Magician’s Gambit (The Belgariad Book 3) by David Eddings

Author:David Eddings [Eddings, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spectrum Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2016-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“Is he going to be all right?” Barak asked anxiously, hovering over the still-unconscious Durnik as Aunt Pol examined the large purple contusion on the side of the smith’s face.

“It’s nothing serious,” she replied in a voice seeming to droop with a great weariness.

Garion sat nearby with his head in his hands. He felt as if all the strength had been wrenched out of his body.

Beyond the heaped coals of the rapidly dying bonfire, Silk and Hettar were struggling to remove Mandorallen’s dented breastplate. A deep crease running diagonally from shoulder to hip gave mute evidence of the force of Grul’s blow and placed so much stress on the straps beneath the shoulder plates that they were almost impossible to unfasten.

“I think we’re going to have to cut them,” Silk said.

“I pray thee, Prince Kheldar, avoid that if possible,” Mandorallen answered, wincing as they wrenched at the fastenings. “Those straps are crucial to the fit of the armor, and are most difficult to replace properly.”

“This one’s coming now,” Hettar grunted, prying at a buckle with a short iron rod. The buckle released suddenly and the taut breastplate rang like a softly struck bell.

“Now I can get it,” Silk said, quickly loosening the other shoulder buckle.

Mandorallen sighed with relief as they pulled off the dented breastplate. He took a deep breath and winced again.

“Tender right here?” Silk asked, putting his fingers lightly to the right side of the knight’s chest. Mandorallen grunted with pain, and his face paled visibly. “I think you’ve got some cracked ribs, my splendid friend,” Silk told him. “You’d better have Polgara take a look.”

“In a moment,” Mandorallen said. “My horse?”

“He’ll be all right,” Hettar replied. “A strained tendon in his right foreleg is all.”

Mandorallen let out a sigh of relief. “I had feared for him.”

“I feared for us all there for a while,” Silk said. “Our oversized playmate there was almost more than we could handle.”

“Good fight, though,” Hettar remarked.

Silk gave him a disgusted look, then glanced up at the scudding gray clouds overhead. He jumped across the glowing coals of their fire and went over to where Belgarath sat staring into the icy river. “We’re going to have to get off this bar, Belgarath,” he urged. “The weather’s going bad on us again, and we’ll all freeze to death if we stay out here in the middle of the river tonight.”

“Leave me alone,” Belgarath muttered shortly, still staring at the river.

“Polgara?” Silk turned to her.

“Just stay away from him for a while,” she told him. “Go find a sheltered place for us to stay for a few days.”

“I’ll go with you,” Barak offered, hobbling toward his horse.

“You’ll stay here,” Aunt Pol declared firmly. “You creak like a wagon with a broken axle. I want to have a look at you before you get a chance to damage yourself permanently.”

“I know a place,” Ce’Nedra said, rising and pulling her cloak about her shoulders. “I saw it when we were coming down the river. I’ll show you.

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