King Of The Murgos

by Eddings, David

  ‘“Behold also this truth; the rocks of the world and of all other worlds murmur continually of the two stones which lie at the center of the division. Once these stones were one, and they stood at the very center of all of creation, but, like all else, they were divided, and in the instant of division were they rent apart with a force that destroyed whole suns. And where these stones are found together, there surely will be the last confrontation between the two spirits. Now the day will come when all division will end and all will be made as one again—except that the division between the two stones is so great that they can never be rejoined. And in the day when the division ends shall one of the stones cease forever to exist, and in that day also shall one of the spirits forever vanish.”’

  ‘Are they trying to say that the Orb is only half of this original stone?’ Garion asked incredulously.

  ‘And the other half would be the Sardion,’ Belgarath agreed. ‘That would explain a great deal.’

  ‘I didn’t know there was any connection between the two.’

  ‘Neither did I, but it does sort of fit together, doesn’t it? Everything about this whole business has come in pairs from the very beginning—two Prophecies, two fates, a Child of Light and a Child of Dark—it only stands to reason that there’d have to be two stones, doesn’t it?’

  ‘And the Sardion would have the same power as the Orb,’ Polgara added gravely.

  Belgarath nodded. ‘In the hands of the Child of Dark, it could do just about anything that Garion can do with the Orb—and we haven’t even tested the limits of that yet.’

  ‘It gives us just a little more incentive to keep Zandramas from reaching the Sardion, doesn’t it?’ Silk said.

  ‘I already have all the incentive in the world,’ Ce’Nedra said sadly.

  Garion rose early the next morning. When he came out of the room he shared with Ce’Nedra, he found Belgarath seated at the table in the main room with the Book of Ages lying before him in the light of a guttering candle.

  ‘Didn’t you go to bed, Grandfather?’

  ‘What? Oh—no. I wanted to read this all the way through without any interruptions.’

  ‘Did you find anything helpful?’

  ‘A great deal, Garion. A very great deal. Now I know what Cyradis is doing.’

  ‘Is she really involved in this?’

  ‘She believes that she is.’ He closed the book and leaned back, staring thoughtfully at the far wall. ‘You see, these people—and the ones at Kell in Dalasia, believe that it’s their task to choose between the two Prophecies—the two forces that have divided the universe—and they believe that it’s their choice that’s going to settle the matter once and for all.’

  ‘A choice? That’s all? You mean that all they have to do is pick one or the other, and that’s the end of it?’

  ‘Roughly, yes. They believe that the choice has to be made during one of the meetings of the Child of Light and the Child of Dark—and both stones, the Orb and the Sardion, have to be present. Down through history, the task of making the choice has always been laid on just one of the seers. At every meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark, that particular seer has been present. I expect that there was one lurking about somewhere at Cthol Mishrak when you met Torak. At any rate, the task has finally fallen to Cyradis. She knows where the Sardion is and she knows when this meeting is going to take place. She’ll be there. If all the conditions have been met, she’ll choose.’

  Garion sat down in a chair by the dying fire. ‘You don’t actually believe all that, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Garion. We’ve spent our entire lives living out the pronouncements of the Prophecy, and it’s gone to a great deal of trouble to get me here and put this book into my hands. I may not entirely believe all this mysticism, but I’m certainly not going to ignore it.’

  ‘Did it say anything at all about Geran? What’s his part in all this?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It could be as a sacrifice—the way Agachak believes. Or, it’s possible that Zandramas abducted him just to force you to come after her and bring the Orb with you. Nothing is ever going to be settled until the Orb and the Sardion are brought together in the same place.’

  ‘The place which is no more,’ Garion added sourly.

  Belgarath grunted. ‘There’s something about that phrase that keeps nagging at me,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I can almost put my finger on it, but it keeps slipping away from me. I’ve seen it or heard it before, but I can’t seem to remember where.’

  Polgara came into the room. ‘You’re both up early,’ she said.

  ‘Garion is,’ Belgarath replied. ‘I’m up late.’

  ‘Did you stay up all night, father?’

  ‘It seems that way. I think that this was what I was waiting for.’ He laid his hand on the book in front of him. ‘As soon as the others get up, let’s pack and get ready to leave. It’s time for us to move on.’

  There was a light tap on the outer door. Garion rose, crossed the room, and opened it.

  Vard stood outside in the pale gray light of the dawning day. ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ he said.

  ‘Come in.’ Garion held the door open for him.

  ‘Good morning, Vard,’ Belgarath greeted the white-robed man. ‘I didn’t get the chance to thank you for this book.’

  ‘You must thank Cyradis for that. We gave it to you at her instruction. I think you and your friends should leave. There are soldiers coming.’

  ‘Malloreans.’

  Vard nodded. ‘There’s a column moving out from Rak Verkat. They’ll probably reach our village before noon.’

  ‘Can you give us a ship of any kind?’ Belgarath asked him. ‘We need to get to Mallorea.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be wise just now. There are also Mallorean ships patrolling the coast.’

  ‘Do you think they’re searching for us?’ Polgara asked.

  ‘It’s possible, Lady Polgara,’ Vard admitted, ‘but the commander at Rak Verkat has ordered these sweeps through the countryside before—usually to round up any Murgos who still might be hidden on the Isle. They stir around for a few days and then return to their garrison in Rak Verkat. If this present excursion is merely one of those periodic searches, the troops won’t be very thorough and they won’t be in this vicinity for long. As soon as they’re gone, you can come back here, and we’ll provide you with a ship.’

  ‘Just how extensive is that forest out there?’ Belgarath asked him.

  ‘It’s quite large, Ancient One.’

  ‘Good. Malloreans aren’t comfortable in forests. Once we get back into the trees, it shouldn’t be much of a problem to slip around them.’

  ‘You will need to avoid the hermit who dwells in the forest, however.’

  ‘The hermit?’

  ‘A poor deranged fellow. He’s not really an evil person, but he’s mischievous and he likes to play tricks on travelers.’

  ‘We’ll keep that in mind,’ Belgarath said. ‘Garion, go wake the others. Let’s get ready to leave.’

  By the time everything was ready for their departure, the sun had risen over the low range of hills to the east. Sadi looked out the door at the bright sunlight streaming over the village and sparkling on the waves in the harbor. ‘Where’s the fog when you need it?’ he asked of no one in particular.

  Belgarath looked around. ‘We’ve got about four hours until the Malloreans get here,’ he told them. ‘Let’s use that time to put some distance between us and this place.’ He turned to Vard. ‘Thank you,’ he said simply, ‘for everything.’

  ‘May all of the Gods be with you,’ the silvery-haired man replied. ‘Now go—quickly.’

  They rode out of the village and up across the meadow to the edge of the dark forest.

  ‘Any particular direction, old friend?’ Silk asked Belgarath.

  ‘I don’t think it matters all that much,’ the old man replied. ‘Probably about all we’re going to need is a thicket to hide in. Malloreans g
et nervous when they can’t see for a mile or so in every direction, so they aren’t very likely to search these woods too extensively.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can find,’ the little man offered. He turned his horse toward the northeast, but suddenly reined in sharply as two figures stepped out from among the trees. One was robed and cowled, and the other was a large, watchful man.

  ‘I greet thee, Ancient Belgarath,’ the hooded figure said in the clear voice of a woman. She lifted her face, and Garion saw that her eyes were bound with a dark strip of cloth. ‘I am Onatel,’ she continued, ‘and I am here to point out a safe path to thee.’

  ‘We’re grateful for your aid, Onatel.’

  ‘Thy path lies southward, Belgarath. Some small way into this wood thou wilt discover an ancient track, much overgrown. It will lead thee to a place of concealment.’

  ‘And have you seen what is to come, Onatel?’ Polgara asked. ‘Will the soldiers search this wood?’

  ‘Thou and thy companions are the ones they seek, Polgara, and they will search in all parts of the island, but they will not find thee and thy friends—unless it come to pass that someone doth point thee out to them. Beware of the hermit who doth dwell in this wood, however. He will seek to test thee.’ She turned then with one hand outstretched. The large man standing in the shadows took that groping hand and gently led her back into the forest.

  ‘How convenient,’ Velvet murmured. ‘Perhaps a little too convenient.’

  ‘She wouldn’t lie, Liselle,’ Polgara said.

  ‘But she’s not obliged to tell the whole truth, is she?’

  ‘You’ve got a very suspicious nature,’ Silk told her.

  ‘Let’s just say that I’m cautious. When a perfect stranger goes out of her way to help me, it always makes me a little nervous.’

  ‘Let’s go ahead and find this path of hers,’ Belgarath said. ‘If we decide later on to change direction, we can do it some place private.’

  They pushed into the shadows beneath the spreading evergreens. The forest floor was damp and thickly covered with fallen needles from the limbs overhead. The sun streamed down in long, slanting shafts of golden light, and the shadows had that faint bluish tinge of morning. The thick loam muffled the sound of their passage, and they rode in a kind of hushed silence.

  The track to which the seeress had directed them lay perhaps a mile back in the wood. It was deeply indented in the forest floor, as if at some time in the long-distant past it had been much traveled. Now, however, it lay unused, and weeds and grass had reclaimed it.

  As the sun mounted in the sky, the blue cast to the shadows beneath the trees faded, and a myriad of tiny insects swirled and darted in the shafts of sunlight. Then, quite suddenly, Belgarath reined in his horse. ‘Listen!’ he said sharply.

  From far behind them, Garion heard a series of sharp yelps.

  ‘Dogs?’ Sadi asked, looking nervously back over his shoulder. ‘Did they bring dogs to sniff out our trail?’

  ‘Those aren’t dogs,’ Belgarath told him. ‘They’re wolves.’

  ‘Wolves?’ Sadi exclaimed. ‘We must flee!’

  ‘Don’t get excited, Sadi,’ the old man told him. ‘Wolves don’t hunt people.’

  ‘I’d rather not chance that, Belgarath,’ the eunuch said. ‘I’ve heard some very alarming stories.’

  ‘That’s all they were—stories. Believe me, I know wolves. No self-respecting wolf would even consider eating a human. Stay here, all of you. I’ll go see what they want.’ He slid down out of his saddle.

  ‘Not too close to the horses, father,’ Polgara warned. ‘You know how horses feel about wolves.’

  He grunted and went off into the forest.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Sadi asked nervously.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe it,’ Silk replied.

  They waited in the cool dampness of the forest, listening to the faint yelping sounds and an occasional bell-like howl echoing among the trees.

  When Belgarath returned some time later, he was swearing angrily.

  ‘Whatever is the matter, father?’ Polgara asked him.

  ‘Somebody’s playing games,’ he retorted angrily. ‘There aren’t any wolves back there.’

  ‘Belgarath,’ Sadi said, ‘I can hear them. They’ve been yapping and howling on our trail for the past half-hour.’

  ‘And that’s all there is back there—just the noise. There isn’t a wolf within miles of here.’

  ‘What’s making all the noise, then?’

  ‘I told you. Somebody’s playing games. Let’s move on—and keep your eyes open.’

  They rode warily now, with the phantom baying filling the woods behind them. Then there came a sudden, high-pitched bellow from somewhere in front of them.

  ‘What’s that?’ Durnik exclaimed, reaching for his axe.

  ‘It’s an absurdity,’ Belgarath snapped. ‘Ignore it. It’s no more real than the wolves were.’

  But there was something swaying in the shadows beneath the spreading trees ahead—something gray and ponderously vast.

  ‘There! What is that thing?’ Ce’Nedra’s voice was shrill.

  ‘It’s an elephant, dear,’ Polgara told her calmly. ‘They live in the jungles of Gandahar on the east coast of Mallorea.’

  ‘How did it get here, then?’

  ‘It didn’t. It’s an apparition. Father was right. Someone in these woods has a very twisted sense of humor.’

  ‘And I’m going to show this comedian exactly what I think of his little jokes,’ Belgarath growled.

  ‘No, father,’ Polgara disagreed. ‘I think that perhaps you should leave it to me. You’re irritated, and that sometimes makes you go a little far with things. I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘Polgara—’ he started angrily.

  ‘Yes, father?’ Her look was cool and direct.

  He controlled himself with some effort. ‘All right, Pol,’ he said. ‘Don’t take any chances, though. This funny fellow might have some other tricks in his bag.’

  ‘I’m always careful, father,’ she replied. Then she moved her horse at a walk until she was several yards in advance of the rest of the party. ‘It’s a very nice elephant,’ she called into the woods as she eyed the huge gray shape swaying menacingly in the shadows ahead of her. ‘Have you anything else you might like to show us?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘You don’t seem very impressed,’ a rusty-sounding voice growled from somewhere nearby.

  ‘Well, you did make a few mistakes. The ears aren’t big enough, for one thing, and the tail is much too long.’

  ‘The feet and tusks are about right, though,’ the voice in the woods snapped, ‘as you’re about to find out.’

  The gray shape raised its huge snout and bellowed. Then it lumbered forward directly toward Polgara.

  ‘How tiresome,’ she said, making a negligent-appearing gesture with one hand.

  The elephant vanished in mid-stride.

  ‘Well?’ she asked.

  A figure stepped out from behind a tree. It was a tall, gaunt man with wild hair and a very long beard, with twigs and straw clinging to it. He was dressed in a filthy smock, and his bare legs were as white as fish-bellies, with knobby knees and broken veins. In one hand he carried a slender stick.

  ‘I see that you have power, woman,’ he said to her, his voice filled with an unspoken threat.

  ‘Some,’ she admitted calmly. ‘You must be the hermit I’ve heard about.’

  A look of cunning came into his eyes. ‘Perhaps,’ he replied. ‘And who are you?’

  ‘Let’s just say that I’m a visitor.’

  ‘I don’t want any visitors. These woods are mine, and I prefer to be left alone.’

  ‘That’s hardly civil. You must learn to control yourself.’

  His face suddenly twisted into an insane grimace. ‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ he screamed at her. ‘I am a God!’

  ‘Hardly that,’ she disagreed.

  ‘Feel the weig
ht of my displeasure!’ he roared. He raised the stick in his hand, and a glowing spark appeared at its tip. Suddenly, out of the insubstantial air, a monster leaped directly at her. It had scaly hide, a gaping muzzle filled with pointed fangs, and great paws tipped with needle-sharp claws.

  Polgara lifted one hand, palm outward, and the thing suddenly stopped and hung motionless in midair. ‘A trifle better,’ she said critically. ‘This one even seems to have a bit of substance to it.’

  ‘Release it!’ the hermit howled at her, jumping up and down in fury.

  ‘Are you really sure you want me to?’

  ‘Release it! Release it! Release it!’ His voice rose to a shriek as he danced about wildly.

  ‘If you insist,’ she replied. Slowly the slavering monster turned about in midair and then dropped to the ground. With a roar, it charged the startled hermit.

  The gaunt man recoiled, thrusting his wand out in front of him. The creature vanished.

  ‘You always have to be careful with monsters,’ she advised. ‘You never know when one of them might turn on you.’

  His mad eyes narrowed, and he leveled his stick at her. A series of incandescent fireballs burst from its tip, sizzling through the air directly at her.

  She held up her hand again, and the smoldering chunks of fire bounced off into the woods. Garion glanced at one and saw that it was actually burning, setting the damp needles on the forest floor to smoking. He put his heels to his horse’s flanks, even as Durnik also spurred forward, brandishing his cudgel.

  ‘Stay out of it, you two!’ Belgarath barked. ‘Pol can take care of herself.’

  ‘But, Grandfather,’ Garion protested, ‘that was real fire.’

  ‘Just do as I say, Garion. You’ll throw her off balance if you go blundering in there now.’

  ‘Why are you being so difficult,’ Polgara asked the madman who stood glaring at her. ‘All we’re doing is traveling through these woods.’

  ‘The woods are mine!’ he shrieked. ‘Mine! Mine! Mine!’ Again he danced his insane caper of fury and shook both his fists at her.

  ‘Now you’re being ridiculous,’ she told him.

  The hermit leaped backward with a startled exclamation as the ground directly in front of his feet erupted with a seething green fire and a boiling cloud of bright purple smoke.