Chapter 14
Nine hawks flew in formation in the sky above the Morindim's marching army.
On the ground, the leader of the Morindim's eyes bored up into the flying birds of prey. He could feel the presence of the demon-caster near.
"My lord, hawks do not fly in formation like that."
"Obviously." A thin smile curled the leader's lips. "They think to stop us." He bent his head, dark lank hair falling like about his face. "Let me concentrate."
"Yes, my lord." The servant's eyes were on the hawks circling above, watching their every move. They were almost specks in the sky, but specks that somehow conveyed threat simply by their presence. The servant shuddered. Aldur's servants were strong, very strong. He had encountered them only once before, in the Battle of Vo Mimbre, and as he was only a Grolim at that time, his skills had been crushed by their power. Could HE really defeat them? His eyes went to the figure, drawn into himself. Then a confident expression filled his eyes. HE was HIMSELF, after all. No man alive could stand against him.
In the sky above, the nine sorcerers circled, their sharp golden eyes scanning the army.
"How are we going to do this?" Senji asked.
"We have to stop them, right?" asked Garion. "Not just kill them, decimate them, etc. We need to stop them."
"Which could perhaps be the hardest thing of all," Pelath murmured.
"Why is that?" Senji asked his brother, curiously.
Pelath's voice held a shrug. "I do not know. I say what comes to me."
Belgarath sighed. "Mystics. Well, it's obvious we need to construct a barrier of pure will, to bring them to a halt." A image of a shimmering barrier came into their minds, and they bent to work. Garion drew in his will and formed a long wall, solid as rock, with pure power, and he felt the other sorcerer's layers back it up. Then their eyes focused on the real world, and they watched as the Morindim slowly advanced on their barrier.
Garion wondered if they would feel it, and started to brace himself, just in time. He felt a horrible shock knock his hawk's body fully a meter backwards, and the barrier of will his mind was focused on buckled. He strained against the terrible force battering at it as he tumbled through the air, desperately trying to keep the wall together. He could feel the other parts of the wall buckling as well, and saw in a flash a glittering arrow-shaped shield covering the Morindim, pushing at the wall with appalling strength. He let out a screech of agony, and felt the barrier tear apart.
A shrieking, tearing noise ripped through his mind, and he fought the urge to clap nonexistent hands over his ears. The barrier was falling, fading. And he was falling, too, he realized, finally righting the hawk's body and swooping up an updraft. About him he saw his fellow sorcerers. Belgarath, Polgara, and Poledra had recovered, and were diving in a triangle formation after the plummeting Durnik. Beltira and Belkira, tangled together, were fighting to gain control again, and Senji and Pelath were still falling. As Garion watched, a feeling of nausea coming to his stomach and dizziness to his head, they swooped up and around again, climbing slowly. Soon the nine hawks had joined together again, their golden eyes glittering with fury, feathered chests heaving with strain.
"We've got to try again," were Belgarath's only words, his voice cold with icy fury.
Garion groaned in exhaustion and pain. "Grandfather, remember the shield from the hailstones, and the shield around the leader? We're not going to be able to do it."
"We are going to be able to do it. There are nine of us, over double the amount we had before. We're going to erect another wall."
They went through the same process, their minds quailing at the thought of the dreadful force breaking through again. And the Morindim advanced on the new barrier.
On the ground below, the leader watched carefully through narrowed eyes at the hawks above, gauging the time when they would regroup to construct another obstacle. When they rejoined formation, his arrowhead narrowed out into a long lance, invisible to his Morindim, but clear to the ice-blue eyes of HIM.
The demon-caster rode behind, watching the tiny specks be torn apart, then join together in formation. From beneath his hood, he cast worried looks at his leader, afraid the strain would be too much. There was nine of them, after all. Could his power over-ride that of nine others? He himself could not help his leader. This kind of sorcery was not his. And was not that of the nine sorcerers, either. That was perhaps why they did not realize they would not be able to destroy HIM.
The demon-caster arranged the folds of his black robe, wondering again what would happen to the Morindim and himself when the leader finally found his enemy. They would be forgotten, most probably, as the two eternal enemies battled it out. Maybe one of them would die. Maybe both of them would die. Both were very possible. And if HE won, would he be rewarded? The demon-caster shook the thought away. He had not joined with HIM for that purpose. He had joined with HIM to use his talent, to be at the side of the most powerful being, aside from the gods, in the universe, not to get a reward. Still, it would be nice...
The demon-caster's thoughts veered back to the circling hawks. He closed his eyes and reached out, feeling their barrier, and the closeness of the lance-head to it. He felt it shudder as the lance-head struck it, a shaking shudder that ran through the barrier. He felt it buckle and break yet again, and turned his eyes up to see the hawks reeling apart again.
In the sky, Garion fought to get his breath, pushing down the horrible nauseating feeling that made him feel like was going to lose his meal. But did hawks ever vomit? He didn't know, of course, but that was not the task at hand. Disoriented, they joined again, remarshalling their forces.
"It's not going to work, Belgarath," Senji said. "He's too strong."
"How is it possible for him to be too strong?" burst out Belgarath. "He's only one man! How can he oppose all nine of us?"
"We're on the defensive?" asked Garion. "Maybe if we attack him, we'll get an advantage."
"Let's pound on the barrier," Durnik said, ever practical. "Like a hammer."
"Why is it always hammers?" asked Senji.
"Would you rather it be fishing poles?" Garion asked.
Aunt Pol sighed.
"Hammers," Belgarath said. "Right, everyone now."
They threw their wills at the lance-like barrier, slammed into its slick glassy surface. Garion backed up and battered it again with his mind, imagining a hammer pounding on a sheet of metal. He felt the barrier give slightly.
"Everyone at once!" Belgarath yelled.
Garion felt exultation as he hurled himself at the barrier again. They were going to do it! They were going to--
They crashed into the barrier, and felt it bend, but it did not give.
"Almost!" Belgarath was fairly whirling in the air with rage. "So close!"
"Belgarath," Pelath's voice said quietly, "If we can't stop him, the forces in the mountains of Sendaria won't either."
They all fell silent.
"We've got to break through the barrier!" Garion cried out. "If we don't, there's nothing that can stop them! Nothing!"
"Garion, calm down!" Aunt Pol's voice was commanding.
"No! Why should I calm down? Nine powerful sorcerers can't stop an army of Morindim, the biggest threat Sendaria has ever known! This isn't Vo Mimbre! Drasnia was something that was a tragedy, but we still had a chance! We still had that third day! Now, we have nothing! We have no even odds! We're helpless! Helpless!" He threw his mind at the barrier again, again and again, not hearing Aunt Pol's voice telling him to stop, not hearing Beltira and Belkira trying to soothe him, not hearing Senji and Pelath clinging to Belgarath, trying to find someway of insuring that what he'd said wasn't true, that there was something they could still do, somehow they could stop the army.
But there was nothing. Garion knew his words were true, with a terrible knell that could make a man die of despair.
They had survived Torak. They had survived the War of the Gods, the Battle of Vo Mimbre, the Battle of Thull Mardu. They had survived Zandramas. All to have all be lost to an army of Morindim, who they had never considered a threat, never considered anything more than madmen afraid of the things they worshiped. An army of Morindim and their leader.
Sendaria was doomed, and the rest of the West with it.