from the heavens and magnified it, dispersing it through the Lalas to the very ends of the earth. As the sun warmed the planet and generated new and more beautiful life forms, the darkness and cold stripped the planet of energy, smothering it in the icy chill of dormancy, denying life the chance to flourish.

  Colton was the darkness, he was the cold, he was the void, and the sooner he could capture and eliminate the boy, the sooner the trees would all die, the desolation would spread and life would come to an end. Then he, Colton dar Agonthea, could become one with the abyss and merge with the negative power from whence he came. He would find peace at last, out of time, out of space, free from the pain and suffering of feeling.

  His castle, castle Sedahar, had as many faces as did he. It seemingly created itself anew each day, depending upon its lord’s mood. Never less than spectacular but always foreboding, it was perched upon a barren hilltop, open and exposed, ostensibly easy prey for anyone wishing to organize a head on assault. Situated south east of Lormarion, the kingdom of the Elves, it towered over the basin that was once the Sea of Tides.

  Tiels ago, a river emptied itself into that sea, creating giant waves on the southernmost shores, causing the waters to rise and fall like the great southern oceans. The river dried up ages past and the basin and gorge that were once lush with life, were now barren and empty. The gorge stretched all the way to Pardatha in the north, where the river had once originated. Lake Everclear, a wellspring of fresh water, was the initial source of both the now dry river as well as the Sea of Tides.

  Countless tiels past, the lake shot brilliant blue water skywards from the seemingly limitless geysers that erupted from under its surface. All kinds of life flourished in the pure, warm waters of Everclear, and the brilliant blue liquid flowed in steady streams south to the Sea of Tides. The river’s banks were lush with vegetation, and people came from miles around to relax upon its bountiful shores and gaze upon the mesmerizing water. But, one day, the water ceased to explode to the surface, the great geysers grew inexplicably still and the river slowly dried up and died, leaving the strange and saturnine lake as the solitary reminder of what once was.

  A frontal assault upon Sedahar, despite the wide and open path to its gates, would nevertheless be a big mistake. The appearance of an exposed approach was a seductive invitation to death; an illusive beckoning by the forces of dissolution. The Dark Lord’s city was built upon chimera and falsity. It was not what it appeared to be and no army had ever had the audacity to attack it.

  Colton populated his domain with all types of living things, dead things too, though their demeanor and appearance changed the longer they were enslaved, coming to look more and more like one another, regardless of their differences when they arrived at Sedahar initially. They grew into creatures of darkness; their eyes began to bulge, fingers elongated, hair fell out, while their skin turned a dark, slimy greenish-brown. Some of the enslaved appeared that way to begin with, coming from the south and being born into slavery. Those ones knew no other reality and thus performed their tasks without question, without any thought of doing anything else. The others, the ones who had led different lives previously, who had known freedom and light, found it harder to adjust.

  His slaves fought the chains that Colton shackled them with at times, until they too succumbed to the idea that they would never, never be free again. Colton woul
d not tolerate the taking of one’s own life. Not because he reviled the idea, but because it was a waste of a body. He was the only one to make the choice between life and death, and when he did choose death for a subject, the remains were not allowed to decompose and become part of the cycle of birth once again. The dead were annihilated, thrown into the massive furnaces that fed the castle. But their souls were trapped for all eternity, trapped between life and death.

  Underneath Sedahar was a mammoth maze of tunnels, carved out of the bedrock by the Valkor, the giant, coal eating, lizard-like animals that Colton bred since time began. They had three rapierlike claws tipping off their front legs, sharp and elongated, both capable of burrowing through the soft coal that the rock was inundated with as well as capable of gutting their enemies with one furious swipe. The organic matter in the coal is what they thrived upon. The gastric acid in their stomachs was both capable of digesting it and igniting it, thus allowing the Valkor to spew flame at will. As they burrowed deeper and deeper into the land, forming an underground world of tunnels and caverns, the population of slaves followed behind, polishing and carving and finishing Colton’s domain.

  The Valkor were four legged beasts with long tails, tipped with spikes. Their skin was smooth and shiny, streaked with black and green, and it sweated incessantly, dripping an incandescent greenish liquid that acted like a cooling system for the body and making the Valkor glisten even in the dark of the caves. Colton had them trained well, and when ridden by his most trusted few, they were formidable warriors. They were vulnerable only in a few places. Their fat underbellies were hardened and tough through years of scraping upon the rough floors of the caverns and the slimy skin was like a sea sponge, porous and buoyant, though almost impenetrable. All but the strongest tipped shafts bounced off of it, as it seemingly absorbed inches of the shaft before it ejected it with a force that sent it flying in the opposite direction.

  The Valkor’s eyes were shielded by two eyelids, one opaque and one solid. The only time they were both tightly shut was when the animal slept. The opaque lid protected the beast’s large eyes from the powder created as the coal was scraped and mined. The Valkor’s jaws were wide and flat, lined with two rows of teeth, the first long and sharp, able to rip through the rock bed, while the second row consisted of flat, broad molars that crushed the coal or its unfortunate prey into a pulpy liquid. Behind the elongated head of the animal was a flap of skin concealing an additional air hole, somewhat like a sea mammal’s, that allowed the steam created by the combustion of the digesting coal to escape.

  The surest way to cripple a Valkor was through this hole. A strong spike, shoved into the funnel-like orifice, would quickly put the beast to sleep permanently. But it was no simple task to accomplish, and therefore, the Valkor were among the fiercest animals on the planet. Colton had been breeding them for tiels, and he treated them with more care and concern than his more intelligent slaves whose welfare he casually disregarded.

  To be given the honor of riding a Valkor into battle was one of the highest compliments Colton dar Agonthea would ever pay to a vassal. But, it was not granted without a steep price. Colton would not tolerate the loss of a Valkor in combat, and if one should die under its rider, the rider was doomed. Yet, anything but a natural death was rare for one of these forbidding beasts, thus assuring its rider of a lofty spot in the hierarchy of Sedahar.

  Colton’s mood was foul this evening, and thus all those within striking range shuddered and cowered and did their best to remain out of his sight. So far, he had been unsuccessful in locating the boy. That stupid son of the Duke of Talamar returned empty handed to his father’s castle, forcing him to eliminate the old man and his pathetic wife, teaching the son an invaluable lesson.

  This foolish, inexperienced Duke will now understand just how serious I am. He will never chance failing me in the future when I call upon him to serve.

  For that reason alone, Kettin’s malfeasance was worthwhile. Colton knew he would have to watch out for Fobush, though. He harbored no love for the young Duke, and his loyalty would be questionable in the days ahead. Colton intended to advance upon Talamar shortly, realizing that he needed to secure the mountain pass very soon. He could certainly outwit the previous Duke’s defenses relatively easily, as he had so recently proven, but a smarter foe, one less arrogant and more intelligent might pose a problem.

  The terrain was difficult to traverse for any aggressor, and the natural obstacles added a tremendous advantage to the defending army. He would subdue them easily now while they were in disarray, and he could use the fragrant oil of Talamar for his own purposes. The people would also be an asset to his cause. They would not resist, he knew, and he could easily use them and sacrifice them with no regrets. The Talamarans were loyal to their own pockets and stomachs, nothing more. He would need only threaten them and they would obey, and he could use them to draw his enemy away from the true center of his concern.

  Colton sat in the tower room of his palace, high above the coal, black hills of Sedahar. The air around him sizzled with manic power as he contemplated his next move. He cast his sight outwards, as far as his realm extended, searching for a sign of the heir, frustrating himself over and over again, knowing that he would not find him here in the dead lands where no Lalas dared to grow, but he searched nonetheless. Relentlessly, he scoured the land for a hint of his presence, until he shrieked with frustration. The foul sound echoed throughout the palace, and his slaves hid their heads and crawled under tables and behind cabinets, hiding wherever they could, terrified and forsaken, yet totally enraptured by their Lord. Their love for him was far greater than their fear. Controlling them. Owning them.

  Trialla, too, cowered in the corner of her cell, covering her ears and trembling all over. He will not he merciful tonight, she thought with both revulsion and excitement, unless the answers I seek come to me forthwith. She hoped she would have news for him this evening, as the plan she put into effect some weeks ago was now reaching fruition.

  She adjusted the soiled shawl that shrouded her filthy hair, making sure that it concealed the empty socket that once held her left eye. The cute, innocent cat with the long, straggly fur that she secreted out of the castle in Gwendolen during the final moments was going to be a very important little animal. Her eye shone brightly beneath its fur, not obvious at a casual glance, hidden from view just above its own two, natural eyes. Trialla was proud of her effort here, of her sacrifice for Colton, and she knew that he would be so grateful if she succeeded. He promised to make her beautiful once again and she knew that it was in his power to restore her eye. He could do anything! She would be whole again as soon as she found the wretched boy.

  The wily cat had managed to evade all the natural obstacles that it encountered on its way to Pardatha. She saw clearly now, through her own single eye gleaming hideously in its forehead, as the small animal approached the courtyard of Baladar’s castle, albeit from a lower perspective than she was accustomed to. This little beast, once the playmate of the heir himself, was the perfect foil for Trialla’s plans. No one would suspect the adorable thing, and its agility and cleverness would allow it to gain access to wherever it chose to go. Having known the boy intimately, the cat would surely be able to recognize his odor, and all she really wanted was evidence of his casting, a small token that confirmed that Mira, that horrible spoiler, that doting nursemaid, that accursed busybody, had in fact chosen Pardatha as his place of refuge.

  It had been in Baladar’s castle for some time now, searching out its former master. Now, she watched expectantly as the cat wound its way up the tower stairway, deftly avoiding most living things, quiet and light footed, lithe and crafty. She had taught it well. She laughed to herself at how easily the boy’s pet responded to her training, and how readily its body accepted her eye and adapted to its presence. She had not even come close to killing it, as she feared she might when she first began to experiment with the process, the results of which were better than she had ever dream
ed possible.

  Trialla found it simpler than she expected it to be to ‘educate’ the little thing afterwards. The only shortcoming subsequent to the completion of the process was that she had to endure vision without sound and without smell, an incomplete picture of reality. But, it was certainly worth it considering there was no risk of her being discovered. Trialla luxuriated in the safety of her voyeurism, anxiously anticipating the next scene, almost bursting with excitement while quivering with exhilaration at the thought of how sweet Colton’s reaction to her ultimate success would be.

  The darling pet, unaware of its grotesque mutation, wandered purposefully up the stairs, each corner opening up a new and exciting vista to the old witch woman huddled in her squalid quarters. As it moved purposefully from left to right searching out every niche and looking behind each piece of furniture, she tingled with anticipation. Suddenly, the cat raised its head and sniffed the air with a sense of recognition. It looked everywhere as its tail snapped quickly back and forth while it searched for the scent that reached its small nostrils. Trialla watched through the one eye, as the cat methodically inched its way forward.

  She just wanted a sign, a token that would prove that the boy was there somewhere. She could not afford to be wrong, and the old woman knew that she needed proof to bring to her master, some evidence she could present him with that was indisputable. If she could only find something that would demonstrate that she had guessed correctly, that her intuition alone was worthy of his attention, perhaps he would look kindly upon her and bestow his approval upon her. She salivated at the thought of his approbation and her old body throbbed with the contemplation thereof.

  “Where else would that woman have cast him if not for Pardatha?” After a pause, she continued, “The woman was a fool! She believed in fairy tales and she never tired of repeating those childish stories of the northern provinces to the heir. She fed him with nonsense about the safety that the north afforded its people, with all of those damned trees!