"Then she'd be my great-aunt," Garion said with a faint in spark of hope. It was something, at least.
"I don't know that I'd use that precise term around her." Wolf grinned. "She might take offense. Why are you so concerned about all of this?"
"I was afraid that maybe she'd just said that she was my Aunt, and that there wasn't really any connection between us at all," Garion said. "I've been afraid of that for quite a while now."
"Why were you afraid?"
"It's kind of hard to explain," Garion said. "You see, I don't really know who or what I am. Silk says I'm not a Sendar, and Barak says I look sort of like a Rivan - but not exactly. I always thought I was a Sendar - like Durnik - but I guess I'm not. I don't know anything about my parents or where they come from or anything like that. If Aunt Pol isn't related to me, then I don't have anybody in the world at all. I'm all alone, and that's a very bad thing."
"But now it's alright, isn't it?" Wolf said, your Aunt really is your Aunt - at least your blood and hers are the same."
"I'm glad you told me," Garion said. "I've been worried about it."
Greldik's sailors untied the hawsers and began to push the ship away from the quay.
"Mister Wolf," Garion said as a strange thought occurred to him.
"Yes, Garion?"
"Aunt Pol really is my Aunt - or my Great-Aunt?"
"Yes."
"And she's your daughter."
"I have to admit that she is," Wolf said wryly. "I try to forget that sometimes, but I can't really deny it."
Garion took a deep breath and plunged directly into it. "If she's my Aunt, and you're her father," he said, "wouldn't that sort of make you my Grandfather?"
Wolf looked at him with a startled expression. "Why yes," he said, laughing suddenly, "I suppose that in a way it does. I'd never thought of it exactly like that before."
Garion's eyes suddenly filled with tears, and he impulsively embraced the old man. "Grandfather," he said, trying the word out.
""Well, well," Wolf said, his own voice strangely thick. "What a remarkable discovery." Awkwardly he patted Garion's shoulder.
"They were both a little embarrassed by Garion's sudden display of affection, and they stood silently, watching as Greldik's sailors rowed the ship out into the harbor.
"Grandfather," Garion said after a little while.
"Yes?"
"What really happened to my mother and father? I mean, how did they die?"
Wolf's face became very bleak. "There was a fire," he said shortly.
"A fire?" Garion said weakly, his imagination lurching back from that awful thought - of the unspeakable pain. "How did it happen?"
"It's not very pleasant," Wolf said grimly. "Aew you really sure you want to know?"
"I have to, Grandfather," Garion said quietly. "I have to know everything I can about them. I don't know why, but it's very important."
Mister Wolf sighed. "Yes, Garion," he said, "I guess it would be at that. All right, then. If you're old enough to ask the questions, you're old enough to hear the answers." He sat down on a sheltered bench out of the chilly wind. "Come over here and sit down." He patted the bench beside him.
Garion sat down and pulled his cloak around him.
"Let's see," Wolf said, scratching thoughtfully at his beard, "where do we start?" He pondered for a moment. "Your family's very old, Garion," he said finally, "and like so many old families, it has a certain number of enemies."
"Enemies?" Garion was startled. That particular idea hadn't occurred to him before.
"It's not uncommon," Wolf said. "When we do something someone else doesn't like, they tend to hate us. The hatred builds up over the years until it turns into something almost like a religion. They hate not only us, but everything connected with us. Anyway, a long time ago your family's enemies became so dangerous that your Aunt and I decided that the only way we could protect the family was to hide it."
"You aren't telling me everything," Garion said.
"No," said Wolf blandly, "I'm not. I'm telling you as much as it's safe for you to know right now. If you knew certain things, you'd act differently, and people would notice that. It's safer if you remain ordinary for a while longer."
"You mean ignorant," Garion accused.
"All right, ignorant then. Do you want to hear the story, or do you want to argue?"
"I'm sorry," Garion said.
"It's all right," Wolf said, patting Garion's shoulder. "Since your Aunt and I are related to your family in rather a special way, we were naturally interested in your safety. That's why we hid your people."
"Can you actually hide a whole family?" Garion asked.
"It's never been that big a family," Wolf said. "It seems, for one reason or another, to be a single, unbroken line - no cousins or uncles or that kind of thing. It's not all that hard to hide a man and wife with a single child. We've been doing it for hundreds of years now. We've hidden them in Tolnedra, Riva, Cherek, Drasnia - all kinds of places. They've lived simple lives - artisans mostly, sometimes ordinary peasants - the kind of people nobody would ever look at twice. Anyway, everything had gone well until about twenty years ago. We moved your father, Geran, from a place in Arendia to a little village in eastern Sendaria, about sixty leagues southeast of Darine, up in the mountains. Geran was a stonecutter - didn't I tell you that once before?"
Garion nodded. "A long time ago," he said. "You said you liked him and used to visit him once in a while. Was my mother a Sendar then?"
"No," Wolf said. "Ildera as an Algar, actually - the second daughter of a Clan Chief. Your Aunt and I introduced her to Geran whenthey were about the right age. The usual sort of thing happened, and they got married. You were born a year or so afterward."
"When was the fire?" Garion asked.
"I'm getting to that," Wolf said. One of the enemies of your family had been looking for your people for a long time."
"How long?"
"Hundreds of years, actually."
"That means he was a sorcerer, too, doesn't it?" Garion asked. "I mean, only sorcerers live for that long, don't they?"
"He has certain capabilities along those linesm" Wolf admitted. "Sorcerer is a misleading term, though. It's not the sort of thing we actually call ourselves. Other people do, but we don't exactly think of it that way. It's a convenient term for people who don't really understand what it's all about. Anyway, your Aunt and I happened to be away when this enemy finally tracked down Geran and Ildera. He came to their house very early one morning while they were still sleeping and he sealed up the doors and windows. And then he set it on fire."
"I thought you said the house was made of stone."
"It was," Wolf said, "but you can make stone burn if you really want to. The fire just has to be hotter, that's all. Geran and Ildera knew there was no way they could get out of the burning building, but Geran managed to knock one of the stones out of the wall, and Ildera pushed you out through the hole. The one who started the fire was waiting for that. He picked you up and started out of the village. We could never be sure exactly what he had in mind - either he was going to kill you, or maybe he was going to keep you for some reason of his own. At any rate, that's when I got there. I put out the fire, but Geran and Ildera were already dead. Then I went after the one who'd stolen you."
"Did you kill him?" Garion demanded fiercely.
"I try not to do that more than I have to," Wolf said. "It disrupts the natural course of events too much. I had some other ideas at the time - much more unpleasant than killing." His eyes were icy. "As it turned out though, I never got the chance. He threw you at me - you were only a baby - and I had to try to catch you. It gave him time to get away. I left you with Polgara and then I went looking for your enemy. I haven't been able to find him yet, though."
"I'm glad you haven't," Garion said.
Wolf looked a little suprised at that.
"When I get older, I'm going to find him," Garion said, "I think I ought to be the one who pays hi
m back for what he did, don't you?"
Wolf looked at him gravely. "It could be dangerous," he said.
"I don't care. What's his name?"
"I think that maybe I better wait a while before I tell you that," Wolf said. "I don't want you jumping into something before you're ready."
"But you will tell me?"
"When the time comes."
"It's very important, Grandfather"
"Yes," Wolf said. "I can see that."
"Do you promise?"
"If you insist. And if I don't, I'm sure your Aunt will. She feels the same way you do."
"Don't you?"
"I'm much older," Wolf said. "I see things a little differently."
"I'm not that old yet," Garion said. "I won't be able to do the kind of things you'd do, so I'll have to settle for just killing him." He stood up and began to pace back and forth, a rage boiling in him.
"I don't suppose I'll be able to talk you out of this," Wolf said, "but I really think you're going to feel differently about it after it's over."
"Not likely," Garion said, still pacing.
"We'll see," Wolf said.
"Thank you for telling me, Grandfather," Garion said.
"You'd have found out sooner or later anyway," the old man said, "and it's better that I tell you than for you to get a distorted account from someone else."
"You mean Aunt Pol?"
"Polgara wouldn't deliberately lie to you," Wolf said, "but she sees things in a much more personal way than I do. Sometimes that colors her perceptions. I try to take the long view of things. I could take - under the circumstances."
Garion looked at the old man whose white hair and beard seemed somehow luminous in the morning sun. "What's it like to live forever, Grandfather?" He asked.
"I don't know," Wolf said. "I haven't lived forever."
"You know what I mean."
"The quality of life isn't much different," Wolf said. "We all live as long as we need to. It just happened that that I have something to do that's taken a very long time." He stood up abruptly. "This conversation's taken a gloomy turn," he said.
"This thing that we're doing is very important, isn't it, Grandfather?" Garion asked.
"It's the most important thing in the world right now," Wolf said.
"I'm afraid I'm not going to be very much help," Garion said.
Wolf looked at him gravely for a moment and then put one arm round his shoulders. "I think you may be suprised about that before it's all over, Garion," he said.
And then they turned and looked out over the prow of the ship at the snowy coast of Cherek sliding by on their right as the sailors rowed the ship south towards Camaar and whatever lay beyond.
Here ends Book One of the Belgariad. Book Two, Queen of Sorcery
will reveal Garion's own dangerous powers of sorcery and more on his heritage, which underlies their quest.
-- Queen of Sorcery (1982) --
For Helen,
who gave me the most precious thing in my life,
and for Mike,
who taught me how to play.
PROLOGUE
Being an Account of the Battle of the Kingdoms of the West against the most heinous Invasion and Evil of Kal Torak.
-based upon The Battle of Vo Mimbre
IN THE YOUTH of the world, the evil God Torak stole the Orb of Aldur and fled, seeking dominion. The Orb resisted, and its fire maimed him with a dreadful burning. But he would not give it up, for it was precious to him.
Then Belgarath, a sorcerer and disciple of the God Aldur, led forth the king of the Alorns and his three sons, and they reclaimed the Orb from the iron tower of Torak. Torak sought to pursue, but the wrath of the Orb repelled him and drove him back.
Belgarath set Cherek and his sons to be kings over four great kingdoms in eternal guard against Torak. The Orb he gave to Riva to keep, saying that so long as a descendant of Riva held the Orb the West would be safe.
Century followed century with no menace from Torak, until the spring of 4865, when Drasnia was invaded by a vast horde of Nadraks, Thulls, and Murgos. In the center of this sea of Angaraks was borne the huge iron pavilion of one called Kal Torak, which means King and God. Cities and villages were razed and burned, for Kal Torak came to destroy, not to conquer. Those of the people who lived were given to the steel-masked Grolim priests for sacrifice in the unspeakable rites of the Angaraks. None survived save those who fled to Algaria or were taken from the mouth of the Aldur River by Cherek warships.
Next the horde struck south at Algaria. But there they found no cities. The nomadic Algarian horsemen fell back before them, then struck in vicious hit-and-run attacks. The traditional seat of the Algarian kings was the Stronghold, a man-made mountain with stone walls thirty feet thick. Against this, the Angaraks hurled themselves in vain before settling down to besiege the place. The siege lasted for eight futile years.
This gave the West time to mobilize and prepare. The generals gathered at the Imperial War College in Tol Honeth and planned their strategy. National differences were set aside, and Brand, the Warder of Riva, was chosen to have full command. With him came two strange advisers: an ancient but vigorous man who claimed knowledge even of the Angarak kingdoms; and a strikingly handsome woman with a silver lock at her brow and an imperious manner. To these Brand listened, and to them he paid almost deferential respect.
In the late spring of 4875, Kal Torak abandoned his siege and turned west toward the sea, pursued still by Algar horsemen. In the mountains, the Ulgos came forth from their caverns by night and wreaked fearful slaughter on the sleeping Angaraks. But still were the forces of Kal Torak beyond counting. After a pause to regroup, the host proceeded down the valley of the River Arend toward the city of Vo Mimbre, destroying all in its path. Early in the summer, the Angaraks deployed for the assault upon the city.
On the third day of the battle, a horn was heard to blow three times. Then the gates of Vo Mimbre opened, and the Mimbrate knights charged out to fall upon the front of the Angarak horde, the iron-shod hoofs of their chargers trampling living and dead. From the left came Algar cavalry, Drasnian pikemen, and veiled Ulgo irregulars. And from the right came the Cherek berserks and the legions of Tolnedra.
Attacked on three sides, Kal Torak committed his reserves. It was then that the gray-clad Rivans, the Sendars, and the Asturian archers came upon his forces from the rear. The Angaraks began to fall like mown wheat and were overcome by confusion.
Then the Apostate, Zedar the Sorcerer, went in haste to the black iron pavilion from which Kal Torak had not yet emerged. And to the Accursed One he said, "Lord, throe enemies have thee surrounded in great numbers. Yea, even the gray Rivans have come in their numbers to cast defiance at thy might."
Kal Torak arose in anger and declared, "I will come forth, that the false keepers of Cthrag Yaska, the jewel which was mine, shall see me and know fear of me. Send to me my kings."
"Great Lord," Zedar told him, "thy kings are no more. The battle hath claimed their lives and those of a multitude of thy Grolim priests as well."
Kal Torak's wrath grew great at these words, and fire spat from his right eye and from the eye that was not. He ordered his servants to bind his shield to the arm on which he had no hand and he took up his dread black sword. With this, he went forth to do battle.
Then came a voice from the midst of the Rivans, saying, "In the name of Belar I defy thee, Torak. In the name of Aldur I cast my despite in thy teeth. Let the bloodshed be abated, and I will meet thee to decide the battle. I am Brand, Warder of Riva. Meet me or take the stinking host away and come no more against the kingdoms of the West."
Kal Torak strode apart from the host and cried, "Where is he who dares pit his mortal flesh against the King of the World? Behold, I am Torak, King of Kings and Lord of Lords. I will destroy this loud-voiced Rivan. Mine enemies shall perish, and Cthrag Yaska shall again be mine."
Brand stood forth. He bore a mighty sword and a shield muffled with cloth. A g
rizzled wolf marched at his side, and a snowy owl hovered over his head. Brand said, "I am Brand and I will contend with thee, foul and misshapen Torak."
When Torak saw the wolf, he said, "Begone, Belgarath. Flee if thou wouldst save thy life." And to the owl he said, "Abjure thy father, Polgara, and worship me. I will wed thee and make thee Queen of the World."
But the wolf howled defiance, and the owl screeched her scorn. Torak raised his sword and smote down upon the shield of Brand. Long they fought, and many and grievous were the blows they struck. Those who stood near to see them were amazed. The fury of Torak grew great, and his sword battered the shield of Brand until the Warder fell back before the onslaught of the Accursed One. Then the wolf howled and the owl shrieked in one voice together, and the strength of Brand was renewed.
With a single motion, the Rivan Warder unveiled his shield, in the center of which stood a round jewel, in size like the heart of a child. As Torak gazed upon it, the stone began to glow and flame. The Accursed One drew back from it. He dropped his shield and sword and raised his arms before his face to ward away the dread fire of the stone.
Brand struck, and his sword pierced Torak's visor to strike into the eye that was not and plunge into the Accursed One's head. Torak fell back and gave a great cry. He plucked out the sword and threw off his helmet. Those who watched recoiled in terror, for his face was seared by some great fire and was horrible to behold. Weeping blood, Torak cried out again as he beheld the jewel which he had named Cthrag Yaska and for which he had brought his war into the West. Then he collapsed, and the earth resounded with his fall.
A great cry went up from the host of the Angaraks when they saw what had befallen Kal Torak, and they sought to flee in their panic. But the armies of the West pursued them and slew them, so that when the smoky dawn broke on the fourth day, the host was no more.
Brand asked that the body of the Accursed One be brought to him, that he might behold him who would be king of all the world. But the body was not to be found. In the night, Zedar the Sorcerer had cast an enchantment and passed unseen through the armies of the West, bearing away the one he had chosen as master.
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