The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  The Lord of Pardatha was shocked by the carnage he witnessed. It occurred so quickly and it was so extensive that he feared the coming hours. He saw the dead and the dying everywhere, victims of both the fires and the deadly missiles dropping out of the skies. He was determined to find a way to stop this bloodshed and to end the fighting.

  “The condition is far graver than I suspected, friends,” Robyn said. “If this continues unabated, either the city will be a mass of charred ruins, or the walls will crumble upon us… or both!” he reasoned.

  “Is there nothing you can do to aid us this time?” Baladar inquired, agitated and desperate.

  “I only wish that there was. Without my full strength, anything I attempted to do could hurt us as easily as it could help. I am not presently strong enough to control the power. My senses are not receptive now. An incursion of force such as I experienced before has left me numb somewhat still. I am afraid this will last for a while. It would be reckless and irresponsible for me to try now, though I am tempted nonetheless,” Robyn replied. “It is possible that my efforts would aide the enemy more than they would help us. I cannot take that risk,” he concluded reluctantly.

  “I cannot simply watch as my people die and the city is reduced to ruin! There must be something we can do,” Baladar lamented, growing more and more worried as they rode on.

  “These invaders are possessed by the same evil that drives Colton dar Agonthea. They cannot distinguish good from bad and right from wrong. The only thing that they will respond to is fear. Pain will not even deter them from their path. Their master drives them ceaselessly toward the void, and he promises them freedom when they reach it. They are blinded by his vision,” Cairn commented.

  “Each missile strike emboldens them. Each fire that breaks out gives them more courage. They see that we are suffering and they believe that we are helpless to prevent it. They can taste victory and it is driving them wild!” Filaree remarked.

  Baladar listened intently to what Robyn, Cairn and Filaree had all just said. He agreed with them in their assessments, and a plan began to take shape in his mind. He was so saddened and frustrated by how seriously damaged the city was and by how many good citizens had lost their lives already, that he could barely look upon the havoc any longer. It broke his heart and devastated his soul.

  As he wandered the rubble strewn streets, he felt impotent and helpless. Women and children too were falling under the weight of the stones and succumbing to the rampant fires. This battle would spare no one. He dared not contemplate what a total breach of the walls would unleash upon the innocent citizens of Pardatha. Baladar looked from side to side as if in a dream, powerless to aid the suffering, and a little part of him died with each tragedy he was forced to pass by.

  He thought of his wife, of Briland, and of how much this city meant to her, how fully and totally she loved the people of Pardatha and he could not bear witnessing the havoc and waste for another moment. The beauty she had helped to create was being systematically decimated, and Baladar began to see the assault on his adored city as an assault on the very memory of Briland herself. He had to stop it somehow!

  They had all reached the gates by this time and they dismounted, ready to ascend the battlements and to survey the plains below. Filaree, Robyn and Cairn stood by the horses, talking in a small group.

  “You said something a moment ago that might help us,” Robyn blurted out, gaining their attention immediately. “You said that the only thing that they respond to is fear. If we can frighten them, if we can determine a way to undermine their confidence and to raise the specter of doubt in their minds, perhaps we can at least stop their advance. Fear motivates them more than most anything else,” he concluded.

  “Without the guidance of the Dark Lord, they will be vulnerable,” Cairn agreed.

  “What weapons have we in Pardatha that can have such an effect?” Filaree inquired, shaking her head.

  Cairn, Robyn and Filaree were so deep in conversation that they did not notice Baladar as he slipped away. Rather than climbing the battlements to survey the battlefield, he discretely walked toward the shelter of the gate house, scurrying inside before anyone saw where he went. He was confident that the group he left behind would do whatever they could, even in his absence.

  Baladar was growing more and more disturbed by the developing situations around him. He knew that there was little he could do from within the city walls, and he was not going to send any more of his soldiers to a certain death outside the gates. The mountain Trolls had planned their attack very well, and these powerful shooting machines that they must have carted all the way from the northern hills at great physical expense, were neither anticipated nor easy to defend against.

  He had underestimated the strength of this enemy, thinking that once they had stopped Colton himself, if only temporarily, they would have a respite from the tragedy of war. He miscalculated, and in his exuberance over their previous victory, he convinced himself that he neglected to keep a vigilant enough watch, and therefore he blamed himself. Now, citizens of his city were dying and there was no positive end in sight.

  If he could sneak out of the city unseen and covertly make his way to Everclear, then he could try to enlist the aid of Calista, the Lady of the Island. Surely she would understand his need and the need of his people, and perhaps she could help in some way. The last time that he visited her, he was filled with great hope and expectation. The young heir was beneath his roof and he had summoned those who would begin the process of educating him and training him. Now the situation was quite different, and he refused to allow himself to despair before he attempted all that he could to help his people.

  Calista was his one, last hope. He declined to accept her final admonition to him not to return the last time he left her. Baladar believed in his heart that she would allow him entry onto the island, that this noble woman would not refuse his plea. His entreaty was based upon dire need, and he believed that she could not but understand that and respond. Calista appeared to him to be the only source of light capable of blotting out the darkness that now mortally threatened the very future of Pardatha.

  He perceived the golden ring, hot beneath his shirt, as if it was speaking to him in a language he did not understand. So much had occurred these past few days that it was hard to absorb it all. He felt at times as if he was riding a wave on the ocean of life that was growing with each passing moment, gaining in size and strength, knowing that he was but a passenger, subject to its building and breaking. He needed now to take action in order to assist his people, and he could not allow himself to simply be tossed and turned aimlessly upon the waters.

  He could sit no longer in the city and watch as it slowly crumbled, dashing the hopes and prayers of every good and decent living being as it fell to pieces. If there was any chance of halting the enemy’s progress, he had to grasp for it now. It was his responsibility!

  How I wish Briland were here to help guide me on this difficult path, he thought as he hastened down the dark corridor.

  No one saw him as he donned a plain, grey cloak he found amongst the guard’s belongings. His dagger was at his belt, and he raised the simple hood over his head, concealing his features. He could not ride out of the city from this place, as his movement would surely be noticed. But Baladar knew more about Pardatha than anyone, and he remembered how Briland would sneak out to commune with Snihso, her tree, whenever she could not use the Noban gates for one reason or another.

  He had to double back on his previous path toward the stock yards, northeast of the city. There, he remembered a small tunnel that opened to the outside from within a shrine that had been out of use for tiels. His wife, Briland, had used this hidden portal to surreptitiously exit from the city if the need arose. He had accompanied his wife through this passageway once, on a beautiful, star filled evening, and he remembered fondly how they emerged from the tunnel arm in arm, the brilliant canopy above lighting their way, and walked together to the clearing wher
e Snihso grew. He remembered watching her that evening as she climbed into the arms of the tree she loved so dearly.

  She was so beautiful, he recalled, her image vivid in his mind’s eye. She had always wanted him to understand, as best as one who was not chosen could, the relationship she had with her tree, and she pleaded with him to join her at times, even if it meant that he just sat in the background and watched or read or thought. Briland was so concerned that he not be jealous of Snihso and that the three of them live in harmony as much as that was possible. Her tree seemed to understand, and it allowed for this singular relationship, this sharing, to continue, something which was so unusual for a Lalas, knowing in its own intuitive way that the bond of love between Briland and Baladar was a very special one.

  These memories flashed through his mind as he made his way to the old building that housed the ancient, out of use shrine. The people were rushing back and forth, some panic-stricken, some determined, yet all looking to help as best as they could nevertheless. He brushed past them all, his head bowed and his features concealed, until he found the isolated, abandoned building that he sought. After he discreetly entered through the decayed doorway, he moved quickly to the back of the room and pushed a dust strewn table and a broken and discarded statuette out of the way. A worn tapestry hung from one corner on the wall behind the abandoned podium and he walked toward it. A mouse scurried across the floor, leaving a long, thin trail in the dust, but Baladar barely noticed it, caught between his determination and reverie. He reached for the cloth and anxiously pushed it to the side, looking for the area in the wall upon which he had to press to release the latch. The particles clouded the air from the worn ornament and he fanned his hand in order to see.

  Baladar ran his fingers down the rough wall, feeling for the slight indentation that he sought. When he found it, he depressed it slightly and the doorway revealed itself. He needed to put all of his weight against it in order for it to give way, as the hinges were rusted and old and it had not been used for so long. It creaked open and a gust of damp, musty air wafted over him.

  When he was safely inside the tunnel, he reached to the left, remembering the hollow in the wall where Briland always kept an unused torch in the event she forgot to carry one with her. He smiled a sad smile as his fingers discovered what he had hoped they would, and he struck a small flint he had in his pocket against the stone wall and lit the light. The dry cloth burst into flame and then settled down to a deep, amber glow. Anxiously, he pushed the heavy door shut and walked down the pathway.

  The tunnel lead directly under the thick wall of the city and eventually terminated in the woods beyond the plains. It would not take him too long to reach the end and he did not anticipate that anything would disturb his progress down here. He jogged carefully, as the years had deposited more debris upon the floor than had been there previously.

  After he reached the clearing near where Snihso once grew, he would turn south and then walk directly to the lakeshore. Everclear was not easy to approach, he knew. It was certainly possible to draw near to what appeared to be the shore, only to discover that it was just an illusion. If Calista did not want intruders to find her realm then they did not, and he needed so desperately to be welcomed into her dominion this night.

  Baladar hoped that he would not have to return to the city as forlorn and dispirited as when he left. This was his last chance to save the people he cared so much about; his last chance to end the horror and provide all the people he knew and loved and tried to protect, with a safe and secure future. It was his last chance to do what his wife had given her life for; to help his people remain steadfast on their journey down the one true and noble path.

  If he could only stop this assault upon Pardatha, it would give him the time necessary to see that Cairn, Filaree and Robyn arrived at Seramour and revived the boy. Baladar wanted so much to accomplish this task. He believed that with the arrival of Tomas and the silver ring, the prophecy was becoming clearer. The Gem of Eternity could be found and the Lalas could be saved. He needed the Lady’s help, for he saw no other way of liberating Pardatha, and if the city fell, then all of his hopes for the future would be crushed beneath the tumbling stones of his beloved home.

  Baladar reached the end of the tunnel without ever having realized how far he had traveled, he was so engrossed in his thoughts. He knew that none of the enemy would be anywhere near the trap door that would let him out in the wooded area near the lake. It was too close to the place where Snihso had once lived for anyone to trespass therein. Baladar himself entered that area wary and cautious.

  He pushed on the heavy slab of stone that covered the opening and it sprang back on its hinges, sending a cascade of dry leaves and broken twigs tumbling onto his head. The earth around the exit was uneven and dangerous to traverse. In the near distance, he could see the vast hole in the ground that was once his wife’s tree. It was barren of all new growth and desolate beyond belief. His heart rose in his throat, as he stepped gingerly onto the lifeless earth.

  What a terrible shame. Sadness and regret welled up inside of him and caused his breath to come to him in broken gasps.

  He knew that he needed to move away quickly from this spot, before the devastation and despair overcame him once more. He scanned the area, remembering vividly the beauty that enveloped this place in days past. He fought the strange desire to enter the crater, the hollow, left by Snihso, knowing that it would spell his doom if he did. The gaping hole seemed to beckon him, to call him even by name. He was certain that he heard voices summoning him. Baladar strained to turn his eyes away and he compelled his feet to take the steps that would bring him out of this forsaken space.

  As soon as he turned his back upon this sorrowful scene he felt a little better, as his true purpose was once more looming before his mind’s eye. He reminded himself over and over again of his reason for coming here and of the people back in the city whose hopes rested upon his shoulders. He imagined his wife walking with him, hand in hand, and he raised his head and stepped determinedly away, painstakingly placing one foot in front of the other.

  Soon, he saw new growth beneath his feet and he smelled the sweet smell of berries and blossoms. His spirits lifted as he made his way to the portal that would lead him to Calista.

  As he walked through the forest, the path he followed wound and rambled and he lost his sense of direction entirely. He remembered the last time that he had visited the Lady of the Island and he was therefore not distressed by his perceptual confusion. In fact, knowing that he neared the realm of the Lady rejuvenated him despite how disoriented he seemed. He could have sworn he had already passed by this tree before and that he was retracing his steps without having doubled back. It seemed impossible to him, yet he accepted the paradoxical nature of the entire forest, and he kept walking.

  Calista had told him the last time that he had visited her that her lands would be closed to all outsiders from then on. He hoped that she would recognize his dire need and allow him to enter this night, and he plunged onward.

  Suddenly, he saw the portal before him, a doorway suspended in mid air shimmering in the light of the afternoon sun. He girded himself against the sensations that he knew would accompany his plunge through the opening, and without hesitating even slightly, he walked through it. He immediately lost all sense of space and time. He could no longer tell up from down or forward from backward, and he could not even feel the ground beneath his feet.

  In his ardor to save Pardatha, Baladar did not notice that the edges of the portal were blurred and indistinct. As he tumbled through the emptiness of this aperture, he thought only of Calista and the help he longed for her to provide. Not knowing whether he was facing up or down, he finally hit solid ground and righted himself instantly, and then he saw a winding path spread out before him and a calm shoreline at his back.

  He had arrived at the island of the Lady once more, and he was so grateful to have been admitted, that he was blinded to the changes all around hi
m, concentrating only on his great need. He followed the walkway, not noticing that the air was as still as could be and that no birds sang and no animals moved through the underbrush. The flowers had no odor and they were drying upon their stems. The grass beneath his feet was parched and brown, but he walked on without seeing, thinking only of his purpose. The silver leaves of the beautiful trees lay in soft piles on the ground, quiet as the night, no breeze to rustle them.

  He neared the gates of the Lady’s palace and they lay open already, so he walked through, consumed by his objective He saw the turrets and the towers rising around him, but they were shrouded in shadows and the banners atop them hung limp and lifeless. The light was dim and a thin layer of dust covered everything, blanketing the tiles of the floor with its dullness, rising in soft swells as he walked over it, but his eyes were blind to all but his goal.

  When he reached the end of the long hallway, he found the double gilt doors standing open already, and he entered the chamber where Calista had met with him before, searching for a sign of the Lady of the Island. The crystal throne at the opposite end stood just as he remembered it, less vibrant, less alive, but he did not regard it. Baladar was thinking only of the help he needed and he was so obsessed with this objective that he could focus upon nothing else.

  His eyes darted from left to right, searching for a sign of Calista, and in his desperation to seek her out, he finally began to realize for the first time that things here were not the same as they were before. It was as if he was looking through a thick piece of glass, an opaque window. Everything around him was dull and colorless and no longer beautiful and magical as it had been once before. The shock of the change was almost too much to bear. He could hear nothing and he could smell nothing. All the power that he had experienced here previously was absent. And Calista was nowhere to be found. Despair struck him like a severe blow to the belly and he gasped momentarily for breath. He doubled over in pain, struggling to maintain his equilibrium.