Guardians of the West

When it was no more than inches above the golden tassels of the ripe grass, it flared its wings, thrust down with its taloned feet and seemed somehow to shimmer in the morning air. When the momentary shimmer faded, the hawk was gone and the hunchbacked Beldin stood waist-deep in the tall grass, with one eyebrow cocked curiously. "What are you doing all the way down here, boy?" he asked without any kind of preamble.
    "Good morning, Beldin," Errand said calmly, leaning back to let the horse know that he wanted to stop for a few minutes.
    "Does Pol know how far from home you've been going?" the ugly man demanded, ignoring Errand's gesture toward politeness.
    "Probably not entirely," Errand admitted. "She knows that I'm out riding, but she might not know how much ground we can cover."
    "I've got better things to do than spend every day watching over you, you know," the irascible old man growled.
    "You don't have to do that."
    "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. It's my month for it."
    Errand looked at him, puzzled.
    "Didn't you know that one of us watches you every time you leave the cottage?"
    "Why would you want to do that?"
    "You do remember Zedar, don't you?"
    Errand sighed sadly. "Yes," he said.
    "Don't waste your sympathy on him," Beldin said. "He got exactly what he deserved."
    "Nobody deserves that."
    Beldin gave a snort of ugly laughter. "He's lucky that it was Belgarath who caught up with him. If it had been me, I'd have done a lot more than just seal him up inside solid rock. But that's beside the point. You remember why Zedar found you and took you with him?"
    "To steal the Orb of Aldur."
    "Right. So far as we know, you're the only person beside Belgarion who can touch the Orb and keep on living. Other people know that, too, so you might as well get used to the idea of being watched. We are not going to let you wander around alone where somebody might get his hands on you. Now, you didn't answer my question."
    "Which question?"
    "What are you doing all the way down in this part of the Vale?"
    "There's something I need to see."
    "What's that?"
    "I don't know. It's up ahead somewhere. What is it that's off in that direction?"
    "There's nothing out there but the tree."
    "That must be it, then. It wants to see me."
    "See?"
    "Maybe that's the wrong word."
    Beldin scowled at him. "Are you sure it's the tree?"
    "No. Not really. All I know is that something in that direction has been-" Errand hesitated. "I want to say inviting me to come by. Would that be the proper word?"
    "It's talking to you, not me. Pick any word you like. All right, let's go then."
    "Would you like to ride?" Errand offered. "Horse can carry us both."
    "Haven't you given him a name yet?"
    "Horse is good enough. He doesn't seem to feel that he needs one. Would you like to ride?"
    "Why would I want to ride when I can fly?"
    Errand felt a sudden curiosity. "What's it like?" he asked. "Flying, I mean?"
    Beldin's eyes suddenly changed, to become distant and almost soft. "You couldn't even begin to imagine," he said. "Just keep your eyes on me. When I get over the tree, I'll circle to show you where it is." He stooped in the tall grass, curved out his arms, and gave a strong leap. As he rose into the air, he shimmered into feathers and swooped away.
    The tree stood in solitary immensity in the middle of a broad meadow, its trunk larger than a house, its wide-spread branches shading entire acres, and its crown rising hundreds of feet into the air. It was incredibly ancient. Its roots reached down almost into the very heart of the world, and its branches touched the sky. It stood alone and silent, as if forming a link between earth and sky, a link whose purpose was beyond the understanding of man.
    As Errand rode up to the vast shaded area beneath the tree's shelter, Beldin swooped in, hovered, and dropped, almost seeming to stumble into his natural form. "All right," he growled, "there it is. Now what?"
    "I'm not sure." Errand slid down off the horse's back and walked across the soft, springy turf toward the immense trunk. The sense of the tree's awareness was very strong now, and Errand approached it curiously, still unable to determine exactly what it wanted with him.
    Then he put out his hand and touched the rough bark; in the instant that he touched it, he understood. He quite suddenly knew the whole of the tree's existence. He found that he could look back over a million million mornings to the time when the world had just emerged out of the elemental