The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  Baladar was struck by the modesty of the youth and he envisioned this small Elf, no more than a young man himself, fighting off the wolves in order to protect Davmiran. He developed a strong liking for this boy instantly.

  “You have done a wonderful thing, Elion. Are you aware of just how important a role you have played in this untoward event? You may have saved us all with your deeds. History will remember you well for this,” Baladar exclaimed, more relieved than he cared to relate.

  “I was so worried that you would think that I kidnaped him, and that you would therefore hate me and my people for this. I had to come here myself and apologize for stealing him from your home,” he said humbly, his eyes downcast.

  “You did not steal him, you saved his life! Remember that always. You were fated to be here, outside my gates, at that very moment! There can be no other explanation for it,” he responded, elated with the news. “Make no mistake about it my son, it was not coincidence but destiny.”

  Elion looked pleased for the first time since his arrival, and it appeared as if a grey cloud had lifted from his head.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Elion said as he pulled the message from his tunic that his father sent him to deliver. “My father wanted me to give this to you. But, I think that I have probably already related to you everything he wrote,” Elion said bashfully.

  “I will read it later. But, tell me? Did the boy awaken or was he still insensate when you left?” the Lord of Pardatha inquired, hoping that the ‘magic’ of Seramour may have had its affects on Davmiran.

  “He was still asleep, or whatever you want to call it. My mother is a healer and she was going to attend to him, but I left before she had the opportunity. She is a fine healer. He may be better by now,” Elion said with pride, believing fully in his mother’s abilities.

  “It is not an illness he is suffering from, my young friend,” Baladar replied seriously. “I fear that nothing will rouse him from his ‘slumber’ until he is returned to me. I am one of but a few who hold the key to his future awareness,” he concluded.

  “I am sorry for taking him away from you, but I do have other important news to tell you that may make you glad he is not still here,” the young Elf said, his slanted eyes downcast once more.

  “What could possibly make me feel that way apart from the very presence of Colton dar Agonthea in our midst?” Baladar said jokingly, and then he regretted immediately having uttered his name.

  “That is exactly what I need to tell you!” Elion began. “On my way here, below in the gorge beneath the great forest, I saw the most massive army I have ever seen. It was preparing to march in the direction of Pardatha!”

  Baladar paled considerably at the boy’s words.

  “An army, you say? And whose standards did it bear?”

  “Caeltin D’Are Agenathea’s—a red sun on a black field! I saw Trolls, Orcs, Giants and Mages atop hideous, fire breathing beasts. I lost count, but there were thousands upon thousands of them,” the Elfin Prince responded quickly, the words rushing from his mouth now as he raised his eyes to meet Baladar’s own.

  “I did not know which news to tell you first,” he said.

  The older man did not move. Then he laughed quietly to himself, causing Elion to look at him askew.

  When Baladar saw the young Elf staring up at him as if he had lost his senses, he began to speak.

  “First you bring me news, better than any I could have hoped for regarding Davmiran, and then I am told that we are about to be invaded by a formidable force, by Colton himself. Do you not see the irony in this?” Baladar asked rhetorically.

  “I beg your pardon, sir. I did not mean to say anything wrong. I did not consciously choose the order in which I imparted my news to you,” he said regretfully. “Of course you didn’t. I meant not to cast aspersion upon you, my boy. I have just recently been experiencing some rather disparate emotions. The fabric weaves of its own will, it seems. But the news you bring is grave indeed.” He walked to the doorway, turned to Elion and said, “You are right indeed! I am glad that Davmiran is not here. Fate once again has intervened. But, I am afraid that you are now trapped here in Pardatha instead. I cannot allow you to return from whence you came with an army on the march,” he commented, thinking all the while. “You should go north again, to your uncle. If you leave now, you can be there in five or six days,” Baladar suggested, contemplating the options.

  Elion hesitated for an instant and then said, “I would like to stay here, if you will allow me to. I would like to help in any way that I can,” the Elfin Prince said, holding his head high. “I feel a part of this now, my Lord, and I would not wish to leave. That is, if you will give me permission to stay?” he asked, his slanted eyes peeking expectantly at the older man.

  Baladar cogitated upon this bold, young Elf for a moment and then responded, “I would be honored to have you here, Prince Elion! Your services would be greatly appreciated. And, we have much work to do. But, you must understand the peril you will be putting yourself in. I cannot have more on my conscience than I do already,” he commented, half to himself.

  “I understand, sir. I understand only too well. But, I feel that I should be here, that I am supposed to be here, and I would rather not leave the city now,” he replied in a mature and forthright manner.

  Baladar looked him deeply in the eyes and said, “Well then, Elion, I accept your courageous offer of assistance! Now, you must clean yourself up and get some rest and nourishment or you will be of no use to anyone, but before you go, we must revise the dispatches I had prepared to send when you interrupted me,” he said smiling, as he retrieved the bird cage from underneath the table.

  The Pardathan Lord opened the small door and removed one of the grey doves, as Elion watched inquisitively. He detached the note from its leg and tossed it aside.

  “We must inform your father that you have arrived here safely and that you will remain here for some measure. We must also ask him to keep Davmiran under his protection for the time being. Is there anything you wish to say?” he asked Elion.

  “Please tell him of Colton’s advance. He would want to know,” Elion replied. “Also,” he continued, his head downcast. “Please say that I am sorry for deceiving him, but that I felt it was necessary. He will know what I mean,” the young Elf said, knowing that his father will forgive him once he hears the full story, but still uncomfortable with the subterfuge he was compelled to commit.

  “Certainly, lad. As far as him knowing of our peril, perhaps you are right, he should be aware. But I do not want to involve your kingdom in the affairs of Pardatha. He may feel an obligation to come to our aid, particularly when he hears that you are trapped in the city,” he responded with some reluctance.

  “The Dark Lord’s movements are every Nation’s concern…,” the Elf said with a wisdom much greater than his years, “…and if my father feels that he should march to our assistance, then that should be his choice. I will ask him to remain in Seramour and to prepare his own defenses, though. He knows that he cannot remain apart from this conflict indefinitely. What affects the weave here, will affect it everywhere eventually. He must also know just how important Davmiran’s welfare is to us all. Once we explain, I believe that he will take the necessary precautions. He also knows the strength of Pardatha. He should not fear for me whilst I am here. My father is not a rash man,” Elion reasoned while trying to convince himself at the same time.

  Baladar smiled at him, despite the dour circumstances, and composed the communication.

  “I will tell him as much as I must and as little as I can,” he said.

  Baladar placed the note back in its container, attached it once more to the bird’s leg and then walked to the window. Opening it wide, he released the bird into the air and then together they watched it fly away until they could see it no longer.

  Baladar turned to Elion and said, “I intended to question your uncle Bristar of the north, as well about Davmiran. That is no longer necessary. Is t
here anything you wish me to tell him now?”

  He thought for a minute before responding.

  “Yes, he should know of Colton’s movements also. I lived with him for the past few years and I know him well. My uncle is an honorable Elf and he would be furious with me if I had knowledge such as this and kept it from him. I would be doing him a great disservice,” the young Elf said wisely.

  “I suppose that all the world will find out soon enough anyway. These events are but the beginning of a series, I fear. Those whose paths have run parallel all these tiels, will find them merging in the face of a common enemy,” he replied. “You are wise to suggest that he should be informed as well,” Baladar concluded, and he shook his head in agreement. “It is not for me to conceal the truth from the other nations. Yet, I do not wish for anyone to interpret the dissemination of information as a plea. My words must be chosen carefully.”

  Together they composed a short note, taking great care to word it properly and then they dispatched it in the same manner.

  “It is too late to retrieve the one that I sent just before you arrived here, but it can do no real harm. Your western brethren in Eleutheria have never been too interested in the problems of our world and I have no right to seek to draw them into events that they wish to remain apart from now. They need not know of our troubles beyond that of the ‘missing boy’,” Baladar said, and then he returned to the center of the room.

  Elion knew little about his western cousins and he thus remained silent in that regard.

  “It is time now for you to get some well deserved rest! Do not argue with me about this now, my boy,” Baladar said as he opened the study door and called for Grogan and some attendants.

  When they arrived, he instructed them to take Prince Elion to the chambers nearest to his own and to tend to his needs. Placing his arm fondly around the Elf’s shoulders, he looked into the depths of his soul and said, “You have done me two great services today for which I will be forever grateful, for which the world will be forever grateful! You have brought me news of Davmiran, the heir of Gwendolen, and you have advised me of the approach of an invading army, thus allowing us to prepare well before we may have been able to otherwise. You cannot not know how important your deeds are to us all!”

  At the mention of the words ‘heir of Gwendolen’, Elion’s eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. It all made sense to him at that moment, the feelings, the wonder, the beauty of the boy! He left Baladar’s company imbued with incredulity while at the same time, charged with apprehension. He could not help but feel as if he had stepped into the very middle of a legend. He turned to go, and as he left the room he passed Baladar’s Master at Arms entering the study.

  He heard Baladar say gravely, “Grogan, attend me. The Dark Lord is on the march with all his minions, it seems, and Pardatha I fear, is his destination!” as the door closed behind him.

  Elion followed the page down the long hallway, thinking about his mother and father and hoping that they would be proud of him. When and if he saw them again, he would explain why he had to make this journey, why he had to be the one and not Jerial whom his father had designated to be the messenger. He wanted them to know and he prayed that they would understand. He thought of Davmiran, and despite all of his previous concerns, despite the impending onslaught, despite the thought of the Lord of Darkness himself advancing upon him, a smile crossed his lips and lingered there for just long enough to make him feel better.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  As soon as Elion left the room, Baladar took the first step on that long, dreaded walk down the path of no return, the road that would lead to death and captivity or victory and jubilation. He gathered his ministers together and gave the orders that would change the lives of his people forever, come good or come evil.

  The plans were well laid and well-rehearsed, and like clockwork, they were carried out. His officers were skillfully organized and thus the word went out quickly to all the citizens of Pardatha, as well as to the surrounding towns and villages.

  The bell tower in the main square of the city rang ceaselessly for one full hour, signaling the most dour of circumstances, and its warning was echoed by all the bells erected in the surrounding countryside for just this purpose; to signal an imminent invasion by a foreign force. Immediately, the citizenry began to mobilize. The herds were gathered, the horses were corralled and the children were sent home from their schools.

  All of the men, women and children living outside the walls of Pardatha gathered their essential belongings and began to assemble in the main square of the city to await instructions as to where they would be domiciled. The men and boys of age reported to the headquarters of the Master at Arms and began to receive their instructions regarding the particular role they each would play in the defense of the city. The women who were trained in battle, those who were not raising children and those who were not with child, reported as well to Grogan and his lieutenants. Weapons were dispersed, responsibilities were explained and everyone rose to the call.

  During times of peace, the city’s population was approximately thirty thousand civilians and half again as many soldiers. Within two days, the numbers would swell to one hundred thousand. Of the sixty five thousand some odd refugees, thirty thousand would be armed and ready to fight to the end to defend Pardatha, their families and their lifestyles.

  The citizens of the smaller towns and villages dotting the countryside that lay in the path of the approaching invaders would all take refuge in Pardatha, lending their support as well as straining the city’s resources. It had been tiels since Pardatha was the target of aggression. But, with the trees dying all around, the people were not surprised that their safety was now in jeopardy. The darkness was bound to reach out to them, they reasoned, and they were grateful that it had been held at bay for as long as it had been.

  Pardathans were sturdy folk, hard-nosed and tough; hardy workers too. They would not surrender their city easily to any threat, and that could be seen in the way that they mobilized, in the manner that they dealt with the call to arms, in the determination that they expressed as they rallied their forces.

  Whosoever attacked Pardatha attacked a people united, a city committed to its own preservation, to the preservation of a lifestyle of service and sacrifice for the greater good. They believed that their leader, Baladar, was a good man, and that he would advise them well and honestly. Although fear snuck up on some, it remained for the most part under the surface, and the people were not willing to let it overtake them.

  They held their heads high even in the face of separation, as fathers bade farewell to wives and children, as children said their goodbyes to their families, and as familial units were sundered by the approach of the invaders. But, like a well-rehearsed play, the participants all knew their lines and where they were to go to next.

  There was so much activity in the city that it was dizzying. People and wagons were rushing from one end to the other. Troops were gathering and battalions were forming from within, as well as entering, already formed, from the outskirts. The nearby towns were evacuated and the citizenry made its solemn way to the safety of Pardatha. Animals bellowed, horses whinnied, people shouted and children cried.

  Constantly now the horns would blow, announcing the arrival of a small army from the north, a battalion from the west, a tribe of woodsmen from the hills to the east, a troop of soldiers from across the lake, and the people of Pardatha would take note of who came to take refuge and to lend their support. The winds of war were blowing steadily through the city, the machinery was churning, and everyone, young and old, rich and poor, strong and weak, would soon be caught up in the maelstrom.

  Baladar sent his scouts out to gather as much advance information as they could and he awaited news from the scouts already in place. He had the fields cleared of useful crops and the storerooms stocked to the bursting point. The battlements were manned, the towers attended and the gates would very soon be closed. Pardatha would be sealed
tight and no one would be able to enter or leave unless they were opened from within, or until they crumbled in the face of an onslaught from without. The siege of Pardatha was about to begin.

  Baladar walked out onto the ramparts and surveyed, sad-eyed, the preparations that were going on all over the city. He climbed the catwalk of narrow stone stairs that led to the top of the Ghost Tower. The turret was dark and musty, and cobwebbed from lack of traffic. He brushed the invisible strands from before his eyes as he ascended to the top. Adjacent to the Noban gates in the very center of the city’s walls, the Ghost tower provided him with a clear view down the valley to the south.

  The tower was so named by his predecessor after the death of his nephew, a young boy he loved dearly. He perished prematurely while playing atop it, and it was believed that the innocent child’s spirit walked its stones still. The boy, Cotwald, mysteriously fell two hundred feet to the ground over the crenellated side, and few chose to venture up there at all anymore since that day. Baladar had planned to tear it down and to reconstruct it, if only to ease his soldiers’ minds when need required them to be atop it. But he never had the time, and need surely beckoned him now.

  The darkness of the tower steps abruptly ended as he climbed the remaining few stone treads and emerged into the bright sunlight. Surveying the surrounding land from this vantage point, he was able to see far into the distance. Despite the impressive height of the tower, the mighty Thorndars dwarfed it in comparison, rising behind the city and shrouded in a thick mist.

  He envisioned what would take place shortly and he shuddered in anticipation. Baladar knew that the impending confrontation was necessary and that there was no alternative to what was about to unfold beneath these mighty walls. If Pardatha fell, then it would only be a matter of time before Avalain, Talamar, Concordia and all the other cities and counties followed suit. But, if Davmiran survived then hope would survive. This he alone knew, and if Colton was attacking Pardatha in order to capture the heir of Gwendolen, then he would be disappointed if and when he broke through the defenses of the city. Thus, even in victory the Dark One would lose.