The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  Baladar slumped over the table, exhausted. The boy was safe for the moment. Colton could not pursue him now for Mira had done her job well. She had granted him the time he needed to begin the education and training of the still unnamed boy. This ‘seeing’ had accomplished much, and in addition to the knowledge he had been granted by virtue of it, he had also been granted the means with which to name the boy; Davmiran Dar Gwendolen it would be, thus granting rest and eternity to the great woman that was Mira.

  The boy would not remember who he was or where he came from when he awoke. The process that Mira used to shelter him and protect him if the worst happened required that she erase the past from his young mind. She deeply regretted the fact that his parents would disappear from his memory, along with all of the other good and kind people from his other life. However, she had no choice, and Baladar recognized that she had done the only thing that she could have done under the circumstances. He would also thus be spared the pain of the memories and of the tragic fate which befell his family.

  Now that he had arrived safely, he could be told gradually and gently who he really was and where he came from. The great legacy would not be lost to him forever, while Mira’s heroic efforts would be everlastingly memorialized in song and poetry, her namesake would honor her with his deeds and his memory of her would never totally abandon him. Yet as Baladar well knew, his trials were just beginning and the days to come would require hard work, love balanced with sternness, rigorous training and constant sacrifice.

  The boy would be prepared by the best in the land. Baladar would send the guarded word out to all whom he required to impart the knowledge and understanding in all of the mundane as well as arcane arts to the boy, Davmiran. He would be ready when the inevitable time of confrontation arrived.

  He will succeed! He struck the table with his fist.

  Baladar would help him and guide him and provide him with everything that he could, including his own life force, if the need for that should arise. He would sacrifice all and everything for the boy, for without his success the world was doomed.

  There were still a few more acts to commit before rest would be possible for Baladar and the boy. He gathered up the four colored stones from the table and dropped them into the pouch, then reached down in order to grasp the still warm ring and slip it back upon his hand. As he bent to retrieve it and slide the tunic back into place over the exposed skin of the sleeping youth, he noticed that the tiny letters of his new name were scored into his skin above his navel: Davmiran dar Gwendolen in ancient script glowed reddish and bright. The words radiated their glow throughout his body, and bestowed upon his inert form a shimmer heretofore absent that turned his skin from a pallid color to a healthy hue. He smiled, pleased with the ring’s acknowledgment of his choice.

  After maneuvering the great ring back onto his finger, he moved the disk slightly to the side so that it could witness, in its own way, what was about to take place, even though it would not be partaking in the following exercise. He then reached into the selfsame pouch and removed a small, pure white diamond. Barely was it out from its suede comfort when the room lit with energy. This tiny stone was a powerful relic, purportedly hewn from the same block as the Gem of Eternity, and truly it acted with a will of its own at times, frightening even Baladar with its compelling but silent instructions. It had been his mother’s, and he had found it amongst her possessions only after she died. She had shown it to him once and explained its history to him, emphasizing its healing powers to which use she had relegated it. She also warned him of its enticing potency. It seemed as if the gem actually directed Baladar, even though there was no verbal or audible communication between them.

  Baladar had an instinctual feeling that the small and beautiful stone was responsible for many of his ideas. Oft times he would be inspired to do or say something that he was not consciously aware he had any prior knowledge of. It was easy to attribute these moments to forgotten lessons of childhood, or to some other coincidence of a similar sort. Nevertheless, whenever Baladar held the stone he was certain that it communicated with him and inspired him in many unaccountable and often surprising ways.

  He placed the white stone at the head of the sleeping boy. Immediately it began to emanate a visible, clear light. A sense of pleasure and peace enveloped him. He relaxed for a brief moment in the satisfaction of the feeling, renewed and rejuvenated as if he had just awoken from a long and restful sleep. The light engulfed the silent boy and wove a cocoon of tendrils around him.

  The gem had such power that Baladar gave in to its dominance and refrained from directing it. This could be incredibly dangerous, as the power was often raw and unpredictable, and it required a concentrated direction on his part. His fear from the day the stone was received unto his protection was that he would give in to its dominance and lose himself in the wondrous feelings that it generated in him whenever he unleashed it. It required such strength and control to focus his energy upon the task at hand. It was so easy to relax and let the heavenly sensations carry him away. Yet, Baladar was well trained, and if he had not given in to it yet, after these many years of possession, he would not give in to it now when the limits of his strength were being tested and the need was dire.

  He sent a mental direction to the stone. Cal mara timathor. Cortan deuxte indiran druidenter.

  The gem sparkled, bursting with energy, and the forces encircling the boy spun rapidly. As suddenly as it began, it ceased. The diamond returned to its dormant state but Baladar knew that the spell had been properly cast. He placed the gem back in the pouch with its brethren. From this day forward, or at least until Davmiran’s powers manifested themselves and he was strong enough to protect himself, he would be invisible to all human eyes upon leaving the confines of the city gates. Neither would he be heard nor would his presence be detectable in any manner by any human being outside the walls of Pardatha. The spell would cease by itself as soon as the boy was ready. This would hopefully give them more time to train him and prepare him for what was to come. Word of his existence would not spread so rapidly, and therefor the period of learning would be able to run its own course. Those in the palace who knew of his existence would forget entirely about him upon stepping outside the city, as if they had never seen him, and only Baladar and the few whom he would choose, would be his guardians at all times and would not for a moment forget about him or his primary importance.

  Now Baladar needed to inform those whom he had long ago chosen to be the boy’s teachers should the time arise, that their presence was sorely needed, that the moment had finally come. For this, he needed the disk once more. Its powers of communication were once limitless, as it was a piece of a Lalas. Now, although still strong beyond measure, the demise of so many of its brethren had weakened the network of communication somewhat. Baladar had no fear, though, that they would not receive his message. He also knew that it would not be received by anyone other than the ones for which it was meant. The Lalas never made those mistakes. Their messages were never intercepted inadvertently. Baladar bade the disk to send out the call and it eagerly responded. He heard the high-pitched hum and saw the slight vibration of the disk. Cairn of Thermaye, Robyn dar Tamarand, and Filaree Par D’Avalain were summoned and were sure to respond.

  Baladar need only wait now. The fabric would weave of its own will and nothing could stop it short of dissolution. They still had time. The trees were yet alive and the First might even be found by the likes of Davmiran. His hopes were rekindled with the presence of the boy, and the future once again took on the many faces of possibility, not all of which were bleak. The arrival of the boy at long last had perhaps recast the future entirely. Now he could only wait.

  The spell was complete and Baladar felt the satisfaction that he had done as much as he could have in this small amount of time. Exhausted now, the presence of the white stone had at first made him feel ripe with energy and youth. But as soon as it was out of his sight, the true weight of his years began to wea
r upon him. He returned the disk to the cabinet in the alcove and collapsed on his resting divan, sleeping with heretofore unanticipated abandon.

  Chapter Three

  Cairn of Thermaye, shaven-headed, grey robed, humble and reserved could do nothing to hide his strange yellow eyes that sparkled in contrast to his attempts at being inconspicuous. For him, the contradiction was not obvious, but it was curious that his personality embodied similar differences in its nature. It was indicative of his attitude toward good and evil; the world is full of dichotomies, and all standards for measuring such inexact ideas are arbitrary, he would say. Yet, Cairn had an innate sense of right and wrong that surpassed any impulse to reason his way clear to anarchic thoughts.

  When the call came, he was ready, as if he had been expecting it his entire life. He rose immediately, wrapped his cloak around his legs and went to gather his belongings. Although he never really knew when his thread would enter the weave, this moment felt proper to him; it felt right. He glanced at the sky as he jogged to his cottage, expecting it to also appear different, as he knew that from that moment forth nothing else in his life would ever truly be the same again.

  Cairn was a brilliant man, schooled by the masters of the Carnesian order, the son of a Duke who at the age of one tiel and one recognized his calling and renounced his birthright in order to enter the league. He had studied ever since, and he had visited all of the seats of learning, renowned throughout the world. At Thermascon, he studied metaphysics with the master, Cosacteris. There he learned to think in broad strokes, and to see the beauty in the patterns that governed the once-removed aspects of everyday life. In the wastes of Pertas, he studied ethics with Durmas de Borea. This was his most cherished subject, even though he found it to be the most taxing one mentally. It oft times confused him and forced him to question so much of what he had been taught as a child. But, he learned to use his broadened concepts of right and wrong, and good and evil constructively, as it seemed so easy to misconstrue the lessons of objectivity.

  He learned ethics from the viewpoint of the ‘question mark.’ His teacher’s primary conceptual starting point was that good and evil were simply definitions of ideas that changed from society to society, and age to age. Though he honored his mentor, this concept of ethical relativity appealed to his intellectual senses, but it was unacceptable to his instincts. He recognized how dangerous an idea this was, and he was aware of how often it led to blatant abuses of power. If good and evil could be redefined within specific contexts, then base and depraved actions could be justified semantically. Cairn felt the difference between good and evil! To him, it was imbedded in nature itself, neither the product of reason, nor subject to the whims of society.

  Cairn learned to think of consequences and to begin to define good and evil based upon consequences and possibilities. His primary objective was to educate so as to enhance the quality of life on the planet. In a world where magic overtly manifested itself, and historically the gods made themselves evident, both in positive and negative ways, one would think that the true path would be obvious. Yet, the gods acted in ways beyond the comprehension of even the most brilliant of men, and their actions could only guide the learned. Cairn was attuned to the pulse of nature and he sensed when its fabric was flawed, when its weave was unstable or a stitch had been inadvertently dropped. He allowed reason to help him choose but never to determine the choice entirely.

  Cairn wholeheartedly believed that the standards for behavior should be based upon what would promote the welfare of living beings. To him, even though he had an eclectic mind and could convincingly argue many and diverse ethical points, his heart was convinced of the one path, and his style of teaching allowed his students to think and reason, but inevitably led them to the conclusions that he hoped for. His success as an instructor in ethics was measured not by virtue of creating disciples who mimicked his style or his thoughts, but by virtue of generating thoroughly rounded thinkers who intuited their way to the conclusions that they supported, but could support them logically nonetheless.

  Cairn’s primary teacher, Durmas de Borea, was a skeptic, the fact of which influenced all aspects of his concepts of right and wrong. Durmas cultivated the minds of his students, and he forced them to develop their own codes and to theoretically carry them out to their logical conclusions in reference to a society governed by them. He then had his students evaluate the success of this society and analyze what consequences these rules of ethical conduct and standards of good and evil would have upon the rest of society. Of course, this was only done on paper and in the minds of the students. The method did force Cairn to think, and he was particularly good at this type of thinking. Durmas loved him as a son and he had hoped that he would carry on for him after his death. Yet, Cairn had a different calling, and his talents and years of study would now be utilized by others to a far more serious end than the mere pleasure of learning.

  Logic, the subject he liked the least even though he acknowledged the inherent beauty in the correctness of its methods and the clear definitions of truth that it embodied, Cairn excelled at. It bothered him that he had such natural proclivities toward a subject that was so limited in scope for him. Yet, his teacher, Bora C’al Thomasan, taught him to expand upon the simple tautologies and proofs, and apply the concepts to life itself. Although Cairn did not see the logical patterns that he learned in these books repeat themselves in everyday life, he gladly accepted the teaching and hungrily absorbed them into his psyche.

  Cairn was the best student that the masters ever had. He was humble and studious, yet he was full of life, and he demonstrated a healthy arrogance that comes with such talent and confidence. He was unequivocally the most fitting teacher for the boy. Cairn would school him in philosophy and help the boy to learn to think. Although perhaps one such as Davmiran would oft be tested in ways that would not allow for the luxury of deep thought and time, Cairn hoped to instill in him an attitude, and a spontaneous understanding of what needed to be done and to what purpose. He hoped to teach in a way that the proclivity for good became instinctual in the boy. And to do so, he needed to teach all of the consequences of evil, as defined in the context of the current world. The boy must feel and taste the differences between right and wrong. He must be able to act without hesitation, and with the confidence of a moral leader. He could not make a priest of the young man. There were many occasions wherein the inherent act that needed to be committed would not and should not be done gleefully. The lines drawn between these deeds of good and deeds of evil were so thin. Murder or self-defense? Execution or righteous removal of a criminal? War or surrender? Domination or victory? These were some of the issues that the boy would have to face in time, and Cairn was determined to provide him with the intellectual means that he would require in order to deal with the decisions.

  He needed to gather only a few things before his journey could begin. First and foremost was the object which had served him so well during his own search for answers to the ethical questions which had tormented him so often as a youth. Although an object possessed of great magical power in its own right, it required only strength of mind to activate it, not the powers of a mage. In fact, it only responded to thought, pure and simple. No magic could animate it. Thus, Cairn was fully capable of utilizing it, perhaps more so than anyone else. And utilize it he did, to the point where he thought of it as his friend and confidant, rather than the inanimate object that it appeared to be.

  This ancient wooden box filled with beautifully carved pieces that resembled many of the beings alive on the planet, was similar to a chess board in design. Yet, these pieces had lives of their own when properly directed. They served to instruct the user on the many and varied outcomes of his speculations, and had been of immeasurable assistance to Cairn during his philosophical endeavors. The figures were so lifelike that they served to mitigate the cold and detached perspective that a thinker oft times assumes, and they reminded one of mortality and the reality of flesh and blood con
sequences. They aged and died and were reborn, and they constantly transformed themselves. This box was a tool Cairn would, under no circumstances, be without during the schooling of the boy.

  When the call came, Cairn of Thermaye was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the stream that curved around his small house, deep in the woods. He was not surprised by the summons and he was thoroughly prepared to respond. He had not had contact with any humans for half a tiel now, yet there was no reluctance on his part to resume his worldly life.

  “Baladar of Pardatha,” he repeated to himself. “I should have known it would be him!” The scholar smiled.

  Cairn was content with what he had been doing, and he knew that such feelings of contentment lead only to a lessening of the mind’s activity and to mediocrity. He needed to be challenged and he was thus stimulated by the call. His entire body was immediately rejuvenated and he required only a small amount of time to prepare himself for the trip at hand. As he neared his house, he brushed the grass and twigs from his tunic and went inside to gather the box and the few other things he would need to take with him on his upcoming journey.

  He had been preparing his entire life for this call, even though unbeknownst to him, the threads had only now been woven together in the pattern that allowed for his assistance. It all seemed so natural and correct that Cairn barely broke the stride of his thought as he prepared for his sojourn. Having no magical abilities of his own, the journey would not be a short one, but he looked forward with enthusiasm to the time he would have while traveling to think and plan.

  Of course, he would need to call upon his dearest friend and soul-mate, Calyx, whose strength he always relied upon when need reared its possessive head. He was a Moulant, the mysterious benefactors of the tree’s love and affection for time untold. The Moulant were so few on this planet that each and every one was revered and held in the highest esteem by all who knew of them. For Cairn to have been befriended by even a young offspring of one, spoke volumes about his integrity. He was honored to have Calyx as his soul-mate and he celebrated their relationship every moment of his life.