He’d emerged from his pavilion sublimely convinced that he was going to get everything he wanted on this day, and it was that conviction that led him to hurl his Will at me; but mother had simply shunted me out of the way and had answered for me, disdainfully rejecting him. The appearance of Brand instead of the Rivan King suggested to Torak that he’d win; mother’s scornful rejection suggested that he’d lose. Torak was a God, and he wasn’t equipped to deal with uncertainty. Thus it was with doubt gnawing at his soul that he rushed at Brand, flailing at him with that huge sword. There almost seemed to be a kind of desperation in his charge. Brand, on the other hand, seemed calm, even abstracted. His responses were studied, one might almost say slightly bored.
The duel seemed to last forever, with Torak growing more frenzied and Brand growing progressively more indifferent. Finally, the Dragon-God hacked his way through Brand’s defenses and cut a deep gash in Brand’s shoulder, and that was the signal we’d been waiting for without even knowing that we were waiting for it. I strongly suspect that it was part of the agreement between the contending Purposes that Torak had to draw blood before Brand could overwhelm him. Brand’s shoulder gushed blood and father howled even as I screamed.
Then Brand was unleashed. His studied, almost bored expression vanished, replaced with an intent alertness. He scraped his sword-edge down across the face of his shield, cutting away the soldier’s cloak which had hidden what was embedded in the shield’s center. The Master’s Orb, all ablaze, struck the Dragon-God full in the face with its fire.
Of course that had been what the whole war had been about. We’d spent ten years and sacrificed thousands of lives with no other purpose than to bring Torak to a place where he’d be forced to face the Orb at a certain predetermined place and time.
I don’t think any of us had fully understood just how painful the presence of the Orb would be for the God of Angarak. He screamed as its baleful fire struck him and seared his face again. Screaming still, he cast off his shield and threw away his sword, desperately trying to cover his face.
And that’s when Brand struck him down. Swiftly seizing his sword-hilt in both hands, the Rivan Warder drove his blade directly into the maimed God’s left eye-socket where the Eye that was Not still blazed as brightly as it had on that day almost fifty centuries before when the Orb had punished him for raising it to crack the world.
Torak shrieked again, staggering back. He jerked Brand’s sword from his eye, and bright blood gushed forth. Weeping blood, the God of Angarak stood stock still for a moment. Then he toppled, and the very earth shuddered.
I don’t believe that anyone on that vast battlefield moved or made a sound for the space of a hundred heartbeats after that thunderous fall. What had just happened was such a titanic EVENT that I was a bit surprised that the sun didn’t falter and then stop in his inexorable course. I was probably the only one there who heard a single sound – the exulting sound of mother’s howls of triumph. My mother’s spent thousands of years in the form of the woman we know as Poledra, but down in the deepest levels of her being, she’s still a wolf.
My own sense of triumph was heavily overlaid with relief. I’m usually very sure of myself, but my brief encounter with Torak’s Will had shaken me to the core of my being. I’d discovered that when Torak commanded, I had to obey, and that discovery had filled me with uncertainty and terror.
What followed the fall of Torak wasn’t pleasant. The Angaraks were surrounded and completely demoralized. To massacre them – and there’s no other word for it – was excessive, to say the very least. Brand, however, was implacable. Finally, General Cerran firmly suggested that enough was enough, but Brand was an Alorn at the very bottom, and when it comes to killing Angaraks, no Alorn can ever get enough. The butchery went on through the night, and when the sun rose, there weren’t any live Angaraks left on the battlefield.
Then, when there was no one left to kill, Brand, his wounded shoulder bandaged and his arm in a sling, ordered his Alorns to bring Torak’s body to him so that he could ‘look upon the face of the King of the World’ – only Torak’s body wasn’t there anymore. That’s when Brand rather peremptorily sent for my family and me. The twins, Beldin, father and I picked our way across the littered field to the hilltop where Brand stood surveying the wreckage of Angarak. ‘Where is he?’ he demanded of us in a tone I really didn’t like much.
‘Where’s who?’ Beldin replied.
‘Torak, of course. Nobody seems to be able to find his body.’
‘What an amazing thing,’ Beldin said sardonically. ‘You didn’t actually think you’d find him, did you? Zedar carried him off just as soon as the sun went down.’
‘He what?’
‘Didn’t you tell him?’ Beldin said to father.
‘He didn’t need to know about it. If he had, he might have tried to stop it.’
‘What’s going on here?’ Brand’s regal tone was starting to irritate me.
‘It was part of the agreement between the Necessities,’ father explained. ‘In exchange for your victory, you weren’t to be allowed to keep Torak’s body – not that it’d have done any good if you had. This wasn’t the last EVENT, Brand, and we haven’t seen the last of Torak.’
‘But he’s dead.’
‘No, Brand,’ I told him as gently as I could. ‘You didn’t really think that sword of yours could kill him, did you? The only sword that can do that is still hanging on the wall back at Riva.’
‘Hang it all, Pol!’ he exclaimed. ‘Nobody survives a sword-thrust through the head!’
‘Except a God, Brand. He’s comatose, but he will wake up again. The final duel’s still out in the future, and that one’s going to involve Torak and the Rivan king. That’ll be the one where they take out their real swords and where somebody really gets killed. You did very well here, dear one, but try to keep your perspective. What happened here was really nothing more than a skirmish.’
I could tell that he really didn’t like that, but his distinctly imperial behavior was starting to run away with him, and I felt that he needed to be brought up short. ‘Then all of this has been for nothing,’ he said dejectedly.
‘I wouldn’t exactly call it nothing, Brand,’ father said. ‘If Torak had won here, he’d own the world. You stopped him. That counts for something, doesn’t it?’