The Twins

by Gary Alan Wassner

  He worked himself into an absolute frenzy, sending streaks of raw power arching across the heads of his terrified disciples, singeing trees and blackening rocks. He was so infuriated that he could barely contain his outbursts and he caused the very earth to tremble under his feet. His face was a contorted mass of veins that pulsated through his almost translucent skin. The seductive good looks had given way to his true form; a monstrous beast, scarred and taloned, the previous facade totally abandoned in his rage.

  “Rise! Rise I say!” he shouted, sending volleys of sound rebounding all over the huge camp. “We will tear the walls of Pardatha down, rock by rock. I will find the boy. He is mine! I will find him and I will destroy him if I must. Those pathetic idiots can keep me from him no longer!”

  The noise was deafening as the army of Colton dar Agonthea, death bringer, prophet of doom, harbinger of dissolution, mobilized. The dust rose so high and thick from the frenetic movement of this massive gathering that it obscured what sun was left in the sky. The heavens grew dark and bleak, and a biting wind began to blow. From the temple mount, within the solemn oval of the war council, Lord Baladar, Lady Filaree, Prince Elion, Robyn dar Tamarand, Grogan and the other councilors, generals and warriors, could see the clouds of dust rising ominously from the gorge.

  They had deployed the forces of the city atop the battlements. Hundreds of tons of boulders set twenty paces apart from one another, lay waiting to be thrown over the sides. Hot oil steamed in vast cauldrons, ready to be heaved onto the heads of any who tried to scale the walls. Archers with bucklers and crossbows lined the ramparts, pointing their razor sharp shafts through the narrow slits of the crenellated walls. Massive basins of flaming liquid stood next to the countless bowmen, who each carried long, tightly strung weapons atop the fortifications, prepared to rain fiery arrows down upon the attackers. Funnels carefully and strategically tunneled into the solid stone of the surface would direct the oil onto the heads of those below.

  Swordsmen, some with two handed swords of heavy steel and others wielding lighter sabers sharpened on both sides, stood side by side with strong armed fighters holding long spears of light weight wood, tipped with fine points of razor sharp stone. They faced the oncoming enemy undaunted, ready to give their lives to protect the city and their families from the evil approaching.

  From their vantage point atop the temple mount, the highest natural point in Pardatha, the valiant leaders of the opposition could see the opposing army advancing, seemingly limitless in size, led by thirteen fire spouting Valkor with sorcerers astride each. The minions of the Dark Lord spread out behind them, blackening the earth with their numbers. Baladar watched pensive from his chair, as did all of the others. Elion and Robyn had both had first-hand experience with regard to this army, witnessing its composition from a closer range. They provided what details they could to the council as it massed beneath the walls of the fair city. No one else spoke whilst the enemy advanced, and each member of the war tribunal absorbed in his or her own fashion, the scene that was unfolding before them.

  Elion related from memory just how many Giants, Wood Trolls, Orcs and other malevolent hirelings he had counted on his journey to Pardatha. Robyn, too, recounted what he had observed from the cover of the woods. And it seemed currently that the tally was even greater than before, that the multitudes had swelled as they marched, gathering all the forsaken strays they passed along the road to the city. They could all see Colton clearly now, sitting atop his silver steed, a swathe of green space separating him from any other member of his throng, making it easy to spot him amid the black sea of marching marauders.

  Elion’s sharp eyes discerned the cadaver of the remaining envoy first, and he said to the group, “Colton spared no time in meting out his punishment, I see.”

  Baladar focused his eyes as did the others, and soon enough they all saw the gruesome scene that Elion was referring to. Propped up between two massive steeds was the pierced and spitted body of the still red cloaked member of the ambassador’s party, now both headless and armless.

  “He was not happy with the news, I take it,” Baladar remarked.

  “Did you ever think he would be?” Filaree asked without expecting an answer.

  “It must have infuriated him to find out that he came all of this way to capture someone who is not even here,” Elion said, truly thankful for the first time that he stumbled upon the helpless boy when he did.

  “Things are as they should be, Elion,” Baladar remarked, lips pressed together in a straight line.

  “Indeed!” Robyn commented. “The heir will live to see another day,” he said solemnly.

  “As will we all, sir!” Filaree clenched her fists.

  “As will we all!” Robyn repeated, looking at Filaree with respect and friendship.

  “My Lord, if I may?” Grogan asked.

  “By all means, speak, Master Grogan,” Baladar responded.

  “The city is well prepared. No matter what the Evil One throws up against us, we can withstand it…” he said, and then he hesitated for a moment before continuing, “… at least, for a while,” he concluded. “It will not be an easy victory for Colton,” he said with resignation in his voice.

  Ever the optimist, Filaree seized the moment.

  “It will not be a victory at all, Master at Arms! We have strengths here he knows nothing about!” she said, and she glanced conspicuously from Robyn to Elion. “He believes that the trees have abandoned us here and that we are isolated and alone,” she continued.

  “The Lady speaks the truth. But, he must know by now that we have a Chosen amongst us. He witnessed what transpired below as we all did,” Baladar said, capturing Robyn in his gaze.

  The Chosen closed his eyes and slowed his breath until he was deep in a trance of thought. All those around the great table looked upon him expectantly. The sun cast shadows across the stone but the scattered rays illuminated his downcast face, bestowing upon his skin a translucent appearance. Finally, Robyn raised his chin and slowly opened his eyes which glowed more beautifully than ever now, and then he began to speak.

  “The Lalas will never forsake the earth, not as long as they still live amongst us. Fate has brought me here, as it has you Filaree and you Elion. We were not led to Pardatha to die, but rather to help prepare for the future. I detect the power in the very stones of the city, in the soil upon which it stands and in the gates that seal it from danger. This power will protect us tomorrow as it has today and we will prevail! Pardatha!” Robyn exclaimed, thrusting his right hand high into the air, and the others all stood and cheered along with him, raising a shout that could be heard all around.

  “Pardatha! Pardatha!” they all exclaimed in unison, and the chant spread from the guardians on the mount to the soldiers surrounding the obelisks, down to the city streets and up to the battlements.

  “Pardatha! Pardatha!” everyone shouted, drowning out momentarily the din of the enemy’s armies, and resounding through the air up and over the city walls until the entire population of the besieged metropolis joined in and the very heavens rang with the heartening cheer.

  Colton dar Agonthea ceased his raving for an instant and listened to the reverberating dirge rising above the noise of the battlefield. For just one tiny moment, doubt rose like bitter bile in his throat and he looked around to reassure himself. As the noise died down, he rose up in his saddle and while standing high on his stirrups, he pierced the air with his deep, sonorous voice, shattering the silence.

  “Death to Pardatha!” he shouted venomously as his army surged forward all around him, and it would not stop again until it reached the very walls of the city itself.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Calyx, Tomas, Preston and Cairn walked single file in that order through the pass in the Thorndar’s that would eventually lead them to Pardatha. The sheer cliffs protected them and shielded them from any outside intervention. The only fear that Cairn harbored was that they could not fight easily if attacked from either th
e front or the back, but he relaxed in the knowledge that only one warrior at a time could engage them, and Calyx would be a match for anyone approaching from the front. He, Cairn, would defend the rear should the need arise. The pass was so narrow and deep that the sky was merely a sliver of blue high above their heads.

  Cairn glanced upward as shadows obscured their way, and he noticed that the heavens had turned grey and dimmed. A chill crawled up his arm and he shrugged it off like one would an annoying insect, and continued on his way. Calyx growled with apprehension as he too moved cautiously forward. Tomas sang softly to himself as if he hadn’t a care in the world and Preston joined him, mimicking him as they walked, their youthful voices echoing against the forbidding cliffs.

  The path wound precariously, getting steeper and steeper with each step. It remained narrow and tight for quite some time, rising higher and higher until it widened a bit and finally leveled off. The air was thick with dust and Cairn covered his mouth and nose with a scarf, signaling Tomas and Preston to do the same before their lungs became clogged with the floating detritus. The two boys followed his direction, and then they continued on.

  They walked in silence for some time except for the singing of the young ones, and soon they found themselves standing in a circular landing, high up in the cliffs. Two alleyways led off from the space, one spiraling downward and one angling upward. Cairn pointed to the path that descended from where they stood, and Calyx headed immediately for the narrow entryway.

  “We will come out from this pass high over the southern hills of Pardatha. The walls of the city are built into the cliffs and we cannot enter from the heights. We must wind our way down to the plain and then walk to the gates. Pardatha has few means of access,” Cairn related.

  Tomas looked at him head askew, as if he did not understand what Cairn was saying.

  “We cannot enter that way, Cairn. The gates are closed by now,” Tomas said matter-of-factly.

  Cairn looked at him, eyes wide, his sharp features creased in wonder.

  “Do you know this, Tomas? Are you certain?”

  “Oh, yes. I am certain. I can ‘smell’ the enemy. We are too late,” he said calmly as if he was merely commenting on something as simple as the approach of a rain storm.

  Calyx sniffed the air with his broad nose and it was clear that he too literally smelled an alien presence.

  “Too late?” Cairn asked. “Too late for what? What are you saying Tomas? What has happened?”

  Preston stood close to the others, hovering over Tomas awaiting the boy’s answer.

  “The gates are closed and Colton dar Agonthea, the Evil One, approaches,” Tomas replied with his eyes half closed and his brow furrowed.. “He believes that my brother is in the city,” he said.

  Cairn was confused and he was thinking so quickly now that he could barely form the words he needed to say.

  “Your brother? Who is your brother? Why would the Dark Lord seek him out? Tomas! You must answer me!” he pleaded, grabbing the boys arm and turning him so that they were face to face.

  “My brother is the heir of Gwendolen, as am I,” he said composed, with little emotion. “He does not know that I exist. No one knows I exist now except Ormachon and you three,” he said as if this news was unimportant.

  Cairn stood transfixed. He was clearly finding it difficult to respond to the boy’s remarks, and he was unable to absorb all of what was being said.

  “What are you saying? Please, Tomas, explain yourself!” Cairn finally demanded, not understanding fully what was being revealed to him.

  Tomas looked out over the mountains and spoke, his eyes squinting and his head tilted as if he was telling a story about someone else.

  “I was born to King Garold and Queen Lewellyn, but I was sick and I was sent away. They never knew me. They thought that I died. The trees brought me up, and I was given unto the care of my aunt Safira and uncle Trevor near where Ormachon grew. They knew the danger in raising me, but they did so willingly,” he said, turning his gentle eyes first to Cairn and then to Preston as he spoke.

  “I was told who I was when I was very young, and I knew that I had a brother, a twin.” Tomas squinted once more, and then he looked in the direction of Pardatha. He turned back to face Cairn after only a moment and then he continued on with his story.

  “When you arrived, I could see what was going to happen. When you were able to find me, I realized that the Dark One would be there soon too; that Colton’s scavengers could not be far behind.” He pursed his lips and let his head loll for an instant, obviously remembering what befell his adopted family. “It was fated to be that way. I wish that I could have done something to help, but we knew all along that when the time came, I would be unable to prevent what was to be,” he continued, lifting his head nobly. “I was trained by them all, by Ormachon and by Trevor. By Safira too. My aunt and uncle were not as they seemed, Cairn,” he said knowingly and with great pride, his beautiful eyes sparkling with the words.

  Cairn allowed the silence to hang upon the air before breaking it, realizing how much it spoke.

  “You are the twin brother of the boy I was summoned to help, the one cast to Baladar? Is that what you are telling me?” Cairn inquired, mystified, staring at Tomas.

  “Yes,” he replied, needing to say no more.

  Cairn paused for a moment, trying to incorporate all that had just been revealed to him, and he stood, shaking his head in wonder. He contemplated this amazing turn of events for a while longer, making a few abortive attempts to say something, but stopping himself each time before any words were uttered. Finally, Cairn broke his own unintentional silence.

  “Why did you not tell me this? Why wait until now?” he asked.

  “I believed this knowledge would influence how you treated me. I did not wish to affect the weave,” he answered, jaw set and eyes bright.

  “Did you say before that your brother is not in Pardatha?” Cairn asked, overwhelmed by this entire discussion.

  “Yes, I did. He is not there. I do not know why or where he is right now, but he is safe, I can feel it.”

  No one doubted the boy’s proclamation.

  “Pardatha is under attack, or will be soon. Colton seeks my brother. He believes that if he kills or captures him, then he will be free to ravish our world, that nothing else can prevent him from spurring on the dissolution he craves. He knows nothing of me,” he replied, so nonchalantly it seemed almost impossible. “He has never seen either of us,” he continued.

  “And yet, knowing the Evil One is here, you still follow me willingly to the gates of the city?” Cairn asked, awestruck by the boy’s courage.

  “Of course! It is my time!” he answered, gazing at Cairn with the innocence of a child to whom any other choice would be incomprehensible.

  His green eyes were open wide and stared completely guileless. Preston stood nearby watching closely and listening intently to everything being said.

  “I knew there was something special about you,” he interrupted, walking right next to Tomas. “I have a good sense about things like that. My father always told me that I was too sensitive, that I read into things and thought that I understood people when I really didn’t. He was wrong! I knew you were different, and I knew that I had to join you on your journey. It doesn’t surprise me that you are the heir, or whatever you say you are,” Preston remarked, glad to have become such good friends with Tomas on his own accord.

  “I, too, have no doubt you are what you claim to be. I am actually relieved to know now,” Cairn remarked, shifting his position so that he was once more in the forefront of the group. “But, this changes so much. How can I let you risk your life so easily, knowing what I know?” Cairn asked, perplexed and consumed with doubts that had not plagued him before.

  He looked hard at Tomas with a quizzical eye.

  “You cannot stop me, Cairn. It is my fate and you know it. We are all meant to be here. You, Preston,” he pointed to the Dwarf, “and you too,” he said t
o Cairn and Calyx. “Besides, nothing has changed. We are all no different than we were five minutes ago. Is my life more valuable now? If I had died yesterday before you ever knew what my lineage was, would the results have been any different than if I should die tomorrow?” Tomas questioned Cairn as if he were the elder of the two. “If Colton walks away from Pardatha victorious, my brother will not even have a chance. The others he needs are in the city already. They cannot perish here before they even overtake my brother,” the boy replied.

  “And I, as your guardian, am left to decide what is best for you and the world?” Cairn asked rhetorically, feeling the weight of these decisions upon him. “I have a new responsibility, Tomas! Knowledge begets duty. The effects upon our world would be equally bad if you should perish, regardless of what I may know or not know. But the effect upon me, now that I know who you are and why we have come together, would be devastating if I did not do all that was in my power to protect you.”

  The scholarly man’s yellow eyes blazed with passion. Calyx stood dutifully behind him, his saucer like orbs never resting for a moment while his broad nose flared as he took in all of the scents around them, remaining ever vigilant and protective.

  Tomas looked upon his human friend with understanding and compassion, appearing childlike and vulnerable to Cairn. He could not imagine any harm coming to him and the very thought of it sent chills down his spine.

  Tomas kicked the dry ground with his toe, sending small, swirling clouds of dust into the air around him. He watched them rise and dissipate before he spoke again.

  Turning to his friend, he said in a quiet and fateful tone, “The die is cast, Cairn. We can control some things, but others are meant to be, and however we may attempt to change them would be to no avail. No, Cairn, your knowledge of my heritage changes nothing! You know what is best, as do I. You have always known what was best for me from the very first moment we met. There is no altering what must be. You can only hope to guide the floes and influence them when possible. The fabric weaves of its own will. Haven’t you always said that?” he asked stern-faced.