I
The hunch-backed old man walked soundlessly up the torch lit staircase. He moved his deformed body with a strange sort of grace, barely perceptible to the naked eye. As he reached the end of the stairs he arrived at an open space, the top of the tower, where beams of moonlight streamed through the barren window. He walked in noiselessly.
"How did it go?" a voice off to his left said.
"Not well, Garion," the old man replied, "The king doesn't want to hear us, he only wishes to sit on his throne and play king while the world slowly succumbs to this spreading movement."
The voice walked into the light. He appeared to be a young man of about thirty, with dark brown hair.
"Maybe, I had better have a talk with him. After all, I was very good friends with his ultimate grandfather." Garion said.
"Ultimate? Hardly. Although it was quite a long time ago. I did as we agreed, however, without using sorcery, I don't think we'll be able to convince him. I could barely get an appointment with his majesty, much less a private audiance." The old man sighed. "When, Garion. When did this all go wrong?"
"When Eriond left us, Din, and you know that. Don't keep asking pointless questions."
"Sorry, but sometimes I slip back and long for the old days. With Belgarath. With Pol. With Durnik. With the twins. Before it all changed. Before the brotherhood completely fell apart. Before the world became so unbearably empty." replied Din.
"So do I, but that's no reason to stop trying to bring those days back."
"Well, I suppose tomorrow you should head out and see Helkarth. I'm sure he's absolutely dying to see you."
"Tomorrow." Garion smiled faintly.
The sun rose in the east, as it always has and always will. Garion woke, and consumed the remains of last night's dinner, a cold stew of beef and some vegetables. Garion looked at the deformed old man, lying on the bed, wrapped in a few tattered old blankets. He sighed and then began the transformation. He took the form of a hawk, and flew out the window. Gliding smoothly on an updraft he rose up into the skies. The once-king flew east toward the palace of the high king.
As dusk came he arrived at the sprawling city that could only be called Mal Zeth. The ancient city had been rebuilt many times in the past few millenia. Now it spanned tens of leagues and was an ugly black tangle and had lost much of it's former after being rebuilt. He flew then to the imperial palace where flickering candlelight could be seen in the windows. Garion landed in the palace grounds and resumed his own form. He then walked up to the palace.
"Hey! What are you doing here!" A guard at the door asked.
"I am here to see his imperial majesty, now stand aside." Garion said, with a slight edge in his voice.
"His-His imperial majesty is sleeping. Whoever you are, go away, or we will be forced to 'escort' you out of the grounds." The guard said in a shaky voice.
Losing his temper, Garion said, "Now look, friend, I am going to see him and I don't care if you or he has any problem with that. Now, I will ask you one more time. Stand aside."
Garion stared directly into the guard's eyes. The guard faltered as he reached for his sword. His companions did the same.
Garion looked at the sword and muttered a word under his breath. He felt the surge of his will and the swords crumbled into dust. He then muttered another word and threw them back on the palace lawn. He yanked open the door. He probed the thoughts of the guards and found that the emporer's bed chambers were located on the top floor of the palace. Garion groaned inwardly. He then shielded himself with yet another word and began to walk by the sentries patrolling the palace, unnoticed. As he reached his majesty's bedchamber, he could hear shouts from the guard. Evidently the soldiers on the lawn had told the rest of the palace that a stranger was abroad. Garion yanked open the door, and looked at Halkarth sleeping peacefully in his bed.
Garion whispered, "Wake" under his breath. He once again felt the surging of his will as the sleeping man suddenly woke. Then Garion muttered an imperceptible word under his breath as his will supported him.
"Who are you?" the young man of about twenty asked, frightened, "Guards!! Get in here!"
"They can't hear you. Now why don't you tell me, why you aren't stomping out this obscene movement of arcane teachings?"
"What do you mean they can't hear me? Who the hell are you?" Halkarth continued, ignoring Garion's question.
"My name is Belgarion. You may have heard of me. Now answer the question?" Garion added his bel, to give him some recognition.
"Belgarion? The Belgarion?" Halkarth snorted, "Don't be rediculous. The Rivan king died over 4000 years ago."
"Answer the question."
"What obscene movement? You mean the wizard's guild?"
Garion nodded, his eyes alight with hate.
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's spreading."
"So?"
"They worship demons, your majesty. Sorcery stems from UL. What they're doing comes from the underworld."
"UL? Underworld? What are you talking about? GUARDS GET IN HERE!"
"I told you they can't hear you." Garion moved slightly closer to the emporer, "What I'm talking about your majesty, is the practice of worshipping demons. It's forbidden."
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Put a stop to it. Send in an entire garrison for all I care, just stomp out the practice before it becomes to widespread to do anything about it."
"Why should I? From what I've seen the wizard's guild is trickery and I see no reason to spend money from my treasury to butcher a few civilans."
"It may be trickery now, but before long, you'll have wizards raising demons, and using real spells."
"That's none of my concern."
Garion looked over the young man, trying to reason out what to say to him. He was obviously going to argue his point until the late hours of the night and even if he did make his point, Garion knew that Halkarth wouldn't even dream of consenting to his wishes. Garion finally decided to use fear and just force him, he reasoned that it seemed to be the only way. Getting ready to use a trick his aunt Polgara had taught him, he stepped towards the high king.
"Majesty, if this doesn't stop, this is the scene you'll be seeing until your dying day."
Garion gently probed his majesty's thoughts and came upon his greatest fear. It was of being eaten alive by some unwordly creature, no doubt from one of the anicent Arendish epics he had devoured while he was a boy. The fear was tucked away underneath his consiousness, however it was still there.
Garion looked at the king intently, concentrated and spoke a single word.
"Be."
The king eyes began to widen. After a few seconds he began screaming and clawing at his face, trying to banish whatever was tormenting him.
"This is what you will be seeing until the day you die, unless you, shall we say, accede to my request?" Garion said, as the king was tossing in his bed, screaming all the while.
"Whatever you want! Just make it go away! Please!!" Halkarth screamed.
Garion muttered yet another word and Halkarth ceased scraeming, obviously greatly realeaved that the apparition was gone.
"Now, unless you want to continue seeing that, you'll do this small favor for me."
"But-but how will I-I explain it?" stuttered the high king, shaken from his experience.
"I'm sure you'll find a way." Garion said as he turned to the window. "Good- bye your majesty."
Garion shifted to the shape of a snowy owl and flew off into the night. To say the least, the high king was stunned.
Garion reached the outskirts of the city and went wolf. It wasn't that he didn't like the owl, it was just the fact that, well, he wasn't all that smooth a flyer, and the fact wolves had such stamina that they could run for days. Garion easily assumed the form his ultimate grandfather had favored and loped off into the forest surrounding Mal Zeth.
The hunch-backed old man walked soundlessly up the torch lit staircase. He moved his deformed body with a strange sort of grace, barely perceptible to the naked eye. As he reached the end of the stairs he arrived at an open space, the top of the tower, where beams of moonlight streamed through the barren window. He walked in noiselessly.
"How did it go?" a voice off to his left said.
"Not well, Garion," the old man replied, "The king doesn't want to hear us, he only wishes to sit on his throne and play king while the world slowly succumbs to this spreading movement."
The voice walked into the light. He appeared to be a young man of about thirty, with dark brown hair.
"Maybe, I had better have a talk with him. After all, I was very good friends with his ultimate grandfather." Garion said.
"Ultimate? Hardly. Although it was quite a long time ago. I did as we agreed, however, without using sorcery, I don't think we'll be able to convince him. I could barely get an appointment with his majesty, much less a private audiance." The old man sighed. "When, Garion. When did this all go wrong?"
"When Eriond left us, Din, and you know that. Don't keep asking pointless questions."
"Sorry, but sometimes I slip back and long for the old days. With Belgarath. With Pol. With Durnik. With the twins. Before it all changed. Before the brotherhood completely fell apart. Before the world became so unbearably empty." replied Din.
"So do I, but that's no reason to stop trying to bring those days back."
"Well, I suppose tomorrow you should head out and see Helkarth. I'm sure he's absolutely dying to see you."
"Tomorrow." Garion smiled faintly.
The sun rose in the east, as it always has and always will. Garion woke, and consumed the remains of last night's dinner, a cold stew of beef and some vegetables. Garion looked at the deformed old man, lying on the bed, wrapped in a few tattered old blankets. He sighed and then began the transformation. He took the form of a hawk, and flew out the window. Gliding smoothly on an updraft he rose up into the skies. The once-king flew east toward the palace of the high king.
As dusk came he arrived at the sprawling city that could only be called Mal Zeth. The ancient city had been rebuilt many times in the past few millenia. Now it spanned tens of leagues and was an ugly black tangle and had lost much of it's former after being rebuilt. He flew then to the imperial palace where flickering candlelight could be seen in the windows. Garion landed in the palace grounds and resumed his own form. He then walked up to the palace.
"Hey! What are you doing here!" A guard at the door asked.
"I am here to see his imperial majesty, now stand aside." Garion said, with a slight edge in his voice.
"His-His imperial majesty is sleeping. Whoever you are, go away, or we will be forced to 'escort' you out of the grounds." The guard said in a shaky voice.
Losing his temper, Garion said, "Now look, friend, I am going to see him and I don't care if you or he has any problem with that. Now, I will ask you one more time. Stand aside."
Garion stared directly into the guard's eyes. The guard faltered as he reached for his sword. His companions did the same.
Garion looked at the sword and muttered a word under his breath. He felt the surge of his will and the swords crumbled into dust. He then muttered another word and threw them back on the palace lawn. He yanked open the door. He probed the thoughts of the guards and found that the emporer's bed chambers were located on the top floor of the palace. Garion groaned inwardly. He then shielded himself with yet another word and began to walk by the sentries patrolling the palace, unnoticed. As he reached his majesty's bedchamber, he could hear shouts from the guard. Evidently the soldiers on the lawn had told the rest of the palace that a stranger was abroad. Garion yanked open the door, and looked at Halkarth sleeping peacefully in his bed.
Garion whispered, "Wake" under his breath. He once again felt the surging of his will as the sleeping man suddenly woke. Then Garion muttered an imperceptible word under his breath as his will supported him.
"Who are you?" the young man of about twenty asked, frightened, "Guards!! Get in here!"
"They can't hear you. Now why don't you tell me, why you aren't stomping out this obscene movement of arcane teachings?"
"What do you mean they can't hear me? Who the hell are you?" Halkarth continued, ignoring Garion's question.
"My name is Belgarion. You may have heard of me. Now answer the question?" Garion added his bel, to give him some recognition.
"Belgarion? The Belgarion?" Halkarth snorted, "Don't be rediculous. The Rivan king died over 4000 years ago."
"Answer the question."
"What obscene movement? You mean the wizard's guild?"
Garion nodded, his eyes alight with hate.
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's spreading."
"So?"
"They worship demons, your majesty. Sorcery stems from UL. What they're doing comes from the underworld."
"UL? Underworld? What are you talking about? GUARDS GET IN HERE!"
"I told you they can't hear you." Garion moved slightly closer to the emporer, "What I'm talking about your majesty, is the practice of worshipping demons. It's forbidden."
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Put a stop to it. Send in an entire garrison for all I care, just stomp out the practice before it becomes to widespread to do anything about it."
"Why should I? From what I've seen the wizard's guild is trickery and I see no reason to spend money from my treasury to butcher a few civilans."
"It may be trickery now, but before long, you'll have wizards raising demons, and using real spells."
"That's none of my concern."
Garion looked over the young man, trying to reason out what to say to him. He was obviously going to argue his point until the late hours of the night and even if he did make his point, Garion knew that Halkarth wouldn't even dream of consenting to his wishes. Garion finally decided to use fear and just force him, he reasoned that it seemed to be the only way. Getting ready to use a trick his aunt Polgara had taught him, he stepped towards the high king.
"Majesty, if this doesn't stop, this is the scene you'll be seeing until your dying day."
Garion gently probed his majesty's thoughts and came upon his greatest fear. It was of being eaten alive by some unwordly creature, no doubt from one of the anicent Arendish epics he had devoured while he was a boy. The fear was tucked away underneath his consiousness, however it was still there.
Garion looked at the king intently, concentrated and spoke a single word.
"Be."
The king eyes began to widen. After a few seconds he began screaming and clawing at his face, trying to banish whatever was tormenting him.
"This is what you will be seeing until the day you die, unless you, shall we say, accede to my request?" Garion said, as the king was tossing in his bed, screaming all the while.
"Whatever you want! Just make it go away! Please!!" Halkarth screamed.
Garion muttered yet another word and Halkarth ceased scraeming, obviously greatly realeaved that the apparition was gone.
"Now, unless you want to continue seeing that, you'll do this small favor for me."
"But-but how will I-I explain it?" stuttered the high king, shaken from his experience.
"I'm sure you'll find a way." Garion said as he turned to the window. "Good- bye your majesty."
Garion shifted to the shape of a snowy owl and flew off into the night. To say the least, the high king was stunned.
Garion reached the outskirts of the city and went wolf. It wasn't that he didn't like the owl, it was just the fact that, well, he wasn't all that smooth a flyer, and the fact wolves had such stamina that they could run for days. Garion easily assumed the form his ultimate grandfather had favored and loped off into the forest surrounding Mal Zeth.