Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  Baron Lathan’s army was just north of Sulturn by now, and the watch-fires made his camp easy to find. I made my last jump to an open hilltop about a half-mile from his picket-lines. Then I looked around carefully, reached into my bodice, and retrieved my champion. I carefully set him down on the grass, reversed the process that’d reduced him, and then said, ‘Wake up, dearest one.’

  His eyes opened, and he wiped at his brow. ‘It seemeth to me that I have been in some place that was quite warm,’ he noted.

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. I didn’t think it was necessary to tell him exactly where he’d spent the last half-hour. Now that I think about it, it probably had been quite warm there.

  He looked around. ‘Precisely where are we, my beloved?’ he asked.

  ‘Just north of Sultum, dearest,’ I replied. That’s Lathan’s camp down there in the valley.’

  ‘I have slept long, it would appear.’

  ‘About a half-hour,’ I said. ‘Don’t start counting miles and minutes, dear heart. It’ll only give you a headache. Let’s just say it was one of “those things” and let it go at that.’

  ‘I shall be guided by thee in this, beloved.’

  ‘Good. You’ll have to identify yourself at the picket-line. Throw your rank around if you have to. We must speak with Lathan just as soon as possible.’

  He squared his shoulders, offered me his arm, and we went on down the hill. It only took us about ten minutes to bull our way through the Wacite encampment to Baron Lathan’s tent. His orderly recognized Ontrose and immediately awakened our sleeping friend. ‘Ontrose?’ Lathan said, rubbing at his eyes. ‘I had thought that thou wert in Seline.’

  ‘I was there no more than an hour ago, my friend,’ Ontrose told him. ‘I am the most fortunate of men, for I have at my disposal a miraculous means of transport.’ He smiled fondly at me.

  ‘Your Grace,’ Lathan said, scrambling out of his cot.

  ‘Let’s just set aside formalities, Baron,’ I suggested. ‘We have a problem which we must immediately address. Tell him, Ontrose.’

  ‘Of a certainty, your Grace.’ Then my champion looked at his friend. ‘Our problem is simple to describe, Lathan,’ he said. “The solution may prove more difficult. In short, our revered Lady Polgara here hath applied her incomprehensible talent to the sometimes tedious process of gathering information. She but recently went forth to ascertain the precise location of the Asturian fleet.’

  Lathan’s face grew wary at that point.

  ‘Needless to say,’ Ontrose continued, ‘she did succeed. The location of that fleet, however, doth baffle me. Her Grace doth assure me that Garteon’s ships do stand at anchor no more than ten leagues to the north of Camaar.’

  I was watching Lathan closely, and he didn’t really seem all that surprised to me. I was right on the verge of sending out a probing thought.

  ‘No, Pol,’ mother’s voice interrupted me. ‘Let Ontrose do it. He has to find this out for himself.’

  ‘Find what out for himself?’ I demanded silently.

  ‘You’ll see.’ Then she was gone.

  ‘Her Grace and I have struggled with this at some length,’ Ontrose was saying, ‘and, recalling that thou wert in Asturia and that it wast thou who didst uncover this scheme, did we conclude that thou might be best qualified to unravel this peculiar turn of events. Mine own reasoning is somewhat pedestrian, I fear me. My best surmise gropingly suggested that this pause can only be explained by some grander plan. It seemeth to me that some date must have significance in Garteon’s overall scheme.’

  ‘I cannot fault thy reasoning, Ontrose,’ Lathan conceded, ‘and indeed I, whilst I was in Vo Astur, did catch some hint of just such a fascination with the calendar. I had not the time, however, to pursue it.’

  ‘Let us reason together, old friend,’ Ontrose suggested. ‘If a given date doth have such significance that a pause is dictated, doth that not imply that someone else is reading that self-same calendar?’

  ‘It doth indeed, Ontrose!’ Lathan exclaimed. I seemed to detect a slightly false note in his enthusiasm, however.

  Then Ontrose, caught up in the momentum of his own reasoning, pursued it one step further. ‘But to whom would that calendar be of such interest, Lathan? If Garteon’s army is truly on board those ships, who is there left in Asturia to read calendars with such interest?’

  Lathan’s change of expression was so slight that I very nearly missed it. It was no more than a slight tightening around his eyes. ‘Look out, Ontrose!’ I shouted.

  Clearly, Baron Lathan was about two steps ahead of my champion, and he knew exactly where his friend’s line of thought would take him. He spun quickly and seized his sword from off the bench at the foot of his cot. Then he whirled, raising his sword to strike down my beloved.

  I think, however, that Ontrose had not been quite so far behind Lathan as he might have appeared, for even as Lathan’s sword began its fatal descent, the sword of Ontrose came whispering out of its sheath and caught Lathan’s in mid-stroke.

  ‘And now is all made clear, Lathan,’ Ontrose said sadly. ‘All except why.’

  Lathan swung his sword again, and Ontrose easily parried the stroke. Quite obviously, my champion didn’t need any help from me. I stepped back out of the way.

  I’d hardly call what happened a fair fight. Lathan’s only chance had been that desperate first attack. After that failed, he didn’t really have any chance at all. Moreover, his expression quite clearly said that he knew he was going to lose. I got the uneasy feeling that he really preferred it that way.

  It was noisy. A fight involving broadswords always is. The noise, naturally, attracted attention. My only contribution to the affair involved the tent where it was taking place. It still looked like a canvas tent, but steel is quite a bit softer than that tent was after I ‘modified’ it. I saw to it that there wouldn’t be any interruptions.

  The end of the sword fight was announced by a gush of bright blood bursting forth from Baron Lathan’s mouth as my champion’s sword slid smoothly through his right lung. Lathan stiffened, dropped his sword, and then collapsed.

  Ontrose was weeping when he knelt at his friend’s side. ‘Why, Lathan, why hast thou done this?’

  Lathan coughed up more blood, and I knew from that visible sign that his wound was mortal and that there was nothing I could do to save his life. ‘It was to end my suffering, Ontrose,’ he said in a barely audible voice.

  ‘Suffering?’

  ‘Agony, Ontrose. I confess freely, now that I am nearly free, that I did love – and still do love – our Lady Polgara. Thou didst wrest her from me at that accursed tourney, and my heart hath been dead within me since that day. Now do I gladly go to endless sleep, but I shall not sleep alone. Wacune shall die with me, and all else that I love.’

  ‘What hast thou done, Lathan?’ Ontrose demanded in a horrified voice.

  Lathan coughed up more blood. ‘I have betrayed thee – and all of Wacune.’ His voice was growing weaker. ‘All unobserved did I go into Asturia and did speak with Garteon and a foreign advisor of his whose name I did not ask.’

  ‘Foreign?’ I asked sharply.

  ‘A Nadrak, methinks – or perchance a Murgo. He it was who devised our deception. The fleet which did depart from Vo Astur eight days ago was no more than a sham – a ploy to deceive Wacune and Erat. There are no troops on board those ships. Garteon’s army doth wait in the forest not two leagues from Wacune’s western frontier.’ He coughed weakly again.

  ‘When?’ Ontrose pressed. ‘When will they invade Wacune?’

  ‘Two days hence, Ontrose.’ Weak though he was, Baron Lathan’s voice had a note of triumph in it. ‘That tenth day from the departure of the sham fleet doth loom large upon Garteon’s calendar, for upon that day shall his force march into Wacune, and, all unobstructed, shall they march to the alabaster city, which doth stand, helpless and unprotected, in their path. Vo Wacune is doomed, Ontrose, my beloved – and hated – friend. Though I am mortally wo
unded by thy welcome sword-thrust, I have set mine answering stroke already in motion. Four days hence shall the Asturians mount their attack upon the undefended walls of Vo Wacune, and no force at thy command can reach the city in time to prevent its fall.’ He began coughing up large amounts of blood. ‘I die, Ontrose,’ he said in no more than a whisper, but I do not die alone. My life hath been a burden unto me from that day when thou didst unkindly wrench beloved Polgara from my grasp. Now may I lay down that burden and go gladly into my grave, knowing that I will not go alone. All that I have loved shall go with me, and only Lady Polgara, immortal and unassailable, shall be left behind to echo her howls of grief ‘gainst the walls of heaven. It is done, and I am content.’

  Then he firmly shut his lips and fixed his eyes upon my face with a look of unspeakable longing.

  And then he died, and Ontrose wept.

  I silently cursed myself for my inattention. There had been a hundred clues that I had completely missed. I should have known

  I went quickly to the door of the tent. ‘Gather the officers!’ I commanded the Wacites who’d been vainly trying to bull their way into the tent. ‘We have been betrayed! Treason hath left Vo Wacune helpless and undefended!’ Then I remembered that these men were Wacite peasants. ‘Pull yerselves t’gether, me boy-os! We’ve got us work t’ do, don’t y’ know.’

  Then I turned back to look at my weeping champion. “That’s enough, Ontrose!’ I snapped. ‘Get up on your feet!’

  ‘He was my friend, Polgara!’ he wept, ‘and I killed him!’

  ‘He deserved killing. You should have killed him during the tournament. On your feet! Now

  He looked startled, but he obeyed.

  ‘That’s better. Turn this army around and start it moving south immediately. I’ll go tell Halbren what’s happened and start him south as well. Move, Ontrose! Move! We’ve got a long way to go and not much time.’

  He gestured toward Lathan’s body. ‘What of my friend here?’ he asked me.

  ‘Drop him in a ditch somewhere – or leave him where he lays. He’s nothing but garbage, Ontrose. Dispose of him as you would any other garbage. I’ll be back in about an hour, and then you and I are going to Vo Wacune. We’ve got a war to fight down there.’ Then I left the tent.

  Once I was out of earshot of the encampment, I allowed myself a few moments to speak – colorfully – about the situation. Lathan’s treason had quite nearly succeeded. There was no possible way I could get reinforcements to Vo Wacune in time to defend the city. Quite obviously, I was going to have to do it ‘the other way’. Right at that moment, I rather liked that idea. The image of a cheese-grater came to mind, and this time, I would use it, whether mother liked it or not.

  I translocated myself north, hop-scotching my way from hilltop to hilltop to General Halbren’s camp on the shore of Lake Sendar. Halbren, as always, showed no particular surprise when I told him of Lathan’s treason. I honestly believe that Halbren could have watched the sky falling with no overt expression of surprise. ‘Their plan is flawed, your Grace,’ he told me calmly.

  ‘It sounds fairly devastating to me, Halbren.’

  The capture of a city is but the first step, your Grace,’ he explained. ‘The Asturians may indeed take Vo Wacune, but the combined armies of Wacune and Erat shall arrive there only a few days later, and we have overwhelming force. Believe me, your Grace, we can re-take the city any time we choose, and after we’ve finished, Garteon won’t have enough men left to patrol the streets of Vo Astur.’

  ‘You’re just going to give up Vo Wacune?’ I demanded incredulously.

  ‘It’s only a city, your Grace – a collection of pretty buildings. The important thing about a war is winning it, and we will win this one. After it’s over, we can rebuild Vo Wacune. It’ll give us a chance to straighten the streets, at least.’

  ‘You’re impossible, Halbren,’ I accused. ‘Start your men south. I’m going to take Ontrose on down to Vo Wacune. Don’t start drawing city maps just yet, though. I think I know of a way to hold off the Asturians until our forces get there.’

  Then I went on back to Lake Sulturn, found Ontrose, and took him out a ways from the already moving Wacite army. I repeated the procedure I’d used before, and I deposited my champion in the same secure place. I rather liked having him there, to be honest about it.

  The dawn of the ninth day on that Asturian calendar was dawning when we arrived in Vo Wacune. I took my slumbering hero out of his convenient resting place and returned him to his normal size. Then I woke him up, and we entered the city. We went directly to Andrion’s palace told him of Lathan’s treason.

  ‘We are doomed!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Not quite, Andrion,’ I assured him. ‘I’m going to have to call in reinforcements, though, I think.’

  ‘What force is close enough to come to our aid, Polgara?’

  ‘My father, Andrion, and he doesn’t have to be close to get here in a hurry.’

  ‘Thou dost propose to defend the walls of Vo Wacune with sorcery?’

  ‘It isn’t really illegal, Andrion. I think that between us, father and I can hold off the Asturians until our armies arrive. Father can be very nasty when he sets his mind to it, and I can be even worse. By the time we’re done, the very mention of Vo Wacune will give every Asturian for the next thousand years screaming nightmares. You and Ontrose had better alert the city garrison and make some preparations. I’ll go home and summon my father, and then I’m going to bed. I haven’t slept for three days, and I’m positively exhausted.’

  I reached my town house and went into my library, firmly closing the door behind me. The Killaneson family knew by now what that meant and they didn’t disturb me. Before I could go searching for father, however, mother came searching for me. ‘Polgara!’ she said sharply. ‘The Mimbrates are going to invade southern Wacune at first light tomorrow morning.’

  ‘What?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘The northern Mimbrate barons have allied themselves with Garteon, and they’ll come north to join the Asturian army in the siege of Vo Wacune.’

  ‘So that’s what it’s been all about,’ I said as it came crashing in on me. ‘The Asturians pulled us out of position so that they could attack Vo Wacune with Mimbrate allies to help them.’

  ‘Don’t repeat the obvious, Pol,’ mother said. ‘You’d better get word of this to your father. The way things stand, Vo Wacune hasn’t a chance of surviving. He’s the only one who can help you right now. He’s in his tower in the Vale. Hurry, Pol!’

  ‘Father!’ I sent my thought out to him, casting it out my library window at a sky which had been obscured by an incoming storm. ‘I need you!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ his thought came back almost immediately. I took that to be a good sign. For once, he’d been home when I called. “The Asturians are right on the verge of breaking the peace here in Arendia. Duke Garteon of Asturia has formed an alliance with the barons of northern Mimbre. The barons are invading Wacune from the South.’

  ‘Where’s your army?’

  ‘Most of it’s in Central Sendaria in response to an Asturian ruse. We’ve been lured out of position, father, and Vo Wacune’s in grave danger. I need help here. We’re right on the verge of losing everything I’ve worked for.’

  ‘I’ll get there as quickly as I can, Pol,’ he promised.

  That made me feel quite a bit better, and I closed my window as the storm broke over Vo Wacune.

  There’s no question that our situation was grave. Our armies were on the march, but there was no way they could reach Vo Wacune in time to stave off the Asturian assault on the city, and by the time our forces did arrive, the Mimbrates would already be here to reinforce Garteon’s army. As is so often the case, everything hinged on time.

  I spent the remainder of that blustery night in my library considering the situation. The Arendish mind was locked in stone on certain issues. The soul of any domain lies in its capital. Mimbre would not exist without that golden fortress on th
e River Arend; Asturia would be meaningless without Vo Astur; and the Wacite duchy derived almost entirely from the delicate, soaring towers of Vo Wacune. It was that peculiarity which had persuaded me not to establish a capital city in my own duchy. My domain had no center. The destruction of the city of Erat would have angered me, but it would not have devastated me. I realized clearly that if Vo Wacune were to fall, Wacune would no longer exist. Within a few generations, it would only be a fading memory. Saving the city was an absolute imperative.

  The summer storm which had descended upon us, unlike most storms of that season, did not blow off with the dawn, but continued to blow and rain and make life generally miserable.

  This was that fatal tenth day, however, so I pulled on my cloak and went to the palace to see how things were progressing. I found Andrion and Ontrose deep in discussion. ‘Father’s on his way, gentlemen,’ I advised them. ‘This weather’s probably going to slow him down, though.’

  ‘It will also, it seemeth to me, delay the march of our own forces from thy duchy,’ Andrion added.

  Then, as matters now stand, must we defend our city with such force as is available to us here,’ Ontrose concluded. ‘The task, methinks, will be formidable, but not impossible.’ They were worried enough already, so I decided to keep the information about the Mimbrates to myself for the time being.

  The wind and rain continued for the next two days, and that somewhat slowed Garteon’s advance on Vo Wacune. At least he wasn’t right outside our walls at daybreak when the bad weather finally passed on through and the sun came out again. Father reached the city about noon, and he found Ontrose and me arguing in my still-damp rose-garden. My beloved mail-shirted champion was doing his level best to persuade me to leave Vo Wacune before it was too late. ‘It must be, Polgara,’ he urged me. “Thou must go from Vo Wacune to a place of safety. The Asturians are almost at the city gates.’ In spite of everything I’d told him about my planned reception of Garteon’s forces, he was still worried about my safety.