The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “They will not help her now, those relics of the past, those withered pieces of firewood! No, not now. Nothing can help either of them now. Once I find him I will be beautiful again, and I will have power, more power than they could ever have dreamed of! That spoiled boy will bow to me, as I did to his family for so many years!”

  Trialla had traveled further and further down the path of insanity these past months, not seeing the darkness for what it was, not recognizing the limits of her role. She actually believed that her efforts would earn her privilege and authority, that Colton dar Agonthea was governed by the same rules that governed the rest of the world, that he would be fair and acknowledge her loyalty and labor, and finally thank her for her sacrifice.

  “I must find that little brat! Go, kitty, kitty, kitty. He has to be there somewhere. Sniff, sniff, kitty. You will find him. Yes, kitty, kitty, kitty, that’s right, keep going, don’t stop now,” she coaxed, as the little kitten wandered the quiet halls of castle Pardatha.

  Out of the corner of her lone eye perched grotesquely on the top of the cat’s forehead, she spotted a bundle lying under a table a short distance ahead. From the cat’s viewpoint on the ground it seemed gigantic, and to Trialla it also seemed vaguely familiar. The cat crept carefully toward it, hugging the wall as it pressed forward. Trialla’s excitement was growing uncontrollably with each step of the cat’s paws. By this time, she was standing with her remaining one eye closed, hopping up and down expectantly, gleefully spinning as she bounced around.

  “This must be it! Go closer, kitty, kitty, kitty. I recognize that cloth. Closer! That’s right, kitty, kitty,” she urged from her cell. “Step right on it. Good, good. Now, kitty, use your paws, move it around just a tiny bit. Yes, just like that, you dear, dear little cat.”

  The cat recognized the familiar odor of Mira’s cape and brushed against it as if it was the woman’s leg, unfolding it some as it did so. The Gwendolen crest was suddenly visible right in the middle of the back of the partially spread out cape that Dalek, Baladar’s second, had carelessly kicked under the sideboard when he first brought the heir to his Lord’s chamber. As the cat kneaded it with its front paws and began to roll atop it trying to get as close to the smell of home as it could, the familiar garment unfolded even more.

  As soon as the emblem came into view, Trialla stopped dancing around and she stood motionless in the middle of her room, staring at the hated crest through her own displaced eye, mesmerized by the symbol of the family she despised so much.

  “I have done it!” she screeched. “I found him! Mira’s cape! The boy is there, as I said, as I predicted! I was right all along! I was right!” she rejoiced finally, cavorting around in her cell like the madwoman that she was.

  Trialla had no way of informing Colton of what had just transpired, but she was so excited, so ecstatic at her discovery, that she moved to the door of her chamber and beckoned as loudly as she comfortably could down the narrow stairway.

  “My Lord? Where are you, master? I have something to tell you! Please, won’t somebody fetch him to me? Please, somebody, help! It will be worth your while if you aid me now. I will not forget you.”

  She began to raise her voice, frustrated at the total lack of response.

  “What is wrong with everyone? Can’t you hear me? Colton needs me! He will be very angry with you if you do not tell him that I have important information for him,” she continued to rave.

  The servants in the hallways heard what sounded much like the many other prisoners who had been incarcerated in this chamber over time. They were unmoved by the old witch’s pleading and hardly noticed her entreaties. Trialla grew more and more agitated with the passing moments, shaking the small bars on the one opening in the door, kicking the heavy metal with her foot and doing more damage to herself than to the chamber.

  “You idiots! Don’t you hear what I am saying? I need to speak to the master! I have news for him that he wants and needs. If you do not help me, then when he finds out, he will kill you! Someone? Is anybody listening to me?” she hollered, losing all of her remaining patience in the face of overwhelming frustration.

  Trialla turned away from the door in dismay and was startled to find Colton standing by the small window at the other end of the room.

  “You need yell no longer, witch. I am here.” His voice was so loving, yet so venomous at the same time it made her cringe even as she beamed up at him. “What is it that you have to tell me that compelled you to agitate the entire population of this tower?”

  “My Lord, my master, I have done what you asked. I have found the boy!” she blurted out, bowing down before his feet, humbled and frightened yet utterly excited.

  Colton focused his dark and empty eyes upon the woman, boring a hole in her bent head with the intensity of his gaze and compelling her to look up into his face. His gaze lifted her off of the ground, like a puppet on a string, and she dangled limply, her toes scraping the floor. Colton ravaged her mind, his thoughts tearing through her inanimate body. After a time, he spoke, his voice emotionless. “You have done well, woman.” He let her fall softly to the floor. “Your methods make me proud.” He pressed his hand to her matted hair.

  The wretched lady responded to his caress like a well trained pet, crouching at his ankles, absorbing his touch.

  “So, he is there after all! Your suspicions were accurate, Trialla.” As he spoke her name, she preened like a mating bird, responding to every nuance in his voice.

  “I try to please, master,” she finally uttered, looking up at him sheepishly out of her one eye.

  “That is your job, woman,” he retorted.

  “Will you help me now, my Lord? Will you make me beautiful again?” she finally asked, suppressing her fear and keeping her head bent to the ground.

  “Are you not beautiful now?” he responded, feigning shock. “Would you allow me to gaze upon ugliness? You insult me.”

  “I meant no disrespect, master,” she whimpered, nearly swooning with guilt. She cowered, burying her head in her filthy rags and trying to hide from his sight. “I just thought… you might grant my wish. After I found the boy for you,” she muttered, peeking out from under her tattered gown.

  Colton spun around in a fury, sucking all the loose objects in the small room toward him in a whirlwind of debris. Reaching backwards with his hand, he motioned for Trialla to attend him near the window and involuntarily, her body rose and awkwardly strutted to his side.

  “Do you see the hills yonder, woman?” he asked, pressing her face to the window with his power. “Beyond them lies the city of Pardatha and the boy. When the heir is safely in my hands, then and only then will I consider your desires.” His voice was soft as velvet, but underneath, there was a sharpness that she could not mistake for anything other than the threat it was.

  Colton released her and Trialla collapsed onto the floor. Colton rose an inch or so off the dirt laden surface and floated toward the now open door, never looking back, never uttering another word. Upon his departure, the door slammed shut, violently rattling the hinges, while Trialla from her vantage point in the middle of the cold, stone floor, heard the locking pin slide into place, sealing her in once again.

  She rose and banged her tired head against the cold iron of the bars until she had no strength left to continue and her head throbbed with pain, then she fingered the empty socket that once housed her eye, weeping all the while but still craving the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, the abusive yet seductive presence of Colton, the Evil One, the harbinger of dissolution.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The sun rose strong and bright, cascading in a wave over the eastern hills, gradually illuminating the vastness of the forest before them. Cameron hastened to the horses while Filaree began to prepare a small, morning meal, both of them unable to take their eyes off of the woods ahead. Their sleep was restful, and they both were in good spirits as they finished their chores and sat down for a minute or two to eat and drink the refres
hing cider Filaree poured from a soft flask. She fondled the black tree pendant beneath her blouse, as she contemplated the imminent ride.

  “Let’s be off, Cameron. The sun is up and we shouldn’t waste any more time here,” Filaree said.

  “Yes, my Lady,” he responded as he rose and walked to Nico, placing the small, soft saddle on the mare’s back and tightening the girth.

  His own stallion Trojan, whinnied expectantly and he gently placed the saddle over his broad back as well.

  Once mounted, Filaree removed the necklace from under her shirt and displayed it prominently, without saying a word about it. She urged Nico onward toward the opening in the trees that had only just revealed itself to her. She knew that it was not there but a moment ago. Cameron followed closely behind, though he was not as comfortable as she was and he was unwilling to stray too far from her side.

  As soon as they were fully within the tree line, a musty odor reached their nostrils. It was not unpleasant in any way, but it pervaded every intake of air, making them both feel as if they were ingesting the very trees themselves. The path wound deeply into the forest, giving them no choice but the one before them. Filaree glanced backwards at Cameron to make sure that he was close behind, and to her surprise, the path they had just traversed was gone; the trees had filled in the space as if it never existed. Although it shocked her at first glance, it did not cause her concern, but rather it afforded her with a sense of security and comfort that calmed her considerably. She knew as soon as she stepped foot into the Winding Woods that there was no turning back, and now she was certain of that.

  They walked on for quite some time, still able to see the sun rising in the sky through the dense treetops. The wind rushed through the leaves of the many and varied trees, creating a harmonious clatter of divergent sounds. Animals seemed to rush about, and Cameron was certain at one point that he saw a small rodent under the brush, but upon closer examination, he began to doubt his initial belief. The leaves just moved as if they were concealing other living things; they shifted in waves, making it seem like the foliage itself was alive both above their heads and beneath their feet. Cameron too, soon noticed that as quickly as he crossed the path ahead, the trees moved in behind him, concealing the trail and making it appear as if the walkway was never really there at all. Neither Filaree nor Cameron could actually see the movement of the trees, as the light breaking intermittently through the branches played tricks upon their vision. But sure enough, whenever either of them looked backwards, the path behind them was gone and a new and formidable wall of heavy foliage abutted them to the rear.

  As they moved forward, the trees grew denser around them, the path grew narrower and the odor grew deeper and more intense. The air was greenish in appearance, as the sun filtered its way down to them through the deep vegetation. They began to feel themselves as if they were becoming a part of the forest, as if they were absorbing it into their bodies through all of their orifices, as if they would soon become green too and start sprouting leaves from their skin and pores. The black tree pendant resting upon Filaree’s chest glowed with a power of its own, creating a strange aura around the two travelers and piercing the greenish glow with a warm, white radiance.

  They wandered on, following the path before them, winding deeper and deeper into the depths of the woods. Cameron began to feel as if the forest was pushing him forward and closing in behind him faster than he was able to travel.

  “My Lady, I get the feeling that we should be moving more swiftly, that the trees will eat us up if we do not hasten our pace.”

  “I know what you mean. I too feel as if they are urging us forward more quickly than we have chosen to go. Let’s heed their request,” she responded, and she pressed her knees into Nico’s sides causing her to bolt ahead. Cameron and Trojan followed closely behind, but within a moment’s time the forest was at their backs once again. They spurred their mounts on even faster, but to no avail. Filaree kept glancing back over her shoulder, hoping to find that they had gained some space between themselves and the encroaching woods, but the opposite was in fact the case.

  She happened to look back upon Cameron’s face, to ascertain whether or not his fear of this type of encounter was getting the better of him, and she noticed that he was swaying slightly in his saddle and that his eyes were almost half closed.

  “Cameron! What’s wrong? You can’t fall asleep now!” Filaree pulled back on Nico’s mane, signaling her to slow down, and then she reached back to shake Cameron by the shoulders. He appeared to be in a daze and was barely hearing her as she spoke to him.

  “Wake up, friend. Stay alert. You mustn’t doze! You will lose your seat entirely,” she said, but her words had no effect and in fact, she suddenly found herself barely able to keep her own eyes open. The pungent, mossy odor was overwhelming her senses and her vision was becoming obscured.

  There was a deep, greenish haze all around her now, and she tasted the leaves and the pine needles as she inhaled, feeling their essence entering through all of the openings and pores of her body and spreading quickly through her veins. Filaree shook her head once, then again, and then she raised her chin up to gaze at the shrouded sky. As she did so she saw Cameron slip limply from his saddle and land heavily upon the ground. By this time, Nico was barely advancing and Trojan too was standing with his usually strong head hanging dolefully down, almost to the ground itself, walking blindly forward.

  Filaree tried as hard as she could to remain awake, fighting the impulse to let go and fall onto the soft, beckoning moss below. Abruptly, she pulled back upon her horse’s mane once more, signaling Nico to halt so that she could assist Cameron. Her mare barely needed the suggestion, as she too was hardly awake any longer. Filaree knew what she needed to do, but her body refused to respond to her direction anymore, as the forest continued to close in about them. The branches were gently brushing up against her face and arms now, and they were becoming more and more dense, obscuring what little light remained. Cameron’s horse, unsuspecting, reared up instead of crashing into Filaree, and then whinnied in confusion.

  Filaree dismounted, or rather, slid to the ground, and with her hands upon her hips in a defiant stance, faced the wall of trees and said, “I come in peace! I wish only to cross through your realm, not make my home in it.”

  The trees appeared to converse with one another in a jangle of rustling vegetation and swaying movements. Through her tinged sight, she watched as the entire forest seemed to come alive with activity.

  Looking from side to side now and not really knowing whom to address, she continued, “My father was a friend of the Winding Woods and he gave me this token.” Weakly, she held the black tree aloft and its glow brightened the space immediately around her and enveloped her in its otherworldly radiance. “He told me that it would protect me here, that I had nothing to fear if I traveled within your realm. Did he speak the truth?”

  The tangle of dense vegetation reacted to her remarks by swaying and clattering more animatedly than before.

  Cameron lay sprawled upon the soft ground nearby. Graceful blades of grass were sprouting up between his fingers and around his neck and face, caressing his hands and body. Filaree looked down at her feet and saw in astonishment that tendrils, small shoots from the surrounding trees, were encircling her ankles as well and tenderly wrapping themselves around her calves while all along, what she saw through her eyes was becoming a deeper green in color.

  She struggled to find the strength to stand erect, to not succumb to the desire to lie down and sleep, while never letting the black tree fall from her uplifted hand. The leaves began to rustle in the big tree to their left, yet no wind passed through the area. Then to the right she heard a similar noise, but the air was still calm. The creaking of the branches became more frequent as well, and the leaves lifted in response as if the trees were carrying on a conversation in a language all their own.

  This went on for some time, and Filaree stood patiently and respectfully, having no
t the strength to interrupt the cacophony and challenge their hosts with human words, awake enough to merely listen. But she could not help but notice that moment by moment Cameron was becoming more and more a part of the earth and grass upon which he lay. Her concern for him mounted steadily, but she was unable to do anything to assist him at this time, contending with the problem of keeping herself awake and alert, knowing in her heart that if she gave in and closed her eyes, she might never be able to open them again.

  Suddenly, as if a strong wind blew through the forest from all directions, the leaves began to whisper in their strange language all at once and the branches began to creak more and more clamorously in unison now. The sound began to spread throughout the entire woods, until the noise reached a crescendo so incredibly loud that it almost forced her to cover her ears in order to endure it. And then it all stopped as suddenly and completely as it began. The silence was so complete that it was deafening, and Filaree, with Cameron resting close at her side, raised her head nobly, her chin high above her chest, and held the black tree aloft before her, pivoting from side to side and exhibiting it for all to see.

  She stood that way in utter silence for some time, swaying slightly from drowsiness, and she waited. It was so difficult for her to actually witness the trees uprooting themselves and moving that she was uncertain exactly how they appeared in places they were not just moments before. Her reflexes were sluggish and her senses were dulled, while she continued to peer out through heavy eyelids as if she was drugged.

  Abruptly, a score of tall, full willows leaned away from one another and they created an opening between them in which appeared a majestic, ancient looking tree, bent and crooked in parts, yet noble in appearance. Its vegetation was still lush, yet it was sparser than some of the others. It seemed to raise its branches in recognition of the travelers and to bow in its own fashion. Filaree curtsied politely, or she thought she did, and then she straightened up once more.