Sorceress of Darshiva

them. Try not to kill any more of them than you absolutely have to."
    "That gets right to the point, doesn't it?" Zakath said wryly to Garion.
    "There's no sense in trying to surprise them, I suppose?" Belgarath asked Beldin.
    The dwarf shook his head. "They'll see you coming for at least a half a mile." He went to the side of the road, wrenched a half-rotten stump out of the ground, and pounded it against a rock until all the decayed wood had been knocked loose. The gnarled taproot made a fearsome-looking cudgel.
    "Well, I guess we'd better go have a look," Belgarath said bleakly.
    They rode on to the crest of the hill and looked down the road toward the barricade and the troops standing behind it. Zakath peered at them. "Darshivans," he said.
    "How can you tell from this distance?" Silk asked him.
    "By the shape of their helmets." The Mallorean narrowed his eyes. "Darshivan soldiers are not notoriously brave and they get very little in the way of training. Do you think there might be some way we can lure them out from behind that barricade?"
    Garion looked down at the soldiers crouched behind their logs. "I'd say they've been told not to let anybody past," he said. "What if we charge them and then at the last minute swing out and around them? They'll run for their horses. Then we turn around and charge back at them. They'll be confused and milling around, and we'll be able to pin them up against their own barricade. It shouldn't be too hard to put a fair number of them on the ground. The rest should run at that point."
    "That's not a bad plan, Garion. You're quite a tactician. Have you had any formal military training?"
    "No. I just picked it up."
    In a land of brittle, dead trees, a lance was quite out of the question, so Garion strapped his shield to his left arm and drew his sword.
    "All right," Belgarath said, "let's give it a try. It might hold down the casualties."
    "One other thing," Silk added. "I think we should make a special point of not letting any of them get on a horse. A man on foot can't go for help very fast. If we run off their horses, we can be out of the area before they can bring in reinforcements."
    "I'll take care of that," Belgarath said. "All right. Let's go-" They urged their horses into a gallop and charged down die road toward the barricade, brandishing their weapons. As they pounded down the hill, Garion saw Zakath pulling a curious-looking leather half-glove clad with steel onto his right hand.
    Just before they reached the barricade and the alarmed soldiers standing behind it, they veered sharply to the left, then galloped around the obstruction and back onto the road.
    "After them!" a black-robed Grolim screamed at the startled troops. "Don't let them escape!"
    Garion rode on past the soldiers' picketed horses, then wheeled Chretienne around. He charged back with the others close on his heels and rode full into the face of the confused Darshivans. He did not really want to kill any of diem, so he laid about him with the flat of the blade rather than the edge. He put three of them down as he crashed through their ranks; behind him he could hear the sound of blows and cries of pain. The Grolim rose before him, and he could feel the black-robed man drawing in his will. He did not falter, but simply rode the priest down. Then he wheeled again. Toth was laying about him with his heavy staff, and Durnik was busily caving in helmets with the butt Of his axe. Zakath, however, was leaned far over in his saddle. He had no weapon in his hand but rather was smashing his metal-clad fist into the faces of the Darshivan soldiers. The glove appeared to be quite effective.
    Then, from where the soldiers' horses were picketed, there came a blood-curdling howl. The great silver wolf was snapping and snarling at the horses. They lunged back in panic, the picket rope snapped, and they fled.
    "Let's go!" Garion shouted to his friends, and they galloped once again through the center of the Darshivans and on down the road to rejoin Polgara, Ce'Nedra, Velvet, and Eriond. Belgarath loped after them, then changed into his own form and walked back to his horse.
    "It seems to have worked more or less the way we'd planned," Zakath noted. He was panting, and his forehead was dewed with sweat. "I seem to be a bit out of condition, though," he added.
    "Too much sitting down," Silk said. "What's that thing you’ve got on your hand?"
    "It's called a cestus," the Mallorean replied, pulling it off. "I'm a little rusty