They rode on, pausing only briefly for lunch.
By midafternoon, the clouds that had obscured the skies over Ashaba had dissipated, and the sun came back out again. The path they had been following grew wider and more well-traveled, and it finally expanded into a road. They picked up the pace and made better time.
As evening drew on, they rode some distance back from the road and made their night’s encampment in a small hollow where the light from their fire would be well concealed. They ate, and, immediately after supper, Garion sought his bed. For some reason he felt bone weary.
After half an hour, Ce’Nedra joined him in their tent.
She settled down into the blankets and nestled her head against his back. Then she sighed disconsolately. “It was all a waste of time, wasn’t it?” she said. “Going to Ashaba, I mean.”
“No, Ce’Nedra, not really,” he replied, still on the verge of sleep. “We had to go there so that Velvet could kill Harakan. That was one of the tasks that have to be completed before we get to the Place Which Is No More.”
“Does all that really have any meaning, Garion?” she asked. “Half the time you act as if you believe it, and the other half you don’t. If Zandramas had been there with our son, you wouldn’t have just let her walk away because all the conditions hadn’t been met, would you?”
“Not by so much as one step,” he said grimly.
“Then you don’t really believe it, do you?”
“I’m not an absolute fatalist, if that’s what you mean, but I’ve seen things come out exactly the way the Prophecy said they were going to far too many times for me to ignore it altogether.”
“Sometimes I think that I’ll never see my baby again,” she said in a weary little voice.
“You mustn’t ever think that,” he told her. “We will catch up with Zandramas, and we will take Geran home with us again.”
“Home,” she sighed. “We’ve been gone for so long that I can barely remember what it looks like.”
He took her into his arms, buried his face in her hair, and held her close. After a time she sighed and fell asleep. In spite of his own deep weariness, however, it was quite late before he himself drifted off.
The next day dawned clear and warm. They made their way back to the road again and continued eastward with Iron‑grip’s sword pointing the way.
About midmorning, Polgara called ahead to Belgarath.
“Father, there’s someone hiding off to the side of the road just ahead.”
He slowed his horse to a walk. “Chandim?” he asked tersely.
“No. It’s a Mallorean Angarak. He’s very much afraid -and not altogether rational.”
“Is he planning any mischief?”
“He’s not actually planning anything, father. His thoughts aren’t coherent enough for that.”
“Why don’t you go flush him out, Silk?” the old man suggested. “I don’t like having people lurking behind me ‑sane or not.
“About where is he?” the little man asked Polgara.
“Some distance back in the woods from that dead tree.” she replied.
He nodded. “I’ll go talk with him,” he said. He loped his horse on ahead and reined in beside the dead tree. “We know you’re back there, friend,” he called pleasantly. “We don’t mean you any harm, but why don’t you come out in the open where we can see you?”
There was a long pause.
“Come along now,” Silk called. “Don’t be shy.”
“Have you got any demons with you?” The voice sounded fearful.
“Do I look like the sort of fellow who’d be consorting with demons?”
“You won’t kill me, will you?”
“Of course not. We only want to talk with you, that’s all.”
There was another long, fearful pause. “Have you got anything to eat?” The voice was filled with a desperate need.
“I think we can spare a bit.”
The hidden man thought about that. “All right,” he said finally. “I’m coming out. Remember that you promised not to kill me.” Then there was a crashing in the bushes, and a Mallorean soldier came stumbling out into the road. His red tunic was in shreds, he had lost his helmet, and the remains of his boots were tied to his legs with leather thongs. He had quite obviously neither shaved nor bathed for at least a month. His eyes were wild and his head twitched on his neck uncontrollably. He stared at Silk with a terrified expression.
“You don’t look to be in very good shape, friend,” Silk said to him. “Where’s your unit?”
“Dead, all dead, and eaten by the demons.” The soldier’s eyes were haunted. “Were you at Akkad?” he asked in a terrified voice. “Were you there when the demons came?”
“No, friend. We just came up from Venna.”
“You said that you had something for me to eat.”
“Durnik,” Silk called, “could you bring some food for this poor fellow?”
Durnik rode to the packhorse carrying their stores and took out some bread and dried meat. Then he rode on ahead to join Silk and the fear‑crazed soldier.
“Were you at Akkad when the demons came?” the fellow asked him.
Durnik shook his head. “No,” he replied, “I’m with him.” He pointed at Silk. Then he handed the fellow the bread and meat.
The soldier snatched them and began to wolf them down in huge bites.
“What happened at Akkad?” Silk asked.
“The demons came,” the soldier replied, still cramming food into his mouth. Then he stopped, his eyes fixed on Durnik with an expression of fright. “Are you going to kill me?” he demanded.
Durnik stared at him. “No, man,” he replied in a sick voice.
“Thank you.” The soldier sat down at the roadside and continued to eat.
Garion and the others slowly drew closer, not wanting to frighten the skittish fellow off.
“What did happen at Akkad?” Silk pressed. “We’re going in that direction, and we’d sort of like to know what to expect.”
“Don’t go there,” the soldier said, shuddering. “It’s horrible ‑horrible. The demons came through the gates with howling Karands all around them. The Karands started hacking people to pieces and then they fed the pieces to the demons. They cut off both of my captain’s arms and then his legs as well, and then a demon picked up what was left of him and ate his head. He was screaming the whole time.” He lowered his chunk of bread and fearfully stared at Ce’Nedra. “Lady, are you going to kill me?” he demanded.
“Certainly not!” she replied in a shocked voice.
“If you are, please don’t let me see it when you do. And please bury me someplace where the demons won’t dig me up and eat me.”
“She’s not going to kill you,” Polgara told him firmly.
The man’s wild eyes filled with a kind of desperate longing. “Would you do it then, Lady?” he pleaded. “I can’t stand the horror any more. Please kill me gently -the way my mother would‑ and then hide me so that the demons won’t get me.” He put his face into his shaking hands and began to cry.
“Give him some more food, Durnik,” Belgarath said, his eyes suddenly filled with compassion. “He’s completely mad, and there’s nothing else we can do for him.”
“I think I might be able to do something, Ancient One,” Sadi said. He opened his case and took out a vial of amber liquid. “Sprinkle a few drops of this on the bread you give him, Goodman,” he said to Durnik. “It will calm him and give him a few hours of peace.”
“Compassion seems out of character for you, Sadi,” Silk said.
“Perhaps,” the eunuch murmured, “but then, perhaps you don’t fully understand me, Prince Kheldar.”
Durnik took some more bread and meat from the pack for the hysterical Mallorean soldier, sprinkling them liberally with Sadi’s potion. Then he gave them to the poor man, and they all rode slowly past and on down the road.
After they had gone a ways, Garion heard him calling after them. “Come back! Come back! Somebody -anybody‑ please come back and kill me. Mother, please kill me!”
Garion’s stomach wrenched with an almost overpowering sense of pity. He set his teeth and rode on, trying not to listen to the desperate pleas coming from behind.
They circled to the north of Akkad that afternoon, bypassing the city and returning to the road some two leagues beyond. The pull of the sword Garion held on the pommel of his saddle confirmed the fact that Zandramas had indeed passed this way and had continued on along this road toward the northeast and the relative safety of the border between Katakor and Jenno.
They camped in the forest a few miles north of the road that night and started out once more early the following morning. The road for a time stretched across open fields. It was deeply rutted and still quite soft at the shoulders.