Coro laughed as his parents wandered off into their room after breakfast.
Durain glared at his identical brother and left the cottage.
As the eldest of them both, Durain didn't bother being too nice as Coro, and was silent,
more conservative. He was a serious child. And now, as a teen, he was still serious, but
his attitude towards things had grown darker.
Coro, on the other hand, was the lighter one.
He was all to loose about situations, more easy-going. And he stuck with one thing, and
most of the time, did as he was told to do.
Durain was just opening the new white fence's latch when Coro burst inside.
Feeling his twin preparing to use his Will, Durain spun around and pointed a strict finger
at him, "Stop it Coro! If you use sorcery for no reason, Grandfather wont call you
Belcoro. Okay?"
"And if you run away, it doesn't mean he'll call YOU Beldurain."
"Shut up." Durain said in disgust, "I'm not running away. I'm going for a walk."
"A walk." Coro mocked.
Shoving the gate door open, Durain stormed out.
Coro ran after him.
"Is it what I said while we were eating?"
"No." Durain replied.
Through the bond of being twins that they shared, Durain felt Coro's guilt and sadness.
Coro, then, changed the topic as they climbed a hill that put the cottage out of sight on the
other side, "Do you really think mother's going to take us to Riva?"
"I don't think so." Durain replied. "She's been saying that we'll be going for at least two years."
"Can you believe it that Garion's our distant cousin? I can't!"
Durain glanced at Coro and smiled.
"When I become a sorcerer, having achieved all my abilities, I will marry a beautiful
woman, like Ce'Nedra, and i will have a mighty sword and glory." Durain said,
dreamingly.
Coro chuckled, "Yeah. Garion surly has a great life, may a evil eye never set upon him
and his family." He prayed.
Then, Durain laughed. "What 'evil eye'? There is none! Torak and Zandramas are dead,
Coro, and with them died 'evil'."
"You never know."
"Know what?"
Coro looked gravely at his twin, "If they ever come back."
Frowning, Durain listened to what had happened to Coro and Polgara in the kitchen when
he and Durnik had gone to clean up for breakfast. "Then, mother said that she had done
it, and was like, 'did you like it?'--- but Durain, you should have seen her face! She was
all pale, even her lips were pale!"
"The voice said 'Beware'?" Durain asked, ready to laugh.
"I'm serious!" Coro punched his twin on the arm, "Mother: Polgara the SORCERESS,
was SCARED. Do you get it now Durain. I'm not joking."
Pretending the punch hadn't hurt, Durain sighed.
"But don't tell anyone I told you okay?" Coro said. In response, Durain nodded.
This time, Durain changed the subject. "Can you imagine if one of us-- or both of us-
didn't have the talent? We wouldn't be sorcerer's and we would have died of old age in
front of Mother and Father?"
Coro sighed--- not this topic AGAIN!
Coro then argued, "I actually hate being immortal Durain." He admitted.
"What?" Durain cried.
"See, we're immortal, then what if we 'fall in love' to a mortal maiden? She would die, but
we would not. Remember the stories Mother and Grandmother told us?"
"Yes."
"The stories where everyone thought that Grandmother had died after---"
"Yes--yes, Coro. I know that story." Durain cut in.
"Good." Coro retorted, "Just wondering if your brains were workin'!"
Durain laughed.
"What?"
"Workin?" Mocked Durain, "You're talking like Uncle Beldin!"
"Yeah. In the stories Grandfather's told us. Beldin's probably not even real." Coro
scuffed, "Vanishing with a girl--- Velvet?--- and never seen or heard from again."
"Do you want to run off with some girl, Coro?" Durain teased.
Rolling his eyes, Coro said, "Whatever! Anyways, I was saying that if we marry a mortal
woman, and she dies of old age, we will be sad, and lonely, FOREVER." Sarcastically,
he added, "Then you can dance alone in all that 'glory' you always wish for."
Durain ignored his brother.
"Can you believe that Ce'Nedra will die of old age and Garion will live forever?"
Coro glared at Durain, "Shut up. All you ever talk about, other then what you want, is
DEATH."
"We all have to die sometime, Coro. How will we die if we're immortal?" Durain pressed.
"Shut up." Coro rudely commented.
But Durain continued.
Finally, not able to take it in any longer, Coro slapped the back of Durain's head.
"You idiot!" Durain cried when he bit his lip.
Spinning around, he toppled over his twin with his shoulder.
They wrestled in the high green grass, punching and groaning. It was half- serious, but for
the other half, they were having fun. And practice.
Both brothers wanted the same.
Coro just hid it and Durain openly said what he wanted.
Often, they fought, and called it practice.
"Practice?" their mother would cry when they'd return bruised and bleeding.
"Yes." they would reply innocently, "we want to, and will become great sorcerer's and
great sword masters."
Durnik would just laugh.
But the last time they had met their distant cousin, Garion had said that he would teach
them how to use a sword. Ever since then, they hadn't seen Garion. And Polgara refused
to let them go with Belgarath when he had gone to Riva, just last year, and hadn't
returned yet.
Durain, his lower lip cut open and bleeding, blood dripping off his chin, lay flat of the
ground. Coro, his right knee holding his twins legs down, and his left knee pressed on
Durain's chest, breathed heavily, as he repeatedly smashed his bleeding knuckles against
Durain's left, purple-bruised cheek.
Coro's face was all red and blue-purple. He had gotten a black eye, and his nose bled a
lot.
"ENOUGH!" Durain managed to choke out.
Without a word, Coro punched his brother one last time and rolled off onto the ground.
They just lay there.
Breathing hard.
Feeling the blood rush to their heads as their wounds began to burn like fire.
Durain rolled onto his side and spit out blood.
Coro, laughing, sat up.
"Mother's going to kill us." Durain said.
"We can try to heal it with sorcery." Coro said.
Durain scuffed, "But we haven't been taught that yet. If we try something, we might do
something wrong and make it worse."
Coro wiped a river of tears that flowed out of his eyes.
Durain caught his and didn't dare to laugh because of his still-bleeding mouth. "Does it
hurt?" He asked.
Coro cupped his face in his hands and nodded, the pain in his eyes.
"Lets go." Durain said.
Standing up, Durain spit out more blood, and helped Coro up.
At the same time, they looked up to see a cloaked figure approaching them.
As if they were mirrors, Durain and Coro lifted their right hand and shielded the sun from
their eyes as they watched. And at the same time, they glanced at each other, with raised
eyebrows.
The approaching figure came close and tossed the hood off that sat and shadowed the
persons face.
Coro gasped.
Durain whispered, "Who is that?"
Durain glared at his identical brother and left the cottage.
As the eldest of them both, Durain didn't bother being too nice as Coro, and was silent,
more conservative. He was a serious child. And now, as a teen, he was still serious, but
his attitude towards things had grown darker.
Coro, on the other hand, was the lighter one.
He was all to loose about situations, more easy-going. And he stuck with one thing, and
most of the time, did as he was told to do.
Durain was just opening the new white fence's latch when Coro burst inside.
Feeling his twin preparing to use his Will, Durain spun around and pointed a strict finger
at him, "Stop it Coro! If you use sorcery for no reason, Grandfather wont call you
Belcoro. Okay?"
"And if you run away, it doesn't mean he'll call YOU Beldurain."
"Shut up." Durain said in disgust, "I'm not running away. I'm going for a walk."
"A walk." Coro mocked.
Shoving the gate door open, Durain stormed out.
Coro ran after him.
"Is it what I said while we were eating?"
"No." Durain replied.
Through the bond of being twins that they shared, Durain felt Coro's guilt and sadness.
Coro, then, changed the topic as they climbed a hill that put the cottage out of sight on the
other side, "Do you really think mother's going to take us to Riva?"
"I don't think so." Durain replied. "She's been saying that we'll be going for at least two years."
"Can you believe it that Garion's our distant cousin? I can't!"
Durain glanced at Coro and smiled.
"When I become a sorcerer, having achieved all my abilities, I will marry a beautiful
woman, like Ce'Nedra, and i will have a mighty sword and glory." Durain said,
dreamingly.
Coro chuckled, "Yeah. Garion surly has a great life, may a evil eye never set upon him
and his family." He prayed.
Then, Durain laughed. "What 'evil eye'? There is none! Torak and Zandramas are dead,
Coro, and with them died 'evil'."
"You never know."
"Know what?"
Coro looked gravely at his twin, "If they ever come back."
Frowning, Durain listened to what had happened to Coro and Polgara in the kitchen when
he and Durnik had gone to clean up for breakfast. "Then, mother said that she had done
it, and was like, 'did you like it?'--- but Durain, you should have seen her face! She was
all pale, even her lips were pale!"
"The voice said 'Beware'?" Durain asked, ready to laugh.
"I'm serious!" Coro punched his twin on the arm, "Mother: Polgara the SORCERESS,
was SCARED. Do you get it now Durain. I'm not joking."
Pretending the punch hadn't hurt, Durain sighed.
"But don't tell anyone I told you okay?" Coro said. In response, Durain nodded.
This time, Durain changed the subject. "Can you imagine if one of us-- or both of us-
didn't have the talent? We wouldn't be sorcerer's and we would have died of old age in
front of Mother and Father?"
Coro sighed--- not this topic AGAIN!
Coro then argued, "I actually hate being immortal Durain." He admitted.
"What?" Durain cried.
"See, we're immortal, then what if we 'fall in love' to a mortal maiden? She would die, but
we would not. Remember the stories Mother and Grandmother told us?"
"Yes."
"The stories where everyone thought that Grandmother had died after---"
"Yes--yes, Coro. I know that story." Durain cut in.
"Good." Coro retorted, "Just wondering if your brains were workin'!"
Durain laughed.
"What?"
"Workin?" Mocked Durain, "You're talking like Uncle Beldin!"
"Yeah. In the stories Grandfather's told us. Beldin's probably not even real." Coro
scuffed, "Vanishing with a girl--- Velvet?--- and never seen or heard from again."
"Do you want to run off with some girl, Coro?" Durain teased.
Rolling his eyes, Coro said, "Whatever! Anyways, I was saying that if we marry a mortal
woman, and she dies of old age, we will be sad, and lonely, FOREVER." Sarcastically,
he added, "Then you can dance alone in all that 'glory' you always wish for."
Durain ignored his brother.
"Can you believe that Ce'Nedra will die of old age and Garion will live forever?"
Coro glared at Durain, "Shut up. All you ever talk about, other then what you want, is
DEATH."
"We all have to die sometime, Coro. How will we die if we're immortal?" Durain pressed.
"Shut up." Coro rudely commented.
But Durain continued.
Finally, not able to take it in any longer, Coro slapped the back of Durain's head.
"You idiot!" Durain cried when he bit his lip.
Spinning around, he toppled over his twin with his shoulder.
They wrestled in the high green grass, punching and groaning. It was half- serious, but for
the other half, they were having fun. And practice.
Both brothers wanted the same.
Coro just hid it and Durain openly said what he wanted.
Often, they fought, and called it practice.
"Practice?" their mother would cry when they'd return bruised and bleeding.
"Yes." they would reply innocently, "we want to, and will become great sorcerer's and
great sword masters."
Durnik would just laugh.
But the last time they had met their distant cousin, Garion had said that he would teach
them how to use a sword. Ever since then, they hadn't seen Garion. And Polgara refused
to let them go with Belgarath when he had gone to Riva, just last year, and hadn't
returned yet.
Durain, his lower lip cut open and bleeding, blood dripping off his chin, lay flat of the
ground. Coro, his right knee holding his twins legs down, and his left knee pressed on
Durain's chest, breathed heavily, as he repeatedly smashed his bleeding knuckles against
Durain's left, purple-bruised cheek.
Coro's face was all red and blue-purple. He had gotten a black eye, and his nose bled a
lot.
"ENOUGH!" Durain managed to choke out.
Without a word, Coro punched his brother one last time and rolled off onto the ground.
They just lay there.
Breathing hard.
Feeling the blood rush to their heads as their wounds began to burn like fire.
Durain rolled onto his side and spit out blood.
Coro, laughing, sat up.
"Mother's going to kill us." Durain said.
"We can try to heal it with sorcery." Coro said.
Durain scuffed, "But we haven't been taught that yet. If we try something, we might do
something wrong and make it worse."
Coro wiped a river of tears that flowed out of his eyes.
Durain caught his and didn't dare to laugh because of his still-bleeding mouth. "Does it
hurt?" He asked.
Coro cupped his face in his hands and nodded, the pain in his eyes.
"Lets go." Durain said.
Standing up, Durain spit out more blood, and helped Coro up.
At the same time, they looked up to see a cloaked figure approaching them.
As if they were mirrors, Durain and Coro lifted their right hand and shielded the sun from
their eyes as they watched. And at the same time, they glanced at each other, with raised
eyebrows.
The approaching figure came close and tossed the hood off that sat and shadowed the
persons face.
Coro gasped.
Durain whispered, "Who is that?"
