Keep in mind though: I might not be able to crank out two chapters a night indefinitely!
Current Music: QNTAL – QNTAL II (Electrofolk – very cool!)
Disclaimer: You guessed it, none of it is mine, except characters invented by me (see list in last chapter)...
CHAPTER 6
Belgarath and Polgara had spent the night in the hut of Lugath and Nemea, and in the following morning, they stepped out of the lopsided house refreshed and alert. As promised, Galtan strode over to them when he saw them emerge, leading two roan horses by their reins.
"I bid you a good morning, friends," he greeted them, and both returned the greeting in a friendly manner.
Then Galtan led the horses forward. "These are Feliad and Dorim. May they serve you well. Please treat them with care, for they are very gentle mares – but if you need to, you will be able to gallop faster on them than on most other horses."
He handed a pair of reins to Belgarath, gave Polgara the other, and added: "I have thought about the matter of giving you directions and decided that it will be best to send a guide with you. Dorgatan will lead you – another boy can guard the sheep, and he knows the way. Aside from that, he is the best rider that we have."
Unnoticed, the boy had come out of the house after the two sorcerers had left. He grinned at them and promised with a strangely lilting accent: "We'll get there before sundown, I promise!"
Belgarath was about to protest the boy's escort, but then he kept his mouth shut. He didn't know these people, and Galtan seemed to have common sense – he would know what he was doing.
They waited patiently for Dorgatan to get his horse, and when he returned with it, a coal-black giant of a stallion, they mounted their mares and departed, waving their generous hosts good-bye as they cantered out of the Styric village.
They rode for the better part of the day without a break, young Dorgatan always up front. Galtan had been right: The boy rode as well as an Algar. He knew exactly when to give his stallion Zandail free reign and when to reign him in. The two roan mares always managed to match his speed, and their canter was so regular that the regular pains of riding were reduced to a minimum.
Two hours after midday, they decided to give their horses a few moments of rest. Dorgatan swung himself out of the saddle in one fluid move, rummaged through the saddlebags that hung on Zandail's back, and dug out a raw piece of mutton, wrapped in clean giant tree leafs, three bowls and enough wood to build a small fire. He placed the dry twigs and branches in front of Belgarath and Polgara, built a fixture to hold a spit over them, and grinned at his two charges. Then he held out his hand, murmured a few words in the incomprehensible, yet musical language of the Styrics, and drew some intricate little figures in the air with outstretched fingers. Finally, he pointed at the small stack of wood – and it burst into flame.
Polgara took the meat from Dorgatan when he asked her to prepare it, so he could run and fetch some water to drink from a nearby creek, found herself a young, green and straight branch for a spit, put the mutton on it and then began roasting it. While she turned the meat slowly to make sure that all sides roasted evenly, she looked at her father. "I think we have just witnessed one of the Styric secrets," she said to him. "I could feel it when he released the force behind it – it is very different from the Will. It felt as if he wasn't the only source of the power, but it didn't come from his surroundings..."
Belgarath nodded. "I felt the same thing. Furthermore, the correct spell in connection with the finger patterns seems to be of vital importance, whereas the Will only needs a picture in our heads and a command to release the force."
He grinned as a thought came to him. "You know, Polgara, you should learn those 'secrets' – after all, you never managed to stop wiggling your fingers while releasing your Will..."
All he got for an answer was an arched eyebrow and the words "I don't suppose I heard you correctly – you want to fast for today, father?" That settled the topic fairly quickly.
A few minutes later, the mutton was almost done, Dorgatan returned with the bowls brimming with clear, ice-cold water. He walked slowly so he wouldn't spill everything, and handed Belgarath and Polgara their bowls. Then he sat down in the grass next to the fire and flashed his customary grin. "How'd you like my little show from before?"
Belgarath smiled back at the boy; the young Styric was a lot like Garion and his ancestors, differing only in the fact that he seemed to enjoy his life enormously and liked to show it.
"Very impressive, Dorgatan. Do you know any other secrets?"
The boy's grin broadened even more, revealing a gap in his upper jaw where he had recently lost a tooth.
"Bunches!", he answered. "Wish I could show them all to you – but the Gods would get angry with me if I use the secrets too much just to impress people, and besides: We wanna reach the magician's house today, right?"
The old sorcerer laughed. "You're right, my boy. Let us eat and drink, and then ride on. Maybe you can show me some more secrets later."
Dorgatan nodded enthusiastically when Polgara cut the mutton into pieces and gave an equal slab of meat to all of them.
The sun was about to settle down for the night in the west, when the three riders reached the village in which the former sorcerer was supposed to live. They got off their horses and led them through the lines of houses (which indeed looked a lot better than the mud huts of Galtan's village) to the other end of the small community. There, Dorgatan turned to the right and marched on, toward a house which stood a little ways back from the main road. He fastened Zandail's reins to a beam in front of the homely-looking little half-timbered building, waited for Belgarath and Polgara to do the same, and then knocked on the door three times.
They could hear the shuffle of feet inside the hut, then the door was opened. Belgarath stared at the man who stood in the doorframe, who started talking to Dorgatan in Styric, but suddenly stopped when he caught sight of Aldur's first Disciple.
Belgarath was the first to break the silence; in a half-gasp, he uttered the man's name. "Belmakor!"
Yeah, I guess you were all guessing it... however, I liked the idea of having Belmakor in my story, so there ;-)
As usual: Comments appreciated!