Enchanter's End Game

from him. But suddenly a vast chorus of voices rang down through all the centuries to him, crying out the single word, "No!" All the lives of all who preceded him had been directed at this one moment, and those lives infused him now. Though he alone held Iron-grip's sword, Belgarion of Riva was not alone, and Torak's will could not sway him.
    In a move of absolute defiance, Garion again raised his flaming sword.
    "So be it, then," Torak roared. "To the death, Belgarion!"
    At first it seemed but some trick of the flickering light that filled the tomb, but almost as soon as that thought occurred, Garion saw that Torak was growing larger, swelling upward, towering, expanding. With an awful wrenching sound, he shouldered aside the rusted iron roof of the tomb, bursting upward.
    Once again without thinking, without even stopping to consider how to do it, Garion also began to expand, and he too exploded through the confining ceiling, shuddering away the rusty debris as he rose.
    In open air among the decaying ruins of the City of Night the two titanic adversaries faced each other beneath the perpetual cloud that blotted out the sky.
    "The conditions are met," the dry voice spoke through Garion's lips.
    "So it would seem," another, equally unemotional voice came from Torak's steel-encased mouth.
    "Do you wish to involve others?" Garion's voice asked.
    "It hardly seems necessary. These two have sufficient capacity for what must be brought to bear upon them."
    "Then let it be decided here."
    "Agreed."
    And with that Garion felt a sudden release as all constraint was removed from him. Torak, also released, raised Cthrek Goru, his lips drawn back in a snarl of hate.
    Their struggle was immense. Rocks shattered beneath the colossal force of deflected blows. The sword of the Rivan King danced in blue flames, and Cthrek Goru, Torak's blade of shadows, swept a visible darkness with it at every blow. Beyond thought, beyond any emotion but blind hatred, the two swung and parried and lurched through the broken ruins, crushing all beneath them. The elements themselves erupted as the fight continued. The wind shrieked through the rotting city, tearing at the trembling stones. Lightning seethed about them, glaring and flickering. The earth rumbled and shook beneath their massive feet. The featureless cloud that had concealed the City of Night beneath its dark mantle for five millenia began to boil and race above them. Great patches of stars appeared and disappeared in the roiling middle of the surging cloud. The Grolims, both human and nonhuman, aghast at the towering struggle that had suddenly erupted in their very midst, fled shrieking in terror.
    Garion's blows were directed at Torak's blind side, and the Dark God flinched from the fire of the Orb each time the flaming sword struck, but the shadow of Cthrek Goru put a deathly chill into Garion's blood each time it passed over him.
    They were more evenly matched than Garion had imagined possible. Torak's advantage of size had been erased when they had both swelled into immensity, and Garion's inexperience was offset by Torak's maiming.
    It was the uneven ground that betrayed Garion. Retreating before a sudden flurry of massive blows, he felt one heel catch on a heap of tumbled rock, and the rotten stones crumbled and rolled beneath his feet. Despite his scrambling attempt to keep his balance, he fell.
    Torak's single eye blazed in triumph as he raised the dark sword. But, seizing his sword hilt in both hands, Garion raised his burning blade to meet that vast blow. When the swords struck, edge to edge, a huge shower of sparks cascaded down over Garion.
    Again Torak raised Cthrek Goru, but a strange hunger flickered across his steel-encased face.
    "Yield!" he roared.
    Garion stared up at the huge form towering over him, his mind racing.
    "I have no wish to kill thee, boy," Torak said, almost pleading. "Yield and I will spare thy life."
    And then Garion understood. His enemy was not trying to kill him, but was striving instead to force him to submit. Torak's driving need was for domination! This was where the real struggle between them lay!
    "Throw down thy sword, Child of Light, and bow before me," the God commanded, and the force of his mind was like a crushing weight.
    "I will not," Garion gasped, wrenching away from that awful compulsion. "You may kill me, but I will not yield."
    Torak's face twisted as if his perpetual agony had been doubled by Garion's refusal.
    "Thou must, " he