Belgarath the Sorcerer. David Eddings
8
He came in from the west, and at first we thought he was a blind man because he had a strip of cloth covering his eyes. I could tell by his clothes that he was an Ulgo. I’d seen those hooded leather smocks in Prolgu. I was a little surprised to see him, since as far as I knew, the Ulgos had been exterminated. I went out to greet him in his own language. ‘Yad ho, groja UL,’ I said. ‘Vad mar ishum.’
He winced. ‘That is not necessary,’ he told me in normal speech. ‘The Gorim has taught me your tongue.’
‘That’s fortunate,’ I replied a bit ruefully. ‘I don’t speak Ulgo very well.’
‘Yes,’ he said with a slight smile, ‘I noticed that. You would be Belgarath.’
‘It wasn’t entirely my idea. Are you having trouble with your eyes?’
‘The light hurts them.’
I looked up at the cloudy sky. ‘It’s not really all that bright today.’
‘Not to you, perhaps,’ he said. ‘To me it is blinding. Can you take me to your Master? I have some information for him from Holy Gorim.’
‘Of course.’ I agreed quickly. Maybe now we’d find out what was really going on in Ulgoland. ‘It’s this way,’ I told him, pointing at the Master’s tower. I did it automatically, I suppose. He probably couldn’t see the gesture with his eyes covered. Then again, maybe he could; he seemed to have no trouble following me.
Belsambar was with our Master. Our mystic Angarak brother had grown increasingly despondent in the years since the cracking of the world. I’d tried to raise his spirits from time to time without much success, and I’d finally suggested to our Master that perhaps it might be a good idea if he were to try cheering Belsambar up.
Aldur greeted the Ulgo courteously. ‘Yad ho, groja UL.’ His accent was much better than mine.
‘Yad ho, groja UL,’ the Ulgo responded. ‘I have news from Gorim of Holy Ulgo.’
‘I hunger for the words of your Gorim,’ Aldur replied. Ulgos tend to be a stiff and formal people, and Aldur knew all the correct responses. ‘How fares it with my father’s servants?’
‘Not well, Divine Aldur. A catastrophe has befallen us. The wounding of the earth maddened the monsters with whom we had lived in peace since the first Gorim led us to Prolgu.’
‘So that’s what it was all about!’ I exclaimed.
He gave me a slightly puzzled look.
‘I went through Holy Ulgo a few years back, and the Hrulgin and Algroths were trying to hunt me down. Prolgu was deserted, and the she-dragon was sort of hovering over it. What happened, friend?’
He shrugged. ‘I didn’t see it personally,’ he replied. ‘It was before my time, but I’ve spoken with our elders, and they told me that the wounding of the earth shook the very mountains around us. At first they thought that it was no more than an ordinary earthquake, but Holy UL spoke with the old Gorim and told him of what had happened at Korim. It was not long after that that the monsters attacked the people of Ulgo. The old Gorim was slain by an Eldrak – a fearsome creature.’
Aldur sighed. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘My brothers and I erred when we made the Eldrakyn. I sorrow for the death of your Gorim.’ It was a polite thing to say, but I don’t think my Master had been any fonder of the previous Gorim than I’d been.
‘I didn’t know him, Divine One,’ the Ulgo admitted with a slight shrug. ‘Our elders have told me that the earth had not yet finished her trembling when the monsters fell on us. Even the Dryads turned savage. The people of Ulgo retreated to Prolgu, thinking that the monsters would fear the holy place, but it was not so. They pursued the people even there. Then it was that UL revealed the caverns to us.’
‘The caverns,’ Aldur mused. ‘Of course. Long have I wondered at the import of those caverns beneath Prolgu. Now it is clear to me. I have also wondered why I could not reach my father’s mind when Belgarath told me of his strange adventures in the mountains of Ulgo. I was misdirecting my thought if he is in the caverns with thy people. I marvel at his wisdom. Are the servants of UL safe in those caves?’
‘Completely, Divine One. Holy UL placed an enchantment upon the caves, and the monsters feared to follow us there. We have lived in those caverns since the earth was wounded.’
‘Your brother’s curse reaches very far, Master,’ Belsambar said somberly. ‘Even the pious people of Ulgo have felt its sting.’
Aldur’s face grew stern. ‘It is even as thou hast said, my son,’ he agreed. ‘My brother Torak hath much to answer for.’
‘And his people as well, Master,’ Belsambar added. ‘All of Angarak shares his guilt.’
I wish I’d paid closer attention to what Belsambar was saying, and to that lost look in his eyes. It was too easy to shrug off Belsambar’s moods. He was a thoroughgoing mystic, and they’re always a little strange.
‘My Gorim has commanded me to advise thee of what has come to pass in Holy Ulgo,’ our visitor continued. ‘He asked me to entreat thee to convey this news to thy brethren. Holy Ulgo is no longer safe for mankind. The monsters rage through the mountains and forests, slaying and devouring all who come into their sight. The people of Ulgo no longer venture to the surface, but remain in our caverns where we are safe.’
‘That’s why the light hurts your eyes, isn’t it?’ I asked him. ‘You were born and reared in almost total darkness.’
‘It is even as you say, Ancient Belgarath,’ he replied. That was the first time anybody ever called me that. I found it just slightly offensive. I wasn’t really all that old – was I?
‘Thus have I completed the task laid upon me by my Gorim,’ the Ulgo said to my Master. ‘Now I beg thy permission to return to the caves of my people, for truly, the light of this upper world is agony to me. Mine eyes, like twin knives, do stab into my very brain.’ He was a poetic rascal; I’ll give him that.
‘Abide yet a time,’ Aldur told him. ‘Night will soon descend, and then mayest thou begin thy journey in what to us would be darkness, but which to thee will be only a more gentle light.’
‘I shall be guided by thee, Divine One,’ the Ulgo agreed.
We fed him – that’s to say that the twins fed him. Beltira and Belkira have an obsessive compulsion to feed things.
Anyway, our Ulgo left after the sun went down, and he was a half-hour gone before I realized that he hadn’t even told us his name.
Belsambar and I said goodnight to the Master, and I walked my Angarak brother back to his tower in the gathering twilight. ‘It goes on and on, Belgarath,’ he said to me in a melancholy voice.
‘What does?’
‘The corruption of the world. It’ll never be the same as it was before.’
‘It never has been, Belsambar. The world changes every day. Somebody dies every night, and somebody’s born every morning. It’s always been that way.’
‘Those are natural changes, Belgarath. What’s happening now is evil, not natural.’
‘I think you’re exaggerating, brother. We’ve hit bad stretches before. The onset of winter isn’t all that pleasant when you get right down to it, but spring comes back eventually.’
‘I don’t think it will this time. This particular winter’s just going to get worse as the years roll by.’ A mystic will turn anything into a metaphor. Metaphors are useful sometimes, but they can be carried too far.
‘Winter always passes, Belsambar,’ I told him. ‘If we weren’t sure of that, there wouldn’t really be much point to going on with life, would there?’