Rivan Codex Series

by Eddings, David

  "It's probably the Sardion."

  "Would it give off a red glow?"

  He shrugged. "The Orb glows blue. I suppose there's a sort of logic to the Sardion's glowing a different color."

  "Why not green?" Silk asked.

  "Green's an in-between color," Beldin told him. "It'samix-ture of blue and yellow.”

  "You're a real gold mine of useless information, you know that, Beldin? "Silk said.

  "There's no such thing as useless information, Kheldar." Beldin sniffed.

  "All right," Zakath said, "how are we going to go about this?"

  "Cyradis," Belgarath said to the Seeress, "I'm guessing about this, but I think I'm fairly close. Nobody is going to reach that cave first, are they? What I mean is that the prophecies aren't going to let Zandramas get there before we do—or let us get there first either."

  "Astounding," Beldin murmured. "That actually sounded like real logic. Aren't you feeling well, Belgarath?"

  "Would you please?" Belgarath growled. "Well, Cyradis?"

  She paused, her expression distant. Garion seemed to hear that faint choral murmuring.' "Thy reasoning is correct, Ancient One. The same perception came to Zandramas some time ago, so I am not revealing anything unto thee which she doth not already know. Zandramas, however, hath rejected the fruits of her reasoning and hath striven to circumvent her conclusions."

  "Very well, then," Zakath said, "since we're all going to get there at the same time anyway, and since everybody knows about it, there's not much point in being coy, is there? I say we just land on the beach and march straight to the cave."

  "Stopping only long enough for you and me to put on our armor," Garion added. "It probably wouldn't be a good idea to dress up here on board ship. It might make Kresca nervous."

  "Your plan sounds good to me, Zakath," Durnik agreed.

  "I'm not so sure," Silk said dubiously. "There's a certain advantage to sneaking."

  "Drasnians," Ce'Nedra sighed.

  "Listen to his reasons before you throw the notion out, Ce'Nedra," Velvet suggested.

  "It's sort of like this," Silk went on. "Zandramas knows— deep down—that she can't beat us to that cave, but she's been trying for months all the same, hoping that there's some way she can bypass the rules. Now, let's try to think the way she does."

  "I'd sooner take poison," Ce'Nedra said with a shudder.

  "It's only for the sake of understanding your opponent, Ce'Nedra. Now, Zandramas has been hoping against hope that she can beat us to that cave and avoid the necessity of coming up against Garion. He did kill Torak, after all, and nobody in his right mind would willingly confront the Godslayer."

  "I'm going to have that removed from my title when I get back to Riva," Garion said sourly.

  "You can do that later," Silk told him. "What would Zandramas most likely feel if she arrived at the cave mouth, looked around, and didn't see us?"

  "I think I see where you're going, Kheldar," Sadi said admiringly.

  "You would," Zakath said dryly.

  "It's really rather brilliant, you know, Kal Zakath," the eunuch said. "Zandramas is going to feel a wild exultation. She'll believe that she's succeeded in circumventing the prophecies and that she's won in spite of them."

  “Then what's going to happen to her when we all step out from behind a boulder and she finds out that she still has to face Garion and submit to the choice of Cyradis after all?" Silk asked.

  "She's probably going to be very disappointed," Velvet said.

  "I think disappointment might be too mild a term," Silk suggested. "I think chagrin might come closer. Couple that with exasperation and a healthy dose of fear, and we'll be looking at somebody who's not going to be thinking too clearly. We're feirly sure there's going to be a fight when we get there, and you've always got an advantage in a fight when the opposing general is distracted."

  "It's sound tactical reasoning, Garion," Zakath conceded.

  "I'll go along with it," Belgarath said. "If nothing else, it should give me the opportunity to pay Zandramas back for all the times she's upset me. I think I still owe her just a bit for slicing pieces out of the Ashabine Oracles. I'll talk with Captain Kresca early tomorrow morning and find out if there's a beach on the east side of the peak. With a neap tide, our chances should be pretty good. Then we'll work our way up along the side of the peak, staying out of sight. We'll take cover near the cave mouth and wait for Zandramas to put in an appearance. Then we'll step out and surprise her."

  "I can add an even bigger advantage," Beldin said. "I'll scout on ahead and let you know when she lands. That way, you'll be ready for her."

  "Not as a hawk, though, uncle," Polgara suggested.

  "Why not?"

  "Zandramas isn't stupid. A hawk wouldn't have any business on that reef. There wouldn't be anything there for him to eat."

  "Maybe she'll think the storm blew me out to sea."

  "Do you want to risk your tail feathers on a maybe? A seagull, uncle."

  "A seagull?" he objected. "But they're so stupid—and so dirty."

  "You? Worried about dirt?" Silk asked him, looking up. Silk had been busily counting on his fingers.

  "Don't push it, Kheldar," Beldin growled ominously.

  "What day of the month was Prince Geran born on?" Silk asked Ce'Nedra.

  "The seventh, why?"

  "We appear to have another one of those things that's setting out to make tomorrow very special. If I’ve counted right, tomorrow will be your son's second birthday."

  "It can't be!" she exclaimed. "My baby was born in the wintertime."

  "Ce'Nedra," Garion said gentiy, "Riva's up near the top of the world. This reef is near the bottom. It is winter in Riva right now. Count up the months since Geran was born—the time he spent with us before Zandramas stole him, the time we spent marching on Rheon, the trip to Prolgu then to Tol Honeth and on to Nyissa and all those other places where we had to stop. I think if you count rather closely, you'll find that it has been very close to two years."

  She frowned, ticking the months off. Finally, her eyes went very wide. "I think he's right!" she exclaimed. "Geran will be two years old tomorrow!"

  Dumik laid his hand on the litde queen's arm. "I'll see if I can make something for you to give as a present, Ce'Nedra," he said gently. "A boy ought to have a birthday present after he's been separated from his family for so long."

  Ce'Nedra's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Durnik!" She wept, embracing him. "You think of everything."

  Garion looked at Aunt Pol, his fingers moving slightly.—Why don't you ladies take her in and put her to bed?—vt suggested.—We're all through here, and if she thinks too much about this, she's going to get herself worked up. Tomorrow's going to be hard enough for her anyway, —

  —You might be right. —

  After the ladies had left, Garion and the other men sat around the bolted-down table reminiscing. They covered in some detail the various adventures they had shared since that wind-tossed night so long ago when Garion, Belgarath, Aunt Pol, and Dumik had crept out through the gate of Faldor's farm into the world where the possible and the impossible inexorably merged. Again Garion felt that sense of cleansing, coupled with something else. It was as if, by recapitulating all that had happened in their long journey to the reef lying out there in the darkness, they were somehow bringing everything into focus to strengthen their resolve and their sense of purpose. It seemed to help for some reason.

  "I think that's about enough of that," Belgarath said finally, rising to his feet. "Now we all know what's behind us. It's time to pack all that away and start looking ahead. Let's get some sleep.”

  Ce'Nedra stirred restlessly when Garion slipped into bed. "I thought you were going to stay up all night," she said sleepily.

  "We were talking."

  "I know. I could hear the murmur of voices even in here. And men think women talk all the time."

  "Don't you?"

  "Probably, but a woman can talk while her hands
are busy. A man can't."

  "You might be right."

  There was a moment of silence. "Garion," she said.

  "Yes, Ce'Nedra?"

  "Can I borrow your knife—the little dagger Durnik gave you when you were a boy?"

  "If you want something cut, point it out. I'11 cut it for you."

  "It's nothing like that, Garion. I just want to have a knife tomorrow."

  "What for?"

  "As soon as I see Zandramas, I'm going to kill her."

  "Ce'Nedra!"

  "I have every right to kill her, Garion. You told Cyradis you didn't think you could do it because Zandramas is a woman. I don't suffer from the same kind of delicacy as you do. I'm going to carve out her heart—if she has one—slowly.” She said it with a fierceness he had never heard in her voice before. “I want blood, Garion! Lots of blood, and I want to hear her scream as I twist the knife in her. You'll lend me your dagger, won't you?'* "Absolutely not!"

  "That's all right, Garion," she said in an icy tone. "I^n sure Liselle will lend me one of hers. LiseUe's a woman and she knows how I feel,” Then she turned her back on him. "Ce'Nedra," he said placatingly. "Yes?" Her tone was sulky. "Be reasonable, dear."

  "I don't want to be reasonable. I want to kill Zandramas." “I 'm not going to let you put yourself in that kind of danger. We have much more important things to do tomorrow.” She sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's just—" "Just what?"

  She turned back and put her arms around his neck. "Never mind, Garion," she said. "Let's go to sleep now." She nestled down against him, and after a few moments her regular breathing told him that she had drifted off.

  "You should have given her the knife, "the voice in his mind told him. "Silk could have stolen it back from her sometime tomorrow. " "But—"

  "We've sot something else to talk about, Garion. Have you been thinking about your successor ?"

  "Well—sort of. It doesn't really fit any of them, you know. " "Have you given serious consideration to each of them?" “I suppose I have, but I haven't been able to make any decisions yet. "

  “You 're not supposed to make your choice yet. All you had to do was think about each one of them and get them all firmly fixed in your mind. "

  “ When do I make the choice then ?” “At the last possible moment, Garion. Zandramas might be able to hear your thoughts, but she can't hear what you haven't decided yet. "

  "What if I make a mistake?"

  "I really don't think you can, Garion. I really don't. "

  Garion's sleep was troubled that night. His dreams seemed chaotic, disconnected, and he woke often only to sink back into a restless doze. There was at first a kind of distorted recapitulation of the strange dreams that had so disturbed him that night long ago on the Isle of the Winds just before his life had been unalterably changed. The question "Are you ready?" seemed to echo again and again in the vaults of his mind. Again he faced Rundorig with Aunt Pol's matter-of-fact instruction to kill his boyhood friend roaring in his mind. And then the boar he had encountered in the snowy wood outside Val Alorn was there, pawing at the snow, its eyes aglow with rage and hate. “Are you ready?" Barak asked him before releasing the beast. Then he stood on the colorless plain surrounded by the pieces of the incomprehensible game trying to decide which piece to move while the voice in his mind urged him to hurry.

  The dream subtly changed and took on a different tone. Our dreams, no matter how bizarre, have a familiarity to them, since they are formed and shaped by our own minds. Now it seemed as if Garion's dreams were being formed by a different and unfriendly awareness almost in the same way that Torak had intruded himself in dreams and in thoughts before the meeting at Cthol Mishrak.

  Again he faced Asharak the Murgo in the loamy Wood of the Dryads, and once again he unleashed his will with that single, open-handed slap and the fatal word, "Burn!" This was a familiar nightmare. It had haunted Garion's sleep for years. He saw Asharak's cheek begin to seethe and smoke. He heard the Grolim shriek and saw him clutch at his burning face. He heard the dreadful plea, "Master, have mercy!" He spurned that plea and intensified the flame, but this time the act was not overlaid with the sense of self-loathing that had always accompanied the dream, but a kind of cruel exultation, a hideous joy as he watched his enemy writhe and burn before him. Deep within him something cried out, trying to repudiate that unholy joy.

  And then he was at Cthol Mishrak, and his flaming sword slid again and again into the body of the One-Eyed God. Tbrak's despairing "Mother!" did not this time fill him with pity but with a towering satisfaction. He felt himself laughing, and the savage, unpitying laughter erased his humanity.

  Soundlessly shrieking in horror, Garion recoiled, not so much from the awful images of those whom he had destroyed, but more from his own enjoyment of their despairing agony.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  They were a somber group when they gathered in the main cabin before daybreak the following morning. With a sudden, even surprising, insight, Garion was very certain that the nightmares had not been his alone. Insight and intuitive perception were not normal for Garion. His sensible Sendarian background rejected such things as questionable, even in some peculiarway, immoral. "Did you do that?" he asked the voice.

  ' Wo. Rather surprisingly, you came up with it all on your own. You seem to be making some progress—slowly, of course, but progress all the same.

  "Thanks."

  “Don't mention it.”

  Silk looked particularly shaken as he entered the cabin. The little man's eyes were haunted, and his hands were shaking. He slumped onto a bench and buried his face in his hands. "Have you got any of that ale left?" he asked Beldin in a hoarse voice.

  "A little quivery this morning, Kheldar?" the dwarf asked him.

  "No," Garion said. "That's not what's bothering him. He had some bad dreams last night."

  Silk raised his face sharply. "How did you know that?" he demanded.

  "I had some myself. I got to relive what I did to Asharak the Murgo, and I killed Torak again—several times. It didn't get any better as we went along."

  "I was trapped in a cave," Silk said with a shudder. "There wasn't any light, but I could feel the walls closing in on me. I think the next time I see Relg, I 'm going to hit him in the mouth-gently, of course. Relg's sort of a friend."

  "I'm glad I wasn't the only one," Sadi said. The eunuch had placed a bowl of milk on the table, and Zith and her babies were gathered around it, lapping and purring. Garion was a bit surprised to note that no one really paid any attention to Zith and her brood anymore. People, it seemed, could get used to almost anything. Sadi rubbed his long-fingered hand over his shaved scalp. “It seemed to me that I was adrift in the streets of Sthiss Tor, and I was trying to survive by begging. It was ghastly."

  "I saw Zandramas sacrificing my baby," Ce'Nedra said in a stricken voice. "There was crying and so much blood—so very much blood."

  "Peculiar," Zakath said. "I was presiding over a trial. I had to condemn a number of people. There was one of them I cared a great deal about, but I was forced to condemn her anyway."

  "I had one, too," Velvet admitted.

  "I rather expect we all did," Garion told them. "The same thing happened to me on the way to Cthol Mishrak. Torak kept intruding in my dreams." He looked at Cyradis. "Does the Child of Dark always fall back on this?" he asked her. "We've found that events keep repeating themselves when we're leading up to one of these meetings. Is this one of those events that keeps happening over and over again?"

  "Thou art very perceptive, Belgarion of Riva," the Seeress told him. "In all the uncounted eons since these meetings began, thou art the first Child of either Light or Dark to have realized that the sequence must be endlessly repeated until the division hath ended."

  "I am not sure I can take much credit for it, Cyradis," he admitted. "As I understand it, the meetings are getting closer and closer together. I 'm probably the first in history to have been the Child of Light—or Dark—during two
meetings, and even then it took me awhile to realize that it was happening. The nightmares are part of that pattern then?"

  "Thy guess is shrewd, Belgarion." She smiled gently. "Unfortunately, it is not correct. It seemeth to me a shame to waste such a clever perception, though."

  "Are you trying to be funny, Holy Seeress?"

  "Would I do that, noble Belgarion?" she said, perfectly imitating Silk's inflection.

  "You could spank her," Beldin suggested.

  "With that human mountain standing guard over her?" Gar-ion said, grinning at Toth. His eyes narrowed. "You're not permitted to help us with diis, are you, Cyradis?" he asked her.

  She sighed and shook her head.

  "That's all right, Holy Seeress," he said. "I think we can come up with a workable answer to the question by ourselves.” He looked at Belgarath. "All right," he said. "Torak tried to frighten me with nightmares, and now it looks as if Zandramas is trying to do the same thing, except that this time, she's doing it to all of us. If it's not one of those usual repetitions, what is it?"

  "That boy's beginning to develop a rather keen analytical mind, Belgarath," Beldin said.

  "Naturally," the old man said modestly.

  "Don't wrench your shoulder out of its socket trying to pat yourself on the back," Beldin said sourly. He rose to his feet and started pacing up and down, his forehead creased in thought. "Now then," he began, "first: This isn't just erne of the tedious repetitions that have been dogging us since the beginning, right?"

  "Right," Belgarath agreed.

  "Second: It happened in about the same way last time." He looked at Garion. "Right?" he asked.

  "Right," Garion said.

  "That's only two times. Twice can be a coincidence, but let's assume that it's not. We know that the Child of Light always has companions, but that the Child of Dark is always solitary."

  "So Cyradis tells us," Belgarath agreed.

  "She doesn't have any reason to lie to us. All right, if the Child of Light has companions but the Child of Dark is alone, wouldn't that put the Dark at a serious disadvantage?"

  "You'd think so."