White Gold Wielder Part 17

That memory compelled him to risk her ire. More harshly than he intended, he began, "I thought I told you*"

"And I told you," she retorted, "to leave me alone. I don't need you to mother me."

But he faced her squarely, forced her to recognize his concern. After a moment, her belligerence failed. Frowning, she turned her head away. "You don't have to worry about it,"

she sighed. "I know what I'm doing. It helps me concentrate."

"Helps*?" He did not know how to understand her.

"Sunder was right," she responded. This is the worst*the sun of pestilence. It sucks at me*or soaks into me. I don't know how to describe it I become it It becomes me." The simple act of putting her plight into words made her shudder. This is the worst*the sun of pestilence. It sucks at me*or soaks into me. I don't know how to describe it I become it It becomes me." The simple act of putting her plight into words made her shudder.

Deliberately, she raised her hand, studied her hurt finger.

"The pain. The way it scares me. It helps make the distinction.

It keeps me separate."

Covenant nodded. What else could he do? Her vulnerability had become terrible to him. Huskily, he said, "Don't let it get too bad." Then he made another attempt to force food down into his knotted stomach.

The rest of the day was atrocious. And the next day was worse. But early in the evening, amid the screaming of numberless cicadas and the piercing frustration of huge, smoke- daunted mosquitoes, the company reached a region of hills where wide boulders still protruded from the surrounding mora.s.s of moss and ground ivy. That proved to be a fortuitous camping place; for when the sun rose again, it was wreathed in dusty brown.

After only two days.

The elevation of the rocks protected the travelers from the effect of the desert sun on the putrifying vegetation.

Everything that the fertile sun had produced and the sun of pestilence had blighted might as well have been made of wax. The brown-clad sun melted it all, reduced every form of plant fiber, every kind of sap or juice, every monstrous insect to a necrotic gray sludge. The few bushes in the area (132 of 399) [1/19/03 11:38:42 PM]

slumped like overheated candles; moss and ivy sprawled into spilth that formed turbid pools in the low places of the terrain; the bugs of dawn fell like clotted drops of rain. Then the sludge denatured as if the desert sun drank it away.

Long before midmorning, every slope and hollow and span of ground had been burned to naked ruin and dust.

For the Giants, that process was more horrible than anything else they had seen. Until now, only the scale of the Sunbane's power had been staggering. Verdure grew naturally, and insects and rot could be included in the normal range of experience. But nothing had prepared Covenant's companions for the quick and entire destruction of so much prodigious vegetation and pestilence.

Staring about her, the First breathed, "Ah, Cable Seadreamer! There is no cause for wonder that you lacked voice to utter such visions. The wonder is that you endured to bear them at all*and that you bore them in loneliness."

Pitchwife clung to her as if he were reeling inwardly. Open nausea showed in Mistweave's face. He had learned to doubt himself, and now the things he could no longer trust covered all the world. But Honninscrave's deep eyes flamed hotly*

the eyes of a man who knew now beyond question that he was on the right path.

Grimly, Linden demanded a knife from Pitchwife. For a moment, he could not answer her. "But at last the First stirred, turned from the harsh vista of the waste; and her husband turned with her.

Dazedly, Pitchwife gave Linden his blade. She used its tip to lance her infected finger. With vitrim, she cleansed the wound thoroughly, then bound it in a light bandage. When she was done, she lifted her head; and her gaze was as intense as Honninscrave's. Like him, she now appeared eager to go forward.

Or like High Lord Elena, who had been driven by inextricable abhorrence and love, and by l.u.s.t for power, to the mad act of breaking the Law of Death. After only three days under the Sunbane, Linden appeared capable of such things.

Soon the company started southwestward again across a wasteland which had become little more than an anvil for the fierce brutality of the sun.

It brought back more of the past to Covenant. Heat-haze as thick as hallucination and dust bleached to the color of 164.

White Gold Wielder dismay made his memories vivid. He and Linden had been summoned to Kevin's Watch during a day of rain; but that (133 of 399) [1/19/03 11:38:42 PM]

night Sander's father, Na.s.sic, had been murdered, and the next day had arisen a desert sun*and Covenant and Linden had encountered a Raver amid the hostility of Mithil Stone- ' down.

Many of the consequences had fallen squarely upon Sunder's shoulders. As the Stonedown's Graveler, he had already been required to shed the lives of his own wife and son so that their blood would serve the village. Afld then the Raver's actions had cost him his father, had compelled him to sacrifice his friend, Marid, to the Sunbane, and had faced him with the necessity of bleeding his mother to death. Such things had driven him to flee his duty for the sake of the Unbeliever and the Chosen*and for his own sake, so that he would be spared the responsibility of more killing.

Yet during that same desert sun Covenant's life had also been changed radically. The corruption of that sun had made Marid monstrous enough to inflict the Despiser's malice. Out in the wasteland of the South Plains, Marid had nailed venom between the bones of Covenant's forearm, crucifying him to the fate Lord Foul had prepared for him.

The fate of fire. In a nightmare of wild magic, his own terrible love and grief tore down the world.

The sun would sot let him thiak of anything else. The company had adequate supplies of water, diamondraught, and food; and when the haze took on the attributes of vertigo, leeched the strength out of Covenant's legs, Honninscrave carried him. Foamfollower had done the same for him more than once, bearing him along the way of hope and doom. But now there was only haze and vertigo and despair*and the remorseless hammer-blow of the sun.

That phase of the Sunbane also lasted for only two days.

But it was succeeded by another manifestation of pestilence.

The red-tinged heat was less severe. The stricken Plains contained nothing which could rot. And here the insect life was confined to creatures that made their homes in the ground. Yet this sun was arduous and bitter after its own fashion. It brought neither moisture nor shade up out of the waste. And before it ended, the travelers began to encounter stag beetles and scorpions as big as wolves among the low bills. But the First's sword kept such threats at bay. And 165.

whenever Honninscrave and Mistweave took on the added weight of Covenant and Linden, the company made good speed.

hi spite of their native hardiness, the Giants were growing weary, worn down by dust and heat and distance. But after the second day of pestilence came a sun of rain. Standing on stone to meet the dawn, the companions felt a new coolness against their faces as the sun rose ringed in blue like a con- (134 of 399) [1/19/03 11:38:42 PM]

centration of the sky's deep azure. Then, almost immediately, black clouds began to pile westward.

Covenant's heart lifted at the thought of rain. But as the wind stiffened, plucking insistently at his unclean hair and beard, he remembered how difficult it was to travel under such a sun. He turned to the First "We're going to need rope."

The wind hummed in his ears. "So we don't lose each other."

Linden was staring toward the southwest as if the idea of Revelstone consumed all her thoughts. Distantly, she said, The rain isn't dangerous. But there's going to be so much of it"

The First glared at the clouds, nodded. Mistweave unslung his bundles and dug out a length of line.

The rope was too heavy to be tied around Covenant and Linden without hampering them. As the first raindrops. .h.i.t, heavy as pebbles, the Swordmain knotted the line to her own waist, then strung it back through the formation of the company to Mistweave. who anch.o.r.ed, it.

For a moment, she scanned the terrain to fix her bearings in her mind. Then she started into the darkening storm.

As loud as a rabble, the rain rushed out of the east. The clouds spanned the horizons, blocking the last light. Gloom fell like water into Covenant's eyes. Already, he could barely discern the First at the head of the company. Pitchwife's misshapen outlines were blurred. The wind leaned against Covenant's left shoulder. His boots began to slip under him, Without transition, soil as desiccated as centuries of desert changed to mud and clay. Instant pools spread across the ground. The downpour became as heavy as cudgels. Blindly, he clung to the rope.

It led into a blank abyss of rain. The world was reduced to this mad drenching lash and roar, this battering cold. He should have retrieved his robe before the rain started: his T-shirt was meaningless against the torrents. How could 166.

White Gold Wielder there be so much water, when for days the North Plains and all the Land had been desperately athirst? Only Pitchwife's shape remained before him, badly smudged but still solid*

the only solid thing left except the rope. When he tried to look around toward Call, Mistweave, Vain, and Findail, the storm hit him full in the face. It was a doomland he wandered because he had failed to find any answer to his dreams.

Eventually, even Pitchwife was gone. The staggering downpour dragged every vestige of light and vision out of the air.

His hands numb with leprosy and cold. Covenant could only be sure of the rope by clamping it under his elbow, leaning his weight on it. Long after he had begun to believe that the ordeal should be given up, that the company should find some shelter and simply huddle there while the storm lasted, the (135 of 399) [1/19/03 11:38:42 PM]

line went on drawing him forward.

But then, as suddenly as the summons which had changed his life, a pressure Jerked back on the rope, hauled it to a stop; and he nearly fell. While he stumbled for balance, the line went slack.

Before he recovered, something heavy blundered against him, knocked him into the mire.

The storm had a strange timbre, as if people were shouting around him.

Almost at once, huge hands took hold of him, heaved him to his feet. A Giant: Pitchwife. He was pushed a few steps toward the rear of the formation, then gripped to a halt.

The rain was at his back. He saw three people in front of him. They all looked like Call.

One of them caught his arm, put a mouth to bis ear. Cail's voice reached him dimly through the roar.

"Here are Dun-is and Pole of the Haruchai They have come with others of our people to oppose the Clave!"

Rain pounded at Covenant; wind reeled through him.

"Where's Sunder?" he cried. "Where's HolUan?"

Blurred in the fury of the torrents, two more figures became discernible. One of them seemed to hold out an object toward Covenant.

From it, a white light sprang through the storm, piercing the darkness. Incandescence shone from a clear gem which had been forged into a long dagger, at the cross where blade and hilt came together. Its heat sizzled the rain; but the light itself burned as if no rain could touch it The Defenders of the Land 167 The krill of Loric.

It illuminated all the faces around Covenant: Call and his kinfolk, Durris and Fole; Mistweave flanked by Vain and Findail; Pitchwife; the First and Honninscrave crowding forward with Linden between them. And the two people who had brought the krill.

Sunder, son of Na.s.sic, Graveler from Mithil Stonedown.

Hollian Amith-daughter, eh-Brand.

EIGHT.

The Defenders of the Land

THE torrents came down like thunder. The rain was full of voices Covenant could not Aear. Sunder's lips moved, made no sound. Hollian blinked at the water streaming her face as if she did not know whether to laugh or weep.

Covenant wanted to go to them, throw his arms around them in sheer relief that they were alive; but the light of the krill held him back. He did not know what it meant. The venom (136 of 399) [1/19/03 11:38:42 PM]

in his forearm ached to take hold of it and b.u.m.

Cail spoke directly into Covenant's ear again. "The Graveler asks if your quest has succeeded!"

At that. Covenant covered his face, pressed the ring's imminent heat against the bones of his skull. The rain was too much for him; suppressed weeping knotted his chest. He had been so eager to find Sunder and Hollian safe that he had never considered what the ruin of the quest would mean to them.

The First's hearing was keener than his. Sunder's query had reached her. She focused her voice to answer him through the roar. "The quest has failed!" The words were raw with 168 strain. "Cable Seadreamer is slaini We have come seeking another hope!"

The full shout of Sunder's reply was barely audible. "You will find none here!"

Then the light receded: the Graveler had turned away.

Holding the krill high to guide the company, he moved off into the storm.

Covenant dropped his hands like a cry he could not utter.

For an instant, no one followed Sunder. Silhouetted against the krill's shining, Hollian stood before Covenant and Linden.

He hardly saw what she was doing as she came to him, gave him a tight hug of welcome. Before he was able to respond, she left him to embrace Linden.

Yet her brief gesture helped him pull himself together. It felt like an act of forgiveness*or an affirmation that his return and Linden's were more important than hope. When Cail urged him after the light, he pushed his numb limbs into motion.

They were in a low place between hills. Gathered water reached almost to his knees. But its current ran in the direction he was going, and Cail bore him up. The Haruchai seemed more certain than ever. It must have been the mental communion of his people which bad drawn Durris and Fole, with the Stonedownors behind them, toward the company.

And now Cail was no longer alone. Mud and streams and rain could not make him miss his footing. He supported Covenant like a figure of granite.

Covenant had lost all sense of his companions; but he was not concerned. He trusted the other Haruchai as he trusted Cail. Directing his attention to the struggle for movement, he followed Sunder as quickly as his imbalance and fatigue allowed.

The way seemed long and harsh in the clutches of the storm. At last, however, be and Call neared an impression of rock and saw Sunder's krill-light reflecting wetly off the edges of a wide entrance to a cave. Sunder went directly in, used the argent heat of the krill to set a ready pile of wood afire.

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Then he rewrapped the blade and tucked it away within his leather jerkin.

The flames were dimmer than the krill, but they spread illumination around a larger area, revealing bundles of wood 169 and bedding stacked against the walls. The Stonedownors and Haruchai had already established a camp here.

The cave was high but shallow, hardly more than a depression m the side of a hUL The angle of the ceiling's overhang let rainwater run inward and drizzle to the floor, with the result that the cave was damp and the fire, not easily kept alight But even that relative shelter was a balm to Covenant's battered nerves. He stood over the. flames and tried to rub the dead chill out of his skin, watching Sunder while the company arrived to join him.

Durris brought the four Giants. Pole guided Linden as if he had already arrogated to himself Mistweave's chosen place at her side. Vain and Findail came of their own accord, though they did not move far enough into the cave to avoid the lashing rain. And Hollian was accompanied by Harn, the Haruchai who had taken the eh-Brand under his care in the days when Covenant had rescued them from the hold of Revelstone and the Banefire.

Covenant stared at him. When Sunder and Hollian had left Seareach to begin their mission against the Clave, Ham had gone with them. But not alone: they had also been accompanied by Stell, the Haruchai who had watched over Sunder.

Where was Stell?

No, more than that; worse than that. Where were the men and women of the Land, the villagers Sunder and Hollian had gone to muster? And where were the rest of the HaruchaH After the heinous slaughter which the Gave had wrought upon their people, why had only Durris and Fole been sent to give battle?

You will find none here.

Had the na-Mhoram already won?

Gaping at Sunder across the guttering fire. Covenant moved his jaw. but no words came. In the cover of the cave, the storm was m.u.f.fled but incessant*fierce and hungry as a great beast And Sunder was changed. In spite of all the blood his role as the Graveler of Mithil Stonedown had forced him to shed, he had never looked like a man who knew how to kill. But he did now.

When Covenant had first met him, the Stonedownor's youthful features had been strangely confused and conflicted 170.

White Gold Wielder (138 of 399) [1/19/03 11:38:42 PM]

by the unresolved demands of his duty. His father had taught him that the world was not what the Riders claimed it to be *a punishment for human offense*and so be had never learned to accept or forgive the acts which the rule of the Clave and the stricture of the Sunbane required him to commit. Unacknowledged revulsion had marked his forehead; his eyes had been worn dull by acc.u.mulated remorse; his teeth had ground together, chewing the bitter gristle of his irreconciliation. But now he appeared as honed and whetted as the poniard he had once used to take the lives of the people he loved. His eyes gleamed like daggers in the firelight. And all his movements were tense with coiled anger*a savage and baffled rage that he could not utter.