“You weren’t really trying to stop us, then?” she asked.
Chamdar laughed. “Stop you? I’ve been trying to help you. Ctuchik and Zedar both have underlings here in the West. I’ve delayed and deceived them at every turn just so you could get through. I knew that sooner or later Belgarath would find it necessary to pursue the Orb alone, and when that happened, I could take you and the boy.”
“For what purpose?”
“You still don’t see?” he asked. “The first two things Lord Torak sees when he awakens will be his bride and his mortal enemy, kneeling in chains before him. I’ll be exalted above all for so royal a gift.”
“Let the others go then,” she said.
“The others don’t concern me,” Chamdar said. “I’ll leave them with the noble Kador, I don’t imagine he’ll find it convenient to keep them alive, but that’s up to him. I’ve got what I want.”
“You swine!” Aunt Pol raged helplessly. “You filthy swine!”
With a bland smile Chamdar slapped her sharply across the face. “You really must learn to control your tongue, Polgara,” he said. Garion’s brain seemed to explode. Dimly he saw Durnik and the others being restrained by the legionnaries, but no soldier seemed to consider him a danger. He started toward his enemy without thinking, reaching for his dagger.
“Not that way!” It was that dry voice in his mind that had always been there, but the voice was no longer passive, disinterested.
“I’ll kill him!” Garion said silently in the vaults of his brain.
“Not that way!” the voice warned again. “They won’t let you – not with your knife. ”
“How, then?”
“Remember what Belgarath said – the Will and the Word.”
“I don’t know how I can’t do that. ”
“You are who you are. I’ll show you. Look!” Unbidden and so clearly that it was almost as if he were watching it happen, the image of the God Torak writhing in the fire of Aldur’s Orb rose before his eyes. He saw Torak’s face melting and his fingers aflame. Then the face shifted and altered until it was the face of the dark watcher whose mind had been linked with his for as long as he could remember. He felt a terrible force building in him as the image of Chamdar wrapped in seething flame stood before him.
“Nowl ” the voice commanded him. “Do it!”
It required a blow. His rage would be satisfied with nothing less. He leaped at the smirking Grolim so quickly that none of the legionnaires could stop him. He swung his right arm, and at the instant his palm struck Chamdar’s scarred left cheek, he felt all the force that had built in him surge out from the silvery mark on his palm. “Burn!” he commanded, willing it to happen.
Taken off guard, Chamdar jerked back. A momentary anger began to appear on his face, and then his eyes widened with an awful realization. For an instant he stared at Garion in absolute horror, and then his face contorted with agony. “No!” he cried out hoarsely, and then his cheek began to smoke and seethe where the mark on Garion’s hand had touched it. Wisps of smoke drifted from his black robe as if it had suddenly been laid on a red-hot stove. Then he shrieked and clutched at his face. His fingers burst into flame. He shrieked again and fell writhing to the damp earth.
“Stand still!” It was Aunt Pol’s voice this time, sounding sharply inside Garion’s head.
Chamdar’s entire face was engulfed in flames now, and his shrieks echoed in the dim wood. The legionnaires recoiled from the burning man, and Garion suddenly felt sick. He started to turn away.
“Don’t weaken!” Aunt Pol’s voice told him. “Keep your will on him!” Garion stood over the blazing Grolim. The wet leaves on the ground smoked and smoldered where Chamdar thrashed and struggled with the fire that was consuming him. Flames were spurting from his chest, and his shrieks grew weaker. With an enormous effort, he struggled to his feet and held out his flaming hands imploringly to Garion. His face was gone, and greasy black smoke rolled off his body, drifting low to the ground. “Master,” he croaked, “have mercy!”
Garion’s heart wrenched with pity. All the years of that secret closeness between them pulled at him.
“No!” Aunt Pol’s stern voice commanded. “He’ll kill you if you release him!”
“I can’t do it, ” Garion said. “I’m going to stop it. ” As once before, he began to gather his will, feeling it build in him like some vast tide of pity and compassion. He half reached toward Chamdar, focusing his thought on healing.
“Garion!” Aunt Pol’s voice rang. “It was Chamdar who killed your parents!”
The thought forming in his mind froze.
“Chamdar killed Geran and Ildera. He burned them alive just as he’s burning now. Avenge them, Garion! Keep the fire on him!”
All the rage and fury he had carried within him since Wolf had told him of the deaths of his parents flamed in his brain. The fire, which a moment before he had almost extinguished, was suddenly not enough. The hand he had begun to reach out in compassion stiffened. In terrible anger he raised it, palm out. A strange sensation tingled in that palm, and then his own hand burst into flames. There was no pain, not even a feeling of heat, as a bright blue fire burst from the mark on his hand and wreathed up through his fingers. The blue fire became brighter – so bright that he could not even look at it.
Even in the extremity of his mortal agony, Chamdar the Grolim recoiled from that blazing hand. With a hoarse, despairing cry he tried to cover his blackened face, staggered back a few steps, and then, like a burning house, he collapsed in upon himself and sank back to earth.
“It is done!” Aunt Pol’s voice came again. “They are avenged!” And then her voice rang in the vaults of his mind with a soaring exultation. “Belgarion!” she sang. “My Belgarion!”
Ashen-faced Kador, trembling in every limb, backed in horror from the still-burning heap that had been Chamdar the Grolim. “Sorcery!” he gasped.
“Indeed,” Aunt Pol said coolly. “I don’t think you’re ready for this kind of game yet, Kador.”
The frightened legionnaires were also backing away, their eyes bulging at what they had just seen.
“I think the Emperor’s going to take this whole affair rather seriously,” Aunt Pol told them. “When he hears that you were going to kill his daughter, he’ll probably take it personally.”
“It wasn’t us,” one of the soldiers said quickly. “It was Kador. We were just following orders.”
“He might accept that as an excuse,” she said doubtfully. “If it were me, though, I’d take him some kind of gift to prove my loyalty – something appropriate to the circumstances.” She looked significantly at Kador.
Several of the legionnaires took her meaning, drew their swords and moved into position around the Grand Duke.
“What are you doing?” Kador demanded of them.
“I think you’ve lost more than a throne today, Kador,” Aunt Pol said.
“You can’t do this,” Kador told the legionnaires.
One of the soldiers put the point of his sword against the Grand Duke’s throat. “We’re loyal to the Emperor, my Lord,” he said grimly. “We’re placing you under arrest for high treason, and if you give us any trouble, we’ll settle for just delivering your head to Tol Honeth – if you take my meaning.”
One of the legion officers knelt respectfully before Ce’Nedra. “Your Imperial Highness,” he said to her, “how may we serve you?”
The princess, still pale and trembling, drew herself up. “Deliver this traitor to my father,” she said in a ringing voice, “and tell him what happened here. Inform him that you have arrested the Grand Duke Kador at my command.”
“At once, your Highness,” the officer said, springing to his feet. “Chain the prisoner!” he ordered sharply, then turned back to Ce’Nedra. “May we provide you an escort to your destination, your Highness?”
“That won’t be necessary, captain,” she told him. “Just remove this traitor from my sight.”
“As your Highness wishes,” the captain said with a deep bow. He gestured sharply, and the soldiers led Kador away.
Garion was staring at the mark on his palm. There was no sign of the fire that had burned there.
Durnik, released now from the grip of the soldiers, looked at Garion, his eyes wide. “I thought I knew you,” he whispered. “Who are you, Garion, and how did you do this?”
“Dear Durnik,” Aunt Pol said fondly, touching his arm. “Still willing to believe only what you can see. Garion’s the same boy he’s always been.”
“You mean it was you?” Durnik looked at Chamdar’s body and pulled his eyes quickly away.
“Of course,” she said. “You know Garion. He’s the most ordinary boy in the world.”