Free The Twins by Gary Alan Wassner

was certain. The town of Pardeau had always been known as a haven for travelers!
    Some pale-skinned messenger boy from the south? Cairn repeated to himself. The southerners so rarely travel this far north. Cairn sensed trouble here, far more serious than the orders to merely detain all travelers indicated. And could it be that Calyx and I are the two they were referring to?
    Cairn decided that the most prudent course of action under the circumstances would be to sit tight exactly where he was for long enough until the men left the clearing, camp for the night in the area that they had already searched and vacated, and proceed just before dawn, bypassing the town, and head for the shelter of the forest north of Pardeau. He was inured to sleeping outdoors, and it was really of no consequence to him. Cairn’s only regret was that he would be unable to gather any more information from the townspeople on any of the most recent, disturbing events. But, his curiosity was not worth the risks he now perceived.
    When the remaining men had completed their cursory scouting and departed for the town, Cairn emerged from his hiding place among the tall grasses. He laid out his bedroll and sat cross-legged upon it. The sun was hanging low over the horizon, and there was perhaps twenty to thirty minutes of light left before it set completely and left him in total darkness.
    The stars will be bright tonight , he mused, as the sky was as clear as a bell.
    He would need no fire to give him comfort and his robes would keep him warm. He ate a few dried fruits from his satchel, relishing the intensity of their flavor, and he immediately enjoyed the feeling of rejuvenation that they offered him.
    Cairn’s thoughts kept drifting to the image of the ‘councilor’ who was surely up to no good.
    Where could he have come from, and who would have sent him? What purpose would he serve stirring up doubt and trouble so far north? Who could he be looking for in this part of the countryside? Surely no one could have known of my journey already , he thought, his brow furrowed.
    Cairn lay down on the pallet and drifted off into a fitful sleep, disturbed by the unexpected turn of events he had just witnessed, and anxious for the sun to rise so he could be on his way north and away from here.
    Cairn was woken abruptly when a bony hand, smelling strongly of ale was clasped over his mouth. A second hand grabbed both his arms and twisted them behind his back in such a manner that if he struggled he might just break them himself. He was lying upon his stomach, trussed like a spring chicken.
    “Look at what I’ve found here!” he heard his attacker say. “A funny lookin’ ‘un. May hap our friend will want to see this’n,” the hoarse voice said.
    Cairn turned his eyes sideways enough to recognize the face of the man who held him. Marto, the burly one arguing earlier with the others, spun him back and snapped his face forwards.
    “No you don’t. I do nay want those devil eyes lookin’ on me. Come, Gumley help me out here. Do nay hide yourself in the woods.”
    “I am nay hiding. I’ll do me job like the rest of ye. Here, let me bind him with this,” he said as he unwrapped a bundle of stout cord.
    “First cover the eyes of this stranger. I do nay like the looks of ‘im,” Marto ordered.
    As Gumley was tying a dirty rag around the head of his prisoner, Cairn heard a loud thud followed by the sounds of a scuffle and a sharp crack. There was much grunting and scraping, when at last he heard a voice say, “Yes, run you old bat. Show me the tail of the coward that you are, Gumley. And do nay try to come back again tonight and cause more trouble.”
    The voice belonged to the man called Trevor, one of the dissenters from earlier. Cairn was certain of that. As he was helped to his feet and his blindfold was removed he saw the other man, Marto, sprawled out on the ground with a nasty wound on the side of his forehead. A small amount of blood was oozing