Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  Belgarath looked around. "We've got about four hours until the Malloreans get here," he told them. "Let's use that time to put some distance between us and this place." He turned to Vard. "Thank you," he said simply, "for everything."

  "May all of the Gods be with you," the silvery-haired man replied. "Now go—quickly."

  They rode out of the village and up across the meadow to the edge of the dark forest.

  "Any particular direction, old friend?" Silk asked Belgarath.

  "I don't think it matters all that much," the old man replied. "Probably about all we're going to need is a thicket to hide in. Malloreans get nervous when they can't see for a mile or so in every direction, so they aren't very likely to search these woods too extensively."

  "I'll see what I can find," the little man offered. He turned his horse toward the northeast, but suddenly reined in sharply as two figures stepped out from among the trees. One was robed and cowled, and the other was a large, watchful man.

  "I greet thee, Ancient Belgarath," the hooded figure said in the clear voice of a woman. She lifted her face, and Garion saw that her eyes were bound with a dark strip of cloth. "I am Onatel," she continued, "and I am here to point out a safe path to thee."

  "We're grateful for your aid, Onatel."

  "Thy path lies southward, Belgarath. Some small way into this wood thou wilt discover an ancient track, much overgrown. It will lead thee to a place of concealment."

  "And have you seen what is to come, Onatel?" Polgara asked. "Will the soldiers search this wood?"

  "Thou and thy companions are the ones they seek, Polgara, and they will search in all parts of the island, but they will not find thee and thy friends—unless it come to pass that someone doth point thee out to them. Beware of the hermit who doth dwell in this wood, however. He will seek to test thee." She turned then with one hand outstretched. The large man standing in the shadows took that groping hand and gently led her back into the forest.

  "How convenient," Velvet murmured. "Perhaps a little too convenient."

  "She wouldn't lie, Liselle," Polgara said.

  "But she's not obliged to tell the whole truth, is she?"

  "You've got a very suspicious nature," Silk told her.

  "Let's just say that I'm cautious. When a perfect stranger goes out of her way to help me, it always makes me a little nervous."

  "Let's go ahead and find this path of hers," Belgarath said. "If we decide later on to change direction, we can do it some place private."

  They pushed into the shadows beneath the spreading evergreens. The forest floor was damp and thickly covered with fallen needles from the limbs overhead. The sun streamed down in long, slanting shafts of golden light, and the shadows had that faint bluish tinge of morning. The thick loam muffled the sound of their passage, and they rode in a kind of hushed silence.

  The track to which the seeress had directed them lay perhaps a mile back in the wood. It was deeply indented in the forest floor, as if at some time in the long-distant past it" had been much travelled. Now, however, it lay unused, and weeds and grass had reclaimed it.

  As the sun mounted in the sky, the blue cast to the shadows beneath the trees faded, and a myriad of tiny insects swirled and darted in the shafts of sunlight. Then, quite suddenly, Belgarath reined in his horse. "Listen!" he said sharply.

  From far behind them, Garion heard a series of sharp yelps.

  "Dogs?" Sadi asked, looking nervously back over his shoulder. "Did they bring dogs to sniff out our trail?"

  "Those aren't dogs," Belgarath told him. "They're wolves."

  "Wolves?" Sadi exclaimed. "We must flee!"

  "Don't get excited, Sadi," the old man told him. "Wolves don't hunt people."

  "I'd rather not chance that, Belgarath," the eunuch said. "I've heard some very alarming stories."

  "That's all they were—stories. Believe me, I know wolves. No self-respecting wolf would even consider eating a human. Stay here, all of you. I'll go see what they want." He slid down out of his saddle.

  "Not too close to the horses, father," Polgara warned. "You know how horses feel about wolves."

  He grunted and went off into the forest.

  "What's he doing?" Sadi asked nervously.

  "You wouldn't believe it," Silk replied.

  They waited in the cool dampness of the forest, listening to the faint yelping sounds and an occasional bell-like howl echoing among the trees.

  When Belgarath returned some time later, he was swearing angrily.

  "Whatever is the matter, father?" Polgara asked him.

  '' Somebody' s playing games," he retorted angrily. "There aren't any wolves back there."

  "Belgarath," Sadi said, "I can hear them. They've been yapping and howling on our trail for the past half-hour."

  "And that's all there is back there—just the noise. There isn't a wolf within miles of here."

  "What's making all the noise, then?"

  "I told you. Somebody's playing games. Let's move on— and keep your eyes open."

  They rode warily now, with the phantom baying filling the woods behind them. Then there came a sudden, high-pitched bellow from somewhere in front of them.

  "What's that?" Durnik exclaimed, reaching for his axe.

  "It's an absurdity," Belgarath snapped. "Ignore it. It's no more real than the wolves were."

  But there was something swaying in the shadows beneath the spreading trees ahead—something gray and ponderously vast.

  "There! What is that thing?" Ce'Nedra's voice was shrill.

  "It's an elephant, dear," Polgara told her calmly. "They live in the jungles of Gandahar on the east coast of Mallorea."

  "How did it get here, then?"

  "It didn't. It's an apparition. Father was right. Someone in these woods has a very twisted sense of humor."

  "And I'm going to show this comedian exactly what I think of his little jokes," Belgarath growled.

  "No, father," Polgara disagreed. "I think that perhaps you should leave it to me. You're irritated, and that sometimes makes you go a little far with things. I'll take care of it."

  "Polgara—" he started angrily.

  "Yes, father?" Her look was cool and direct.

  He controlled himself with some effort. "All right, Pol " he said. "Don't take any chances, though. This funny fellow might have some other tricks in his bag."

  "I'm always careful, father," she replied. Then she moved her horse at a walk until she was several yards in advance of the rest of the party. "It's a very nice elephant," she called into the woods as she eyed the huge gray shape swaying menacingly in the shadows ahead of her. "Have you anything else you might like to show us?"

  There was a long pause.

  "You don't seem very impressed," a rusty-sounding voice growled from somewhere nearby.

  "Well, you did make a few mistakes. The ears aren't big enough, for one thing, and the tail is much too long."

  "The feet and tusks are about right, though," the voice in the woods snapped, "as you're about to find out."

  The gray shape raised its huge snout and bellowed. Then it lumbered forward directly toward Polgara.

  "How tiresome," she said, making a negligent-appearing gesture with one hand.

  The elephant vanished in mid-stride.

  "Well?" she asked.

  A figure stepped out from behind a tree. It was a tall, gaunt man with wild hair and a very long beard, with twigs and straw clinging to it. He was dressed in a filthy smock, and his bare legs were as white as fish bellies, with knobby knees and broken veins. In one hand he carried a slender stick.

  "I see that you have power, woman," he said to her, his voice filled with an unspoken threat.

  "Some," she admitted calmly. "You must be the hermit I've heard about."

  A look of cunning came into his eyes. "Perhaps," he replied. "And who are you?"

  "Let's just say that I'm a visitor."

  "I don't want any visitors. These woods are mine, and I prefer to be le
ft alone."

  "That's hardly civil. You must learn to control yourself."

  His face suddenly twisted into an insane grimace. "Don't tell me what to do!" he screamed at her. "I am a God!"

  "Hardly that," she disagreed.

  "Feel the weight of my displeasure!" he roared. He raised the stick in his hand, and a glowing spark appeared at its tip. Suddenly, out of the insubstantial air, a monster leaped directly at her. It had scaly hide, a gaping muzzle filled with pointed fangs, and great paws tipped with needle-sharp claws.

  Polgara lifted one hand, palm outward, and the thing suddenly stopped and hung motionless in midair. "A trifle better," she said critically. "This one even seems to have a bit of substance to it."

  "Release it!" the hermit howled at her, jumping up and down in fury.

  "Are you really sure you want me to?"

  "Release it! Release it! Release it!" His voice rose to a shriek as he danced about wildly.

  "If you insist," she replied. Slowly the slavering monster turned about in midair and then dropped to the ground. With a roar, it charged the startled hermit.

  The gaunt man recoiled, thrusting his wand out in front of him. The creature vanished.

  "You always have to be careful with monsters," she advised. "You never know when one of them might turn on you."

  His mad eyes narrowed, and he levelled his stick at her. A series of incandescent fireballs burst from its tip, sizzling through the air directly at her.

  She held up her hand again, and the smoldering chunks of fire bounced off into the woods. Garion glanced at one and saw that it was actually burning, setting the damp needles on the forest floor to smoking. He put his heels to his horse's flanks, even as Durnik also spurred forward, brandishing his cudgel.

  "Stay out of it, you two!" Belgarath barked. "Pol can take care of herself."

  "But, Grandfather," Garion protested, "that was real fire."

  "Just do as I say, Garion. You'll throw her off balance if you go blundering in there now."

  "Why are you being so difficult," Polgara asked the madman who stood glaring at her. "All we're doing is traveling through these woods."

  "The woods are mine!" he shrieked. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" Again he danced his insane caper of fury and shook both his fists at her.

  "Now you're being ridiculous," she told him.

  The hermit leaped backward with a startled exclamation as the ground directly in front of his feet erupted with a seething green fire and a boiling cloud of bright purple smoke.

  "Did you like the colors?" she inquired. "I like a little variety now and then, don't you?"

  "Pol," Belgarath said in exasperation, "will you stop playing?"

  "This isn't play, father," she replied firmly. "It's education."

  A tree some yards behind the hermit suddenly bent forward, enfolding him in its stout limbs and then straightening back up again, lifting him struggling into the air.

  "Have you had enough of this yet?" she asked, looking up at the startled man, who was trying desperately to free himself from the branches wrapped about his waist. "Decide quickly, my friend. You're a long way from the ground, and I'm losing interest in keeping you up there."

  With a curse, the hermit wrenched himself free and tumbled heavily to the loam beneath the tree.

  "Did you hurt yourself?" she inquired solicitously.

  Snarling, he cast a wave of absolute blackness at her.

  Still sitting her horse with unruffled calm, she began to glow with an intensely blue light that pushed the blackness away.

  Again the look of mad cunning came into his eyes. Garion felt a disjointed surge. Jerkily, one portion of his body at a time, the deranged hermit began to expand, growing larger and larger. His face was wholly insane now, and he lashed out with one huge fist, shattering a nearby tree. He bent, picked up a long branch, and broke it in two. He discarded the shorter end and advanced upon Polgara, swinging his great club.

  "Pol!" Belgarath shouted in sudden alarm. "Be careful of him!"

  "I can manage, father," she replied. Then she faced the ten-foot-tall madman. "I think this has gone quite far enough," she told him. "I hope you know how to run." She made a peculiar gesture.

  The wolf that appeared between them was impossibly large—half again as big as a horse—and its snarl was thunderous.

  "I do not fear your apparitions, woman," the towering hermit roared. "I am God, and I fear nothing."

  The wolf bit him, its teeth sinking into his shoulder. He screamed and jerked back, dropping his cloth. "Get away!" he shouted at the snarling wolf.

  The beast crouched, its fangs bared.

  "Get away!" the hermit screamed again. He flopped his hands in the air, and Garion again felt that disorganized surge as the insane man tried with all his might to make the wolf vanish.

  "I recommend immediate flight," Polgara suggested. "That wolf hasn't been fed for a thousand years and it's dreadfully hungry."

  The hermit's nerve broke at that point. He spun and ran desperately back into the woods, his pale, skinny legs flashing and his hair and beard streaming behind him. The wolf gave chase at a leisurely lope, snapping at his heels and growling horribly. "Have a pleasant day," Polgara called after him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Polgara's expression was unreadable as she looked after the fleeing hermit. At last she sighed. "Poor fellow," she murmured.

  "Will the wolf catch him?" Ce'Nedra asked in a small voice.

  "The wolf? Oh no, dear. The wolf was only an illusion."

  "But it bit him. I saw the blood."

  "Just a small refinement, Ce'Nedra.”

  "Then why did you say 'poor fellow'?"

  "Because he's completely mad. His mind is filled with all kinds of shadows."

  "That happens sometimes, Polgara," Belgarath told her. "Let's move along. I want to get deeper into these woods before the sun goes down."

  Garion pulled his horse in beside Belgarath's as they rode on into the forest. "Do you think he might have been a Grolim at one time?" he asked.

  "What makes you say that?"

  "Well—I sort of thought—" Garion struggled to put it into words. "What I mean is, there are two groups of sorcerers in the world—the Grolims and us. He wasn't one of us, was he?"

  "What a peculiar notion," Belgarath said. "The talent is latent in everybody. It can show up any place—and does. It takes different directions in different cultures, but it's all related—magic, witchcraft, sorcery, wizardry, and even the peculiar gift of the seers. It all comes from the same place, and it's all basically the same thing. It just shows up in different ways, that's all."

  "I didn't know that."

  "Then you've learned something today. No day in which you learn something is a complete loss."

  The autumn sun was very bright, though it was low on the northern horizon. Winter was almost upon them. Once again Garion was reminded that they were in a strange part of the world where the seasons were reversed. Back at Faldor's farm it was nearly summer now. The fields had been ploughed and the crops planted, and the days were long and warm. Here at the bottom of the world, however, it was quite the opposite. With a start, he realized that, except for that brief time in the desert of Araga, he had entirely missed summer this year. For some reason, he found that thought profoundly depressing.

  They had been climbing steadily for the past hour or more as they moved up into the low range of hills that formed the spine of the island. The land became more broken, with wooded gullies and ravines wrinkling the floor of the forest.

  "I hate mountain country," Sadi complained, looking at a cliff that suddenly reared up out of the trees. "Broken terrain is always so inconvenient."

  "It's going to be just as troublesome for the Malloreans," Silk pointed out.

  "That's true, I suppose," Sadi admitted, "but I'm afraid I still don't like hills and valleys. They seem so unnatural for some reason. Give me a nice flat swamp anytime."

  "Let me check that ravine
just ahead," Durnik said. "It's getting on toward sunset, and we're going to need a safe place to spend the night." He cantered his horse to a narrow notch, splashed across the turbulent brook that issued from its mouth, and disappeared upstream.

  "How far do you think we've come today?" Velvet asked.

  "Six or eight leagues," Belgarath replied. "We should be deep enough into the forest to avoid being noticed—unless the Malloreans intend to take this search of theirs seriously."

  "Or unless that seeress we met accidentally happens to mention the fact that we're here," she added.

  "Why are you so suspicious about those people?" Ce'Nedra asked her.

  "I'm not entirely sure," the blond girl replied, "but I get an uneasy feeling every time one of them sends us off in some direction or other. If they're supposed to be so neutral, why are they going out of their way to help us?"

  "It's her Academy training, Ce'Nedra," Silk said. "Scepticism is one of the major branches of study there."

  "Do you trust her, Kheldar?" Velvet asked pointedly.

  "Of course not—but then I graduated from the Academy, too."

  Durnik came back out of the ravine with a satisfied look on his face. "It's a good place," he announced. "It's secure, sheltered, and well out of sight."

  "Let's have a look," Belgarath said.

  They followed the smith up the ravine, with the brook gurgling and splashing beside them. After a few hundred yards, the ravine angled sharply to the left; farther along, it twisted back to the right again and opened out into a wooded basin. The brook they had been following upstream spilled out over the edge of a steep limestone cliff above the basin to fall as a misty spray into a pond at the upper end of the little canyon.

  "Very nice, Durnik," Polgara congratulated her husband. "And that pond really didn't have anything at all to do with your choice, did it?"

  "Well—" he said.

  She laughed a rich, warm laugh, leaned across, and kissed him lightly. "It's all right, Durnik," she said, "but first we'll need shelter. Then you can see if the pond is occupied."