David and Leigh Eddings – Belgarath the Sorcerer

I scowled at the floor of Beldin’s tower for a moment.

“You’d better stay clear of Murgo territory, though, just to be on the

safe side.”

“You’ve got a peculiar idea of “safe,” Belgarath. If I can’t go

through Cthol Murgos, I’ll have to go through Tolnedra, and the legions

won’t like that very much.”

“I’ll swing over to Tol Honeth before I go back to Val Alorn. The

Vorduvians are back in power again, but Ran Vordue the First has been

on the throne only for about a year. I’ll talk with him.”

“Inexperienced people make mistakes, Belgarath.”

“I know, but they usually hesitate before they make them. We’ll be

finished in Nyissa before he makes up his mind.”

Beldin shrugged.

“It’s your war. I’ll see you in Sthiss Tor.”

I flew to Tol Honeth then and went to the Imperial Compound. Some

forged documents identified me as a special emissary of the Alorn

kings, and I got in to see the emperor immediately.

Emperor Ran Vordue I of the Third Vorduvian Dynasty was a youngish man

with deep-sunk eyes and a gaunt face. He was seated on a marble

throne, and he was wearing the traditional gold-colored mantle.

“Welcome to Tol Honeth, Ancient One,” he greeted me. He knew in a

general sort of way who I was, but like most Tolnedrans, he thought my

name was some kind of hereditary title.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries and get to the point, Ran Vordue,” I told

him.

“The Nyissans have assassinated the Rivan King, and the Alorns are

mounting a punitive expedition.”

“What? Why wasn’t I told?”

“You just were. There’s going to be a technical violation of your

borders. I strongly advise you just to let it slide. The Alorns are

feeling belligerent just now. Their business is with the Nyissans, but

if your legions get in their way, they’ll plow them under. The Algars

and Drasnians are going to march south through the Tolnedran Mountains.

Pretend you don’t see them.”

“Can’t this be settled without war?” he asked me rather plaintively.

“I have some very good negotiators at my disposal. They could persuade

Salmissra to pay reparations or something.”

“I’m afraid not, your Majesty. You know how Alorns are. Halfway

measures won’t satisfy them. Just stay out of it.”

“Couldn’t your Alorns go through Murgo territory instead? I’m new on

the throne, Belgarath. If I don’t take some kind of action, I’ll be

viewed as a weakling.”

“Send letters of protest to the Alorn kings. I’ll make them apologize

after it’s all over.” Then an idea came to me.

“Here’s a thought,” I told him.

“If you want to do something muscular to impress the Honeths and the

Horbites, send your legions down to your southern border and seal it

off. Don’t let anybody come across.”

He squinted at me.

“Very clever, Belgarath,” he said.

“You’re using me, aren’t you? If I seal that border, you won’t have

to.”

I grinned at him.

“You’re going to have to do something, Ran Vordue.

The politics of the situation almost demands it. The Honeths will

start calling you Ran Vordue the Chicken-Livered if you don’t march

your legions off in some direction. I guarantee that the Alorns won’t

cross that border, and the other great families might accept the notion

that it was your show of force that kept them out. We’ll both get

something we want that way.”

“You’ve got me over a barrel, Old Man.”

“I know,” I replied.

“It’s up to you, though. You know what’s coming, and you know what

you’d probably better do about it. Oh, one other thing. Who’s the

most deeply involved in the Nyissan trade?”

“The Honeths,” he replied shortly.

“They’re in it up to their ears.

They’ve got millions invested down there.” Then a slow, evil smile

came over his gaunt face.

“A disruption of the Nyissan economy would push the Honeths to the

verge of bankruptcy, you realize.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame? You see, Ran Vordue? Every cloud has its

silver lining. All you have to do is look for it. Well, we’ve both

got things to do, so I won’t bother you any more. Think it over. I’m

sure you’ll come to the right decision.” Then I bowed perfunctorily

and left him to his amusements.

Another one of those early summer storms swept in out of the Great

Western Sea to batter the coast, so it took me almost a week to get

back to Val Alorn. By the time I got there, Valcor had assembled his

fleet and gathered his army. I contacted Beldin, and he advised me

that the Algars and Drasnians had joined forces at the Algarian

stronghold and were marching south. Everything seemed to be on

schedule, so I unleashed Valcor and his berserkers.

The storm had finally passed, and we sailed from Val Alorn under a

bright blue sky. I had a few tense moments when we went through the

Cherek Bore, but otherwise the voyage to the Isle of the Winds was

uneventful.

The meeting between Valcor and Brand there on the wharf was emotional.

Brand had lost his king, and Valcor had lost a brother Alorn monarch.

Valcor suggested a few memorial tankards, but I headed that off

immediately.

“We’re running behind, gentlemen,” I told them crisply.

“Radek and Cho-Ram are already in the Tolnedran Mountains, and it’s a

long way to the mouth of the River of the Serpent. We can do our

drinking after the war. Let’s get the Rivans on board and get

started.”

We sailed southward past Arendia and Tolnedra and anchored just off the

mouth of the River of the Woods. For any number of reasons. Ran

Vordue had followed my suggestion, and his legions were patrolling the

north bank of the river.

We waited there for a couple of days. It was only a short run on down

to the delta of the River of the Serpent, but I didn’t want to alert

the Nyissans by dropping anchor in their coastal waters while we waited

for Radek and Cho-Ram to get into position.

I’d just come up on deck on the morning of the third day when Beldin’s

voice came banging on the side of my head.

“Belgarath! Are you awake?”

“Don’t shout. I can hear you.”

“We’re in place, but let’s give the Drasnian pike men a day or so to

catch their breath. We ran them pretty hard coming down through the

mountains.”

“It’ll take us a few days to get to the mouth of the River of the

Serpent anyway. Stay clear of the Tolnedran border. Ran Vordue has it

sealed off, and we don’t want any incidents with the legions.”

“How did you get him to do that?”

“I pointed out certain advantages to him. Send a strike force south to

block off any escape routes going in that direction. I’ll do the same

from this side, and when those two columns meet, we can get started

with this.”

“Right.”

And that was more or less the way we did it. I’ll be the first to

concede that the Tolnedran Legions were very useful, although they

didn’t really do anything except stand there.

The Nyissans have always believed that their jungles would protect

them. This time they were wrong. We’d run Radek’s pike men to the

verge of exhaustion, but we’d reached Nyissa before the rains set in.

The swamps had nearly dried up, and the trees were parched. The

Nyissans took to the woods, and we simply burned the woods out from

under them.

I’m told that the vast clouds of smoke drifting northward bothered the

Honethites a great deal. They could almost smell their money

burning.

The Vorduvians, Borunes, and Horbites were able to view the matter

philosophically, however.

Wars are never pretty, but the Alorn campaign in Nyissa was

particularly ugly. The Algar cavalry drove the Nyissans ahead of them

like a herd of terrified cows, and when the Nyissans tried to climb

trees to escape them, the Drasnian pike men came along and speared them

out of the branches. The Chereks and Rivans set fires, and when the

panic-stricken Nyissans tried to flee, Valcor’s berserkers simply drove

them back into the flames. Frankly, the whole business sickened me,

but we pushed on anyway.

It was a short, nasty war, and it left Nyissa a smoking wasteland. It

accomplished its purpose, however. Centuries passed before the

Nyissans came out of their hiding places, and that effectively kept

them from meddling in international affairs.

Eventually we encircled Sthiss Tor, and after a couple of days we

captured the city.

Beldin and I ran on ahead and reached Salmissra’s gaudy palace about

three jumps ahead of the vengeful Rivans. We definitely didn’t want

anybody to kill the Serpent Queen–at least not until we’d had a chance

to ask her some questions. We sprinted down the corridor that led to

her throne room, burst into that huge, dimly lighted hall, and closed

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