The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “He is a good boy, you know? He loves too deeply and lusts too deeply, but that is only a sign of his passion. He will mature. He has no choice.”

  The Baron ambled over to the large, leaded windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Robyn as he entered the outer courtyard.

  He has such a way about him; such striking beauty and such seeming arrogance. His enemies will do well not to underestimate him, Baron Calipee thought with a great degree of comfort.

  Robyn swaggered into the hall with such insouciance and indifference that only his striking looks would have caught the attention of an observer. He appeared to have not a care in the world; to be idly passing the time. He plucked a bunch of grapes from a laden table in the entryway, beckoned a servant to fetch a pitcher of wine and a pair of goblets and plumped himself down in a high-backed chair at the very end of the table of state.

  “Father, I am exhausted!” he exclaimed. “I was up all of the night just thinking about it, or should I say her. The most extraordinary thing has happened.”

  “Pray tell,” the Baron responded. “You met a woman?” he mocked.

  “Not just ‘any’ woman, father. An incredible woman. A lady!” Robyn retorted. “How did you know anyway, father?” Robyn asked rather mystified.

  “How could I not? I know you too well, my son. I wish only that your passion for the opposite sex was matched by your interest in your position and responsibilities,” he said, frowning.

  “But is that not what you do, father? You are forever interested in nothing but your position and responsibilities. Is that not why I have no mother to comfort me?” he asked sarcastically, clearly meaning to hurt his father.

  The Baron turned sharply toward his son, raised his head to speak, and then hesitated. The anger rising as he calmed himself and turned to Dustin.

  “Please leave us. I wish to speak privately with my son. Have them bring the wine now, and be gone.”

  Dustin recognized the tone coming from his Lordship and he hastened to obey.

  “As you wish, sir,” was all he said as he went to the doorway, signaled for the servant with the refreshments, saw to their proper placement and turned to retreat to other quarters.

  “I will be waiting for your pleasure, my Lord,” Dustin remarked, reluctant to depart and leave the Baron in such an agitated state, fully expecting it only to be exacerbated by a private conference with Robyn. Baron Calipee would be in a dreadful mood upon his return, of that he was sure.

  As soon as Dustin closed the door securely, Robyn and his father stood and walked toward one another. Rather than fight, they embraced with such deep feeling it brought tears to the older man’s eyes.

  “Ah, my son, the price we pay for your safety. I pray for the day when we can be openly father and son, the way I would like everyone to view us, the true way.”

  “It concerns me not, father. I have learned to ignore the sneers and snickers. The ones that I care about know the truth,” he replied, placing his hand affectionately upon his father’s shoulder.

  “What brings you to me this afternoon? Surely you did not arrive to share a glass of wine?” Calipee uttered as he poured two glasses of wine from the crystal vase on the table.

  “No, father. I only wish. But more serious matters have presented themselves. I have been called somewhere by someone whose summons I cannot ignore, even if I so desired,” Robyn said with a quite serious demeanor. “I must leave immediately.”

  The Baron turned to his son and said “Somewhere by someone? Can you not even tell your own father what need has beckoned?” he asked, concern in his voice.

  “No, sir, I cannot. I do not wish to endanger either you or my friends in this matter. The less you know, the less you can reveal.”

  “You think I would ever utter a word about this if you asked me not to? If I knew it would place you in jeopardy? The fabric weaves of its own will, my son. There is often little we can do to prevent it,” Calipee said, the hurt obvious in his voice.

  “Father, never! I would not suggest that you would ever intend to reveal anything. But if you do not know my whereabouts, then no one would attempt to compel you to try to give me up. As soon as I am confident that you can remain safe, you will know everything. The matter I must attend to is very grave and the future is yet to be foretold. I know not what circumstances may prevail here after I am gone.”

  “Are we in danger, Robyn? Should we take more precautions?” he questioned, walking to the large windows overlooking the city.

  “We are always in danger, father, as long as the trees are dying. Our whole world is in danger.”

  “Yes, it is. I feel the darkness approaching daily. What says Promanthea?” he inquired, gazing intently at his son.

  “He remains silent. I glimpse only snippets of meaning from the waves of feeling he sends to me. He will not commune with me about my journey at all.”

  “Is that odd? Does it cause you concern? Perhaps you should not go. Maybe that is what he is trying to tell you with his secretiveness. Remember what happened when I failed to recognize the portent of my premonitions and let your mother go that evening!” the Baron said fearfully.

  “No, father, I am sure not. Promanthea knows more than he wants me to know now. But, there is no question that I must leave and that I must leave very soon. Every minute I delay is a minute less that I will have to fulfill my task. My help is needed,” he said. “And father?” Robyn remarked as he placed his hand on the Baron’s shoulder, “Mother’s death was not your fault. You had no way of knowing what would really happen that night. And besides, she was a strong-willed woman. She would have patted you on the back and told you that you worry too much. She would have gone anyway. You know that and I know that.”

  “Well, I suppose you are right, Robyn. But it hurts me so deeply when I think that maybe I could have prevented her from taking that journey that particular day. We had so few enemies and she had none, or so I believed. I could not have known,” he said sadly. “If only life was filled with more perfect moments and fewer regrets over lost ones and ones that never had a chance to occur. But, alas, I have learned to accept what has befallen us,” he said, gazing blankly out the window. “It is difficult, nonetheless, for me to watch you hasten off into harm’s way too. But, there is no preventing that which must be. Let me not keep you any longer,” he said. “I have learned how to say goodbye though it never ceases to break my heart. It is not often though that I do not know the why or wherefore of your quests.”

  The Baron moved to his son once more and he embraced him and kissed his cheek as if he was a young boy.

  “I will contact you when I can; when it is safe. Keep your branch near you at night and I will reach you through it,” Robyn said referring to the polished piece of wood that he found at the foot of his tree one day years ago, shortly after his mother’s untimely death; a sure sign of his tree’s compassion.

  He learned that he could activate it and speak through it if he had to. It hurt him to do it as nothing else did, leaving him exhausted and vulnerable afterward. But, the hurt was only temporary, bequeathing no permanent injury upon him. Using the Lalas or a piece of it to communicate with someone who was not among the Chosen was painstaking and exacted an emotional price.

  It was not often that a tree allowed a part of itself, a part of its body, to be removed and used like this. But, Promanthea recognized the extraordinary and special love that existed between this father and son and so he permitted it. This Lalas disliked it nonetheless and he made his feelings known to Robyn many a time, regardless of the fact that he offered the branch to Robyn without a request and without discussion. Robyn chose his moments of usage very carefully, making sure he did not abuse the gift. Promanthea was wise and kind but possessive, and although the Baron was Robyn’s blood father, his Lalas held a different and loftier position in the hierarchy of his life, one that he protected with a passion only Robyn fully comprehended.

  “Farewell, my son. May the First protect you,” his
father finally spoke, impassioned, moving closer to his son once again.

  “I love you father, with all my heart! Protect yourself! Be vigilant. I will return as soon as I am able.”

  With those words, Robyn kissed his father’s forehead, turned and emptied his wine in one gulp, then moved toward the door and opened it just a little crack in order for what he was about to say to be heard down the entire hallway. Backing up a few yards, he threw the empty goblet with great force at the oaken slab so that the sound of shattering glass echoed down the stone passageway and was noticed by everyone in this wing of the castle.

  “I will go, father,” he shouted. “And I thank you not to summon me again soon! Why must you always burden me with tiresome words? I want to enjoy my life, not waste away following in your oppressive footsteps.”

  The Baron hung his head in dejection as his son stormed out of the room, carelessly brushing past Dustin and the serving maids with the cockiness of a strutting rooster, scattering towels and linens in the process.

  “What are you staring at?” he shouted at Dustin. “Tend to my father. I am sure he needs your mothering now since he has no other woman to come to his aid.”

  With that final bitter admonition, Robyn flung open the iron clad doors at the end of the hall and marched into the courtyard, his cape snapping behind him. Before he mounted Kraft, he chanced a glance backward. Catching his father’s eye, Robyn sent him an invisible spark of hope on the wings of a son’s love as he simultaneously observed Dustin’s disgusted yet disappointed expression, and with a heavy heart he spurred his mount toward the gates and out into the approaching darkness. He tilted his head back a bit and sighed a deep sigh of regret for the suffering he imposed upon all of his father’s loyal and devoted followers. Then, he stiffened his resolve and galloped into the darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  Filaree swept through the castle gates with Cameron following not far behind and leapt from Nico’s back.

  “Catha! Marne! Yovanda! Come, attend me!” she announced without breaking her stride. “Cameron; gather my weapons and your own as well,” Filaree said, as the castle staff burst into action. The urgency in her voice startled them all and they knew better than to question her instructions. “Make sure they are sharpened and polished. I will see you before the sun rises, ready to travel, in the courtyard.”

  Cameron nodded and stood waiting for further orders.

  “Well? What are you looking at me for? Begone! Scat! I have much work to do before we depart and I know you do too,” she said affectionately, while waving her hand at him as if she was shooing away a bothersome pet.

  He smiled, understanding her humor by now, but hastened away regardless, not wishing to risk turning her excitement into anger by not taking her seriously.

  “Yes my Lady, at once!” he responded, honored to be depended upon so thoroughly. Cameron recognized that his Lady’s reaction to this event was unlike any he had experienced from her before. He was flattered to be the one chosen to accompany her and he jumped to the task.

  As she made her way hurriedly into the depths of the castle with the three other women following closely behind, Filaree continued to dispense directions, never hesitating for an instant.

  “Ladies, I will be leaving for the southern reaches before dawn breaks. I must have provisions packed that will last Cameron and me for at least three weeks. Make certain that they are light in weight and economically packed. See to them after you do the things I am now asking. Yovanda! Go directly to my rooms and fetch my ebony cloak, you know which one I mean, and bring it to the library. Catha! Run and tell my mother that I will need to speak with her and Corvina in the library as well in thirty minutes.”

  They both burst into action at her words.

  “Marne, would you fetch me some parchment and a pen and ink and meet me in the library as soon as you can?”

  “Yes, my Lady,” she answered and scurried off.

  Glancing straightaway from side to side to make sure that her orders were being carried out by all, she stopped briefly at a large alabaster table set against the wall in the corridor leading to the great hall. After the others were out of her sight, Filaree ran her hand down the leftmost side, hurriedly searching for something. Upon finding what she sought, she sprang the latch and a panel slid down while a drawer popped open on the opposite side of the table over to which she moved with studied determination. Reaching her long and graceful fingers into the opening, she removed a brilliant dagger, the hilt of which was studded with fine gems, black sapphires and amethysts, and capped by a large ruby.

  After slipping the blade into the silk sash securing her frock, she reached once more into the drawer. This time, she retracted a small ornament, black as night, carved in the shape of a tree hanging on a thin chain of spun gold. Filaree examined it quickly, nodded to herself, and maneuvered it gingerly over her head until it was quickly out of sight, inside the soft suede of her tunic. Never hesitating for an instant, she continued down the long hallway.

  Upon entering the library, Filaree Par D’Avalain went directly to the wall of scrolled maps. Pushing those in the front out of the way, knocking others off the shelves in the process and completely unconcerned with the mess she was creating, she searched for what she now needed. Upon finding it, she grabbed the scroll tied with rawhide strings, dashed to the reading table in the center of the vaulted room and with both arms outstretched, swept all of the articles covering it onto the floor. Pulling the dagger from her belt, Filaree furiously slashed the rawhide bindings, spread the map out from end to end, using the dagger as a weight for one side and an inkwell to anchor the other end, and began to examine it. She had to find the fastest and best route to Baladar and the boy.

  With two swift horses, her mount, Nico and Cameron’s Trojan, she anticipated a week’s travel time at most. But, the weather was changing rapidly now and many areas would be icy and treacherous. She would need to plot her course carefully if she wanted to keep to her plans. Some of the areas they would have to traverse were barren and forsaken, no Lalas had grown in the vicinity for tiels, and they were inhabited by wood Trolls and other scavengers even more dangerous and gruesome than the dreaded Trolls.

  She realized after a cursory inspection of the terrain on the map, that there was no avoiding this pathway though, as the western route was blocked by ice floes damning the Lake of Tears and prohibiting any crossing to the south, while the eastern passes through the mountains would take too many weeks just to ascend to on horseback, let alone pass across to the other side. No. The only viable route was directly south, across the bare plains of Chilmark, through the Winding Woods, then over the Tammell hills.

  Filaree traced this path with her finger down the map to the southernmost base of the hills, carefully calculating how long each leg of the journey should take. Everclear lake formed the final obstacle they would need to surmount. The lake would be the least of their worries. If they could get to that point in six days or less, then she was sure that they could reach Baladar on the desired date.

  Filaree carefully rolled the parchment up, bound and tied it once again, and placed it on the side of the table. As she was straightening up the mess she made, a tall, stately woman in a gown of crimson lace, re-embroidered with dozens of white roses, high-necked with a train of white satin trailing behind her, stepped into the room. Queen Esta was a striking woman whose age no one could ever guess. She had porcelain-like skin, the color of fresh cream, with lips as shapely and red as a young girl’s. Her long black hair was piled high on her head, bound with pins of silver, each intricately inlaid with ivory. She walked with dignity and grace, evoking an atmosphere of calmness and a sense of well-being whenever she entered a room.

  Glancing around the library, noticing the mess that her daughter had created, she smiled and said, “Filaree, what has become of your need for order? For one to whom everything has its proper place, you have surely strayed from your usual path.”

  “Mother, I am in no
mood for humor right now. I have been ‘called.’ I must go to Baladar and the boy!” Her eyes were wide and anxious.

  The Queen barely moved, but a close observer who knew her well would have noticed a slight stagger as she quickly righted herself

  “So, the time has arrived. I have hoped and prayed that it would,” she said as she bent her head thoughtfully to the side. “Honestly though, my daughter, I have also dreaded this day,” the Queen continued as a single tear made its way slowly down her cheek. “But, our lives have never been our own to control and our destinies are yet to be written. When must you go? How soon? What can I do to aid your preparations?”

  “I must leave before dawn. I cannot wait any longer than that. I have only just mapped my path and it will take all of my skill to get to Baladar in a reasonable amount of time as it is. The trip will not be easy this time of year. There is nothing you can do to help me now, mother. Just pray for me, and for all of us.”

  “You will need an escort. I will call Lord Markel and have him ready a guard for you,” she said as she turned to summon her chief of staff.

  “No, mother! I will travel only with Cameron to assist me. The fewer people who know where I am going and why, the better. We cannot afford to be waylaid.”

  “Will you be safe my dear? Just the two of you?”

  “I will be as safe with Cameron at my side as with an entire army. Together, we will travel more quickly and more stealthily than any other pair I know of. He is the most loyal soldier in the castle. No harm will come to me if he is nearby.”

  “Must you go, my darling Filaree?” she said, knowing the answer fully well, but needing to ask the question nonetheless.

  “You know I must. I have waited for this moment almost my entire life. You would have gone yourself, mother, had you been called ten years ago instead of me.”

  “Yes, I would have, I know. I would have welcomed the opportunity. But you are my daughter and I am your mother! I fear for you, and I will miss you more than you will ever know, more than you could even imagine,” she said, moving to Filaree’s side.