David and Leigh Eddings – Belgarath the Sorcerer

attention to that gate.”

“But we aren’t going back the way we came.”

“Which way are we going then?”

“South, actually–well, southwest would probably be closer.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Trust me.”

He started to swear. Evidently hearing that remark irritated him as

much as it always irritated me.

There were six black-robed Grolims at the north gate, and we made quick

work of them. There were a few muffled cries, of course, and some

fairly pathetic groaning, but the fact that there weren’t any windows

in the houses of Cthol Mishrak kept any people inside from hearing

them.

“All right,” Dras said, wiping his bloody axe on a fallen Grolim, “now

what?”

“Let’s go back to your tunnel.”

“Belgarath,” he objected, “we want to get away from the city.”

“We’ll go out through the gate, crawl through your tunnel, and circle

around the city until we come to the river on the south side of it.”

“There’s a trail around the outside of the wall,” Riva pointed out.

“Why use the tunnel at all?”

“Because the Hounds would pick up our scent. We want them to think

we’ve gone north. We’ll need some time to get out ahead of them.”

“Very clever,” Algar murmured.

“I don’t understand,” Dras said.

“The river’s probably frozen, isn’t it?” Algar asked him.

“I suppose so.”

“Wouldn’t that make it sort of like a highway–without any trees or

hills to slow us down?”

Dras considered it. Then comprehension slowly dawned on his big

face.

“You know, Algar,” he said,

“I think you’re right. Belgarath is a very clever old man.”

“Do you suppose we could congratulate him some other time?” Riva said

to them.

“I’m the one who’s carrying the loot, and I’d like to put some distance

between this place and my backside.”

I saw that I was going to have to rearrange Riva’s thinking.

“Loot” wasn’t really a proper term to use when he was referring to my

Master’s Orb.

We hurried out past the sprawled bodies of the gate-guards, rounded the

bend in the path, and plunged back into the snow-bank on the left side.

It wasn’t too long until we came out of the tunnel at the city wall.

There was a sort of beaten pathway in the snow along the outside of the

wall where Grolims or ordinary Angaraks had been patrolling, and we

followed that eastward until we reached the corner. Then we turned and

followed it south through the drifts toward the river. Altogether, I’d

imagine that it took us about two hours to reach the riverbank.

As I’d been fairly sure it would be, the frozen river was clear of

snow.

It wound like a wide black ribbon through the snow-clogged

countryside.

“That’s lucky,” Dras noted.

“We won’t leave any tracks.”

“That was sort of the idea,” I told him just a bit smugly.

“How did you know that there wouldn’t be about three feet of snow on

top of the ice?” he asked me.

“That blizzard came in out of the west. There’s nothing out there in

that river for the wind to pile snow up behind, so it swept the ice

clean for us. The snow’s probably all stacked up against the mountains

of western Karanda.”

“You think of everything, don’t you, Belgarath?”

“I try. Let’s get out on the ice and head down to the coast. I’m

starting to get homesick.” , We rather carefully brushed out the

tracks we made going down the riverbank. Then we crossed the ice to

the far side to avoid the light of the torches atop the city wall and

started down-river.

We didn’t exactly skate along, but there was a certain amount of

sliding. After about three hours, the murky clouds hovering over the

region began to lighten along the southern horizon.

“The sun’s coming up,” Algar noted.

“Is that going to wake Torak up?”

I wasn’t certain about that.

“I’ll check,” I replied. The passenger riding along between my ears

had told me not to try to talk to him until we were clear of the city.

Well, we were clear now, so I chanced it.

“Do you want to wake up?” I asked.

“Don’t be insulting.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. The question of someone waking up is

looming rather large right now. We’ve got what we came for. Is that

the end of this particular EVENT?”

“More or less. It’s not completely over until you get back across the

Sea of the East.”

“Can you tell me when Torak’s going to wake up?”

“No. You’ll know when it happens.”

“A hint or two would help.”

“Sorry, Belgarath. Just keep going. You’re doing well so far.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t say it very graciously.

“I liked the way you dealt with those two Hounds. It never would have

occurred to me. Where did you come up with the idea?”

“I came out second best in an encounter with a skunk when I was a

boy.

It’s the sort of thing you remember.”

“I can imagine. Keep going, and keep your ears open.” Then it was

gone again.

It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later when I found out what he

meant by keeping my ears open–although I don’t think I would have

missed it even if I’d been asleep. There’s a version of the Book of

Torak that describes what the Dragon God did when he woke up–and Algar

had shrewdly put his finger on when it was going to happen. Evidently

a part of the arrangement between the voice in my head and the one in

Torak’s had been the length of time Torak would remain comatose.

Sunrise is a natural transition, and it was then that old One-eye

finally woke up. We were ten miles away from the city by then, but we

could still hear him as he screamed his fury and then wrecked the

entire city–even going so far as to knock down his own tower. It was

one of the more spectacular temper tantrums in the history of the

world.

“Why don’t we run for a while?” Algar suggested as the awful sound of

the destruction of Cthol Mishrak knocked all the snow off the trees

along the riverbank.

“We are running,” Dras told him.

“Why don’t we run faster?” That was when I found out why Algar was

called Fleet-foot. Lord, that boy could run!

The Book of Alorn tells the story of what happened there in Mallorea.

It’s a very good story, filled with drama, excitement, and mythic

significance.

I’ve recited it myself on any number of occasions. It’s related to

what really happened only by implication, but it’s still a good story.

The fellow who wrote it was an Alorn, after all, and he overstated the

significance of the land-bridge–largely, I suspect, because a pair of

Alorns discovered it.

In actuality, I didn’t even see the land-bridge during that

journey–mainly because there were probably several hundred Angaraks

standing on each one of those rocky islets waiting for us. We had

traveled to Mallorea across the frozen Sea of the East, and we went

back home the same way.

Torak’s outburst–for which I’ll take partial credit, since my goading

as we were leaving his tower undoubtedly contributed to his

rage–completely demoralized the Grolims, Chandim, and ordinary

Angaraks who’d lived in Cthol Mishrak. Beldin has since discovered

that it was ultimately Ctuchik who restored order–with his customary

brutality. It still took him several hours, however, and even then our

ruse diverted him. The Angaraks found the six butchered Grolims at the

north gate, and Ctuchik sent the Hounds off to the north and the west

without stopping to consider the possibility of trickery.

The day up there didn’t last very long, but nightfall didn’t slow the

Alorns and me. We followed Algar on down-river, moving as fast as we

possibly could.

When the sun put in its brief appearance the following day, however,

the Hounds returned to the ruins of Cthol Mishrak and reported to

Ctuchik that they’d found no trace of us. That’s when Torak’s disciple

expanded his search. Inevitably, some sharp-nosed Hound picked up our

scent. Then the chase was on. Ctuchik crammed several hundred

ordinary Grolims into the shape of Hounds, killing about half of them

in the process, and that huge, ravening pack came galloping down the

river after us.

“What are we going to do, Belgarath?” Cherek gasped.

“The boys and I are starting to get winded. I’m not sure how much

longer we’ll be able to run.”

“I’m going to try something,” I told him.

“Let’s stop and catch our breath here while I work out the details.” I

went over it in my mind again.

Riva had ultimate power tucked inside his tunic, but he wasn’t supposed

to use it. If my reasoning was correct, though, he wouldn’t have to.

“All right,” I said, “this is how we’ll work it. Riva, when those

Hounds behind us come into sight, I want you to take out the Orb and