Ildera’s false labor turned into the real thing. There were other
women in the village who knew what to do, of course, and Garion was
born shortly after midnight on Erastide.
And Polgara, searching for Alara, was miles away!
That was when that familiar voice inside my head alerted me.
“Belgarath!” It almost shouted,
“Go to Annath immediately! The Child of Light is in danger!”
It didn’t have to tell me twice. I was in Muros at the time, and it
took me about a quarter of an hour to get out of town and sprout
feathers. I almost tore my wings off trying to make good time, but I
got there too late.
Following Ildera’s delivery, the village women had done what women do
after the birth of a child, and then they’d gone home. It was a
holiday, after all, and there was cooking to be done. You see how
shrewdly Chamdar’d planned everything?
It was just about dawn, and I was still winging my way in from Muros.
Geran, Ildera, and Garion were alone in their little house, and that
was when Chamdar made his move.
He set fire to the house.
It was a stone house, but Chamdar was a Grolim–and stone will burn if
you make the fire hot enough.
To this day, I can’t be entirely certain if Chamdar knew what Geran
would do once he realized that there was no way he and Ildera could
escape. It’s entirely possible that he’d given up his wild notion of
delivering the Rivan King to Torak and had decided instead to follow
Ctuchik’s instructions simply to kill Iron-grip’s heir.
The doors and windows of the house were all engulfed in flames, and
Geran, probably already in agony, realized that there was no possible
way he could save himself or his wife, but there was a faint chance
that he could save their son. His tools were in the house, and he was
a stonecutter.
As closely as I can determine, he took up his hammer and chisel and
chopped a small hole through the wall down close to the ground.
Then, even as he was dying, he seized up the blanket-wrapped baby and
pushed that precious bundle out through the hole he’d made.
And that was when I got there, just as dawn was breaking.
Either Chamdar had known what was going to happen, or he simply seized
an opportunity when it presented itself. He dashed in, picked up the
blanket-protected infant, and fled back out of range of the fire.
Even as I was changing form in that snow-clogged street, I took in
everything that was happening. I came very close at that point to
doing something that’s absolutely forbidden. I was right on the verge
of obliterating Chamdar with the sheer force of my Will. I think that
the only thing that pulled me back from that fatal mistake was the fact
that I wanted to kill that murderous Grolim with my bare hands. I
howled in fury as I ran through the snow at him, and that gave him just
the moment of warning he needed. I’d often wished that I’d kept my
mouth shut.
Chamdar spun around, his eyes wide with fright.
“You!” he cried as I bore down on him with murder written all over my
face. And then he did the only thing he could think of to save his own
life.
He threw the baby at me.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Chamdar’s panic-stricken response at that point altered the course of
history. In order to save his own life, he threw the infant Garion to
safety. Had he been just a little more dedicated, he’d have turned and
thrown the baby back into the fire.
My own dedication was a little stronger. I choked back my homicidal
rage long enough to snatch the hurtling little bundle out of the air,
and that gave Chamdar enough time to escape. I made a desperate leap
to catch Garion, rolling in the dirt in the process, and by the time I
looked back, Chamdar was gone. My howl of frustration woke everyone in
the still-sleeping village, I think.
I have it on fairly good authority that it was precisely at that moment
that Barak underwent his first metamorphosis up there in Cherek. It
was momentary, but he did change over into the Dreadful Bear for a
while.
Garion was in danger at that point, and, all unthinking, Barak
responded in the way he was supposed to. He was boar-hunting at the
time, and he’d spent the night carousing with some friends. He was
still fairly drunk, so all that he really remembers is waking up out in
the woods standing over the half-eaten carcass of a wild pig.
Several of his hunting companions, however, were a bit more sober.
I’m told that most of them took the pledge at that point and lived out
the rest of their lives in total and absolute sobriety.
“Father!” Polgara’s voice came to me.
“You’d better get back here, Poll Right now!”
Then I knelt on the ground and unwrapped the baby I’d just grabbed out
of midair. So far as I could tell, Garion was all right. He wasn’t
even crying. His expression was grave as he looked at me, and when our
eyes met for the first time, I felt a powerful jolt at the very center
of my being.
I was suddenly filled with a kind of wonder; there was no question
whatsoever that he was the one we’d all been waiting for.
Then I looked at the burning house, hoping that there still might be a
chance to save Geran and Ildera, but it was clearly hopeless. I felt
no signs of life in the midst of that fire. I broke down and wept.
Pol found me kneeling in tears beside the baby.
“What happened, father?” she demanded.
“It was Chamdar!” I almost shouted at her.
“Use your eyes, Poll
What were you thinking of? Why did you go off like that?” I’ve always
regretted that outburst.
Pol’s eyes grew stricken as my accusation struck her full in the
face.
She looked at the blazing house.
“Is there any hope at all?” she asked me.
“None. They’re both dead.”
And that was when Polgara broke down.
“I’ve failed, father!” she wailed.
“I had the most important task in history, and I failed!”
I choked back my own grief.
“There’s no time for that now, Poll” I told her sharply.
“We have to get the baby away from here. Chamdar got away from me, and
he could be almost anywhere.”
“Why did you let him escape?”
“I didn’t have any choice. I had to save the baby. There’s nothing we
can do here. Let’s move!”
She bent and picked up Garion with that peculiar tenderness she’s
always demonstrated in caring for a long series of infants that were
not really her own. When she straightened, her eyes were steely.
“Chamdar’s got a lot to answer for.”
“That he does, Pol, and I’ll do my best to make sure that his answering
takes at least a week. What happened to Alara?”
“She walked off the edge of a cliff. She’s dead, father.”
My rage flared up again.
“I’ll add another week to what I’m going to do to Chamdar for that,” I
promised.
“Good! I’ll take the baby. You go after Chamdar.”
I shook my head.
“Not a chance, Pol. I’ve got to get you two to safety first. Our main
responsibility’s wrapped up in that blanket. Let’s go.”
Pol and I left the village and took to the woods, avoiding all the
roads and anything even remotely resembling a path. It wasn’t a
pleasant trip at that time of year, and I solved the problem of feeding
Garion by the simple expedient of stealing a she-goat from an isolated
farmstead.
Eventually we made our way down out of the mountains, and I took Pol
back to her house at Erat. Then I went some distance away and summoned
the twins, speaking so cryptically that I wasn’t entirely positive that
they’d understand what I was saying. I could only hope that they’d get
the point when I told them that I needed them at “the rose garden.”
Then I went back to Pol’s thicket-enclosed house.
“They should be along shortly,” I told her.
“I’ll stay until they get here.”
“I’ll be all right, father. Don’t let Chamdar get away.”
“It’s more important not to let him get behind me. I’ll stay. Don’t
argue with me about it.” I looked out the window at her winter-browned
rose thicket.
“I think your house here is too isolated to be entirely safe.
Wait out the winter and then go find some remote village or farmstead
and submerge yourself among the Sendars. Don’t do anything to attract
attention until I’ve dealt with Chamdar.”
“Whatever you say, father.”
It always makes me nervous when Pol takes that submissive attitude.
The twins had deciphered my message, and they arrived the next morning.