Chapter 8
The small village of Tergok, in the foothills of the Eastern Escarpment, had only one claim to fame: they were almost squarely in the path of the North Caravan Route. The biggest part of the village(which some of the more pompous residents insisted on calling a town), was the marketplace, strategically set so that any merchants, craftsman, or travelers passing through could stop and buy or sell. Tergok was a modest village, with little cottages of wood and thatched roofs, and occasional buildings of stone for some of the officials of the town.
There was a large tavern on one side of town, the Drinking Bull. No one knew where it had got its name, but the Drinking Bull it was, and the inhabitants of the town and most of the travelers passing through, frequented it nightly. It was a small, cozy establishment--some of the women and more proper people in the town would call it crammed, dirty, and stifling--and the beer was pleasantly cheap, though very home-brewed and only slightly watered.
One of the inhabitants of the Drinking Bull was a one-legged man named Carteg, a cross old fellow who was scarred all over from battles of bygone days--some said he had been in the Battle of Vo Mimbre, more realistic folk said he had fought at Thull Mardu--and spoke seldom, except to utter his need in a gruff voice to the serving wench.
That night, Carteg hunched in his corner, cradling his tankard and thinking of the old days. The beer had been so much more rich then, the meat more juicy, the game more easy to find. People these days didn't even remember the old times. He thought about Belgarath the Sorcerer. People said he was eight, nine thousand years old. Carteg supposed that was because he was a skilled physician or something. There was nothing unusual about long life, if you ate healthily and did all this weird stuff the physicians did. Carteg took a sip from the tankard, and swallowed the diluted, watery stuff. Disgusted, he knocked the tankard off the table with a heavy hand.
The serving wench cast him a angry glance, but his scowl made her back up. Rising, he leaned heavily on his peg-leg as he stumped toward the door, feeling people's eyes boring into his back. No respect, nowadays. He knocked the door open and limped out into the dark street, his peg-leg tapping on the cobblestones. Maybe he should take a walk out into the country, and feel the fresh air. He hadn't done that in a while. Tapping down the cobblestones, he made his way out of the village, finding a quiet place on a hillside to sit and watch the stars.
Funny things, stars. They were always there, glimmering slightly. Carteg stared off into the darkness.
He looked at it for several minutes without realizing what he was seeing. Then his eyes focused and he peered at the dark, twisting shapes. There seemed to be masses and masses of them, all swaying and darting in a strange, eerie dance. He looked around. They were spread out for miles. Suddenly there was a spark of light, and torches flared up, revealing that whoever it was had surrounded the village of Tergok. Carteg sprang up, bewildered. A glittering object flew through the air, and Carteg gaped at the knife protruding from his leg. Invaders! That was what they were! He looked around and saw they were silently closing in on the quiet village of Tergok. But they hadn't counted on him! They thought he was dead! He took a step forward, and his foot felt strangely heavy. He would shout a warning. He would... The world darkened before his eyes as the poison took over his body.
The figure watched the smoke spiral up from the village of Tergok, an almost hungry gleam in his icy blue eyes as the flames licked up from the thatched houses. He felt a presence at his back, and turned to face the demon leader.
"They are all dead, my lord."
The figure nodded, turning back to watch the destruction of Tergok again. "Did any of them have any information?"
The shoulders beneath the cloak rose in a shrug. "This is Drasnia, not Sendaria, my lord. They have not seen him. They have never even heard of him."
"You described him to them exactly?"
"He is the opposite of you, my lord. Big, muscled body, blond hair, black eyes, blunt features. None of them had seen anyone special. The Alorns look generally like that, except they are bearded."
The figure sighed, letting out his breath in a hiss. "It is not long, my servant. We must only march down the Great North Road, and reach Muros through the edges of Algaria and Ulgoland."
"Yes, my lord. You do not expect the Alorns will attempt to stop us?"
The figure waved a hand. "Your demons insure that they will not. These westerners do not believe in demons, do not have the healthy respect for them that my Morindim do. They shall be terrified."
"And what of... Aldur's servants?"
"How many is there now?"
"There is the one called Belgarath, the woman Polgara, the twins Beltira and Belkira, the smith Durnik, the king Belgarion, the wolf Poledra. Beldin the hunchback has gone. There is no mention of where, but he is gone. "
"And the servants of Eriond?"
"Senji and Pelath."
"Nine, then." The figure waved it away. "You know they cannot touch me."
"And if they destroy your army?"
"I can protect my army from nine."
"What if they find another?"
"There is no other, so we do not need to think about it."
"It is as you say, my lord."
"Any word from Mal Zeth?"
"The emperor has been besieged, but the seer and her unborn child escaped."
"Where to?"
"The Alorn kingdoms. We do not know what she does there."
"It could be a social visit," mused the figure.
"Yes, my lord."
"Or it could be a council of war. Do you think the Alorns would take this invasion seriously enough to send out their armies?"
"They might, my lord, if it appeared we were marching on their capitals."
"Those fools." The figure laughed, low in his throat. "We want Sendaria. We do not care about Tolnedra and Nyissa, Algaria and Drasnia, Cherek and Riva. But no matter. If they stand in our way, we shall eliminate them. Like that village." The figure was silent for a moment. "And of the ships to Rak Cthan and Rak Urga?"
"We have not heard. Rak Cthan has been conquered, it is certain. But whether or not the barricade of Rak Urga is successful is not known." "I see. Do you think we should prepare for battle?"
"With the Alorns, Tolnedrans?"
"With anyone or anything."
"Of course, my lord. We should always be prepared."
"Wise words, my faithful servant. Wise words."
Silk and Urgit, closely guarded by Karands, were now in a prison tent in the encampment of their captors. Their hands and feet were free, but the guards inside the tents eyed them watchfully, poisoned daggers at the ready. Through the tent flap they could see Kradak walking back and forth, calling out orders.
-What is he doing here?- Silk's fingers asked Urgit. -Wasn't he one of your generals?-
-He used to be.- Urgit's fingers were still a bit awkward, since he had just learned the secret Drasnian language only recently. -Remember that time when I found out I was your brother, and who Belgarath was, and you had to take me with you? I left those warrants with Oskatat for beheading any recalcitrant generals. Kradak apparently didn't take my stepfather seriously, and threw his weight around like he was the only one left in Rak Urga with authority. Oskatat promptly ordered his beheading.-
-Then why isn't he dead?-
-He found out about it and ran. I haven't seen him since then. He seems to be holding grudges.-
-I wonder why?- Silk's fingers asked sarcastically.
-What are we going to do?-
-We're going to get out of here, of course. They didn't kill you right away, so obviously they were on the lookout for you. Possibly the sacking of Rak Cthan was engineered specifically for this purpose. You're valuable, my brother.-
-But who would plan this kind of thing?-
Silk's fingers shrugged. -That's what we're going to find out. Kradak won't be able to resist gloating. He'll probably come in here to tell us that- -
The tent flap was flung open and Kradak swaggered in, a smirk on his brutish face. "Not so high and mighty now, are you, King Urgit? You were always sitting on your throne, self-righteous, thinking you were a king!" He gave a harsh laugh. "Until Prince Kheldar and Belgarion came along, you always did whatever we told you to do, as you should have. But then you started thinking like a king. You shouldn't even have tried it. Some people are meant to have power. I, for instance. Others are meant to follow leaders. Like you."
"Really, old chap?" Urgit cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't seem to be doing a very good job of it. You were the one that almost stopped me from sailing troops to Rak Goska and saving the city, remember?"
"Quiet!" snapped Kradak. "You are my prisoner, King Urgit, and you will do what I say!"
"Touchy fellow, isn't he?" remarked Silk to Urgit.
"Oh, yes," Urgit agreed. "Comes of hanging around smelly Karands who wear the same clothes the year round, I expect."
"Oh, I think they take baths once in a while… usually when it rains."
"No soap, though."
"That is a problem. Say, old fellow," Silk turned to one of the guards, "You don't have soap, do you? What do you use? Animal grease?"
The guard looked bewildered.
"SHUT UP!" roared Kradak. "Your clever mouth will not rescue you now!"
"Clever mouths, actually," Urgit added, almost as an afterthought. "By the way, old chap, who's this great and mighty guy who gives you this power?"
Kradak swelled. "HE is the most powerful man in all the land, more powerful than Belgarath the Sorcerer himself."
"I doubt it," muttered Urgit.
"HE commands us, and we respond to his brilliant plans," Kradak continued, obviously not having heard him. "Demons respond to his call, and he marches across the land to reclaim the country and throw out the foul western kings. When the country is rid of them, we, his loyal generals, shall ascend the thrones of Mallorea and Cthol Murgos, and cover the land until it seethes with Angaraks, Karands, and Morindim! All who join with us shall triumph, and all that resist shall die! We shall purge the earth!" Kradak's eyes were glazed in ecstasy of his vision.
Silk was frowning. "It reminds me of that bear cultist we met when Garion's son was kidnapped," he told his brother, not bothering to lower his voice. Kradak was oblivious to them. "It sounds false, somehow. The bear cultist was told that story to throw us off the track. I know we don't have any of those repetitions any more, but that doesn't prevent something happening again. I can't put my finger on it, but I think this 'HE' he keeps on talking about is up to something serious."
"More serious than conquering the world?"
"As strange as it sounds, yes."
Sorry, Behold the Void, but I can't bring Beldin back. That would spoil the dramatic emphasis on that one scene where they change into hawks, and fly off, "never to return". (I did read Angelic Maiden and Limitless Destiny, though.) Thank you, Belgarion, for speculating, because I really felt like someone was interested in my plot and I was really encouraged. Thanks for the suggestions, Malefika, I'll try to work on the longer chapters. I never liked really long chapters, though. Also, Aquitaine and Malefika, thank you for helping me realize what was happening with the stories. Usually, I leave two lines between the places where I jump characters, so I thought it would be clear. But then I went back and looked at my story and saw that there was only one line spacing between them, and it was really confusing, especially Chapter 7. I will now attempt to go back and put *'s between character jumps, though it will take a while. This story will have a sequel, as I do not want to cram everything into one, and I may merge a few chapters and make them longer as soon as I finish, so go back and read them over when this story is done(though that will not be for a while). I'm enjoying the intelligent reviews.One last thing: Hsi Chan and Malefika, I HAVE addressed the demon lord thing, even though it may not seem like it.