south onto the plains of Algaria. I was fairly sure I was going to
need them later.
And so, by the midsummer of 4866, Drasnia had perished. When we went
back there after the war, we couldn’t find so much as a single house
still standing, and there were only a few thousand survivors hiding out
in the fens.
When it was over, Kal Torak paused to regroup. Our problem at that
point was trying to guess which way he’d go next. Would he sweep
across the north and invade Cherek? Would he go southwest in an
attempt to reach Arendia by marching across Sendaria? Or would he lead
his hordes south into Algaria? The most frightening prospect of all
was the distinct possibility, given the size of his army, that he’d
simply divide his forces and do all three at the same time.
That strategy would have defeated us. I’m really rather surprised that
he didn’t think of it himself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
King Eldrig of Cherek was an old man with hair gone white and a long
white beard. He stood at the window looking out over the rain-slashed
harbor at Riva. It was about two weeks after we’d managed to extract
the last survivors out of Drasnia.
“You know him, Belgarath,” he said.
“How does he think? What’s he going to do next?”
“I think you’re asking the wrong man, Eldrig,” Rhodar said bitterly.
In many ways, Rhodar of Drasnia was a broken man now. He lived only
for vengeance.
“Holy Belgarath hasn’t had much luck with his guesses lately.”
“That’ll do, Rhodar,” Brand said firmly in that deep quiet voice of
his.
“We’re not here to chew old soup. We’re here to decide what we’re
going to do now, not what we should have done last month.” The
revelation that Brand was going to be the Child of Light during this
particular EVENT had given him a great deal of authority, and the Alorn
kings all automatically deferred to him.
“We know that he’ll ultimately wind up in Arendia,” Ormik of Sendaria
said. Ormik was one of the most ordinary-looking men I’ve ever known.
Even people who knew him probably couldn’t have picked him out of a
crowd.
“Doesn’t that mean that he’ll turn south once he’s regrouped his
forces?”
“And leave his rear exposed?” Eldrig scoffed.
“Not very likely. I think he’ll be at the gates of Val Alorn before
the month’s out.”
“Don’t expect him to do what’s rational,” I told them.
“I think that what happened to Drasnia more than proves that. He had
no business coming through the Nadrak Forest, but he did it anyway. He
doesn’t think the way a human general would.”
“Why did he destroy Drasnia?” Rhodar demanded with tears in his
eyes.
I shrugged.
“Revenge, most likely. The Drasnians almost wiped out the Nadraks in
that battle during the third millennium.”
“That was nearly twenty-five hundred years ago, Belgarath,” Rhodar
protested.
“Torak’s got a very long memory.”
“The main question right now is whether he’ll divide his forces or
not,” Cho-Ram said. Cho-Ram was idly sharpening his saber, and the
sound of his whetstone on steel set my teeth on edge.
“It’s out of character for him,” I said, “but we can’t really be sure
this time.”
“I’m not sure I follow that,” Cho-Ram said, laying his saber and
whetstone down on the table in front of him.
“Torak doesn’t like it when his people get out from under his thumb.
Back before the War of the Gods, the Angaraks were the most tightly
controlled people on earth. Things have changed a bit since then,
though.
Torak’s got disciples now, and he leaves a lot of things up to them.
Ctuchik might suggest a division of forces, and Zedar certainly
would.”
“Would Torak listen to them?” Polgara asked me.
“I can’t really be sure. He wouldn’t like the idea, but he might be
able to see the necessity for it.” I squinted out through the
rain-spattered window.
“This is only a hunch,” I admitted, “but I don’t think he’ll divide up
his army. If he were going to do that, he’d have done it when he came
out of the mountains onto the moors of Drasnia. That would have been
the logical time for him to send a column south into Algaria, but he
didn’t. He tends to have a one-track mind. Obsessive people are like
that, and maybe obsessive Gods are, as well. I just don’t think he’ll
divide his forces. Whichever way he decides to go, he’ll take all his
people with him.
He’s not really here to win battles. He’s here to destroy, and that
takes a lot of troops.”
“Then the only real question is who he’ll destroy next,” Eldrig said.
“I think he’ll attack Cherek.”
“What for?” Cho-Ram demanded.
“All your men are on your war-boats where he can’t get at them. I
think he’ll invade Algaria next. He’s got an appointment he has to
keep in Arendia, and that means he’s got to get past me first.”
“Or me,” Ormik added quietly, “and my people aren’t very warlike.
If he wants to get to Arendia in a hurry, he’ll come through
Sendaria.”
“Isn’t this all a little contemptible?” Rhodar asked pointedly.
“You gentlemen saw what happened to my kingdom, and now you’re all
coming up with reasons why we should mass our forces inside your
borders.”
“Aloria is one, Rhodar,” Eldrig told him.
“We are all aggrieved for what happened to Drasnia.”
“Where were you when I needed you, then?”
“That was my fault, Rhodar,” I told him.
“If you want to throw rocks at somebody, throw them at me and leave
your brother kings out of it.
The Mrin Codex tells us that Torak’s going to lay siege to the Algarian
Stronghold– eventually. It doesn’t tell us if he’s going to go
someplace else first.”
“When does he have to be in Arendia?” Eldrig asked.
“We don’t know,” I replied sourly.
“Does he know?”
“Probably. He’s the one who’s moving this time. We’re making counter
moves
When Cherek and his boys and I went to Cthol Mishrak, we knew when we
had to be there. Torak didn’t know when we were coming. We had the
advantage that time. He’s got it this time.”
“Then about all we can do is wait,” Brand said.
“We’ll have to watch him and stay mobile. Once he starts to move, we
have to be able to respond immediately.”
“That’s not much of a strategy, Brand,” Cho-Ram objected.
“I’ll be happy to listen to alternatives.”
“There is something else we can do,” Polgara told them.
“I think it’s time for us to bring in the other kingdoms–Tolnedra in
particular. We’re going to need the legions.”
“Ran Borune doesn’t like Alorns, Polgara,” Eldrig told her.
“I don’t think he’ll even listen to our diplomats.”
“Maybe not, but I think he will listen to me–and to my father. We’ll
talk to the Arends, as well–and the Nyissans.”
“I wouldn’t waste my time on the Nyissans,” Cho-Ram said
disdainfully.
“They’re so drugged most of the time that they wouldn’t be any good in
a fight.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Cho-Ram,” I told him.
“If I can get one good Nyissan poisoner anywhere near Torak’s field
kitchens, he’ll kill more Angaraks than an entire Tolnedran legion
could.”
“Belgarath!” Cho-Ram exclaimed.
“That’s horrible!”
“So was what happened to Drasnia. Torak’s got us outnumbered, so we’ve
got to come up with ways to even things out.” I stood up.
“Stay flexible, gentlemen. Polgara and I are going south for a
while.”
It took Pol and me more than a week to locate the encampment of the
Asturian duke and his green-clad archers. In part that was due to the
weather. The endless, accursed rain wreathed down through the trees
like mist, obscuring everything on the ground. Even when Pol and I
resumed our own forms for brief periods, she smelled like a bagful of
wet feathers, and I imagine that I reeked like a sodden dog. Neither
of us mentioned it, but we sat on opposite sides of our campfire each
night.
I hesitate to use the word, but it was only by chance that we finally
found the Asturian encampment. A very brief break in the weather
cleared away the prevailing mist, the wind dropped, and Pol was able to
see the smoke rising from their campfires.
The Asturian duke’s name was Eldallan, and he was a lean, youngish man
dressed, as were his men, all in green–people who hide out in a forest
usually do choose that color. The Asturian encampment was quite
extensive. There were a few tents scattered about, but most of the
archers lived in crudely built huts that closely resembled the homes of
the serfs. I suppose there’s a certain justice there. Eldallan’s
archers were young noblemen for the most part, and sleeping in
mud-and-wattle huts gave them a chance to see how the other half
lived.