‘It’s all right,’ I told him. ‘That was supposed to happen. Now pick up the blade and put the bottom of it against the top of the hilt.’
He did that. ‘Now what?’
‘Push.’
‘Push? What do you mean, push?’
‘You know what the word means. Push the blade into the hilt.’
‘That’s ridiculous, Belgarath. They’re both solid steel.’
I sighed. ‘Just try it, Riva. Don’t stand around arguing with me. This is magic, and I’m the expert. Don’t push too hard, or you’ll shove the blade all the way through.’
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Do it, Riva!’
The blade made a strange singing sound as it slowly slid into the hilt, and the sound shuddered all the snow off nearby trees. When it was fully inserted, Riva tentatively wiggled the two pieces. Then he wrenched at them. ‘What an amazing thing!’ he said. ‘It’s all one piece now!’
‘Naturally. Grab the hilt and hold your sword up.’ This was the real test.
He took hold of the two-handed hilt and lifted that huge sword a foot or so. ‘It hardly weighs anything!’ he exclaimed.
‘The Orb’s carrying the weight,’ I explained. ‘Remember that when you have to take the Orb off. If you’re holding the sword in one hand when you do that, the weight of it’ll probably break your wrist. Raise the sword, Iron-grip.’
He lifted it easily over his head, and, as I’d hoped, it burst joyously into blue flame, shearing off the rough edges and polishing the sword to mirror brightness. ‘Nice job,’ I complimented him. Then I howled with delight and danced a little jig of pure joy.
Riva was gaping at his flaming sword. ‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘You did it right, boy!’ I exulted.
‘You mean this was supposed to happen?’
‘Every time, Riva! Every time! The sword’s part of the Orb now. That’s why it’s on fire. Every time you raise it up like that, it’ll take fire, and if I understand it right, it’ll do the same thing when your son picks it up - and his son - and his son as well.’
‘I don’t have a son.’
‘Wait a while, he’ll be along. Bring your sword. We’re supposed to go up to the summit now.’
He spent a fair amount of time swishing that sword through the air as we climbed the rest of the way to the top. I’ll admit that it was impressive, but the screeching whistle it made as it carved chunks off the air began to get on my nerves after a while. He was having fun, though, so I didn’t say anything to him about it.
There was a boulder at the top of the peak that was about the size of a large house. I looked at it when we got there, and I began to have some doubts about what we were supposed to do. It was an awfully big rock.
‘All right,’ Riva said, ‘now what?’
‘Get a firm grip on your sword and split that rock.’
‘That’ll shatter the blade, Belgarath.’
It’s not supposed to.’
‘Why am I supposed to split rocks with my sword? Wouldn’t a sledge-hammer work better?’
‘You could pound on that boulder with a hammer for a year and not even dent it.’
‘More magic?’
‘Sort of. There used to be a river running down the valley. It got dammed up when Torak cracked the world. It’s still there, though - under that boulder. Your family’s going to repair the world, and this is where you’re going to start. Break the rock, Riva. Free the river. You’re going to need fresh water in your city anyway.’
He shrugged. ‘If you say so, Belgarath.’
Garion, I want you to notice the absolute trust that boy had. You might want to think about that the next time you feel like arguing with me.
Riva raised up that enormous flaming sword and delivered a blow that probably would have broken a lesser rock down into rubble. I’m sure that the sound startled all the deer in Sendaria.
The boulder split evenly down the middle, and the two sides fell ponderously out of the way.
The river came gushing out like a breaking wave.
Riva and I got very wet at that point. We struggled out of the water and stood looking at our river with a certain sense of accomplishment. ‘Oops,’ Riva said after a moment.
‘Oops what?’
‘Maybe I should have warned the fellows working down below,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think they’ll be too happy about this.’
‘They aren’t down in the stream-bed, Riva. That’s where they’ve been dumping the excess dirt and rock they’re scraping off those terraces.’
‘I hope you’re right. Otherwise, they’ll probably get washed out to sea, and they’ll probably swear at me for a week after they swim back.’
As it turned out, our newly released river saved those Alorns months of work. There were natural terraces under all the accumulated debris they’d been moving, and that first rush of water washed those terraces clean. The Alorns who were washed out to sea were so pleased with that turn of events that they didn’t even swear at Riva - at least not very much.
Now that Riva had his sword, I was finished with the things I was supposed to do on the Isle of the Winds. I could finally go home. I spent a day or so giving Riva and his cousin Anrak their instructions. Anrak was a little too fond of good brown ale, but he was a good-natured fellow of whom the other Alorns were all very fond. He was the perfect second-in-command. Some of the orders Riva was going to have to give his people wouldn’t go down very well. Anrak, with his boisterous, good-humored laughter, was the perfect one to make them palatable. I sketched in Riva’s throne room for him and told him how to fasten his sword to the wall behind the throne. It was a little difficult to keep his attention, since he wanted to talk about the girl in his dream. Then I wished them good luck and went off down the beach until I was out of sight. There was no real point to upsetting Riva’s people any more than they already were.
I chose the form of an albatross for my return to the mainland. A seven-foot wingspan is very useful when you fly as badly as I do. After I was a few miles out to sea and had picked up some altitude, I learned the trick of simply locking those great wings out and coasting along on the air. What a joy that was! No flapping. No floundering. No panic. I even got to the point where I liked it. I think I could have soared like that for a solid month. I even took a few short naps on my way.
It was almost with regret that I saw the coast of what’s now Sendaria on the horizon.
You wouldn’t believe how different Sendaria was in those days. What’s now farmland was an untamed forest of huge trees, and just about the only part of it that was inhabited was a stretch along the north bank of the Camaar River that was occupied by the Wacite Arends. Because I was really in a hurry to get back to the Vale, I took the familiar form of the wolf and loped off through the forest.
This time I didn’t have to periodically wait for any Alorns to catch up with me, so I made very good time. It was summer by now, so I had good weather. I angled down across Sendaria in a southeasterly direction and soon reached the mountains.
After a bit of consideration, I decided not to waste time with a tiresome detour, but to cut straight across the northern end of Ulgoland. I didn’t really think that the monsters would be a problem. They were interested in men, not wolves; even Algroths and Hrulgin avoided wolves.
I gave some thought to swinging by Prolgu to advise the current Gorim of what had happened in Mallorea, but I decided against it. My Master knew about it, and he’d have certainly advised UL before he and his brothers had departed.
That was something I didn’t really want to think about. My Master had been the central fact of my life for four thousand years, and his departure left a very large hole in my concept of the world. I couldn’t imagine the Vale without him.
Anyway, I bypassed Prolgu and continued southeasterly toward the Vale. I saw a few Algroths lurking near the edge of the trees, and once a herd of Hrulgin, but they wisely chose not to interfere with me. I was in a hurry, and I wasn’t in any mood for interruptions.
I loped across a ridge-line and descended into a river gorge. Since all the rivers on this side of the mountains of Ulgo flowed eastward to empty into the Aldur River, the quickest way to reach the Vale would be simply to follow the river until it reached the plains of Algaria.
Notice that I was already thinking of that vast grassland in those terms.
I can’t exactly remember why I chose to resume my own form when I reached the river. Maybe I thought I needed a bath. I’d been on the go for six months now, and I certainly didn’t want to offend Poledra by showing up in our tower smelling like a goat. Perhaps it was because I wanted a hot meal. As a wolf, I was quite satisfied with a diet of raw rabbit or uncooked deer or even an occasional field-mouse, but I was not entirely a wolf, and I periodically grew hungry for cooked food. I pulled down a deer, anyway, resumed my own form and set to work building a fire. I spitted a haunch, set it to roasting over the fire, and bathed in the river while it cooked.
I probably ate too much. A wolf on the move doesn’t really spend too much time eating - usually no more than a few bites before he’s off again - so I’d definitely managed to build up quite an appetite.