It was a month later.
Durain was married, and all was well.
Until the dreams came.
In his dreams, he saw himself, standing on the shore of some sandy beach, and there
would be a puddle of water before him, and as he watched, the water became an ocean,
then the surface would ripple rapidly. As he stood watching, in wonder, the surface
rippled until someone began to emerge out of the water. A head, baring long black-red
hair came out, face down, with a crown of black marble upon the head. Then the body
came, wearing dark green robes. Dripping with water, the figure hovered over the water,
the bare toes pointed towards the water underneath. Then all of a sudden, he would see
the woman's skin begin to glow, like little glowing sparkles were under her skin.
With a flash, the woman looked up with big dark eyes of death. And she would open her
full lips, and darkness came out, past her white teeth, and like smoke, the darkness
wisped towards him.
The darkness called to him.
It wanted him.
And the owner of the darkness needed him.
He would wake up in sweat, and trembling.
Durain already knew who that was, he knew her from the stories he heard growing up. It
was Zandramas. And he was frightened to realize that the darkness came for him, and he
wanted it to come, but something made him change his mind, just before the dark
shadows touched him, and he would awaken.
These dreams had begun to come the day he married Almas.
He lay alone in his bed, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.
Almas was gone to her mother's house for a week, since her mother was gravely ill.
Getting out of bed, he went to his the washroom and washed his face. Then looked up
into the mirror, but instead, he saw Polgara, his mother. She stood watching him, and her
face was full of fury, and the white lock of her hair glowed brightly.
"Durain," She said in a hollow voice, "I've disowned you. You shall never return to the
Vale, or you will die by MY hands! Coro told me all of it! You tried to kill him in his
sleep, Durain? How could you? Then you ran away! You coward!" Then, in a menacing
voice, the sorceress said, "You surely are the Cursed one. Die, and rot in hell Durain!"
Then, she vanished when he blinked in surprise.
"Uh," He said uncertainly, as he rubbed the back of his neck.
Then his eyes fell on the dragon amulet Belgarath had given him.
A voice in his head then murmured, "Take it off Durain," The voice was cold, but so
familiar, "They've disowned you. Take it off, my boy. If you do, I'll give you the love of
a father," Then, a female voice murmured, "And I'll be your mother."
He held the amulet in his fist, wide eyed.
"Take if off Durain.... take the amulet off."
Shaking his head, he ignored the voices and went back to bed, thinking, and worrying
over what had just happened. He jumped out of a dreamless sleep, when his bedroom
door slammed open.
Opening his eyes, he saw Almas.
"Al, your home? How's your mother?" He asked, his words slurred by sleep.
She said nothing, but approached him, and smiled down at him.
He noticed her eyes looked haunted, and vacant, and as she reached down and took off
his amulet, she said, "Go to sleep Durain. Now, everything will happen, just as planned."
But it wasn't Almas' voice that spoke; it was the voice that had spoken to him in his mind.
But before he could snatch his amulet back, a heaviness overcame him, and he drifted off
to sleep.
************************************************************************
He ran, again.
This time, he knew where he was running.
He was running home.
To the Vale, where he belonged.
But he was being chased, and hunted down by something unknown.
Fear closed down on him. The kind of fear where ones insides became ice, and blood
pumped like a wild river in the veins, and air battled its way to the lungs through the
tightly clenched throat and chest.
In his mind, he called out for help.
He called out for his loved ones.
"Mother!" He cried, afraid something might hear him as he hid behind bushes in some
forest he had come across. "Help me." Tears of terror burned his eyes, and trying to calm
down, he called for his twin, his father, his grandfather, and his cousin in Riva, but none
could find him so soon-- even if they'd heard his cry.
"Durain?" Came a voice.
"Almas?" He thought. It was her voice after all. "I'm over here!" He called.
Silence.
Then he saw Almas, a nervous smile on her face and right next to her was the woman
who haunted his dreams.
Zandramas.
The sorceress stopped, and immediately, Almas fell to her knees before the woman, head
bowed. "I have done all you have asked of me." Almas said, "What will be my reward?"
Zandramas sneered, "You're not done Veena," She said to Almas, "Go to the Vale, and
cry to Polgara that her son is dead." She said all this, looking in Durain's eyes. "Now go."
At her last words, Almas vanished like smoke.
"Veena?" Durain asked, "Where-- how'd she do that! She's no sorcerer!"
Zandramas threw her head back and laughed, her glowing skin going brighter. "Almas's
true name is Veena, fool. And this is your dream-- anything can happen in dreams."
"Anything?" Durain said, standing up, with a challenge in his voice.
Zandramas' eyebrow lifted, "No for you, Beldurain. Your amulet is here. You cannot do
anything."
She lifted a hand to reveal his dragon amulet on her palm.
"What do you want from me?" He yelled.
The betrayal of Almas pained him, and the anger of it was in his eyes.
At that, the dead sorceress opened her mouth, and the shadows leaped out towards him.
He tried to back away, but the tree he had hid against blocked his way, "It's only a
dream!" He cried to himself as the smoky shadows caught his wrists, ankles and waist.
But he cried in pain as the shadows burned him.
The shadows yanked at him and pulled him away from the tree.
He screamed as loud as he could as he felt as though he were being ripped apart in half.
He struggled towards the tree, and there, he saw himself.
His corpse.
His body lay in the grass, eyes closed. The face was calm, and fresh, and in peace.
"No!" He whispered, then struggled wildly towards his body, "It's only a dream!" He
roared.
"Only a dream?" Murmured Zandramas, "No," She smiled, "It is a new reality."
************************************************************************
Belgarath hurried past the house of Almas's mother's, and ran so fast, he gasped for air.
He felt someone using his or her will, and it made a lot of noise.
It had to be Durain.
Then, he saw a burning house, from where the surge of will was being used.
A crowd of people blocked his way, and in a hurry, he yelled, "Away!" and used his Will.
People flew out of his way as he tried to get into the wildly burning house. But it was
impossible.
Again, he used his Will to stop the fire, and hurried into the house. The smoke blinded
the old sorcerer, and he stumbled around. Whoever had been using their will had stopped.
"Durain!" He called.
No answer.
He called out to his daughter's son, but no one answered.
Then he burst into a bedroom.
It was Durain's bedroom.
And saw only charred wood, bed, and cloths. But in the corner of the room, he saw his
grandson.
Durain was laying on the floor, untouched by the fire that had ruined his home.
Belgarath touched the young man's face, shook him to awaken him, but he lay cold (in
spit of the fire's heat) calm, and at peace. He was dead.
Belgarath's breath caught, and he looked away, only to see his gift (the dragon amulet) on
the floor next to the bed, as though someone had tossed it there right when the fire had
stopped.
"No," Belgarath said through clenched teeth, "You can't be dead!"
He looked at Durain in anguish, and said, "How could this be?"
Durain was married, and all was well.
Until the dreams came.
In his dreams, he saw himself, standing on the shore of some sandy beach, and there
would be a puddle of water before him, and as he watched, the water became an ocean,
then the surface would ripple rapidly. As he stood watching, in wonder, the surface
rippled until someone began to emerge out of the water. A head, baring long black-red
hair came out, face down, with a crown of black marble upon the head. Then the body
came, wearing dark green robes. Dripping with water, the figure hovered over the water,
the bare toes pointed towards the water underneath. Then all of a sudden, he would see
the woman's skin begin to glow, like little glowing sparkles were under her skin.
With a flash, the woman looked up with big dark eyes of death. And she would open her
full lips, and darkness came out, past her white teeth, and like smoke, the darkness
wisped towards him.
The darkness called to him.
It wanted him.
And the owner of the darkness needed him.
He would wake up in sweat, and trembling.
Durain already knew who that was, he knew her from the stories he heard growing up. It
was Zandramas. And he was frightened to realize that the darkness came for him, and he
wanted it to come, but something made him change his mind, just before the dark
shadows touched him, and he would awaken.
These dreams had begun to come the day he married Almas.
He lay alone in his bed, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.
Almas was gone to her mother's house for a week, since her mother was gravely ill.
Getting out of bed, he went to his the washroom and washed his face. Then looked up
into the mirror, but instead, he saw Polgara, his mother. She stood watching him, and her
face was full of fury, and the white lock of her hair glowed brightly.
"Durain," She said in a hollow voice, "I've disowned you. You shall never return to the
Vale, or you will die by MY hands! Coro told me all of it! You tried to kill him in his
sleep, Durain? How could you? Then you ran away! You coward!" Then, in a menacing
voice, the sorceress said, "You surely are the Cursed one. Die, and rot in hell Durain!"
Then, she vanished when he blinked in surprise.
"Uh," He said uncertainly, as he rubbed the back of his neck.
Then his eyes fell on the dragon amulet Belgarath had given him.
A voice in his head then murmured, "Take it off Durain," The voice was cold, but so
familiar, "They've disowned you. Take it off, my boy. If you do, I'll give you the love of
a father," Then, a female voice murmured, "And I'll be your mother."
He held the amulet in his fist, wide eyed.
"Take if off Durain.... take the amulet off."
Shaking his head, he ignored the voices and went back to bed, thinking, and worrying
over what had just happened. He jumped out of a dreamless sleep, when his bedroom
door slammed open.
Opening his eyes, he saw Almas.
"Al, your home? How's your mother?" He asked, his words slurred by sleep.
She said nothing, but approached him, and smiled down at him.
He noticed her eyes looked haunted, and vacant, and as she reached down and took off
his amulet, she said, "Go to sleep Durain. Now, everything will happen, just as planned."
But it wasn't Almas' voice that spoke; it was the voice that had spoken to him in his mind.
But before he could snatch his amulet back, a heaviness overcame him, and he drifted off
to sleep.
************************************************************************
He ran, again.
This time, he knew where he was running.
He was running home.
To the Vale, where he belonged.
But he was being chased, and hunted down by something unknown.
Fear closed down on him. The kind of fear where ones insides became ice, and blood
pumped like a wild river in the veins, and air battled its way to the lungs through the
tightly clenched throat and chest.
In his mind, he called out for help.
He called out for his loved ones.
"Mother!" He cried, afraid something might hear him as he hid behind bushes in some
forest he had come across. "Help me." Tears of terror burned his eyes, and trying to calm
down, he called for his twin, his father, his grandfather, and his cousin in Riva, but none
could find him so soon-- even if they'd heard his cry.
"Durain?" Came a voice.
"Almas?" He thought. It was her voice after all. "I'm over here!" He called.
Silence.
Then he saw Almas, a nervous smile on her face and right next to her was the woman
who haunted his dreams.
Zandramas.
The sorceress stopped, and immediately, Almas fell to her knees before the woman, head
bowed. "I have done all you have asked of me." Almas said, "What will be my reward?"
Zandramas sneered, "You're not done Veena," She said to Almas, "Go to the Vale, and
cry to Polgara that her son is dead." She said all this, looking in Durain's eyes. "Now go."
At her last words, Almas vanished like smoke.
"Veena?" Durain asked, "Where-- how'd she do that! She's no sorcerer!"
Zandramas threw her head back and laughed, her glowing skin going brighter. "Almas's
true name is Veena, fool. And this is your dream-- anything can happen in dreams."
"Anything?" Durain said, standing up, with a challenge in his voice.
Zandramas' eyebrow lifted, "No for you, Beldurain. Your amulet is here. You cannot do
anything."
She lifted a hand to reveal his dragon amulet on her palm.
"What do you want from me?" He yelled.
The betrayal of Almas pained him, and the anger of it was in his eyes.
At that, the dead sorceress opened her mouth, and the shadows leaped out towards him.
He tried to back away, but the tree he had hid against blocked his way, "It's only a
dream!" He cried to himself as the smoky shadows caught his wrists, ankles and waist.
But he cried in pain as the shadows burned him.
The shadows yanked at him and pulled him away from the tree.
He screamed as loud as he could as he felt as though he were being ripped apart in half.
He struggled towards the tree, and there, he saw himself.
His corpse.
His body lay in the grass, eyes closed. The face was calm, and fresh, and in peace.
"No!" He whispered, then struggled wildly towards his body, "It's only a dream!" He
roared.
"Only a dream?" Murmured Zandramas, "No," She smiled, "It is a new reality."
************************************************************************
Belgarath hurried past the house of Almas's mother's, and ran so fast, he gasped for air.
He felt someone using his or her will, and it made a lot of noise.
It had to be Durain.
Then, he saw a burning house, from where the surge of will was being used.
A crowd of people blocked his way, and in a hurry, he yelled, "Away!" and used his Will.
People flew out of his way as he tried to get into the wildly burning house. But it was
impossible.
Again, he used his Will to stop the fire, and hurried into the house. The smoke blinded
the old sorcerer, and he stumbled around. Whoever had been using their will had stopped.
"Durain!" He called.
No answer.
He called out to his daughter's son, but no one answered.
Then he burst into a bedroom.
It was Durain's bedroom.
And saw only charred wood, bed, and cloths. But in the corner of the room, he saw his
grandson.
Durain was laying on the floor, untouched by the fire that had ruined his home.
Belgarath touched the young man's face, shook him to awaken him, but he lay cold (in
spit of the fire's heat) calm, and at peace. He was dead.
Belgarath's breath caught, and he looked away, only to see his gift (the dragon amulet) on
the floor next to the bed, as though someone had tossed it there right when the fire had
stopped.
"No," Belgarath said through clenched teeth, "You can't be dead!"
He looked at Durain in anguish, and said, "How could this be?"
