The Twins (8 page)

“Ah, of course,” Baladar nodded. “He has chosen well, Kettin, that is for sure! I know of no other who would serve in your lord’s stead better than you. Let us plan a moment to sit and discuss these untoward ‘developments’, Kettin. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

“Yes, we must. We need also speak of trade once more. It seems our merchants are rather disgruntled by the prices they are recently receiving for their polong oil. You know that it is the finest in all the lands.”

“It is the only polong oil in all the lands, my dear sir.”

Baladar tried very hard to conceal the sarcasm in his voice, although he did not really believe that Kettin was aware enough to sense his distaste anyway. He saw his opportunity to sneak away and he jumped upon it.

“As you surely need time to settle in, and as we can expect an extended stay, let us both retire until the new sun. You can bathe and freshen up, while I attend to some matters of state that seem always to press upon us. We will have ample time tomorrow to discuss these issues and do some much needed catching up on old times. By the way, how is your charming mother, the Duchess? I so enjoy her robust sense of humor.”

He turned to his aide without giving Kettin any further opportunity to speak.

“Cristian, show Lord Kettin to the north suites and see that everything necessary is done to guarantee his comfort while he is with us. Also, arrange for his cortege as well. The barracks are more than comfortable in our domains and they are far enough away from the din of the city to allow the guards their well-deserved rest. Stable the horses and see that both humans and animals are well fed. Make haste. My noble friend has ridden long and hard, and we have been remiss in our hospitality by obliging him to stand here for so long.”

“Yes my Lord, at once,” Cristian responded and leapt to the task.

A good man, that Cristian is. He will understand my meaning
, Baladar thought.
The farther away from the castle that he leads these armed guards, the better.

Kettin bowed to Baladar then turned and followed the aide, as Baladar seized upon the moment and headed out the archway toward the stables.

Baladar drew his cloak closely around his shoulders, concealing his attire as much as possible. The last thing that he wanted now was someone to notice his brocade glinting in the moonlight. He needed to travel undetected and unimpeded, and he wished nothing more than to slip quietly into the darkness and be off. Baladar entered the stables through one of the stableboy’s back doors, slipping by the reposing guards at the front entrance. He made a mental note to chastise the guards for being so lax, though he was thankful for it now. Greater vigilance would have to be the rule in the days ahead.

He quietly saddled his stallion Porta, and without bit and bridle, coaxed him out the side doors. Upon clearing the corrals, he headed toward the castle gates. Once outside the castle grounds, he leapt upon Porta’s back, headed for the Noban gate, and then north in the direction of lake Everclear. The night air was crisp and fragrant and the wind blew steadily but calmly across his brow. Porta was excited at having been aroused at this uncommonly late hour, and without the benefit of reins, Baladar exerted quite some strength in directing him properly. He was a good and noble horse, and although instinct led him to press onward unguided, loyalty and training kept him on the path that was expected of him.

Through the woods surrounding the city they cantered, weaving in and out amongst the low slung branches, avoiding being unseated by a hair’s breadth many times. As they neared the lake, the trees grew denser and the underbrush thickened, slowing their pace considerably. The moon shone through the canopy of brush brightly enough to illuminate their destination. It reflected off of the waters of the lake as if the liquid was a mirror in the sunlight. Yet, the path to it was not clear, and the closer Baladar seemed to get to his goal, the farther he realized he was. This was not unexpected and he ignored the appearance of distance, knowing that the illusion would pass. The lake was protecting itself from intruders, and although he was considered to be a friend, he was not of the same making and he would have to struggle with this confusion if he was to arrive at all.

After coaxing Porta through a particularly odious tangle of brambles, a clear pathway opened up before him, beckoning with the scent and appearance of comfort and warmth. He knew at that point that he had been admitted and that the test would only now be beginning. Baladar summoned what strength he could from deep within himself, preparing his mind for the onslaught that he knew would soon overwhelm it.

As the path narrowed, a portal appeared glimmering in the near distance. He headed straight for it, slipping slowly off the saddle. Porta shied away from the light only slightly, and proceeded to drop his head and search calmly for some moist grass to chew. Baladar knew that he would remain there until his return. He walked up to the shimmering area of ambient emptiness, drew a deep breath, and proceeded to step inside.

Chapter Eight

Cairn and Trevor walked side by side, with Calyx trailing cautiously a few feet behind. The walk to his humble home was short and refreshing. Trevor was certainly a good man. Cairn could tell, and there was no question he could trust this woodsman. As they approached the thatched roofed cabin, an aura of warmth and safety enveloped him. A startlingly attractive, middle-aged woman, dressed in deerskin and linen, eyes as bright as the midday sun, bolted out of the doorway and to the side of Cairn’s new found companion. The sight of Calyx lurking in the distance did not seem to disturb her.

She eyed Cairn with friendliness and openness, uncommon among strangers these days, and pushed her jet black hair back. He spotted a bright yellow stone glimmering from each lobe of her delicately carved ears, as if they were speaking to him, welcoming him. Cairn immediately liked this woman. In fact he felt strangely comfortable in the company of them both, even having been unaccustomed to communing with humans. Her smile was warm and welcoming and there was not a hint of hesitation in it.

The house was modest but homey, the walls hung with tapestries, and the floor was covered with a woven rug of dyed reeds. The furniture was heavy and well made, clearly carved by an artisan of no little talent, probably Trevor himself, if Cairn suspected correctly.

“I bring to thee a guest to share our food and grog, my dearest,” Trevor exclaimed proudly, as he introduced Cairn to his wife Safira.

“Come in, stranger, and make yourself at home. Trevor, fetch a chair for the gentleman,” she replied so casually and honestly that Cairn relaxed immediately.

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 of 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.