Chapter 3
Belgarath the Sorcerer, known throughout the world as the Ancient One, First Disciple of Aldur, the Ancient and Beloved, and the Eternal Man, was faced with a dilemma. His daughter, Polgara, the Duchess of Erat, and just as eternal as he, had left with her husband, Durnik, to visit the newly established city of Mar Amon, the capital of Maragor, which was dead no longer. Relg's first son had become the new Gorim of Ulgo, and Polgara and Durnik went to visit them and congratulate Taiba on her youngest child's birth.
And that, of course, left him with the twins.
"Grandfather! Grandfather!" Belgarik ducked around his chair. "She's going to get me!"
Belgarath scowled at the little boy, who was, after several eons, finally his real grandson. "So? Get her back."
Poldara squealed as her twin lunged at her, his little fingers tickling her ribs. "No, Belgarik! Grandfather!"
Belgarath let out a sigh as Belgarik started to chase Poldara around the chair. There was a woosh at the window, and the curtains blew inwards as a snowy owl dropped through the opening. Belgarath sighed again, this time in relief, as the owl abruptly vanished and a tawny-haired woman took its place.
"Will you get these two out of my hair?" he asked Poledra. "I'm just on the verge of discovering the reason for rivers, and they're distracting me."
"One observes you do not really mind." Poledra's golden eyes twinkled.
"They're distracting me all the same," growled the Eternal Man. "Go take them somewhere... like down to their home or something. The river. I don't know. Just get them out of my hair."
"Grandfather, you don't like us!" Belgarik said, his eyes wide. Poldara's lip trembled.
Belgarath threw up his hands in despair.
When Hettar, known as the Horse Lord in the days before when the battle between Prophecies governed the rules of the world, rode up, his scalp-lock blowing in the wind of the Algarian planes, and his normally stern, hawk-like face breaking into a smile, Adara was startled. The beautiful Algar cousin of Garion looked from him to their twelve-year-old daughter, Relara, on the gelding beside him. Hettar slid off his own black mare and strode over to Adara, catching her up and swinging her around, laughing delightedly.
Adara asked, still surprised, as well as breathless, "Hettar?"
He pointed to Relara, their daughter, wordlessly.
Relara seriously slid off her gelding, then looked into its eyes. It trotted over to Hettar deliberately, nudged him, then came back to the dark-haired Algar girl. She patted it, then it cantered off in the direction of the herd.
Adara's eyes widened. "Relara?" she asked.
Relara smiled slightly, the same small smile of her mother, making her ivory skin glow.
"Oh, Relara!" she embraced her oldest daughter, as Hettar grinned at them.
"My father will be pleased," he said, still grinning. "Two Sha-darim in the family."
Their excitement was broken by the thunder of hooves as another Algar, with wild brown hair tied in his own scalp-lock, galloped up beside them, reigning in sharply. He was panting heavily, and his horse was lathered. Adara and Hettar stared at the messenger.
"This message needs to go to Ancient Belgarath immediately," gasped the Algar, handing the rolled parchment to Hettar. "It's from Urgit of Cthol Murgos."
"Urgit?" Hettar asked curiously as he swung onto his horse. He remembered the small, weasel-faced king, and his dry wit. Wondering why Urgit would have a message for Belgarath, he told his horse silently to go, and the two galloped off toward the Vale of Aldur, Hettar raising a hand in farewell to Relara and Adara as he dwindled to a small speck in the distance.
Belgarath settled down into his chair. Finally those twins were gone, down to the river with Poledra. After three days of watching them, now he could concentrate on his research. Just as the thought passed through his mind, there was the faint sound of hooves through the window, and Hettar's voice shouted up, "Belgarath! It's a message from Urgit!"
Grumbling slightly, the Eternal Man stumped down his stairs. "Open," he growled crossly at the stone in front of his door, and as it rolled gratingly away, walked out. "All right, Hettar."
"I think it's urgent." The Algar's dark eyes were grave.
Belgarath raised one eyebrow, taking the parchment. He split the seal and opened it, reading it quickly. Hettar waited.
Belgarath frowned. "Urgit got word from Zakath. The Karands are uprising." He swore. "Why now, of all times?"
"The Karands?" asked Hettar. "The ones who worship demons?"
"Yes. It seems they've allied with their cousins, the Morindim. They want their nation back." He took a deep breath. "They're marching with a host of demons on the Mallorean capital."
Corrections, etc.? Thanks for reviewing! It takes a while to get to the suspenseful part. I just wanted to see all our friends first. Maybe next chapter. Hmmm. Yes. Do I have the style?