This story is a xover of David Eddings works of Belgariad/Mallorean and Elenium/Tamuli series. I love those books. I've read the 5 from Belgariad more then 30x each, and the Mallorean at least dozen times. And the Elenium/Tamuli books I've likely read nearly a dozen times each.

Just a recap: Pandions ask for Aphrael, Genidians ask for Hanka, Cyrinnics ask Romalic, and here, Alciones ask for Naslin. When I say ask, I mean pray/cast spells. Since in the E/T world, magic is done by the caster saying a prayer spell to ask the gods to do something for his use. Which words they use and which gestures are important, as they have to be framed in a certain manner for the Gods to consider doing what is asked of them. Unlike in B/M where the power is inside the person and they just need to have the belief that what they want to happen will happen. Then they pull in their Will (power) and so the Word (anything, no special words, just an aural cue to release the gathered Will) Gestures not needed, but done for extra effect on witnesses.

To answer a few reviews:

First Thank YOU ALL FOR REVIEWING AND READING. I can not express my thanks enough to any one who has read or reviewed my works, especially this one.

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Garion was pleased with the journey so far. They were making good time, considering they'd decided to bring some of the dead along and had had to gather their horses and gear. They'd dropped the extra horses, bodies, and gear with the local constabulary and made a stop by the Pandion chapter house, where they'd learned that Sparhawk had already sent out letters for them. Ulath and Tynian had just shrugged and muttered something about suspicious coincidences and interfering gods, but Garion hadn't understood their meaning.

He knew he could have gotten to Cimmura himself much faster in wolf or hawk form, but stayed human, wanting to get used to being in his true body before he had to test himself in battle. He was a few millennia out of practice, even if he had had centuries of experience, he needed to get back into the proper form and regain the battle instincts he'd worked so long to learn. Spending most of the last 50000 as one animal or another had dulled his instincts. He'd had to actually think during the little skirmish against the brigands instead of reacting the way he'd been taught. His first reaction had been to bite and claw the men instead of using the sword.

He glanced up at the sun, judging the time and noting it was well past mid day. They had not stopped for a mid day meal, but had instead eaten on the hoof, snacking on hard travel bread, jerky, and cheese supplied by the Pandion chapterhouse at the border. They had also gotten a horse for Garion to ride, though at first he had resisted. He hadn't ridden a horse since the death of Chretienne. And that was more years ago then he cared to remember at this time. Tynian and Ulath had also traded the gear and horses they'd captured in for some spare mounts as they didn't want to ride their horses to death.

"So tell me more about your friends. I would like to know a bit about the people I'm going to meet." Garion stated as the three rode abreast of each other on the wide trail.

So Tynian went on to explain about their friends. He told Garion the story behind the first journey searching for the Bhelliom in order to cure Ehlana of the poison given to her by the corrupt Annias and her cousin Lycheas. He then gave a bit of history on the relation between the two and some of the more recent events to affect the world before going on to explain about Klael and Bhelliom. It struck Garion how familiar these quests sounded compared to his own life, at least his time from scullion boy to Overlord of the West.

He could see some parallels between his life and Sparhawk's. Both had fought gods, and beings more powerful gods. They'd done so to save not only the world they knew, but more importantly for the safety of the women they loved. Both had powerful lineage's that had been at least partially hidden from them for most their lives. And both had been the sole people to be able to handle and control the forces of existence contained within the form of the supernaturally intelligent stones known as the Orb of Aldur and the Blue-Rose.

He'd even seen some ties between people he had known and those Tynian described. Ulath bore a striking resemblance in both appearance and personality to Barak, Ehlana sounded like she was a lot like Ce'Nedra in personality if not appearance. This Sephrenia they spoke off sounded similar to both Aunt Pol and Grandmother. The one he called Talen reminded him of what a young Silk must have been like. Bevier reminded him somewhat of Manderallen. And so many more besides. Even such connections as Wargun reminding him of Anheg.

In turn he explained about his friends and family, and pointed out several of the similarities in the two sets of people. In the back of his mind, he wondered about the possibility of this new group being descended from his long dead friends and associates, but shrugged. After 50000 years, it no longer mattered if they were related to his friends. He could not fall into the trap of assuming that just because of a few similarities, that the people he would encounter would be in any way like those he had known. He felt no pain at the thought of all those he had lost and even the pain at loosing his beloved Dryad queen no longer hurt as much. It was time to let go the past and look to the future. A danger was rising in the world, and he might soon be reunited with an old and dear friend. And there was even a chance that the person he considered his younger brother might still be alive and taking part in the world, though in a more advanced and limited capacity.

He was once more being drawn against his will to face threats of dire proportions. He would do his best to protect those in need of his strength, and then maybe, he would find a way to rest. Unless he was able to find some purpose in life, he would find a way to end it. He had lived long enough. There was nothing for him in the world anymore. He might no longer hurt as much, but he still longed to join his family in oblivion.

"So then, there was a kind of bidding war for Talen. Everyone wanted to get a piece of him. Dolmant wanted him for the church, Stragen and Platime tried grooming to lead a Thieves Council, each of the orders wanted him for their own, and several different rulers wanted him to lead their councils. But Sparhawk outbid them all really. No one really wanted to go against the will of someone who had killed one god in battle and destroyed another by overpowering his will."

Garion filed away yet another similarity in the world he knew and the world he was entering. These people also knew of the difference between killing someone and destroying them.

"There's another thing this Sparhawk and I have in common." Garion noted idly, his eyes darted to the woods where he could hear some faint rustlings of animals tracking them. "I also killed a God in a sword fight. I've never destroyed anyone, but someone I know did destroy himself to keep me from doing something that terrified him."

"What was that?" Ulath asked, though it took Garion a moment to realize that the giant Genidian was referring to the movements in the bushes along the trail and not to the statement he'd just made.

Garion took a moment to glance again into the bushes and saw the slinking movement of a form he knew very well. "It's just some wolves trailing us, or rather me, through their territory."

"How do know that?" Tynian asked, loosening the tie on his sword.

Garion chuckled. "I learned at a very young age how to speak and live like a wolf. I know how they think. To you and others I might seem like a human being, but to wolves, I am one of them. And when a strange, lone wolf comes into an established packs territory, it's usually to challenge the alpha for leadership. Right now, he's trying to figure out why I'm hiding looking like one of you." Garion pulled his horse to a stop and the knights copied him. He leapt off the horse and unbuckled the sword. He placed it on the saddle and also removed all the other little bits of metal. He then stepped away from the horses so as not to spook them, and looked over his shoulder. "Whatever happens, do nothing. I'll take care of this." Seeing them nod, he turned to look into the forest just as the alpha, his mate, and several betas came slinking out of the cover of the tree line.

Garion studied the pack, knowing that most were still in the trees watching to see what happened. He waited until the wolf pack was a dozen lengths then shifted back to wolf form. He could tell by the markings on the back of the otherwise brownish wolf that he was an old hand. "Greetings old one. One wishes the best for ones pack."

"One wonders what one is doing young old pup?" the, by wolf standard, ancient alpha asked. "Why is one hiding among the two legs and travelling through the territory of ones pack."

"One is simply travelling from one place to another and has no thoughts to harm or seek to take anything from one's pack, old one. One travels with the two legs and finds it is easier travelling if one takes their form so as not to frighten the beasts of burden."

"One is pleased that one has no desire to harm the pack. One would not wish to battle one such as you. One has lead the pack many winters and will soon need to pass leadership to another. One had hoped that the leadership would pass to one of one's own pups." the old head swung to look at the three betas who had followed him and his mate to meet the odd wolf.

"One is pleased at the evidence of the strength of your leadership. You have raised strong young pups who will lead well when they are ready." Garion stated his tail flicking to indicated pride in the strength of the old ones pack and pups.

"One gives thanks for your praise and pleasure that one has not had to fight you. One will take ones pack and return to the hunt. One hopes your journey is swift and your prey a worthy challenge for your strength. good hunting, young old one."

"Good hunting old one." Garion waited until they had all disappeared before returning to human form. He redressed into the bits he'd removed and slid the sheath and sword back into place before swinging back up onto the horses back. "We're set." he stated at the two who were watching him.

"Good conversation then?" Ulath asked, not put out at all that Garion had just changed into a wolf and back.

"Just assuring the pack leader that I didn't want to fight him for control of the pack or to steal any of their prey or females. Like I said, wolves are territorial and they consider anything in their territory as belonging to them, either for protection or for prey. I, as a wolf outside the tribe, had to justify my reason for crossing their territory. If they didn't like my reason, or if I had a negative reason for being here, they would have attack us."

Ulath blinked, looking back into the forest as the horses began to trot lightly down the road. "So you told him you were just passing through and didn't want anything that was theirs."

"That's about it. He was also curious why I was hiding as a human, so I told him it was easier for you and safer not to frighten the horses."

Ulath grunted and moved on to more important things. "We'll rest once the sun sets. We won't make a fire and we'll camp off the trail in the woods. If need be, we can chop down a few trees. There's a woodshop about an hour's rider from the place we should be stopping if we keep this pace. A distant cousin of Kurik's lives there and he wouldn't mind us saving him some time by chopping the trees down and preparing them near the edge of the road for him to get with his large hauling wagon. He makes some furniture and stuff that sell well in Cimmura and surrounding villages."

Garion just nodded, trusting in his new companions knowledge of the area and time constraints. He didn't really have any particular need to hurry. He'd waited 50 millennia after all. He could wait a few more days.

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"So you weren't able to learn anything else, Aphrael?" Sparhawk asked while sitting on the grass bench and petting the white deer that always came to him when he visited Aphrael's little world.

The child goddess was pacing back and forth among the various animals, absently patting them and stroking their fur to calm them as they picked up on her agitation. She was looking more worried and concerned then Sparhawk could ever recall seeing her. She was muttering in several languages, most of which he couldn't understand. From the odd word here and there he could pick up, he could guess at what she was saying.

"Nothing. Noting at all. No one in the Thousand knows anything about what's going on. We can't find the source of those surges we feel, we can only tell that it's moving. If ERND is right, then the person coming is a suicidal, 50 000 year old man who looks like he's in his 20s, and is powerful enough to defeat all of the Thousand in open battle." She flopped down onto her throne of branches. "I just don't know what we could do to stop him if this Garion is the source of the danger we've been feeling. And if he's not the source of danger, then that just means that there's a potentially even more dangerous and powerful person behind all these troubles."

"Do you think we might try reaching Bhelliom and seeing if there's something it can do?" Sparhawk asked, not entirely comfortable making the suggestion, but knowing that one of them had to say it aloud.

Aphrael sighed and looked sadly over her little world. "I don't think we could make it hear us anymore, Sparhawk. When it left, it did so knowing it would never come back. If it returns here, then that would allow Klael to return as well, and I for one never wish to see that monstrous being again."

Sparhawk shuddered at the mention of the Bhelliom's ancient enemy. He was quite certain that no one who had encountered that beast and lived wished to ever see or feel it's presence again.

"That's not something I think anyone wants to happen. But how do we know that we can trust Klael to stay away from this world anyway? If it's really as smart and evil as you and Bhelliom say, then what's to stop it from going back on the defeat and coming back to take this world from Bhelliom?"

Aphrael sighed, not sure how to explain. "Believe it or not, Sparhawk, that has happened only 1 time in all of existence. And it lead to a situation that could have wiped the universe from existence. Lucky, the situation was resolved long before any of the Styric or Elder gods came into being. Strangely enough, from what I understand after talking with ERND these last few days, it was Garion who fixed that problem. He refuses to explain more, saying only that part of it had to do with his own birth into god-hood. Judging from what he isn't saying, it likely has to do with the god Garion is supposed to have killed, this Torak."

The little goddess stood and started pacing again. "Torak was one of several results to Klael breaking the rules. His very existence was due to Klael doing just what you fear. He tried to subvert a world he had lost to Bhelliom back to his control, and the powers that guide the universe destroyed the entire galaxy that the planet was in. Billions of beings and planets gone in seconds because Klael broke the rules. Eriond was stuck in the body of a toddler for millennia, his mind locked as that of a child of his apparent age. And instead of him being the god of Angarak, Torak was created to fill the void. And Torak was a jealous, petty, narcissus who wanted nothing more then the worship of all mankind and control of everything in the world. He took one look at the Orb of Aldur, which we now know WAS a still confused and childlike Bhelliom, and sought to possess and control its' power. This Garion, who's name in the annals of history is Belgarion, was created as a means to correct the error of Klael's greed. He had to kill Torak and raise up the boy ERND to his proper and rightful position as God of mankind."

"And now someone or something is trying to cause another problem by bringing back these ancient gods to power and sweeping away the thousand?" Sparhawk asked. "I've had reports of growing bands of bandits attacking villages and claiming that they are soldiers of the 7 Gods of Man. This person or thing has been spreading through most of the continent sowing discord and anger among the peasantry towards the Church and the Styrics. It's become such a threat that a person out of a time so long past it's been forgotten even by the gods, has come out of wherever he's been hiding in order to combat this threat. And not only that, but this person out of hiding is seeking the one object that would allow him to die, yet that object no longer exists on this world." Sparhawk rubbed his eyes and slumped as best he could on the soft grass mound and surrounding bodies of white beasts. "I hate to say it, Aphrael, but I think we're in between a rock and a hard place. If God says that Garion will battle this threat, then I can't deny HIS judgement. But what happens if we defeat this threat, then what happens when we tell Garion that we CAN'T give him his Orb since it longer exists in this world."

His face became grim and he leaned forward, meeting Aphrael's eyes for the first time since entering the dream realm. "And what can any of us do to stop him if he gets angry with us for letting it go?"

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A cloaked figure sat staring out into the empty courtyard of his captured stronghold. His followers were growing in number, and he'd even found a few capable of the use of his brand of magic compared to the weak prayer spells common in this age. His plans were proceeding at a decent rate of success and speed. His latest attempt to draw out the last remaining wielders of the Will and Word had been successful in part. He'd felt only one presence, a very powerful presence that was only vaguely familiar to him. By the lack of familiarity and the power, he knew that it was not Belgarath who had resurfaced, nor was it Polgara or any of his other brothers. This left only the young child-king Belgarion. This struck him as a likely candidate for the source of the power he felt as he had not known the Heir of Riva at all until his supposed demise.

While he had hidden himself away, he had felt the power wielded by the child-king as he defeated the god Torak in armed battle, and later outsmarted that foolish woman Zandramas who had bet that Belgarion would be too sentimental to not pass his power on to his own flesh and blood. He had tried guiding the woman, but she had refused all his offers of aid and suggestions for strategies. Instead she had kidnapped the Godslayer's only son and tried to play on his love for the child over his duty to the world.

He stood and went to the large window, gazing at the sky. He scanned it for the area that had once held nothing but empty space and sneered as he stared at the now starlit area. He felt small surges of sound indicating someone using the Will and Word and traced them to their source. It was only his few apprentices, working on the lessons he had left them. He had not patience for teaching, and had none in his first life either. So he had taken a method from the heathen Styrics and their pathetic godlings and written down a series of exercises designed to increase his students strength and control. Some had decent levels of power, possibly equal to the twins or the hunchback, but no where near Polgara or Belgarath, who had always been the strongest of Aldur's chosen. Save for the Godslayer, who had finally come out of hiding. Now he just had to find out who else was still around that he might have to battle or kill. He would step up the attacks. It was time for his followers to stop hiding and show themselves. He would bring power back to his gods and the names of the true gods would again be on the minds and hearts of the people. It was that or death.

Either way worked for him.