The final cementing of the growing friendship came when Wildantor was showing off. He stood alone on a trembling, undermined bridge, single-handedly holding off the entire Angarak force. I’ve never seen anyone shoot arrows so fast. When an archer has four arrows in the air all at the same time, you know that he’s really attending to business.
‘Pol,’ mother’s voice said calmly, ‘he’s going to fall into the water. Don’t interfere, and don’t let your father get involved, either. Mandor will save him. It’s supposed to happen that way.’
And it did, of course. The bridge Wildantor stood on shuddered and collapsed, and the river swept the red-haired Asturian downstream. Mandor raced down-river to the next destroyed bridge, dashed out to the broken end, and reached down toward the seething water. ‘Wildantor!’ he bellowed. ‘To me!’
And the half-drowning Asturian veered across the turbulent stream, reached up, and their hands crashed together. In a symbolic sense, neither of them ever let go again.
Chapter 33
We continued our slow withdrawal – I won’t say retreat – for the next several days, and our little force became more adept as they gradually came to accept the fact that their alliance was holding firm. The Mimbrate knights and Asturian bowmen, reassured perhaps by the growing friendship between Mandor and Wildantor, began to lay aside their hereditary animosity to concentrate their efforts on the task at hand. The Mimbrates grew more skilled at bridge-wrecking with practice, and several impromptu alliances began to crop up. One little group of knights grew very adept at weakening bridges rather than destroying them outright, and the knight in charge spoke with his Asturian counterpart, suggesting that the archers might restrain their enthusiasm just enough to allow the span to become crowded with advancing Murgos. That was the point at which several knights concealed upstream started rolling logs into the swiftly flowing river. The weakened bridge collapsed when the logs smashed into the already shaky underpinnings, and several hundred Murgos went swimming – for a short while, anyway. A suit of steel chain-mail isn’t the best swimming costume in the world, I noticed. The celebration involving those knights and archers that evening was rowdy, and I saw Mimbrates and Asturians linked arm in arm singing ancient drinking songs as if they’d known each other all their lives.
When we’d left Vo Mimbre, our major concern had been to keep the Mimbrates and Asturians separated. When we returned, nothing we could have done would have kept them apart. Mutual animosity had been replaced by comradeship. I’m fairly sure that hadn’t been what Torak had in mind when he’d come west.
There was a heroes’ welcome awaiting us upon our return. I’m sure that some of the citizens of Vo Mimbre choked a bit over cheers directed at Asturians, but that’s not really important, is it?
Father’s scheme had won us the requisite five days, and the twins, who’d arrived at Vo Mimbre during our absence, advised us that uncle Beldin and General Cerran had reached Tol Honeth with the southern legions. Father sent out his thought and spoke briefly with his twisted brother, and he assured us that the Tolnedrans and Chereks would reach Vo Mimbre on schedule. We were ready, and tomorrow the battle would begin.
Mother spoke with me briefly while father was out looking over the defenses of the city. ‘Pol, she said, ‘when he comes back, tell him that you’re going out to keep an eye on the Angaraks. I think you and I should look in on Torak again.’
‘Oh?’
‘I don’t like surprises, so let’s keep an eye on Torak and Zedar.’
‘All right, mother.’
Father was a bit on edge when he came back, but that was to be expected, I suppose. Everybody’s a little edgy on the night before a battle.
‘I’m going out to have a look around, father,’ I told him.
‘I don’t suppose you’d pay any attention to me if I said that I forbid it, would you?’
‘Not really.’
‘Then I won’t waste my breath. Don’t be out all night.’
I almost laughed out loud. The tone in which he said it was almost exactly the tone he’d used at Riva during the preparations for Beldaran’s wedding when I’d spent my time breaking hearts and he’d spent his chewing on his fingernails. The irony of the situation might have escaped him, however. Back at Riva, he’d been worried about my hordes of suitors. I had a suitor here at Vo Mimbre as well, and this time I was the one who was worried.
Mother and I merged again, and all turned inward, we were once again totally undetectable. We located Torak’s rusting black palace and went inside again through that convenient embrasure.
‘I will punish them, Zedar,’ Torak was saying in his dramatically resonant voice.
‘Well do they deserve it, Master,’ Zedar said obsequiously. ‘In their petty squabbling, they have failed thee. Their lives are forfeit for their misdeeds.’
‘Be not over-quick to condemn them, Zedar,’ Torak replied ominously. “Thou hast still not yet fully atoned for thine own failure in Morinland some several centuries back.’
‘Prithee, Master, forgive me. Let not thy wrath fall upon me, though my punishment be richly deserved.’
‘There are no punishments or rewards, Zedar,’ Torak replied darkly, ‘only consequences. Urvon and Ctuchik shall learn the meaning of consequences in the fullness of time – even as shalt thou. For now, however, I have need of thee and thy two brothers.’
I suspect that Zedar choked a bit at the notion of calling Urvon and Ctuchik ‘brothers’.
Torak, his polished steel mask glowing in the lamplight, sat brooding morosely. Then he sighed. ‘I am troubled, Zedar,’ he confessed. ‘A great discrepancy looms before me.’
‘Reveal it, Master,’ Zedar urged. ‘Mayhap between us we might resolve it.’
Thine o’erweening self-confidence doth amuse me, Zedar,’ Torak responded. ‘Hast thou perused the document which doth expound the ravings of that sub-human on the banks of the Mrin in far northern Drasnia?’
‘At some length, Master.’
‘And art thou also familiar with the truth which was revealed to me at Ashaba?’
‘Yea, Master.’
‘Didst thou not perceive that the two do not precisely coincide? Both spake of the battle which shall begin here before Vo Mimbre a few hours hence.’
‘Yes, I did so understand.’
‘But the account from Mrin doth not agree with that from Ashaba. Mrin doth hang the fate of the world on the third day of the forthcoming battle.’
‘I did perceive as much, Master.’
‘Ashaba, however, doth not. Ashaba’s concentration doth lie upon the second day, or upon the fourth.’
‘I had not fully recognized that, Master,’ Zedar confessed. ‘What thinkest thou might be the import of this discrepancy?’
‘The import, methinks, doth rest upon him who shall confront me at the battle’s height. Should the Godslayer and I meet on the second day – or upon the fourth, I shall easily overthrow him. Should we meet upon that fatal third day, then shall the spirit of the Purpose infuse him, and I shall surely perish.’ He suddenly broke off, muttering incoherently, his voice distorted by the hollow echoes inside his steel mask. ‘Accursed rain!’ he burst out suddenly, ‘and accursed be the rivers which have delayed mine advance! We have come hither too late, Zedar! Had we arrived but two days – one day – earlier, the world would have been mine. Now is the outcome cast into the lap of chance, and I am unquiet about this, for chance hath never been my friend. I left Ashaba in the sure and certain knowledge that I should arrive here at the proper time, and gladly have I sacrificed Angarak lives uncounted to achieve that goal, and still have I reached this place but one single day too late. Will I or nil I, I must face the Overlord of the West on that fatal third day, should fickle chance so decree. I am mightily discontented, Zedar, discontented beyond measure!’
‘He thinks it’s Gelane!’ I gasped inside our enclosed awareness.
‘What?’ Mother’s thought was as stunned as mine.
‘He a
ctually believes that it’s Gelane who’s going to challenge him!’
‘How did you arrive at that?’
‘The terms “Godslayer” and “Overlord of the West” refer to the Rivan King. Somehow, Torak thinks that Gelane’s returned to Riva and taken up the sword. He doesn’t even know that Brand’s the one who’s going to challenge him.’
Mother considered that. ‘You could be right, Pol,’ she agreed. ‘Torak’s information comes from Ctuchik and Ctuchik relies on Chamdar. Your father’s been distracting Chamdar for several centuries with all those clever games in Sendaria. Torak doesn’t really know anything at all about the heir to the throne of Riva. He could very well believe that it’s the heir he’ll be facing on that third day.’
‘I’m sure of it, mother. That would explain why you were told to take the Orb off the pommel of Iron-grip’s sword and put it in the shield instead. Brand’s weapon isn’t going to be a sword; it’s going to be that shield.’
Torak was still talking, so mother and I set our private discussion aside to listen.
Thou must take the city on the morrow, Zedar,’ Torak instructed. ‘My meeting with the descendant of Iron-grip must take place on the following day. Sacrifice the whole of Angarak if need be, but Vo Mimbre must be mine ere the sun doth seek his bed.’
‘It shall be as my Master commands,’ Zedar promised. ‘E’en now are mine engines of war being moved into place. I pledge to thee, Lord, that Vo Mimbre will fall on this day, for I shall hurl all of Angarak ‘gainst those golden walls.’ Clearly, Zedar’s eight-year siege of the Algarian Stronghold hadn’t taught him the folly of making rash promises.
Then Torak launched himself into a rambling monologue that didn’t really make too much sense. History hadn’t treated Torak very well, and his resentment towered like a mountain. So many things he’d believed should be his had been denied him that his sanity had slipped away. Under different circumstances, I might have pitied him.
‘I think we’ve heard enough, Pol,’ mother said at that point. ‘We’re not accomplishing anything by sitting here listening while he feels sorry for himself.’
‘Whatever you say, mother,’ I agreed.
Our owl squeezed its way back out through the embrasure and flew on silent wings back toward Vo Mimbre. The weather had cleared after that blizzard down in Ashaba, and the stars were out. I’d missed the stars. People with abnormally long life spans always seem to grow fond of the stars. There’s a sense of permanence about them that’s comforting when all else around us is falling away.
Although Torak hadn’t done it entirely by himself, he had cracked the world apart back during the War of the Gods, so I’m sure he could have dismantled the walls of Vo Mimbre with a single thought Clearly, however, he was not permitted to do that. The exquisitely convoluted rules of the eternal game between the two contending Destinies forbade the exercise of Divine Will during these EVENTS. The consequences of breaking those rules were quite severe – as Ctuchik was to discover at Rak Cthol. Torak could act only through human agency – right up until the moment when he faced Brand, and even that EVENT would be tightly controlled by rules.
‘The rest of us are under similar constraints, Pol,’ mother’s voice replied to my unspoken thought. ‘Warn your father. Tell him that this isn’t a good time for experiments. Suggest that dropping a comet on the Angaraks at this point wouldn’t be a good idea.’
‘He wouldn’t do that, mother.’
‘Oh, really? You’ve never seen the kinds of silly things he does when he gets irritated, Pol. I saw him throw a hammer away after he’d smashed his thumb with it once.’
‘Everybody does that once in a while, mother.’
‘He threw it at the sky, Polgara. That was several thousand years ago, and as far as I know, it’s still going – at least I hope it is. Sometimes it only takes a very small thing to explode a star in the wrong place at the wrong time. That happened once already. We don’t want it to happen again, do we?’
‘Not really,’ I agreed. ‘We’ve got enough to worry about as it is. Are we really sure that nobody’s going to be able to use the Will and the Word during this battle?’
‘I don’t think we can say for sure. Watch Zedar very closely. If he can get away with doing something without dissolving on the spot, we should be able to do similar things. Let Zedar take the risks.’
‘I knew that he’d eventually be useful for something, mother. I’m not sure that taking all the risks will warm his heart very much, though.’
‘What a shame.’
We settled onto the battlements of Aldorigen’s palace shortly after midnight. ‘Run along, Pol,’ mother suggested. ‘I’ll go back out and keep an eye on things while you report to your father.’
‘Run along’? Sometimes mother’s use of language can be very deflating. That ‘run along’ had the strong odor of ‘go out and play’.
I detached myself from our owl and resumed my own form even as mother swooped away.
My report to father and the twins was far from complete. I made no mention of Torak’s mistaken conclusion that his opponent in the forthcoming duel was going to be Gelane. Father tends to make things up as he goes along, and that made me very nervous. Gelane was safe at the Stronghold, and I wanted him to stay safe. My father’s a very gifted performer, but it’s not a good idea to just push him out on to the stage and let him improvise. Overacting is second nature to him, and the notion of bringing Gelane to Vo Mimbre to display him atop the battlements for Torak’s entertainment at the height of the battle might have been dramatic, but it would also put my youthful charge in great danger. As long as father didn’t know what Torak believed, he’d have no reason to start getting creative. I learned a long time ago not to tell father any more than he absolutely needed to know.
I did, however, tell him that Torak hadn’t once left his rusty tin bucket of a palace since he’d crossed the land bridge. Father probably didn’t need to know that, but the fact that Torak was staying in isolation might help to stem his inventiveness.
‘You might want to keep something in mind for future reference, father,’ I added. Torak’s disciples aren’t at all like us. We’re a family, but they aren’t. Zedar, Urvon, and Ctuchik hate each other with a passion that’s almost holy. Zedar was having a great deal of trouble keeping his gloating under control while he was talking with Torak. Urvon and Ctuchik are currently in disfavor, and that makes Zedar the cock of the walk. He’s going to try to consolidate that by delivering Vo Mimbre to Torak in one day. He’ll throw everything he’s got at us tomorrow. Torak might abide by the prohibitions laid down by the Necessities, but I don’t think we can be sure that Zedar won’t break the rules.’
‘That’s the story of Zedar’s life, Pol,’ father grunted sourly. ‘He’s made a career out of breaking the rules. What else were the two of them talking about?’
‘Their instructions, for the most part. Evidently the Ashabine Oracles gave Torak far more in the way of details than the Mrin Codex gives us. The third day of this little confrontation’s going to be very important, father. The legions absolutely must be here, because their presence will force Torak to accept Brand’s challenge.’
His eyes brightened. ‘Well, now,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that interesting?’
‘Don’t start gloating, father. Torak’s ordered Zedar to throw everything they’ve got at Vo Mimbre. If they can take the city, the advantage swings back to them. Once we go past that third day, we’ll be looking at an entirely different EVENT, and we don’t want that at all.’
‘Are they going to try to delay Eldrig’s war-boats?’ Beltira asked.
‘Zedar suggested it, but Torak said no. He doesn’t want to split his forces. How long is it until morning?’
‘Three or four hours,’ father replied.
‘I’ll have time for a bath, then.’
Father rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
Dawn stained the sky off to the west, but Zedar was obviously waiting for specific instr
uctions before launching his attack. Then, as the rim of the sun peeped up over the Ulgo mountains, a home-blast came from the iron pavilion, and Zedar’s siege engines, all in unison, whipped forward to hurl a huge shower of rocks upon the city, and that began the battle of Vo Mimbre.
There was the usual adjusting of the catapults until the rocks were all hitting the walls instead of being scattered all over the city. Then things settled down into the tedious thudding of rocks smashing into the walls.
We could clearly see the Angarak troops massing at some distance behind the catapults. Still father waited. Then, about mid-morning, he ordered Wildantor to respond. The Asturian archers raised their bows and loosed their arrows in unison. The hail-storm of steel-tipped arrows fell onto the Thulls manning the siege-engines, and the bombardment of the walls stopped instantly. The surviving Thulls fled back into the teeth of the massed Angaraks, leaving their siege-engines unmanned and unprotected.
That was when Mandor signaled his mounted knights at the north gate. The gate opened, and the knights charged out, armed with battle axes rather than lances. When they returned, Zedar’s siege-engines had all been reduced to kindling-wood.
I found the sound of Torak’s screams of rage and disappointment rather charming, actually. Evidently the idea that we might retaliate against his attacks had never occurred to him – as his childish temper-tantrum clearly demonstrated. Had he actually thought that we’d just meekly hand the city over to him just because he wanted it? I rather imagine that Zedar’s life hung by a thread at that point. Desperately, and obviously without thinking, he ordered a frontal assault on that north gate. The assault melted under a storm of arrows, and those few Angaraks who reached the walls were drenched with boiling pitch and then set on fire. The sun went down, and the first day was over. We were still safely inside the walls, and Zedar was obliged to return to Torak’s palace to report his failure. Mother and I both wanted to eavesdrop on that particular conversation.
Polgara the Sorceress Page 67