Magician's Gambit

stone face, his arms flailing wildly as Relg pushed him in with a dreadful slowness. As he went deeper into the rock, the surface closed smoothly over him. Relg continued to push, his arms sliding into the stone as he sank the Grolim deeper and deeper. The priest's two protruding hands continued to twitch and writhe, even after the rest of his body had been totally submerged. Then Relg drew his arms out of the stone, leaving the Grolim behind. The two hands sticking out of the rock opened once in mute supplication, then stiffened into dead claws.
    Behind him, Garion could hear the muffled sound of Silk's retching. Barak and Mandorallen had by now engaged two of the remaining Murgos, and the sound of clashing sword blades rang in the chill air. The last Murgo, his eyes wide with fright, wheeled his horse and bolted. Without a word, Durnik jerked his axe free of his saddle and galloped after him. Instead of striking the man down, however, Durnik cut across in front of his opponent's horse, turning him, driving him back. The panic-stricken Murgo flailed at his horse's flanks with the flat of his sword, turning away from the grim-faced smith, and plunged at a dead run back up over the ridge with Durnik close behind him.
    The last two Murgos were down by then, and Barak and Mandorallen, both wild-eyed with the exultation of battle, were looking around for more enemies.
    "Where's that last one?" Barak demanded.
    "Durnik's chasing him," Garion said.
    "We can't let him get away. He'll bring others."
    "Durnik's going to take care of it," Belgarath told him.
    Barak fretted. "Durnik's a good man, but he's not really a warrior. Maybe I'd better go help him."
    From beyond the ridge there was a sudden scream of horror, then another. The third cut off quite suddenly, and there was silence.
    After several minutes, Durnik came riding back alone, his face somber.
    "What happened?" Barak asked. "He didn't get away, did he?"
    Durnik shook his head. "I chased him into the bog, and he ran into some quicksand."
    "Why didn't you cut him down with your axe?"
    "I don't really like hitting people," Durnik replied.
    Silk was staring at Durnik, his face still ashen. "So you just chased him into quicksand instead and then stood there and watched him go down? Durnik, that's monstrous!"
    "Dead is dead," Durnik told him with uncharacteristic bluntness. "When it's over, it doesn't really matter how it happened, does it?" He looked a bit thoughtful. "I am sorry about the horse, though."

Chapter Twenty-four
    THE NEXT MORNING they followed the ridgeline that angled off toward the east. The wintry sky above them was an icy blue, and there was no warmth to the sun. Relg kept his eyes veiled against the light and muttered prayers as he rode to ward off his panic. Several times they saw dust clouds far out on the desolation of sand and salt flats to the south, but they were unable to determine whether the clouds were caused by Murgo patrols or vagrant winds.
    About noon, the wind shifted and blew in steadily from the south. A ponderous cloud, black as ink, blotted out the jagged line of peaks lying along the southern horizon. It moved toward them with a kind of ominous inexorability, and flickers of lightning glimmered in its sooty underbelly.
    "That's a bad storm coming, Belgarath," Barak rumbled, staring at the cloud.
    Belgarath shook his head. "It's not a storm," he replied. "It's ashfall. That volcano out there is erupting again, and the wind's blowing the ash this way."
    Barak made a face, then shrugged. "At least we won't have to worry about being seen, once it starts," he said.
    "The Grolims won't be looking for us with their eyes, Barak," Aunt Pol reminded him.
    Belgarath scratched at his beard. "We'll have to take steps to deal with that, I suppose."
    "This is a large group to shield, father," Aunt Pol pointed out, "and that's not even counting the horses."
    "I think you can manage it, Pol. You were always very good at it."
    "I can hold up my side as long as you can hold up yours, Old Wolf."
    "I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to help you, Pol. Ctuchik himself is looking for us. I've felt him several times already, and I'm going to have to concentrate on him. If he decides to strike at us, he'll come very fast. I'll have to be ready for him, and I can't do that if I'm all tangled up in a shield."
    "I can't do it alone, father," she protested. "Nobody can enclose this many men and horses without help."
    "Garion can help you."
    "Me?" Garion jerked