The Twins (11 page)

Chapter Twelve

Reeling from sheer dizziness rather than pain, Baladar sought to right himself. From the instant he stepped through the portal, the sensations of vertigo would not go away. He was falling into emptiness, unable to distinguish up from down or left from right. In fact, he was not even sure if he was falling or rising. He felt as if he was moving, but he was not verily certain of that.

Where did Porta go?

He could not feel his steed underneath him. He looked out into forever, gazed behind him into eternity past and floated into the future yet unlived. A second? An hour? Perhaps a tiel? How much time passed seemed almost irrelevant, as Baladar began to succumb to the sensations. He could remain here perpetually, floating, falling, rising, rushing forward into magnificent emptiness and backwards into the fullness of the past.

All his cares disappeared, his problems faded and his troubles melted away. He forgot his name, who he was, where he was. His own consciousness, his sense of self, blended into the surroundings, making him one with the environment that he had entered. The boundaries that formerly separated him from other people, other objects, the air itself, were broken. Baladar was Baladar no more.

He opened his eyes, not knowing how long he had them closed, feeling as if he had awoken from a deep and relaxing sleep, and what he saw warmed his soul. He was upon an island, or so it seemed, for he heard water gently lapping onto a shoreline from what sounded like all directions. He thought he could see sunlight reflecting off of the liquid blueness in the distance, but he could not be certain of anything.

The colors around him were so vivid that he had to shield his eyes until they adjusted to the brilliance. His equilibrium was off, and he was uncertain if what he saw was real or not. He caught glimpses of many odd and beautiful animals scurrying around, never able to focus on any one, to ascertain if they were species he recognized or not, but he suspected that many were not. The ground was lush, covered in bright green moss, soft and comfortable. The foliage was abundant and varied.

As his eyes regained their focus, he saw trees with leaves of shiny silver, creating the most gorgeous music he had ever heard as they struck one another each time the wind gusted. The air smelled as sweet as honeyberries, fresh and wholesome. Birds of all shapes and sizes flew overhead and settled in the trees, singing sweetly, creating a crescendo of song keeping time with the wind and the leaves, rising in volume as the wind blew, and subsiding as it became calm again. He was afraid at first to take a step, expecting to fall over, unsure of whether or not he could control his limbs. Then suddenly Baladar became aware of a path, clearly defined, directly underfoot. It was made of a diaphanous material, one he had never seen before, swirling with color. He knew that he was supposed to follow it and he gladly began his journey to the residence of Calista, the Lady of the Island.

This world was so different from his own. As he walked, it seemed to create itself. He could see the path winding up ahead and he followed it. Yet he could never actually see around the immediate bend until he was almost on top of it. The landscape constantly changed, always beautiful but never the same.

Finally, he saw what appeared to be a great door, anchored by nothing, standing solitary and majestic. As he approached it, it opened and suddenly he could see not only inside, the hallways, balustrades and stairways coming into view, but also a building of incredible beauty appeared around the door, looming overhead, turrets with banners flying, pinnacles of crystal, gleaming in the sun. It must have been there all along, but as with everything else on this island, nothing was as it seemed at first sight.

Of one thing he was certain nevertheless; he was safe here, safer than anywhere else on earth, and with that certainty, he boldly crossed the threshold and entered the palace. Following the polished stone walkway, he glanced from side to side, amazed at the size of the edifice. It seemed to go on forever in all directions, but somehow he knew where he was going. Baladar reached the end of the hall and a wonderful smell wafted up once again, spice and rose and apple-melon and other odors he could not recognize.

The double gilt doors were shut, but as he touched them they gracefully swung back, revealing a huge chamber harboring a single throne of cut quartz set against the far wall, swathed in woven silks and covered with pillows embroidered in gold. Upon the throne sat Calista, in gossamer robes of violet, a single circlet of diamonds upon her delicate head. Her long, white-blonde hair framed her face and cascaded down her back. Large green eyes peered at him, radiating warmth and welcome.

Regally, she raised her left arm, beckoning Baladar to come forward. As he did so, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

“My Queen, you do me such honor by allowing me entry into your domain,” he said reverentially.

“The honor is mine, Lord Baladar. I welcomed you once before and I welcome you again. Arise and attend me. Need opens my doors to the good and kind.”

“I bring you news, my Lady. Long awaited news,” he said as he walked closer.

Before he even had an opportunity to speak she responded.

“So, he has arrived,” she rejoined without a question, satisfied. “It is the beginning, Baladar, the beginning. All that has come before is meaningless now. The clock starts anew.”

“I have brought the ring, my Queen, as ordained. Davmiran, the heir, will be its bearer,” he stated, reaching inside his tunic and withdrawing the gold band on the long, thin chain.

Slipping it over his head, he reached forward and handed it to her. As she clasped it in her hand and as he released it, he felt a wave of sadness overtake him. He staggered slightly.

“Have no fear, Baladar. All who hold the ring, no matter for how short the time, regret relinquishing it. It is a natural reaction to so powerful a relic.”

Calista clasped the ring in her hand, closed her graceful fingers around it, bowed her head and uttered the words,
“C’al, portmaera. Bi’al Davmiran. Sethapardormia, comte ta manta.”

The ring glowed brightly, streaks of light escaping through the cracks between the Queen’s fingers. She opened her hand and presented the ring once again to Baladar.

“Take this back to the boy and place it around his neck. He will awaken immediately upon its touch on his skin. Instruct him well, Baladar. Teach him all that you can. The Gem of Eternity awaits,” she said to Baladar and she rose to approach him.

“I will do all that I can, my Lady. I have summoned those whom I have chosen to aid in this quest. They are in route to my side as we speak. His lessons will begin as soon as they all arrive,” he told her.

“You must know, Baladar, that the Tomes of Caradon are unclear in parts. I have read the portions pertaining to the ring over and over countless times. In some places reference is made to a gold band and in others, a silver one. The pages are old and worn and hard to decipher, but I cannot tell for certain if the ring is one and the same, manifesting as gold at times and as silver at others.” After saying this, she looked intently at Baladar. “Have you ever seen it change? Has its appearance varied at all?”

“No, my Lady. As long as I have had it in my possession, it has remained a band of gold,” he replied.

“The elders were never in agreement on this matter. I, for one, believe that there may be two separate and distinct rings. I only wish that the ancient books were more definitive on this point. But, there is no doubt who the bearer must be. The Gwendolen heir, Davmiran as you call him, is the one who will lead the quest for the First. The prophecy would make more sense to me now if the ring were mutable and we could witness its changeable nature. But, alas, there is but one heir, so there can be only one ring for him to bear,” she said deep in thought.

A moment passed before she turned and looked at Baladar again, fixing him with her sharp eyes. “Make sure he learns well. His power will be great.”

“I have picked his aides with great care. They are all three noble and strong. Together, we will do what we must,” he said solemnly.

“Are they all three of human descent as well?” she questioned, a hint of concern coloring her voice as she leaned lightly upon the quartz throne.

“Yes, my Lady, they happen to be. I am not as familiar with comparable individuals of Elfin or Dwarven descent. And the other major races do not serve the same side as we do. Why do you ask? Have I chosen poorly?” he asked, troubled by the thought.

“No, I have no doubt that you have chosen well and with great care, Baladar. But, there will be a role for each race to play in the quest, as is written, and I surmised that perhaps that role would begin with the boy’s education. It is not foretold as such. But, all who serve the light must participate in the effort to protect, preserve and renew it. That much is ordained!” she spoke, and she closed her beautiful eyes momentarily.

When she opened them again, she caught and held Baladar’s gaze with her own and spoke with quiet strength. “The trees are dying, Baladar. I feel their pain daily. It takes a tremendous toll upon me. My powers are great too, but they are being spent in other areas now. The land suffers from each tree’s loss and I must compensate for that. I must strive to maintain the balance. Therefore, I cannot be of much assistance to the boy. I feel the Dark Lord’s presence growing stronger and stronger. As our shields weaken, his grow in power. His arms reach out and touch all that is clean, transforming it into that which is vile and dirty. He approaches. Eventually, he will find the boy, Baladar, and he will come to him. When that moment is upon us, you must be certain that he is prepared! Realize the gravity of these times. Our future rests upon his young shoulders… and yours!”

“I will do my best, my Queen.”

“Your best, Baladar, may not be enough!” she cautioned him and then she withdrew within herself momentarily.

Calista raised her majestic head once more, her expression distant and pensive.

“I once knew Colton, the sorcerer, very well. We had developed a close relationship, a trusting one at one point in time. He was always detached and suspicious but I was nearer to him than he was to any other. He appeared then to be good and noble, or so it seemed, in ages past when he dwelled among the life givers. But, he was plagued by dreams that relentlessly tormented him, and as time passed, they grew more frequent and unbearable for him and he had to isolate himself from the rest of us. He no longer sought my council, nor would he accept it when I approached him. He suffered mental pain that seemed to explode unexpectedly and uncontrollably, born of the negativity of his essence, manifesting itself in waves of power unleashed randomly, and all the time he refused aid of any kind,” she paused, her fragile head tilted to one side and her sparkling eyes staring at nothing, lost in a painful reverie.

“I did not fathom then just how beyond hope he was. His strength was mighty but flawed, and some of the others believed that such flaws were disgraceful. They had no compassion for his suffering and therefor precipitated his descent. I was the only one who had any sympathy for his anguish and he bitterly rejected me. His mind and mine worked in such different ways that neither of us could possibly hope to understand the other, though I tried. It pained me deeply to witness the continual deterioration of one so strong, and it frightened me as well.”

Calista walked before the quartz throne, gracefully sat upon it, and her skin immediately took on the colors and appearance of the translucent rock.

“I was not fool enough to be naive about just how formidable an opponent he would become. The others were more arrogant. Colton’s fall was fast and furious, as he lost control more and more often, until he was no longer welcome, until he could no longer dwell amongst us, as he not only was endangering himself, but others as well. He refused help of any kind from me and no others offered theirs.”

Baladar remained standing before her, fixed in his place as if frozen to the very ground upon which he stood. It was obvious to him that her feelings for Colton were at one time mixed, and it surprised him profoundly. He had always and only thought of him as the epitome of evil and he could barely conceive of him any other way. The Lady stared at him, a knowing smile upon her face, as if she had read his thoughts.

“He and I were close at one time, yes, and therefore I was the bearer of the news that he would have to leave, that he could no longer abide in our realms. This enhanced his bitterness, but he was able to cushion his plunge before his ruination somehow, finding refuge among the twisted and the outcast, feeding ravenously upon their negative energy. He never forgave us and his hate for our world is beyond measure. And his enmity for me is just as extreme, if perhaps a bit more personal,” she related, a sad and ironic expression marring her beauty.

“He has spent tiels feeding off of those he has come to rule, and his power has grown and grown. Even I cannot stand against him alone, unaided by the trees who never accepted Colton from the beginning of time, sensing before we could, his fatal imperfections. And they, alas, are weakening each day now, departing one by one, relinquishing us amidst their extraordinary despair. My time too is running short. I feel the fabric wearing thin. Beware that you do not take too long to prepare the boy,” she said, piercing him with the intensity of her gaze.

“I will begin as soon as possible, as soon as I return and awaken him, my Lady,” Baladar answered.

“Express no sadness for the child, Baladar. His slumber is not peaceful! There can be no peace whilst the trees and the land suffer so. It is but a waste of precious time, and if he is not awakened soon then the weave will be beyond even his ability to mend it. There is no room for regret here. He did not choose his destiny, but it remains his nonetheless! His full strength will be required. He cannot be led astray by self-pity or doubt,” she rebuked him in warning, her cheeks flaring crimson.

Baladar’s chest rose. “I shall not, my Queen. I vow that I will train him well. He will be prepared properly and he will lead us forth into a new age. He will fulfill all that is prophesied for him, of that I am certain.”