King of The Murgos

beneath the thin topsoil and its tenacious cover of grass. The wind sheeted across that grass, tossing it like waves, and the rain, mingled with icy sleet, raked at it. "Urgit," the old man said, "are there any villages or settlements hereabouts?"
    Urgit wiped his face and looked around. "I don't think so," he replied. "The maps don't show anything in this part of Cthaka except the high road leading inland. We might stumble across some isolated farmstead, but I doubt it. The soil here is too thin for crops, and the winters are too severe for cattle."
    The old man nodded gloomily. "That's more or less what I thought."
    "We might be able to pitch the tents," Durnik said, "but we'll be right out in the open, and there's no firewood anywhere out there."
    Eriond had been patiently sitting astride his stallion, staring out at the featureless landscape with a peculiar look of recognition. "Couldn't we take shelter in the watchtower?" he asked.
    "What watchtower?" Belgarath asked him, looking around again, "I don't see anything."
    "You can't see it from here. It's mostly all tumbled down. The cellar's still all right, though."
    "I don't know of any watchtowers on this coast," Urgit said.
    "It hasn't been used for a long time."
    "Where, Eriond?" Polgara asked. "Can you show us where it is?"
    "Of course. It's not too far." The young man turned his stallion and angled up toward the very top of the headland. As they climbed the hill, Garion looked down and saw a fair number of stone blocks protruding up out of the grass. It was difficult to say for sure, but at least some of those blocks bore what looked vaguely like chisel marks.
    When they reached the top, the gale shrieked around them, and the tossing grass whipped at their horses' legs.
    "Are you sure, Eriond?" Polgara shouted over the wind.
    "We can get in from the other side," he replied confidently. "It might be better to lead the horses, though. The entrance is fairly close to the edge of the bluff." He slid out of his saddle and led the way across the grassy, rounded top of the hill. The rest of them followed him. "Be careful here," he warned, moving around a slight depression. "Part of the roof is sagging a bit."
    Just past that grass-covered depression was a bank that angled steeply downward to a narrow ledge. Beyond that, the bluff broke away sharply. Eriond picked his way down the bank and led his horse along the ledge. Garion followed him; when he reached the ledge, he glanced over the edge of the bluff. Far below, he saw the wreck lying on the beach. A broad line of footprints stretched away from it at the water's edge to disappear in the rain.
    "Here it is," Eriond said. Then he disappeared, leading his horse, it seemed, directly into the grass-covered bank.
    The rest of them followed curiously and found a narrow, arched opening that had quite obviously been built by human hands. The long grass above and on each side of the arch had grown over it until it was barely visible. Gratefully, Garion pushed his way through that grass-obscured opening into a calm, musty-smelling darkness.
    "Did anyone think to bring any torches?" Sadi asked.
    "They were with the food-packs, I'm afraid," Durnik apologized. "Here, let's see what I can do." Garion felt a light surge and heard a faint rushing sound. A dimly glowing spot of light appeared, balanced on the palm of Durnik's hand. Gradually that dim light grew until they could see the interior of the ancient ruin. Like so many structures that had been built in antiquity, this low-ceilinged cellar was vaulted. Stone arches supported the ceiling, and the walls were solidly buttressed. Garion had seen precisely the same construction in King Anheg's eons-old palace in Val Alorn, in the ruins of Vo Wacune, in the lower floors of his own Citadel at Riva, and even in the echoing tomb of the one-eyed God in Cthol Mishrak.
    Silk was looking speculatively at Eriond. "I'm sure you have an explanation," he said. "How did you know that this place was here?"
    "I lived here for a while with Zedar. It was while he was waiting until I'd grow old enough to steal the Orb."
    Silk looked slightly disappointed. "How prosaic," he said.
    "I'm sorry," Eriond said as he led the horses over to one side of the vaulted room. "Would you like to have me make up some kind of story for you instead?
    Never mind, Eriond," the little man told him. Urgit had been examining one of the buttresses. "No Murgo ever built this," he declared. "The stones fit too