Belgarath lifted the corpse of his grandson, and wept.
Using his Will, he transformed Durain's body into a tiny, pinky sized figure, put him onto
the floor and wrapped the young dead sorcerer into a handkerchief, transformed himself
into the wolf, and lifted the knot of the handkerchief that held Durain and ran off.
All he did was run.
When he couldn't run, he went falcon.
And so it went on for days.
It took him two weeks to reach his daughter's cottage, late at night.
Silently, and carefully, he put the handkerchief onto the earth and returned Durain to his
normal size. Seeing Durain's closed eyes tore at Belgarath.
Lifting his wolfish head, he howled at the night again and again until another wolf,
Poledra, his wife, came to his side. Seeing Durain, she sat down, placing a paw upon
Durain's still, cold chest, silently crying.
Soon enough, Polgara rushed out of her cottage, followed by Durnik and Coro. She let
out a scream of terror when she saw Durain, falling to her knees as the sky rained, its
tears kissing the tears of Polgara's.
"No." Polgara murmured into her hands, "No.h-how could he die? My son.O Gods,
why have you forsaken me?" This time she cried to the sky, yelling for all she was worth.
Crying to the God's that had taken her beloved ones away.
She screamed, knowing that Durain was gone forever.
Like Beldaran.
"First you take my sister, now my son! Why? Why have thou all forsaken me thusly?"
Looking up at her living son, Polgara said, "You did not feel your brother's heart stop?"
She asked, "You are his twin, Coro, you could have felt SOMETHING!"
Coro's blank expression turned to that of agony, and turned his face away.
"Look at your brother, Coro! Look! He lay's upon this earth, feeling nothing touch him!"
Polgara grabbed at Durain's stiff cold hand, "He is like ice!" She exclaimed, hysterical.
"Pol," Durnik took his wife by the shoulders, "Come.."
Leading her back to the cottage, Durnik lowered his head in sorrow as Coro helped
Belgarath lift Durain. Within hours, they had created a formal grave on the top on the
hill, shadowed by the weeping trees, and buried Durain.
Shivering, Coro murmured, "My brother's heart did not stop.. it still beats..I feel
it.."
"What?" Belgarath asked.
Shaking his head, Coro said, "I just can't believe that he is dead."
Without a word, Belgarath turned and left, as the rain-washed his tears away.
But Coro stayed there long, at the foot of his brother's grave.
In his head, he heard the steady beating of Durain's heart, he felt Durain's need.. need
for what? But as he closed his eyes, a sudden vision took over him. But yet it wasn't
just a simple vision.it was a vision of warning for he felt the warning in his head and
heart.
All he saw was blue.
Then the blue seemed to shimmer into water.
A scene took place then. And as he watched in wonder, the water became an ocean, then
the surface rippled. As he watched, the surface rippled until someone began to emerge
out of the water. A head, baring long golden hair came out, face down, with a
gold crown upon the head. Then the body came, wearing blue robes. Dripping with water,
the figure hovered over the water.
Then something happened, that had never happened before.
Another figure came out.
This figure bore blue-black hair, and black dripping robes, right next to the maiden,
hovering above the water like her.
With a flash, the woman looked up with emerald eyes, and the man (the other figure)
looked up into Coro's eyes with brown ones. All time seemed to freeze at that moment as
Coro saw his own reflection staring back at him. But he knew, it was not he that he was
looking at.
It was Durain, his dead twin brother.
With a cry, Coro jumped away from the grave and the vision, and realized he had fallen
to his knees. Quickly rising to his feet, Coro looked around, a lingering gaze at the grave,
then ran down the muddy hill to the cottage. But as he ran, the winds howled to him,
warning him as he saw Poledra, his grandmother, stand upon the hill where Durain lay,
her golden eyes glowing as he ran inside.
Looking down at the grave of her grandson, Poledra said, "One suspects that you are not
dead.."
"Yessssssss." The winds hissed in her ears.
Using his Will, he transformed Durain's body into a tiny, pinky sized figure, put him onto
the floor and wrapped the young dead sorcerer into a handkerchief, transformed himself
into the wolf, and lifted the knot of the handkerchief that held Durain and ran off.
All he did was run.
When he couldn't run, he went falcon.
And so it went on for days.
It took him two weeks to reach his daughter's cottage, late at night.
Silently, and carefully, he put the handkerchief onto the earth and returned Durain to his
normal size. Seeing Durain's closed eyes tore at Belgarath.
Lifting his wolfish head, he howled at the night again and again until another wolf,
Poledra, his wife, came to his side. Seeing Durain, she sat down, placing a paw upon
Durain's still, cold chest, silently crying.
Soon enough, Polgara rushed out of her cottage, followed by Durnik and Coro. She let
out a scream of terror when she saw Durain, falling to her knees as the sky rained, its
tears kissing the tears of Polgara's.
"No." Polgara murmured into her hands, "No.h-how could he die? My son.O Gods,
why have you forsaken me?" This time she cried to the sky, yelling for all she was worth.
Crying to the God's that had taken her beloved ones away.
She screamed, knowing that Durain was gone forever.
Like Beldaran.
"First you take my sister, now my son! Why? Why have thou all forsaken me thusly?"
Looking up at her living son, Polgara said, "You did not feel your brother's heart stop?"
She asked, "You are his twin, Coro, you could have felt SOMETHING!"
Coro's blank expression turned to that of agony, and turned his face away.
"Look at your brother, Coro! Look! He lay's upon this earth, feeling nothing touch him!"
Polgara grabbed at Durain's stiff cold hand, "He is like ice!" She exclaimed, hysterical.
"Pol," Durnik took his wife by the shoulders, "Come.."
Leading her back to the cottage, Durnik lowered his head in sorrow as Coro helped
Belgarath lift Durain. Within hours, they had created a formal grave on the top on the
hill, shadowed by the weeping trees, and buried Durain.
Shivering, Coro murmured, "My brother's heart did not stop.. it still beats..I feel
it.."
"What?" Belgarath asked.
Shaking his head, Coro said, "I just can't believe that he is dead."
Without a word, Belgarath turned and left, as the rain-washed his tears away.
But Coro stayed there long, at the foot of his brother's grave.
In his head, he heard the steady beating of Durain's heart, he felt Durain's need.. need
for what? But as he closed his eyes, a sudden vision took over him. But yet it wasn't
just a simple vision.it was a vision of warning for he felt the warning in his head and
heart.
All he saw was blue.
Then the blue seemed to shimmer into water.
A scene took place then. And as he watched in wonder, the water became an ocean, then
the surface rippled. As he watched, the surface rippled until someone began to emerge
out of the water. A head, baring long golden hair came out, face down, with a
gold crown upon the head. Then the body came, wearing blue robes. Dripping with water,
the figure hovered over the water.
Then something happened, that had never happened before.
Another figure came out.
This figure bore blue-black hair, and black dripping robes, right next to the maiden,
hovering above the water like her.
With a flash, the woman looked up with emerald eyes, and the man (the other figure)
looked up into Coro's eyes with brown ones. All time seemed to freeze at that moment as
Coro saw his own reflection staring back at him. But he knew, it was not he that he was
looking at.
It was Durain, his dead twin brother.
With a cry, Coro jumped away from the grave and the vision, and realized he had fallen
to his knees. Quickly rising to his feet, Coro looked around, a lingering gaze at the grave,
then ran down the muddy hill to the cottage. But as he ran, the winds howled to him,
warning him as he saw Poledra, his grandmother, stand upon the hill where Durain lay,
her golden eyes glowing as he ran inside.
Looking down at the grave of her grandson, Poledra said, "One suspects that you are not
dead.."
"Yessssssss." The winds hissed in her ears.
