Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  "I'm going to have to put my legions on my southern border."

  "We were fairly certain you'd feel that way about it," Pol murmured.

  I scratched at my beard.

  "It's still not a disaster," I told them.

  "We probably could use the help of the legions in Arendia, but I'd much rather they concentrated on keeping that second Mallorean column away from the battlefield. As I said before, we've still got time. Urvon won't get here overnight, and Kal Torak's going to have his own problems in Algaria. I think Pol and I'd better go to Sthiss Tor and have a talk with the Snake Woman. We don't want her to just open her borders to Urvon and stand aside while he marches through. I want to do everything I possibly can to upset Kal Torak's timetable."

  "Good luck," the emperor said.

  "I'd better summon my generals.

  We've got a lot of planning to do."

  "And Pol and I'd better leave for Nyissa. We'll see how things stand when we get back."

  My daughter and I reached Sthiss Tor two days later, long before the Nyissan Ambassador's message did, so there was a bit of delay before we were escorted into Salmissra's throne room. The Serpent Woman's response to our information was profoundly unenthusiastic.

  "Why should I involve myself in your war with the Angaraks?" she said, hardly bothering to take her eyes off her mirror.

  "It's not just our war, Salmissra," Pol told her.

  "It concerns all of us."

  "Not me, it doesn't. One of my predecessors discovered the folly of becoming involved in this private feud between the Alorns and the Angaraks. I'm not going to make that same mistake. Nyissa will remain neutral."

  "That option isn't open to you, Salmissra," I told her.

  "Urvon's army's going to show up on your southern border before very long, and Nyissa stands between him and Tolnedra."

  "So?"

  "He'll march right straight through your country."

  She shrugged.

  "Let him. I won't do anything to hinder him, so he won't have any reason to do to Nyissa what Kal Torak did to Drasnia."

  "Oh, yes he will," Pol disagreed.

  "Issa participated in the War of the Gods, remember? Torak has a very long memory, and he holds grudges.

  Urvon's army won't just march through. They'll destroy Nyissa as they go along. You're Issa's handmaiden, so I'd imagine Urvon's going to take special pains to find you so that the Grolims can cut out your heart."

  Salmissra's colorless eyes grew worried.

  "He wouldn't do that--not if I don't offer any resistance."

  "It's your heart, Snake Woman," Pol replied with a chilling kind of indifference.

  "What you do is your affair, Salmissra," I told her then.

  "We've told you what's coming. Deal with it in any way you see fit. If you do decide to fight, you might get in touch with Ran Borune. It's to his advantage to keep Urvon away from his southern border, so he might just lend you a few legions."

  "Would he do that?"

  "It wouldn't hurt to ask. Now, if you'll excuse us, my daughter and I have some business in Maragor."

  That turned out to be a complete waste of time. Pol and I flew to Mar Amon, hoping that the news of Torak's invasion would shake Mara out of his grief to some small degree, but I don't think the weeping God even heard us. He refused to listen, and his wails continued to echo from the mountains surrounding haunted Maragor.

  Finally we gave up and went on to Prolgu to talk with the Gorim.

  "He'll almost have to cross Ulgoland to reach Arendia, Holy One," I told the ancient man after Pol and I had explained the situation.

  "I know that your people are very religious, and they might be opposed to shedding blood, but this is an unusual situation."

  "I shall consult with Holy UL," he promised.

  "The circumstances might prompt him to set aside his distaste for violence."

  "That's entirely up to him, Gorim," I said with a faint smile.

  "I'm definitely not going to try to tell UL what to do. We'll keep you advised of what's happening. If you do decide to stay out of it, we'll give you enough warning so that you can seal up the mouths of your caves."

  "I appreciate that, Ancient One."

  Then Pol and I went back up through the caves to the ruins of Prolgu.

  "Now what?" she asked me.

  I considered it.

  "Since we're this close anyway, why don't we fly over and see how far Torak's managed to penetrate before we go back to Riva?

  And I'd also like to get some idea of just how big this army of his really is."

  "Whatever you say, father." It always makes me a little nervous when Pol agrees with me without any arguments.

  It was cloudy over Algaria, but at least it wasn't raining. You have no idea of how difficult it is trying to fly with wet feathers, and I've never really been comfortable as a duck. Ducks are probably no sillier than other birds, but they look so ridiculous.

  Beltira had told me that Torak had penetrated as far as Lake Atun in northern Algaria. That had been almost a week ago, however, and he'd come quite a bit farther south. He'd crossed the Aldur River upstream from Aldurford, and his army was spread out on the grasslands of central Algaria now. They weren't very hard to find, since there were quite a lot of them.

  They weren't moving very fast, however. Pol and I saw a number of engagements down there. As Beltira had said, Algar cavalry units were slashing at the flanks of that huge army, and their attacks went quite a bit farther than simple harassment. Algars are the finest horsemen in the world, and their long centuries of patient breeding had produced superb horses. In addition to the Malloreans, Torak's army also included Murgos, Nadraks, and Thulls, and those were the units that were bearing the brunt of the Algar attacks.

  They weren't very good at it, from what I saw. The Algars were simply too fast for them. Central Algaria is rolling country, and there are a lot of hills and grassy ravines that provide cover for the cavalry units. In most cases, the Angaraks didn't see the Algars coming until it was too late. Torak's army was moving slowly south, and the trail behind them was littered with their dead. That didn't mean anything to Kal Torak, of course, but it did seem to concern his generals. They weren't moving very fast, and they had whole platoons of scouts ranging out ahead and along the flanks. From what I was able to see, those scouts weren't getting very much information back to the generals. Like all cavalry units the world over, the Algars carried short bows in addition to their lances and sabers.

  A cavalry bow doesn't have the range that the long bows of the Asturian Arends have, but a man on a fast horse doesn't need range. He can get close enough to do the job. Not very many Angarak scouts returned.

  In effect, what was happening down there was a running battle, and it was very one-sided. Torak was taking appalling casualties, but he pressed on firmly. In addition to the scouts, the army had foragers out, looking for cows to feed that horde. The foragers were having an even worse time of it than the scouts were, since every herd of cattle they came across had dozens of Algar bowmen concealed in it. The Algars also amused themselves by stampeding cattle herds through the Mallorean ranks, and that slowed the advance even more.

  It was going to take Kal Torak a long time to reach the Stronghold.

  Those stampedes were effective, I'll grant you, but they goaded Torak's generals into an action that ultimately caused an economic disaster in the West. At first, the foragers had gone out to round up the cows, intending to drive them along as a moving food source. After a few of those stampedes, though, they started to kill every cow they came across.

  It was a long time after the war was over before the Algarian herds even reached a fraction of their former numbers. Beef was very scarce in the west for years.

  After we'd seen enough of that slow-moving battle, Pol and I turned and flew west toward Sendaria and the coast. I wanted to get back to Riva so that I could have a talk with Cho-Ram. The Mrin clearly stated that the Stronghold would
n't fall, but it never hurts to be careful. Garel was inside that fortress, after all.

  It was raining in Riva when we got there. Isn't that a surprise? The foul weather triggered by that eclipse had been very unusual elsewhere, but it's always raining in Riva.

  Ran Borune had sent word to the Alorn kings about Urvon's army, and they were very concerned about it.

  "Where are they right now?"

  Rhodar asked me when Pol and I joined them in our customary conference room.

  "I'm not sure," I replied.

  "Pol and I've been moving around quite a bit. The twins always stay in the Vale, so Beldin usually makes his reports to them. I'll talk with them about it later, but right now we've got some things to discuss and a few decisions to make. Then I want to go check out the defenses of the Stronghold."

  "The Stronghold's secure, Belgarath," Cho-Ram assured me.

  "You don't have to go there."

  "Just a precaution, Cho-Ram. What kind of a force have you got inside?"

  "Three clans and the Drasnian pike men we managed to rescue.

  There are plenty of people inside to hold it. Besides, the walls are thirty feet thick, and no scaling ladder in the world could reach the top of them."

  "I think that's what Fleet-foot had in mind when he designed the place," I told him.

  "We know that the Stronghold won't fall, but Torak's probably going to keep hammering at it for several years before he gives up. That gives us some time to get ready for his next move. The Mrin says that the final battle's going to be in Arendia, so it might not be a bad idea for us to move these sessions to Tol Honeth."

  "Why Tol Honeth?" Brand asked.

  "It's closer to the battleground, for one thing, and that's where the Tolnedran generals are, for another."

  "The Tolnedrans aren't going to be much use, Belgarath," Eldrig protested.

  "Ran Borune's going to be concentrating on his southern border.

  He's not going to send any legions to Arendia."

  "We're planning a campaign, Eldrig, and those Tolnedran generals know just about all there is to know about strategy and tactics. Their advice could be useful."

  "We're not completely incompetent, Belgarath," he objected.

  "We've won every war we've ever been in so far, haven't we?"

  "That's been pure luck, Eldrig. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but you Alorns have a habit of just making your wars up as you go along. Let's do this one professionally--just for the sake of novelty, if nothing else."

  It took Pol and me a little while to persuade the Alorn kings to go to Tol Honeth to seek the advice to the Tolnedran High Command, but they eventually agreed. Then my daughter and I left the Isle and flew across Sendaria, over Ulgoland, and on to the Algarian Stronghold. This time we didn't really have any choice. We had to use the form of ducks.

  I've referred to the Stronghold as a man-made mountain, and that comes fairly close. It looks like a walled city from the outside, but it's not, since there aren't any buildings inside. Such Algars as live there have constructed rooms and halls and corridors inside the walls themselves.

  The open space inside those walls is nothing more than an elaborate maze.

  A tragedy, however, had occurred. It was one of those stupid accidents that crop up from time to time. Garel, heir to the Rivan throne, had gone out horseback riding, and his horse had stumbled; Iron-grip's heir fell and broke his neck when he hit the ground. Idiocy! What in the name of all seven Gods was he doing on a horse?

  Fortunately, he'd already secured the succession; the line was still intact, although Gelane was only five years old. But that was all right.

  Everybody grows up--eventually.

  I spoke with the boy and found, that like all the rest, he had uncommonly good sense. We've been lucky in that. If stupidity had cropped up in the Rivan line, we'd have been in a great deal of trouble.

  "Can't I do something, grandfather?" the earnest little boy asked me.

  "This is my responsibility, after all." That startled me.

  "What did you tell him, Pol?" I asked suspiciously.

  "Everything, father," she replied calmly.

  "He's entitled to know what this is all about."

  "He doesn't need that information, Poll I thought we agreed to that."

  She shrugged.

  "I changed my mind. He is the Rivan King, father. If all our elaborate plans fall apart, he might have to take up the sword."

  "He's only a child, Pol. He couldn't even lift that sword."

  "We've got time, father. Torak hasn't even begun the siege yet."

  "The Mrin says that Brand's going to confront Torak. Gelane's not supposed to get involved."

  "The Mrin's very obscure, father, and sometimes things change. I want to be ready for any eventuality."

  "I really think I could handle it, grandfather," Gelane assured me.

  "I've got an Algar friend who's been teaching me how to use a sword."

  I sighed, and then I buried my face in my hands for a while.

  There wasn't really very much to do at the Stronghold except to wait for Torak. I suppose Pol and I could have left at any time, but I wanted to be absolutely certain that One-eye didn't change direction on me again.

  The invasion of Drasnia had caught me completely off guard, and I wasn't going to let that happen again. I wanted to make sure that he was completely committed before I went off and left him to his own devices. I also wanted to watch the defenders crush the first few assaults, just to make sure they knew what they were doing.

  Riders from the outlying clans came by frequently during the next two weeks to keep us posted. Torak was still advancing, and he showed no signs of veering off.

  Then, early one morning when dawn was turning the rain silver, Polgara's voice woke me from my fitful sleep.

  "I think you'd better come up here, father."

  "Where are you?"

  "I can't understand you, father. Just come up to the parapet on top of the north wall. There's something you'd better have a look at."

  I grumbled a bit, but I climbed out of bed and pulled on my clothes.

  What was she up to now? The fact that she couldn't understand me was a clear sign that she'd changed form. I went out into the torch-lit corridor outside my room and on up those interminable staircases that lead to the top of the Stronghold.

  There was a snowy owl perched on the rain-swept battlements.

  "I've asked you not to do that, Pol," I reminded her.

  She blurred and shimmered back into her own form.

  "I'm sorry, father," she said.

  "I'm not doing it to upset you. I'm following instructions.

  I think you'd better look at that," she told me, gesturing toward the north.

  I looked out over the battlements. The clouds overhead were dirty grey and dawn-stained. The rain had slackened to some degree, so it wasn't that solid curtain I'd been staring at for the past several weeks. At first I couldn't really see anything, but then a movement caught my eye about a mile out on that half-obscured plain. Then, as I looked harder, a mass of humanity seemed to grow out of the mist, a huge, faceless mass that stretched from horizon to soggy horizon.

  Kal Torak had reached the Stronghold.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  "Are you sure Torak's with them?" I asked, still staring out at that slow-moving army.

  "Yes, father. I went out and looked.

  That iron pavilion of his is right in the center of the crowd."

  "You did what? Polgara, that's Torak out there! Now he knows you're here!"

  "Don't get excited, Old Man. I was told to do it. Torak had no way of even knowing I was there. He's inside his pavilion, and Zedar's with him."

  "How long has this been going on?"

  "Since he left Mallorea, I'd imagine. Let's go alert the Algars, and then I think we'll have time for some breakfast. I've been up all night, and I'm positively ravenous."

  It was midmorning by the time the Angara
ks had completed their encirclement of the Stronghold and noon before they tried their first tentative assault. The Algars and the Drasnian pike men stayed out of sight, and I think that unnerved Kal Torak's generals just a bit. They'd hauled their siege-engines into place, and they started out by trying to loft boulders into the city. That didn't work out very well, because the walls were too high. I could see their engineers feverishly trying to adjust the catapults to change their trajectory.

  Then, more I think to get some sort of response from the defenders than out of any hope of success, they mounted an attack on the front gate.

  They rolled up battering rams, but that wasn't really necessary. The gate wasn't locked. The first troops through the gate were Thulls. Thulls always seem to get the dirty jobs in Angarak society.

  I'm not even sure that the Thulls realized what they'd encountered when they burst through the gate. As I've said before, the Stronghold isn't a city in the usual sense. Those enormous walls don't enclose houses and public buildings, they enclose an elaborate maze of narrow, high-walled corridors without a roof in sight. The Thulls rushed in, and all they found was geometry. They found corridors laid out in straight lines, in curved lines, in lines so complex that they turned back on themselves and almost seemed to dissolve off into unimaginable dimensions.

  The defenders allowed the Thulls to mill around inside that maze for about an hour, and then they rose from their places of concealment atop those twenty-foot-high interior walls and obliterated the intruders.

  And the Mallorean generals and the kings of the western Angarak nations still hadn't seen a single defender. They didn't see the horde of Thullish soldiers again either. They'd sent several thousand men through the gate, and not one of them ever came back out again--at least not through the gate.

  During the following night, however, they did start seeing the men they had ordered inside. The Algar catapultists atop the walls began lofting dead Thulls into the middle of the Angarak encampment. It's very hard to get any sleep when it's raining Thulls.

  The next day, the second siege got under way. There were three Algar clans inside the Stronghold. The rest of them were outside. Kal Torak had encircled the Stronghold, and then the free-roving Algar horsemen encircled him. They didn't take up positions or dig in fortifications the way besiegers usually do, because cavalry doesn't work that way.