Beldin shrugged. ‘He didn’t believe me. He can’t accept the fact that Angarak society disintegrated. Our brother’s having a lot of trouble right now, Belgarath. I think he’s feeling some obscure racial guilt. He is an Angarak, after all, and Torak did drown more than half of mankind. Maybe you’d better have a talk with him – persuade him that it’s not really his fault.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I promised. ‘Is that the way things stand in Mallorea right now?’
He laughed. ‘Oh, no. It gets better. Here about twenty years ago, Torak stopped feeling sorry for himself and came to his senses. Back in the old days, he’d have simply stamped Mal Zeth into a mud-puddle and let it go at that, but now he’s got his mind on other things. He stole the Orb, but he can’t do anything with it. The frustration’s making him more than a little crazy. He winnowed through Mal Zeth and Mal Yaska, took the most fanatic of his worshipers, and went to the far northeast coast – up near the lands of the Karands. When they got there, he ordered his followers to build him a tower – out of iron.’
‘Iron?’ I said incredulously. ‘An iron tower wouldn’t last ten years. It’d start to rust before you even got it put together.’
‘He ordered it not to, I guess. Torak’s fond of iron for some reason. Maybe he got the idea from that iron box he keeps the Orb in. I think he’s got some strange notion that if he piles enough iron around the Orb, he can weaken it to the point that he can control it.’
‘That’s pure nonsense!’
‘Don’t blame me. It’s Torak’s idea, not mine. The people he took with him built a city up there, and Torak covered it with clouds – gloomiest place you ever saw. The Angaraks call it Cthol Mishrak – the City of Endless Night. Torak’s not nearly as pretty as he used to be – not with half of his face gone – so maybe he’s trying to hide. Ugly people do that sometimes. I was born ugly, so I’m used to it. That’s pretty much it, Belgarath. The Angaraks have three cities now, Cthol Mishrak, Mal Yaska, and Mal Zeth, and they’re going in three different directions. Torak’s so busy trying to subdue the Orb that he’s not paying any attention to what’s going on in Mal Zeth and Mal Yaska. Angarak society’s disintegrating, and it couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of people. Oh, one other thing. Evidently Torak was quite impressed with us. He’s decided to take disciples of his own.’
‘Oh? How many?’
‘Three so far. There may be more later on. I guess the war taught Torak that disciples are useful people to have around. Before the war, he wasn’t interested in sharing power, but that seems to have changed. Did you know that an ordinary priest is powerless once he gets past the boundaries of his own country?’
‘I don’t quite follow you.’
‘The Gods aren’t above a little cheating now and then. They’ve each invested their priests with certain limited powers. It helps to keep the faithful in line. An ordinary Grolim – or one of the priests of Nedra or Chaldan, and Salmissra certainly – has some ability to do the kinds of things we do. Once they leave the region occupied by the worshipers of their own God, though, that ability goes out the window. A disciple, on the other hand, carries it with him wherever he goes. That’s the reason we could do things at Korim. Torak saw the value of that and started gathering disciples of his own.’
‘Any idea of who they are?’
‘Two of them used to be Grolims – Urvon and Ctuchik. I couldn’t find anything out about the third one.’
‘Where was Belzedar during all of this?’
‘I haven’t got the slightest idea. After we flew in and went back to our own shapes, he gave me a few lame excuses about wanting to survey the whole continent, and then went off toward the east. I haven’t seen him since then. I have no idea of what he’s been doing. I’ll tell you one thing, though.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘Something’s definitely gnawing on his bowels. He couldn’t wait to get away from me.’
‘You have that effect on some people, my brother.’
‘Very funny, Belgarath. Very funny. How much beer have you got left?’
‘Just what’s in the keg. You’ve been hitting it fairly hard.’
‘I’ve managed to build up a thirst. Have you ever tasted Angarak beer?’
‘Not that I recall, no.’
‘Try to avoid it if you can. Oh, well, if we run out here, we can always go pay a call on the twins, I suppose.’ And he belched, rose, and lurched back to the beer-keg again.
Chapter 8
He came in from the west, and at first we thought he was a blind man because he had a strip of cloth covering his eyes. I could tell by his clothes that he was an Ulgo. I’d seen those hooded leather smocks in Prolgu. I was a little surprised to see him, since as far as I knew, the Ulgos had been exterminated. I went out to greet him in his own language. ‘Yad ho, groja UL,’ I said. ‘Vad mar ishum.’
He winced. ‘That is not necessary,’ he told me in normal speech. ‘The Gorim has taught me your tongue.’
‘That’s fortunate,’ I replied a bit ruefully. ‘I don’t speak Ulgo very well.’
‘Yes,’ he said with a slight smile, ‘I noticed that. You would be Belgarath.’
‘It wasn’t entirely my idea. Are you having trouble with your eyes?’
‘The light hurts them.’
I looked up at the cloudy sky. ‘It’s not really all that bright today.’
‘Not to you, perhaps,’ he said. ‘To me it is blinding. Can you take me to your Master? I have some information for him from Holy Gorim.’
‘Of course.’ I agreed quickly. Maybe now we’d find out what was really going on in Ulgoland. ‘It’s this way,’ I told him, pointing at the Master’s tower. I did it automatically, I suppose. He probably couldn’t see the gesture with his eyes covered. Then again, maybe he could; he seemed to have no trouble following me.
Belsambar was with our Master. Our mystic Angarak brother had grown increasingly despondent in the years since the cracking of the world. I’d tried to raise his spirits from time to time without much success, and I’d finally suggested to our Master that perhaps it might be a good idea if he were to try cheering Belsambar up.
Aldur greeted the Ulgo courteously. ‘Yad ho, groja UL.’ His accent was much better than mine.
‘Yad ho, groja UL,’ the Ulgo responded. ‘I have news from Gorim of Holy Ulgo.’
‘I hunger for the words of your Gorim,’ Aldur replied. Ulgos tend to be a stiff and formal people, and Aldur knew all the correct responses. ‘How fares it with my father’s servants?’
‘Not well, Divine Aldur. A catastrophe has befallen us. The wounding of the earth maddened the monsters with whom we had lived in peace since the first Gorim led us to Prolgu.’
‘So that’s what it was all about!’ I exclaimed.
He gave me a slightly puzzled look.
‘I went through Holy Ulgo a few years back, and the Hrulgin and Algroths were trying to hunt me down. Prolgu was deserted, and the she-dragon was sort of hovering over it. What happened, friend?’
He shrugged. ‘I didn’t see it personally,’ he replied. ‘It was before my time, but I’ve spoken with our elders, and they told me that the wounding of the earth shook the very mountains around us. At first they thought that it was no more than an ordinary earthquake, but Holy UL spoke with the old Gorim and told him of what had happened at Korim. It was not long after that that the monsters attacked the people of Ulgo. The old Gorim was slain by an Eldrak – a fearsome creature.’
Aldur sighed. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘My brothers and I erred when we made the Eldrakyn. I sorrow for the death of your Gorim.’ It was a polite thing to say, but I don’t think my Master had been any fonder of the previous Gorim than I’d been.
‘I didn’t know him, Divine One,’ the Ulgo admitted with a slight shrug. ‘Our elders have told me that the earth had not yet finished her trembling when the monsters fell on us. Even the Dryads turned savage. The people of Ulgo retreated to Prolgu, thinking that the monste
rs would fear the holy place, but it was not so. They pursued the people even there. Then it was that UL revealed the caverns to us.’
‘The caverns,’ Aldur mused. ‘Of course. Long have I wondered at the import of those caverns beneath Prolgu. Now it is clear to me. I have also wondered why I could not reach my father’s mind when Belgarath told me of his strange adventures in the mountains of Ulgo. I was misdirecting my thought if he is in the caverns with thy people. I marvel at his wisdom. Are the servants of UL safe in those caves?’
‘Completely, Divine One. Holy UL placed an enchantment upon the caves, and the monsters feared to follow us there. We have lived in those caverns since the earth was wounded.’
‘Your brother’s curse reaches very far, Master,’ Belsambar said somberly. ‘Even the pious people of Ulgo have felt its sting.’
Aldur’s face grew stern. ‘It is even as thou hast said, my son,’ he agreed. ‘My brother Torak hath much to answer for.’
‘And his people as well, Master,’ Belsambar added. ‘All of Angarak shares his guilt.’
I wish I’d paid closer attention to what Belsambar was saying, and to that lost look in his eyes. It was too easy to shrug off Belsambar’s moods. He was a thoroughgoing mystic, and they’re always a little strange.
‘My Gorim has commanded me to advise thee of what has come to pass in Holy Ulgo,’ our visitor continued. ‘He asked me to entreat thee to convey this news to thy brethren. Holy Ulgo is no longer safe for mankind. The monsters rage through the mountains and forests, slaying and devouring all who come into their sight. The people of Ulgo no longer venture to the surface, but remain in our caverns where we are safe.’
‘That’s why the light hurts your eyes, isn’t it?’ I asked him. ‘You were born and reared in almost total darkness.’
‘It is even as you say, Ancient Belgarath,’ he replied. That was the first time anybody ever called me that. I found it just slightly offensive. I wasn’t really all that old – was I?
‘Thus have I completed the task laid upon me by my Gorim,’ the Ulgo said to my Master. ‘Now I beg thy permission to return to the caves of my people, for truly, the light of this upper world is agony to me. Mine eyes, like twin knives, do stab into my very brain.’ He was a poetic rascal; I’ll give him that.
‘Abide yet a time,’ Aldur told him. ‘Night will soon descend, and then mayest thou begin thy journey in what to us would be darkness, but which to thee will be only a more gentle light.’
‘I shall be guided by thee, Divine One,’ the Ulgo agreed.
We fed him – that’s to say that the twins fed him. Beltira and Belkira have an obsessive compulsion to feed things.
Anyway, our Ulgo left after the sun went down, and he was a half-hour gone before I realized that he hadn’t even told us his name.
Belsambar and I said goodnight to the Master, and I walked my Angarak brother back to his tower in the gathering twilight. ‘It goes on and on, Belgarath,’ he said to me in a melancholy voice.
‘What does?’
‘The corruption of the world. It’ll never be the same as it was before.’
‘It never has been, Belsambar. The world changes every day. Somebody dies every night, and somebody’s born every morning. It’s always been that way.’
‘Those are natural changes, Belgarath. What’s happening now is evil, not natural.’
‘I think you’re exaggerating, brother. We’ve hit bad stretches before. The onset of winter isn’t all that pleasant when you get right down to it, but spring comes back eventually.’
‘I don’t think it will this time. This particular winter’s just going to get worse as the years roll by.’ A mystic will turn anything into a metaphor. Metaphors are useful sometimes, but they can be carried too far.
‘Winter always passes, Belsambar,’ I told him. ‘If we weren’t sure of that, there wouldn’t really be much point to going on with life, would there?’
‘Is there a point to it, Belgarath?’
‘Yes, there is. Curiosity, if nothing else. Don’t you want to see what’s going to happen tomorrow?’
‘Why? It’s just going to be worse.’ He sighed. ‘This has been going on for a long time, Belgarath. The universe broke apart when that star exploded, and now Torak’s broken the world apart. The monsters of Ulgoland have been maddened, but I think mankind’s been maddened too. Once, a long time ago, we Angaraks were like other people. Torak corrupted us when he gave the Grolims sway over us. The Grolims made us proud and cruel. Then Torak himself was corrupted by his unholy lust for our Master’s Orb.’
‘He found out that was a mistake, though.’
‘But it didn’t change him. He still hungers for dominion over the Orb, even though it maimed him. His hunger brought war into the world, and war corrupted all of the rest of us. You saw me when I first came to the Vale. Could you have believed then that I’d be capable of burning people alive?’
‘We had a problem, Belsambar. We were all looking for solutions.’
‘But I was the one who rained fire on the Angaraks. You wouldn’t have; not even Beldin would have; but I did. And when we started burning my kinsmen, Torak went mad. He wouldn’t have broken the world and drowned all those people if I hadn’t driven him to it.’
‘We all did things he didn’t like, Belsambar. You can’t take all the credit.’
‘You’re missing my point, Belgarath. We were all corrupted by events. The world turned cruel, and that made us cruel as well. The world’s no longer fair. It’s no more than a rotten, wormy husk of what it once was. Eternal night is coming, and nothing we can do will hold it back.’
We’d reached the foot of his tower. I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Go to bed, Belsambar,’ I told him. ‘Things won’t look so bad in the morning when the sun comes up.’
He gave me a faint, melancholy smile, ‘If it comes up.’ Then he embraced me. ‘Good bye, Belgarath,’ he said.
‘Don’t you mean goodnight?’
‘Perhaps.’ Then he turned and went into his tower.
It was just after midnight when I was awakened by a thunderous detonation and a great flash of intense light. I leaped from my bed and dashed to the window, and stared in total disbelief at the ruins of Belsambar’s tower. It was no more than a stump now, and a great column of seething fire was spouting upward from it. The noise and that fire were bad enough, but I also felt a great vacancy as if something had been wrenched out of my very soul. I knew what it was. I no longer had the sense of Belsambar’s presence.
I really can’t say how long I stood frozen at that window staring at the horror that had just occurred.
‘Belgarath! Get down here!’ It was Beldin. I could clearly see him standing at the foot of my tower.
‘What happened?’ I shouted down to him.
‘I told you to keep an eye on Belsambar! He just willed himself out of existence! He’s gone, Belgarath! Belsambar’s gone!’
The world seemed to come crashing down around me. Belsambar had been a little strange, but he was still my brother. Ordinary people who live ordinary lives can’t begin to understand just how deeply you can become involved with another person over the course of thousands of years. In a peculiar sort of way, Belsambar’s self-obliteration maimed me. I think I’d have preferred to lose an arm or a leg rather than my mystic Angarak brother, and I know that my other brothers felt much the same. Beldin wept for days, and the twins were absolutely inconsolable.
That sense of vacancy that had come over me when Belsambar ended his life echoed all across the world. Even Belzedar and Belmakor, who were both in Mallorea when it happened, felt it, and they came soaring in a week or so afterward, although I’m not sure what they thought they could do. Belsambar was gone, and there was no way we could bring him back.
We comforted our Master as best we could, although there wasn’t really anything we could do to lessen his suffering and sorrow.
You wouldn’t have thought it to look at him, but Beldin did have a certain sens
e of delicacy. He waited until he got Belzedar outside the Master’s tower before he started to berate him for his behavior in Mallorea. Belmakor and I happened to be present at the time, and we were both enormously impressed by our distorted brother’s eloquence. ‘Irresponsible’ was perhaps the kindest word he used. It all went downhill from there.
Belzedar mutely accepted his abuse, which wasn’t really at all like him. For some reason, the death of Belsambar seemed to have hit him harder even than it had the rest of us. This is not to say that we all didn’t grieve, but Belzedar’s grief seemed somehow excessive. With uncharacteristic humility, he apologized to Beldin – not that it did any good. Beldin was in full voice, and he wasn’t about to stop just because Belzedar admitted his faults. He eventually started repeating himself, and that was when Belmakor rather smoothly stepped in. ‘What have you been doing in Mallorea, old boy?’ he asked Belzedar.
Belzedar shrugged. ‘What else? I’ve been attempting to recover our Master’s Orb.’
‘Isn’t that just a little dangerous, dear chap? Torak’s still a God, you know, and if he catches you, he’ll have your liver for breakfast.’
‘I think I’ve come up with a way to get around him,’ Belzedar replied.
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Beldin snapped. ‘The Master’s got enough grief already without your adding to it by getting yourself obliterated following some half-baked scheme.’
‘It’s thoroughly baked, Beldin,’ Belzedar replied coolly. ‘I’ve taken plenty of time to work out all the details. The plan will work, and it’s the only way we’ll ever be able to get the Orb back.’
‘Let’s hear it.’
‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t need help, and I definitely don’t need any interference.’ And with that he turned on his heel and walked off toward his tower with Beldin’s curses chasing after him.
‘I wonder what he’s up to,’ Belmakor mused.
‘Something foolish,’ Beldin replied sourly. ‘Belzedar’s not always the most rational of men, and he’s been absolutely obsessed with the Master’s Orb since he first laid eyes on it. Sometimes you’d almost think it was something of his own that Torak stole.’
Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress Page 13