The Twins (23 page)

Rarely had one disturbed her composure as totally as this errant young man did, and he was not even conscious! She too then left the room and made her way toward the library as quickly as she could, hoping to find some answers in the books therein while she waited for her husband to rejoin her.

Elsinestra gazed out of the polished windows, not looking at anything at all. During the past few hours her mind had been working at a furious pace, questioning, reasoning and attempting to comprehend what was happening. She was discomforted by the events of the day, but she was not disheartened. The fact that Elion, her beloved son, had returned and was safe within the castle brought her great joy. But, the presence of his strange companion seemed more compelling to her somehow and more portentous even than her own son’s dramatic reappearance.

She could not help but remember a poem that her mother used to recite to her at night when she had trouble sleeping as a child. It comforted her enormously and when she was young, she repeated it to herself whenever she was troubled. Strangely, the words rose before her mind’s eye now with new meaning.

This night may be long,

But with the dawn, hope will come anew…

The Prince of light will come one night,

And our lives will be renewed.

His shining eyes will guide us toward the wisdom evermore,

And on that day, he will lead the way

Outward from Seramour.

So go to sleep, my darling child,

Take comfort in your dreams…

When the time is right, he will lead the fight.

Fear the darkness nevermore!

“Fear the darkness nevermore!” she recited aloud, with heartening emotions stirring her very soul.

After Treestar had an opportunity to clean and dress the minor wounds he received during the earlier fray, he changed his soiled clothing and hurried toward the library, anxious to meet with Elsinestra and continue the conversation where they had left off previously. He too felt the overpowering presence of the young human, still now when he was not even in the same room.

He walked up the winding wooden stairway and opened the carved door at its end. The library was a stunning room, paneled with dark, rich woods and lined with both ancient books as well as new ones, providing them with a wealth of material to study, a virtual fount of knowledge, and with a vibrant source of entertainment for Elsinestra who was an avid reader.

“What was that you said, Elsinestra?” he asked as he entered the room, hearing only the last words.

She turned to her husband with a start, then smiled. “I was just recalling a children’s bedtime story my mother used to relate to me when I was troubled and could not sleep easily. It has taken on a more significant meaning for me just now,” the Queen said, teary-eyed. “I said, ‘fear the darkness nevermore,’“ she repeated.

She picked up the book that lay on the wide reading table, the same one that she had retrieved from the shelves a while ago. Large Elfin runes dominated the cover. The book was old and its pages were worn and parched. He watched as she carefully flipped through the ponderous volume, clearly looking for something in particular.

He loved his wife dearly and he never ceased to enjoy just watching her. She moved with the grace of a goddess, never hastily or clumsily. Her ability to discern the root of a problem, physical or mental, was what allowed her to apply her healing trade so fluidly. She was a remarkable woman and he was proud to be married to her.

Elsinestra raised her head from her task just long enough to merely peer at Treestar as he sat down beside her, before she returned her eyes to the tome.

“All of the signs point to Pardatha, not here. I would never have expected that the boy would have ended up with us. He is human!” she said, as if that were odd, without ever looking up from the book. She turned another page slowly and began reading to herself. “Here, it speaks of the heir,” she said, pointing to a worn page. “Could the boy be of the Gwendolen line? He certainly has the features. What twist of fate brought him to Seramour, so far north? Where did Elion find him?”

“Dearest, we must be patient. Our son will attend us shortly and then you will have your inquiries answered. What does the book say of the heir? Was that not just a legend, a mere fairy tale?” he inquired of her.

“The book I am looking at now is not a book for children, husband. You see what is happening all around us. We know the great trees are dying. We see the changes every day outside of the safety and shelter of Seramour. This book speaks of times like these, times of great change and sorrow, and it also speaks of hope. I was filled with hope when I touched that boy. The feeling coursed through my body. I was thoroughly energized… inspired! I even thought for a moment that I could smell the fragrance of Lalas. Tell me that you did not feel the same?” she asked.

Treestar’s large hand pulled upon his beard. “I admit that I was unsettled when I first encountered him, but that does not prove that he is the boy the Tomes speak of. He may just be blessed with unusual power. Or, our hopes may be inspiring our imaginations,” he said, feigning skepticism.

“You have always been a doubter, Treestar,” she teased affectionately, and continued her thought. “But my intuition is rarely wrong. I know he is very special. I know that he is here for a reason. For better or worse, we too are destined to participate in the great drama unfolding around us, Treestar. I have been unwilling up until now to accept that. His appearance has already changed things,” she continued, looking encouraged, but troubled nevertheless. “Surely my imagination did not cause me to radiate with power when I first encountered him.”

“If so, my dearest, if you are sure of what you say, then we must learn how to help him, how to awaken him from this strange slumber. We must learn why he is here,” he responded.

“I fear it is not sleep that he must awaken from, but powerful magic. We must first ascertain more about him if we wish to help and not cause him harm.”

Someone tapped discretely upon the library door and then entered without waiting for an invitation. Treestar smiled warmly as his son walked to their side.

“Mother, father, we must talk!” he said immediately, and then he sat in a large chair next to Elsinestra, looking refreshed but still bruised and weary.

“Ah, we certainly must. We have so much to talk about. Are you rested, son?” she asked, placing her hand atop his and gazing intently into his eyes. “You have been away for so long. I only wish we had the leisure to relax and to hear all about your time in Crispen with your uncle, Bristar. But we have pressing matters to attend to. You will forgive me, Elion, if I ask you to save the tales of your travels for another moment,” she said with a hint of regret. “There is only one aspect of your journey that we must hear about now,” she continued.

“He has already affected you too, I see. And I can assure you, mother, that small talk is not what I intended to conduct with the two of you at this time,” Elion said with affection. “The moment I laid my eyes upon him, I knew that things would never be the same for me again,” he said, hardly having to guess at the purpose of this meeting. “Where shall I begin?” he asked as he sat down next to his parents.

Elion related the entire story to Elsinestra and Treestar, who both listened intently to each word without interruption. When he finished at the point where his father rescued him from the attacking wolves, he looked at them both with wide open eyes, hoping that they would have more answers for him than questions. Instead, he was met with silence for quite some time, while they contemplated the situation.

His mother was the first to speak. “Why would anyone let a young, helpless boy wander off unaccompanied into the woods? I cannot understand that at all,” she said perplexed, her brow furrowed with thought.

“Perhaps they were unaware until later that he was gone,” Treestar replied.

“They seemed not to even know that he was there at all,” Elion said, his chin resting upon his slender hands.

“Yet you say they escorted him out of the gates, or so it seemed?” his mother asked.

“Yes, it looked to me as if they were aware of his presence as they neared the Noban gate, but as soon as they cleared the final portcullis, he may as well have been invisible,” Elion commented, clearly remembering what he saw. “He was bound, hand and foot when I found him. They were not friends of his!”

“If he was their prisoner, where were they taking him to and why? Do you have any idea who his captors were?” she inquired.

“They wore no distinguishing clothing that I could see. They carried no banners and no crests were emblazoned upon their clothing. I did not recognize any of them. The leader though was a young, dark-haired man and he seemed very casual, unconcerned verily. He was human and of noble birth or at least it appeared that way to me by virtue of his bearing and the retinue that accompanied him. He was also very flippant, almost arrogant in his demeanor. They obviously were not worried that the boy would escape. After all, he was not even conscious.”

“No one followed them out? No one cared that they were leaving?” Treestar asked.

“I do not think anyone was even watching them. There were no people on the ramparts bidding them farewell. The Ghost Tower of Pardatha was vacant of soldiers. No one escorted them out. They just rode through the gates and went on their merry way. It was all very strange. I remember thinking at the time that this ‘prisoner’ could not have been a very important one,” the young Elf related.

“Pardatha has never been a garrisoned city. People always passed freely in and out, but one would think that someone would have been there to bid such a group farewell,” Elsinestra reasoned.

A brief silence followed her last remark and then Treestar said, “Baladar must not have known that they were leaving! Maybe they spirited the boy out and no one in the city knew!”

“He was concealed by a saddle blanket when they first emerged from the keep,” Elion said, squinting his eyes and remembering the events clearly. “I did not know they had a prisoner in their midst until later when the horse stretched its neck down to eat some grass and the blanket slipped off. He wasn’t moving when they emerged from the city, so maybe no one knew they were leaving with human baggage,” Elion continued upon the path of his father’s thought. “That would explain why no one followed them out, either to bid them farewell or to regain the boy’s freedom. These soldiers must have kidnapped him and his absence had not yet been discovered when I arrived!” he said.

“They would have found out soon enough,” his mother remarked. “But, considering the state he was in when they carried him out, he could have been brought into the city under cover too. Maybe only a few knew he was even there. He is clearly not a Pardathan. His features are southern, probably from Gwendolen as I suspect, or some place else south of here, certainly south of the Thorndars. Possibly he was brought there by someone in order to be healed. Baladar, the sovereign of Pardatha, is known to be adept at the magical arts. Pardatha would have been a good choice.”

“Or for protection! Pardatha is also a strong city in a strong kingdom. Baladar is a powerful leader. Anyone could tell the boy is special. If I were weak, I would not trust myself with his welfare. I would seek out someone who could help him,” Elion commented.

“If what we surmise is so, then they will surely be searching for him by now,” Treestar said. “They must be overcome with grief and concern! The discovery of his absence will only lead to anger. We must let Baladar know that we have him and how he came to be here. He must not think that we were the ones to steal him from under his nose!”

“Yes,” Elsinestra said anxiously. “We must send word immediately. This boy is no ordinary human child. If I am correct, he will be sorely missed and it would be a great misfortune if we were to be blamed for the actions of another, particularly after the long history of cooperation that has existed between our two kingdoms. Acrimony now between the Pardathans and Lormarion would serve no one but the Dark Lord himself!” she asserted.

“You are absolutely correct, Elsinestra. I will see to it. Jerial will go. He is one of the best riders we have. Please, wife, compose a letter for him explaining how the boy ended up in our city. I will notify the stables to prepare a horse for him and provisions for the trip, and I will place it in the saddlebag myself. Elion, advise Jerial and organize an escort for him until he is past the plains. He must travel alone from then on. The message must reach Baladar as soon as possible and Jerial will ride as fast as the wind if left on his own.”

“I will go at once.” Upon reaching the door, he glanced back at his parents with a desperate look upon his face. “Please, mother, tell Baladar I meant the boy no harm. Make sure he knows that. If what we suspect is true, Baladar must be beside himself with concern by now. I pray he does not hold it against us.”

What have I done?
he thought to himself as he ran down the stairway.
I should be the one to carry the message to Baladar. It was I who brought the boy here to begin with. I must accept the blame by myself. If I do not appeal on my own behalf they are likely not to believe our intentions. They will think it a ruse, a subterfuge. It is my responsibility, not Jerial’s. I was the one who blundered here. I must make it right.

By the time the young Prince reached the barracks, he knew what he had to do. His parents would be angry with him at first, he considered, but they would come to understand why he had to go himself. He brought this boy into Lormarion, into Seramour itself, the heart of the Elfin kingdom, and he was responsible for whatever happened now. He could not allow another to apologize for his actions.

Elion instructed the guards as to what had to be done, neglecting to tell them that his father requested that Jerial be the messenger. He simply told them that they were to accompany him until they reached the forest. He told them to gather the group and to wait for him by the platforms.