Crossover Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Journey to the City of Endless Night ❯ Chapter Seventy Two ( Chapter 72 )

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I'd like to dedicate this chapter to knittingknots

 

Chapter Seventy Two

 

Kagome accepted a pair of tattered socks, a needle, and some thread from Inuyasha. She had asked Polgara if she could help her with anything while they waited for the others to come back from Mal Yaska, and the sorceress had suggested mending some socks. She smiled and said, “Thank-you.”

 

Inuyasha sat down next to her. He smiled shyly in return and shifted uncomfortably. He replied softly, “You're welcome.”

 

Kagome shook her head, giggling softly. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You're so cute when you're shy, Inuyasha.”

 

“Feh.” Inuyasha blushed and his ears twitched. They drooped slightly and his lips drew into a full pout. The hanyou looked down and crossed his arms. He hissed, “Not in front of everyone, wench. It's embarrassing.”

 

Setting her mending aside, a frown crossed Kagome's face. Something was bothering her mate. He hadn't acted so aloof in so long that it concerned her. She asked, “Is everything alright, Inuyasha?”

 

“I'm fine,” Inuyasha snapped.

 

As she wound the thread tighter around its spool, Kagome bit her lip. Maybe Shippo's reversal had hurt him more than she thought. She knew that her hanyou covered his emotional bruises with gruffness. Kagome also knew that if she didn't get him to open up about it, Inuyasha would only let it fester. She reached out and rested a hand on top of one of his. “Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?”

 

Inuyasha snatched his hand back and stomped away. “I said I'm fine.”

 

Kagome sighed and followed the agitated half-demon. He stopped in a small grove near camp and began to pace. She hesitated, not wanting to drive him further away. Kagome felt isolated from her mate, something she hadn't felt since she had helped him recover from the Grolim attack.

 

She asked softly, “Inuyasha?”

 

The fuming hanyou turned, facing her. There was a frustrated scowl on his face and he threw his hands up into the air. “I don't get it. I just don't get it.”

 

“What, Inuyasha? What don't you get?” Kagome stepped closer, but kept her distance so not to corner him.

 

“I've done everything for that runt, so why does he keep talking shit about me?” Inuyasha sighed and began to pace again. “What does he want from me?”

 

“I don't know. I wish I did.”

 

“Didn't I avenge his father for him and take him in? Shouldn't that count for something?” Inuyasha rubbed his face and growled softly. “Instead, it seems like everyday all that we do is fight with each other.”

 

“I know,” Kagome whispered. It was obvious that he had to get this off of his chest. Despite all of his denials, it was also obvious that the little boy's insults had hurt Inuyasha. She realized that they always had. “I wish he wouldn't pick fights with you, too.”

 

“I just get so frustrated. I make sure he's fed. I protect him. I make sure he has clothes to wear. It just never seems to be enough for him.” A weary expression settled over the hanyou's features. “I just didn't---I don't---want him to grow up the way I did---alone.”

 

Kagome moved closer, still giving him some space. “And he's not growing up alone.”

 

“It just seems that no matter what I do, all he can do is bitch.” The exasperated hanyou took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He bit his lip, his fangs peeking at the corners of his mouth. Inuyasha's ears fell, making him appear defeated. He whispered softly, “Can't he see that I'm doing the best that I can?”

 

“I know you are, Inuyasha.” Kagome looked down, sighing. “That's all anyone can expect you to do.”

 

“It doesn't seem to be good enough.” Inuyasha stopped, staring up at the trees. He said, a frustrated edge to his voice, “I just wish he could see that I'm not his enemy.”

 

“I know you're not. I think, deep down, he does, too.”

 

Silence settled over them, all except for the sounds of the breeze rustling the trees. Kagome wondered if Inuyasha had finished his outburst. If anything, she felt relieved that he had done so. Most of all, she found it to be encouraging. He had opened up to her all on his own---all without her having to pry it out of him or through picking a fight. Kagome felt even closer to her mate by his admissions, and for that, she was grateful.

 

“It sure doesn't seem like it,” Inuyasha's fatigued whisper reached her ears.

 

“He does. I know he does. You'll see, our son will come around.”

 

Inuyasha turned his back. His shoulders sagged slightly, and he shook his head. He said, his voice weary, “Maybe I'm not the best person to be his father. I never knew mine after all.”

 

Kagome joined him and hugged him from behind. “You're wrong, Inuyasha. You're the best father he could ever have.”

 

“I don't know about that.” Inuyasha turned around in her embrace. “Most of his bad behavior is my fault.”

 

Wrinkling her nose, Kagome asked, “How?”

 

“I fought with him all the time instead of being patient.” His ears drooped and his expression became tired. “But I didn't know how to help him.”

 

Kagome hugged him. She sighed and rested her head onto his chest. His steady heartbeat sounded in her ears. “You've helped him more than you'll ever know.”

 

Inuyasha continued on as if she hadn't said anything, “I let the brat get on my nerves when I shouldn't have.” He pulled away and rubbed his face. “Maybe if I hadn't gotten so mad all the time he wouldn't be acting like this now.”

 

Kagome reached out and gently rubbed his shoulder. “Inuyasha, it's not your fault. You did the best you could.”

 

He snorted softly and shook his head. “I don't know about that. The brat's acting like this because it's the way we've settled everything in the past, and he doesn't know any other way.” Inuyasha took a deep breath. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised.”

 

“If it's anyone's fault that he's behaved this way, it's mine.” Kagome looked down, her hair falling into her face.

 

Inuyasha gently tilted her head up, his eyes searching hers. “What do you mean, Kagome?”

 

“I mean it's my fault, not yours,” Kagome said. She held a hand over her eyes and sighed. Before Inuyasha could interrupt, she said, “I'm the one that coddled him for all these years. He's acting like a spoiled brat because I've let him.”

 

“Kagome---”

 

“No. It's true.” She turned her back towards him. “I just felt so bad for him. His parents were killed when he was so young. My sympathy for him allowed him to get away with a lot of things that he shouldn't have.”

 

“Don't you blame yourself for his bad behavior,” Inuyasha said, his tone gruff. “It's not your fault that he bitches about me.”

 

Kagome turned around. Inuyasha's expression was grim. She said, “But it is. Shippo would do something to upset you and I'd punish you for it. I should have seen it sooner.”

 

“And I already said that I shouldn't have gotten so angry with the whelp.” Inuyasha let a frustrated growl escape. “Damn it, Kagome, it's not your fault. It's mine.”

 

“And I said that it's not your fault, so don't you blame yourself,” Kagome said, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. “I am the one that was too soft. I'm the one who spoiled him, not you.”

 

“Damn it, wench. I'm the one that always fought with him, not you.” Inuyasha's ears flattened to his head. “So don't you blame yourself.”

 

Kagome sighed and closed her eyes. “We're going in circles. Let's agree not to blame ourselves for the past and do what we can for him now.”

 

Inuyasha took a deep breath. “Alright. But only if you'll agree to something else.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Let's agree to not let the runt pull those tricks on us anymore, okay?”

 

“I agree.” Kagome hugged him again. She said, “And, even though he's said such awful things about you lately, I know that he looks up to you and is very proud to have you as his father.”

 

Inuyasha chuckled sardonically, the sound rumbling in her ears. “He sure has a strange way of showing it. Are we sure we want the jackass being his teacher? He'll have the brat calling me half-breed in no time.”

 

Kagome lifted her head. She rested a hand on his cheek. “Don't be so mean.” She looked down. “I think Shippo's just jealous and he's having a hard time. He'll get used to having a family again, and you'll see, he'll realize how lucky he is to be our son.”

 

“And you can be damn sure that if he doesn't that Sesshomaru will beat gratitude into him.” Inuyasha smiled wryly. “I hope you're right about the boy.”

 

“I know I am.” Kagome kissed his cheek. “It'll take some time, but I think Shippo will finally realize that there's never been a reason for the two of you to compete over me. I love both of you the same amount.”

 

“I hope so.” Inuyasha rested his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I know I'm tired of fighting with him over you.” His arms encircled her and he pulled her close. “You're my mate---mine---and he'll just have to deal.”

 

Kagome laughed softly. “Yes, he will.” She nuzzled her nose under his chin. “I'm proud of you, Inuyasha.”

 

“For what?”

 

“You've really been a good father to him since we found him back. You might not think so, but you've been very patient with him.” She hugged him tight, resting her head on his shoulder.

 

“If you say so, wench.” Inuyasha tilted her chin up with a clawed hand. He gently kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers. He broke it off and looked up to the sky. A frown crossed his face.

 

Kagome shook her head. “Don't worry. We can sneak off after supper.”

 

Inuyasha's ears rose up and his brows furrowed. “Feh.”

 

“I keep track, you know. I talked to your brother about it yesterday, after you talked to him about Shippo. He agreed with me that we should keep it private.” Kagome winked. “Besides, it's my chance to have a human you all to myself.”

 

A blush dusted his cheeks and he twitched his ears. “I'll tell Garion, though. Hiding it last time didn't work out so well, if you'll recall.”

 

“Alright.” She kissed his cheek. “You're still cute when you're shy.”

 

“Feh.” He nuzzled his mark. “Let's go back. I'm hungry.”

 

Kagome giggled. “Alright. I guess I know your priorities.”

 

Just as they returned, Ce'Nedra asked, “Belgarath, will you tell us a dinner time story?” She fluttered her eyelashes at the old sorcerer. “Please?”

 

Belgarath drank deeply from his tankard. He asked, “Alright. Which one?”

 

“How about the Battle of Vo Mimbre?”

 

“Good choice. A bit over-dramatic at times, but important none the less.” The old man stood, brushing his patched and stained tunic off. “I'll start a bit before the actual battle.” He winked, a mischievous smile crossing his face. “Some of our audience hasn't heard it, after all.”

 

Kagome and Inuyasha sat down not far from the fire, both accepting bowls of stew from Polgara. She stirred hers, watching the old sorcerer with curiosity. Perhaps it would be entertaining. Kagome took a bite, savoring the tender meat. Glancing towards Inuyasha, she could tell he had no interest in the story, if the scowl on his face indicated anything.

 

Belgarath drew himself up, a serious look crossing his weathered face. He pulled his mantle about his shoulders and began, his tone grave, “The Battle of Vo Mimbre is one of the crucial turning points in the epic struggle between East and West. As all men know, the Rivan King, Guardian of the Orb of Aldur, protected the Twelve Kingdoms of the West from the dark power of maimed Torak.” The old sorcerer paused, pacing. He stopped and turned, pinning his audience with a sharp glare. Belgarath continued, his voice hushed, “How unfortunate, then, that in 4002, that Gorek the Wise and his family was brutally assassinated by the Serpent Queen, Salmissra of Nyissa! Who would safeguard the West?”

 

Slowly eating her stew, Kagome focused her attention on the sorcerer's story. He had an engaging manner in which he told it, and she couldn't help but find herself enthralled. Besides, she knew that they had quite some time before sundown, so she wasn't in a rush herself. The story seemed to be an important one, and she couldn't help but be interested in learning a bit of this world's history.

 

Inuyasha leaned over, whispering into her ear, “I don't want to stay too long, so don't get too caught up in the story.”

 

“Don't worry,” Kagome whispered back. “We've got a good hour and a half before sundown.”

 

“It was your idea to sneak off, wench,” Inuyasha hissed.

 

“And we will,” Kagome replied. “After the story. Don't be so impatient, my hanyou.”

 

“Feh.” Inuyasha snorted, turning his attention to his meal.

 

The old man crouched low and said as one might confide a secret, “However, do not despair: some say that a fruit of the Rivan line escaped, and that it still remains unbroken. Some say the Chosen One, the long awaited Godslayer foretold by Prophecy will emerge, but that hope grows dimmer with each passing century.”

 

At this, Kagome glanced towards Garion, her eyes meeting his crystal blue. Immense power emanated from their depths in waves, making them appear a deep sapphire. There was such gravity on his plain face, and his posture became rigid. This was not the kind and courteous Garion she had come to know. This was the Godslayer the story spoke about, imposing and puissant.

 

Belgarath's eyes became grim and his delivery stern, “With his arch-foe removed, Torak seized upon his chance to reclaim the Orb, the stone he had named Cthrag Yaska. Nearly nine hundred years since the tragic massacre in Riva, in 4865, the Dark God amassed his Host and marched into the exposed West.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Kagome noticed that Inuyasha sat forward, listening attentively. It seemed that she wasn't the only one captured by the sorcerer's storytelling. She shook her head. No matter how much her hanyou had complained, it was obvious that he wanted to hear the story. Kagome ate some more stew, turning her full attention back on Belgarath.

 

The old sorcerer moved away from the fire. With dusk approaching, eerie shadows cast upon his rugged face. He boomed in a great voice, “The Accursed One gathered his Angaraks, Malloreon and Murgo, Nadrak and Thull, and invaded the West. The first kingdom to succumb to the knives of his Grolim Priests was unfortunate Drasnia.” A look of sorrow and regret crossed Belgarath's face. He shook his head, continuing in subdued tones, “The descendants of Dras Bull-Neck's nation fell like sheafs of wheat at the harvest, and their blood spilt out onto the ground in holocaust. The West trembled at the horrors Torak unleashed upon them.”

 

Slowly eating her meal, Kagome listened with rapt attention. She found it fascinating, and the more she heard, the more she wanted to know. Next to her, Inuyasha sat, his back straight and his ears erect. If Kagome hadn't been captivated herself, she might have teased him. She realized that the others around the campfire were just as engaged in the tale the old sorcerer wove. It seemed that with his very words, Belgarath had placed a spell upon his audience.

 

The longer the sorcerer paused, the more Kagome wanted him to continue. There was a soft hush over the audience, the only sounds being that of silverware clinking against dinnerware and the crackling of the fire. It seemed with his silence, the old sorcerer was building the tension and it became thick as everyone anticipated his next words.

 

After the lengthy pause, the old man said crisply, “Next, the Dark God turned his attention towards Algaria. There he found not a city, as the descendants of Algar Fleet-foot are nomads. There was only one thing to assail, and that was the man-made mountain called the Stronghold.” Belgarath made small, waving gestures to punctuate his words as he pressed onwards with his epic tale. “For eight long years, Torak lay siege to the home of the Horse People, but did not succeed. A small glimmer of hope blossomed in the hearts of the Western People. In his disgust, the maimed God of Angarak turned his attentions towards the Arendish city of Vo Mimbre.”

 

Kagome gasped softly. Having stayed at the immense fortress, she was amazed that anyone, even a God, would try to assault it. It just seemed like such an impenetrable place that any attempt would be futile and a colossal waste of lives. She ate some more stew, stirring what was left as she listened.

 

Inuyasha shifted next to her, his expression still rapt. He had long ago finished his stew, setting the dish aside. The hanyou sat cross legged. His arms were also crossed, hidden in the sleeves of his fire rat robe. Inuyasha's ears twitched in concentration, and he sat forward slightly. Kagome smiled to herself. It seemed that Inuyasha had fallen under Belgarath's spell completely.

 

Pacing with his hands behind his back, Belgarath said, “Upon reaching the golden walls of Vo Mimbre, Torak and his Host began to lay siege to it as they had the Stronghold.” He stopped and stood in front of the fire. With each direction, the old sorcerer gestured to indicate the Angarak battle positions. “He stationed King Ad Rak Cthoros of Cthol Murgos and his people on the left flank of the Riven Arend, east of the city. To the north, the Malloreon Horde under the Accursed Kal-Torak himself held the center before the gates of the city. In the west, the Nadraks under Yar Lek Thun and the Thulls under Gethel Mardu held the right flank, encircling the city even again to the river which flowed out west of the city walls.”

 

Licking her spoon clean, Kagome imagined the vast army assaulting the heavily fortified, walled city. In her mind's eye, she could see the sunlight glint off the city's golden brick. She envisioned that it would appear much like a gilded island amongst the multitudes of the Angarak Host. The images the old man stirred in her mind reminded her of an epic movie.

 

Those around the fire listened in silence. Ce'Nedra sat with her legs tucked to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Next to her sat Garion, his expression still grim. His attention was focused wholly on Belgarath. Durnik sat not far away, his eyes wide with awe. Polgara remained near the stew pot, a small ale flask next to her. Her white lock took on a ruddy cast, and her expression was stern. There was an amused expression on Poledra's face, her golden eyes mischievous. All eyes, however, were on Belgarath as he told his story.

 

Belgarath continued in an even tone, “Now, rather than issue forth from his black pavilion, Torak chose his disciple, Zedar, formally Belzedar, disciple of Aldur, to engineer the battle. Zedar had the Thulls assault the walls with siege engines.” The old sorcerer shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping. “Unfortunately, for them, the Asturian bowmen, known for their prowess in archery, devastated their ranks. The walls of Vo Mimbre would not fall the first two days.”

 

Kagome shuddered to imagine the thunderous sound of the rocks hitting the city walls. She could almost hear the whistling of the arrows and the sickening sound that followed when they struck their targets. Being an archer herself, albeit somewhat amateurish, Kagome could picture their fluid motions as they loosed arrows.

 

Inuyasha moved next to her, adjusting his position. Looking towards him, she had to suppress a smile at his erect ears. He rested his elbow on a knee and cupped his chin in his hand. Judging by his spellbound expression, they wouldn't be sneaking off anytime soon. Thankfully, they still had plenty of time before sundown.

 

The old man spoke clearly, “On the third day, a horn was heard to blow from the forest to the north of the city. Another could be heard to answer from the hills to the east. Yet another trumpet blast came forth from within the city itself.”

 

Amazingly, with each mention of a horn blast, the old man perfectly mimicked its sound. It had the same brassy tenor, as if the audience was at the battle itself. Belgarath dropped his voice low and waved an arm in front of himself as he continued, “Silence followed, and anxiety besieged the Angaraks. The Murgos fell pray to doubt, the Nadraks trembled, and fear filled the Thulls.”

 

There was another drawn out pause, creating tension within the audience. Kagome pushed her bowl aside, finally finished with dinner. She leaned forward, eager to hear the sorcerer's next words. She realized that she had been holding her breath, and as the delay continued she slowly exhaled.

 

The old man drew himself up to his full height and said, “The significance of the horns was unknown. In their time of need, the dread Kings of Angarak sought counsel with Kal Torak. He refused and remained within his iron pavilion.” He shook his head and sighed. Belgarath rubbed his short white beard, and his eyes narrowed in thought. “Without his guidance, what would they do? To rally their forces, the Malloreons beat their spears upon their shields.”

 

Kagome visualized the Malloreons actions as desperate. Their spears must have sounded hollow to even their ears, and the ranks of the Angarak forces must have been nervous. She pictured them stamping their feet to relieve tension and glancing around to locate the hidden horns.

 

“The horns sounded yet again, and again there was no movement.” The old man raised his voice, pressing forward with gusto, “Confusion overtook the Angaraks. The Nadraks sent scouts to the north, but alas, all of their horses returned riderless. The forest remained silent as to their fate. The Murgos too sent scouts eastward, but they haplessly rode to their untimely deaths in the hills. Despair began to settle in the hearts of the Angarak Host.”

 

Shivering, Kagome hugged herself. She felt Inuyasha's fire rat settle about her shoulders and his arm encircle her waist. Glancing up, she saw that he had focused his attention back on the story. She mumbled, “Thank-you.”

 

Inuyasha snorted in reply.

 

“It is said that Zedar used sorcery to discern the meaning behind the sounding horns. He took on the form of a raven, spiraling high above the battlefield at great heights. Nevertheless, the reasoning behind the trumpet blasts eluded him.” Belgarath effortlessly imitated the hollow caw of the raven. It had an element of frustration, and it seemed that there was a reply in the distance. “As he continued east, a great snowy owl swooped down upon him, and her cruel talons wounded him terribly.” The old sorcerer then impersonated the furious screech of the snowy owl. He said, “In desperation, Zedar escaped back to the safety of the pavilion.”

 

In her imagination, Kagome saw the black bird circle high in the blue sky. She could also see the burst of feathers as the snowy owl attacked. His escape flight would have been jarred after such an assault. The old sorcerer breathed life into his words, making his story feel like the present instead of the past.

 

“Again, Zedar issued forth from the Angarak Host---this time as a great stag. He ventured into the forest in the north, but still could find no answer behind the brazen horns.” This time, the old sorcerer mimicked the sound of a snarling angry wolf, foreshadowing Zedar's next opponent. “A grizzled and old grey wolf launched a vicious attack, and his sharp fangs tore Zedar's flesh. He could only turn back the way whence he came---barely escaping the great wolf's cruel jaws.”

 

Kagome shrank against Inuyasha at Belgarath's wolf impersonation. She wrapped her arms tightly around him. It was so realistic that she could see the visage of the angry wolf. She could hear the cry of the stag as the wolf's terrible fangs bit it and see it scramble to get away.

 

“Once more, the horns blew. A horn blast came from the north, another replied from the east, and yet another trumpet's triumphant blast came from within the city. Fear swelled within the breasts of the Angarak forces as confusion blanketed them.” Belgarath paused, then gasped. A look of awe crossed his creased features. He said, his voice booming, “But behold! More trumpets blared this time from the west. Their sound was so grand, revealing a great many.”

 

The old sorcerer sauntered around the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. A thoughtful expression crossed his lined face. The fire gave his frost touched hair and beard a ruddy cast. “But wait, the great gates of Vo Mimbre swung open wide, and the Malloreon Angaraks shouted in triumph. They bashed their wicked harpoons upon their iron shields, certain that victory was now within their grasp. The Murgos, Thulls, and Nadraks joined their exaltation.” Belgarath stopped, and shook his head. He dropped his voice low, until it rumbled deep in his chest and said, “But lo, their celebrations were premature. The mighty Knights of the Mimbrate Arends charged forth, the sound of their horses like terrible thunder.”

 

Kagome sat riveted. She could hear the clanging of the massive gates as they opened and the shouts of victory from the armies before the city. She wondered about the other trumpets in the distance and to what they might mean. It felt as if time had stopped and all that remained was Belgarath's story.

 

The old man crouched low, continuing on with exuberance in the timbre of his voice. “The Host surged forward to overwhelm them and claim the city. Their efforts were futile as the Mimbrate charge pressed forward, trampling all in its wake.” He clenched his hands into fists, punctuating his statements with sharp jabs into the air. “They overthrew the forefront of the Angarak forces, their powerful steeds crushing them mercilessly into the ground. The Mimbrate Knights continued to press forward, and behold, the second rank of the Host met their doom underneath their foaming chargers.”

 

“Yet, the Malloreons continued to rally their forces by clashing their spears in triumph against their shields. The Nadraks, Murgos, and Thulls joined them with fervor.” A great frown crossed Belgarath's face and his brow furrowed, deepening the lines in his forehead. His voice fell to a hushed whisper, “The mighty Mimbrate Arends had been reduced in great number and many a horse no longer had a rider. This sight gave hope to the Angarak Host, and exaltation swelled in the Grolim ranks, the dark, cruel priests of Torak.” His expression became grim and he said, “The battle could be theirs to win!”

 

Hiding her face into Inuyasha's chest, Kagome couldn't dispel the images of the men being trampled to death by the knights. She could hear in her mind the crunch of hoof meeting bone and the agonized cries of the foot soldier. Kagome saw horses rear up, their eyes wild. She heard the great roar of the Angarak Host with renewed vigor. There was so much slaughter in the old sorcerer's words.

 

“As all looked lost to those remaining within the great walls of Vo Mimbre, a great rumble could be heard from the forest to the east. On the horizon emerged a great force comprised of Algarian horsemen and Drasnian pike men.” Shadows obscured the old sorcerer's face from view. The clearing around the fire was hushed, and its cheerful crackling was the only sound. Belgarath continued, his voice deep, “They descended upon the Murgos, cleaving through them as one might harvest wheat. The bloodshed was great and terrible, staining the ground crimson. King Ad Rak Cthoros of the Murgos commanded his forces to turn asunder from the Mimbrates and face the terrible charge of the Algars and Drasnian forces, but their axes were no match for the calvary of the Horse People or the long spears of the vengeful Drasnians.”

 

Peeking, Kagome listened quietly. Belgarath's story stirred her imagination, setting it on fire. She could hear the marching feet and rumble of the horses as the new forces entered the battle. The descriptions of the brutal slaughter sickened her, and yet Kagome felt eager to hear more.

 

The old sorcerer's eyes became hard and his expression fierce. “Behold, then came upon the Murgo forces, already facing the brunt of the brutal Algarians and Drasnians, the mysterious Ulgos. Their wicked long knives with their hooks and saw-like edges easily penetrated the armor of the Murgo forces, spilling their lives upon the plains.” He reached down and accepted a tankard from his daughter. Belgarath took a deep drink, then resumed, “The Murgos quaked in fear as the sounds of death surrounded them. They had no where to retreat from their foes, and they continued to fall.”

 

There was another great hush, the old sorcerer's audience waiting for what would happen next. No one wanted to move for fear it would break his spell. The violence of his tale compelled one to listen. Despite its grimness and gore, there seemed to be hope hidden underneath. The Angaraks had been the invaders and seemed disconnected from each other, while the Western defenders had unity on their side.

 

“During this terrible massacre, Zedar the Sorcerer watched in abject horror. The awful cries of the wounded and the dying filled his ears, causing his hope to falter and his heart to become heavy with dread.” Belgarath paused to drink while glancing up towards the trees. “He journeyed to the black pavilion in which his master Torak remained. He spake unto Kal-Torak in an attempt to convince him to exit and assist his people. Zedar knew that if the Host should see their great and mighty God, they would have courage and renewed strength.” The old sorcerer frowned and sighed, then shook his head. “But nay, the Accursed One would not come out, choosing to remain within the safety of his iron pavilion.”

 

Kagome sensed a desperation in Zedar's failed attempt to coax his God to help his people. She could tell that the tide of the battle had swayed towards the West. Without their God, the Angaraks would surely falter. Kagome watched the old sorcerer closely, waiting to hear the next portion of the story.

 

Belgarath slowly walked around before his audience, a pensive expression crossing his creased face. He stopped abruptly, facing his captivated listeners. With a forceful cadence, the old man unfolded the next portion of his story until it built to a crescendo. “But lo, the ground quaked to the west from the marching feet of the legions of Imperial Tolnedra. Accompanying them were the terrifying Cherek Berserkers, who had escorted the might of Tolnedra from Tol Honeth up the turbulent River Arend in their great warships. Tolnedra's stout blades and Cherek's huge broadswords and axes closed in on the Nadraks and Thulls.”

 

He paused to sip again, then picked up without missing his tempo. “Yar Lek Thun, King of the Nadraks, and Gethel Mardu, King of the Thulls, conversed with one another about their predicament. They agreed to turn their forces away from the battle surrounding the chargers of Mimbre and face the onslaught of a combined Tolnedran-Cherek force. The clash of steel rang through the air, followed by the screams of butchery from the west.”

 

Hiding her face into Inuyasha's chest again, she could hear the cries of the renewed slaughter. It seemed that the Western forces only grew while the Angarak army only shrank. She felt Inuyasha's arms secure tighter around her, reassuring her. In many ways, Kagome felt as if she was attending a frightening movie. Belgarath's expert skill at telling a story so captivated her that she could clearly see the battle.

 

The old sorcerer rubbed his short beard as he told his tale. “Once again, Zedar went to the great pavilion to beseech Dread Kal-Torak to come forth to the aid of his Angarak forces. Belgarath's face became hard and cold. He said, his voice like thunder, terrible and commanding, “Torak replied to his pleas, spite in his voice, 'Art thou so afraid, Zedar, of a handful of Mimbrates? Does thy heart fail thee in the face of the ragged remnants of Drasnia and the tatters of Algaria and the blind creeping things that burrowed forth from the ground in Ulgo? Qualiest thou before the fat, over-pampered legions of Tolnedra and a few drunken barbarians from Cherek? My people are Angarak, despoilers of the world. The horde is beyond counting, and I am with them. No might in the world may stand against us---save only Cthrag-Yaska, and he who could raise Cthrag-Yaska against me is no more. Return to the battle, Zedar, or flee and save thy life. I will not come forth.'”

 

Kagome felt the hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. There was such foreboding in Belgarath's voice. It was apparent that Torak was so certain of victory that not even the slaughter could persuade him to join his forces. Contempt permeated the sorcerer's tone, and in her mind, Kagome pictured Zedar shrinking away from his master. In response to the image, Kagome burrowed her face into Inuyasha's chest.

 

Inuyasha threaded his fingers into her hair, chuckling softly. Kagome looked up, seeing the smirk on his face. She blushed and smiled in return. Inuyasha shook his head, turning his attention back towards the story. Kagome settled her head back onto his shoulder, watching Belgarath intently.

 

A look of awe replaced Belgarath's harsh expression. He waved his arm in front of himself as one might in the dark. He resumed narrating, wonder in the pitch of his voice, “But look, another force emerged from the forest to the north. They were silent and without fanfare. Their grim-expression and grey cloaks betrayed their identity as the Rivans. Onwards they marched, soundless and deliberate. Amongst them were forest-green warriors of the Asturian Arends, and as the Malloreons turned to face the arriving Rivans, they fell them with a great many arrows. Also with them were the dependable men of Sendaria. They closed in upon the Malloreons and began to slaughter them without mercy.”

 

Again, she could see the expert bowmen launch their arrows. They struck their targets, gurgles and gasps of death filling her ears. With them, she envisioned the silent Rivans, marching with purpose. She could see the desperation on the Malloreons faces as they were unable to battle back.

 

The old man pressed onwards, a hint of fear and dread in his tone, “And Zedar returned unto the black pavilion with a heavy heart. He spake to the Accursed One, 'Great Lord, I fear not the remnants of Drasnia or the tatters of Algaria nor the blind things that creep beneath the earth in Ulgo, nor am I unquiet about the handful of Mimbrate Knights, nor the pampered legions of Tolnedra nor the Beserkers of Cherek. Know, however, that thine army is assaulted on the front and on the left and on the right, and lo, now from out the forest behind thee come Asturians and Sendars, and them whom most you hate---the keepers of Cthrag-Yaska. Yea, Lord, the Rivans themselves have come to contend with thine host and to cast their defiance into thy teeth.'”

 

Belgarath's face took on a frightened cast, and Kagome was amazed at how he could shift so easily. His voice sounded so weak, and she wondered if Zedar had been the same. Even the old sorcerer seemed to shrink in size. She could tell that this was another turning point for the story. While Belgarath paused to drink, Kagome grew anxious to hear Torak's response.

 

Belgarath narrated in even tones, “At this, Kal Torak rose from his seat in fury, demanding that his servants arm him.” His face became enraged and it twisted into a mask of malice. He boomed, “He replied, 'Behold, Zedar, I will come forth, that the keepers of Cthrag-Yaska may see me and be afraid. I will raise up mine hand against them and they shall crumble as dry leaves before me. Send unto me the kings of the Angaraks that I may tell them of my coming.'”

 

Kagome squeaked, tucking her face into Inuyasha's shoulder. Inuyasha laughed softly, the sound reverberating in her ears. She lifted her head, and hissed, “Don't laugh.”

 

The old man's voice lowered until it sounded meek and frightened. Belgarath appeared to physically tremble, and he sniveled, “But Zedar answered, 'Behold, Great Lord, the kings of Angarak are no more. King Ad Rak Cthoros of the Murgos lies dead with a hook-pointed Ulgo knife in his bowels. And Yar Lek Thun of the Nadraks perished upon the point of a Tolnedran sword, and Gethel Mardu, King of the Thulls, is cloven---helm to chest---by a Cherek war-axe. And behold, the sons of the Kings are also no more and the generals of the Malloreons also, and there is confusion in the Host by reason of the deaths of the Kings and the sons of the Kings and the generals of the Malloreons, and of the multitude of the Grolims also.'”

 

Belgarath took another deep drink from his tankard. He said, his voice calm, “The Accursed One was furious and his wrath terrible. Wicked flames blazed in his right eye and, yea, even in the Eye that was Not. His servants affixed his shield to his maimed arm and Torak took up his black blade, the sword of shadows, Cthrek-Goru. Thus did the Accursed One exit his pavilion to make war. And yea, the Host rallied around Torak, he who was both King and God. They pushed back against their attackers with renewed fervor. The horde turned towards Ulgo and Cherek, Tolnedran and Sendar, Drasnian and Algar aside to encircle the Mimbrates.”

 

Exhaling the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Kagome watched the old sorcerer closely. She imagined the grim figure of Torak preparing for battle. The description of his maimed face with the unquenched fire in his missing eye sent chills down her spine. Kagome pictured the shadows wrapping around Torak's sword, making it all the more frightening. The formidable presence of the God must have overwhelmed the surging battlefield.

 

Silence settled over the old sorcerer's audience, as everyone waited for the next word. Belgarath leaned down and set his tankard down for a refill. When he stood up, he resumed his story. “From the north a brazen horn sounded in defiance. A great voice rose from within the Rivan ranks, addressing the Accursed One.” He accepted his fresh tankard from Polgara. In a great voice, Belgarath said, “'In the name of Belar, I defy thee, Torak, maimed and Accursed. In the name of Aldur also, I cast my despite into thy teeth. Let the bloodshed be abated, and I will meet thee---man against God, and I shall prevail against thee. Before thee I cast my gage. Take it up or stand as craven before men and Gods.'”

 

Kagome gasped, her eyes wide in wonder at the entrance of this new character. She knew that it couldn't be the Godslayer, as Garion sat across from her. Who would take his place and dare to defy a God? Their bravery astounded her. Kagome sat riveted, waiting anxiously to see how the Dark God would respond.

 

The old man said, “In a rage, Torak smashed the rocks with his shadow blade, Cthrek-Goru.” Once again, his face became furious, and he shouted, “He replied in a thunderous voice, 'Who among mortal kind is so foolish as to thus defy the King of the World? Who among you would contend with a God?'”

 

“The voice answered from among the grey-clad Rivans.” The old man's tone became defiant. “'I am Brand, Warder of Riva, and I defy thee, foul and misshapen Godling, and all thy stinking Host. Bring forth thy might. Take up my gage or slink away and come no more against the Kingdoms of the West.'”

 

Kagome visualized the Dark God's fury. He would shatter rock with ease. His terrible voice would carry far and cause the very earth to tremble. Torak's anger at being defied would make his Host cower in fear. It was clear that he must answer Brand's challenge.

 

“Zedar, in concern, counseled Torak.” Belgarath's pitch took on a pleading tone, and his expression became pitiful. “'I beseech thee, Oh my Lord, let not thy fury misguide thee. This Rivan is guided by thy kindred. Thy brother Gods do conspire against thee, and this challenge is a trap of their making.'”

 

The old sorcerer shook his head. “But lo,Torak ignored his servant's pleas. With his black blade, he crushed more rocks into dust, fire leaping from them.” He shook a fist, and thundered in a terrible voice, “He shouted, 'Behold, I am Torak, King of Kings and Lord of Lords. I fear no man of mortal kind nor the dim shades of long-forgotten Gods. I will go forth and destroy this loud-voiced Rivan fool, and mine enemies shall fall away before my wrath, and Cthrag-Yaska shall be mine again and the world also.'”

 

Belgarath paced as he said, “Then the Dread God of Angarak separated from the Host. He wore armor the color of blackest night and his sword Cthrek-Goru waved through the air like dark shadows. He bellowed indignantly, “He challenged, 'Who is this who will pit mortal flesh against the will and the invincible sword of the God Torak?'”

 

The tension around the campfire became thick. Kagome's posture was rigid in Inuyasha's embrace. She saw in her imagination the dread blade of the God as he waved it. The shadows that issued forth must have been horrifying, and she was thankful that she didn't have to face it. She held her breath, waiting to hear Brand's response to Torak's declaration.

 

The old man drank deeply. “Brand stepped forward, shedding his grey Rivan cloak to reveal his mighty sword and a shield shrouded in rude cloth. Marching with him strode a great wolf, and above his head hovered a snowy owl.” He paused, then said in an authoritative tone, “Brand retorted, 'I am Brand, Warder of Riva. I am he who will contend with thee, Torak. Beware of me, for the spirits of Belar and Aldur are with me. I alone stand between thee and the Orb for which thou hast brought war into the West.'”

 

The image of a mortal man standing before the invincible might of a God amazed Kagome. His ordinary blade would be useless against Cthrek-Goru, the sword of a God, as it would be against Inuyasha's Tetsusaiga. Brand's strength couldn't hope to match that of a God, even a maimed one. Yet, despite all of these surmounting odds, the Warder of Riva defying Torak provided hope.

 

Kagome was curious about Brand's companions into battle. It seemed unlikely that a wolf and an owl would join a man in such an enterprise. Perhaps there was more to them. Perhaps they were the same wolf and owl that had attacked Zedar. Maybe they were the spirits of Aldur and Belar. Or, maybe they were someone else entirely. Kagome watched the sorcerer closely, waiting for him to continue.

 

Belgarath kept the same imposing voice, although it certainly held a more sinister edge, “The Accursed One spake unto the wolf, 'Begone, Belgarath. Flee if thou wouldst save thy life. It occurs that I may soon have the leisure to give thee the instruction I so long ago promised thee, and I doubt that even thou wouldst survive my instruction.'”

 

“In defiance, the grizzled wolf showed his deadly fangs.” The old sorcerer let a wolfish grin cross his lined face. He howled, long and loud. The sound was so life like it was chilling.

 

Blinking, Kagome stared in wonder at the old man. She should have realized that he was the wolf. It made her curious as to why he would have faced Torak as a wolf and not as a man. Having seen him in that form, she knew he was formidable, but it still seemed unusual. She shuddered to think what Torak's instruction might have been. It would have been grueling, terrible, and awful. If the God's treatment of Zedar left any indication, it would break the spirit. She couldn't see this vengeful deity being a kind task master.

 

At the alarming wolf's howl, Kagome jumped, a small squeak escaping. She hid her face into Inuyasha's shoulder and squeezed her arms tight around his throat. The old man's imitation was so real, Kagome swore that the wolf was really there. In some ways, she surmised that he was.

 

Inuyasha grunted and Kagome eased up. She whispered, “Sorry.”

 

“Feh.”

 

The old man continued, his voice haughty, “Next, Torak addressed the snowy owl, 'Abjure thy father, Polgara, and come with me. I will wed thee and make thee Queen of all the world, and thy might and thy power shall be second only to mine.'”

 

“The great owl screamed her scorn, rejecting the Dark God's proposal.” Again, Belgarath imitated the owl's haunting cry, and it filled the clearing. There was a defiance and independence within his owl's scream.

 

Glancing at the sorceress, Kagome was awed. She had defied a God and rejected the chance to be nearly all-powerful. Kagome knew that Torak's promises appeared to be lofty and wonderful, but that they were also too good to be true. Much as his offer of instruction to Belgarath would be torture, marriage to this maimed God would have only been Hell. There would be no love---and no freedom.

 

Belgarath's imitation of the owl's screech of scorn was almost haunting. It spoke of independence and courage. Kagome could identify with it, the defiance and unwillingness to give in speaking directly to her heart. She knew she had many of the same qualities.

 

Belgarath boomed, “'Prepare, then, to perish all,' quoth Torak, and raised up Cthrek-Goru and smote down upon the shield of Brand, Warder of Riva.” The old man paced, telling his story with enthusiasm. “The two titans exchanged many terrible blows while the armies of the West and the Angarak Host watched in wonder. It became clear, as Torak's black sword smashed rock and Brand's grey sword cleaved earth, that this was a battle of Gods. Those witnessing the great clash trembled and quaked in terror.”

 

Concern entered the old sorcerer's voice. “Brand, being mortal, began to wane underneath the mighty blows of Torak's Cthrek-Goru. The sword of shadows bit into Brand's covered shield, beating the Warder of Riva back. Giving him reinforcement, the wolf let loose a howl and the owl screeched in one voice, renewing Brand's strength.” Incredibly, Belgarath managed to duplicate the dual voice, an eerie wolf howl and owl cry blended into a mesmerizing sound.

 

Kagome envisaged the duel between the two warriors. She could see Torak's black blade parry Brand's grey sword, both evenly matched. The clanging of their swords meeting in the struggle enthralled her. Belgarath's vivid story telling was so complete she could see the sparks from sword striking shield and hear the fighter's grunts.

 

She gasped when Belgarath mimicked the wolf howl and owl screech blended together. It just didn't seem possible that someone could do such a thing. In her mind, she could see both figures, both fierce. Their sheer will must have boosted Brand's.

 

The old man's voice returned to the tone of a storyteller as he built to his epic tale's climax. “Guided by Necessity, the Rivan Warder did unveil his shield, and lo, cast into the center thereof stood a round jewel. Grey it was and like unto the size of the heart of a child. And in the presence of Torak did the stone begin to glow. And brighter and brighter flamed the stone, and the Accursed One fell back before the stone, as one who faces unbearable fire.”

 

Belgarath's voice became hushed. “And shook away Torak his shield, and dropped he away his sword, Cthrek-Goru, and cried out and raised he his hands before his face to ward away the fire of the stone. And his right hand covered his right eye, but lo, the maimed God had no left hand, and the stump thereof was blackened by a fire no mortal had yet endured.”

 

Furrowing her brows, Kagome wondered about this stone. Was it the Orb of Aldur mentioned earlier? What else could cause the Dark God to falter? She pictured its brilliant light, and Torak's retreat.

 

Kagome was repulsed by the description of the maimed God. Yet, she also felt sympathy. He must have been powerless against the stone. For such a being, it must have been unbearable. He had already been disfigured, but to waver in front of his people must have been awful. Kagome also knew, sadly, that his defeat had been necessary.

 

The old man crouched again, pacing before the fire. He said, his voice both increasing in volume and tempo, “And Brand then struck. Two-handed held he his nameless grey sword as a man might hold a dagger, and plunged he the grey sword not at chest armor nor gorget---for knew he that a God may not be smitten save where he hath been injured before. Struck Brand, therefore, at the Eye that was Not. And behold, the point of Brand's sword struck true and did pierce the visor of the Accursed One and passed even into the Eye that was Not.”

 

A look of horror crossed Belgarath's face, “And Torak cried out and grasped the sword and plucked it out and cast it away. Then pulled the God his helm away and cast it aside also, and men saw the seared side of his face which had been marred when he had raised the Orb of Aldur to crack the world. And that face was horrible beyond power to describe it, and the Angaraks recoiled, and the men of the West turned away.” Sorrow and pity settled over his weathered features. “And the eye of Torak was seen to weep blood, and raised he up and pushed his arms even into the sky and cried out again. And cried he out one last time as he beheld the jewel which he had named Cthrag-Yaska and which had caused him to be smitten again, and then, as a tree hewn away at the ground, the Dark God fell, and the earth resounded with his fall.”

 

Sitting enchanted, Kagome pictured the mortal man, against all odds, striking the final blow to the immortal God. She couldn't dispel the terrible images of the sword piercing Torak's eye, nor the awful cry he must have unleashed. It seemed so simple. There was no parry or misstep on the part of Torak that had caused his defeat. The sight of a desired stone had.

 

Kagome could see that the Dark God had once been beautiful. She imagined how awful it must have been to hear the God's laments, and see the blood on his scarred face. Pity must have overwhelmed those that had witnessed it. There would have been no elated cheers at the God's fall.

 

The old man shook his head and said, “And a great cry went up from the Host by reason of the fall of the Accursed One, and the Angaraks despaired, for their God had fallen. Then fell the armies of the West upon the multitudes of the Host and slew them. And the armies of the Murgos upon the left and of the Thulls and the Nadraks upon the right fled into the river that they might save their lives. But swift is the River Arend at Vo Mimbre, and deep, and the waters swallowed them up. Few only escaped the waters and gained the far shore to flee back through the wilderness to the east.” He drank from his tankard, then gestured. “For the hordes of the Malloreons, however, was there no escape, for the armies of the West encircled them, and they were slain---yea, even unto the last man. For Behold, the armies of the West bore torches with them, and when dusky night laid his mantle of darkness upon the plain before the city, set they the torches ablaze that no Malloreon might escape their vengeance.”

 

A great sadness cast over Belgarath's face. “And the watchers within the city wept and came forth to beseech the armies to abate the killings, so great was their pity for the Malloreons. But grim-faced Brand, Warder of Rivan and overgeneral of the armies of the West, hardened his heart against their pleas and abated not the slaughter.”

 

Belgarath raised his voice, a great fervor to it. “And he spake, saying, 'No more! No more will Angaraks come into the West. No seed nor root shall escape this cleansing.'”

 

The old sorcerer continued, his tone subdued. “And in the night when the torches had burned low, came forth the scale-armored warriors of Ulgo and sought out the wounded and slew them. And none escaped, for indeed, from the warriors of Ulgo is nothing hidden in the dark.” He sighed, the sound full of regret. “And when the smoky dawn arose upon the forth day, the Host was no more, and the multitudes of the slain were lain in heaps upon the plain before the city---yea, as far as the eye could see, the ruin of Angarak did litter the fair plain.”

 

Belgarath said, “It is said that during the night after Torak's defeat that his servant, Zedar the Sorcerer, spirited his body away unto a place unknown. It is also said that the Accursed One will slumber forever, but others know the truth.” Hope filled his lined face and entered his voice. He said, concluding his tale, “For behold, a seed of the Rivan line has borne fruit, and they say one day the Rivan King will emerge from hiding to reclaim his rightful place. When that day arrives, the earth shall resound in joy and it shall be so loud and triumphant that not even Torak shall be able to ignore it. Until that time, the West shall prepare for the return of their Overlord and ready themselves for the war still yet to be fought.”

 

There was a moment of silence at the end of Belgarath's epic story as everyone took time to process it. Then, Garion began to applaud. Everyone soon followed suit, the sound of it thunderous. Belgarath bowed with a flourish, enjoying the praise. He smiled wide and held his hand up, signaling that they could stop.

 

Ce'Nedra clapped her hands and squealed in delight. She ran to the old man and hugged him. The tiny queen kissed his cheek. “Thank-you, Belgarath. That was the best telling of Vo Mimbre I've ever heard. I felt like I was there.”

 

“I'm glad my story telling lived up to your expectations.” The old sorcerer smiled and hugged her. He bowed low to her and said, “I aim to please, your Majesty.”

 

The petite red head giggled, the sound musical. She kissed his cheek again. “Oh it did and more.”

 

“Good. I am at your service.” Belgarath smiled.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I know. I love you, too.” He winked.

 

“You honor us, Belgarath, by telling us such a noble story, usually reserved for kings. Thank-you,” Durnik said, his earnest voice soft.

 

Belgarath chuckled softly. “Then it's a good thing that Garion's here, now isn't it?”

 

“Don't tease him, father. I love him just the way he is,” Polgara said, gathering dishes.

 

“Oh.” Durnik blushed. “Sorry, Garion. I sometimes forget that you're a king.”

 

Garion laughed. “That's okay. I like to forget about being a king sometimes.”

 

“One found the story to be rather incomplete,” Poledra said, an amused lilt to her voice. “One seems to recall that much more happened during that event than what was just heard.”

 

Belgarath shrugged. “You'll have to take that up with Davoul the Lame, although I did some embellishing of my own. He was an Arend, after all.”

 

Kagome's brow furrowed. At the mention of there being more to the story, she mulled it over. She recalled a previous discussion and wondered if the two had any connection. She asked, “Does that story have anything to do with those two purposes you spoke of before?”

 

A frown crossed Belgarath's face. He nodded. “Yes, it does. You're very observant. It's one of the times that the two Purposes met in the form of a Child of Light and Child of Dark.”

 

Inuyasha snorted and growled softly. Kagome frowned, wondering what could be bothering him. She sighed, realizing that he must be growing impatient. She wouldn't make him wait much longer, but she had a couple more questions.

 

Kagome asked, “And Brand was the Child of Light?”

 

“Yes.” Belgarath paced. “The Child of Light and Child of Dark have met several times. Anyone can be one or the other, but both Purposes are choosy about their instruments.”

 

“I see.”

 

Inuyasha nudged her and hissed, “Let's go already.”

 

“Okay. We're going.”

 

“Go on ahead of me. I've got to talk to Garion and I'll catch up.” He nuzzled his mark, inhaling deeply. “Go on, it's getting late.”

 

Kagome looked up, noting the approaching sundown. “Okay. Don't be long.”

 

“I won't.”

 

Standing, Kagome said, “Thank-you for the story. I really enjoyed it.”

 

“You're welcome.” Belgarath winked. “It's not often that I get to tell that story to those who haven't already heard it. The pleasure was all mine.”