Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  "How would he know we're coming this way?" Velvet asked in perplexity.

  "Zandramas knows that we're going to Perivor," Polgara replied. "This is the shortest route."

  "A dozen Darshivans don't really pose much of a threat," Zakath said confidently. "What's the purpose of this, then?"

  "Delay," Belgarath told him. "Zandramas wants to hold us up so that she can get to Perivor before we do. She can communicate with Naradas over long distances. We can probably expect him to set traps for us every few miles all the way to Lengha."

  Zakath scratched at his short beard, frowning in concentration. Then he opened one of his saddlebags, took out a map, and consulted it. "We're still about fifteen leagues from Lengha," he said. He squinted at Beldin. "How fast could you cover that distance?"

  "A couple hours. Why?"

  "There's an imperial garrison there. I'll give you a message to the garrison commander with my seal on it. He'll move out with troops and spring those traps from behind. As soon as we join those forces, Naradas won't be bothering us anymore." Then he remembered something. "Holy Seeress," he said to Cyradis, "back in Darshiva, you told me to leave my troops behind when I came to Kell. Is that prohibition still in effect?" "Nay, Kal Zakath." "Good. I'll write that message."

  "What about the patrol hiding just ahead?" Silk asked Gar-ion. "Or are we just going to wait here until Zakath's troops arrive?"

  "I don't think so. What's your feeling about a little exercise?"

  Silk's answering grin was vicious.

  "There's still a problem, though," Velvet said. "With Beldin on his way to Lengha, we won't have anyone to scout out any other ambushes."

  "Tell the she with yellow hair not to be concerned," the wolf said to Garion. "One is able to move without being seen, or if one is seen, the man-things will pay no heed."

  "It's all right, Liselle," Garion said. "The wolf will scout for us."

  "She's a very useful person to have along." Velvet smiled.

  "Person?" Silk said. "Well, isn't she?"

  He frowned. ""You know, you might be right at that. She has a definite personality, doesn't she?"

  The wolf wagged her tail at him and then loped off.

  "All right, gentlemen," Garion said, loosening Iron-grip's sword in its sheath, "let's go pay these lurking Darshivans a visit."

  "Won't Naradas cause some problems?" Zakath asked, handing his note to Beldin.

  "I certainly hope he tries," Garion replied.

  Naradas, however, proved to no longer be among the Dar-shivan soldiers hidden in the grove of trees. The skirmish was short, since most of the ambushers seemed to be much better at running than at fighting.

  "Amateurs," Zakath said scornfully, wiping his sword blade on the cloak of one of the fallen.

  "You're getting fairly competent with that, you know?" Gar-ion complimented him.

  “The training I was given when I was young seems to be coming back," Zakath replied modestly.

  "He handles that sword almost the same way Hettar handles his saber, doesn't he?" Silk noted, pulling one of his daggers out of a Darshivan's chest.

  "Much the same," Garion agreed, "and Hettar got his training from Cho-Hag, the finest swordsman in Algaria."

  "Which Taur Urgas discovered the hard way," Silk added.

  "I'd have given a great deal to watch that fight," Zakath said wistfully.

  "So would I," Garion said, "but I was busy somewhere else at the time."

  "Sneaking up on Torak?" Zakath suggested.

  "I don't think 'sneaking' is the right word. He knew I was coming."

  "I'll go get the ladies and Belgarath," Durnik said.

  "Beldin spoke with me," Belgarath told them when he rode up. "Naradas flew out of this grove before you got here. Beldin considered killing him, but he had that parchment in his talons.”

  "What form did he take?" Silk asked. "Naradas, I mean?"

  "A raven," Belgarath said with distaste. "Grolims are always fond of ravens for some reason.”

  Silk suddenly laughed. "Remember the time when Asharak the Murgo changed into a raven on the plain of Arendia, and Polgara called that eagle down to deal with him? U rained black feathers for almost an hour."

  "Who's Asharak the Murgo?" Zakath asked.

  "He was one of Ctuchik's underlings," Belgarath replied.

  "Did the eagle kill him?"

  "No," Silk said. "Garion did that later."

  "With his sword?"

  "No. With his hand."

  "That must have been a mighty blow. Murgos are bulky people."

  "Actually it was only a slap," Garion said. "I set fire to him." He hadn't thought of Asharak in years. Surprisingly, he found that the memory no longer bothered him.

  Zakath was staring at him in horror.

  "He was the one who killed my parents," Garion told him. "The action seemed appropriate. He burned them to death, so I did the same thing to him. Shall we ride on?"

  The tireless she-wolf ranged out ahead of them and located two more groups of ambushers before the sun went down. The survivors of the first, failed ambush had spread the word, however, and as soon as these other two groups of Darshivans saw Garion and his companions bearing down on them, they fied in panic.

  "Disappointing," Sadi said after they had flushed out the second group. He slipped his small, poisoned dagger back into its sheath.

  "I expect that Naradas is going to speak quite firmly with those fellows when he finds out that he's gone to all this trouble for nothing," Silk added gaily. "He'll probably sacrifice a goodly number of them just as soon as he can find an altar.”

  They met the men of Zakath's imperial garrison from Lengha about noon the following day. The commander of the garrison rode forward and stared at Zakath in some amazement. "Your Imperial Majesty," he said, "is that really you?"

  Zakath rubbed at his black beard, "Oh, you mean this, Colonel?" He laughed. "It was the suggestion of that old man over there." He pointed at Belgarath. "We didn't want people to recognize me, and my face is stamped on every coin in Mallo-rea. Did you have any trouble on your way north?"

  "Nothing worth mentioning, your Majesty. We encountered a dozen or so groups of Darshivan soldiers—usually hiding in clumps of trees. We encircled each clump, and they all surrendered immediately. They're very good at surrendering."

  "They run quite well, too, weVe noticed." Zakath smiled.

  The colonel looked at his emperor a bit hesitantly. "I hope you won't be offended at my saying this, your Majesty, but you seem to have changed since the last time I was in Mal Zeth."

  "Oh?"

  " I’ve never seen you under arms, for one thing.”

  "Troubled times, Colonel. Troubled times."

  "And if you'll forgive my saying so, your Majesty, I’ve never heard you laugh before—or even seen you smile."

  "I’ve had little reason before, Colonel. Shall we go on to Lengha?"

  When they arrived in Lengha, Cyradis, with Toth's assistance, led them directly to the harbor, where a strangely configured ship awaited them.

  "Thank you, Colonel," Zakath said to the garrison commander. "Providing this ship was most considerate of you."

  "Excuse me, your Majesty," the colonel replied, "but I had nothing to do with the ship."

  Zakath gave loth a startled look, and the big mute smiled briefly at Dumik.

  Durnik frowned slightly. "Brace yourself, Kal Zakath," he said. "The arrangements for the ship were made several thousand years ago."

  Belgarath's face was suddenly creased by a broad smile. "It would seem that we're right on schedule then. I do so hate to be late for an appointment."

  "Really?" Beldin said. "I remember one time when you showed up five years after you were supposed to."

  "Something came up."

  "Something usually does. Wasn't that during the period when you were spending your time with the girls in Maragor?"

  Belgarath coughed and cast a slightly guilty look at his daughter.

 
Polgara raised one eyebrow but didn't say anything.

  The ship was manned by the same sort of mute crew as had conveyed them from the coast of Gorut in Cthol Murgos to the Isle of Verkat. Once again Garion was struck by that haunting sense of repetition. As soon as they were on board, the crew cast off all lines and made sail.

  "Peculiar," Silk observed. "The breeze is coming in off the sea, and we're sailing directly into it."

  "I noticed that," Durnik agreed.

  "I thought you might have. It appears that normal rules don't apply to the Dais."

  "Wilt thou, Belgarion, and thy friend Zakath accompany me to the aft cabin?" Cyradis said as they cleared the harbor.

  "Of course, Holy Seeress," Garion replied. He noticed that as the three of them moved aft, Zakath took the blindfolded gill's hand to lead her, almost unconsciously duplicating loth's solicitude. A peculiar notion crossed the mind of the Rivan King at that point. He looked rather closely at his friend. Zakath's face was strangely gentle, and his eyes had an odd look in them. The notion was absurd, of course, but as clearly as if he had seen directly into the Mallorean Emperor's heart, Garion knew that it was absolutely true. He rather carefully concealed a smile.

  In the aft cabin stood two gleaming suits of armor, looking for all the world like those of the knights at Vo Mimbre.

  "These must garb you at Perivor," Cyradis told them.

  "There's a reason, I assume," Garion said.

  "Indeed. And when we approach that coast, thou must each lower thy visor and under no circumstances raise it whilst we are on that isle unless I give thee leave."

  “And you're not going to tell us what the reason is, are you?”

  She smiled gently and laid one hand on his arm. "Know only that it is needful."

  "I sort of thought she might take that position," Garion said to Zakath. He went to the door of the cabin. "Dumik," he called, "we're going to need some help down here."

  "We don't have to put it on yet, do we?" Zakath asked him.

  "Have you ever worn full armor before?"

  "No. I can't say that I have."

  "It takes a bit of getting used to. Even Mandorallen grunted a bit when he first put his on."

  "Mandorallen? That Mimbrate friend of yours?"

  Garion nodded. "He's Ce'Nedra's champion."

  "I thought you were."

  "I'm her husband. Different rules apply." He looked critically at Zakath's sword, a rather light and slim-bladed weapon. "He's going to need a bigger sword, Cyradis," he told the Seer-ess.

  "In that cabinet, Belgarion."

  "She thinks of everything," Garion said wryly. He opened the cabinet. Inside, standing almost to shoulder height, was a massive broadsword. He lifted it out with both hands. "Your sword, your Majesty," he said, extending the hilt to Zakath.

  "Thank you, your Majesty." Zakath grinned. As he took me sword, his eyes suddenly went wide. "Torak's teeth!" he swore, almost dropping the huge weapon. "Do people actually use these things on each other?"

  "Frequently. It's a major form of entertainment in Arendia. If you think that one's heavy, you should try mine." Then Gar-ion remembered something. "Wake up," he said rather peremptorily to the Orb.

  The murmur of the stone was slightly offended.

  "Don't overdo this," Garion instructed, "but my friend^s sword is just a bit heavy for him. Let's make it lighter—a little at a time." He watched as Zakath strained to raise the sword. "A little more," he instructed the Orb.

  The sword point came up—slowly.

  "How's that?" Garion asked.

  "A bit more, maybe," Zakath grunted.

  "Do it," Garion said to the Orb.

  "That's better—" Zakath sighed "—but is it really safe to talk to that stone that way?”

  "You have to be firm. It's like a dog or a horse sometimes— or even a woman."

  "I will not forget thy remark, King Belgarion," Cyradis said in a crisp tone.

  He grinned at her. "I didn't expect you to, Holy Seeress," he said mildly.

  "One for your side," Zakath said.

  "You see how useful that is?" Garion laughed. "I'll make an Alom of you yet.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The ship continued to move against the wind, and when they were perhaps three leagues out from the harbor, the albatross appeared, ghosting along on motionless, seraphlike wings. It made one solitary cry, and Polgara inclined her head in response. Then it took a position just in advance of the bowsprit as if it were leading the vessel.

  "Isn't that peculiar?" Velvet said. "It's just like the one we saw on the way to the Isle of Verkat.”

  "No, dear," Polgara told her. "He's the same one."

  "That's impossible, Lady Polgara. That was half a world away."

  "Distance has no meaning to a bird with wings like that."

  "What's he doing here?"

  "He has a task of his own."

  "Oh? What's that?"

  "He did not choose to tell me, and it would have been impolite of me to ask.”

  Zakath had been walking up and down the deck trying to set his armor into place. "This always looks so splendid, but it's really very uncomfortable, isn't it?"

  “Not nearly as uncomfortable as not having it on when you really need it," Garion told him.

  "You get used to it in time, though, don't you?"

  "Not appreciably, no."

  Although it was some distance to the island of Perivor, the strange ship with its silent crew made good time and landed them on a wooded coast about noon the following day.

  "To be perfectly honest with you," Silk said to Garion as they unloaded the horses, "I'm just as happy to be off that vessel. A ship that sails against the wind and sailors who don't swear make me nervous somehow."

  * "There are a great many things about this entire business that are making me nervous," Garion replied.

  "The only difference is that I'm just an ordinary man. You're a hero."

  "What's that got to do with it?"

  "Heroes aren't allowed to be nervous."

  "Who made up that rule?"

  "It's a known tact. What happened to that albatross?"

  "He flew off as soon as we came in sight of land." Garion put his visor down.

  "I don't care what Polgara says about them," Silk said with a shudder. "I’ve known a lot of sailors, and I’ve never heard one of them with anything good to say about those birds."

  "Sailors are superstitious."

  "Garion, mere's some basis in fact for all superstitions." The little man squinted at the dark woods lining the upper end of the beach. "Not a very inviting coast, is it? I wonder why the ship didn't put us down in some seaport?"

  "I don't think anybody really knows why the Dais do anything."

  After the horses had been unloaded from the ship, Garion and the others mounted and rode up the beach into the woods. "I think I'd better cut you and Zakath some lances," Durnik said to Garion. "Cyradis had some reason for putting you two in armor, and I've noticed that an armored man usually looks a little undressed without a lance.” He dismounted, took his axe, and went back among the trees. He returned a tew moments later with two stout poles. "I'll put points on them when we stop for the evening," he promised.

  "This is going to be awkward," Zakath said, fumbling with his lance and shield.

  "You do it like this," Garion said, demonstrating. "Buckle the shield on your left arm and hold the reins in your left hand. Then set the butt of the lance in the stirrup beside your right foot and hold it in place with your free hand."

  "Have you ever fought with a lance?"

  "A few times, yes. It's fairly effective against another man wearing armor. Once you knock him off his horse, it takes him quite awhile to get back on his feet again."

  Beldin, as usual, had been scouting ahead. He came drifting back, ghosting among the trees on almost motionless wings. "You're not going to believe this," he said to Belgarath after he had changed back into his own form.

  "What's
that?"

  "There's a castle up ahead."

  "A what?"

  “A large building. They usually have walls, moats, and drawbridges."

  "I know what a castle is, Beldin."

  “Why did you ask then? Anyway, the one ahead looks almost as if it had been transplanted directly from Arendia.”

  "Do you suppose you could clarify this for us, Gyradis?" Belgarath asked the Seeress.

  "It is really no mystery, Ancient Belgarath," she replied. "Some two thousand years ago, a group of adventurers from the west were shipwrecked on the coast of this island. Seeing that there was no way to make their ship whole again, they settled here and took wives from among the local populace. They have retained the customs and manners and even the speech of their homeland."

  "Lots of thees and thous?" Silk asked her.

  She nodded.

  "And castles? "

  She nodded again.

  "And die men all wear armor? The same as Garion and Zakath are wearing? "

  "It is even as thou hast said, Prince Kheldar."

  He groaned.

  "What's the problem, Kheldar?" Zakath asked him.

  “ We've traveled thousands of leagues only to find Mimbrates again."

  “The reports I received from the battlefield at Thull Mardu all said that they're very brave. That might explain the reputation of this island."

  "Oh, it does indeed, Zakath," the little man told him. "Mimbrates are the bravest people in the world—probably because they don't have brains enough to be afraid of anything. Garion's friend Mandorallen is totally convinced that he's invincible."

  "He is," Ce'Nedra said in automatic defense of her knight. "I saw him kill a lion once with his bare hands."

  "I’ve heard of his reputation," Zakath said. "I thought it was exaggerated."

  "Not by very much," .Garion said. "I heard him suggest to Barak and Hettar once that the three of them attack an entire Tolnedran legion."

  "Perhaps he was joking."

  "Mimbrate knights don't know how to joke," Silk told him.

  “I will not sit here and listen to you people insult my knight,” Ce'Nedra said hotly.

  "We're not insulting him, Ce'Nedra," Silk ioid her. "We're describing him. He's so noble he makes my hair hurt."