Castle Of Wizardry Part 7

"Not very long," Durnik replied.

"I didn't think so." The little man looked happily at the smoking blaze. "Good fire," he said, holding his hands out to the warmth.

"The smoke's going to delay them, but I think it's time to move on out," Belgarath said, squinting at the cloud-obscured ball of the sun hanging low over the horizon to the west. "We'll move on up the face of the escarpment and then make a run for it. We'll want to surprise them a bit, to give us time to get out of range before they start throwing rocks down on us."

"Is there any sign of Hettar out there?" Barak asked, peering out at the gra.s.sland.

"We haven't seen any yet," Durnik replied.

"You do know that we're going to lead half of Cthol Murgos out onto the plain?" Barak pointed out to Belgarath.

"That can't be helped. For right now, we've got to get out of here. If Taur Urgas is up there, he's going to send people after us, even if he has to throw them off the cliff personally. Let's go."

They followed the face of the cliff for a mile or more until they found a spot where the rockfall did not extend so far out onto the plain. "This will do," Belgarath decided. "As soon as we get to level ground, we ride hard straight out. An arrow shot off the top of that cliff will carry a long way. Is everybody ready?" He looked around at them. "Let's move, then."

They led their horses down the short, steep slope of rock to the gra.s.sy plain below, mounted quickly and set off at a dead run.

"Arrow!" Silk said sharply, looking up and back over his shoulder. Garion, without thinking, slashed with his will at the tiny speck arching down toward them. In the same instant he felt a peculiar double surge coming from either side of him. The arrow broke into several pieces in midair.

"If you two don't mind!" Belgarath said irritably to Garion and Aunt Pol, half reining in his horse.

"I just didn't want you to tire yourself, father," Aunt Pol replied coolly. "I'm sure Garion feels the same way."

"Couldn't we discuss it later?" Silk suggested, looking apprehensively back at the towering escarpment.

They plunged on, the long, brown gra.s.s whipping at the legs of their horses. Other arrows began to fall, dropping farther and farther behind them as they rode. By the time they were a half mile out from the sheer face, the arrows were sheeting down from the top of the cliff in a whistling black rain.

"Persistent, aren't they?" Silk observed.

"It's a racial trait," Barak replied. "Murgos are stubborn to the point of idiocy."

"Keep going," Belgarath told them. "It's just a question of time until they bring up a catapult."

"They're throwing ropes down the face of the cliff," Dumik reported, peering back at the escarpment. "As soon as a few of them get to the bottom, they'll pull the fire clear of the ravine and start bringing horses down."

"At least it slowed them down a bit," Belgarath said.

Twilight, hardly more than a gradual darkening of the cloudy murk that had obscured the sky for several days, began to creep across the Algarian plain. They rode on.

Garion glanced back several times as he rode and noticed moving pinpoints of light along the base of the cliff. "Some of them have reached the bottom, grandfather," he called to the old man, who was pounding along in the lead. "I can see their torches."

"It was bound to happen," the sorcerer replied.

It was nearly midnight by the time they reached the Aldur River, lying black and oily-looking between its frosty banks.

"Does anybody have any idea how we're going to find that ford in the dark?" Durnik asked.

"I'll find it," Relg told him. "It isn't all that dark for me. Wait here."

"That could give us a certain advantage," Silk noted. "We'll be able to ford the river, but the Murgos will flounder around on this side in the dark for half the night. We'll be leagues ahead of them before they get across."

"That was one of the things I was sort of counting on," Belgarath replied smugly.

It was a half an hour before Relg returned. "It isn't far," he told them.

They remounted and rode through the chill darkness, following the curve of the river bank until they heard the unmistakable gurgle and wash of water running over stones. "That's it just ahead," Relg said.

"It's still going to be dangerous fording in the dark," Barak pointed out.

"It isn't that dark," Relg said. "Just follow me." He rode confidently a hundred yards farther upriver, then turned and nudged his horse into the shallow rippling water.

Garion felt his horse flinch from the icy chill as he rode out into the river, following closely behind Belgarath. Behind him he heard Durnik coaxing the now-unburdened pack animals into the water.

The river was not deep, but it was very wide - almost a half mileand in the process of fording, they were all soaked to the knees.

"The rest of the night promises to be moderately unpleasant," Silk observed, shaking one sodden foot.

"At least you've got the river between you and Taur Urgas," Barak reminded him.

"That does brighten things up a bit," Silk admitted.

They had not gone a half mile, however, before Mandorallen's charger went down with a squeal of agony. The knight, with a great clatter, tumbled in the gra.s.s as he was pitched out of the saddle. His great horse floundered with threshing legs, trying futilely to rise.

"What's the matter with him?" Barak demanded sharply.

Behind them, with another squeal, one of the packhorses collapsed. "What is it?" Garion asked Durnik, his voice shrill.

"It's the cold," Durnik answered, swinging down from his saddle. "We've ridden them to exhaustion, and then we made them wade across the river. The chill's settled into their muscles."

"What do we do?"

"We have to rub them down - all of them - with wool."

"We don't have time for that," Silk objected.

"It's that or walk," Durnik declared, pulling off his stout wool cloak and beginning to rub vigorously at his horse's legs with it.

"Maybe we should build a fire," Garion suggested, also dismounting and beginning to rub down his horse's shivering legs.

"There isn't anything around here to burn," Durnik told him. "This is all open gra.s.sland."

"And a fire would set up a beacon for every Murgo within ten miles," Barak added, ma.s.saging the legs of his gray horse.

They all worked as rapidly as possible, but the sky to the east had begun to pale with the first hints of dawn before Mandorallen's horse was on his feet again and the rest of their mounts were able to move.

"They won't be able to run," Durnik declared somberly. "We shouldn't even ride them."

"Durnik," Silk protested, "Taur Urgas is right behind us."

"They won't last a league if we try to make them run," the smith said stubbornly. "There's nothing left in them."

They rode away from the river at a walk. Even at that pace, Garion could feel the trembling of his horse under him. They all looked back frequently, watching the dark-shrouded plain beyond the river as the sky grew gradually lighter. When they reached the top of the first low hills, the deep shadow which had obscured the gra.s.slands behind them faded and they were able to see movement. Then, as the light grew stronger, they saw an army of Murgos swarming toward the river. In the midst of them were the flapping black banners of Taur Urgas himself.

The Murgos came on in waves until they reached the far bank of the river. Then their mounted scouts ranged out until they located the ford. The bulk of the army Taur Urgas had brought down to the plain was still on foot, but cl.u.s.ters of horses were being driven up from the rear as rapidly as they could be brought down the narrow cut leading from the top of the escarpment.

As the first units began splashing across the ford, Silk turned to Belgarath. "Now what?" the little man asked in a worried voice.

"We'd better get off the top of this hill," the old man replied. "I don't think they've seen us yet, but it's just a question of time, I'm afraid." They rode down into a little swale just beyond the hill. The overcast which had obscured the sky for the past week or more had begun to blow off, and broad patches of pale, icy blue had begun to appear, though the sun had not yet come up.

"My guess is that he's going to hold the bulk of his army on the far side," Belgarath told them after they had all dismounted. "He'll bring them on across as their horses catch up. As soon as they get to this side, they're going to spread out to look for us."

"That's the way I'd do it," Barak agreed.

"Somebody ought to keep an eye on them," Durnik suggested. He started back up the hill on foot. "I'll let you know if they start doing anything unusual."

Belgarath seemed lost in thought. He paced up and down, his hands clasped together behind his back and an angry look on his face. "This isn't working out the way I'd expected," he said finally. "I hadn't counted on the horses playing out on us."

"Is there any place we can hide?" Barak asked.

Belgarath shook his head. "This is all gra.s.sland," he replied. "There aren't any rocks or caves or trees, and it's going to be impossible to cover our tracks." He kicked at the tall gra.s.s. "This isn't turning out too well," he admitted glumly. "We're all alone out here on exhausted horses." He chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip. "The nearest help is in the Vale. I think we'd better turn south and make for it. We're fairly close."

"How close?" Silk asked.

"Ten leagues or so."

"That's going to take all day, Belgarath. I don't think we've got that long."

"We might have to tamper with the weather a bit," Belgarath conceded. "I don't like doing that, but I might not have any choice." There was a distant low rumble somewhere off to the north. The little boy looked up and smiled at Aunt Pol. "Errand?" he asked.

"Yes, dear," she replied absently.

"Can you pick up any traces of Algars in the vicinity, Pol?" Belgarath asked her.

She shook her head. "I think I'm too close to the Orb, father. I keep getting an echo that blots things out more than a mile or so away."

"It always has been noisy," he grunted sourly.

"Talk to it, father," she suggested. "Maybe it will listen to you."

He gave her a long, hard look - a look she returned quite calmly. "I can do without that, miss," he told her finally in a crisp voice.

There was another low rumble, from the south this time. "Thunder?" Silk said, looking a bit puzzled. "Isn't this an odd time of year for it?"

"This plain breeds peculiar weather," Belgarath said. "There isn't anything between here and Drasnia but eight hundred leagues of gra.s.s."

"Do we try for the Vale then?" Barak asked.

"It looks as if we'll have to," the old man replied.

Durnik came back down the hill. "They're coming across the river," he reported, "but they aren't spreading out yet. It looks as if they want to get more men across before they start looking for us."

"How hard can we push the horses without hurting them?" Silk asked him.

"Not very," Durnik replied. "It would be better to save them until we absolutely have to use up whatever they've got left. If we walk and lead them for an hour or so, we might be able to get a canter out of them - for short periods of time."

"Let's go along the back side of the crest," Belgarath said, picking up the reins of his horse. "We'll stay pretty much out of sight that way, but I want to keep an eye on Taur Urgas." He led them at an angle back up out of the swale.

The clouds had broken even more now, and the tatters raced in the endless winds that swept the vast gra.s.sland. To the east, the sky was turning a pale pink. Although the Algarian plain did not have that bitter, arid chill that had cut at them in the uplands of Cthol Murgos and Mishrak ac Thull, it was still very cold. Garion shivered, drew his cloak in tight about him, and kept walking, trailing his weary horse behind him.

There was another brief rumble, and the little boy, perched in the saddle of Aunt Pol's horse laughed. "Errand," he announced.

"I wish he'd stop that," Silk said irritably.

They glanced from time to time over the crest of the long hill as they walked. Below, in the broad valley of the Aldur River, the Murgos of Taur Urgas were fording in larger and larger groups. It appeared that fully half his army had reached the west bank by now, and the red and black standard of the king of the Murgos stood planted defiantly on Algarian soil.

"If he brings too many more men down the escarpment, it's going to take something pretty significant to dislodge him," Barak rumbled, scowling down at the Murgos.

"I know," Belgarath replied, "and that's the one thing I've wanted to avoid. We aren't ready for a war just yet."

The sun, huge and red, ponderously moved up from behind the eastern escarpment, turning the sky around it rosy. In the still-shadowed valley below them, the Murgos continued to splash across the river in the steely morning light.

"Methinks he will await the sun before he begins the search for us," Mandorallen observed.

"And that's not very far off," Barak agreed, glancing at the slowly moving band of sunlight just touching the hill along which they moved. "We've probably got half an hour at the most. I think it's getting to the point where we're going to have to gamble on the horses. Maybe if we switch mounts every mile or so, we can get some more distance out of them."

The rumble that came then could not possibly have been thunder. The ground shook with it, and it rolled on and on endlessly from both the north and south.

And then, pouring over the crests of the hills surrounding the valley of the Aldur like some vast tide suddenly released by the bursting of a mighty dam, came the clans of the Algars. Down they plunged upon the startled Murgos thickly cl.u.s.tered along the banks of the river, and their great war cry shook the very heavens as they fell like wolves upon the divided army of Taur Urgas.

A lone horseman veered out of the great charge of the clans and came pounding up the hillside toward Garion and his friends. As the warrior drew closer, Garion could see his long scalp lock flowing behind him and his drawn sabre catching the first rays of the morning sun. It was Hettar. A vast surge of relief swept over Garion. They were safe.

"Where have you been?" Barak demanded in a great voice as the hawk-faced Algar rode closer.

"Watching," Hettar replied calmly as he reined in. "We wanted to let the Murgos get out a ways from the escarpment so we could cut them off. My father sent me to see how you all are."

"How considerate," Silk observed sardonically. "Did it ever occur to you to let us know you were out there?"

Hettar shrugged. "We could see that you were all right." He looked critically at their exhausted mounts. "You didn't take very good care of them," he said accusingly.

"We were a bit pressed," Durnik apologized.

"Did you get the Orb?" the tall man asked Belgarath, glancing hungrily down toward the river where a vast battle had been joined.

"It took a bit, but we got it," the old sorcerer replied.

"Good." Hettar turned his horse, and his lean face had a fierce look on it. "I'll tell Cho-Hag. Will you excuse me?" Then he stopped as if remembering something. "Oh," he said to Barak, "congratulations, by the way."

"For what?" the big man asked, looking puzzled.