Rivan Codex Series

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Rivan Codex Series Page 368

by Eddings, David


  Behold also this truth: the rocks of this world and of all other worlds murmur continually of the two stones that lie at the center of the division. Once these stones were one, and they stood at the very center of all of creation, but, like all else, they were divided, and in the instant of division they were rent apart with a force that destroyed whole suns. And where these stones come into the presence of each other again, there surely will be the fast confrontation between the two spirits. Now the day will come when all will be made one again, except that the division between the two stones is so great that they can never be rejoined. And in the day when the division ends shall one of the Atones cease forever to exist, and in that day also shall one of Ij&C spirits forever vanish. --"fliese then were the truths that we had gathered, and it was our discovery of these truths that marked the end of the First Age.

  Now the Second Age of man began hi thunder and earthquake, for lo, the earth herself split apart, and the sea rushed in to divide the lands of men even as creation itself is divided. And the mountains of Korim shuddered and groaned and heaved as the sea swallowed them. And we knew that this would come to pass, for our seers had warned us that it would be so. We went our way, therefore, and found safety before the world was cracked and the sea first rushed away and then rushed back and never departed more.

  And in the days that followed the rushing in of the sea, the children of the Dragon God fled from the waters, and they abode to the north of us beyond the mountains. Now our seers told us that the children of the Dragon God would one day come among us as conquerors. And we took counsel with each other and considered how we might least offend the children of the Dragon God when they should come so that they would not interrupt our studies. In the end we concluded that our warlike neighbors would be least apprehensive about simple tillers of the soil living in rude communities on the land, and we so ordered our lives. We pulled down our cities and carried away the stones and we betook ourselves back to the land so that we might not alarm our neighbors nor arouse their envy.

  And the years passed and became centuries, and the centuries passed and became eons. And as we had known they would, the children of Angarak came down amongst us and established their overlordship. And they called the lands in which we dwelt Dalasia, and we did what they wished us to do and continued our studies.

  Now at about this time it came to pass in the far north that a disciple of the God Aldur came with certain others to reclaim a thing that the Dragon God had stolen from Aldur. And that act was so important that when it was done, the Second Age ended, and the Third Age began.

  Now it was in the Third Age that the priests of Angarak, which men call Grolims, came to speak to us of the Dragon God and of His hunger for our love, and we considered what they said even as we considered all things men told us. And we consulted the book of the heavens and confirmed that Tbrak was the incarnate God-aspect of one of the spirits which contend at the center of tune. But where was the other? How might men choose when but one of the spirits came to them? Then it was that we perceived our dreadful responsibility. The spirits would come to us, each in its own time, and each would proclaim that it was good and the other was evil. It was man, however, who would choose. And we took counsel among ourselves, and we concluded that we might accept the forms of the worship that the Grolims so urgently pressed upon us. This would give us the opportunity to examine the nature of the Dragon God and make us better prepared to choose when the other God appeared.

  In time the events of the world intruded upon us. The An-garaks allied themselves by marriage with the great city-builders of the east, who called themselves Melcene, and between them they built an empire that bestrode the continent. Now the An-garaks were doers of deeds, but the Melcenes were performers of tasks. A deed once done is done forever, but a task returns every day, and the Melcenes came among us to seek out those who might aid them in their endless tasks. Now as it chanced to happen, one of our kinsmen who aided the Melcenes had occasion to journey to the north in performance of one of those tasks. And he came to a place called Ashaba and sought shelter there from a storm that had overtaken him. And the Master of me house at Ashaba was neither Grolim nor Angarak nor any other man. Our kinsman had come unaware upon the house of Torak. Now, Torak was curious about our people, and He sent for the traveler, and our kinsman went in to behold the Dragon God. And in the instant that he looked upon die face of Torak, the Third Age ended, and the Fourth Age began. For lo, the Dragon God of Angarak was not one of the Gods for whom we waited. The signs that were upon Him did not lead beyond Him, and our kinsman saw in an instant that Torak was doomed, and that which He was would die with Him.

  And men we perceived our error, and we marveled at what we had not seen—that even a God might be but the tool of destiny. For behold, Torak was of one of the two fates, but he was not the entire fate.

  Now it happened that on the far side of the world a king was slain, and all his family with him—save one. And this king had been die keeper of one of the two stones of power, and when wonl of mis was brought to Torak, He exulted, for He believed that an ancient foe was no more. Then it was that He began His preparations to do war upon the kingdoms of the west. But the signs in the heavens and the whispers in the rocks told us that it was not as Torak believed. The stone was still guarded, and the line of the guardian remained unbroken. Torak's war would bring Him to grief.

  The preparations of the Dragon God were long, and the tasks He laid upon his people were the tasks of generations. And even as we, Torak watched the heavens to read there the signs that would tell Him when to move against the west. But Torak watched only for the signs He wished to see and He did not read the entire message written in the sky. Reading thus but a small part of the signs, He set His forces in motion on the worst possible day.

  And, as we had known it must, disaster befell the armies of Tbrak on a broad plain lying before the city of Vb Mimbre in the far west. And the Dragon God was bound in sleep to await the coming of His enemy.

  And then it was that a whisper began to reach us with yet another name. The whisper of that name became clearer to us, and upon the day of his birth the whisper of his name became a great shout. Belgarion the Godslayer had come at last.

  And now the pace of events quickened, and the rush toward the awful meeting became so swift that the pages of the book of the heavens became as a blur. And then upon the day that men celebrate as the day the world was made, the stone of power was delivered up to Belgarion; and in the instant that his hand closed upon it, the book of the heavens filled with a great light, and the sound of Belgarion's name rang from the farthest star.

  And then we felt Belgarion moving toward Maliorea bearing the stone of power, and we could feel Torak stirring as his sleep grew fitful. And finally there came that dreadful night. As we watched helplessly, the vast pages of the book of the heavens moved so rapidly that we could not read them. And then the book stopped, and we read one terrible line, "Tbrak is slain," and the book shuddered, and all the light in all of creation went out. And in that awful instant of darkness and silence, the Fourth Age ended, and the Fifth Age began.

  And as the Fifth Age began, we found a mystery in the book of the heavens. Before, all had moved toward the meeting between Belgarion and Torak, but now events moved toward a different meeting. There were signs among the stars which told us that the rates had selected yet other aspects for their final encounter, and we could feel the movements of those presences, but we knew not who or what they might be, for the pages of the great book were dark and obscure. Yet we felt a presence shrouded and veiled in darkness, and it moved through the affairs of men, and the moon spoke most clearly, advising us that this dark presence was a woman.

  One thing we saw in all the vast confusion that now clouded the book of the heavens. The Ages of man grew shorter as each one passed, and the Events that were the meetings between the two fates were growing closer and closer together. The time for leisurely contemplation had passed, and now we must
hasten lest the last Event come upon us all unaware.

  We decided that we must goad or deceive the participants in that final Event so that they should both come to the appointed place at the destined time.

  And we sent the similitude of She Who Must Make the Choice to the veiled and hooded presence of dark and to Belgarion the Godslayer, and she set them upon the path that would lead them at last to the place of our choosing.

  And then we all turned to our preparations, for much remained to be done, and we knew that this Event would be the last. The division of creation had endured for too long; and in rtis meeting between the two fates the division would end and all would be made one again.

  PART ONE - KELL

  CHAPTER ONE

  The air was thin and cool and richly scented with the odor of trees that shed no leaves but stood dark green and resinous from one end of their lives to the other. The sunlight on the snowfields above them was dazzling, and the sound of tumbling water seething down and down rocky streambeds to feed rivers leagues below on the plains of Darshiva and Gandahar was constantly in their ears. That tumble and roar of waters rushing to their destined meeting with the great River Magan was accompanied by the soft, melancholy sighing of an endless wind passing through the deep-green forest of pine and fir and spruce which clad hills that reached towaid the sky in a kind of unthinking yearning. The caravan route Garion and his friends foBowed rose up and up, winding along streambeds and mounting the sides of ridges. From atop each ridge they could see yet another, and looming over all was the spine of the continent where peaks beyond imagining soared upward to touch the very vault of heaven, peaks pure and pristine in their mantle of eternal snow. Garion had spent time in mountains before, but never had he seen such enormous peaks. He knew that those colossal spires were leagues and leagues away, but the mountain air was so clear that it seemed he could almost reach out and touch them.

  There was an abiding peace here, a peace that washed away the turmoil and anxiety that had beset them all on the plains below and somehow erased care and even thought. Each turn and each ridgetop brought new vistas, each filled with more splendor than the last until they could only ride in silence and wonder. The works of man shrank into insignificance here. Man would never, could never, touch these eternal mountains.

  It was summer, and the days were long and filled with sunlight. Birds sang from the trees beside the winding track, and the smell of sun-warmed evergreens was touched lightly with the delicate odors of the acre upon acre of wildflowers carpeting the steep meadows. Occasionally the wild, shrill cry of an eagle echoed from the rocks. "Have you ever considered moving your capital?” Garion asked the Emperor of Mallorea, who rode beside him. His tone was hushed. To speak in a louder voice would somehow profane what lay around them.

  "No, not really, Garion," Zakath replied. "My government wouldn't function here. The bureaucracy is largely Melcene. Melcenes appear to be prosaic people, but actually they aren't. I *m afraid my officials would spend about half their time looking at the scenery and the other half writing bad poetry. Nobody would get any work done. Besides, you have no idea what it's like up here in the winter.”

  "Snow?"

  Zakath nodded. "People up here don't bother to measure it in inches. They measure it in feet."

  "Are there people up here? I haven't seen-any."

  "There are a few—fur trappers, gold hunters, that sort of thing.” Zakath smiled faintly. "I think it's just an excuse, really. Some people prefer solitude."

  "This is a good place for it."

  The Emperor of Mallorea had changed since they had left Atesca's enclave on the banks of the Magan. He was leaner now, and the dead look was gone from his eyes. Like Garion and all the rest, he rode warily, his eyes and ears constantly alert. It was not so much his outward aspect that marked the change in him, however. Zakath had always been a pensive, even melancholy man, given often to periods of black depression, but filled

  at the same time with a cold ambition. Garion had often felt that fee Mallorean's ambition and his apparent hunger for power were not so much a driving need in him as they had been a kind of continual testing of himself, and, at perhaps a deeper level, deriving from an urge toward self-destruction. It had seemed almost that Zakath had hurled himself and all the resources of his empire into impossible struggles in the secret hope that eventually he would encounter someone strong enough to kill him and thereby relieve him of the burden of a life that was barely tolerable to him.

  Such was no longer the case. His meeting with Cyradis on the banks of the Magan had forever changed him. A world that had always been flat and stale now seemed to be all new to him. At times, Garion even thought he detected a faint touch of hope in his friend's face, and hope had never been a part of Zakath's makeup.

  As they rounded a wide bend in the track, Garion saw the she-wolf he had found in the dead forest back in Darshiva. She sat patiently on her haunches waiting for them. Increasingly, the behavior of the wolf puzzled him. Now that her injured paw was healed, she made sporadic sweeps through the surrounding forests in search of her pack, but always returned, seemingly unconcerned about her failure to locate them. It was as if she were perfectly content to remain with them as a member of their most unusual pack. So long as they were in forests and uninhabited mountains, this peculiarity of hers caused no particular problems, but they would not always be in the wilderness, and the appearance of an untamed and probably nervous wolf on the busy street of a populous city would be likely to attract attention, to say the very least.

  "How is it with you, little sister?" he asked her politely in the language of wolves.

  "It is well," she replied.

  "Did you find any traces of your pack?"

  "There are many other wolves about, but they are not of my kindred. One will remain with you for yet a while longer. Where is the young one?"

  Garion glanced back over his shoulder at the little two-wheeled carriage trundling along behind them. "He sits beside my mate in the thing with round feet."

  The wolf sighed. "If he sits much longer, he will no longer be able to run or hunt,” she said disapprovingly, and if yourmate continues to feed him so much, she will stretch his belly, and he will not survive a lean season when there is little food."

  "One will speak with her about it."

  "Will she listen?"

  "Probably not, but one will speak with her all the same. She is fond of the young one and takes pleasure in having him near her."

  "Soon one will need to teach him how to hunt."

  "Yes. One knows. One will explain that to one's mate."

  "One is grateful." She paused, looking about a bit warily. "Proceed with some caution," she warned. "There is a creature who dwells here. One has caught his scent several tunes, though one has not seen him. He is quite large, however.”

  "How large?"

  "Larger than the beast upon which you sit." She looked pointedly at Chretienne. Familiarity had made the big gray stallion less nervous in the presence of the she-wolf, though Garion suspected that he would be much happier if she did not come quite so close.

  "One will tell the pack-leader of what you have said," Garion promised. For some reason, the she-wolf avoided Belgarath. Garion surmised that her behavior might reflect some obscure facet of wolfly etiquette of which he was not aware.

  "One will continue one's search then," she said, rising to her feet. "It may happen that one will come upon this beast, and then we will know him." She paused. "His scent tells one that he is dangerous, however. He feeds on all things—even on things that we would shun.” Then she turned and loped off into the forest, moving swiftly and silently.

  "That's really uncanny, you know," Zakath observed. "I’ve heard men talk to animals before, but never in their own language."

  "It's a family peculiarity." Garion smiled. "At first I didn't believe it either. Birds used to come and talk to Aunt Pol all the time—usually about their eggs. Birds are awfully fond of talking about their
eggs, I understand. They can be very silly at times. Wolves are much more dignified." He paused a moment. "You don't necessarily have to tell Aunt Pol I said that," he added.

  "Subterfuge, Garion?" Zakath laughed.

  "Prudence," Garion corrected. "I have to go talk with Belgarath. Keep your eyes open. The wolf says that there's some kind of animal out there somewhere. She says it's bigger than a

  horse and very dangerous. She hinted at the fact that it's a man-eater."

  "What does it look like?"

  "She hasn't seen it. She's smelled it, though, and seen its tracks."

  "I'll watch fork."

  "Good idea." Garion turned and rode back to where Belgarath and Aunt Pol were deep in a discussion.

  "Durnik needs a tower somewhere in the Vale," Belgarath was saying.

  "I don't see why, father," Polgara replied.

  "All of Aldur's disciples have towers, Pol. It's the custom."

  "Old customs persist—even when there's no longer any need for them."

  "He's going to need to study, Pol. How can he possibly study with you underfoot all the time?"

  She gave him a long, chilly stare.

  "Maybe I should rephrase that."

  "Take as long as you need, father. I'm willing to wait."

  "Grandfather," Garion said, reining in. "I was just talking with the wolf, and she says there's a very large animal out in the forest."

  "A bear maybe?"

  "I don't think so. She's caught its scent a few times, and she'd probably recognize the smell of a bear, wouldn't she?"

  "I'd think so, yes."

 

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