The Identical Twins (Mind-wielder Series Book 1)

by Winfred Wong

  “Oskal? I never know the borderline is so close to my home.”

  “There are many things you don’t know about, young man,” Dulais said. “Valais should be about less than ten miles south of where we are now. We may be able to get there before dark if we hurry.”

  “Ten miles!? Seriously!?” Althalos repeated. “Oh, I hate it.”

  “Trust me, you won’t regret it,” Dulais said, as he turned left and resumed walking in the direction of leaving the Flipside. “Let’s get out of this forest.”

  “I am already regretting.”

  ∫∫

  Passed through the eerie forest peacefully by the end of sunset, then trudged along a bumpy road, blanketed with dense bushes and swamps, that guided them to the outskirts of Valais, they both felt drained of energy, in dire need of food and water, when Ausber was racing up and down some craggy small hills energetically, gratefully cropping the grass, swishing his tail to hit a fly around, on a mountainous region ahead of them.

  “Do you have any idea about where the encampment is?” Althalos said with a dehydrated throat, detangling his frizzy hair. “And where is Valais? Are you sure you know the way?”

  Holding his empty waterskin in his hand, “More haste, less speed,” Dulais said, squinting to look around, though, he couldn’t really see far with the weak gleam of the gemstone at night. They were like lost fireflies waltzing hither and yon across a desolate desert.

  “Are we going to die out here?” Althalos said pessimistically. “I just hope that–” It was like he paused at a sudden loss for words when his voice fizzled out in a rustling of pines, but a slight gurgling echo that can only be emitted by covering a mouth with bare hands while speaking made a distinct difference in Dulais’s ears.

  He knew Althalos had encountered some kind of trouble right at the moment he became aware of the difference, and, despite his bone-weary body, he immediately unleashed a mighty punch toward the position where Althalos was standing. However, his punch was deflected, and he stumbled forward, felt a gentle push from behind and fell on the ground, face down.

  “Shhhhhh!” a sober-looking man camouflaged with shrugs and hedges, his face painted green as a disguise, uttered anxiously but quietly. “Put out the light! Put out that light! They can see us!”

  Then Dulais stopped visioning, and the light of the staff went out as complete darkness reigned. He thought the man was going to pinion him to the ground, but it didn’t happen, so he rolled over to look at the agile man, who engaged him.

  “Galahad?” Dulais carolled, with a rare, happy grin on his face.

  “Glad to see you in one piece. Welcome back, my friend,” the man replied, in his signature roaring tone, and grabbed Dulais’s hand to pull him up. “The staff?”

  “Yeah, it’s the staff,” Dulais got up and replied, scratching his nose, lifting up the staff.

  “But who is your young friend?”

  Dulais turned around to find Althalos lying sprawled on the short itching grass, and there was a man, wearing the same camouflage as Galahad, holding two spears, pointing one of the deadly iron points of the spears to Althalos’s throat.

  “Hey, he is one of us,” Dulais said, and that man pointed the spear away as quickly as he can.

  “Thank you. I really thought I was going to die,” Althalos thanked and got up clumsily.

  “I will explain everything to you later,” Dulais said to Althalos, who frowned when he looked at the man with spears. “Now, go get Ausber, we’re moving out.”

  “So where is the camp?” Dulais then questioned Galahad.

  “Just follow me,” Galahad said, as he and the other man began to trudge up a steep slope in front of them.

  “Althalos! Althalos!” Dulais whispered to catch his attention and pointed to Galahad like he was telling him to follow that man.

  The four of them then plodded up the slope to the top of the rising ground, and they felt the fine grit of swirling sand abrading their skin. From there, they saw some medium-sized, snug green tents and yurts, all doors facing south, set up in the middle of a vast plain behind some scattered thick lines of trees that veiled the entire camp, next to a flat, mirror-like lake that was glimmering in the callow light of night.

  “We’re safe here now,” Galahad said and gave Dulais a long-time-no-see hug. “I can’t believe you actually make it.”

  “We lost a lot of good men just for this thing,” Dulais said, showing no sadness on his face. “I’m the only one still alive.”

  With a dejected look, “Come on, Barnett will be very happy to see you, and your friend,” Galahad replied and headed toward the biggest yurt situated in the heart of the encampment.

  The encampment was lit up with candlelight from some tall, torch-looking candle stands. On approaching the yurt, they passed by some unswaying trees, and, most appealingly, there was an ancient tree that sprouted near a boulder, with surface roots and many thick branches, and there was a man with a s-shaped long bow in his hand and a triangular-shaped, soft leather quiver, which had a secret compartment at the bottom of it, adorned with sleek sheep’s fur slung on his back, wearing a suit of black light armor, which was the standard uniform of the resistance’s soldiers, consisted only of a breastplate, two vambraces and cuisses, joints unshielded, that made him almost invisible at night, staring at them on one of the branches that stretched out from the weathered trunk like a fox.

  Looking back at the archer, who had pointed ears and a harmless baby face, his tender skin red and healthy, curiously, Althalos asked, “How did he get up there?”

  “Ernald is the best climber and sharpshooter among us,” Dulais replied, as the scores of soldiers around were saluting Galahad and only Galahad. “Remember the craggy cliff we saw in the forest? He actually climbed up to the summit from the other side of the mountain and hit the bullseye of an arrow target set on the foot of the mountain with only one shot.”

  “Is that a fact?” Althalos said when he happened to catch a cursory glimpse of something he discerned as battering rams and cannons behind the tree.

  “Undoubtedly. And when he came down the mountain, he told us there were two phoenix living in a cave up there. We asked him to describe it for many times, but he never told us. He just smiled,” Dulais said.

  “A phoenix!?” Althalos said, imagining what a phoenix looked like, and decided that he would somehow someday find a way to go up there to take a look at them and even talk to them.

  And they pushed on in the encampment, where groups of patrols were loafing about everywhere, to the largest yurt, which had a vent on top and a wide entrance flap, covered with a patternless, pale green felt. It was supported by an expanding timber circular frame, and, like the other yurts, the tapered pegs were driven deep into the ground to secure the whole thing in place.

  “My young friend, my man here, Andon, will take care of your horse,” Galahad said, as Andon, who was still holding two spears in one hand, stretched out his other hand toward Althalos, uncurling his fingers as a sign of please.

  But, after taking a sidelong glance at Ausber, Althalos held back.

  “It seems to me you don’t have a choice,” Dulais said, as he pointed to Ausber’s head and the highest point of the entrance flap, which was obviously in a lower level.

  “A tent over there in front of the lake is used to keep horses. Your horse will surely be taken care of properly,” Anton said, persuasively, and Althalos gave him the lead rope reluctantly.

  Regarding at the yurt, Dulais talked to himself, “I can hear his footsteps from out here. Let’s get inside,” and he cracked a smile and flung open the flap, and the three of them went in.

  Inside the subdued yurt, there were two saddle stands and weapon crates at the two wings right behind the flap, an iron stove for cooking set in the middle, right below the vent on top, next to a low table that concealed a few water buckets underneath and had a three-headed candle on top of it. It was roomy, and everything was neat and tidy: a whole set of standing, d
eep blue-colored armor was put next to the weapon crate on the right, close to a bed made of straw, a book shelve and some stools for guests, and clothes were folded into heaps on short, movable shelves on the left, where there was a man, reading, pacing back and forth.

  “Barnett, he is back,” Galahad said.

  “Who?” Barnett, a tall, strong man, but not big and burly, with a firm chin and a long, narrow face adorned with a scar that ran from between his bushy eyebrows, across his left nose and down his cheek, wearing regular clothing like an ordinary man, averted his eyes from the book he was holding with his rough hand and said, in an amazed tone, and when his eyes met Dulais’s, he became speechless and stupefied with astonishment and admiration.

  Then Dulais held the staff up in mid-air and said proudly, “I made it.”

  Found what he was witnessing almost jaw-dropping, Barnett inadvertently dropped the book, ran around the stove toward Dulais and placed his both hands on Dulais’s shoulders, eagerly and exhilaratingly. “So very glad to see you alive, my friend. You can’t imagine how apprehensive and nervous I have been since you guys were gone. Thankfully, you made it. I am so proud to have you fighting by my side.” He saluted him just like how the soldiers saluted Galahad.

  “Thank you,” Dulais said. “So how are things going here? Are we continuing to lose ground, or are we winning the war?”

  “Er–” Althalos interjected, and Barnett finally laid his first glance on him. “I am sorry to interrupt, but I could actually eat a horse right now.”

  “Althalos, let me introduce you, this is Barnett, the leader of the resistance group called The Skyline,” Dulais said. “Barnett, this is my friend, Althalos. He helped me to get away from Pancho’s attack.”

  “What resistance? And what is this place?” Althalos said, in a slightly frustrated tone, twirling his hair. “Honestly, I don’t really understand what is going on now. First, hundreds of dreadful bandits descended on and burnt down my home, my entire village, which is probably the poorest place in the country, for no reasons and slaughtered us like animals. Then you showed up and saved me because you mistook me for my twin brother, and then I helped you to get away from the aggressive eagles, and you revealed your identity as a mind-wielder to me in the disappearing forest, and now, a resistance group and a war? Would you please just tell me what is going on?”

  “Calm down, calm down, my friend,” Barnett said, in a mature voice that was comforting, as he walked to the low table, poured Althalos a bowl of water from the buckets and gave it to him. “You must’ve been through a lot. Galahad, would you please go and get some food for us?” Galahad nodded and left. “You two must be exhausted. Come and take a seat.” He brought them to the stools for guests, and they all slouched down.

  “For now, it’s all about this staff that holds the secret of vision,” Barnett uttered slowly like an old man telling story. “The disappearing forest you mentioned, I suppose it is the Flipside, right?”

  Dulais nodded as Althalos was gulping down thirstily.

  “There is a temple that is used as a seal located somewhere in that forest, and the staff is the only thing that can break the seal,” Barnett continued. “We don’t fully know what will happen if the seal is removed yet, but, according to a wise man, we now know that there is a destructive power that can cause mayhem lurking in it, and Pancho, the right-hand man of the king of Austhun, Iain, is actually trying to break the seal with this staff, but we just can’t let him. So I sent out men to steal it from them and to kill that evil man if they can.”

  “There is also a man called Morax, the ruler of Eastland. He has been manipulating Iain for years in order to obtain everything he longs for, though we don’t really know much about him, but we are sure that he is the man, who tempted Iain to start the civil war against Ustron. So, to fight against them, people from all around Austhun, who realized how savage and wicked the king is, gathered in Kloster, and The Vista was then formed,” Dulais added.

  With his bulging eyes of scepticism, Althalos said, “So they wiped out Ayrith just because this Pancho craves for this glowing staff? And what about the war you just mentioned?”

  Barnett stood, walked to the book shelve, took out a world map and unfolded it in front of them.

  “Austhun has strategically built a fortified castle here in Valais, which was the place known as the Door of Oskal, the only way into Oskal. It is built to isolate Oskal from her ally, Lathium, cutting the connection between them, depriving them of access to their main source of reinforcement and supply, so that Iain can launch a full-scale invasion against Oskal at any time he desires. If Oskal falls, the world would be hopeless, and without the help from Lathium, Oskal would be hopeless. So we have to tear this castle apart, stone by stone if we need to, and that’s exactly what we have been trying to accomplish by waging this war,” Dulais said.

  It was a noisy, breezy night. Bolting the food, some buttered breads and fresh fruits, Galahad, who had already washed off his disguise, brought, they felt warm and talked non-stop about everything happened in the past, about the camp in Orilon, about what made Iain a tyrant, about Pancho, about what happened in Ayrith and about what the staff could do.

  “Well then. Why doesn’t Pancho just send out an army of ferocious eagles to attack this place? The birds are unstoppable,” Althalos said.

  “No, I am afraid he won’t do that,” said Barnett, with a disparaging smile. “He loves his birds! He will never put them in danger.”

  “Barnett, I want to show you something. Take a look at this,” said Dulais, showing them the words on the staff. “I am totally clueless about what these words mean.”

  “Lie down, let the purple guides you through,” Althalos murmured.

  “Does it ring a bell for you, Barnett?” Dulais asked.

  “No, not at all,” Barnett said. “But I bet that Uzuri knows everything about this, and I am very interested in meeting your brother, Althalos. I want to meet the man who can make this staff shine.”

  “Uzuri?” Althalos said.

  “The wisest mind-wielder in the world,” Dulais said. “I want to give him this staff. If there’s anyone who can protect it from Pancho, it’s him, and, personally, I would love to go back there to visit my mentor. What do you say, Barnett?”

  “I agree. The staff is no use to us. It’s better to give it to someone who can protect it,” Barnett said.

  “That Uzuri is your mentor?” Althalos asked.

  “Yes, I spent eight years there learning how to conjure up a little water sphere, and I haven’t gone back there ever since the outbreak of the civil war.”

  “Speaking of which, I want to show you two something,” Barnett said and walked to the entry flap. “Come.”

  So they left the yurt in the middle of the night and headed for a yurt set up on the edge of the camp.

  “What’s inside?” Althalos said, and Barnett hurled the entry flap up.

  Inside, there were ten men, whose feet were all chained up by a set of linked metal rings connecting to a wooden pole driven deep into the ground in the middle, and they were all sleeping.

  Receded out of the yurt quietly, Barnett said, “At night before yesterday, we tried to cut off their supply line. We attacked two wagons and captured about twenty men, who were pulling the wagons, alive. They barely resisted and claimed they were just blameless men from the city of Valais, therefore I brought them back. I don’t want them to go back and continue to serve their army.”

  “I can’t believe Galahad let you chain these men up,” Dulais said.

  “Yeah, you know him well. He wasn’t happy about this, but I insisted. I can’t have these men walking around in my camp like they are one of us.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  * * *

  After days of ceaseless riding on the flatlands of Dangelion between Lome and Valais, Levi and his men finally made it to the city of Valais that situated about one mile behind the seemingly unconquerable Valais Castle that was made of dark grey sto
ne, with a straight, stone-paved path linking up the two separate places.

  With the protection provided by the castle, the city didn’t have to be built as secure as Lome. It didn’t have a moat, nor an unclimbable city wall, nor a fort. It was only enclosed by short pointed top picket fences that can’t even stop a monkey from jumping over it, and one thin, metal gate on each of the four sides of the fence.

  “Have you met Hera?” Haddon asked Rogen, riding side by side, a morning rush of wind brushing his face.

  “Yes, she is a sweet girl,” Rogen said. “But you never told me anything about a daughter and a festival.”

  “You never asked,” Haddon replied.

  “Would you have told me if I asked?” Rogen said doubtfully.

  “Probably no. I don’t want to let you in on this when you’re still feeling sad.”

  “Does everyone know this?”

  “Yes. Everyone here knows it.”

  “So what’s the plan? She can’t really stay in that place forever.”

  “I don’t have a plan, but I think we can figure out one when we have the time,” Haddon said, as they reached the gate.

  “Dismount!” Levi ordered, as all of them got off their horses, and the gate was being pulled open from inside by a gate guard equipped only with a piece of apparently shabby chest armor and a short spear with a blunt tip that can’t even pierce a flat sheet of paper.

  “Welcome to Valais!” the gate guard said, in a tired voice, and yawned when the Knights was passing through the opening.

  Inside the city, not a lot of people were wandering on the craggy street that was half-paved with small stones, and the residents, who weren’t amazed by the arrival of the Knights, looked lethargic and old with their wrinkled skin, their gait feeble and tottering, and, at the weirdly hushed marketplace, which was a collection of closed and mangled stores, only one or two of them were still open, though those that were still up and running didn’t seem to be carrying any commodities, and the houses here weren’t as tall and elegant as those in Lome, mostly one-level, dilapidated buildings that looked shaky and enveloped in dirt, and, more weirdly, most of them were abandoned, an undeniable sense of despair emanating from them.