almost never saw the sun.
Several months after that eclipse, Beldin came back from Mallorea with
some news we’d all been waiting for. He clumped, dripping, up the
stairs to my workshop.
“Miserable weather,” he muttered.
“I haven’t been really dry for the last three months. Have you got
anything to drink?
I think I’m chilled all the way to the bone.”
“I don’t happen to have anything right now,” I told him.
“Why don’t you go call on the twins?”
“Later, maybe.” He slumped down in a chair by the fire and pulled off
his soggy shoes.
“It’s finally happened, Belgarath,” he told me, wriggling his toes.
“What has?”
“Old Burnt-face has finally come out of Ashaba.”
“Where did he go?”
“Mal Zeth. Where else? He’s deposed the current emperor and taken
personal command of the Mallorean Empire.” He sneezed.
“You’re the expert on Old Angarak. What does the word
“Kal” mean?”
“King and God. It’s a Grolim usage that was fairly prevalent at Korim.
It’s sort of fallen into disuse–probably because Torak’s been holed up
at Ashaba for the last three eons or so.”
“Burnt-face has a long memory, then. He calls himself
“Kal Torak” now, and he’s making sure that everybody in Mallorea
recognizes the name.”
“Is he mobilizing?”
“Not yet. At the moment, he’s busy de secularizing Mallorea. He’s
reintroduced the joys of religion. Urvon’s having a field day. His
Grolims are butchering everybody they can lay their hands on. The
temples from Camat to Gandahar are running knee-deep in blood.”
“Let’s go talk with the twins. We’d better see what the Mrin has to
say about this.”
“You’d also better hustle your tail feathers north to warn the
Alorns.”
“In a bit. I want to look at the Mrin first.”
“I don’t have much time, Belgarath. I’ve got to go back to Mallorea. I
don’t want Kal Torak to sneak up on you with several million
Malloreans.”
“I’m almost sure I’ll hear him coming.”
“Where’s Pol now?”
“At Aldurford in northern Algaria.”
“You’d better tell her to come home.”
“We’ll see. I’m not going to do anything until I find out what the
Mrin has to say.”
The twins became very excited when Beldin told them that Torak had
finally come out of Ashaba, and they immediately went to work. Beldin
stumped around, growing increasingly impatient.
“Please, brother,” Beltira told him, looking up from his copy of the
Mrin, “sit down someplace. We’re trying to concentrate.” It was one
of the few times I’ve ever seen either of the twins display anything
remotely resembling irritability.
After about an hour, Belkira slapped his hand down on the Darine
triumphantly.
“Here it is!” he exclaimed.
“I thought I remembered it.”
“What does it say?” Beltira demanded.
“It’s that passage about the eclipse. It says,
“Behold! The sun shall fall dark, and the sky shall endlessly weep,
and it shall be a sign that the King returneth, and the God, also.”
“It got the part about the sky weeping pretty close,” Beldin noted.
“We misread it,” Beltira confessed.
“It’s only talking about one of them, not both.”
“Will you two please try to make sense?” Beldin exploded.
“We’ve been looking in the wrong direction,” Beltira explained.
“We thought the passage meant that the Rivan King would reemerge and
that Torak would come out of Ashaba at the same time. It doesn’t have
anything to do with the Rivan King, though. It’s only talking about
Torak, since he’s both King and God in Angarak. That eclipse and the
foul weather we’ve had since then warned us that this was coming, but
Iron-grip’s heir’s over fifty years old right now, so we discounted the
possibility.
We’re sorry, Belgarath.”
“I’d have probably missed it, as well, Beltira. Don’t blame
yourselves.
Where’s the corresponding passage in the Mrin?”
Belkira checked their concordance, took up the third scroll of the
Mrin, and unrolled it until he found the index mark he was looking
for.
“It’s right here,” he said, handing me the scroll and pointing at the
mark.
“Behold!” I read it aloud.
“In the day that the sun falls dark at noon and the skies are veiled
shall the King reemerge, and shall he journey to the seat of power and
put aside the one who hath stood in his stead.”” “I can see how you
missed that one, brothers,” Beldin said to the twins.
“It’s ambiguous enough so that it could very well mean the Rivan King.
What does it say next, Belgarath?”
“And he shall confer with his tributary kings,” I read on, “instructing
all in that which they must do, and in the fullness of time shall he
gather his forces and shall move to confront the other Child. And the
one of them shall be a God, and the other shall be like unto a God, and
the jewel shall decide the outcome in the lands of the children of the
Bull-God.”
“Arendia?” Beldin said.
“Why Arendia?”
“There’ve been hints of that before,” Beltira said.
“Something important’s going to happen in Arendia.”
“What else does it say?” Beldin asked me.
I read the next line, and then I started to swear.
“What’s wrong?” Beldin demanded.
“It just broke off. Now it’s talking about “the Mother of the Race
That Died.”” “Beltira and I’ll work with it some more,” Belkira told
me.
“We know enough to get started, Belgarath,” Beldin said.
“You and I both have things to do, and the twins can work better
without the two of us hanging over their shoulders. I’m going back to
Mallorea. You’d better go alert the Alorns–and find a safer place to
hide Polgara. There’s nothing at Aldurford but the river and a lot of
open grassland.”
I grunted and stood up.
“You’re probably right,” I agreed.
“I don’t care much for running off on just a few hints, but there’s no
help for it, I guess.”
“We’ll stay in touch,” Beltira promised.
“We’ll let you or Pol know just as soon as we pinpoint anything else
that seems significant.”
“I’d really appreciate that, brother,” I replied.
I flew north from the Vale to the Algarian Stronghold and found out
from the caretakers there that Cho-Ram XIV, the current chief of the
Clan-Chiefs of Algaria, was in the vicinity of Lake Atun up near the
Drasnian border.
I’m sure that name rings a bell. Royal families habitually repeat
names.
It’s a silly custom, but at least it doesn’t strain anybody’s
creativity.
It took me only two days to locate the fourteenth Cho-Ram. He was a
fairly young man, and he customarily wore clothing made of horsehide
and shaved his head–except for a flowing scalp-lock that hung down his
back like the tail of a horse. Now that I think back on it, he looked
a great deal like Cho-Hag’s adopted son, Hettar.
“It’s about time” was all he said when I told him that Torak was
coming. He was obviously a true descendant of the close-mouthed Algar
Fleet-foot.
“He isn’t coming to pay a social call,” I said acidly.
“I know.” Then he grinned wolfishly at me.
Alorns!
“You’d better gather your clans,” I advised.
“How long have we got?”
“I’m not sure. Mallorea’s a big place, and it’s going to take Torak a
while to gather his forces. Beldin’s there, though, so he’ll be able
to give us a little advance notice.”
“That’s all we really need, isn’t it? I’ll call the clans in, and
we’ll all go down to the Stronghold. I’ll be there when you need
me.”
“Is Khalan still king in Drasnia?”
“No. He died last fall. His son Rhodar wears the crown.”
“I’d better go to Boktor and talk with him. Keep a sharp eye on the
Eastern Escarpment. Something important’s going to happen in Arendia,
so the Murgos might come down the cliff to try to soften you up before
Torak gets here. You’re sitting on his logical invasion route.”
“Good.”
“Good? What do you mean, good?”
“I won’t have to go looking for him.”
“Was your grandmother an Arend, by any chance?”
“Belgarath! What a thing to suggest!”
“Never mind. Get to work. I’ll go talk with Rhodar, and then go to
Val Alorn and see Eldrig.”
Notice that I’d already broad-jumped my way to an erroneous
conclusion.
Both Mishrak ac Thull and Algaria were open grasslands, and Torak was
going to be leading a very large army. It didn’t even occur to me that
he’d try to take all those troops through the Nadrak Forest.
Rhodar I of Drasnia was not nearly as corpulent as his namesake five
centuries later, but he was still fairly stout. He was a descendant of
Bull neck, though, so a certain bulk was understandable. We ran a lot
of that off him during the next twenty or so years. I alerted him to
what was happening in Mallorea and then left him mapping out his
defenses with his generals while I flew on to Val Alorn.
King Eldrig of Cherek was not exactly what you’d call a true