Work Text:
In the twins' eighteenth year, Durnik began having The Dream again. It wasn't that he hadn't had dreams before, and indeed some of his dreams were fond recollections he would most likely blush to share. Nonetheless, he felt that a man's dreams were his own business and he certainly was not the type of person to air personal business in public. Private things were meant to be private and, of those private things, The Dream was one of the most secret things in his mind.
When Garion had brought him back from death in that rubble strewn area in the City of Endless Night, he woke as if from a dream, the coolness of his flesh moved to shiver by warming blood pumping through a newly woken heart. The Dream, as he came to refer to it in his own head, played in his vision unbidden, waking him to a gasp night after night in those first few weeks. It was nothing dramatic, more feelings than anything else but the intensity of those emotions felt like something a normal man could not contain. Intense impressions of emptiness and a desperate isolation that was raw, terrifying, and full of a bone deep horror that it would stretch on and on and on into an endless eternity unchanged and immutable.
Then he had become married, and Pol had driven some of the rawness of that experience from him in the sheer joy he had of never being alone again. And here he was, still waking each morning before the dawn to step outside and watch the waking of the world over the Vale, amazed and thankful for his life and family. He was perfectly content.
So why would the Dream begin again?
He woke again, heart beating fast, a choked sound of protest caught in his throat as he sat up in bed.
"Again?" Polgara was awake beside him, her glorious eyes dark in the dim light of their room. The moon gilded the trees outside their window with soft muted shades of light and shadow.
Immediately, he was embarrassed. "I'm sorry to disturb your rest, love," he apologized. "I did drink the herb tea you gave me."
"I could help you dear..." she offered again.
They'd had this discussion and he couldn't explain it, but he felt a distinct reluctance to allow anyone to see that. They had talked about it, and it was one of the many things he contemplated while he was fishing before he had lost his taste for it. "I just don't know why it should come up again now," he said, even as he settled down against the pillows. "I'm perfectly happy, I have everything anyone could ever want. Why would I have nightmares?"
"Durnik, dear, need I remind you that you are a remarkable man?" his wife said to him in mild exasperation.
"That's very kind of you to say so, Pol, but you know I don't think that," he replied. Logically, he knew that he had gifts now that set him apart; in actuality, he still thought of himself as the same man who had tended the forge at Faldor's farm.
"You're a Disciple of Aldur, a man whose destiny was written in the stars so that ages have known your coming, and you have done something that no man has done before. You have two lives and if it's significant enough for Prophecy, then it's significant enough for me." Her calm logic was a balm in the face of The Dream.
"And of course I have the most beautiful wife in the world," he told her with a faint smile.
She chuckled a little, a low, rich sound in the darkness. "Has Prince Kheldar been corrupting you again? I didn't know he had visited."
"No, not since last summer when he brought Khestal up to visit the twins," Durnik answered. He thought he had managed to deflect the subject, but Pol was not so easily dissuaded.
"Sometimes these things happen to Disciples. Sorcerers. We're different to other people not just in our abilities. All of us have had our own... personal quests." Polgara slipped her arms around him in a way they never did in public. "A recurring dream for us is more likely to be something more than memories. Speak to my father. He's the first Disciple, as he just loves to remind all of us. Let him earn the title. "
"But I was going to...." He started the protest, and felt it die at her interruption.
"You can go when you make sure the twins are attending their lessons," she said as if it was decided.
"It'll probably be nothing," he answered knowing from experience when he had lost.
"Then it won't have cost anything except a conversation with my father and time with your children," Polgara said. He had to admit as he settled to close his eyes that she had a good point there.
"Then I'll drop in tomorrow," Durnik answered. Belgarath would no doubt tell him he was being ridiculous and he could just ignore it until it faded away and then everything would be back to normal.
"That's not normal," Belgarath mused from where he was sitting with his feet up on the table sipping a hot cup of something. Needless to say, Durnik observed that Poledra was not in eyeshot of his behavior and was trying to corral Nikara and Duran, and get them over to the twins, who could handle them, knowing all the twin tricks they were likely to try.
"It's just a dream." Durnik hesitated, looking at the sorcerer in front of him who was frowning in what his wife always declared to be a cross between constipation and cogitation. He made a point of not smiling.
"Durnik, as a sorcerer and a disciple, I've told you before, repeating dreams are usually something important." He shifted slightly. "So what is this about?"
"I had this after Cthol Mishrak," Durnik admitted. "Pol thought it was just a leftover of everything that happened."
"Everything that happened?" Belgarath snorted. "Durnik, you died. No, actually, not to put too fine a point on it, you were murdered and sacrificed. There's a lot of power in that, if that sort of magic is your sort of thing. You went somewhere no one else has been, and came back. That's going to leave a mark."
It was a blunt summary, but Durnik appreciated Belgarath's frankness. "So why now?" he asked. "I'm happy, the twins are..."
"....coming into their abilities." Belgarath nodded. "I wish Beldin would pop back from time to time. He'd probably have an answer. Something overly clever and convoluted, of course, but an answer nevertheless. Well, tell me the details again."
"There isn't a lot to say," Durnik answered a little embarrassed. "Although I seem to remember more than I did last time. There's a feeling of falling in darkness. It feels endless, as if I've already been like that forever."
"Go on." Belgarath seemed intent, gesturing him to continue.
"Well... there's a light beneath me, then more, and then I'm falling through light and darkness and there's this feeling of something there, something enormous and... there aren't words for it," Durnik tried to explain.
"A God?" Belgarath suggested.
He thought about that for a moment. "No. Not like Eriond or Aldur. Different. Bigger. And there's this feeling of... isolation, of... loss, loneliness, and a sort of desperation, and an aching for something. It's very difficult to put into words. It's not something I think people can hold. It fills me up and... well I usually wake up then."
In a cold sweat more often than not. He felt awkward just talking about it.
Belgarath looked like he was thinking deeply, and Durnik had to admit he had spent his own time turning it over in his head when he was doing some repetitive chore.
"Something bigger than one of the Gods is worrying and at the same time I can only think of two things that come on that scale. One is UL, and the other is Garion's talkative voice in his head, who I thought had finally decided to move out," Belgarath mused. "Either way, if you're getting messages from either of them, then it's important."
"But what does it mean?" Durnik asked, feeling lost.
"Well now," Belgarath scratched his beard, "I think my first port of call would be to look up Garion, see if he's had any visitations from the Necessity. Or Eriond, see if his Father has been talking to him, or if the other Gods are misbehaving."
"What about Aldur? Could it be him?" Durnik touched his hammer engraved silver medallion instinctively.
"Aldur is distinctive. You would know if it was him, and he did say he had withdrawn a lot out of necessity." Belgarath shook his head. "I think it's time you paid Garion a visit. "
"All of us?" Durnik was mildly aghast. There was the garden, and the twins, and Pol was doing some complicated studying he knew better than to interrupt.
"Well, either you and Pol on your own -- it's not like we can't handle the twins here. Poledra can handle anything." The sorcerer grinned. "Although even they managed to try her patience the other day when they decided that it would be a good idea to practice translocation with her cooking utensils."
Durnik smiled a little at that. "Pol's reaction was spectacular, too. I suppose we could make a quick trip. I'll ask Pol whether we should take them with us or just try and get it done quickly."
"You know," Belgarath said a little critically. "You could just make a decision without asking my daughter. She doesn't quite rule the world."
"Would you do that to Poledra?" Durnik said astutely as he got up.
"Not twice, he wouldn't," Poledra spoke from the doorway narrowing her golden eyes at her husband. "One thinks that if one wants to eat off of that table ever again, one should take one's feet off of it. Now."
Belgarath sighed, adopting a hangdog expression, but there was a gleam in his eyes as he did so. "Tell me if you need an escort. Maybe we could work on your transformations a little, Durnik."
Wise enough not to get in the way of a brewing fight, Durnik smiled a little as he rose. "Thank you, Belgarath, and I hope our twins aren't being too troublesome, Poledra."
"It is nothing that Beltira and Belkira cannot manage." She looked at him with a piercing gaze that could be discomfiting. "For once, though, my husband is right. You should roam out of the Vale on occasion, if only for the sake of roaming. There is such a thing as becoming too used to one place."
He nodded a little, knowing those few words from Polgara's mother would sway her more than hours of rhetoric from her father. Perhaps they should take a trip away. If it were just the two of them, it might be a little rest from the spirited arguments that shook the rafters of their cottage.
"I'm not sure that we should leave my father in charge of the twins," Pol fretted as she adjusted her traveling clothes. "Even if we are going to fly to Riva. Nikara is at that age where she's... strong willed and stubborn and certain she's right about everything."
"I wonder where she got that from." Durnik couldn't help his small smile. He was trying to find what bird suited him best. He enjoyed flying, but he was conscious he was thinking about flying rather than feeling it. "Duran isn't as innocent as he would make us believe either."
"Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth sometimes, I know." Pol sighed.
"We don't have to do this," Durnik offered. "It is only a dream after all."
"No, dear, we must. If we don't go willingly, I'm sure it will be more painful to be pushed by events. We know how that turns out," she replied. "Do you have the visualization?"
"Yes, although it always feels a bit forced," Durnik admitted. "It's wonderful to fly but..."
"My father would choose a wolf over a bird any day. It might be you would feel more comfortable as another animal," she suggested. "But they would need to be able to cover a lot of ground."
It was an attractive thought. "Maybe we could try that. I am meant to work on my transformations." Durnik answered thoughtfully. He took Belgarath's suggestions seriously. "What should I try?"
"Some animal you can see clearly in your mind's eye. One that has left a lasting impression," Pol suggested as she shimmered into the snowy white shape of her owl-form.
Durnik considered that. Fish he knew but they weren't useful in this situation, and fishing hadn't been the all consuming interest it had been. It had taken him ten years to pick up a fishing pole again after Toth, and he only did it because Duran asked him how to catch the trout in the brook and it was something he could do with his son. He'd let every fish go though, feeling it was some sort of tribute to his fallen friend. He cast his mind back, searching his memories. Back at the forge at Faldor's farm he had seen a lot of horses, mainly the heavy solid work horses from the farms around, but he always remembered the day a noble's stallion had cast a shoe nearby and had been brought to him to shoe. That had been too much a horse really for a noble to ride; he had been a king of his own kind, a solid muscular gray with an intelligent look and the sort of easy power and gentle nature of a truly noble beast. Even now, Durnik found he could remember meeting his curious eyes as the horse turned his neck to inspect his handiwork on his hooves.
He let himself mentally hold the shape and flow into it, reveling in the feeling. This is very fine indeed, Pol, he announced, snorting and tossing his mane.
It is indeed, she replied, and looked at him appreciatively with her golden owl eyes. Well, well dear... you've kept that hidden. Would you like to run?
I do believe I do, he declared, and gave in to the instinct, galloping in a ground eating stride with his white mane streaming behind him and a white owl gliding along pacing him.
At this rate, they would be to the coast in no time. Perhaps then he could try being a dolphin. Now that was something to look forward to.
Nikara thoroughly approved of Belgarath's approach to minding the pair of them, though she objected to the fact they were minded at all. It was a sort of benign neglect, and even Poledra had a tendency to let them get on with it. They should have been having the time of their lives; they were allowed to study what they wanted, develop their practice of the Will and the Word and generally run amok. She'd been looking forward to it ever since Father and Mother said they were going to visit Riva.
Unfortunately, her twin, Duran, was not entering into the spirit of things at all. It was very perplexing. She fiddled with her blonde curls a moment watching her sibling, and finally couldn't stand it and interrupted his thoughts in 'twin'. "What's wrong with you, Duran? We should be having adventures! Didn't we plan to see if we could get to see Chi-har and Lara before their parents headed to Muros with the cattle?"
They were adults, it was just their parents' over-protectiveness that stopped them proving it and Algaria really wasn't that far. Practically on their doorstep, give or take a few leagues.
"Don't you think it's strange, Mother and Father heading to Riva alone, Nik?" Duran asked thoughtfully. Nikara shrugged a little. Duran thought too much and acted too little, in her opinion.
"Perhaps they just wanted to see our cousins," she suggested. "Maybe they're finally going to get Geran married off. He's practically ancient now, and no sign of a wife."
"We are a little different as families go. Mother didn't get married for thousands of years," Duran replied patiently. "Look, this is serious. I think... I think there's something wrong with Father."
Immediately Nikara was alarmed. Something wrong with Father? There couldn't be, surely. But... well, Mother had been very careful around him, and she hadn't shouted for practically days at anyone. That could be regarded as unusual behavior. "Then we should go after them," she announced. The conclusion was obvious to her at least. She fiddled with her honey blond curls again. She wasn't sure if she liked it curly and with a whim of her magic smoothed out the style with a gesture.
She knew it was definitely serious when her twin didn't argue with her, and instead asked, "But what about Grandfather?"
"He won't even notice we're gone," Nikara declared. "If we fly."
"You crashed the last time we did that," Duran noted critically.
"Only because I was using a picture in a book as a reference," she protested. "Really, someone should talk to people about artistic license. I can do it."
"It's Grandmother we need to watch," Duran mused. "We'll say we're going down to the Tree...they won't miss us for a few hours and by the time they wonder where we are, we'll be more half a day ahead. But we should leave a note. I don't want them to worry."
Nikara suppressed a sigh. Sometimes her brother could be too virtuous for words.
"Let's go pack," she said. "I'm sure we'll catch up with them soon enough."
Hopefully before their grandparents caught up with them.
"Aunt Pol?" Garion had hurried out to meet them when they had landed and transformed in front of a couple of rather startled Guards. They had opted to finish the last leg of the journey as seagulls, although Pol admitted crossing the Sea of the Winds as a dolphin on Durnik's request had been exhilarating. It was like discovering a whole new world which, considering her experiences over millennia, was definitely worthwhile. It made her realize that she had spent a lot of her time alive engaged in serious tasks, and her mother's admonition for her to learn to have fun was starting to bear a little fruit. The two of them had competed in who could do the most elaborate acrobatics in leaps out of the water in a manner that would have had their children staring with open mouths.
"Hello, dear," she murmured, smoothing her dress down as if just meeting him for breakfast.
"Is there an emergency? Is it the twins or... Grandfather?" Garion looked quite alarmed and she smiled as she patted him reassuringly on the arm.
"No, dear, we're just paying you a little visit. I haven't been here since the birth of Ce'Ara," Polgara answered.
"And I wanted to ask you a few questions," Durnik added. She saw Garion's eyes widen a little at that as he caught on. He had become quicker on the uptake as he had grown and really, he had a very fine mind, even if he didn't realize it. Of course, with some of the most learned people as his companions and expecting the most from him, it was hardly surprising.
"Come in, Ce'Nedra is just trying to get Arell to go to her lessons. She's at that age when she doesn't see the point," Garion said. "And I'm sure you might want refreshments."
"That would be perfect, Garion," Durnik said. "Although we had a little to eat on the way."
Durnik had been in his element chasing down a shoal of fish, showing a joy in a more direct form of his once favorite past time that had been missing for many years. Polgara nearly showed a smile at that memory as they followed the young king inside. He hadn't seemed to have aged at all since that moment of the choice but there was a certain element of maturity about him that probably came from multiple fatherhood.
Riva was a little like a second home to them, its passageways familiar and welcoming now, despite the echoes of her own twin lurking in the back of her mind. Garion ordered them drinks and food and they were just sitting down when Ce'Nedra burst in. "Great Nedra, that daughter of yours, Garion... oh... Lady Polgara!" The diminutive Rivan Queen ruined her regal bearing by rushing over immediately to hug her and then Durnik as well.
"Isn't Arell a little young to be giving you this much trouble?" Durnik asked.
"Oh, no, she's fine, though sulking she has to do her lessons on a sunny day," Ce'Nedra said. "It's Beldaran. She keeps trying to slip out of the palace to visit a boy in the town. It's just not fitting for a princess!"
Polgara couldn't help it; she laughed, a rich memory filled chuckle. "I do recall at that age you and Garion were doing a lot of unsuitable things."
Garion could still blush even now. "Well, she believes she's in love," he offered awkwardly. "Should we stop her, Aunt Pol?"
"Only if you want them to get married, dear," she advised taking some of the tea. "Experience tells me forbidding something is the best way to encourage a teenager to do it."
It had certainly worked on the majority of the Rivan line. She could see Garion's bewildered look and smiled. "Invite him to the castle... and a group of others. If it's love, then you'll soon see. If not, then once the excitement of sneaking around and getting caught has gone, there will be nothing to fuel the relationship."
He nodded thoughtfully and then asked. "So what was it that you came to discuss with us, Aunt Pol?"
"Actually, this time it's Durnik with a question," she answered as she sipped her tea.
"Durnik?" the pair of them spoke in almost perfect union.
Her husband cleared his throat, embarrassed by the attention, she could tell. "Yes. I wanted to ask if you've had any contact from the... the Prophecy?"
Garion shook his head with a puzzled look at Durnik and then at her as if questioning what the real question was. "No. No, I haven't heard the Voice since just after Korim," he admitted. "And then it was like he was... outside of me."
"Oh." Durnik sounded obscurely disappointed and Polgara knew that he had pinned his hopes on a nice simple answer.
"Why? Have you heard something?" Garion queried leaning forward.
"There aren't more Prophecies to fulfill?" Ce'Nedra asked, sounding concerned. "Geran isn't in danger, is he?"
"No, dear, nothing like that," Polgara soothed while contemplating what that meant.
"I've been having a recurring dream, and Belgarath wondered if it might be involved," Durnik explained. "It's nothing really."
Ce'nedra shook her head. "We all know dreams are important, Durnik. "
"What sort of dream, Durnik?" Garion asked frowning a little.
"I started having recurring dreams after Cthol Mishrak, but they've come back. Well it's as if there is this impossibly large blackness and I'm falling into it..." Durnik began awkwardly.
"Wait." Garion stopped him. "That's what I was visualizing when I uh...."
"Brought him back to life?" Polgara said.
"With the Orb," Garion added hastily.
The Orb, of course. That was a vast power in itself. Perhaps that would provide some insight. "Garion, dear, perhaps the Orb knows something?" she suggested. "Can we see it?"
"Uh, well, Geran has it today," Garion admitted. "The Orb expressed a strong interest in spending time with him."
"Garion, he's how old?" Polgara was alarmed at the thought of Geran with something that could give even gods pause for thought. If Nikara were able to take up the Orb, the world would really be in for a shock.
"Wolf is with him," Garion explained as if that made it all fine. "He won't let anything happen to Geran."
"Then we'll send for him, and in the mean time, Ce'Nedra can catch us up on the children," she said decisively. "Pour some more tea, Garion."
"Yes, Aunt Pol," the King of Riva replied automatically, and then met her smile and started laughing.
"I thought you said you knew the way to Riva?" Nikara scolded, now getting a little worried as night drew in. They had landed in a boggy sort of area, and she was very confused.
"Maps look different on paper than things look on the ground," Duran admitted sheepishly. He stared at the map hoping it would give him some way to figure out their location.
"Well, we could be in Drasnia or in Nyissa the way we have gotten turned around!" she declared.
Duran sighed -- all those traveling adventures that their Grandfather had told them suddenly seemed to be lacking in the practical details of how they actually knew where they were going. He was beginning to see why Silk had been so vital to the quests when he didn't have powers in the same way as many of the others. All the powers in the world didn't help if you couldn't get where you needed to be.
"Don't be silly, we can't be in Nyissa. We followed the river north," Duran declared with as much authority as he could muster. "We must have just accidentally followed a tributary." He frowned looking at the map. "If we could just find a landmark..."
"Oh that will help," Nikara snapped. "We'll never catch up with Mother and Father at this rate!" She wandered off in a huff, and Duran tried to think what his father would do. Something practical, something constructive. Look for local knowledge. There were no people, but there were birds. He could ask the birds.
He transformed into a hawk with white bars on his wings as he rose up into the sky, looking for a likely conversation partner.
The first eagle he approached was wary; he was quite sizable a bird of prey and scared off some of the smaller birds. In the distance, he could see the hovering speck of another hawk catching a thermal, and he flapped his wings, soaring over towards it.
~Excuse me,~ he began, and the other hawk glared at him.
~Do you know nothing? You have let your shadow cast over my hunting grounds,~ the other hawk said, fluttering her lavender and blue banded wings in annoyance. ~There will be no prey in this area for hours.~
~Oh. I apologize,~ he offered hastily. ~I have food I can share with you... uh, prey I have already hunted.~
~Then I may consider forgiving you,~ the other hawk decided graciously, and Duran couldn't help but think she seemed awfully full of personality for a bird, even a hawk.
~Do you have a name?~ he asked.
~Della~ she informed him proudly. ~So I am known among my kin. We are the rulers of the sky. We wear pieces of it on our wings to show this to the world.~
She wheeled away to flash the blue of her bands at him and he swirled in the sky with her.
~Let me share my prey with you. I am... not always a hawk,~ he replied, although he had to admit the temptation to hold this form was growing.
~Ah, father has spoken of such a thing,~ she said and that was a surprise right there. Duran nearly faltered in his flight.
~Your father?~ he asked.
~Father and mother were not always hawks,~ Della told him as they swooped over to where he could see Nikara sitting on a rock.
~Really?~ He nearly screeched in barely suppressed excitement. ~Are your mother and father called Vella and Beldin?~
~You have heard of them?~ Della was surprised as she landed on a nearby tree, her head tilting in curious interest.
~Polgara of the Owl is our mother. She called your father Uncle Beldin,~ he explained as he transformed before her curious yellow eyes.
~Interesting. I have wondered how such a thing could be done.~ she answered and cocked her head at his twin sister.
"This is Nikara, my twin," he introduced her. "Nik, this is Della. I think she's a daughter of Uncle Beldin!"
"Really?" He could see the calculating look in his sister's eyes, which he could read like words on a page.
"Yes, I know it might distract Grandfather and Grandmother, but not forever," he said. "Della, here is the food I promised. We managed to get lost on our way to the Isle of the Winds. We were hoping to find someone who knew the way."
He watched as the large hawk mantled over the chicken they had taken from Poledra's kitchen, tearing at it thoughtfully.
~You are a pair of fledglings in the skies. You would fall into the seas. I will show you the way when I have eaten,~ she replied, and Duran smiled.
"Thank you," he offered, and ignored the knowing smirk of his sister and the elbow in the side. "I would be very grateful."
"Yeah, very grateful," Nikara added and he felt a blush rise up to accompany his hesitant smile.
Garion knew Aunt Pol and Durnik wouldn't just come from the Vale to Riva unless there was good reason, although from the way his children flocked around them both, that could be reason enough. He knew them both well enough to know that they were at least a little concerned about Durnik's dream and that meant he was as well. Something that Aunt Pol couldn't solve, or Belgarath and Poledra, and the twins had the potential to be a big problem.
He had excused himself briefly to try and track down Geran and found Durnik outside, looking out over Riva. He did look concerned, and that was troubling in itself. Durnik had been a solid presence in his life for as long as he could remember. If he'd had any father figure, it was the solid Sendarian smith, and for all the strangeness they had undergone, he had just ploughed through as if he had confidence every problem could be dealt with if they approached it logically.
"You have a good kingdom, Garion," Durnik said with a faint smile.
"It has its moments," he replied as they stood for a moment looking out of the sea shining in the sun and the stone walls, gilded by the late afternoon golden light. He was lucky he felt at ease enough with the other man to stand in companionable silence, but after a long moment, he spoke. "Are you all right, Durnik? Really?"
He caught the brief moment of hesitation before the other man said. "Pol is worried. I'm not sure whether I should be worried, too, or if that's just her reaction."
"She's seen a lot more than we have," Garion said. "But you're her husband, and gods only know I get a bit irrational when it comes to Ce'Nedra."
"True enough," Durnik replied, and forced a bit of a smile. "I'm not used to this, Garion," he said. "What are two Sendarians doing mixed up with strange omens and portents? I just want to be a husband and father."
"The next words on your lips are going to be 'Why me?' aren't they?" Garion teased, trying to lighten the mood. "It took me years to come to the conclusion it was because who else could it be?"
The blacksmith chuckled. "You have a point there. Pol does always say I take the old adage of 'if you want something done properly, do it yourself' to heart."
"I can believe that," Garion smiled. He let silence fall for a moment and then asked tentatively, "So is the Dream really bad? Why did you think it was the Prophecy?"
"The feelings are so intense, and... they feel vast. Vaster even than a god," Durnik murmured in a low voice, and Garion knew that Durnik had experienced the presence of a god many times so would definitely recognize the difference. "I remember a little more each time, but I don't know why I'm having the dream, and though some of it feels terrible I can't honestly tell you if it's bad or not. It's interesting that you saw that first part though."
"I guess that means that it's to do with something that happened back then." Garion considered the matter thoughtfully. "I'm sorry that I haven't got anything else that can help you. I was somewhat shaky myself after the experience." The exhaustion had settled into his bones then, despite the assistance of the Orb and its vast powers. He had changed the natural order of things in that moment, and in some ways that had been as profound a blow to the Spirit of Dark as the loss of Torak as its vessel.
"I can imagine." Durnik glanced at him. "Did I ever thank you for that? I think I was too dazed to do so. I'm glad you wanted to make Pol happy."
"I'm pretty sure you did." Garion smiled a little. "Durnik, I wanted to save you you know, not just please Aunt Pol. You're my family too. Even back then, you were a constant in my life. You were the one there on that journey who wasn't used to skulduggery, danger, and magic. You were rock solid and if it weren't for you, I don't think I would have coped. First night in the woods, I would have run screaming, destiny or not."
Durnik patted him on the shoulder, obviously unable to speak for a moment though he was smiling. "Just as well you didn't."
"Yes." Garion smiled. "We can work through this. I'll ask the Orb, and if nothing there, we'll get hold of Eriond. "
"I didn't want to interrupt him. He is a God and you don't bother gods about bad dreams." Durnik answered.
"And you gave him a childhood and raised him," Garion pointed out. "He'd do anything for you. All these things go both ways, Durnik."
He saw a pair of grey shapes loping in through the entrance to the courtyard and exhaled. "Finally! I should have known he'd be out hunting with Wolf."
"How is Geran?" Durnik asked as they watched one of the shapes blur into a human form, complete with the same sandy hair Garion sported.
"He's meant to be learning responsibility," Garion replied. "But he seems more interested in running around as a wolf." He had suspicions about Wolf. Just like Poledra, Wolf hadn't aged at all after his adult growth had been reached. It made him wonder how far the companionship was going to go. On the one hand, he was pleased that his son (who would no doubt outlive a wife) would have a constant companion. On the other, Geran seemed to be avoiding women in general, which wasn't a good thing when his subjects obsessed over the Rivan line.
"Well, he is still young," Durnik offered. "I'm sure you'll find a way to get the message across."
"Geran!" Garion beckoned him over. "We have visitors."
"Uncle Durnik!" Geran jogged over, Wolf by his side. His face lit up with a smile as he embraced the other man. "It's good to see you! What brings you to Riva?"
"They've come for a visit, and we need the Orb," Garion told him.
"It is good to see you," Durnik professed. "You grow inches every time we come here. Greetings to you, too, little brother."
"Greetings to you. One is pleased to see members of one's pack back in the same range," Wolf replied as he sat on his haunches, tongue lolling from his mouth.
"One agrees," Durnik replied in flawless wolf, which Garion assumed was due to his Grandmother's and Grandfather's habit of using the language. "It is good when the pack is together, no matter the range."
"Indeed," the wolf replied. "Perhaps the pack will hunt together again."
Garion found himself on the receiving end of a look from the wolf that was nearly a look of reproach for neglecting his wolfly duties. The thought of running free and wild was very tempting indeed.
"Can I have the Orb, Geran?" he asked, putting his hand out for it.
"Of course, Father." He handed it over. Immediately, the Orb greeted him with the puppyish enthusiasm he had come to expect, as if they had been apart for more than a few hours.
"Stop that," he scolded in a firm but indulgent tone. "Yes, I missed you, too." The Orb was glowing with apparent crystalline good spirits as he held it. "We'd better go back in. I don't think Aunt Pol will forgive us if we do something without them," he said regretfully.
"Not even if we leave a note?" Durnik said with a deadpan expression, and Garion found himself laughing with his old friend as they headed back inside.
Belgarath was now officially getting worried. He, who had faced the end of existence with an implacable will and purpose, was feeling anxious about the fact that his daughter's children had disappeared on his watch.
"You did not check that they went to Beltira and Belkira?" Poledra asked, arching a perfect eyebrow at him.
"They are adults," he grumbled back. "One expects them to behave as adults should."
He paced around. "Blast the pair of them!" he exclaimed, slipping out of the wolvish that he and his wife usually used. "The scent doesn't lead to the Tree at all. And it just vanishes, which means no doubt they are trying to fly, and the last time they flew, Nikara crash landed."
"You are not thinking clearly, Old Wolf," Poledra said. "Let us follow the trail to its source to find their destination."
"Fine," Belgarath said grumpily as he slipped into his wolf form. "But I am going to tear strips off the pair of them when we find them."
When, not if. He had to keep telling himself that. He was the worst grandfather in the world and his daughter would never, ever, let him forget that. She could, after all, hold grudges for thousands of years.
It wasn't that long a run to the Cottage, and the scent of the twins was definitely showing them to be in and out of the stores, mingling with that of food. Conveniently, there was a note on the kitchen table in Duran's careful script which he read with a sense of growing apoplexy and just a hint of understanding.
"They've gone after Polgara and Durnik," he told his wife, who had also transformed back into human form. "What were they thinking!?"
"One suspects they were thinking there was something wrong and wanted to help," Poledra said .
"I know but they're just children!" Belgarath protested.
"A moment ago they were adults," Poledra reminded him. "We know where they are headed, therefore we will intercept them."
"As simple as that?" Belgarath replied. Nothing was as simple as that, not with the twins. It hadn't been with Polgara, and her children were proving to follow suit. Nikara was more in temperament like her than she would be willing to admit, though with a flamboyant genius for trouble that perplexed most of them. Duran was solid and dependable like his father, but again with a dreamier romantic side that Belgarath secretly suspected came from Polgara.
"One does not seek complications when one seeks a simple solution," Poledra said turning back into a wolf. "Come now, we shall run, and we shall fly and when we reach Riva, we will have either found them or we can start looking from that point to see how far they have reached."
"It's as good a plan as any," Belgarath sighed, and with that, two wolves sprinted out into the long grass of the Vale, heading towards the vast rolling plains of Algaria and the shortest route to Riva.
Durnik was very uncomfortable with all this fuss that seemed to be centered on him. Somehow, it had spiraled out of control. The Orb was involved and there was a seemingly endless array of people discussing what they should do. Polgara, Belgarion and Geran were discussing the Orb and Ce'Nedra was just joining in as well. Not to be outdone, Beldaran, recently returned from her visit into the town and obviously expecting a big scene, had been disappointed to have her drama usurped and waved off as unimportant. Nonetheless, she had joined in with her loud suggestions, which had led to Ce'Ara and Arell running in as well, and soon the place seemed to be a cacophony of opinion. In the end, they had agreed that it had waited this long so it could wait a little longer, and had spent a comparatively pleasant evening catching up with their extended family and the news of their friends. He had to admit it was rather nice, but at the back of his mind, he was still worried.
That night, the Dream was stronger than ever, but the details of what he was seeing faded the moment he woke, slipping in a heartbeat from his mind and leaving him with the sensation he had lost some immensely important knowledge. He felt sure that if he could just remember the images properly everything would make a lot more sense.
He stood looking out at the dawn from the battlements and turned when he heard someone approaching. Wolf stood there looking at him, his golden wolf eyes the only spark of color in the dawn.
"How goes it with you, little brother?" he asked politely.
"One finds it well," the wolf replied sitting on his haunches. "One is curious. There was much noise and yapping last night. One does not understand why this is so."
"One is troubled by nightly mind-pictures," Durnik replied in the manner of a wolf. "One fears that they might be important."
"Ah." Wolf sniffed at him. "Why would you fear importance?"
"I..." Durnik hesitated. He had been going to say he did not, but the truth was that he did. "One is not sure. One fears being raised too high and falling from that height."
"Falling from any height can be painful. It does not need to be a great one. But from heights one can see many wonders." He gave a wolfish grin and looked out suddenly over towards the waves.
A flash of movement against the silver of the sea in the pre-dawn light and he could see what seemed to be three hawks flying for all they were worth towards him and then a little further on, two speckled falcons seemingly in hot pursuit.
"What the...?" Durnik squinted and then felt a knot in his stomach as he recognized the white bands on the hawk. "Duran?"
Apparently oblivious to his presence on the battlements, the three hawks swept in to land, some with better precision than others. Nikara transformed back still sprawled on the ground from her inelegant landing.
"Come on, Duran, if we get to Mother and Father first it will be fine!" she hissed.
Duran transformed looking torn. "We're in so much trouble," he groaned. "And I can't just go off and leave Della like that!"
"Grandfather is going to turn us into frogs!" Nikara wailed. "They're coming!"
"Actually," Durnik offered, stepping out from the shadows. "I believe it's your mother with a history of turning people into frogs."
"She must have got it from somewhere," Nikara said reflexively and then realized who was speaking. She flung herself at her father, connecting with a solid thump. "Oh Father! We were so worried about you! We had to come after you, really we did."
Durnik hugged her back still bemused as the two speckled falcons landed. Almost immediately, Belgarath was coming towards them looking very angry indeed. "Nikara, Duran! In the name of all the Gods, what were you thinking?"
In the face of that ire, the twins automatically moved close together to present a united front and shuffled a little sheepishly to try and back behind their father.
"I don't think that's going to help you," Durnik told them sternly. "What's going on here?"
"Your children took it upon themselves to follow you to Riva," Belgarath ground out, visibly controlling his temper. "While telling us they were making a visit to the Tree after visiting Beltira and Belkira."
"I see." Durnik looked at the pair of them. "And why did you do that?"
"Because we were worried about you, of course," Nikara blurted as if it were self evident. "Oh, Father, there is something wrong isn't there? Why else would you rush off to Riva without us?"
"Mother was behaving strangely, too," Duran added stoutly, sticking to their viewpoint. "We can help, whatever it is. You shouldn't have left us behind."
"One is not pleased that you risked yourselves foolishly," Poledra declared. "You should have spoken to the Pack Leader."
"And then what?" Nikara showed that same fire that his Pol had. "You would say no, and we wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't have met Uncle Beldin's daughter!"
That effectively silenced the adults present and Durnik blinked a little. Beldin and Vella had a daughter? It was then he registered the blue and lavender banded hawk that was watching the scene with its head cocked at them all in amusement.
"This is Della," Duran introduced them.
"Really? Beldin's daughter?" Belgarath asked, and Durnik could see he had been successfully diverted. Belgarath had missed his brother Disciple more than he could ever say, and he knew Pol would be equally affected. He also knew for a fact that his daughter was far too clever for her own good.
"Yes," the twins chorused together, but only Durnik caught the developing adoration in the look his son leveled at the hawk. And he caught the nearly hidden smirk from his daughter, too.
In that, he decided that he could forgive their reckless behavior. His quiet son finding a connection outside of the Vale, well. That was something he had worried about. Duran was a young man and had little experience with the mysteries of women, though if he could survive his sister, he was pretty sure he could cope with anything.
"Why are my children here, Old Wolf?" Polgara's voice could be very penetrating and she didn't look amused as she joined them on the battlements.
He could see Belgarath turning to give an explanation only to be cut off immediately by her mother.
"Enough, Polgara." She spoke firmly. "And you, too," she said to Belgarath, who was gathering to speak.
"They were concerned about me Pol," Durnik offered as an explanation. "They noticed there was something strange going on and came after us."
"I see." His wife narrowed her eyes a little. "I think I need to have a private word with my daughter in particular. Then we can resolve all this one way or another."
Durnik nodded. "Pol, Duran has a new friend here, Della. I believe Beldin is her father." It wasn't often he got to surprise her, and the intake of breath and widening of her glorious eyes was worth it.
"Then she should be invited, too," she decided. "I'm sure we would all love news of Uncle Beldin. Everyone inside."
Durnik was grateful Pol hadn't started exploding things. They both knew where their daughter's feisty nature had its origin, and considering the circumstances, she was being very restrained. He still couldn't believe they had decided to fly all the way to Riva just like that because they were worried about him. But then, it was time the two of them started experiencing the world, not just through books and study.
Of course it took some time to explain to Garion... and then again to Ce'Nedra. And then when he thought they were done, the entirety of the family assembled in the room, questions and answers flying backwards and forwards.
Durnik sat back, barely saying anything. At this stage he felt they should just do something. Rather surprisingly, Wolf came and lay beside him, resting his head on his lap as they watched the spirited debate.
In the end, rather surprisingly, when they couldn't seem to come to a consensus about whether the Orb might be dangerous or not, he remembered what Garion had said and finally suggested, "I think we should call Eriond."
Wolf wagged his tail lazily "One thinks it is wise," he agreed. "The kindly one will never harm this one."
"Are you sure about this?" Pol checked with him again. She knew his reluctance to trade on their relationship with the new God of Angarak, and, to a certain extent, shared it.
"I'm sure," he reiterated.
"Garion, dear, would you call Eriond?" she asked.
"How?" He seemed perplexed and then followed her gaze to his hand. "Oh. Oh, yes, of course. I forgot." He concentrated for a moment and there was a pure crystal bell chime that resonated in the room and silenced any chit-chat. There was a curiously expectant harmonic to the tone and it was no surprise when one moment there was no one there and the next, there was Eriond, glowing just a little and filling the chamber with His presence.
"Hello. I wondered if you might decide to call me," Eriond greeted, smiling. "Zakath and Cyradis send their love."
"We know you're busy, Eriond," Durnik apologized, looking at Eriond's ageless expression. "I didn't want to trouble you."
"It's no trouble, Durnik. Friends and family do things for each other," he replied. He leaned over and gave Pol a kiss on the cheek before he approached Garion. "May I, Garion?"
"I scarcely would say no, Eriond." The King of Riva detached the Orb from his sword and handed the blue glowing stone to him.
"Durnik, the Orb and I can clear your thoughts and help you remember further. I can see the thoughts you can remember, but there's a barrier in your mind," Eriond spoke gently to him.
"I understand." Durnik settled himself, and Pol took his hand.
"You don't have to do this," she murmured to him, and he shook his head.
"I really think I do, Pol," he told her softly.
"Are you ready?" Eriond asked and all Durnik could do to that question was nod mutely as the Orb flared and bathed them both in blue azure light,
Down he sank into the memory of the Dream, the terrifying endless darkness enveloping him, the feeling of falling downwards uncontrollably. And then the light, at first a mere speck in the distance and then a growing brilliance much like the light outside the cave mouth at Korim that had flooded the universe with the potential for change. There were the feelings, the towering sense of loss and isolation, the desperation of it all that threatened to overwhelm him; but this time, Eriond was there beside him, glowing blue with the Orb's power.
"Do not fear," Eriond breathed, and even he was shaking with the force of the emotions around them. "I believe I understand now where these feelings are coming from. "
Not the Orb then, or himself, or the Prophecy or even the Gods. Durnik couldn't think of another entity that it could possibly be.
"Who is it?" he asked, nearly drowning in the strength of even the memory of feeling.
"Mother," Eriond murmured with a profound sadness. "Even now she grieves the loss of her son. You were in her arms as he fell, and you carry a piece of her thoughts with you."
"The Universe?" He was feeling the thoughts of the universe? It was dizzying to comprehend. "But why me? "
"You have had a glimpse into the purpose of things." Eriond's expression was serious. "When you died. It is said that all questions are given answers."
He could nearly remember. He could nearly put his finger on the reasons and he turned, facing the light, feeling something where he had been before. In his mind he was walking forward and could see a figure there. A large, imposing, familiar figure that he recognized with a joyous uplift to his heart. "Toth!"
"Welcome," the words echoed in his mind loud and clear, the mute's mind voice as rich and deep as the man was himself. "Eriond, you may not go further, though your Mother would greet you. Durnik, my friend, I have missed you."
"And I you, Toth," he said sadly. "You weren't in my mind back then, in the original Dream."
"But I have been in your mind much since and this is not just a memory," he replied. "This is our place, this threshold. I went forward, you were called back, but here you will find your answer."
"I will talk with Mother so you can have a private conversation," Eriond offered, polite for all his divinity, and Durnik smiled, no longer afraid with the presence of Toth here.
"Come, it is just a little further," Toth told him, and he stepped into the light.
Immediately it came flooding back, all of it. What he had seen and experienced, the way every moment of his life had replayed at the moment of his death and his regret had not being able to be with Pol. And then there had been a voice. Not vast and booming, but something still, and quiet and infinitely familiar, like turning to see a long lost loved one just there and feeling a leap of joy in the recognition.
~If I give you back, if you are asked for... would you help me?~ A woman's voice whispered inside of him.
~Yes, Lady,~ Durnik remembered agreeing, humbled. ~If there is anything in my meagre power to do so.~
~Will you love?~ came the question.
~With all my heart,~ he had replied, Pol's image in his minds eye.
~Love is needed to be between equals, you will find this,~ the voice said. ~And thus it is my first Sons' need to find and experience the love of equals. How will they do that? Are they condemned forever to loneliness and desperation, doomed to go mad as my son Torak has done?~ The Mother of all things glimmered even in the light as she enveloped him. ~No, Durnik. For no matter how my wound is healed, this remains and I will it not to be so. This world, this place, I birthed to heal all things and so shall it be the cradle of those that can grow to join my firstborn across the starry universe. Those special ones already chosen by the Prophecies shall bear the seed from which will grow my children's happiness. Perhaps now, perhaps eons hence, but this shall be the way of things, no matter whether it is Light or Dark that prevails.~
There was a pause and he recollected the arms of the Mother holding him in bliss. ~My Child of hope, answer this one question, for it is the cornerstone of what you fight for. Is love unchanging and eternal, or changing and finite?~
He had an eternity to think in this place for there was no time, an eternity for his thoughts to come at the problem. The fact of his love for Polgara was eternal and infinite. Unchanging and absolute as true love should be, but the nature of his love was variable, changing moment by moment in a never ending dance as they themselves changed.
~Neither. Love is Infinitely changeable,~ he answered finally in a dawning revelation. ~I will Love forever, but that Love will change as we change or else one day it would break us apart. The only love that lasts forever is one that can change. A paradox, but that is what I believe.~
There was a delighted laugh and the Mother, the Universe herself blessed him. ~Let it not be said that from the humblest of us all great wisdom cannot find a pathway. So shall it be if the Choice be made.You are blessed, child of mine. You are worthy to pass back and try this for yourself and work towards MY Purpose. Be well, Child of mine.
~Thank you, Mother.~ He felt a surge of hope, and then he was tugged away, plunged back through the darkness and back, back and up and....
He was lying on the floor in the room at Riva with a host of anxious faces looking at him, Eriond bending over him with the Orb and the immense presence of UL filling the room, as well.
"What's wrong?" he asked, looking around, looking at everyone.
"You idiot!" Pol said and it astonishingly looked like she had been crying. "You stopped breathing! Eriond couldn't bring you back so he called on His Father to undo his mistake."
"It wasn't a mistake," Durnik replied immediately and sat up to prove he was fine."It's not Eriond's fault." Polgara seemed to want to make sure he was really fine, and was unusually open and tender about the way she touched his face. He had to admit, this was not necessarily unwelcome.
"Thine memory was powerful enough that, when unleashed, the body remembered also for a moment," UL told them. "In truth, it is surprising to find Her intervention so directly; however, I understand the charge she has laid upon you and all those of this place."
"Who is this Her?" Ce'Nedra asked.
"My own Beloved, the Mother of the Gods," UL answered.
"The Universe? Durnik's been consorting with the Universe?" Belgarath sounded incredulous.
"Mother is as interested in what has happened as any of us." Eriond's smile was sweet. "It would seem She has given a Purpose to us all now."
"Which is?" Garion asked.
"What Mothers usually want for their children." Durnik couldn't help his smile. "For them to be happy, meet someone nice, fall in love and maybe have children. I think we're already working on that." For some reason, he felt buoyed up and ebullient following his vision, like he could do anything. Instinctively he knew he would have to guide his children -- and from the sounds of it there would be more -- and he would have the difficult task of instilling in the potential loves of gods the good solid values that would stop their increasing power from corrupting them. So would Garion and Ce'Nedra, and even Cyradis and Zakath. Maybe it wouldn't be Nikara and Duran, maybe it would be one of their descendants, but sooner or later, they would be equals to the gods.
"I think you and I have a lot to talk about." Pol looked deep into his eyes. "Uninterrupted."
Durnik smiled at her, stunned again at his good fortune at this amazing woman who had chosen him of all the people in the world and all the millenniums past. "Anything you say Pol."
"And you two," she said to the twins, who were lurking, trying not to be noticed. "We will deal with you later."
He could almost hear the gulp from the pair of them. Their imagination would do most of the punishment for them. And with that he was tugged very firmly and insistently out of the room by his wife.
Later, when all the discussions were over and it had turned into a happy reunion of friends unblighted by the mystery. UL had watched over the sheer vibrancy of life and personality as Eriond met the twins and they tried to get him to help them teach Della to transform to human. Then Belgarath got involved, and Geran wanted to show them an amazing hunting ground. Silence descended on the chamber, leaving the Wolf alone for a moment. Quietly, UL re-manifested there next to the creature.
"You have made thy choice, my Son?" he asked quietly. "And you are quite certain?"
"One is most content. Though it takes many years, I shall be with this one. He may love others and have children but there will come a day when he will realize," the Wolf offered with satisfaction.
"It will be a long time, my Son, before he is ready, and you are," UL warned.
"What is time to a wolf?" he replied. "If it is to be love, then time is nothing."
"Thou art my eldest and I am well pleased with thee, my son," UL approved even as Wolf looked after where Geran had gone. "As ever, you were one of the first to perceive thy Mother's design. Through sacrificing a people as worshippers, you see their value as individuals more keenly than your brothers. Be well, my son. You will not have to wait forever."
His Presence began to fade from the room, and Wolf got up and stretched.
"Thank you, Father," Aldur said aloud, and then hurried off to be with his chosen companion for as long as it took.