PROLOGUE

WHEN THE WORLD was new, the seven Gods dwelt in harmony, and the

races of man were as one people. Belar, youngest of the Gods, was

beloved by the Alorns. He abode with them and cherished them, and they

prospered in his care. The other Gods also gathered peoples about them,

and each God cherished his own people.

But Belar's eldest brother, Aldur, was God over no people. He dwelt

apart from men and Gods, until the day that a vagrant child sought him

out. Aldur accepted the child as his disciple and called him Belgarath.

Belgarath learned the secret of the Will and the Word and became a

sorcerer. In the years that followed, others also sought out the

solitary God. They joined in brotherhood to learn at the feet of Aldur,

and time did not touch them.

Now it happened that Aldur took up a stone in the shape of a globe,

no larger than the heart of a child, and he turned the stone in his hand

until it became a living soul. The power of the living jewel, which men

called the Orb of Aldur, was very great, and Aldur worked wonders with

it.

Of all the Gods, Torak was the most beautiful, and his people were

the Angaraks. They burned sacrifices before him, calling him Lord of

Lords, and Torak found the smell of sacrifice and the words of adoration

sweet. The day came, however, when he heard of the Orb of Aldur, and

from that moment he knew no peace.

Finally, in a dissembling guise, he went to Aldur. "My brother," he

said, "it is not fitting that thou shouldst absent thyself from our

company and counsel. Put aside this jewel which hath seduced thy mind

from our fellowship."

Aldur looked into his brother's soul and rebuked him. "Why lost thou

seek lordship and dominion, Torak? Is not Angarak enough for thee? Do

not in thy pride seek to possess the Orb, lest it slay thee."

Great was Torak's shame at the words of Aldur, and he raised his hand and smote his brother. Taking the jewel, he fled.

The other Gods besought Torak to return the Orb, but he would not.

Then the races of man rose up and came against the hosts of Angarak and

made war on them. The wars of the Gods and of men raged across the land

until, near the high places of Korim, Torak raised the Orb and forced

its will to join with his to split the earth asunder. The mountains were

cast down, and the sea came in. But Belar and Aldur joined their wills

and set limits upon the sea. The races of man, however, were separated

one from the others, and the Gods also.

Now when Torak raised the living Orb against the earth, its mother,

it awoke and began to glow with holy flame. The face of Torak was seared

by the blue fire. In pain he cast down the mountains; in anguish he

cracked open the earth; in agony he let in the sea. His left hand flared

and burned to ashes, the flesh on the left side of his face melted like

wax, and his left eye boiled in its socket. With a great cry, he cast

himself into the sea to quench the burning, but his anguish was without

end.

When Torak rose from the water, his right side was still fair, but

his left was burned and scarred hideously by the fire of the Orb. In

endless pain, he led his people away to the east, where they built a

great city on the plains of Mallorea, which they called Cthol Mishrak,

City of Night, for Torak hid his maiming in darkness. The Angaraks

raised an iron tower for their God and placed the Orb in an iron cask in

the topmost chamber. Often Torak stood before the cask, then fled

weeping, lest his yearning to look on the Orb overpower him and he

perish utterly.

The centuries rolled past in the lands of the Angarak, and they came to call their maimed God Kal-Torak, both King and God.

Belar had taken the Alorns to the north. Of all men, they were the

most hardy and warlike, and Belar put eternal hatred for Angarak in

their hearts. With cruel swords and axes they ranged the north, even to

the fields of eternal ice, seeking a way to their ancient enemies.

Thus it was until the time when Cherek Bear-shoulders, greatest king

of the Alorns, traveled to the Vale of Aldur to seek out Belgarath the

Sorcerer. "The way to the north is open," he said. "The signs and the

auguries are propitious. Now is the time ripe for us to discover the way

to the City of Night and regain the Orb from One-eye."

Poledra, wife of Belgarath, was great with child, and he was

reluctant to leave her. But Cherek prevailed. They stole away one night

to join Cherek's sons, Dras Bull-neck, Algar Fleet-foot, and Riva

Iron-grip.

Cruel winter gripped the northland, and the moors glittered beneath

the stars with frost and steel-gray ice. To seek out their way,

Belgarath cast an enchantment and took the shape of a great wolf. On

silent feet, he slunk through the snow-floored forests where the trees

cracked and shattered in the sundering cold. Grim frost silvered the

ruff and shoulders of the wolf, and ever after the hair and beard of

Belgarath were silver.

Through snow and mist they crossed into Mallorea and came at last to

Cthol Mishrak. Finding a secret way into the city, Belgarath led them to

the foot of the iron tower. Silently they climbed the rusted stairs

which had known no step for twenty centuries. Fearfully they passed

through the chamber where Torak tossed in pain-haunted slumber, his

maimed face hidden by a steel mask. Stealthily they crept past the

sleeping God in the smoldering darkness and came at last to the chamber

where lay the iron cask in which rested the living Orb.

Cherek motioned for Belgarath to take the Orb, but Belgarath refused.

"I may not touch it," he said, "lest it destroy me. Once it welcomed

the touch of man or God, but its will hardened when Torak raised it

against its mother. It will not be so used again. It reads our souls.

Only one without ill intent, who is pure enough to take it and convey it

in peril of his life, with no thought of power or possession, may touch

it now."

"What man has no ill intent in the silence of his soul?" Cherek

asked. But Riva Iron-grip opened the cask and took up the Orb. Its fire

shone through his fingers, but he was not burned.

"So be it, Cherek," Belgarath said. "Your youngest son is pure. It

shall be his doom and the doom of all who follow him to bear the Orb and

protect it." And Belgarath sighed, knowing the burden he had placed

upon Riva.

"Then his brothers and I will sustain him," Cherek said, "for so long as this doom is upon him."

Riva muffled the Orb in his cloak and hid it beneath his tunic. They

crept again through the chambers of the maimed God, down the rusted

stairs, along the secret way to the gates of the city, and into the

wasteland beyond.

Soon after, Torak awoke and went as always into the Chamber of the

Orb. But the cask stood open, and the Orb was gone. Horrible was the

wrath of Kal-Torak. Taking his great sword, he went down from the iron

tower and turned and smote it once, and the tower fell. To the Angaraks

he cried out in a voice of thunder. "Because you are become indolent and

unwatchful and have let a thief steal that for which I paid so dear, I

will break your city and drive you forth. Angarak shall wander the earth

until Cthrag Yaska, the burning stone, is returned to me." Then he cast

down the City of Night in ruins and drove the hosts of Angarak into the

wilderness. Cthol Mishrak was no more.