The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  The smell of something delicious cooking was most evident, and Cairn quickly forgot all that had been burdening his mind in the face of the prospect of such a good meal and the prodigious company.

  “Should I prepare something for your friend outside?” she asked so naturally one would think the Moulant was a friendly pet dog.

  “No, thank you,” he replied. “Calyx prefers to provide for himself. He’s quite capable, you know,” Cairn replied grinning.

  Safira smiled again, with an expression of understanding as if they were sharing a private joke. Cairn felt the goodness in her. It radiated from her eyes. In fact, he liked the two of them! He wondered if this meeting was mere chance, or if something greater was at work here, bringing this group together at this particular time. Lately, he had been questioning much of what he believed prior to the onset of this journey.

  “Come, sit down. Be comfortable. You look weary, and I am sure a full belly will change that expression of yours considerably,” Safira remarked as she pulled the high-backed chair away from the table.

  Cairn joined the two of them for a tantalizing meal of stewed fowl and greens mixed with steamed flower blossoms, mulled cider and berries, and the hours passed comfortably and quickly amidst small talk and warm company. Refills of cider were plentiful, and after considerable conversation, soon enough it was time for bed. Trevor and Safira would hear of nothing other than Cairn sleeping in the only bed in the cottage, while they camped out on down quilts and woven rugs on the floor in front of the hearth. They seemed to enjoy the prospect so, that he could hardly refuse.

  They said their goodnights and Trevor showed Cairn to the small room, filled almost entirely by a huge feather mattress and mile high pillows, where he was to sleep. And sleep he did, as if someone had slipped a considerable dose of nightshade into his cider.

  Cairn slept soundly and thoroughly, waking with the dawn, only to find a warm breakfast steaming on the dining table as he emerged from the bedroom and Safira brewing a remarkable smelling tea over the fire. He felt refreshed and wonderful. After having slept upon a mat for so many years, the luxury of the bed was something he would not forget quickly.

  “Ah, Cairn. You have slept well?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

  “Yes, very well, good mistress. Remarkably well! In fact, I cannot remember a time when I have slept better. It must have been the excellent repast and the even better company, not to mention the softest bed I have ever laid upon. Only in a house where I felt totally secure could I have had such a good night’s sleep. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” he replied, bowing slightly to the woman.

  Cairn needed to check on Calyx and he felt remiss in not having done so once more before he retired the previous evening, but he was confident that the big animal was as safe and as secure as he himself had been.

  “I would like to step outside for just a minute before I am totally seduced by your cooking once again, mistress Safira. I need to find my friend and make sure that he is not concerned about my welfare.”

  “As I expected that you would, and the food will certainly wait for your return.” Cairn stepped outside the house and was immediately taken in by the smell of the air. The trees were fragrant, and the unmistakable odor of Lalas was heavy on the wind, something totally unexpected in this part of the countryside. He felt as if he was in a paradise of sorts, for everything was alive and in abundant bloom. He wandered into the fringe of brush in front of the cottage and then followed a narrow, winding path further into the depths of the woods in search of Calyx, only to be totally shocked by the scene that soon overtook him.

  Calyx was standing over a young boy, no more than fourteen years old at most, tugging upon a knotted piece of cloth that the boy held tightly between his two hands. At first, he was engulfed by a wave of concern for the child, but he did not sense any danger, and Calyx was astonishingly careful. He quickly realized that they were playing with each other, and the boy apparently had no fear of the animal whatsoever. This was truly a sight he had not seen before. Most people ran in terror from the big Moulant, fearing for their lives. This boy was playing with him as if he was a house pet!

  Upon spotting Cairn, Calyx dropped his toy and leapt to his side. The boy stood up, disappointment on his face at having lost his playmate.

  “Young man, I am Cairn. Who may you be?” he asked.

  “Is the cat your friend?” the boy asked first and forthright. “Because if he is, then I do not have to fear you as I would fear any other stranger in these woods.”

  This youth stood before him, eyes wide, and Cairn could not help but smile at his boldness and honesty.

  “Yes, I can assure you. He is my good friend. My best friend in this world. And you have nothing to fear from me. Nor from Calyx, as I can definitely see. Since I have given you my name, now whom might you be?”

  “I am Tomas, and you spent the night in the house of my uncle Trevor and aunt Safira. I know more about you than you do about me I wager,” he replied with a voice so sonorous that it blended well with the smell of Lalas and the warm breeze wafting through the trees. A fearless, innocent boy indeed.

  “And where did you spend the night? We did not share your company throughout the entire evening?”

  “I slept in a tree, behind the cottage. I stay there whenever I can, when the weather is nice. Would you like to see it?” he asked with genuine interest.

  “I certainly would! Lead the way.”

  Everything about this place was intriguing to Cairn. I wish I had more time to linger here, he thought as he leapt to go after the boy. Tomas skipped his way through the underbrush with both Cairn and Calyx following closely behind. The bushes became quite dense, the smell grew more fragrant and the sun, although seemingly blocked by the thick vegetation, shone brightly, illuminating the twisted path and making it appear as if the rays of light were directing the lad to his destination. Cairn felt, or rather, sensed a change in the atmosphere. The fragrance in the air was heavier, more aromatic than before, and the air itself seemed thicker or denser.

  As the bushes gave way to tall grass, a tingling sensation overtook him, strange but not at all unpleasant. He passed carefully out into the more open area, on guard against the prospect of anything unforseen occurring, and continued to follow the boy. Calyx bounded ahead, unconcerned; a good sign.

  Soon enough, Tomas stopped, faced Cairn, with an expression of extreme pride spread across his young face. Behind him stood the most beautiful tree Cairn had seen in ages.

  It must be a Lalas, he thought. And this boy must be its Chosen, otherwise he could never be sleeping near it, let alone inside the shelter of its branches.

  Yet, Cairn was unaware that any of the great trees lived in this area, certainly not one as massive as this one. He knew that he had recognized its presence earlier, yet he was baffled as to how one could be here, now, without having been recorded by the elders.

  “Tomas?” he queried, “Is this your tree?”

  Tomas looked slightly perplexed by the question, bowed his head, chin to chest, and thought for an instant.

  “How could a tree be mine?” he replied confused. “The tree is my friend, as Calyx is yours, if that is what you mean.”

  “Surely, I do, my son. It was only a matter of speech,” Cairn responded, not wishing to confuse the child with terms he was clearly unfamiliar with. This was a very unique boy and an even more unique Lalas, certainly untraditional to say the least. The fragrance of the tree was obvious and as he thought this, some leaves wafted to the ground in front of him, an invitation not to be taken lightly. Cairn bent over and retrieved the leaves, bowed deeply to the tree, and placed them carefully in his belt pouch.

  “Ormachon likes you,” the boy said grinning.

  He twirled and danced in a small circle, singing in his melodious voice.

  “Ormachon has a new friend, just like me. Before it was just us, now we are three.”

  He giggled and pranced around the trunk o
f the Lalas, until he was sufficiently tired and dizzy, then he fell to the ground and laughed some more. He behaved as a child, but his knowing eyes betrayed a wiser more mature young man hidden behind them. Nonetheless, the boy warmed Cairn’s heart like no child had ever done before. He felt bound to him somehow, and through the boy, he felt a kinship to the tree. He was not a Chosen, he had no magic and he never envied those who had. Yet, the feelings now taking over his very being were like none he had ever experienced and he was thoroughly enjoying them. Both he and Tomas reveled under Ormachon’s protective branches for a short while, each in his own manner, enjoying the peace and comfort the Lalas afforded them.

  A violent sound shattered the calm surrounding Cairn and Tomas. Calyx’s growled and bounded down the path toward the cottage. Tomas lifted his head and gazed in the direction Calyx had just run. His face paled. Cairn felt rather than saw a sadness overtake the boy. Cairn also sensed that Tomas remained where he stood, sheltered by a sweeping branch of the great Lalas behind him.

  “Stay here, Tomas, something’s wrong,” he said, peering once more at Thomas before dashing down the trail.

  Cairn peered once more at Tomas before he too dashed down the trail, and it appeared to him as if the soft branches were caressing him and holding him back.

  Calyx was far ahead of him by the time he reached the brush and he could hear sounds of violence in the distance. Everything was happening so quickly, he barely had time to think about what he would do if he came unawares upon another group of belligerent townsfolk. Taking care not to burst into the open undefended, Cairn approached the house of Trevor and Safira. He felt the tremor of apprehension overtake his body, as his senses were assaulted by the scene that opened up before him. Calyx had already begun his pursuit of the aggressors by the time that Cairn was in view of the cottage itself.

  He was unprepared for what he saw in front of him. Trevor lay on the ground, his staff clenched in his hands, partially concealing the body of his wife, Safira, in a protective manner. Both were dead. Trevor’s eyes were burned out of his sockets and his hair and beard were singed. His face was distorted and ruined. Safira lay under him, her eyes too were totally annihilated by the magic and her hands clutched a small piece of a branch, broken and charred.

  Cairn rushed to their sides, knowing only too well that there was nothing he could now do. The house was in ruins, uninhabitable, stinking of burnt flesh and evil. Pieces of the door lay shattered, splintered and ragged, all the windows were blown out, while glass and debris littered the ground everywhere. As he peered inside, he noticed that every drawer and cabinet had been riffled through and that everything in the house was torn apart as if the enemy was looking for something.

  “Whatever it was, I hope to the First that they did not find it!” he exclaimed consumed by anger and sadness.

  If only I had been here before, when they so desperately needed me, instead of playing games in the woods. I could have come to their aid. Perhaps I could have prevented this, Cairn thought.

  His regrets were too late now, and his concerns immediately turned to the boy and to Calyx. Tomas was clearly in more danger if he wandered outside of the protection of his tree, as Calyx was not afraid of magic and knew quite well how to defend himself against it. He could not leave his newly found friends in such a state, their memories desecrated by this depraved performance, chancing that Tomas would soon return to see what was going on and stumble upon this gruesome scene. He was safe with his tree for now, and Ormachon was surely wise to have kept him back and would continue to do so, Cairn assured himself as he proceeded to carefully lift and move Trevor off of Safira. The stench was awful, but Cairn was determined to provide these good people with a proper grave, if nothing else.

  Who could have done this? Why? He located a spade and began to dig a trench in front of the garden by the edge of the woods. He wondered if Calyx had caught up with the murderous lot, and he grieved deeply for the two friends he had only just met. He would bury them together, hand in hand, as he expected they would have preferred. Cairn had known them for such a short time, but he was now bound to them forever.

  The thought of the boy returned to his mind, realizing that Tomas was now in his charge. He could not help but feel that although everything had taken such a tragic and sad turn, some good would come out of it. Cairn was uncomfortable with that feeling, nonetheless, considering the circumstances, but it was only his conscience that was experiencing this discomfort, not his instincts. No matter how awful things were, it felt right somehow; not the deaths, not the loss, but the responsibility that he now assumed for Tomas. As he thought, he completed his grim task, laid the bodies side by side in the ground and began to cover them with the moist earth.

  He finished his job as quickly as possible, anxious to attend to the child, and a bit uneasy, standing here exposed as he was. When the job was done, he said a brief prayer over the grave and turned to go. Calyx would see to it that the magic users would not return and catch him unsuspecting. He would have time to defend himself, unlike Trevor and Safira. They obviously had no warning. Trevor had not even had time to remove his ax from the wood in which it lay embedded next to where the front door had been.

  Who would wish harm upon these good people? What secrets did they harbor; for surely they had done no evil in their lifetimes? What manner of being would want them dead?

  So many questions swarmed around Cairn’s brow, like bees around a waiting Queen, only to be frustrated by a lack of answers altogether. He knew so little of these people to whom he had become so intimately attached so quickly and so briefly. He would find out! In time he would determine who did this and why. But, no matter how pressing it seemed to him at the moment, he could never forget what brought him this way in the first place. He had been called, and he could not stray from his path now. Cairn of Thermaye would have to gather the boy, Tomas, find Calyx and resume his mission. He had to reach Baladar as soon as he could and he still had a long and dangerous trail to follow. Now he would also have the welfare of a small boy to protect, an innocent lad, whose life had just been turned inside out, a life that he had just entered and one that he was now bound to forever, albeit, through a tragedy greater than any other he had probably yet experienced in his short lifetime.

  Gathering his things from the cottage, he found his way through the bushes, back to the boy. He concentrated his thoughts upon Calyx, summoning him so that they could quickly inform Tomas of the new and harrowing circumstances and be on their way. As Cairn emerged from the trees and passed through the tall, green meadow grass, the beautiful Lalas once again in vivid sight before him, he observed the unmistakable motion of his companion bolting through the herbage to attend him. Almost simultaneously, he heard the distinct sound of a child humming, and only seconds later the air crackled in response.

  Chapter Nine

  Robyn dar Tamarand knew how to travel and how to do it quickly. He was by far one of the best horsemen in the city, and his horse Kraft, was among the finest in the land. Together, they would make the long journey from Concordia in the north west, southward to Baladar’s kingdom. Robyn always traveled without any other companions, entirely his own choice, so as not to frighten or confuse other humans who did not share his extraordinary abilities. He had few friends after all, and he had yet to meet anyone who measured up to his talents. He was anything but a fool, though, to assume that such a person did not exist. He had just not yet encountered him or her. That time would come, he knew, and he hoped that it would be under friendly circumstances.

  As he slid down from the tree branch and bid a short and meaningful goodbye to Promanthea, certain that his soul-mate knew much more about where he was going and why than he had communicated to Robyn. But, he was also convinced that no amount of time or effort would serve to open the tree’s thoughts to his mind when it came to this matter. Robyn dar Tamarand realized when to expend his energy and when to conserve it. He was no common dolt. He would make his farewells, suffer the pang
s of separation with grace and dignity as always, and move on. He knew that Promanthea would commune with him as soon as need required. In the meantime, he would get no more advice or help from him, of that he was certain.

  Robyn signaled for Kraft and the big horse attended him immediately. Together, they returned to the castle so that Robyn could make the preparations necessary for the journey. He wished to bid farewell to his father, too, before setting off for the southern reaches, even though the Baron was well accustomed to his unannounced comings and goings. He felt compelled to say goodbye this time, as he truly knew not how long he would be gone, nor what was in store for him whence he arrived at his destination. He desired to see his father, to be in his presence once again, and to leave with the memory of his spirit and soul upon him. Robyn was a good son, not the careless narcissist that many people were led to believe he was.

  “Your Lordship, your son returns,” Baron Calipee’s aide remarked, having spotted Robyn trotting lazily through the gates outside of the windows of the conference hall. “No doubt, he had a pleasant evening,” he commented with a knowing smirk on his face.

  Ah, the indignities we have to endure to maintain this ruse, the Baron thought, hiding his eagerness to be with Robyn once again.

  “No doubt, Dustin. No doubt. I only wish he would put as much energy into matters of state as he does into women and wine.”

  “Do not blame yourself, your Lordship,” Dustin replied. “Most men would trade places with him if they could.”

  “Yes, but Robyn is not ‘most men’! He is of royal blood, and he has responsibilities. I have no other heir but he, and I fear for the kingdom should I grow ill or become incapacitated.”

  “We all pray for you, my Lord. I am sure many share your concerns,” Dustin stated and quickly realized his words were not comforting, but rather brought to the fore the problem everyone dreaded,