It needed a bit more, however, something suitably spectacular to penetrate the solid bone Arends used for heads.
Almost negligently, Garion discarded his invincible lance, reached back over his shoulder and drew the mighty sword of the Rivan King. The Orb of Aldur blazed forth its dazzling bluelight, and the sword itself immediately burst into flame. As always, despite its vast size, the sword in his hand had no apparent weight, and he wielded it with blinding speed.
He drove directly at one startled knight, chopping the amazed man’s lance into foot-long chunks as he worked his way up the weapon’s shaft. When only the butt remained, Garion smashed the knight from his saddle with the flat of the burning sword. He wheeled then, chopped an upraised mace neatly in two and rode the bearer of the mace into the ground, horse and all.
Stunned by the ferocity of his attack, the wide-eyed Mimbrate knights drew back. It was not merely his overwhelming prowess in battle, however, that made them retreat. From between clenched teeth, the King of Riva was swearing sulfurously, and his choice of oaths made strong men go pale.
He looked around, his eyes ablaze, then gathered in his will. He raised his flaming sword and pointed it at the roiling sky overhead. “NOW!” he barked in a voice like the cracking of a whip.
The clouds shuddered, almost seeming to flinch as the full force of Belgarion’s will smote them. A sizzling bolt of lightning as thick as the trunk of a mighty tree crashed to earth with a deafening thunderclap that shook the ground for miles in every direction. A great, smoking hole appeared in the turf where the bolt had struck. Again and again Garion called down the lightning. The noise of thunder ripped and rolled through the air, and the reek of burning sod and singed earth hung like a cloud over the suddenly terrified armies.
Then a great, howling gale struck; at the same time, the clouds ripped open to inundate the opposing forces in a deluge so intense that many knights were actually hurled from their saddles by the impact. Even as the gale shrieked and the driving downpour struck them, flickering bolts of lightning continued to stagger across the field which separated them, sizzling dreadfully and filling the air with steam and smoke. To cross that field was unthinkable.
Grimly, Garion sat his terrified charger in the very midst of that awful display, with the lightning dancing around him. He let it rain on the two armies for several minutes until he was certain that he had their full attention; then, with a negligent flick of his flaming sword, he turned off the downpour.
“I have had enough of this stupidity!” he announced in a voice as loud as the thunder had been. “Lay down your weapons at once!”
They stared at him and then distrustfully at each other.
“AT ONCE!” Garion roared, emphasizing his command with yet another lightning bolt and a shattering thunderclap.
The clatter of suddenly discarded weapons was enormous.
“I want to see Sir Embrig and Sir Mandorallen righthere,” Garion said then, pointing with his sword at a spot directly in front of his horse. ” Immediately!”
Slowly, almost like reluctant schoolboys, the two steelclad knights warily approached him.
“Just exactly what do the two of you think you’re doing?” Garion demanded of them.
“Mine honor compelled me, your Majesty.” sir Embrig declared in a faltering voice. He was a stout, florid-faced man of about forty with the purple-veined nose of one who drinks heavily. “Sir Mandorallen hath abducted my kinswoman.”
“Thy concern for the lady extendeth only to thy authority over her person,” Mandorallen retorted hotly. “Thou hast usurped her lands and chattels with churlish disregard for her feelings, and-”
“All right,” Garion snapped, “that’s enough. Your personal squabble has brought half of Arendia to the brink of war. Is that what you wanted? Are you such a pair of children that you’re willing to destroy your homeland just to get your own way?”
“But-” Mandorallen tried to say.
“But nothing.” Garion then proceeded -at some length- to tell them exactly what he thought of them. His tone was scornful, and his choice of language wide-ranging. The two frequently went pale as he spoke. Then he saw Lelldorin drawing cautiously near to listen.
“And you!” Garion turned his attention to the young Asturian. “What areyou doing down here in Mimbre?”
“Me? Well -Mandorallenis my friend, Garion.”
“Did he ask for your help?”
“Well- ”
“I didn’t think so. You just took it on yourself.” He then included Lelldorin in his commentary, gesturing often with the burning sword in his right hand. The three watched that sword with a certain wide-eyed anxiety as he waved it in their faces.
“Very well, then,” Garion said after he had cleared the air, “this is what we’re going to do.” He looked belligerently at Sir Embrig. “Do you want to fight me?” he challenged, thrusting out his jaw pugnaciously.
Sir Embrig’s face went a pasty white, and his eyes started from his head.”Me, your Majesty?” he gasped. “Thou wouldst haveme take the field against the Godslayer?” He began to tremble violently.
“I didn’t think so.” Garion grunted. “Since that’s the case, you’ll immediately relinquish all claim of authority over the Baroness Nerina tome.”
“Most gladly, your Majesty.” Embrig’s words tumbled over themselves as they came out.
“Mandorallen,” Garion said, “doyou want to fight me?”
“Thou art my friend, Garion,” Mandorallen protested. “I would die before I raised my hand against thee.”
“Good. Thenyou will turn all territorial claims on behalf of the baroness over to me -at once.I am her protector now.”
“I agree to this,” Mandorallen replied gravely.
“Sir Embrig,” Garion said then, “I bestow upon you the entirety of the Barony of Vo Ebor -including those lands which would normally go to Nerina. Will you accept them?”
“I will, your Majesty.”
“Sir Mandorallen, I offer you the hand in marriage of my ward, Nerina of Vo Ebor. Will you accept her?”
“With all my heart, my Lord,” Mandorallen choked, with tears coming to his eyes.
“Splendid,” Lelldorin said admiringly.
“Shut up, Lelldorin,” Garion told him. “That’s it, then, gentlemen. Your war is over. Pack up your armies and go home -and if this breaks out again, I’ll come back. The next time I have to come down here, I’m going to bevery angry. Do we all understand each other?”
Mutely they nodded.
That ended the war.
The Baroness Nerina, however, raised certain strenuous objections when she was informed of Garion’s decisions upon the return of Mandorallen’s army to Vo Mandor. “Am I some common serf girl to be bestowed upon any man who pleases my lord?” she demanded with a fine air of high drama.
“Are you questioning my authority as your guardian?” Garion asked her directly.
“Nay, my Lord. Sir Embrig hath consented to this. Thou art my guardian now. I must do as thou commandest me.”
“Do you love Mandorallen?”
She looked quickly at the great knight and then blushed.
“Answer me!”
“I do, my Lord,” she confessed in a small voice.
“What’s the problem then? You’ve loved him for years, but when I order you to marry him, you object.”
“My Lord,” she replied stimy, “there are certain proprieties to be observed. A lady may not be so churlishly disposed of. ” And with that she turned her back and stormed away.
Mandorallen groaned, and a sob escaped him.
“What is it now?” Garion demanded.
“My Nerina and I will never be wed, I fear,” Mandorallen declared brokenly.
“Nonsense. Lelldorin, do you understand what this is all about?”
Lelldorin frowned. “I think so, Garion. There are a whole series of rather delicate negotiations and formalities that you’re leaping over here. There’s the question of the dowry, the formal, written consent of the guardian -that’s you, of course- and probably most important, there has to be a formal proposal -with witnesses.”
“She’s refusing over technicalities?” Garion asked incredulously.
“Technicalities are very important to a woman, Garion.”
Garion sighed with resignation. This was going to take longer than he had thought. “Come with me,” he told them.
Nerina had locked her door and refused to answer Garion’s polite knock. Finally he looked at the stout oak planks barring his way. “Burst!” he said, and the door blew inward, showering the startled lady seated on the bed with splinters.
“Now.” Garion said, stepping over the wreckage, “let’s get down to business. How big a dowry do we think would be appropriate?”
Mandorallen was willing -more than willing- to accept some mere token, but Nerina stubbornly insisted upon something significant. Wincing slightly, Garion made an offer acceptable to the lady. He then called for pen and ink and scribbled -with Lelldorin’s aid- a suitable document of consent. “Very well,” he said then to Mandorallen, “ask her.”
” Such proposal doth not customarily come with such unseemly haste, your Majesty,” Nerina protested. “It is considered proper for the couple to have some time to acquaint themselves with each other.”