Sorceress of Darshiva

by David Eddings

  ‘Did you work this out all by yourself?’ Belgarath asked.

  ‘It gave me something to speculate about while I was watching the cave where Zedar had hidden Torak.’

  ‘It took you five hundred years, then?’

  ‘I wanted to be sure I’d covered all the possibilities.’ Beldin shrugged.

  ‘Why didn’t you just ask Pol? She could have told you immediately.’

  Beldin blinked. ‘I never thought of that,’ he admitted.

  Belgarath walked away, shaking his head.

  Some time later, they heard a sudden, screeching bellow coming from the west through the murky sky.

  ‘Everybody get down!’ Belgarath hissed. ‘And keep quiet!’

  ‘What is it?’ Zakath exclaimed.

  ‘Be still!’ Beldin snapped. ‘She’ll hear you!’

  From overhead there came the flap of vast wings and a sooty orange billow of fire. Then the huge beast flew on, screeching and belching out flames.

  ‘What was it?’ Zakath repeated.

  ‘Zandramas,’ Garion whispered. ‘Keep your voice down. She might come back.’

  They waited.

  ‘She seems to be going toward all the noise Pol kicked up,’ Belgarath said in a low voice.

  ‘At least she’s not looking for us,’ Silk said with some relief.

  ‘Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘That wasn’t actually a dragon, was it?’ Zakath asked the old man.

  ‘No, not really. Garion was right. It was Zandramas. That’s her other form.’

  ‘Isn’t it just a bit ostentatious?’

  ‘Zandramas seems to have urges in that direction. She can only go for so long without doing something spectacular. It might have something to do with the fact that she’s a woman.’

  ‘I heard that, Belgarath,’ Ce’Nedra’s voice came threateningly from the far side of the clearing.

  ‘Maybe it didn’t come out exactly the way I’d intended,’ he half apologized.

  The snowy owl came drifting through the forest of dead trees. She hovered for a moment near the fire, then shimmered back into her own form.

  ‘What did you do out there, Pol?’ Belgarath asked her.

  ‘I found a dormant volcano,’ she replied, taking her cloak from Durnik and wrapping it around her shoulders. ‘I reignited it. Did the Hounds go off to investigate?’

  ‘Almost immediately,’ Garion assured her.

  ‘So did Zandramas,’ Silk added.

  ‘Yes, I saw her.’ She smiled faintly. ‘It worked out rather well, actually. When she gets there, she’ll probably find the Hounds slinking around and decide to do something about them. I don’t think they’ll be bothering us any more, and I’m sure Zandramas would be filled with chagrin if she found out that she’s helping us.’

  ‘Were you that clumsy on purpose, Pol?’ Beldin asked her.

  ‘Of course. I wanted to make enough noise to draw off the Hounds—and any Grolims who might be in the area. Zandramas was just a bonus. Could you build up the fire again, dear?’ she said to Durnik. ‘I think it’s safe now to start thinking about supper.’

  They broke camp early the next morning. Polgara’s volcano was still belching smoke and ash high into the air where they mingled with the pervading overcast to cause a sullen kind of gloom. The murky air reeked of sulfur.

  ‘Flying in that isn’t going to be very enjoyable,’ Beldin said sourly.

  ‘We need to know what’s ahead,’ Belgarath told him.

  ‘I know that,’ Beldin replied. ‘I’m not stupid, you know. I was just making an observation.’ He bent slightly, changed form, and drove himself into the air with powerful strokes of his wings.

  ‘I’d pay a fortune to have a hawk like that,’ Zakath said wistfully.

  ‘You might have trouble training him,’ Belgarath said. ‘He’s not the most tractable bird in the world.’

  ‘And the first time you tried to hood him, he’d probably rip off one of your fingers,’ Polgara added.

  It was nearly noon when Beldin returned, flying hard. ‘Get ready!’ he shouted almost before he had completed the change. ‘Temple Guardsmen—about ten—just over that rise! They’re coming this way and they’ve got a Hound with them!’

  Garion reached for his sword, and he heard Zakath’s blade come whistling out of its sheath. ‘No!’ he said sharply to the Mallorean. ‘Stay out of it!’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Zakath replied.

  ‘I’ll take care of the dog,’ Sadi said, reaching into the pouch at his belt for some of the powder he had used so effectively in Karanda.

  They spread out with their weapons in their hands as Eriond led the women to the rear.

  The Hound came over the hill first, and it stopped when it saw them. Then it wheeled and loped back.

  ‘That’s it,’ Belgarath said. ‘They know we’re here now.’

  The Guardsmen came over the top of the hill at a rolling trot. Garion noticed that they weren’t carrying lances, but each mail-clad man held a sword and wore a shield. They paused for a moment to assess the situation, then they charged. The Hound came first, running smoothly and with his lips peeled back from his teeth in a fearful snarl. Sadi spurred forward to meet him, holding a fistful of the powder. When the Hound reared up on his hind legs to drag the eunuch from his saddle, Sadi coolly hurled the powder full into the animal’s face. The Hound shook his massive head, trying to clear his eyes. Then he sneezed once. His eyes grew wide, and his snarl turned into a terrified whimper. He shrieked suddenly, a dreadful, half-human sound. Then he turned and fled, howling in terror.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Garion barked, and he charged toward the oncoming Guardsmen. These were more serious opponents than the Darshivan soldiers had been, so the choices in dealing with them were greatly reduced. One, somewhat larger than his fellows and astride a heavy-bodied warhorse, was leading the charge, and Garion cut him out of his saddle with a single stroke of Iron-grip’s great sword.

  Garion heard the sound of steel on steel off to his left, but he dared not take his eyes off the still-charging Guardsmen. He chopped two more from their saddles, and Chretienne crashed into the horse of a third, sending the rider and his mount tumbling. Then Garion was through the ranks of their enemies, and he wheeled around.

  Zakath was being hard pressed by two mailed men. He had, it appeared, already felled a third; but then the other two had come at him, one from either side. Garion kicked at Chretienne’s flanks, intending to go to his friend’s aid, but Toth was already there. With one huge hand he plucked one of Zakath’s attackers from his saddle and hurled him headfirst at a large boulder at the side of the road. Zakath turned on his other enemy, deftly parried a couple of strokes, then smoothly ran the man through.

  Silk’s daggers were already doing their deadly work. One Guardsman was aimlessly riding around in a circle, doubled over in his saddle and clutching at the dagger hilt protruding from his stomach. The acrobatic little Drasnian then leaped from his horse and landed behind the saddle of a confused Guardsman. With a wide sweep of his arm, Silk drove a dagger into the side of the man’s neck. Blood gushed from the Guardsman’s mouth as he fell to the ground.

  The remaining two armored men tried to flee, but Durnik and Beldin were already on them, clubbing at them with cudgel and axe. They tumbled senselessly from their horses and lay twitching in the dirt of the road.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Garion asked Zakath.

  ‘I’m fine, Garion.’ The Mallorean was breathing hard, though.

  ‘Your training seems to be coming back to you.’

  ‘I had a certain amount of incentive.’ Zakath looked critically at the bodies littering the road. ‘When this is all over, I think I’ll order this organization disbanded,’ he said. ‘The notion of private armies offends me for some reason.’

  ‘Did any of them get away?’ Silk asked, looking around.

  ‘Not a one,’ Durnik told him.

  ‘Good. We wouldn’t want somebody going for help.’ Silk f
rowned. ‘What were they doing this far south?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably trying to stir up enough trouble to draw the Darshivan troops away from Urvon’s main body,’ Belgarath replied. ‘I think we’ll have to be alert from now on. This whole area could be crawling with soldiers at any time now.’ He looked at Beldin. ‘Why don’t you have a look around?’ he said. ‘See if you can find out what Urvon’s up to and where the Darshivans are. We don’t want to get caught between them.’

  ‘It’s going to take a while,’ the hunchback replied. ‘Darshiva’s a fairly large place.’

  ‘You’d better get started, then, hadn’t you?’

  They took shelter that night in the ruins of another village. Belgarath and Garion scouted the surrounding region, but found it to be deserted. The following morning, the two wolves ranged out ahead of the rest of the party, but again they encountered no one.

  It was almost evening when Beldin returned. ‘Urvon outflanked your army,’ he told Zakath. ‘He’s got at least one general who knows what he’s doing. His troops are in the Dalasian Mountains now, and they’re coming south at a forced march. Atesca had to stay near the coast to meet the Darshivans and their elephants.’

  ‘Did you see Urvon?’ Belgarath asked him.

  Beldin cackled an ugly little laugh. ‘Oh, yes. He’s absolutely mad now. He’s got two dozen soldiers carrying him on a throne and he’s doing parlor tricks to demonstrate his divinity. I doubt if he could focus enough of his will right now to wilt a flower.’

  ‘Is Nahaz with him?’

  Beldin nodded. ‘Right beside him, whispering in his ear. I’d say he needs to keep a tight grip on his plaything. If Urvon starts giving the wrong orders, his army could wind up wandering around in those mountains for a generation.’

  Belgarath frowned. ‘This doesn’t exactly fit,’ he said. ‘Every bit of information we picked up pointed to the probability that Nahaz and Mordja were concentrating on each other.’

  ‘Maybe they’ve already had it out,’ the hunchback shrugged, ‘and Mordja lost.’

  ‘I doubt it. That sort of thing would have made a lot of noise, and we’d have heard it.’

  ‘Who knows why demons do anything?’ Beldin scowled, scratching at his matted hair. ‘Let’s face it, Belgarath,’ he said. ‘Zandramas knows that she has to go to Kell, and so does Nahaz. I think this is turning into a race. We’re all trying to be the first one to get to Cyradis.’

  ‘I get the feeling that I’m overlooking something,’ Belgarath said. ‘Something important.’

  ‘You’ll think of it. It might take you a couple of months, but you’ll think of it.’

  Belgarath ignored that.

  The heavy pall of smoke and ash began to subside as evening drew on, but the prevailing gloom of thick overcast remained. Darshiva was still a land of dead trees, fungus, and stagnant water. Increasingly, that last became a problem. The supplies of water they had carried with them from the Mallorean camp on the shores of the Magan had long since been exhausted. As night fell, the others continued along the road, and Belgarath and Garion ranged ahead as wolves again, searching this time not so much for trouble as for fresh water. Their sharp noses easily detected the stale reek of long-standing pools, and they passed them without slowing.

  It was in a blasted forest of long-dead trees that Garion encountered another wolf. She was gaunt and bedraggled, and she limped painfully on her left front paw. She looked at him warily, baring her teeth in warning.

  He sat down on his haunches to show his peaceable intent.

  ‘What is it you do here?’ she asked him in the language of wolves.

  ‘I am going from one place to another place,’ he replied politely. ‘I have no intention to hunt in the place which is yours. I seek only clean water to drink.’

  ‘Clean water comes from the ground on the other side of that high place.’ She glanced toward a hill deeper in the forest. ‘Drink your fill.’

  ‘I have others with me as well,’ he told her.

  ‘Your pack?’ She came cautiously closer to him and sniffed. ‘You have the scent of the man-things about you,’ she accused.

  ‘Some of those in my pack are man-things,’ he admitted. ‘Where is your pack?’

  ‘Gone,’ she told him. ‘When there were no longer creatures to hunt in this place, they went into the mountains.’ She licked at her injured foot. ‘I could not follow.’

  ‘Where is your mate?’

  ‘He no longer runs or hunts. I visit his bones sometimes.’ She said it with such simple dignity that a lump caught in Garion’s throat.

  ‘How do you hunt with that hurt in your paw?’

  ‘I lie in wait for unwary things. All are very small. I have not eaten my fill for many seasons.’

  ‘Grandfather,’ Garion sent his thought out. ‘I need you.’

  ‘Trouble?’ the old man’s thought came back.

  ‘Not that kind. Oh, I found water, by the way, but don’t come in here running. You’ll frighten her.’

  ‘Her?’

  ‘You’ll understand when you get here.’

  ‘To whom were you speaking?’ she asked.

  ‘You heard?’ He was startled.

  ‘No, but your manner was that of one who was speaking.’

  ‘We can talk of that after some time has passed. My pack-leader is coming to this place. He must make the decisions.’

  ‘That is only proper.’ She lay down on her belly and continued to lick at her paw.

  ‘How did you come to be hurt?’

  ‘The man-things conceal things beneath the leaves. I stepped on one of those things, and it bit my paw. Its jaws were very strong.’

  Belgarath came trotting through the dead forest. He stopped and dropped to his haunches, his tongue lolling out.

  The she-wolf laid her muzzle submissively on the ground in a gesture of respect.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Belgarath’s thought came to Garion.

  ‘She caught her foot in a trap. Her pack left her behind, and her mate died. She’s crippled and starving.’

  ‘It happens sometimes.’

  ‘I’m not going to leave her behind to die.’

  Belgarath gave him a long, steady look. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘I don’t imagine you would—and I’d think less of you if you did.’ He approached the she-wolf. ‘How is it with you, little sister?’ he asked in the language of wolves, sniffing at her.

  ‘Not well, revered leader,’ she sighed. ‘I will not hunt much longer, I think.’

  ‘You will join my pack, and we will see to your hurt. We will bring you such meat as you require. Where are your young? I can smell them on your fur.’

  Garion gave a startled little whine.

  ‘There is but one remaining,’ the she-wolf replied, ‘and he is very weak.’

  ‘Take us to him. We will make him strong again.’

  ‘As you decide, revered leader,’ she said with automatic obedience.

  ‘Pol,’ Belgarath sent out his thought. ‘Come here. Take your mother’s form.’ The note of command in his voice was incisive and far more wolflike than human.

  There was a startled silence. ‘Yes, father,’ Polgara replied. When she arrived a few moments later, Garion recognized her from the characteristic white streak above her left brow. ‘What is it, father?’ she asked.

  ‘Our little sister here is hurt,’ he replied. ‘It’s her left front paw. Can you fix it?’

  She approached the she-wolf and sniffed at the paw. ‘It’s ulcerated,’ she said with her thought. ‘Nothing seems to be broken. Several days with a poultice ought to do it.’

  ‘Fix it, then. She also has a puppy. We’ll need to find him as well.’

  She looked at him, a question in her golden eyes.

  ‘She and her puppy are joining our pack. They’ll be going with us.’ Then he sent his thought to her. ‘It’s Garion’s idea, actually. He refuses to leave her behind.’

  ‘It’s very noble, but is it practical?’
>
  ‘Probably not, but it’s his decision. He thinks it’s the right thing to do, and I more or less agree with him. You’re going to have to explain some things to her, though. She doesn’t have much reason to trust man, and I don’t want her to go into a panic when the others catch up with us.’ He turned to the she-wolf. ‘Everything will be well again, little sister,’ he told her. ‘Now, let us go find your young one.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The half-grown pup was so emaciated that it could not stand, so Polgara resorted to the simple expedient of picking it up by the scruff of its neck between her jaws and carrying it out of the den.

  ‘Go meet the others,’ she instructed Garion. ‘Don’t let them get too close until I’ve had time to talk with our little sister here. Bring back food, though. Put as much as you can carry in a sack and come right back.’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Pol.’ He loped back toward the road, changed into his own form, and waited for his friends.

  ‘We’ve got a little bit of a problem,’ he told them when they arrived. ‘We’ve found an injured female just up ahead in those woods. She’s starving, and she has a young one as well.’

  ‘A baby?’ Ce’Nedra exclaimed.

  ‘Not exactly,’ he said, going to one of the food packs and beginning to load a stout canvas bag with meat and cheese.

  ‘But you just said—’

  ‘It’s a puppy, Ce’Nedra. The female is a she-wolf.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a wolf. She got her paw caught in a trap. She can’t run, so she can’t hunt. She’ll be coming with us—at least until her paw heals.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts. She’s coming with us. Durnik, can you work out some way we can carry her without having the horses go wild?’