Enchanters' End Game

"A storm?" General Varana asked, looking a bit surprised.

"Not at this time of year - and certainly not from that direction," Polgara replied. "The Grolims are up to something, and that's going to be my fight. Deploy your forces, gentlemen. If there's going to be a battle, let's be ready for it."

"The ships are moving," Durnik reported as he and Olban came back to the sheltered little cove, "and the troops are leaving the city."

King Rhodar rode up. His broad face was streaked with soot and perspiration. "Anheg's leaving," he said, swinging down from his saddle with a grunt.

"Where's Fulrach?" Brand asked.

"He's taking the bulk of the troops across to the south bank."

"Isn't that going to leave us a little undermanned on this side?" General Varana inquired politely.

"That bridge is too narrow," Rhodar told him. "It would take hours to bring enough men across to make any difference. Brendig's already got a crew undermining the supports so that we can bring the bridge down before the Angaraks get here."

"What for?" Ce'Nedra asked him.

"Thull Mardu's too good a vantage point, your Highness," General Varana explained. "We don't want any Angaraks on the island if we can help it." He looked at King Rhodar. "Have you given any thought to tactics?" he asked.

"We want to give Anheg a half a day, if possible," Rhodar replied. "The ground along the river gets marshy about twenty leagues downstream, and the Angaraks won't be able to get close enough to pester him, once he gets that far. Let's form up a conventional infantry linepikemen, the legions, Sendars, and so on. We'll put the archers in support and use the Algars to slash at the flanks. I want to hold the Mimbrate knights in reserve until the Malloreans mass up for their first charge."

"That's not a winning tactic, if your Majesty will forgive my saying so," General Varana said.

"We aren't here to win, Varana," Rhodar told him. "We're here to delay the Angaraks for about six hours and then withdraw. I'm not going to waste lives trying to win a battle I haven't any chance of winning." He turned to Hettar. "I want you to send a force of your clansmen on a sweep downriver. Tell them to uproot any Malloreans they find emplaced along the riverbank. The significance of the fleet still may have escaped 'Zakath and Taur Urgas. Angaraks aren't good sailors, so they probably don't realize what Anheg can do, once he gets into the Sea of the East."

"Excuse me, your Majesty," Varana objected, "but all of your strategy - even the fleet - is merely a delaying action."

"That's the whole point, Varana," Rhodar told him bluntly. "All of this is really rather insignificant. What's really important is going to happen in Mallorea when Belgarion reaches Cthol Mishrak. We'd better move, gentlemen. The Malloreans will be here before long, and we want to be ready for them."

The cloudbank Polgara had pointed out was sweeping toward them with an alarming speed, a seething darkness of rolling purple, stalking forward on crooked legs of lightning. A hot wind seemed to flee out ahead of it, flattening the grass and whipping the manes and tails of the horses wildly. As King Rhodar and the others moved out to meet the approaching Mallorean army, Polgara, her face pale and her hair tossing behind her in the wind, climbed the grassy bank with Ce'Nedra and Durnik behind her and stood watching the approach of the cloud. "Take the child, Ce'Nedra," she said quite calmly. "Don't let go of him, no matter what happens."

"Yes, Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra said, holding out her arms to Errand. The child came to her immediately, his serious little face unafraid. She picked him up and held him close, her cheek against his.

"Errand?" he said, pointing at the approaching storm.

Then, among the ranks of their army, shadowy figures rose up out of the ground. The figures wore black robes and polished steel masks and carried cruel-pointed short spears. Without pausing to even think, a mounted young Mimbrate knight swept his broadsword from its scabbard and swung the whistling blade at one of the steel-masked figures. His sword passed through the figure with no effect. As he struck, however, a sizzling bolt of lightning struck him, seeming to attach itself to the point of his helmet. He stiffened convulsively as the lightning, like a writhing snake of intense light, clung to the tip of his steel helm. Smoke boiled out of the slits of his visor as he roasted inside his armor. His horse lurched forward onto its knees while the ghastly, flickering light engulfed them both. Then the lightning was gone, and horse and man collapsed, stone dead.

Polgara hissed and then raised her voice. She did not seem to be speaking that loudly, but the effect of her words reached the farthest edges of the army. "Do not touch the shadows," she warned. "They're Grolim illusions and can't hurt you unless you touch them. They're here to draw the lightning to you, so stay clear of them."

"But, Mistress Pol," Durnik protested, "the troops won't be able to hold ranks if they have to keep dodging the shadows."

"I'll take care of the shadows," she replied grimly. She raised both arms above her head, her fists clenched. A look of dreadful concentration filled her face, and then she spoke a single word, opening her hands as she did so. The grass, which had been bending toward them in the hot wind preceding the storm, suddenly flattened in the opposite direction as the force of Polgara's will rippled outward. As that force passed over each shadowy Grolim illusion, the figures seemed to flinch, then shrivel, and then with silent detonations, each shadow exploded into shards and fragments of darkness.

Polgara was gasping as the last of the shadows on the farthest edge of the army vanished, and she would have collapsed had Durnik not jumped to her side to support her. "Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

"Just give me a moment," she said, wilting against him. "That took a great deal of effort." She smiled at him, a wan little smile, and then her head drooped wearily.

"Won't they come back?" Ce'Nedra demanded. "What I mean is, it didn't actually hurt the real Grolims, did it? Just their shadows."

Polgara laughed weakly. "Oh, it hurt them, all right," she replied. "Those Grolims don't have shadows any more. Not one of them will ever cast a shadow again."

"Not ever?" the princess gasped.

"Not ever."

Then Beldin joined them, swooping in with the wind tearing at his feathers. "We've got work to do, Polgara," he growled even as he shimmered into his natural shape. "We're going to have to break up this storm they're bringing in from the west. I talked with the twins. They'll work on the southern side of it, and you and I'll take this side."