Enchanters' End Game

"Fatherhood is his destiny," UL said. "From him will issue a special child. I will explain this to him. He is an obedient man, and he will put aside his aversions for my sake."

"Then thou wilt give him to me, Father?" Mara asked eagerly.

"He is throe - with but one restriction - of which we will speak later."

"Let us see this brave Sendar, then," Mara said, and all traces of his weeping were now gone.

"Belgarion, " the voice in Garion's mind said.

"What?"

"The restoration of your friend is in your hands now."

"Me? Why me?"

"Must you always say that? Do you want Durnik's life restored?"

"Of course, but I can't do it. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"You did it before. Remember the colt in the cave of the Gods?"

Garion had almost forgotten that.

"You are my instrument, Belgarion. I can keep you from making mistakes - most of the time anyway. Just relax; I'll show you what to do." Garion was already moving without conscious volition. He let his arm fall from about Ce'Nedra's shoulders, and, his sword still in his hand, he walked slowly toward Aunt Pol and Durnik's body. He looked once into her eyes as she sat with the dead man's head in her lap, and then he knelt beside the body.

"For me, Garion," she murmured to him.

"If I can, Aunt Pol," he said.

Then, without knowing why, he laid the sword of the Rivan King upon the ground and took hold of the Orb at its pommel. With a faint click, the Orb came free in his hand. Errand, smiling now, approached from the other side and also knelt, taking up Durnik's lifeless hand in his. Holding the Orb in both hands, Garion reached out and put it against the dead man's chest. He was faintly conscious of the fact that the Gods had gathered about in a circle and that they had reached out their arms, palm to palm, forming an unbroken ring. Within that circle, a great light began to pulsate, and the Orb, as if in answer, glowed between his hands.

The blank wall he had seen once before was there again, still black, impenetrable, and silent. As he had before in the cave of the Gods, Garion pushed tentatively against the substance of death itself, striving to reach through and pull his friend back into the world of the living.

It was different this time. The colt he had brought to life in the cave had never lived except within its mother's body. Its death had been as tenuous as its life, and it lay but a short distance beyond the barrier. Durnik, however, had been a man full grown, and his death, like his life, was far more profound. With all his strength, Garion pushed. He could feel the enormous force of the combined wills of the Gods joining with his in the silent struggle, but the barrier would not yield.

"Use the Orbl " the voice commanded.

This time Garion focused all the power, his own and that of the Gods upon the round stone between his hands. It flickered, then glowed, then flickered again.

"Help me!" Garion commanded it.

As if suddenly understanding, the Orb flared into a coruscating eruption of colored light. The barrier was weakening.

With an encouraging little smile, Errand reached out and laid one hand upon the blazing Orb.

The barrier broke. Durnik's chest heaved, and he coughed once. With profoundly respectful expression upon their eternal faces, the Gods stepped back. Aunt Pol cried out in sudden relief and clasped her arms about Durnik, cradling him against her.

"Errand," the child said to Garion with a peculiar note of satisfaction. Garion stumbled to his feet, exhausted by the struggle and nearly staggering as he moved away.

"Are you all right?" Ce'Nedra demanded of him, even as she ducked her head beneath his arm and firmly pulled it about her tiny shoulders. He nodded, though his knees almost buckled.

"Lean on me," she told him.

He was about to protest, but she put her hand firmly to his lips. "Don't argue, Garion," she told him. "You know that I love you and that you're going to be leaning on me for the rest of your life anyway, so you might as well get used to the idea."

"I think my life's going to be different now, Master," Belgarath was saying to Aldur. "Pol's always been there, ready to come when I called her - not always willingly, perhaps - but she always came. Now she'll have other concerns." He sighed. "I suppose our children all grow up and get married sometime."

"This particular pose doth not become thee, my son," Aldur told him.

Belgarath grinned. "I've never been able to slip anything past you, Master," he said. Then his face grew serious again. "Polgara's been almost like a son to me," he told Aldur, "but perhaps it's time that I let her be a woman. I've denied her that for too long."

"As it seems best to thee, my son," Aldur said. "And now, I pray thee, go apart a little way and permit us our family grief." He looked at Torak's body lying on the bier and then at Garion. "I have but one more task for thee, Belgarion," he said. "Take the Orb and place it upon my brother's breast."

"Yes, Master," Garion replied immediately. He removed his arm from about Ce'Nedra's shoulders and walked to the bier, trying not to look at the dead God's seared and twisted face. He reached out and laid the round blue stone upon the motionless chest of Kal Torak. Then he stepped back. Once again his little princess wormed her way beneath his arm and clasped him about the waist. It was not unpleasant, but he had the brief, irrational thought that things would be awkward if she were going to insist on this close embrace for the rest of their lives.

Once again the Gods formed their circle, and once again the Orb began to glow. Gradually, the seared face started to change, its maiming slowly disappearing. The light surrounding the Gods and the bier grew stronger, and the glow of the Orb became incandescent. The last Garion saw of the face of Torak, it was calm, composed and unmarked. It was a beautiful face, but it was nonetheless still a dead face.

And then the light grew so intense that Garion could no longer look at it. When it subsided, and when Garion looked back at the bier, the Gods and the body of Torak were gone. Only the Orb remained, glowing slightly as it lay on the rough stone.

Errand, once again with that confident look, went to the bier. Standing on his tiptoes, he reached across the block to retrieve the glowing stone. Then he carried it to Garion. "Errand, Belgarion," he said firmly, handing the Orb back, and in their touch as the Orb exchanged hands, Garion felt something profoundly different.

Drawn together by what had happened, the little group silently gathered about Aunt Pol and Durnik. To the east, the sky had begun to lighten, and the rosy blush of dawn touched the few last remaining tatters of the cloud that had covered Cthol Mishrak. The events of the dreadful night had been titanic, but now the night was nearly over, and they stood together, not speaking as they watched the dawn.