The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  Cairn was silent. So much was happening so fast. He knew in his heart that Tomas was correct and that he could not protect him from his fate, whatever that might be. In so doing, he could be sealing it himself for all he knew. He would have to be reasonable, and yet he would have to let his heart guide him as well. All of the logic and ethics and metaphysics he devoted his life to studying heretofore was useless to him now. He knew that he had to allow this seemingly vulnerable, young man to walk into the midst of the maelstrom, come what may. He accepted that. He would not stop him, but he would do all in his power to protect him from harm.

  Tomas looked deeply into Cairn’s eyes for just a moment, then he abruptly turned, stepped in front of the elder man and led the way down the narrow, winding path toward Pardatha. Cairn, Calyx and Preston followed closely behind, each consumed by the moment, yet drawn persuasively and inevitably toward the future.

  Chapter Forty

  Colton arranged his attack in such a manner so as to exhaust the defenses of the city quickly by forcing them to repel the vast numbers of Orcs continually, for hours at a time. He had no doubt that those who fought for him would do so until the end, for they knew that retreat was a far worse option than death. Pressing the Ore army forward was a battalion of Trolls, their hated rivals, as anxious to slaughter them as those in the city itself. Colton cared not about how many he lost in the battle. He was concerned only with victory, and these initial skirmishes were designed merely to test the city’s defenses and to weaken them. Each and every one of the Orcs could perish for all he cared. Their lives were meaningless to him. All life was meaningless to him, even his own, making him the most dangerous of enemies.

  Wave upon wave of dark-skinned beasts threw themselves against the stone walls of the city, only to fall beneath the weight of the boulders cast down upon them from above. Those behind them climbed atop their dead and dying brethren and continued their assault, mindless and frenzied. The soldiers of Pardatha worked tirelessly, changing shifts only when absolutely necessary, and the people of the city provided a new and continuous supply of missiles, quarried from the hard rock of the Thorndars. A chain of supply was established from one end of Pardatha to the other, originating in the caves at the south of the city and terminating at the battlements surrounding the gates. The mountains offered a limitless stock to the fighters atop the walls, and the Orcs fell by the thousands beneath the weight of the peaks’ issue. Colton drove them forward nevertheless, sending them to certain doom, and they obeyed him, never questioning, never hesitating.

  The mound of the dead and dying grew higher and higher, and Grogan became concerned that the ever increasing piles would eventually provide a platform upon which the beasts could climb and ultimately scale the walls. He instructed the archers to send arrows tipped with a hemp, saturated with oil and set ablaze, into the growing heaps beneath them. The rough rags of the deceased and injured Orcs caught afire quickly, and the bowmen used their long bows to send the arrows deep into the mass below. The fires spread surely, igniting the corpses from the bottom and emanating outward and upward, consuming not only those already dead, but all of the others who had scaled the piles in order to reach the walls and hack away at the stones with their clubs and axes.

  The blaze grew to an enormous size, roaring and igniting the now darkening sky, enveloping the battlefield in an oily stench that even those high above could barely tolerate. But the city’s defenses were effective, and although the multitudes that Colton saw fit to waste upon the walls in this manner seemed inexhaustible, the fervor with which the fat and ugly Orcs initially attacked Pardatha had now died down somewhat. They continued to climb upon the broken backs of their brothers, and their incredible stupidity kept them from assessing the consequences soon enough to prevent them from suffering the same fate.

  The piles of the dead and dying grew larger by the hour, but they kept coming. The embers glowed a sickening red, and the heat was so intense that even as they neared the walls, some burst into flame spontaneously and ran around in circles, howling in pain. It was a bizarre and gruesome scene beneath the great, stone walls of Pardatha that evening.

  As the sun set over the city for the first time since the attack began, the fires illuminated the night, and they burned so bright that they rivaled the light that came before, in an eerie and disorienting fashion. Baladar walked the length of the battlements, feeling the heat wafting over him, speaking words of encouragement to the determined defenders and all the time assessing the extent of the damage they were inflicting upon the enemy. The waste of life sickened him, yet he knew that he could not allow anyone garrisoned within Pardatha to feel anything other than revulsion for the attackers. Battles such as this required a steadfastness and fortitude on the part of his warriors in the face of these overwhelming numerical handicaps.

  Baladar knew that these minor victories so early on meant nothing in the scope of things, but they did serve to raise the spirits of his people, if only for a short while. He knew that this one barrage was but the first wave in an endless ocean of assaults yet to come. In his heart of hearts, Baladar grieved for his people, for the illusion of victory they perceived, for the superhuman efforts they put forth while not understanding the ultimate futility of them. The one seed of hope that germinated in his heart was born of Davmiran’s ability to survive despite the fate of Pardatha. Upon this, Baladar took nourishment and found reason to go on, to continue to fight against all the overwhelming odds and to maintain his sanity in the midst of this macabre dance of death.

  Colton turned his back in disgust upon the efforts of his lackeys, and he rode his horse to the shelter of the tents, never once thinking to call an end to this extravagant waste of life, but rather insisting that it continue long into the night, knowing that his supply of bodies was almost endless. Unlike Baladar, he cared nothing for the feelings of those who fought for him. They were mere sparks to him used to ignite the fire and soon to die after their simple task was accomplished. All life was expendable to him. All life had to end, and the greater the tragedy, the greater the triumph.

  Tomorrow he would have his men clear the battlefield of the dead if the fires did not do it for him first, and then he would attack once again with other men and other monsters. He would repeat this process until the city of Pardatha could fight no longer, and then he would find the boy. If Baladar was telling the truth and the heir was elsewhere, he would raze the city to the ground and adorn the rubble with the heads of Baladar and his councilors. There was no escaping Colton dar Agonthea, death bringer!

  This boy was yet untrained, helpless and impotent, and as long as he found him before he attained his powers, before he realized his potential, there would be no stopping the Evil One either. The darkness would prevail, smothering all life, hastening the demise, and the sweet smell of victory would be his to savor eternally.

  Chapter Forty-one

  “We cannot simply fend off whatever he throws against us. Eventually we will tire. His numbers are too vast for us to overcome. We must do something more!” Filaree said to the council while standing beside the massive table with both of her hands resting flat upon it.

  “What else have we to do, Lady?” Thembak the woodsman, asked. “We cannot open the gates and charge his lines. What further do you propose?” he continued.

  “The woodsman is right, Lady Filaree. We have little choice but to defend ourselves. Any offensive action on our part would not be productive,” Grogan commented from his place next to Baladar.

  “He knows we cannot stay locked in here forever. He also does not care how many of his own men he sacrifices. How can we fight against an enemy such as this?” Pertar of Axlon asked from the other end of the chamber.

  “I would rather be inside Pardatha than elsewhere right now, Pertar. At least we have a chance here. But we still have no plan, no strategy,” Thembak admitted.

  “Our strategy is simply to survive and to pray,” Mistress Marna said solemnly.

  Robyn had rem
ained in the background, intensely following the direction of the conversation. He listened to every word his companions said. Finally he spoke, though it was almost as if he was speaking to himself.

  “We have other means of weakening Colton’s forces,” he said pensively, without standing or raising his head. “Not all battles need be fought with steel and stone,” he concluded, still staring blindly ahead.

  Baladar turned his head in his direction, as all eyes focused upon the dark and handsome man from Tamarand.

  “What have you in mind, Robyn?” Baladar asked.

  “Yes, tell us!” Thembak said rising up from the table and knocking his chair over backward in his haste.

  Robyn closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, forming a steeple with his two index fingers, and then he rested his elbows upon the heavy stone of the table. He seemed to be communicating with someone or something other than those in his immediate vicinity.

  “I am not sure, my Lord, but the fields you planted many years ago willingly responded to my advances before. Perhaps they will do so again,” he answered, raising his eyes quizzically now. There was an idea germinating in his mind. Although I cannot destroy the forces before us, I believe that I can frighten them and disorient them somewhat. If I can turn them against themselves, capitalize upon their own internal rivalries, their own fears, we can let them do some of our work for us,” he finished.

  “Whatever aid you may require, please request it now. I am sure that I can speak for us all when I say that whatever it is you need, we will gladly oblige, Chosen,” Baladar remarked, looking at Robyn eagerly while everyone else at the council table nodded enthusiastically in response.

  There was no question that everyone present trusted the Chosen from the north implicitly.

  “I have some ideas that I would like to share with the council,” Robyn said, and he stood up and faced the group.

  He spent a good amount of time attempting to explain to the warriors and councilors at the large table what they all instinctively knew about the forces battling for Pardatha, but may not have ever analyzed quite this way before. He spoke of good and evil, of the natural and the unnatural and about the triumph of the right way and dissolution. He instructed those present on many matters that his own Promanthea had spent so many years teaching him about. He could not hope to school them in the arts that a Chosen devoted his lifetime to learn, but he could help them to appreciate the true meaning of the threat to the balance that Colton was propagating here and now.

  He needed all of the leaders to feel empowered, to realize that the abilities that he manifested were available to all of them in different degrees. The dormant power in all of nature had to be harnessed if they had any hope of defeating Colton, and these council members were the most likely ones to achieve that goal.

  “I have been trained to fight all of my life, and I have never used anything other than steel and my own wits. Now you are telling me that I had other resources available to me all along?” Filaree questioned, confused, though not doubting the veracity of Robyn’s words.

  “Did you not utilize the direction of the wind, the blinding sun, the freezing rain during your encounters, Lady? Do you not gauge your chances and take advantage of your opportunities in each and every fight? What makes you so superb at what you do? Have you not been all along intensely aware, although intuitively perhaps, of your opponent’s footing, his state of mind, of all of those small assessments that give you an upper hand during the heat of battle?”

  Filaree nodded, thinking about what Robyn was saying and examining the process she used when preparing for a fight.

  “We Chosen are just men and women before we are trained. Our senses may be more enhanced and our intuitions may be stronger, but we are no different than any of you until we are schooled. What makes you all sentient and what brings us all here together, fighting for what we know is right, is what will allow you to harness the forces that surround us all of the time, the forces that will allow us to defeat the enemy before us, or at least to hurt him and slow his advance!” Robyn said.

  “I share Robyn’s sentiments,” Baladar interrupted him. “And I too, in my own manner, manipulate my environment based upon the forces he is referring to. The power is here for us all. Our enemy cannot touch it. He attempts only to sever the bonds that unite us with the power. His strength comes from the void, from an absence of light, and ours comes directly from life itself.”

  “If any of you have ever seen the wonders of Lormarion you would know that what they speak of is true!” Elion exclaimed. “Nature is our friend and we are all a part of the circle of life. When we work together, we produce miracles!” he said excitedly.

  “My Lord, members of the council,” Grogan stood and addressed the group. “It is too late to learn how to fight differently than we have been trained to do. All of these ideas are new and confusing to me, and although I never claimed to be a scholar or erudite, I fail to see how these thoughts will help us today when the Trolls are knocking upon the gates as we speak,” he said.

  “They will help some of us, Grogan, perhaps not all of us,” Baladar said with no condescension in his tone.

  “We must be willing to open our hearts and minds to all possibilities now,” Elion offered.

  “We must face the facts here!” Filaree interrupted. “We are outnumbered. We cannot hold out indefinitely, and that’s assuming we can withstand the full force of Colton’s attack to begin with. If anyone is, I am the eternal optimist, but I am also quite adept at assessing my opponent’s chances. In this case, I must admit that his chances are good,” she said seriously.

  “What has become of the stalwart from before?” Baladar questioned her with a sad tone in his voice.

  “I prefer reality to illusion, my Lord. But, I never said that I am ready to give up. I will fight to the very end!” she answered, he back as straight as her sword. “But if my optimism serves to obfuscate our ability to appraise our situation properly, then it serves the enemy and that I will not allow!” she responded determinedly.

  “We must listen to all our options no matter how unusual they may seem at first,” Robyn interjected, with a quiet sternness in his voice. “With my help, I believe that together we can harness the power that exists within all living things, and use it against our assailants,” he said.

  A hush descended over the group, as they all heard for the first time what Robyn had in mind. Some understood better than others what the Chosen one was describing, but everyone sitting at the war council was willing to do whatever he or she could do to preserve the world they loved so dearly, regardless of whether or not it made sense to them.

  Baladar was a sorcerer in his own right, and although his powers were not derived from the fabric of life, the very essence of existence, as were those of a Chosen, he was familiar with the forces greater than himself and he was encouraged by Robyn’s ideas. Baladar was a medium for power, not a molder and shaper of it. He could release what already existed and then focus it to perform certain tasks, which to many was no small accomplishment. Robyn though, was a master, as were all of the Chosen, and his abilities far exceeded those of Baladar.

  “What would you have us do, Robyn dar Tamarand?” Baladar asked, and the others gazed expectantly upon the Chosen one’s face.

  Robyn focused intently upon the serious countenances surrounding him, and then he spoke in a hushed voice, “When the time comes, when the next attack is underway, we will need to clasp one another’s hands around this table and meld our minds together. I will need to find a talisman, a relic, for us all to focus upon, and within it, I will concentrate all of the energy we emit. There is a good chance that the item may not survive the trial,” he explained. “You will all have to release yourselves completely into my care and not give in to the impulse to remain in control. I will need your full and total trust. If I am successful, I hope to split the army in two, separate the legs from the body, and strand a part of Colton’s force beneath our walls.
We cannot take the Evil One on directly at this time. I know we are not ready for that, so I hope that he follows the same pattern as before and sends his slaves alone to perform his dark deeds, while he lingers in the background. By the time he realizes what is happening, it will be too late. Although we will not kill the beast, we will certainly be able to cause it considerable pain,” Robyn said hopefully.

  “You say that you will divide his army? How? What weapon do we have that I am unaware of that could accomplish such a task?” Grogan questioned, confused.

  “I felt before the vitality of that which grows beneath the plains of Pardatha, as I mentioned prior. Because you cannot see it, master Grogan, does not mean that it does not exist,” Robyn partially answered while not intending to belittle the Master at Arms.

  “What will you do with it, Robyn?” Filaree asked, seeming to follow his train of thought.

  “I am not certain, Lady Filaree. These things are often indeterminate. I can try to initiate an action and guide the forces involved. Nevertheless, I cannot always predict the exact outcome. But, I can assure all of you…” Robyn pounded upon the stone table, “…that every living thing, whether conscious or not, feels the wrongness of Colton. And everything that is alive instinctively rebels against him. I must tap into that sense, that natural revulsion, and attempt to organize it into an active weapon.”

  “What you say makes much sense,” Baladar commented, sitting back in his chair “But, can you do this? And what risks are involved, Robyn?”

  “The risks are to me alone. It is exhausting at the least, and at the worst, if I have miscalculated and the life I speak of has already been corrupted, or if Colton suspects what I am trying to do and attempts to thwart me while the link is active, I may not be able to regain my consciousness. The rest of you have nothing to fear. You will simply open your eyes as if nothing has happened,” he answered.