Thursday, October 26, 2006
Mine. Chapter 1 Part 6
“Dear sister, you should know not to play with Mort’s mind”
“Yes little one, it’s akin to setting your target to low”
Mort turned to see Urwin and Urlete behind him. Although fraternal twins, and different genders, the two were nearly identical in appearance. Long dark brown hair curled to their shoulders. Dark green eyes, dappled with grey staring out from under thin brows. Both were of a height with Oneida, yet seemed less. Their rail thin frames and narrow stature made them appear as half the size as the rest of their siblings.
A former weapons tutor had once commented to them “Even added together, you’re still less than a whole person”.
He was neither the first, nor last person to make that mistake.
Each individually was nearly a match for Mort in physical combat. They were both viper quick, with a steel corded strength. It was only in weapon choice where the two seemed to disagree. Urwin favored the broadsword. In his two-handed grip the formidable weapon looked enormous, yet moved with a deadly grace. Urwin had created his own style of fighting with the weapon, a series of steps, spins, thrusts and swipes that made the blade never stop, gathering enough momentum to cut armored practice dummies in half without slowing.
Urlete favored no weapons at all. Although equal to Urwin’s use in all, except the broadsword, she preferred to fight barehanded. With slightly less arm strength than her siblings, she made up for the lack with speed and focus. None of them could hope to equal her weaponless. In truth, most of them could not best her with a weapon, while she remained empty handed.
Separated, they were arguably as skilled as any in the land could claim. Together, none could match them. They communicated in the way of twins, unspoken, gesture-less conversations worth volumes of words could occur with a glance. The weapons tutor that had commented on them lasted less than 10 seconds when he first sparred with them. A champion fighter in his homeland, he fell quickly to the 12 year old pair.
The twins were fast and silent. Their tongues were nearly as cutting as a blade. Many of the playmates of the siblings had felt the sting of words from the twins. All of their siblings were used to the caustic sarcasm they exuded. They were five when their youngest sister was born. Every morning, they had climbed to sit on the edges of her crib, chattering to each other, in the small quiet voices. Once, their mother had asked of them “Why do you perch above the baby, my dear birds?”
“We’re waiting for her to be fun” was the reply.