“Will it be now, Zandramas?” Poledra asked in a deadly voice. “Is this the time you have chosen for our meeting? You know even as I that should we meet at the wrong time and in the wrong place, we will both be destroyed.”
“I do not fear thee, Poledra!” the sorceress shrieked.
“Nor I you. Come then, Zandramas, let us destroy each other here and now ‑for should the Child of Light go on to the Place Which Is No More unopposed and find no Child of Dark awaiting him there, then I triumph!
If this be the time and place of your choosing, bring forth your power and let it happen ‑for I grow weary of you.”
The face of Zandramas was twisted with rage, and Garion could feel the force of her will building up. He tried to reach over his shoulder for his sword, thinking to unleash its fire and blast the hated sorceress from atop her crag, but even as Ce’Nedra’s apparently were, he found that his muscles were all locked in stasis. From behind him he could feel the others also struggling to shake free of the force which seemed to hold them in place as well.
“No,” Poledra’s voice sounded firmly in the vaults of his mind. “This is between Zandramas and me. Don’t interfere.”
“Well, Zandramas,” she said aloud then, “What is your decision? Will you cling to life a while longer, or will you die now?”
The sorceress struggled to regain her composure, even as the glowing nimbus about Poledra grew more intense.
Then Zandramas howled with enraged disappointment and disappeared in a flash of orange fire.
“I thought she might see it my way,” Poledra said calmly. She turned to face Garion and the others. There was a twinkle in her golden eyes. “What took you all so long?” she asked. “I’ve been waiting for you here for months.” She looked rather critically at the half‑naked Belgarath, who was staring at her with a look of undisguised adoration. “You’re as thin as a bone, Old Wolf,” she told him. “You really ought to eat more, you know.” She smiled fondly at him. “Would you like to have me go catch you a nice fat rabbit?” she asked. Then she laughed, shimmered back into the form of the blue wolf, and loped away, her paws seeming scarcely to touch the earth.
Here ends Book III of The Malloreon.