Daughter of Regals (16 page)

When they were satisfied, Korik
encountered Tull.

He was gratified by the strength of Tull’s
metal. In many ways, Tull was still an untried Bloodguard; and because of this,
Korik attacked him relentlessly. But Tull quickly showed that over the
generations the
Haruchai
had not been content with old skills: they had
developed new counters and blows, new feints and angles of attack. In moments,
Korik was pushed to his limits, and Tull seemed to have the upper hand. But
Korik had experienced conflict against many different and versatile opponents.
He learned swiftly. When an unusual feint caught him, knocked him back, he spun
and twisted, avoided the fall which would have signalled his defeat. Then he
met Tull with the same feint. The blow stretched Tull on the rough floor, and
the trial was over.

Tull bounded to his feet, stood with the
other Bloodguard facing Korik.

— Fist and faith, they said: We are
Bloodguard.
Tan-Haruchai
.

—
Tan-Haruchai
, Korik
acknowledged. He bowed slightly to his comrades, and they followed him from the
chamber. Among them, he was the only one whose pulse or breathing had
quickened; but outwardly he revealed nothing of the trial of leadership.

When his company regained the main halls
of Revelstone, they separated to gather supplies. For themselves they would
carry nothing but raiment and long coils of
clingor
, the adhesive
leather rope which had been introduced to the Land by the Giants. They bore no
weapons. And, in part because of their Vow, they needed little food: as long as
the hardy
aliantha
grew and ripened throughout the Land in all seasons,
the Bloodguard required no other sustenance. But the Lords would need more equipage:
food and drink,
lillianrill
rods for torches, some
graveling
,
bedding, cookware, a few knives and other utensils. Such things the Bloodguard
would carry on their backs, so that Shetra and Hyrim would not be wearied by
packs. Other resources Korik left to the Lords. He took care of the needs
within his power.

Those which were not did not trouble him.
He had no answer for Lord Shetra’s dour dismay — though he had paid for centuries
the cost of the yearning between a man and a woman —and so he stood aloof from
it; He had no hand in the unvoiced fear which caused Lord Hyrim to ask Thomas
Covenant’s company in defiance of the High Lord’s wishes: therefore he made no
effort to sway or deny the Unbeliever. And he fended away all questions which
ranged beyond the ambit of his certainty. Fist and faith. Succeed or die. Aided
by the native flatness of his features, he bore himself as if he possessed no
emotions which might be touched.

Yet he grieved for Shetra and respected
Hyrim. He judged the Unbeliever coldly. And the arrival of the Ranyhyn,
seventeen of the great horses of Ra with their starred foreheads and their
strange responsive fidelity, thundering forward in the first hint of day in
answer to his call — that pride and beauty was a hymn in his heart. He was
Haruchai
and Bloodguard. His people had shown in their Vow how extremely they could be
touched.

Thus now there was a special revelling in
him as Brabha bore him down out of the foothills of Lord’s Keep into the lower
plains, the easy farmlands which spread for leagues on all the eastern slopes.
There he and his companions began to encounter brief villages — small clustered
Stonedowns and an occasional Woodhelven in the old spread banyan trees which
dotted this part of the plains, homes for the farmers and artisans who, despite
their vital share in the life of Revelstone, preferred not to live in that
massed habitation. In the dim dawn light, the riders slowed their pace to a
more cautious trot, so that they ran no risk of trampling a groggy farmer or
child. But when the sun came up fully, the Ranyhyn greeted it with glad
nickering, as if they were welcoming an old dear friend, and stretched their
strides again.

In the fresh day, the country side shone
as if it were oblivious to the looming threat of blood. Ripe wheat rippled like
sheets of gold in some of the fields; and in others cut hay was stacked into
high fragrant mowes. Over them, the air blew its autumn nip: the breeze carried
the smells of the crops like a counterpoint to the morning enthusiasm of the
birds. The farmland seemed to defy the spectre which hunted it. Korik knew
better: he had seen land as fair as this helpless to withstand fire and
trampling and the thick unhealthy drench of blood. But he did not forget, could
never forget, the heart-wrench of beauty which had in part brought the
Haruchai
to their Vow. It baffled expression, surpassed any language but its own. He
understood the overflowing mood which caused Lord Hyrim to throw back his head
and sing as if he were crowing.

Hail! Weal!

Land and
Life!

Pulse of
power in tree and stone!

Earth-heart-blood

vital, vivid
surge

in pith and
rock!

Sun-warmth

balm-bliss
bless

all air and
sea and lung and life!

Land’s soul’s
beauty!

Skyweir

Earthroot

weal!

Hail!’

The song had a strange power to catch its
hearers, as if it actively desired them to join it; and Lord Hyrim relished it.
But Shetra did not smile or sing or even look toward Hyrim. She rode on grimly,
as if the war were already upon her. This also Korik understood. He sat between
them comprehending and mute.

Thus they rode through the morning until
the swift roaming gait of the Ranyhyn had placed most of the fields and
villages behind them and the terrain began to give hints of its coming
roughness. Lord Hyrim alternately sang and talked as if all the countryside
were his enchanted audience; but Lord Shetra and the Bloodguard moved in their
private silences.

Then towards
noon
they stopped
beside a stream to give the Lords rest and the Ranyhyn chance to graze; Hyrim’s
awkward dismount confirmed an impression which had been growing on Korik:
although the Lord had been freely chosen by the Ranyhyn, he was an unusually
poor rider. Even an inexperienced person could sit safely on a Ranyhyn if he
left himself in the horse’s care. And Lord Hyrim was not inexperienced. Yet he
rode with erratic jerks,  as if repeatedly he lost his balance and nearly fell.
His dismount was only half a matter of choice. Korik thought of the hard riding
ahead and winced inwardly.

— He has always ridden thus, Sill
answered. His balance is faulty. Almost the tests of the Sword in the Loresraat
defeated him, prevented him from Lordship.

—Yet the Ranyhyn selected him, Korik
mused.

—Their judgement is sure.

—Yes, Korik replied after a moment. And
his Ranyhyn knows the danger.

Nevertheless he felt anxiety. He wondered
if the High Lord had known of Hyrim’s deficiency as a rider. If she had, why
had she chosen him? However, such questions were not within Korik’s
responsibility, and he recited his Vow to Silence them. The mission would give
him the measure of Lord Hyrim’s fitness.

Hyrim himself was obviously aware of the
problem. He limped ruefully away from the Ranyhyn and dropped fiat on his
stomach to drink from the stream. After a long draught, he pushed himself onto
his back, spat a last mouthful of water over the grass, and groaned, ‘By the
Seven! Is it only
noon
? Half of one day? Friend Korik, how long will
we require to gain Seareach?’

Korik shrugged. ‘Perhaps less than a
score of days — if we are not delayed.’

‘A score —?
Melenkurion!
Then let
us pray that we are not delayed. A score of days’ — he sat up with a huge show
of difficulty ‘will leave me eighteen in my grave.’

‘Then,’ said Shetra sourly, ‘we will be
the first folk in life to hear a dead man complain for eighteen days.’

At this, Lord Hyrim fell back to the
grass, laughing gleefully.

When his mirth had subsided, he rolled
his eyes at Shetra and attempted to stand up smoothly, as if he were not sore
and tired.

But he could not do it: a spasm of strain
broke across his face, and he started to laugh again, as if his own pretensions
were the most innocent entertainment imaginable. Still chuckling, he limped a
way to a nearby
aliantha
and fed himself on the viridian berries of the
gnarled bush, savouring their crisp tangy flavour and the rush of nourishment
they gave him. Scrupulously, he observed the custom of the Land by scattering
the seeds around him, so that new bushes might grow. Then with a flourish he
indicated his readiness to ride on. In moments, the company was mounted again
and cantering eastward.

As they travelled, they moved into
sterner countryside, land which was only hospitable to people who knew how to
husband it. And they met with fewer villages. By evening, they were beyond the
range of Revelstone’s immediate influence; and before the gloaming had
thickened into darkness they had passed the last human habitation between that
region and
Grimmerdhore
Forest
. Yet they
did not stop, though Lord Hyrim suggested the possibility with a genuine
yearning in his voice. Korik kept the company riding in spite of Hyrim’s
groans. So they continued into the night, trusting the Ranyhyn to find their
way. Moonrise was near when Lord Shetra said in a low, measured tone, ‘Now we
must rest. We must have strength for the morrow and Grimmerdhore.’ Korik
agreed: he did not miss the point of her glance toward Hyrim.

When his mount finally came to a halt,
Lord Hyrim fell off as if he were already unconscious, moaning in his sleep.

— Is his pain severe? Korik asked Sill.

— No, Sill responded. He is unaccustomed.
He will recover. But he will have difficulty in Grimmerdhore.

Korik nodded. He said farewell to Brabha
for the night and began unwrapping the bundle on his back. The other Bloodguard
followed his example: soon all the Ranyhyn had galloped away to feed and rest,
and to keep a distant watch over the camp. When the
lillianrill
rods
were unpacked, Lord Shetra used one to start a small campfire. With some of the
supplies Korik had brought, she cooked a sparse meal. While she ate, she
watched Lord Hyrim as if she expected the smell of the food to rouse him. But
he remained face down on the grass, whimpering softly from time to time.
Finally, she went to him and nudged him with her foot.

He shoved himself up sharply, clutched
his staff as if he had been snatched out of sleep to face an attack. For a
dazed instant, his lips. trembled, and his eyes rolled widely. But when he
gained his feet, he awoke enough to see where he was. The fear faded from his
face, leaving it grey and weak. Heavily, he shambled to the fire, sat down, and
ate what Shetra had left for him.

However, the food seemed to meet his
needs. Soon he recovered enough cheerfulness to groan, ‘Sister Shetra, you are
not a good cook.’

When she made no reply, he stretched
himself on his back by the fire, sighing plaintively, ‘Ah, agony!’ For a time,
he stared at the way the flames danced without consuming along the special wood
of the
lillianrill
. Then he turned his face to the sky and said gruffly,
Friends, I had bethought me of fit revenge against those who gave to me this
unendurable ride. Since
noon
, I have been full of dire promises — in
place of food, I think. But now I am contrite. The fault is mine alone. I have
been a fat thistle-brained fool from the moment the thought of the Loresraat
and Lordship entered my head. Ah, what business had I to dream of Lords and
Giants, of lore and bold undertakings? Better had I been punished severely and
sent to tend sheep for the rest of my days, rather than permitted to follow mad
fancies. But Hoole Gren-mate my father was a kind man, slow to chastise. Alas,
his memory is poorly honoured in my thick self. Were he to see me now, thus
reduced to raw quivering flesh and strengthless bones by one single day astride
the honour of a Ranyhyn, he would have shed great fat tears as a reproach to my
overfed resourcelessness.

‘Then let us rejoice in his absence,’
said Shetra distantly. ‘I do not like tears.’

Hyrim took this up as if it were an
argument. ‘That is well for you. You are brave of blood and limb — in every way
enviably courageous. But I — do you hear the talk of the refectories in
Revelstone? It is said there that my staff is warped — that when this staff was
Made for me by High Lord Osondrea, it felt the touch of my hand and bent itself
in chagrin. By the Seven! I would be offended if only the talk were untrue, I
weep at every opportunity.’

He looked over at Shetra to see if he had
produced any effect. But she appeared to be listening to some other voice, and
she spoke as if to herself ‘Am I?’

‘Are you?’ Hyrim inquired gently. But
when she did not reply, he returned to his badinage. ‘Are you courageous? — is
that your question? Sister Shetra, I assure you! I have proof positive. Who but
a woman with bravery in her very marrow would consent to share such a mission
with me?’