stirring, but it was really rather secondary. Torak’s understanding
of battle tactics was really quite limited, since he’d never really
engaged in a battle between equally matched forces before. During
the War of the Gods, he’d been outnumbered. During this war, it’d
been the other way around. He’d assumed that the attacks on his
armies would come from his flanks and his rear, and he’d placed
his hordes of Malloreans in the center to reinforce the Murgos,
Nadraks, and Thulls when necessary. The suicidal charge of the
Mimbrates prevented the Malloreans from meeting other dangers,
and it forced Torak, surrounded and outmaneuvered, to accept
Brand’s challenge, the one thing he really didn’t want to do.
Then Zedar tried again, as a deer this time. I’ve always had some
suspicions about that. Given Zedar’s nature, isn’t it possible that he
was simply trying to run away? The form of a deer was a serious
blunder, however, as I’m sure Zedar realized when father
started biting chunks out of his haunches.
Our combined forces inexorably tightened around the Angaraks.
Torak’s army began to suffer dreadful casualties. Individual
Angarak soldiers began to look longingly at the far banks of the River
Arend. I now saw why Kal Torak had so feared this third day of
battle.
I’ll concede that father’s generalship during the battles was
masterly. He countered the enemy’s every move almost before Zedar
made it. The charge of the Mimbrate knights was decimating the
Malloreans, but even before Zedar could issue orders to the Murgos,
father unleashed Beltira and his combined force of Algars, Drasnians
and Ulgo irregulars, effectively pinning down the most numerous
of the Western Angaraks.
With the legions and Eldrig’s Cherek berserkers marching up the
Valley, Zedar didn’t dare weaken his right flank by ordering the
Nadraks and Thulls to come in and reinforce the Malloreans. The
only available force Zedar had left were his reserves, and once he
committed them to the battle raging before the city gates, Belkira
was free to advance against the Angarak rear.
It was at that stage of the battle that mother and I, still merged in
our assumed form, drifted across the bloody ground toward Torak’s
pavilion. Battlefield intelligence has always been sketchy at best.
Many a battle has been lost simply because ordinary generals have
to wait for couriers or scouts to report enemy movements before
they can respond. Father didn’t have that problem. The rest of us
could – and did communicate with him directly and almost
instantaneously. Moreover, mother and I could eavesdrop on Torak and
Zedar and pass along what we heard, so father could counter
Zedar’s moves before he even made them.
Zedar was pleading with Torak to arm himself and go out of
the pavilion to strengthen Angarak resolve, but the Dragon-God
adamantly refused, since this was the day he’d so long feared.
I’ve looked into the Ashabine Oracles recently, and I can’t for the
life of me see how Torak erred so profoundly in his interpretation
of certain passages. He evidently assumed automatically that he was
– and almost always would be the Child of Dark. Then, by
extenSion, he leapt to the conclusion that the Child of Light would always
be the Rivan King, Iron-grip’s heir. That combination did take place
at Cthol Mishrak when Garion ultimately destroyed Torak, but that
was a different EVENT, and it took place in a different war, some
five hundred years later. Torak evidently confused the two, and that
was the error that won the day for us at Vo Mimbre.
Despite Zedar’s shrill importunings, Torak himself remained quite
calm. ‘It is not yet time for me to go forth to confront mine enemies,
Zedar,’ he said. ‘As I have told thee, this day is in the hands Of pure
chance. I do further assure thee, however, that one EVENT shall
precede my meeting with the Child of Light, and in that EVENT
shall I prevail, for it shall be a contest of Wills, and my Will doth
far outstrip the Will of the one who shall contend with me. That is
the contest which shall decide this day’s outcome.’
Merged though we were, some of mother’s thought still remained
concealed from me, but I did catch a faint tightening of her resolve.
Mother was obviously preparing herself for something, and she was
deliberately keeping it from me.
‘I must reinforce the Malloreans, Master,’ Zedar was saying with
a note of desperation. ‘Have I thy permission to commit such forces
as we are holding in reserve?’
‘As it seemeth best to thee, Zedar,’ Torak replied with that
Godlike indifference that must have driven his disciple wild.’
Zedar went to the entrance of the pavilion and issued his
commands to the couriers posted outside. A short while later, the
Angarak reserves began their march toward the battle raging before the
city gates – even as the Chereks and General Cerran’s legions broke
through the Nadrak lines to come to the aid of the Mimbrate
knights.
Then, as the confusion on the battlefield increased, father added
to it by telling uncle Belkira to unleash the Rivans, Sendars and
Asturian archers who’d been concealed in the forest to the north.
Bleak and silent, they emerged to occupy the positions Zedar’s
reserves had just vacated.
The messengers, all bearing bad news, almost had to line up
outside the iron pavilion at that point.
‘Lord Zedar!’ the first exclaimed in a shrill voice, ‘King, Ad rak
Cthoros is slain, and the Murgos are in confusion!’
‘Lord Zedar!’ the second courier interrupted, ‘the Nadraks and
Thulls are in disarray and do attempt to take flight!’
‘Lord Zedar!’ the third bearer of bad tidings broke in, the force
to our north is vast! There are Asturian archers with them, and their
longbows will obliterate our reserves! Our center is in deadly peril,
and the reserves will be unable to come to their aid! We cannot
attack the archers, because they are protected by Sendars and
Rivans!
‘Rivans!’ Torak roared. ‘The Rivans have come to this place to
confront me?’
‘Yea, most Holy,’ the now terrified messenger replied. ‘The grey,
cloaks do march with the Sendars and Asturians upon our rear! Our
fate is sealed!’
‘Kill him,’ Torak told one of the Grolims standing in attendance.
,It is not the place of a messenger to speculate.’
Two Grolims, their eyes alight with fanatic zeal, fell upon the
unfortunate messenger, their knives flashing. He groaned, and then
fell to the floor.
‘Doth he who stands at the forefront of the Rivans bear a sword?’
Torak demanded of the other messengers, who all stood ashen faced
and staring at their fallen compatriot.
‘Yea, oh my God,’ one of them replied, his voice squeaky with
terror.
‘And doth that sword flame in his hands?’
‘Nay, my God. It doth seem but an ordinary sword.’
‘Now is my victory assured!’ Torak exulted.
‘My Lord?’ Zedar sounded baffled.
‘He who doth come against me is not the Rivan King, Zedar! It
is not the Godslayer whom I must face this day! His sword is but
common iron, and it is not infused by the might of Cthrag Yaska!
Verily, upon this day I will prevail. Bid my servants arm me, Zedar,
for now I will go forth from this place, and the world shall be mine!’
‘Father!’ I almost shouted the thought. Torak’s coming out!’
‘Of course he is, Pol,’ father replied smugly. ‘That’s just the way I
planned it.’ Trust father to take credit for almost anything that
happens. ‘Come out of there now. It’s time for you and me to join Brand.
Don’t dawdle, Pol. We don’t want to be late.’
‘I do wish he’d grow up.’ Mother’s thought was almost clinical as
we wriggled back out of the narrow window. Things were moving
very fast now, but I still had time to develop a strong suspicion that
something was about to happen that I wouldn’t like. That suspicion
was powerfully reinforced by the fact that this time, mother
remained merged with me when we discarded our owl. She’d never
done that before, and she adamantly refused to explain it.
Brand was evidently in the grip of that powerful awareness that’s
characteristic of the Children of Light. He seemed almost inhumanly
calm and completely detached from what was about to happen.
Immediately after father arrived, however, Brand’s expression and
manner abruptly changed. His face took on a look of inhuman
resolve, and when he spoke it was in a voice of thunder or the deep
subterranean roar of an earthquake. ‘In the name of Belar I defy
thee, Torak, maimed and accursed! In the name of Aldur also I cast
my despite into thy teeth! Let the bloodshed be abated, and I will
meet thee – man against God – and I shall prevail against thee!
Before thee I cast my gage! Take it up or stand exposed as craven
before men and Gods!’
Torak, with Zedar close behind him, had come out of that