Eddings, David - Belgariad 04 - Castle of Wizardry

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The Belgariad: Castle of WizardryTHE BELGARIAD

Part Two

CASTLE OF WIZARDRY

For Bibbidie,

and for Chopper Jack

and for Jimmy and Eddie

- close and special friends who have given support

from the start.

PROLOGUE

Being an account of how Riva Iron grip became Guardian of the Orb of Aldur and

of the evil wrought by Nyissa.

-Based upon The Book of Alorn and later accounts.

NOW A TIME came when Cherek and his three sons went with Belgarath the Sorcerer

into Mallorea. Together they sought to reclaim the Orb of Aldur, which had been

stolen by the maimed God Torak. And when they came to the place in the iron

tower of Torak where the Orb was hidden, only Riva Iron-grip, youngest of the

sons, dared seize the great jewel and bear it forth. For Riva alone was free of

evil intent within his soul.

And when they were come again to the West, Belgarath gave unto Riva and his

descendants eternal guardianship of the Orb, saying: "So long as the Orb rests

with you and your line, so long shall the West be safe."

Then Riva took the Orb and sailed with his people to the Isle of the Winds.

There, upon the one place where ships might land, Riva caused to be built a

Citadel and a walled city around it, which men named Riva. It was a fortress

city, built for war.

Within the Citadel was built a great hall, with a throne carved of black rock

set against the wall. And men called this throne room the Hall of the Rivan

King.

Then a deep sleep fell upon Riva, and Belar, Bear-God of the Alorns, appeared to

him in a dream, saying: "Behold, Guardian of the Orb, I will cause two stars to

fall from the sky. And thou shalt take up the two stars and place them in a fire

and forge them. One shall thou forge into a blade, the other into a hilt, and

together they shall be a sword to guard the Orb of my brother Aldur."

When Riva awoke, he saw two stars fall and he sought and found them in the high

mountains. And he did with them as Belar had instructed. But when it was done,

the blade and hilt could not be joined. Then Riva cried out, "Behold, I have

marred the work, for the sword will not become one."

A fox, which had sat nearby to watch him, said to Riva, "The work is not marred,

Riva. Take the hilt and place the Orb upon it as a pommel stone." And when Riva

did as the fox instructed, the Orb became one with the hilt. But blade and hilt

were still unjoined. Again the fox counseled him. "Take the blade in your left

hand and the hilt in the right and join them."

"They will not join. It is not possible," Riva said.

"Wise are you, indeed," the fox said, "to know what is not possible before you

have made the attempt."

Then Riva was ashamed. He set blade and hilt together, and the blade passed into

the hilt as a stick slides into water. The sword was joined forever.

The fox laughed and said, "Take the sword and smite the rock which stands before

you."

Riva feared for the blade, lest the blow shatter it, but he smote the rock. The

rock broke in two, and water gushed forth in a river and flowed down to the city

below. And far to the east in the darkness of Mallorea, maimed Torak started up

from his bed as a chill coursed through his heart.

Again the fox laughed. Then it ran away, but stopped to look back. Riva saw that

it was a fox no longer, but the great silver wolf form of Belgarath.

Riva had the sword placed upon the face of the black rock wall that stood at the

back of his throne with its blade downward so that the Orb at its pommel stood

at the highest point. And the sword cleaved itself to the rock. None but Riva

could take it down.

As the years passed, men saw that the Orb burned with a cold fire when Riva sat

upon the throne; and when he took down the sword and raised it, it became a

great tongue of blue flame.

In the early spring of the year after the sword was forged, a small boat came

across the dark waters of the Sea of the Winds, moving without oars or sails.

Alone within the boat was the fairest maid in all the world. Her name was

Beldaran, beloved daughter of Belgarath, and she had come to be a wife to Riva.

And Riva's heart melted with love for her, as had been ordained from the

beginning of time.

In the year that followed the wedding of Beldaran to Riva, a son was born to

them upon Erastide. And upon the right hand of this son of Riva was the mark of

the Orb. Straightaway, Riva carried his infant manchild to the Hall of the Rivan

King and placed the tiny hand upon the Orb. The Orb knew the child and glowed

with love for him. Ever afterward, the hand of each descendant of Riva bore the

mark of the Orb that it might know him and not destroy him when he touched it,

for only one of Riva's line could touch the Orb in safety. With each touch of

infant hand upon the Orb the bond between Riva's line and the Orb grew stronger.

And with each joining, the brilliance of the Orb increased.

Thus it was in the city of Riva for a thousand years. Sometimes strangers sailed

into the Sea of Winds, seeking trade, but the ships of Cherek, bound to defend

the Isle of the Winds, fell upon the strangers and destroyed them. But in time,

the Alorn Kings met and determined in council that these strangers were not the

servants of Torak, but bowed instead to the God Nedra. Then they agreed to let

the ships sail the Sea of the Winds unmolested. "For," the Rivan King told his

fellow monarchs, "a time may come when the sons of Nedra will join with us in

our struggle against the Angaraks of Torak One-Eye. Let us not offend Nedra by

sinking the ships of his children." The ruler of Riva spoke wisely, and the

Alorn Kings agreed, knowing that the world was changing.

Then treaties were signed with the sons of Nedra; who took a childish delight in

signing scraps of parchment. But when they sailed into the harbor at Riva, with

their ships bearing full loads of gaudy trinkets upon which they placed high

value, the Rivan King laughed at their folly and closed the gates of the city to

them.

The sons of Nedra importuned their king, whom they called Emperor, to force the

city gates so that they might hawk their wares in the streets, and the Emperor

sent his army to the Isle. Now to permit these strangers from the kingdom they

called Tolnedra passage upon the Sea was one thing, but to let them land an army

at the gates of Riva without challenge was quite another. The Rivan King ordered

that the strand before the city be cleared and the harbor be swept clean of the

ships of Tolnedra. And it was done.

Great was the wrath of the Emperor of Tolnedra. He assembled his armies to cross

the Sea of the Winds and do war. Then the peaceloving Alorns held council to try

reason upon this rash Emperor. And they sent out a message to advise him that,

should he persist, they would rise up and destroy Emperor and kingdom and sweep

the wreckage thereof into the sea. And the Emperor gave heed to this quiet

remonstrance and abandoned his desperate adventure.

As years passed and the Rivan King realized that these merchants from Tolnedra

were harmless, he allowed them to build a village upon the strand before his

city and there to display their useless goods. Their desperation to sell or

trade came to amuse him, and he asked his people to buy some few items from them

- though no purpose could be found for the goods thus purchased.

Then, four thousand and two years from the day when Accursed Torak raised the

stolen Orb and cracked open the world, other strange people came to the village

which the sons of Nedra had built outside the walls of Riva. And it was learned

of these strangers that they were the sons of the God Issa. They called

themselves Ny-Issans, and they claimed that their ruler was a woman, which

seemed unnatural to all who heard. The name of this queen was Salmissra.

They came in dissembling guise, saying that they brought rich gifts from their

queen for the Rivan King and his family. Hearing this, Gorek the Wise, aged king

in the line of Riva, grew curious to know more of these children of Issa and

their queen. With his wife, his two sons and their wives, and all his royal

grandchildren, he went from out the fortress and the city to visit the pavilion

of the Ny-Issans, to greet them courteously, and to receive from them the

valueless gifts sent by the harlot of Sthiss Tor. With smiles of greeting, the

Rivan King and his family were welcomed into the pavilion of the strangers.

Then the foul and accursed sons of Issa struck at all who were the fruit and the

seed of the line of Riva. And venom was anointed upon their weapons, so that the

merest scratch was death.

Mighty even in age, Gorek struggled with the assassins - not to save himself,

for he felt death in his veins from the first blow - but to save at least one of

his grandsons that his line might continue. Alas, all were doomed, save only one

child who fled and cast himself into the sea. When Gorek saw this, he covered

his head with his cloak, groaned, and fell dying beneath the knives of Nyissa.

When word of this reached Brand, Warder of the Citadel, his wrath was dreadful.

The traitorous assassins were overcome, and Brand questioned each in turn in

ways that made brave men tremble. And the truth was wrung from them. Gorek and

his family had been foully murdered at the instructions of Salmissra, Snake

Queen of the Nyissans.

Of the child who had cast himself into the sea there was no trace. One assassin

claimed that he had seen a snowy owl swoop down and bear the child away, but he

was not believed, though even the severest urging would not make him change his

story.

Then all Aloria made dreadful war upon the sons of Issa and tore down their

cities and put all they could find to the sword. And in her final hour,

Salmissra confessed that the evil deed had been done at the urging of Torak

One-Eye and his servant Zedar.

Thus there was no longer a Rivan King and Guardian of the Orb, though Brand and

those of the same name who followed reluctantly took up rule of Riva. Rumor,

ever vagrant, persisted in the years that followed, saying that the seed of Riva

still lay hidden in some remote land. But gray-cloaked Rivans scoured the world

in search of him and never found him.

The sword remained as Riva had placed it, and the Orb was still affixed to its

pommel, though now the jewel was ever dull and seeming without life. And men

began to feel that so long as the Orb was there, the West was safe, even though

there was no Rivan King. Nor did there seem aught of danger that the Orb could

ever be removed, since any man who touched it would be instantly and utterly

consumed, were he not truly of the line of Riva.

But now that his minions had removed the Rivan King and Guardian of the Orb,

Torak One-Eye again dared begin plans for the conquest of the West. And after

many years, he led forth an enormous army of Angaraks to destroy all who opposed

him. His hordes raved through Algaria and down through Arendia, to the city of

Vo Mimbre.

Now Belgarath and his daughter Polgara the Sorceress came to the one who was

Brand and Warder of Riva to advise and counsel with him. With them, Brand led

his army to Vo Mimbre. And in the bloody battle before that city, Brand drew

upon the power of the Orb to overcome Torak. Zedar spirited the body of his

master away and hid it, but not all the disciple's skill could again awaken his

God. And again men of the West felt safe, protected by the Orb and Aldur.

Now there came rumors of a prophecy that a Rivan King, true seed of the line of

Riva, should again appear and sit upon the throne in the Hall of the Rivan King.

And in later years, some claimed that each daughter of an Emperor of Tolnedra

appeared on her sixteenth birthday to be the bride of the new king, should he

appear. But few regarded such tales. Time passed into centuries, and still the

West was safe. The Orb remained, quiet and dark upon the pommel of the sword.

And somewhere fearful Torak was said to sleep until the return of the Rivan King

- which came to mean never.

And thus the account should be ended. But no true account can ever end. And

nothing can ever be safe or sure so long as cunning men plot to steal or

destroy.

Again, long centuries passed. And then new rumors came, this time to disturb

those in the highest places of power. And it was whispered that somehow the Orb

had been stolen. Then Belgarath and Polgara were seen to be moving through the

lands of the West again. This time they took with them a young man named Garion

who named Belgarath his grandfather and called Polgara his aunt. And as they

moved through the kingdoms, they gathered upon them a strange company.

To the Alorn Kings who gathered in council, Belgarath revealed that it was the

Apostate Zedar who had somehow contrived to steal the Orb from the sword and who

was even then fleeing with it to the East, presumably to use it to awaken

sleeping Torak. And it was there Belgarath must go with his company to rescue

it.

Then Belgarath discovered that Zedar had found a boy of total innocence who

could safely touch the Orb. But now the way led to the grim and dangerous

headquarters of the Grolim priests of Torak, where the magician Ctuchik had

seined the Orb and the boy from Zedar.

In time this quest of Belgarath and his company to regain the Orb would come to

be known as the Belgariad. But the end thereof lay entangled within the

Prophecy. And even to the Prophecy was the ultimate conclusion unknown.

Part One

ALGARIA

Chapter One

CTUCHIK WAS DEAD - arid more than dead - and the earth itself heaved and groaned

in the aftershock of his destruction. Garion and the others fled down through

the dim galleries that honeycombed the swaying basalt pinnacle, with the rocks

grinding and cracking about them and fragments shattering away from the ceilings

and raining down on them in the darkness. Even as he ran, Garion's mind jerked

and veered, his thoughts tumbling over each other chaotically, stunned out of

all coherence by the enormity of what had just happened. Flight was a desperate

need, and he fled without thought or even awareness, his running steps as

mechanical as his heartbeat.

His ears seemed full of a swelling, exultant song that rang and soaxed in the

vaults of his mind, erasing thought and filling him with stupefied wonder.

Through all his confusion, however, he was sharply conscious of the trusting

touch of the small hand he held in his. The little boy they had found in

Ctuchik's grim turret ran beside him with the Orb of Aldur clasped tightly to

his little chest. Garion knew that it was the Orb that filled his mind with

song. It had whispered to him as they had mounted the steps of the turret, and

its song had soared as he had entered the room where it had lain. It was the

song of the Orb that obliterated all thought - more than shock or the thunderous

detonation that had destroyed Ctuchik and tumbled Belgarath across the floor

like a rag doll or the deep sullen boom of the earthquake that had followed.

Garion struggled with it as he ran, trying desperately to pull his wits into

some kind of order, but the song intruded on his every effort, scattering his

mind so that chance impression and random memory fluttered and scurried this way

and that and left him to flee without design or direction.

The dank reek of the slave pens lying just beneath the disintegrating city of

Rak Cthol came sharply through the shadowy galleries. As if suddenly awakened by

that single stimulus, a flood of memories of other smells crashed in on Garion's

consciousness - the warm smell of freshbaked bread in Aunt Pol's kitchen back at

Faldor's farm, the salt smell of the sea when they had reached Darine on the

north coast of Sendaria on the first leg of their quest for the Orb, the stink

of the swamps and jungles of Nyissa, the stomach-turning smell of the burning

bodies of the sacrificed slaves in the Temple of Torak which even now shattered

and fell in upon itself among the collapsing walls of Rak Cthol. But, oddly, the

smell that came sharpest to his confused memory was the sun-warmed scent of

Princess Ce'Nedra's hair.

"Garion!" Aunt Pol's voice came sharply to him in the near dark through which

they ran. "Watch where you're going!" And he struggled to pull his mind back

from its wandering even as he stumbled over a pile of broken rock where a large

stretch of ceiling had fallen to the floor.

The terrified wails of the imprisoned slaves locked in clammy cells rose all

around them now, joining in a weird counterharmony with the rumble and boom of

earthquake. Other sounds came from the darkness as well-confused shouts in

harshly accented Murgo voices, the lurching stagger of running feet, the

clanging of an unlatched iron cell door swinging wildly as the huge rock

pinnacle swayed and shuddered and heaved in the surging roll. Dust billowed

through the dark caves, a thick, choking rock dust that stung their eyes and

made them all cough almost continually as they clambered over the broken rubble.

Garion carefully lifted the trusting little boy over the pile of shattered rock,

and the child looked into his face, calm and smiling despite the chaos of noise

and stink all around them in the oppressive dimness. He started to set the child

down again, but changed his mind. It would be easier and safer to carry the boy.

He turned to go on along the passageway, but he recoiled sharply as his foot

came down on something soft. He peered at the floor, then felt his stomach

suddenly heave with revulsion as he saw that he had stepped on a lifeless human

hand protruding from the rockfall.

They ran on through the heaving darkness with the black Murgo robes which had

disguised them flapping around their legs and the dust still thick in the air

about them.

"Stop!" Relg, the Ulgo zealot, raised his hand and stood with his head cocked to

one side, listening intently.

"Not here!" Barak told him, still lumbering forward with the dazed Belgarath in

his arms. "Move, Relg!"

"Be still!" Relg ordered. "I'm trying to listen." Then he shook his head. "Go

back!" he barked, turning quickly and pushing at them. "Run!"

"There are Murgos back there!" Barak objected.

"Run!" Relg repeated. "The side of the mountain's breaking away!" Even as they

turned, a new and dreadful creaking roar surrounded them. Screeching in protest,

the rock ripped apart with a long, hideous tearing. A sudden flood of light

filled the gallery along which they fled as a great crack opened in the side of

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TheBelgariad:CastleofWizardryTHEBELGARIADPartTwoCASTLEOFWIZARDRYForBibbidie,andforChopperJackandforJimmyandEddie-closeandspecialfriendswhohavegivensupportfromthestart.PROLOGUEBeinganaccountofhowRivaIrongripbecameGuardianoftheOrbofAldurandoftheevilwroughtbyNyissa.-BaseduponTheBookofAlornandlateraccou...

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Eddings, David - Belgariad 04 - Castle of Wizardry

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