Eriond's visit to the Vale

They sat in the center of the golden lamp-light enhancing the color of the chairs and the table made by Durnik out of good old oak. Once again, Garion wondered how strangely familiar this room felt for him. All those carefully polished copper pots, kettles and pans hanging neatly on the walls he seemed to know by name. It was almost as in those old days at Faldor's farm in Polgara's kitchen. Of course, he knew that it would never again be really the same. Too much things had happened, and he was not a little boy any more. His son slept together with all the other children in this house, and Garion certainly hoped that he would sleep until the morning undisturbed.
They had finished eating some time ago, and the women were washing the dishes. Surprisingly, Ce'Nedra volunteered to help. As usually, it gave them plenty of time to talk about details in the growing up of children that never occurred to Garion. Poledra, however, seemed to find it amusing that they made so much words about those natural things.
Even though it wasn't very late yet, the children were gone to sleep already in the loft. There was a lot of whispering and giggling at first, but they fell asleep almost immediately. The wild games at the creek behind the cottage had taken their tribute. Geran and Beldaran met Pol's twins for the first time, but it was as if they always knew each other. Garion was told that the names of the twins were Poldene and Poldana. It didn't mean much, though. They looked absolutely identical to him. Geran and Beldaran could tell them apart without difficulty - Polgara confirmed that they never erred. It was beyond Garion's understanding how they did it. Naturally, Geran tried very hard to look more seriously than the little girls, but he didn't succeed too well.
It was one of their regular family get-togethers, and this time they didn't even have to make any special efforts to get here. The Alorn Council was in Algaria this year. Traditionally, it would have been in Riva, but the order was changed this time. Hettar invited them to the Stronghold for the most enjoyable reason you could think of in Algaria - his eldest son, Garth, turned out to be a Sha-Dar. And, of course, it was not all that far from there to the cottage in the Vale, where Polgara and Durnik lived with their twins.

However, Garion wasn't entirely happy with all of that. Naturally, Hettar was proud that his son was a Horse Lord, but Garion remembered for some reason Cyradis's words at Rheon. She said that the tasks of Barak, Hettar and Mandorallen were complete, and that the responsibility for them had descended to their sons. But if Unrak could turn into a bear, and Hettar's son was a Sha-Dar, wouldn't that mean that Geran needs protection, and that there would be some problems requiring to communicate with horses? Unfortunately, anything what happened lately seemed to support his worries.
Officially, Geran accompanied them because he was already not a little boy, and the heir of the Rivan throne. In fact, however, Ce'Nedra simply refused this time to leave him in Riva. For many years it seemed that the nightmares of his early childhood had gone. But recently they returned - Geran awoke in the middle of the night crying. Later he said that he couldn't remember anything from this nightmare, but Garion had his doubts.
Of course, he didn't feel any better when he received Barak's letter - in this very night, a few hundred leagues apart, Unrak turned into a bear. And this was not all. A servant who was in the dark and empty throne room in this night occasionally saw the Orb glowing in a ghastly green light.

"A tankard of ale, perhaps," Durnik proposed, interrupting Garion's thoughts. "Oh yes, Durnik, why not," Belgarath replied instantly. Then, however, he looked a little nervously at Poledra, standing nearby with a dish-towel. Garion remembered that his ultimate grandmother didn't like the smell of beer, and he guessed that Belgarath would probably have an unpleasant talk a little later. "Oh, I believe one tankard won't hurt them," Ce'Nedra decided magnanimonously, "it's only after a dozen or so when Garion starts singing." Garion knew that she had to say that.

Since they had decided that Geran would go with them to Algaria, it was out of the question to leave Beldaran in Riva. She was terribly proud of her big brother, and Geran loved his little sister fondly. She was seven by now, and Geran didn't have to feel like a baby-sitter any more.
There wasn't any big discussion that Wolf had to stay at home, though. A full-grown wolf among all those herds of cattle in Algaria would have stirred up lots of trouble. Geran was reasonable enough to understand that. Much to Garion's surprise, Ce'Nedra suggested to take Chretienne with them. "We'll have to take horses anyway to go throughout Sendaria," she said. "Chretienne isn't very young already, and he has not much freedom here on this little island. He deserved a break in the Algarian grassland."
She was right, of course - Garion simply didn't have the time to ride his horse very often. It took forever to go through the mountains until you reached a place suited for a nice little gallop. So Garion agreed happily.
Later, when they reached Algaria and Garion felt the admiring looks of the Algars at his noble horse and the pride with which Ce'Nedra caught those looks, he began to have some second thoughts about Ce'Nedra's motives. However, he couldn't be angry - Chretienne was the clear winner in this little game. The Alorn Council was a rather informal meeting, and even though he couldn't avoid it completely, he hadn't much desire to participate in the serious drinking of the other Alorn monarchs. Often he found an opportunity to sneak off with Hettar, and together they saw the other side of just a few hills. Chretienne enjoyed it very much.
Ce'Nedra spent all the time together with the other Alorn queens and with Adara. Garion soon realised that they had an inexhaustible theme - their children. He often wondered how much one can speak about when a child had its first tooth. But to be honest, he was not unhappy about the attention all paid to his children. Geran was rather tall for his ten years, and Beldaran already promised to be as beautiful as her mother - without having her temper. She reminded Garion more of Ce'Nedra's cousin Xera, who was queen now in the Wood of the Dryads, after her mother Xantha was gone to sleep forever in her tree. However, Beldaran could be very firm when she wanted something - she was Ce'Nedra's daughter, all right.
They didn't really discuss politics in this Alorn Council. The West was peaceful. After three weeks, Garion and his family left for the Vale.

Suddenly, Garion heard Chretienne neighing in the stable, and another horse answering nearby. He knew that voice as well. "That's Horse - Eriond is coming!" he exclaimed in surprise.
Durnik was already on his way towards the door. "I'll help him with Horse."
Garion wondered which help Eriond possibly could need - he always rode without saddle and bridles. And indeed just a moment later the both of them came in. Eriond greeted them all with a smile. Garion hardly could perceive that feeling of somebody's presence which was usually overwhelming when he met the other Gods. He strongly suspected that Eriond concealed it deliberately.
Polgara embraced Eriond fondly. "I see you remember this place," she said in her rich warm voice. "Oh yes," Eriond agreed, "it's the only home I've ever had, and I was happy here."
Following Durnik's invitation, he sat down at the table, refusing to eat or drink, however.
"Poor choice of time for your arrival, perhaps," Garion said to Eriond with a sly wink, "they didn't finish washing dishes yet."
"Garion," Polgara gasped, "do you really think I could send a God into the scullery?!" Garion grinned at her. "Yes, Aunt Pol, actually I do!"
Eriond looked at Garion with an almost sad smile. "There are much more unpleasant things than scrubbing pots, you know."
"Such as what?" Garion demanded.
"Oh, just to make peace in Cthol Murgos," Eriond sighed.
"We all thought it would be very soon after the accords of Perivor," Belgarath stepped in. "Urgit and Zakath seemed to be reasonable, so I can't think of anything what delayed them."
"It was me, probably," Eriond confessed.
Garion looked at him incredulously. "I thought you wanted peace there more than anybody else?" he asked.
"Yes, of course I did," Eriond replied, "but I can't leave the Western Dals in slavery in Cthol Murgos. And it wasn't all that easy to run that down the throats of the Murgos."
Garion looked a little confused. "I thought Urgit was rather sensible the last time I saw him."
"I'm afraid it's not all that simple, Garion," Belgarath answered. "Urgit probably understands Eriond's reasons, but he prefers to stay alive. He can't simply change the very base of Murgo society without risking a coup. And I'm sure we wouldn't want to have another madman on the throne of Cthol Murgos just because somebody couldn't wait for some years." He looked at Eriond. "Was it really that important right now?"
Eriond gave him a very calm and steady look. "Yes, Belgarath, I had to insist. You read the Malloreon Gospels, and I'm rather sure you get my point."
Belgarath considered that for a while, then he nodded. "You mean the Book of Ages, I guess," he replied. Then he quoted from memory, "The other guests have taken their fill, but this great Feast of Life awaiteth still the beloved guest who cometh late, and I say unto all the people that it is he who will choose us. - Yes, you are right. This clearly says that you are the God of the Dals in the first place. But I can't for my life imagine how you managed to convince the Murgos to free their slaves."
Eriond seemed to be slightly embarassed. "It wasn't my idea, my first disciple Pelath came up with it. He knows the Angaraks much better than I do, and he suggested to appeal to their religious feelings. In a certain sense, we revived the old form of the cultus."
Belgarath stared at him in disbelief. "You did what?"
"No real sacrifices," Eriond hurried to explain. "It's sort of a symbolic sacrifice. In the ceremony, they pledge themselves to follow me, to help the poor, old and sick, to learn and to teach. It's only in this sense they give me their hearts. As a symbol for that, they take of their old clothes and put on the white robe of my monks."
"They change clothes right in the temple?" Polgara asked with a raised brow. "I can imagine what Grolim fantasy can make of that"
"You are right, I've heard such rumours," Eriond admitted. His tone was actually slightly defensive. " But I can attend to this later. I need those monks. I need any help I can get to convert the Karands and the Morindim. Their worshipping demons is the greatest danger for our world now."
Belgarath grinned. "To leave all behind and to become a monk is a sacrifice for a Murgo, I'd imagine."
"But they can always send their slaves instead," Eriond grinned back. "The families who free their slaves are freed from the sacrifices, too. And Zakath's threat to leave the occupation army in Cthol Murgos until the last Dal is free played a role as well."
Garion looked at Eriond admiringly. "Yes, Cyradis is a Dal, all right. This Pelath seems to be a gifted politician, too. I wouldn't have thought of that."
"After we had settled that, I went to Nyissa," Eriond continued. "I crashed their economy, after all."
Polgara's eyes grew wide. "You are right, it's based more or less on slave trade. I'm afraid we'll have to expect trouble from Sthiss Tor. Salmissra is always good for a bad surprise."
"Issa promised me to see to it. I met him at Sthiss Tor."
"He's awake?" Garion asked him. Eriond laughed.
"Garion, you saw him at Korim."
"Well, yes," Garion admitted, "but wouldn't the eunuchs be surprised to see him in the palace? As I understand, Salmissra's throne room is the main temple of Issa."
Now Belgarath laughed. "Garion, they wouldn't be surprised even if they saw Torak - and maybe they see him now and then. Most of the time they are so drugged that they see lots of things that aren't really there."
Eriond sighed. "I'm afraid you are right, Belgarath. After the talk with my brother I came here to the Vale."
"That's been a long journey," Durnik remarked. "It's good to have Horse for that, I guess. He has certain abilities."
Eriond shrugged. "Oh, I wasn't in a hurry. It's sort of a vacancy."
"I suppose you didn't consider to stop by in the Wood of the Dryads, though." Belgarath threw in with an impish grin. "I believe it's that time of the year right now."
"Father, that's enough," Polgara said firmly.
"Oh, that." Eriond replied with a smile. "Why, Belgarath, I had a nice stay there. I'm rather fond of the Dryads."
There was a moment of absolute silence after that. Even Belgarath looked startled; Durnik didn't seem to believe what they had heard. Ce'Nedra looked surprised at Eriond, then a wicked smile appeared on her face. Poledra, however, seemed faintly amused while she looked at her daughter.
Of course, it was Polgara who broke that silence. "Eriond, how could you... how could those little monsters do that?! You are a God!"
Ce'Nedra jumped to her feet outrageously, her mouth already open for a sharp reply. Garion would have given half of his kingdom to know what she wanted to reply, but she never told even later. He felt that strange feeling of Eriond's presence rapidly growing, and to his surprise it was not at all embarassed, but more than a little irritated. However, the young God was calm when he rose and turned to Polgara. For some reason, Garion was absolutely sure that his voice was clearly audible in the Stronghold, though.
"Thou art not right, Polgara. The Dryads are even as mine elder brethren have made them. UL found beauty and worthiness in all of them. How canst thou offend creatures my Father hath blessed?"
Garion wouldn't have expected that Eriond could cross Polgara. But as it turned out, he was even less prepared for her reaction. His aunt looked at Eriond incredulously for a moment, then she went deadly pale. Garion hardly believed his ears when she said in a very low voice "Prithee, Lord Eriond, forgive me. I've erred."
Eriond gently touched her arm. "When I was a child, you said once that I was completely innocent and that I thought all in the world was good. But you were wrong, Polgara. You forgot that I had already looked into the half-destroyed mind of Zedar at that time. And even worse, I had looked into Ctuchik's mind. I'm sure not even you could stand what I saw there. No, Polgara, not all in the world is good. But we can find beauty everywhere, and I think that all the beautiful is good."
Ce'Nedra had come closer during their conversation. She looked at Eriond with undisguised delight. Garion was not very much surprised to see almost exactly the same expression on Belgarath's face. "Are you sure it's that simple?" Polgara asked. "I remember a beautiful tree in Nyissa the last time we were there - a tree that hunted."
Eriond didn't have to answer. Quite obviously, he had found an ally.
"Oh no, Aunt Pol," Ce'Nedra protested, "simply you don't understand trees. I'm a Dryad, and the hatred I felt in the mind of this tree was not beautiful. - Monsters, really..." Ce'Nedra turned to Eriond and kissed him.
Garion noticed this only with half of his awareness. He was busy reconsidering the image of his aunt. In principle, he could have known this after he read her book. Polgara was half-wolf, and such was the education she got from Poledra. She could send off the Overlord of the West or the Emperor of Mallorea on a fools errand, but she would obey if her mother told her anything. Polgara believed in authority, and this meant that she could accept authority, too - if she absolutely had to.

Later, when Garion and Ce'Nedra had found their bed in one of the annexes Durnik had built, Ce'Nedra suddenly giggled. Garion didn't sleep yet, too. "What is it, dear?"
"Oh, I just thought about who was the Dryad with whom Eriond... you know what I mean."
Garion sighed. He was absolutely positive that it wasn't their business to discuss this matter. But he knew his wife well enough to realise that she wouldn't stop before she found a satisfactory answer to this question. Despite his will, he remembered their visit in the Wood of the Dryads more than nine years ago, and again he saw how Xbel tenderly touched Eriond's soft blonde curls. Of course, he started speaking before he finished that thought. "Maybe it was Xbel."
"You know, you might be right. It's something Xbel would do. I remember how they met the last time, and now that I think about it, I'm sure he knew what she wanted."
"Of course, he knew, Ce'Nedra. He can look into our minds."
"Do you mind?"
Garion thanked the Gods that she couldn't see him blushing in the dark. "No, not really," he lied. "Do you?"
Ce'Nedra considered that for a moment. "I think he won't see only our faults, but all of our mind. And since he likes me, the overall impression can't be that bad. No, I don't mind."
Garion was startled. That thought hadn't occurred to him. But Ce'Nedra had already returned to his thought. "I see you remember Xbel very well. And I remember you telling her how pretty she is. She couldn't hear enough of it."
Of course, Garion had that coming, but he protested nonetheless. "That's not fair, Ce'Nedra! I had my mind half on other things this evening, but I did notice what was going on. Maybe we should better discuss some kisses?"
"Now that's a very good idea, Your Majesty!"
Garion found it difficult to answer while her fiery lips sealed his mouth firmly.

demons
When Geran woke up, it took him some time to realise where he was. However, he had slept well - and obviously longer, than the girls. He wondered why they didn't wake him. But who understands why girls do something? He liked them; and he had no clue why his parents couldn't distinguish between them. Actually, they were fairly different. Poldana was more active and funny, she always had lots of interesting ideas what to play. Beldaran, of course, preferred Poldene - probably, because she always did what Beldaran wanted.
While he thought about that, the memory of his dream faded. Geran could only remember the face of a young man. He seemed familiar, but Geran couldn't tell his name. Anyway, it was a good dream, unlike some others... He dressed in a hurry and went down into the kitchen. "Good morning!"
The girls whispered and giggled. Polgara answered calmly, "Good morning! I suppose you washed already."
With a sigh, Geran left for the wash place. He didn't misuse soap. To be wet in some places was sufficient, he decided. He looked into the mirror and tried without much success to do something about his tangled red-blonde curls. For a moment he looked in disgust at the freckles on his nose, then he returned into the kitchen. A large steaming plate already waited for him. "Porridge?" It wasn't really a question.
"Yes, porridge," Polgara answered. "What's wrong with porridge?"
"Nothing, I guess," Geran replied, "we eat it every day in Riva."
"Since Eriond ate it, you can eat porridge as well, wouldn't you say?"
Geran looked amazed. "Eriond? I mean - he is a God, does he have to eat at all?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself? He's waiting for you in the stables. He said he wants to talk with you. But you don't seem to be particularly surprised that he is here."
"No, not really. Obviously, it was he whom I saw in my dream." Geran finished his breakfast in almost no time. He found it much better than at home. Of course, he had noticed already yesterday that Aunt Pol was an excellent cook. After he drank his milk, Polgara allowed him to go. "You aren't very experienced with horses, I guess?" she asked him.
"No," Geran confessed. "There's not much room for horseback riding in Riva, anyway."
"See to it that they hear and see you," she advised. "It's never a good idea to sneak on a horse from behind. They react very nervously if you do. - Ah, Geran, when you return we'll have to do something with your hair."
Geran didn't intend to return very soon. Of course, he knew where the stables were. The door was wide open. Geran didn't see anything except the back sides of horses, and so he shouted "Eriond!" - maybe a little louder than was really necessary. Eriond showed up from behind one of the horses, a chestnut with a white spot on one shoulder. "I'm here, Geran. Come on."
Geran sniffed.
"What's wrong, Geran?"
"The air here..." Geran left it hanging.
"Oh, yes, it takes a little getting used to," Eriond admitted. "I rather like that smell."
Horse looked at Geran with his big beautiful eyes.
"He likes you," Eriond said. "Give him that apple, they adore apples. - No, not that way. Just put it on the palm of your hand and give it to him."
Geran watched how horse ate the apple out of his hand. He chuckled when his wet lips touched his palm.
"He didn't bite me," he noted, while he wiped his wet hand on the back of his trousers.
"Of course, not," Eriond replied, "horses don't eat little boys."
They laughed at that for a while.
Then Geran asked, "Eriond, do you really have to eat?"
"No, I don't need to. But sometimes I do it because I like the taste of something - porridge, for that matter. Polgara makes it very good, you've noticed."
"Do you suppose she could teach our cook in Riva how it's done properly?"
Eriond smiled. "Well, it's worth a try." Then he grew serious. "You slept well."
"Yes, I saw you in my dream."
Eriond nodded. "But we'll have to speak about those other dreams now."
Geran looked at him in horror.
"It's necessary, Geran. Don't be afraid, I'll help you. Your nightmares come from some very early memories, and you'll have to understand them. It has to do with Zandramas. You were only two years old then, that's why you can't remember her - not when you are awake."
"I didn't forget her completely", Geran corrected. "I remember a black-hooded figure with stars under her skin."
"Yes," Eriond agreed, "and after your father explained it to you, you didn't fear her any more. However, he can't explain those other things - he doesn't know. When Zandramas chose you as her successor, something happened." He looked in Geran's eyes. "Remember." He almost whispered.
Geran's eyes grew distant, then he began to speak falteringly.
"I felt her fear... she was so terribly afraid... Mordja helped her, and she knew the price... she hoped I can make that she never dies... and that I shut all the doors... no, I can't!"
Eriond took the trembling little boy in his arms. "I know it's terrible, Geran, but you'll have to go through that. What did she mean with 'doors'?"
Geran drew in a deep breath. "The magicians are the doors for the demons... she wanted me to find them all... anybody who knows an incantation... anybody who knows a word of their hideous demon language... and burn them!" Now that he had spelled it out, he calmed down a bit. Eriond hugged him. "Yes, that was her solution to any problem - killing. She was right in one point, though - the demons are a terrible danger. We can't let them into our world. I'm a God, but I'll need your help later. You will be very powerful in a few years, Geran."
Geran stared at him. His blue eyes filled with tears, and his lips trembled. He struggled with every word. "Do I really... have... to burn all those people?"
"No, Geran," Eriond hurried to explain, "you don't. Killing doesn't make anybody better. If you really killed that many people, you would be almost as evil as the three disciples of the King of Hell. We'll have to find another way. It won't be easy, especially in Morindland."
"Why do the Morindim raise demons, if they are so dangerous?"
"Because they fear demons."
"Eriond, that doesn't make sense!" Geran protested.
"They raise demons to protect themselves from the demons of their neighbors," Eriond explained.
"But they could stop it all together," Geran suggested.
"Yes, but they don't trust each other. They need somebody's protection for the case when a clan returns to demon worshiping, as it happened in Karanda. I will propose them my protection."
"That's good, Eriond. But what can I do?"
Eriond sighed. "I'm afraid the demons won't simply let it slide. If some demons come here, we'll have to fight. And if a Demon Lord comes... you need very much power to fight a Demon Lord."
"Can't you?" Geran asked.
"I'm not allowed," Eriond answered. "There are some rules even for Gods, Geran. Torak broke those rules, and the consequences were horrible. You know of the cracking of the world."
"Yes," Geran nodded, "I read it in grandfather's book."
"Only now the pain from that wounding of the earth diminished to some extent, and I don't think we'd want another such catastrophe. - But now let's speak about something else. In Horse's fur is a lot of dust. Could you help me with him? I'll show you how."

Ce'Nedra and Garion appeared in Pol's kitchen very late. "Good morning!"
Polgara laughed. "The morning is almost over by now. You're hungry, I guess?"
"Oh yes, like a wolf," Garion agreed.
When they sat eating, the door opened and Geran came in. Garion held his breath, and Ce'Nedra gasped. Polgara laughed and came to him. "Oh no, my boy, don't come in any further. You'll need a bath now, and I'll give you other clothes."
"Why that, Aunt Pol?"
Polgara smiled. "You smell like a little horse, that's why."
"I helped Eriond with Horse."
"That explains it, I'd imagine. We can wash your hair as well."
Geran sighed. Life was definitely not fair today.
"That's the Aunt Pol I remember," Garion remarked smiling when they left.
When Ce'Nedra and Garion had finished eating, Eriond came in. "Good morning!" he said. "Garion, what do you think about a nice little ride? Horse wants to run."
"I can't say no," Garion replied with a grin, "Chretienne wouldn't forgive me if I did."
"I thought you would see it that way. Durnik has already saddled your horse."
"And what about me?" Ce'Nedra pouted, "nobody even asked what I want."
Eriond looked at her seriously. "Please, speak with Geran after his bath, Ce'Nedra. We had a long talk about the memories causing his nightmares. They won't bother him any more. He will tell you all. I helped him as much as I could, and he is a brave little boy, but it was very hard for him. He needs your love now."
Ce'Nedra nodded. "I think I'll go to him right now. Washing hair isn't exactly his favorite pastime."

They rode at a trot when they left. About a mile north of the cottage they reached a seemingly endless meadow, and let their horses gallop. Of course, Chretienne tried to go ahead. Garion almost stood in his stirrups to make it easier for Chretienne, but he had no chance against the ever-young Horse. Garion felt the rhythmic motion of his horse under him while he almost flew over the meadow and he felt the wind in his face. It was a fine day and the air was full of the smells of summer. Garion found that life probably was worth the trouble.
When they reached the edge of the trees, they decided to rest. At a little creek they swung down and Garion loosened the saddle-girth. Chretienne looked slightly offended. He didn't like it to be second best.
"They'll find water and grass, Garion, we'll have to talk." They sat into the grass.
"Is Geran in any danger?" Garion demanded bluntly.
"Not directly, no, at least not now. But he is the hereditary Guardian of the Orb. You heard about the plans of the King of Hell from Mordja's words at Korim. Now that the Orb has destroyed the Sardion, and adsorbed its power, the demons will concentrate on it. With the Orb, the King of Hell can break his chains and get out of confinement in Hell. That's why we have to put a stop to demon worshipping, Garion. Demons can come into our world only when summoned. But I don't think the demons will simply let alone their worshippers. If they manage to bring an army here, we'll have to fight them. We must try to avoid this, because it would be a terrible fight. However, I'm afraid it's inevitable."
Garion remembered what they had seen in Karanda. "Eriond, we can't fight a demon army."
"Not alone, no. But the monsters live here as well, it's not only our world. If we restore the peace of UL, we will fight together. Think of a Hrulgin cavalry, Garion, think of Trolls, Algroths, Minotaurs, Eldrakyn fighting on our side. Against a whole world, the demons can't win."
"But is it possible? The monsters went all mad from the cracking of the earth."
"Do you really think the Orb restored only Torak's destroyed face? It began to heal the earth, too. It will take much time, worlds don't heal very fast. But the pain of the wounded earth is almost gone. Ask the Orb, it's a stone itself and can feel that pain."
"Maybe," Garion said doubtfully, "but it will take some time. How do we know that the demons won't attack tomorrow?"
"To some extent I can see the future, Garion. And you will certainly remember your old friend - the Voice which used to be in your head."
"Oh yes," Garion replied sourly, "he was much of a help. Every time I asked him something he explained that the rules of the game don't allow him to answer."
"This has changed by now. It's not a game any more, Garion, this is serious."
Garion had found it serious enough then.
"Unfortunately, he knows only what he plans with our universe," Eriond admitted, "he doesn't know anything about the other one - Hell. But he showed me a potential source of information. The Morindim are in contact with demons in their dreams, and the Dals have collected such dreams since long in their search for all sorts of prophecies. They simply dismissed them because the Children of Light and Dark are never mentioned. My second disciple Senji is working on it now." Eriond sighed. "He told me that the Mrin Codex is a very sensible report in comparison with those dreams." Eriond looked at Garion with compassion. "There's a duel that has to happen. The demons want the Orb, and there's something we want back - Cthrek Goru. The sword of my brother came to the demons only through the treason of the Dark Prophecy. It wasn't forged to serve them."
Garion laughed sarcastically. "I know what it was forged for."
Eriond didn't like it, but he had to show him the truth - the part he could stand, anyway. "You are wrong, Garion. Torak didn't want to kill you. Remember."
And Garion remembered how he faltered and fell during their fight at Cthol Mishrak. Again he heard Torak almost pleading "I have no wish to kill thee, boy. Yield, and I will spare thy life." And again he heard him almost sobbing "Thou must. Thou art helpless before me. Submit to me."
"You are right," Garion said regretfully. "He didn't want to kill me, but I had to kill him."
"You were born for that, Garion. I don't really approve of killing, but in this case there simply was no choice. Torak regarded this world as his, and he forged his sword to defend it from anybody, be it God or Demon. He wasn't allowed to do so, but he did. And when he learned about an even more powerful object - well, you know the rest of the story. You did right, but you always felt guilty for it. Now you understand, why. - Don't worry too much, Garion. Soon you will be not alone in guard of the Orb. Geran was the Child of Dark, and he was given an enormous potential. It couldn't be taken away after the Choice, and it will show up in a few years."
Garion stared at him. "Isn't that an evil power?"
Eriond smiled. "There is no such thing as 'evil power', Garion. Power is power, you have to decide what you'll use it for. However, Geran will need lessons as soon as his talent appears. He will have to come to the Vale then."
"Will Belgarath teach him?"
"No, my brother Aldur agreed to take care of it. I told you this is serious, Garion. Mordja is absolutely evil - and he is not insane."
"I thought I killed him," Garion wondered.
"And why didn't you find Cthrek Goru there? No, Garion, you can't kill a demon. If you destroy the body he uses in our world, his spirit returns to Hell. And he took the sword with him. - Now do you suppose we should ride back?"
They didn't gallop this time. The sun was high, and it was very warm. Garion was deep in his thoughts. He was proud that Geran would be taught by Aldur himself, but... Nonetheless, he didn't feel too much fear. There was a fragrance in the air that seemed to dissipate his worries and to sharpen his senses for all the beauty around him. A low bush of little lavender flowers got his attention. He created Adara's Rose not far from here, all right.
"They are very fertile," Eriond answered to his thought, "they reached already northern Drasnia. Soon they'll start to occupy Morindland. Obviously, you made them for a cold climate. They grow much bigger there."
"It was a rather cold spring day when I created them," Garion agreed.

Pol and Durnik were obviously disappointed that Eriond wanted to leave immediately after their return to the cottage. Of course, it didn't make very much sense for the God to stay for dinner.
"I'll be here often in the next time," Eriond promised. "I'll have to consult the old Gorim in Ulgoland, and I'll have to consult my brothers in that cave in the mountains. I must know all about the monsters, and all about this world they made for me. I don't want to make too many mistakes - I've got only this one world." As an afterthought, he added, "And when I start to convert the Alorns, I'd probably better start here, with the Algars. I am the Horse God, after all." Something clicked together in their heads. They all remembered Hettar's reports from Errand's first riding lessons. The word "unnatural" was by far the most frequently used in them. Eriond embraced Polgara. There was a tear or two in her eyes, and Garion realised that they still loved each other - only in a slightly different way.
They all stood closely together, when Eriond left. Ce'Nedra hugged her little boy. She knew she had to hurry as long as she was a half inch taller. Beldaran held Geran's hand.
When he was almost out of sight, Eriond turned to them and waved. Garion couldn't see his smile, but he felt it. Then Eriond and Horse shimmered and disappeared.
The news Garion had learned today wasn't really very good. But Eriond's optimism seemed to be infectious. Garion actually began to believe that things could turn out well eventually - unless they were not lucky.

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