The Brothers Tuerl
& The Staffs of Zeus
By Bryson Strupp
Copyright 2013 Bryson Strupp
Chapter 1-The Crowded Corridor
Irgen Tuerl, a young dark haired boy, strode purposefully up to the large, foreboding doors of Stonebridge High School. His jacket rustled softly in the wind as he reached for the door and wrenched it open. A faint orange glow from the inside lit up his handsome features, accentuating the determined look on his stone cold face. He peered cautiously inside the building, ready to bolt at the first sign of a teacher patrolling the corridors.
Silence awaited him, and he slowly let out a sigh of relief. Warily, he stepped quietly inside, carefully closing the door behind him. His thoughts enveloped him for a moment as he stood on the threshold of the school, then flexing his lean, powerful muscles; he crept stealthily forward into the quiet abyss before him.
After a time he veered his course from the main corridor and stealthily crept down a hallway to the left. As he walked toward the appointed meeting place, his features grew more and more relaxed. His fears of being double crossed dissipated like sand in the wind as the hallways before him yielded only empty space.
His pace quickened as he turned the last corner and found the appointed meeting place in front of him. This hallway was strangely dark. Lights stood as sentinels at either end of the corridor, but the hall itself was an empty chasm of shadows. Through the darkness, Irgen could see the outline of a motionless man standing alone in the middle of the corridor. Irgen marched tenaciously towards the silent figure before him. Even in the dark, Irgen could glimpse the slight shimmer from a bald spot in the man before him. He took a deep breath as his heart and stomach somersaulted with joy at seeing the imperfection in the opponent he was about to face.
He halted twenty feet in front of the motionless figure, and spoke with his assertively calm voice.
“Carson, are you sure you want to fight, if we’re caught, we’ll be in enough trouble just by being in the school this late.” He paused before softly adding “and you know you can’t beat me.” Silence met Irgen’s words, as he squinted at the figure before him. Suddenly a loud burst of laughter filled the hallway, but instead of coming from the man in front of him, it seemed to echo all around Irgen. He turned and found to his dismay, a few of Carson’s comrades plodding down the hallway behind him. He turned forward hoping to still have a way to escape, but found people emerging from the shadows in front of him as well.
They formed a circle around him, trapping him. The exuberant joy which had come to Irgen after seeing Carson’s bald spot had long since left. It was replaced now with a fear which threatened to make him hurl. Irgen closed his eyes and spoke, a surprisingly calm voice issued forth, soothing his hopeless senses.
“Ten on one?!” Irgen knew it wasn’t an accurate number, but he had to vent his irritation somehow. “This is a one on one fight. Come on you guys, I knew you were pretty dull and slow, but even I figured that you could still count.” Irgen felt slightly better after uttering the insult and looked coolly around the unnaturally (and unfortunately) crowded hallway, hoping to show by his artificial air that he was by no means disconcerted. The faces surrounding him; however, peered resiliently back at his defiant face. Irgen could not make out who they were in the eerie light.
“Actually, Irgen, there are eight of us.” Came Carson’s silkily, confident reply.
“It’s time you got what’s been comin’ for yah.” Yelled another voice in the shapeless mass which surrounded Irgen.
“Carson you’re a sick, disgusting coward if you need this many friends to give you the courage to fight me.” A slight flame flickered in Irgen’s velvet green eyes as he muttered these words in a barely audible whisper, but everyone in the crowd seemed to hear it. A shudder of anger pulsed through the crowd faster than a fire on a windy mountain. He could feel the anger building up around him as though gunpowder was being poured rapidly into a cannon, waiting only for the fuse to set it off.
He was still looking around him coolly but inside he knew that he needed to bide for more time. He knew this was a fight which, however athletic he might be, he could not win. He could only hope that the extraordinary binding link between his brother and himself would bring him on the scene with a few reinforcements.
He frantically searched inside himself for something that would cool the crowd down a little and keep Carson talking, but try as he might, his mind was only full of insults, which would probably have to wait for a separate occasion. Anxiously he emptied his mind and a thought occurred to him, but as so often happens on occasions such as this, just as he was about to speak Carson attacked. He flippantly tossed an enormous southpaw roundhouse at Irgen, which grazed his cheek as he jumped to the side to dodge it. As the hand was pulled back Irgen shot a glance at the crowd to see who else had joined the fray, but to his astonishment he saw many of them haphazardly scampering away down the hall.
Happiness came back into his soul as he caught sight of his brother, Idus, bolting along the corridor with a look of exasperation, defiance, and anger all rolled up into one on his face. It appeared to Irgen that he saw lightning flashing in Idus’ deep sea blue eyes. But that was all Irgen had time to see because just then he was brought back to his senses by Carson reached out with a jab from his right hand. Irgen turned back just in time to catch the punch squarely in the nose. Irgen paused for a quick second, slightly astonished at having actually been hit; suddenly anger erupted from his eyes like a fire spouting from a long dormant volcano. His right arm shot out with enormous force. He felt Carson’s face fold beneath his fist, and he knew he was out cold. He looked up and saw five of Carson’s friends scatter down the hall terrified of what he might do to them.
He turned again and saw Idus on the floor grappling with the last boy to have the courage to fight the two. Irgen watched as Idus’ veins pulsed out of his neck, as the gargantuan fury of a Tuerl was seen pulsating through him. Suddenly Idus picked up the other man and tossed him carelessly down the hallway like a rag doll. The group watched as the boy got up and hobbled away from the group as quickly as he could manage.
Irgen turned back to look at his brother. It was only then that he realized how similar they really were. They were twins, it is true, but they did not look similar. They had the same muscular build, and both were phenomenally handsome with beautiful eyes and a short straight nose, but that is where the similarities seemed to end. Idus was tall and had tan, bronze like skin.
Whereas Irgen stood about three inches shorter with hairier red arms. Their eyes were also different; Idus had deep sea blue eyes which seemed to radiate a sense of understanding and hope. Irgen had velvet green eyes which seemed to pierce you to the very core. Their hair was different as well. Whereas Idus’ was straight, black, and well-kept, Irgen’s was dark brown and curly. Their chins differed as well, for while Idus’ was strong and pronounced; Irgen’s hung back and barely came out as far as his lips. They also had an enormous personality difference, although they were both characteristically charismatic. Idus carried himself with a kind of benevolent silence about him. He thought before he acted. Irgen on the other hand was extremely reckless. He loved boldness and scorned prudence.
Both of the brothers were geniuses, and more than that they were extremely athletic geniuses, a very strange combination. But now as Irgen looked at his brother and the storm that flickered in his eyes, he felt he saw himself. He noticed the furrowed eyebrows, the veins sticking out of his body. He thought of how different they were and yet…He realized that they were the same, once you got down
past the outward countenance and got down to the heart you could see. They were one. An interesting feeling began to build in himself as he sat there thinking, and he thought perhaps this was why they had such a strong connection with one another. Perhaps this was why they knew when the other was in danger, or why they knew that the other was hiding something from another. Maybe this was why they felt…
“Irgen.”
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt at the sound of his brother’s melodious baritone voice (something they shared as well). Although now it was stern and unyielding, and he knew his brother was about to pass judgment on his actions.
“Irgen, I don’t understand you. Why did you have to go and run headlong into this fight? Did you really think that when Carson challenged you that he was just going to let you fight him alone, man to man. Let alone the fact you are fighting in the school, at midnight! Do you know how much trouble you would have been in if you had been caught or if Carson had just set you up? You’re a week away from your sixteenth birthday. You ought to know better. I’m afraid I’m not always going to be around to help you out of tight spots.”
Irgen felt a pang in the pit of his stomach, and he knew his brother was right. After the thrill and excitement of the fight these words made his revelry in their victory come to an abrupt end. He wanted to somehow express gratitude, but after these last words Idus turned on his heel and walked pointedly away. He left a depressed young man staring dejectedly at his disappointed, disappearing brother.
“Idus!” He yelled, but the shout landed on deaf ears.
The Brothers Tuerl & The Staffs of Zeus Page 1