BELGARIAD

The Last Word

by PJ

 

Belgarath shuffled across the empty courtyard, draped in a torn and soiled brown cloak with the tattered hood thrown up over his gray head. The grolim's tower was guarded by two burly Murgos garbed in chainmail vests, hands resting easily upon sheathed sword hilts. Belgarath approached the two guards, who clasped the hilts of their weapons tighter, their dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Off with you, old beggar! You'll get no coin or sympathy from us!" snarled the Murgo to the left, baring several inches of his sword threateningly.

Belgarath whispered a Word, then reached for the latch of the squat tower. The two Murgos made no move while Belgarath opened the heavy wooden portal, slipping inside and closing the iron-bound door behind him.

The entry foyer was lined with burning copper braziers that gave off welcome warmth after the cold night air from outside. Rich carpets covered the stone floor, tapestries depicting Torak as a radiant being of fire and light hung from the circular chamber's high walls. A stone stair wound up the wall of the tower, beginning at Belgarath's right and spiraling up to the summit of the spire. Belgarath cast off his filthy cloak and began ascending the stairs, his soft shoes making no sound as he climbed warily.

The ancient sorcerer reached the summit of the stairs with no incident. The old man frowned when he reached for the latch of the single door at the top of the stair, it resonated with magic, the grolim master of the tower had warded the portal to his private chambers. Belgarath passed his right palm across the door, invoking a second Word, shattering the enchanted lock of the portal. The sorcerer pushed open the door and entered the room beyond quickly, his use of the Will and the Word had sent violent waves through the ether, any grolim in the city would hear those resonances and know of his presence.

The grolim's bedchambers were large and ornate, as Belgarath had expected. Black velvet drapes covered the tower room's windows, more copper braziers warmed this chamber, but they burned more than simple charcoal, they gave off a heavy, sickly-sweet perfume that smelled like rotting orchids. Belgarath covered his bearded face with the wide left sleeve of his gray robes, he marched across the chamber, to the enormous bed opposite the open door.

Ce'Nedra lay bonelessly upon the black silk sheets, dressed in a gauzy white see-through gown. The little queen was laying on her right side, her back to the door, her brilliant red hair spread out across the black pillow beneath her.

Belgarath rolled Ce'Nedra onto her back. The Rivan Queen blinked glazed, green eyes, she smiled languidly when she met the old wizard's concerned gaze.

"Grandfather," murmured Ce'Nedra, raising up her slender, white arms. "I hoped you would come for me."

"We have to go now, Ce'Nedra!" hissed Belgarath, gathering the little queen in his wiry arms and lifting her to his chest.

"I missed you," purred Ce'Nedra, combing her small fingers through Belgarath's gray beard, planting a small kiss on his chin.

Belgarath looked down at the beautiful, young queen and took a moment to kiss Ce'Nedra's neck. Ce'Nedra giggled and wrapped her arms around Belgarath's neck, she clung to him while he rushed from the bedchamber, the hems of his gray robes fluttering behind him.

A chill rain was falling when Belgarath emerged from the tower. The two guards continued to ignore Belgarath as he strode across the courtyard, Ce'Nedra shivering in his tight embrace.

***

Garion flexed his muscled pelvis and thrust upward. Salmissra moaned on top of the naked Rivan King, her long braids of raven hair bouncing in the hot air of the Queen's bedchamber as she rode Garion, thighs clamped tightly around his waist, pussy squeezing his throbbing erection. Garion blinked sweat from his flushed face and slid his palms over the Serpent Queen's nude, slick body. Salmissra was slim and taut, her ribs were visible as she bucked over Garion's crotch, her small belly clenched and gleaming in the dim candlelight. Garion's hands enfolded Salmissra's small, warm breasts. Salmissra smiled, then threw her head back, moaning sharply, thrusting forward with her hips, slapping her crotch over the Rivan King's. Garion squeezed Salmissra's sweat-slick breasts, gasping while he rammed his cock inside the young woman, his eyes widening when Salmissra contracted her vaginal muscles, milking Garion's member skillfully. Salmissra lowered her head, one ebony braid fell down her bare left shoulder, the Serpent Queen's eyes were dark and smoldering, she bit her ruby lip, whimpering softly when Garion's cock speared up into her belly, swelling inside her from the deft stroking of her tight vagina.

Garion clutched Salmissra's hot breasts when he geysered inside her. Salmissra moaned deeply and arched her back, her pelvis shuddering while hot semen soaked her gaping pussy.

The Rivan King dropped his arms to the sweat-soaked white sheets and drew air into his chest as Salmissra dismounted him and draped herself across the young king's legs. Garion groaned when he felt Salmissra begin sucking on his sore cock, her lips locked around his shaft, her tongue cleaning the semen from his member.

*I have to leave soon,* whispered a voice in Garion's mind.

Garion snapped his eyes to the Orb which rested on the pommel of his nearby sword. The smooth Orb's azure light was becoming dimmer and dimmer, it flickered weakly.

Garion pushed Salmissra away and jumped from the veiled bed. He grasped the plain leather scabbard of his sword and stared intently into the Orb's face. "What's happening?"

*The Prophecy is fulfilled. Torak is dead, you are the Rivan King. I am no longer required.*

"But..Ce'Nedra..I need your help to rescue her!"

*The Disciple has recovered her, that is why you must use me now, his time draws to a close as well.*

Salmissra watched through the ethereal veils of her bed while Garion struggled into his leather breeches and tunic.

"What's wrong?"

"I have to leave! The Orb can take me to Ce'Nedra, but it can only do it now!"

"You could stay..with me," whispered Salmissra, playing with one ornate braid.

Stomping into his boots, Garion belted on his sword before walking to the bedside. He gently pulled away the gauzy, white veils and stroked Salmissra's flushed, soft cheek.

"I can't do that. I have to bring Ce'Nedra back to Riva. It's the way things are supposed to be."

"Your Prophecy," frowned Salmissra, dropping her eyes, unwilling to meet Garion's gaze.

"Aye," sighed Garion.

The young king let his hand fall from the Serpent Queen's cheek, he backed away from the bed, placing his right palm over the dying Orb, drawing upon its fading power.

"Garion..thank..thank you for restoring me," swallowed Salmissra, unaccustomed to thanking anyone for a service.

Garion smiled. "You more than paid me back with your..affection. Be well, your majesty."

Salmissra waved sadly to Garion as the Orb's magic enfolded the young man and consumed him.

"Good-bye, my king," murmured Salmissra, a tear welling beneath one dark eye.

***

Belgarath snapped the horse's reins, urging more speed from the tiring animal. The old sorcerer glanced over his right shoulder, he grimaced, over twenty Murgos pursued him, with the grolim in the middle, screaming and frothing at the mouth. Small hands clung to Belgarath's snapping robes, the wizard spared a glance for Ce'Nedra, who was nestled in the saddle in front of him, thin arms clutching the old man.

"Hang on, little one," smiled Belgarath, guiding the gray stallion that thundered across the desolate plain, kicking up thick dust in its speeding wake.

The ground exploded in front of the racing stallion. The horse screamed as it hurled through the air, Belgarath following the dropping animal. The stallion's scream ended abruptly when its neck broke upon impact with the earth, Belgarath crashed a short distance away, curled around the young queen to protect her from injury. There was a sharp crack, Belgarath barely stifled a howl of agony, his right leg was broken beneath Ce'Nedra.

The riding Murgos surrounded the old man and his charge. The grolim pushed his way forward upon a midnight black mare, the animal tossed its long mane as the gray-skinned priest sneered in triumph.

"The mighty Belgarath is brought low by a servant of Torak! You're getting old, hedge wizard!"

Ce'Nedra freed herself from Belgarath and helped the sorcerer to his feet, supporting him with an arm around his waist. Belgarath draped his left arm over Ce'Nedra's small shoulders, he leaned heavily against her, his face clammy and damp, ashen from the incredible pain of his wounds.

"Put the old horse out of his misery!" smiled the grolim, his burning eyes shifting to Ce'Nedra. "You foolish, little bitch! I told you that you were mine!"

Ce'Nedra buried her face in Belgarath's dusty robes, sobbing. Belgarath's anguished face hardened, he drew upon the last vestiges of his Will, forming the Words that would lay waste to the smirking grolim and his henchmen.

A blue sphere blossomed to Belgarath's left. The bubble of magic melted away, Garion stood holding the Sword of Riva by the wide blade, the Orb brilliant and blinding before him.

"The Rivan King! It cannot be!" gasped the grolim, fear washing across his coarse face.

Garion smiled and flipped the glowing sword so the hilt slapped into his open palms. He swung the burning blade, blue fire gushed from the weapon, raining down on the paralyzed Murgos, clinging to their bodies. Murgos screamed in agony as they burned like oil-soaked torches, they raced off into the wastes, beacons of blue flame that disappeared from sight. The grolim fought vainly to counter the Orb's magic, he fell from his screaming mare, the flesh melting from his bones, until only a smoking skeleton remained.

Garion lowered the sizzling Sword of Riva. The Orb blinked, its inner light fading.

*Good-bye, Garion,* murmured the Orb before its magic died.

Belgarath collapsed onto the dusty ground. Ce'Nedra cried out and dropped to her knees, cradling the old sorcerer's gray head on her small lap.

"Garion! Help him!" wept Ce'Nedra, her green eyes wide and frantic.

"I can't," said the young king, kneeling across from his wife, taking Belgarath's cold, right hand.

"Why not?"

"My life's over, Ce'Nedra," whispered Belgarath, the pain erased from his wrinkled face. "A couple thousand years is finally catching up with me."

"Why now?" sobbed Ce'Nedra, stroking the old man's pale face.

"My work's done," smiled Belgarath. He looked up into Ce'Nedra's weeping eyes, "It's alright, little one, as long as you're safe, that's all that matters. You are the future, take care of that boy when he arrives."

"Boy?" blinked Ce'Nedra. "My..son?"

"He is the final expression of the Prophecy, the promise for a better destiny, an age of peace without Torak to plague the world."

Belgarath took Ce'Nedra's small hand, he rubbed her knuckles with his callused thumb, his eyes slowly began to grow heavy and close.

"Belgarath! Grandfather! I love you!" sniffled Ce'Nedra, squeezing the sorcerer's gnarled hand.

Belgarath smiled softly, his eyes closed, the old wolf fell into eternal slumber. Time devoured Belgarath's body, it collapsed quickly to ash, it blew away upon a strong breeze. Ce'Nedra raised her tear-streaked face and watched the glittering particles fly away into the crimson sky of morning.

The End