Castle of Wizardry

would be good," Durnik answered. "The ravine should draw just like a chimney. If we build a fire and fill the whole thing with smoke, nobody's going to come down until the fire goes out."
    Silk grinned broadly. "Durnik," he said, "you're a treasure."

Chapter Five
    THERE WERE BUSHES, scrub and bramble for the most part, growing here and there along the base of the cliff, and they quickly fanned out with their swords to gather enough to build a large, smoky fire. "You'd better hurry," Belgarath called to them as they worked. "There are a dozen Murgos or more already halfway down the ravine."
    Durnik, who had been gathering dry sticks and splintered bits of log, ran back to the mouth of the ravine, knelt and began striking sparks from his flint into the tinder he always carried. In a few moments he had a small fire going, the orange flames licking up around the weathered gray sticks. Carefully he added larger pieces until his fire was a respectable blaze. Then he began piling thornbushes and brambles atop it, critically watching the direction of the smoke. The bushes hissed and smoldered fitfully at first, and a great cloud of smoke wafted this way and that for a moment, then began to pour steadily up the ravine. Durnik nodded with satisfaction. "Just like a chimney," he observed. From far up the cut came shouts of alarm and a great deal of coughing and choking.
    "How long can a man breathe smoke before he chokes to death?" Silk asked.
    "Not very long," Durnik replied.
    "I didn't think so." The little man looked happily at the smoking blaze. "Good fire," he said, holding his hands out to the warmth.
    "The smoke's going to delay them, but I think it's time to move on out," Belgarath said, squinting at the cloud-obscured ball of the sun hanging low over the horizon to the west. "We'll move on up the face of the escarpment and then make a run for it. We'll want to surprise them a bit, to give us time to get out of range before they start throwing rocks down on us."
    "Is there any sign of Hettar out there?" Barak asked, peering out at the grassland.
    "We haven't seen any yet," Durnik replied.
    "You do know that we're going to lead half of Cthol Murgos out onto the plain?" Barak pointed out to Belgarath.
    "That can't be helped. For right now, we've got to get out of here. If Taur Urgas is up there, he's going to send people after us, even if he has to throw them off the cliff personally. Let's go."
    They followed the face of the cliff for a mile or more until they found a spot where the rockfall did not extend so far out onto the plain. "This will do," Belgarath decided. "As soon as we get to level ground, we ride hard straight out. An arrow shot off the top of that cliff will carry a long way. Is everybody ready?" He looked around at them. "Let's move, then."
    They led their horses down the short, steep slope of rock to the grassy plain below, mounted quickly and set off at a dead run.
    "Arrow!" Silk said sharply, looking up and back over his shoulder. Garion, without thinking, slashed with his will at the tiny speck arching down toward them. In the same instant he felt a peculiar double surge coming from either side of him. The arrow broke into several pieces in midair.
    "If you two don't mind!" Belgarath said irritably to Garion and Aunt Pol, half reining in his horse.
    "I just didn't want you to tire yourself, father," Aunt Pol replied coolly. "I'm sure Garion feels the same way."
    "Couldn't we discuss it later?" Silk suggested, looking apprehensively back at the towering escarpment.
    They plunged on, the long, brown grass whipping at the legs of their horses. Other arrows began to fall, dropping farther and farther behind them as they rode. By the time they were a half mile out from the sheer face, the arrows were sheeting down from the top of the cliff in a whistling black rain.
    "Persistent, aren't they?" Silk observed.
    "It's a racial trait," Barak replied. "Murgos are stubborn to the point of idiocy."
    "Keep going," Belgarath told them. "It's just a question of time until they bring up a catapult."
    "They're throwing ropes down the face of the cliff," Dumik reported, peering back at the escarpment. "As soon as a few of them get to the bottom, they'll pull the fire clear of the ravine and start bringing horses down."
    "At least it slowed them down a bit," Belgarath said.
    Twilight, hardly more than a gradual darkening of the cloudy murk that had obscured the sky for several days, began to creep across the Algarian