Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  "I'm sorry, your Majesty, but that's about the best I can do. You can move information only as fast as a man on a good horse can carry it. That's always been the problem with large campaigns. I wish there were a faster way, but there isn't."

  He was wrong about that, of course. There is a faster way, but I couldn't explain it to him--not in terms that he'd understand, anyway.

  "I think you're in a bit of a quandary, General Cerran," Polgara said.

  "If Rhodar's report isn't accurate, Urvon could still come at you from the south, but if Kal Torak wins at Vo Mimbre, he'll be sitting on your northern border with nothing between him and Tol Honeth but a few unarmed peasants. At that point, you'll be looking at a repetition of what happened in Drasnia."

  That worried him a little bit, and it worried Ran Borune even more.

  The shrewd little emperor thought about it for a few moments.

  "How about a compromise here?" he asked finally.

  "I'm willing to listen, Ran Borune," Rhodar said.

  "Why don't we send half the legions to Arendia and leave the other half where they are?"

  "Will that be enough, Belgarath?" Rhodar asked.

  "It'll be touch and go," I replied dubiously.

  "Is that your Majesty's decision?" Cerran asked his emperor.

  "It covers both borders, but . . ." He left it in the air.

  "I don't see that we've got much choice, Cerran. We're going to have to protect ourselves on both sides."

  "I hate two-front wars," Cerran muttered. He scowled at the ceiling for a while.

  "Numerical superiority's largely a matter of appearances," he mused.

  "Less than half the troops are actually engaged, in most cases.

  The rest are held in reserve--usually where the opposing general can see them."

  "That's the way it normally works, yes," Rhodar agreed.

  "I do have some additional forces available," Cerran told us.

  "They aren't very well trained, they aren't in good condition, and I wouldn't want to venture any guarantees about how well they can fight, but they'll look impressive to Kal Torak."

  "Where did you come up with this phantom army of yours, Cerran?"

  Ran Borune asked him.

  "There are eight legions in the Imperial Garrison right here in Tol Honeth, your Majesty. They're fat and lazy, and they're mostly Honethites. No man's ever come up with a way to make real soldiers out of Honeths, but at least they'll swell our ranks at Vo Mimbre."

  "It's a start," Rhodar conceded.

  "I think I can go a little further," Cerran added.

  "There are twelve legion training camps here in the vicinity of Tol Honeth and seven more up near Tol Vordue. Those recruits probably can't even march in a straight line yet, but they have got uniforms. That'd give us the appearance of twenty-seven additional legions to beef up our reserves. If we pull half of the regular legions off the southern border and reinforce them with these pseudo-soldiers, Kal Torak's going to look out and see something in excess of seventy-five legions--and King Eldrig's berserkers--on his right flank. I think that'll get his attention."

  "General Cerran, you're a genius!" Ran Borune enthused.

  "You know, Belgarath," Rhodar said to me, "it might just work at that. Kal Torak's probably crazy, but Ad Rak Cthoros of Cthol Murgos isn't, and neither's Yar Lek Thun of the Nadraks. They're not going to let their armies be exterminated as long as there's a Mallorean presence on this continent. They might bow down to Kal Torak, but they aren't stupid enough to trust him. If it starts to look as if they're seriously outnumbered, I think they'll try to defect--or escape. I'll talk with Cho-Ram about it. If the Murgos and Nadraks start getting homesick, I don't think we should get in their way when they start back east."

  "What about the Thulls?" Cerran asked him.

  "The Thulls couldn't find their way home without guide dogs, General,"

  Rhodar replied, laughing.

  "Thulls have what you might call a very limited sense of direction. Thulls have a very limited grasp of just about anything. It takes the average Thull a half a day just to tie his shoes."

  "You gentlemen do realize that you're basing the fate of the world on an elaborate trick, don't you?" Polgara asked us.

  "It's a gamble, Lady Polgara," Rhodar admitted gaily, "but gambling's a lot of fun sometimes, and the higher the stakes, the more exciting it is."

  She sighed and rolled her eyes upward, but she didn't say anything.

  "It's about the best we can do, Belgarath," Ran Borune apologized.

  "The legions are all spread out along the River of the Woods. General Cerran can get the ones closest to the coast down to the mouth of the River of the Woods and the Cherek fleet in fairly short order. Those that are farther east would take too long to reach the coast to be of any use at Vo Mimbre anyway."

  "I'll take personal command of our forces in Arendia," Cerran added.

  "I might be able to persuade the Honeths to earn their pay for a change."

  "Well," I said, "if it's the best we can do, it'll have to be enough." I'm sure I sounded a little dubious, but I was actually quite pleased. Cerran's phantom army might very well be enough to persuade Kal Torak to accept Brand's challenge when the time came.

  Torak wasn't moving very fast. The weather still hadn't really returned to normal, and his army was slogging through foot-deep mud. He also stopped frequently to crush every fortified house, every castle, and every serfs' village he came across. The prisoners he took were turned over to the Grolims, of course. There were other things slowing him down, as well--little things like the Algars, the Drasnians, the Ulgos, and the Asturian bowmen. The upper reaches of the River Arend are heavily forested, so there were lots of opportunities for ambushes. I'd had some doubts about the enthusiasm of the Asturians, to be honest with you. Kal Torak was invading Mimbre, after all. But after Eldallan's bowmen had seen a few Angarak atrocities, their archery improved to the point that no place in the horde was truly safe from Asturian arrows, and Kal Torak of Mallorea took horrid casualties as he marched west toward Vo Mimbre.

  Beldin had flown north from the Desert of Araga, and he was with King Eldrig at the mouth of the River of the Woods. The Tolnedran Legions were drifting in, but it didn't seem to me that they were moving very fast. I didn't make an issue of that with General Cerran, though. I needed him, so I was careful not to be offensive.

  Eldrig was in the South with his fleet when the twins arrived in Tol Honeth with some additional clues they'd dredged out of the Mrin, but the rest of us still gathered in the Cherek embassy. If anyplace in Tol Honeth was secure from the prying eyes and ears of Ran Borune's spies, it was the Cherek embassy, and we were going to be talking about things that were none of Ran Borune's business. I rather like the Cherek embassy in Tol Honeth anyway. It's a homey, Alorn sort of place that's a welcome relief from marble-encased Tolnedran stuffiness. The chairs are rough-hewn and covered with fur, and the fireplaces are always going, even in the summertime. Chereks are convinced that they discovered fire, so blazing fireplaces are a sort of religious observance for them.

  Once we'd gathered in a fairly standard Alorn council chamber and the ambassador had sent his bully-boys through the building to weed out any spies, we got down to business. Beltira un cased one of the scrolls of the Mrin and read to us from it.

  "Behold!" he read.

  "It shall come to pass that the Dragon God shall be engaged before the golden city for three days, and then the Child of Light shall issue his challenge. And on the third day shall all be decided by the EVENT."

  "At least it won't be a protracted siege," Cho-Ram noted.

  "I'd been sort of hoping that it might be," I said. I went to the map and measured off some distances.

  "I think we'd better stop harassing Torak's rear and pull those troops back a bit. If we keep crowding him, he might not stop to regroup. He'll just rush out onto that plain around Vo Mimbre and start the assault on the city. Whether we like it or not, that'll
be the first day of that three-day battle the Mrin talks about, and I want Eldrig and Cerran to be a lot closer before things get that far along."

  "He might just go ahead and attack anyway, Belgarath," Rhodar pointed out.

  "He's the one with the calendar, so he knows when he has to be there. We don't. If he's running behind, he won't stop."

  "Logic suggests that he gave himself plenty of time, Rhodar," Pol disagreed.

  "A lot of things have to happen before the EVENT, and Torak knows that--probably even better than we do. Certain things are going to have to be in place before Brand can issue his challenge, and if Torak does anything to disrupt any of that, we'll have an entirely different EVENT--one that's probably not even mentioned in the Mrin or the Ashabine Oracles. At that point, nobody'll know what's going to happen."

  "We could just go ahead and throw everything we've got in his path,"

  Rhodar suggested.

  "That should delay him a bit."

  "But that'd put the battle someplace other than at Vo Mimbre,"

  Brand objected, "and the EVENT must take place there."

  "Well, father," Pol said to me, "are you going to make one of those great leaps of faith you keep talking about?"

  "I think I'm going to have to. You and I should probably go to Vo Mimbre and give Aldorigen some instructions. I don't want the Mimbrate knights to start feeling muscular and invincible. If they come charging out of the gates of Vo Mimbre before the legions and the Chereks are in place, they'll be obliterated. I think we're only going to have one chance at this, so we'd better get it right the first time. We've done all we can here, so you gentlemen had better take your leave of Ran Borune and go join your forces. We all know the signals and what we're supposed to do when they come. Pol and I'll go to Vo Mimbre and put a leash on Aldorigen. Then we'll just sit tight and wait for the Cherek fleet. Don't provoke any confrontations, but don't let Kal Torak lure you out of position, either."

  We all rose to our feet.

  "Good luck, gentlemen," Pol said gravely.

  Then the meeting broke up. The kings went across town to the Imperial Palace to advise Ran Borune that they were leaving, and then Cho-Ram and Rhodar rode west to swing around Kal Torak's left flank to join their armies in the mountains, while Brand and Ormik of Sendaria rode north to join theirs at the verge of the Arendish Forest.

  Pol and I lingered while I had a few words with the twins.

  "Try to keep Ran Borune from getting hysterical," I told them.

  "If he loses his nerve at this point, we'll be in trouble." Then Pol and I left the embassy, crossed the north bridge across the Nedrane, and went into a birch grove to change form.

  "I'm going to do something you aren't going to like, father," Pol told me.

  "I have to use Mother's form during all of this. I'm acting on instructions, so don't waste your time getting indignant."

  "I'll try to control myself," I replied. I knew a great deal more about what was going on than Ran Borune did, but there were still many things happening that I didn't know about. It was probably just as well, I suppose.

  If I'd known everything, I'd have been the one going into hysterics.

  The weather had begun to moderate--slightly. At least it wasn't perpetually raining anymore. The forces that had been building since Kal Torak had left Ashaba had reached their climax in the blizzard that had buried Urvon, but it would still take a while for things to settle back down to normal. The skies over northern Tolnedra and southern Arendia were still cloudy, and even though it was early summer, it wasn't really warming up very much.

  Pol and I reached Vo Mimbre in the middle of the night, and we settled down on the battlements of Aldorigen's palace. We waited until the steel-clad sentry had clanked past, and then we changed back into our own forms and descended to the dimly lighted throne room.

  "Why don't you let me handle this, father?" Polgara suggested.

  "I

  know Arends much better than you do, and I can explain things to Aldorigen in a way that won't offend him. You just sit there looking impressive and let me do the talking."

  "Gladly," I agreed.

  "Trying to talk with an Arend makes my teeth itch."

  "Oh, father!" Strangely enough, she said it almost affectionately.

  Dawn was murkily starting to peep through the windows of the throne room when the great doors opened and Aldorigen and his seven-teen-year-old son, Korodullin, entered. Pol and I were sitting back in a corner , so they didn't see us right at first.

  "He is a miscreant, sire,"

  Korodullin was saying hotly, "an outlaw. His presence here would profane the most sacred place in all Arendia."

  "I know that he is a scoundrel and a rogue, Korodullin, but I have given mine oath. Thou shalt not speak disparagingly unto him, nor offer him any impertinence whilst he is within the confines of Vo Mimbre. If thou canst not restrain thine are, remain in thy chambers until he doth depart. He will be here ere noon, and he and I must speak of diverse matters concerning the forthcoming battle. He will be here under safe-conduct, and no man--not even thou--shall stain mine honor by word or deed. I will have thy pledge to that effect, or I shall have thee confined."

  Korodullin drew himself up. He was a handsome young devil, I'll give him that, but his face was filled with anger, and it was frighteningly devoid of anything even remotely resembling good sense.

  "It shall be as my king commands," he grated out from between tightly clenched teeth.

  What was going on here?

  I'd have eavesdropped a bit longer, but Polgara was already moving down toward the dais where the two were standing.

  "Good morrow, your Majesty," she greeted Aldorigen with an exquisitely graceful curtsey.

  "Mine aged father and I have but recently arrived from Tol Honeth, and, though all bemused by the splendor of this most renowned of cities, have we come hither to consult with thee and to divulge unto thee certain information concerning that which hath come to pass which doth concern thee and thy realm most poignantly."

  How could she possibly manage to get all of that into one sentence?

  Aldorigen bowed deeply to her.

  "My poor city is honored by thy presence, divine Lady Polgara," he responded, "for thou, like the sun itself, do bring light and joy to all that thou look st upon." If you give a couple of Arends a little bit of leisure, they'll keep on exchanging involuted and increasingly complicated compliments for days on end. Once Polgara lapsed into the "thees" and "thous," her good sense went out the window, and she became an Arend to her fingertips. I knew that I'd just be wasting my breath if I tried to hurry them along, so I pulled a small, tightly wound scroll out from under my tunic, sat down in a chair not far from the dais, and tried to look studious and preoccupied.

  After about a half hour or so, during which my daughter and the so-called king of Arendia compared each other to suns, moons, rainbows, summer mornings, stars, eagles in flight, roaring lions, and gentle doves, Polgara got down to the point. She impressed the necessity of waiting for the signal to attack upon the witless Aldorigen by the simple expedient of repeating it over and over and over again, couching it in different similes or metaphors with each repetition. Gradually the light of understanding began to flicker, dimly, in his eyes.

  "Prithee, my Lord King," she protested,

  "I would not dare presume to give instruction to the paramount monarch of all this world . . ." And that went on for about another half hour as the two of them tried to outdo each other in a cloying display of humility. Then finally Pol got around to asking him what he and his son had been arguing about when they'd entered the throne room.

  "The miscreant Asturian, Eldallan, hath besought me that I provide him safe-conduct that he and I might confer at some length on diverse matters of concern to us both in regard to the forthcoming battle. Methinks, however, that there is some faint odor of subterfuge in his request.

  Our battle plans are clear, and they are not complex. There is no nee
d for this meeting."

  "The rogue hath seized this opportunity to spy out our defenses,"

  Korodullin asserted hotly.

  "He is Asturian, and therefore a knave by definition. Should the battle exhaust us, Eldallan will descend upon Vo Mimbre with all his might. Moreover, since he is Asturian, it is well within the realm of possibility that he hath concluded some secret accord with Kal Torak to betray us at a crucial moment during the battle."

  I sent my thought out to my daughter.

  "You'd better head that off immediately, Pol. This entire alliance is teetering in the balance here."

  "Right," she replied. She looked at the two of them with artfully feigned astonishment.

  "I can scarce believe mine ears," she told them.

  "Are ye truly so timid? Is the legendary bravery of Mimbrates no more than a sham? Doth the antagonism of a few Asturian outlaws so greatly concern ye? He, gentlemen, fie! These womanish suspicions bring shame upon the both of ye!"

  I almost choked. That wasn't the way I'd have done it. If that was Polgara's idea of the best way to smooth things over, she and I needed to have a long talk.

  Astonishingly, it worked. She continued to berate them until she had them squirming like a couple of embarrassed schoolboys, and then she let the matter drop.

  Duke Eldallan arrived on the stroke of noon, and he had his daughter, Mayaserana, with him. The implications of that were obvious. He was offering himself and his daughter up as hostages as proof of his good faith. Rather astonishingly, Aldorigen got his point immediately.

  Mayaserana had grown considerably since I'd last seen her. She was almost eighteen now, and astonishingly beautiful, a fact that Korodullin noticed right away. Her beauty was only slightly marred by the fact that her large, dark eyes were as hard as agates.

  "I'll get right to the point here, Aldorigen," Eldallan said briskly after he and his daughter had been escorted into the throne room under heavy guard.