King of the Murgos Read online

  ‘Why are the Grolims so afraid of them?’ Silk asked suddenly. ‘I’ve been in Mallorea a few times and I’ve seen Mallorean Grolims go all to pieces at just the mention of Kell.’

  ‘I suspect that the Dals have taken steps to keep the Grolims away from Kell. It’s the very center of their learning, and Grolims are intolerant of non-Angarak things.’

  ‘What is the purpose of these seers, Holy One?’ Garion asked.

  ‘It’s not only the seers, Belgarion,’ the Gorim replied. ‘The Dals are involved in all branches of arcane knowledge—necromancy, wizardry, magic, witchcraft—all of these and more. No one—except the Dals themselves—seems to know exactly what their purpose might be. Whatever it is, though, they are entirely committed to it—both the ones in Mallorea and those here in the west.’

  ‘In the west?’ Silk blinked. ‘I didn’t know that there were any Dals here.’

  The Gorim nodded. ‘They were divided by the Sea of the East when Torak used the Orb to crack the world. The western Dals were enslaved by the Murgos during the third millennium. But wherever they live—east or west—they have labored for eons at some task. Whatever that task may be, they are convinced that the fate of all creation depends on it.’

  ‘Does it?’ Garion asked.

  ‘We don’t know, Belgarion. We don’t know what the task is, so we can’t even guess at its significance. We do know that they follow neither of the Prophecies which dominate the universe. They believe that their task was laid upon them by some higher destiny.’

  ‘And that’s the thing that concerns me,’ Belgarath said. ‘Cyradis is manipulating us with these cryptic little announcements of hers; and for all I know, she’s manipulating Zandramas as well. I don’t like being led around by the nose—particularly by someone whose motives I don’t understand. She complicates this whole business, and I don’t like complications. I like nice, simple situations and nice, easy, solutions.’

  ‘Good and Evil?’ Durnik suggested.

  ‘That’s a difficult one, Durnik. I prefer “them and us.” That clears away all the excess baggage and allows you to get right down to cases.’

  Garion slept restlessly that night and he rose early with his head feeling as if it were stuffed with sand. He sat for a time on one of the stone benches in the central room of the Gorim’s house; then, caught in a kind of moody restlessness, he went outside to look across the quiet lake surrounding the island. The faint light from the globes hanging on their chains from the ceiling of the cavern cast a dim glow on the surface of the lake, and that glow filled the cave with a pale luminosity that seemed more like a light seen in a dream than any kind of illumination to be found in the real world. As he stood lost in thought at the water’s edge, a movement on the far shore caught his eye.

  They came singly and in groups of two and three, pale young women with the large, dark eyes and colorless hair of the Ulgos. They all wore modest white gowns, and they gathered shyly on the shore on the far side of the marble causeway, waiting in the dim light. Garion looked across the lake at them, then raised his voice to call, ‘Was there something you wanted?’

  They whispered together for a moment, then pushed one of their number forward to speak for them. ‘We—we wanted to see the Princess Ce’Nedra,’ she blurted bashfully, her face dyed with a rosy blush. ‘If she’s not too busy, that is.’ Her speech was halting, as if she were talking in a language not wholly familiar to her.

  ‘I’ll go see if she’s awake,’ Garion offered.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied, shrinking back into the protection of her group of friends.

  Garion went back inside and found Ce’Nedra sitting up in bed. Her face had none of that numb indifference that had marked it for the past several weeks, and her eyes seemed alert. ‘You’re up early,’ she noted.

  ‘I had a little trouble sleeping. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, Garion. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I was just—’ He broke off with a shrug. ‘There are some young Ulgo women outside. They want to see you.’

  She frowned. ‘Who could they possibly be?’

  ‘They seemed to know you. They said that they wanted to see the Princess Ce’Nedra.’

  ‘Of course!’ she exclaimed, springing from her bed. ‘I’d almost forgotten them.’ She quickly pulled on a teal-green dressing gown and dashed from the room.

  Curiously, Garion started to follow her, but stopped in the central hall of the house when he saw Polgara, Durnik, and the Gorim sitting quietly at the stone table.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Polgara asked, looking after the scurrying little queen.

  ‘There are some Ulgo women outside,’ Garion replied. ‘They seem to be friends of hers.’

  ‘She was very popular during her visit here,’ the Gorim said. ‘Ulgo girls are very shy, but Ce’Nedra befriended them all. They adored her.’

  ‘Excuse me, your Worship,’ Durnik said, ‘but is Relg anywhere about? I thought I might look in on him, as long as we’re here.’

  ‘Relg and Taiba have taken their children and moved to Maragor,’ the Gorim replied.

  ‘Maragor?’ Garion blinked. ‘What about the ghosts there?’

  ‘They are under the protection of the God Mara,’ the Gorim told him. ‘There seems to be some kind of understanding between Mara and UL. I’m not sure I entirely understand it, but Mara insists that Taiba’s children are Marags and he has vowed to watch over them in Maragor.’

  Garion frowned. ‘But isn’t their first-born son going to be Gorim someday?’

  The old man nodded. ‘Yes. His eyes are still as blue as sapphires. I was concerned myself at first, Belgarion, but I’m certain that UL will return Relg’s son to the caves of Ulgo at the proper time.’

  ‘How is Ce’Nedra this morning, Garion?’ Polgara asked seriously.

  ‘She seems to be almost back to normal. Does that mean that she’s all right?’

  ‘It’s a good sign, dear, but it might be a little early to be sure. Why don’t you go keep an eye on her?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Just try not to be obvious. This is a rather critical time, and we don’t want her getting the idea that we’re spying on her.’

  ‘I’ll be careful, Aunt Pol.’ He went outside and began walking around the small island as if he were only stretching his legs. He cast frequent glances at the group on the far shore. The pale, white-gowned Ulgo women were clustered about Ce’Nedra. Her green robe and her flaming red hair stood out in sharp contrast in the midst of the group. A sudden image came into Garion’s mind. With her vibrant colouring, Ce’Nedra looked very much like a single crimson rose growing in the midst of a bed of white lilies.

  After about a half an hour, Polgara came out of the house. ‘Garion,’ she said, ‘have you seen Errand this morning?’

  ‘No, Aunt Pol.’

  ‘He’s not in his room.’ She frowned slightly. ‘What is that boy thinking of? Go see if you can find him.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replied automatically. As he started across the causeway, he smiled to himself. In spite of all that had happened, he and Aunt Pol always returned to the same relationship they had shared when he was a boy. He was fairly certain that most of the time she did not even remember that he was a king, and so she often sent him on menial errands with no real awareness that they might be beneath his dignity. Moreover, he found that he did not really mind. To fall back into the pattern of immediately obeying her peremptory commands relieved him of the necessity of making difficult decisions and took him back to those days when he was just a simple farm boy with none of the cares and responsibilities that had come to him with the crown of Riva.

  Ce’Nedra and her friends were seated on rocks not far from the dim lake shore. Their conversation was subdued, and Ce’Nedra’s face was somber again.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her as he approached them.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘We were just talking, that’s all.’

 
He looked at her, but decided not to say anything more. ‘Have you seen Errand?’ he asked instead.

  ‘No. Isn’t he in the house?’

  He shook his head. ‘I think he’s gone exploring. Aunt Pol asked me to find him.’

  One of the young Ulgo women whispered something to Ce’Nedra.

  ‘Saba says that she saw him in the main gallery when she was coming here,’ Ce’Nedra told him. ‘It was about an hour ago.’

  ‘Which way is that?’ he asked.

  ‘Over there.’ She pointed toward an opening leading back into the rock.

  He nodded. ‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked her.

  ‘I’m fine, Garion.’

  ‘I’ll be back in a bit,’ he said and walked toward the gallery she had pointed out. It made him uncomfortable to be forced to step around her this way, but the possibility that a chance remark might push her back into that bleak depression made him wary and half-afraid to speak at all. A purely physical ailment was one thing, but an illness of the mind was something horrifying.

  The gallery he entered, like all the caves and passageways in which the Ulgos lived out their lives, was faintly illuminated by the dim glow of phosphorescent rocks. The cubicles on either side of the gallery were scrupulously neat, and he saw entire families gathered about stone tables for their morning meal, apparently oblivious to the fact that the fronts of their quarters were open to scrutiny by anyone who chanced to pass this way.

  Since few of the Ulgos could speak his language, it was impossible for Garion to ask anyone if Errand had passed, and he soon found that he was wandering more or less aimlessly, hoping that he might chance across his friend. At the far end of the gallery, he emerged into the vast cavern where that flight of chiseled stairs led downward toward the dim reaches below.

  He considered the possibility that Errand might have gone down to visit his horse, but something seemed to tell him that he should turn instead to follow the broad ledge circling the edge of the chasm. He had gone no more than a few hundred yards when he heard the sound of voices issuing from the mouth of a dark passageway angling back into the rock face. The shifting echoes made it impossible to distinguish individual words, but it seemed to Garion that one of the voices was Errand’s. He entered the passageway, following the sound alone.

  At first there was no light in the unused gallery, and he put his hand to the rough rock wall to grope his way along; but as he rounded a corner, he saw a light coming from somewhere ahead—a peculiar kind of steady white radiance quite unlike the faint greenish glow of phosphorescence that normally illuminated this dark world of the caves. And then the corridor he was following bent sharply to the left, and he rounded that corner to see Errand talking with a tall, white-robed figure. Garion’s eyes widened. The light he had seen was emanating from that figure, and he felt the awesome presence of a transcendent being.

  The glowing figure did not turn, but spoke in a calm, quiet voice. ‘Join us, Belgarion, and welcome.’

  Garion found that he was actually trembling as he wordlessly obeyed. Then the figure in white turned, and he found himself looking directly into the timeless face of UL himself.

  ‘I have been instructing young Eriond here in the task which lies before him,’ the Father of the Gods said.

  ‘Eriond?’

  ‘It is his true name, Belgarion. It is time for him to put aside the childish name of his boyhood and to assume his true one. Even as thou wert concealed beneath thy simple “Garion,” so hath he lain hidden under that “Errand.” There is wisdom in this, for the true name of a man with a great task lying before him can oft times bring danger when its owner hath not yet come into his inheritance.’

  ‘It’s a good name, don’t you think, Belgarion?’ Eriond said proudly.

  ‘It’s an excellent name, Eriond,’ Garion agreed.

  The Orb, standing on the pommel of the great sword sheathed across Garion’s back, glowed its blue response to the incandescently white radiance of UL, and the God nodded his acknowledgement of the stone.

  ‘Tasks have been set for each of you,’ UL continued, ‘and for the companions who accompany you. All these tasks must be completed ere the meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark may come again.’

  ‘Please, Holy UL,’ Garion said, ‘can you tell me—is my son all right?’

  ‘He is well, Belgarion. The one who holds him will see to his needs. For the moment he is in no danger.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Garion said gratefully. Then he squared his shoulders. ‘And what is my task?’ he asked.

  ‘Thy task hath already been revealed to thee by the Seeress of Kell, Belgarion. Thou must bar the path of Zandramas to the Sardion; for should the Child of Dark reach that dread stone with thy son, the Dark shall prevail in this final meeting.’

  Garion steeled himself and then blurted his next question, afraid of what the answer might be. ‘In the Oracles of Ashaba it says that the Dark God will come again,’ he said. ‘Does that mean that Torak will be reborn and that I’m going to have to fight him again?’

  ‘Nay, Belgarion. My son himself will not return. Thy flaming sword reft him of his life, and he is no more. The enemy in this meeting will be more perilous. The spirit which infused Torak hath found another vessel. Torak was maimed and imperfect by reason of his pride. The one who shall rise in his stead—shouldst thou fail in thy task—will be invincible; and not thy sword nor all the swords in all this world will be enough to withstand him.’

  ‘Then it’s Zandramas that I have to fight,’ Garion said grimly. ‘I’ve got reason enough, that’s certain.’

  ‘The meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark shall not be a meeting between thee and Zandramas,’ UL told him.

  ‘But the Codex says that Zandramas is the Child of Dark,’ Garion protested.

  ‘At this present time, yes—even as at this present time thou art the Child of Light. That burden, however, shall pass from each of you ere the final meeting can take place. Know this, moreover. The event which began with the birth of thy son must be completed in a certain time. The tasks which lie before thee and thy companions are many, and all must be completed ere the time appointed for this meeting. Shouldst thou or any of thy companions fail in the completion of any task, then shall all our striving for uncounted ages come to naught. This final meeting between the Child of Light and the Child of Dark must be complete, and all of the necessary conditions must be met, for it is in this meeting that all that was divided shall be made one again. The fate of this world—and of all other worlds—lies in thy hands, Belgarion, and the outcome will not depend upon thy sword but upon a choice which thou must make.’

  The Father of the Gods looked at the two of them fondly. ‘Be not afraid, my sons,’ he told them, ‘for though you are different in many ways, you share the same spirit. Aid and sustain each other and be comforted in the knowledge that I am with you.’ Then the glowing figure shimmered and was gone, and the caves of Ulgo resounded with an echo like the aftersound of some unimaginably huge bell.

  Chapter Two

  A kind of unthinking serenity had come over Garion, a calm resolve much akin to that which he had felt when he had faced Torak in the decaying ruins of the City of Endless Night half a world away. As he thought back on that dreadful night, he began to grope his way toward a startling truth. The maimed God had not been striving for a purely physical victory. He had been trying with all the dreadful force of his will to force them to submit to him, and it had been their steadfast refusal to yield, more than Garion’s flaming sword, which had defeated him in the end. Slowly, almost like the onset of dawn, the truth came to Garion. Although evil might seem invincible as it stalked the world in darkness, it nonetheless yearned toward the light, and only in the surrender of the light could the darkness prevail. So long as the Child of Light remained firm and unyielding, he was still invincible. As he stood in the dark cave listening to the shimmering aftersound of UL’s departure, Garion seemed to see directly int
o the mind of his enemy. Beneath it all, Torak had been afraid, and even now that same fear gnawed at the heart of Zandramas.

  And then Garion perceived yet another truth, a truth at once enormously simple and at the same time so profound that the scope of it shook every fiber of his being. There was no such thing as darkness! What seemed so vast and overwhelming was nothing more than the absence of light. So long as the Child of Light kept that firmly in mind, the Child of Dark could never win. Torak had known this; Zandramas knew it; and now at last Garion himself understood it, and the knowledge brought with it a surging exultation.

  ‘It gets easier once you understand, doesn’t it?’ the young man they had always called Errand asked quietly.

  ‘You knew what I was thinking, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Does that bother you?’

  ‘No. I suppose not.’ Garion looked around. The gallery in which they stood suddenly seemed very dark now that UL was gone. Garion knew the way back, but the idea which he had just grasped seemed to require some kind of affirmation. He turned his head and spoke directly to the Orb riding on the pommel of his great sword. ‘Could you give us a bit of light?’ he asked it.

  The Orb responded by igniting into blue fire and at the same time filling Garion’s mind with its crystal song. Garion looked at Eriond. ‘Shall we go back now? Aunt Pol was sort of worried when she couldn’t find you.’

  As they turned and followed the deserted gallery back along the way they had come, Garion laid his arm affectionately across his young friend’s shoulders. For some reason they seemed very close just now.

  They emerged from the gallery at the brink of the dim abyss where pale lights dotted the sheer walls and the murmur of a waterfall far below came whispering up to them.

  Garion suddenly remembered something that had happened the day before. ‘What is it about you and water that concerns Aunt Pol so much?’ he asked curiously.