White Gold Wielder (29 page)

He glanced at the Giants. But Honninscrave’s orbs were hidden beneath the clenched fist of his brows; and Mistweave, Pitchwife, and the First were fixed dh the Stonedownors.

At the mouth of the cave, Cail raised one arm as though in spite of his native dispassion he wished to make a gesture of protest. But then he lowered his hand back to his side.

Abruptly Sunder began speaking again. “Only one village did not accord to us even that chimera of a gift—and it was the last.” His voice was knotted and rough. “From it we have lately come, retracing our way because we had no more hope.

“Our path from village to village led us westward in a crescent-line, so that we passed to the east of Revelstone wending toward the north—toward a place which named itself Landsverge Stonedown. The Woodhelven giving us that knowledge lay perilously nigh the Keep of the na-Mhoram, but Landsverge Stonedown was nigher—and therefore we feared its fear of the Clave would be too great to be countered. Yet when we gained the village, we learned that it would never suffer such fear again.”

He paused, then growled, “It was altogether empty of life. The Riders had gutted it entirely, borne every beating heart away to feed the Banefire. Not one child or cripple remained to be consumed by the Sunbane.”

After that, he stopped—gripped himself still as if he would not be able to say another word without howling.

Hollian gave him a sad hug. “We knew not where to turn,” she said, “so we returned eastward. It was our thought that we must avoid the grasp of the Clave and await you—for surely the Unbeliever and white gold wielder would not fail of his quest”—her tone was candid, but free of sarcasm or accusation—rsssssssssssss “and when he came he would come from the east. In that, at least, we were blessed. Far sooner than we had dared desire, the
Haruchai
became cognizant of your presence and guided us together.” A moment later, she added, “We have been blessed also in the
Haruchai
.”

Linden was no longer facing the loose circle of her companions. She had turned toward Cail and his people; and the lines of her back were tight, insistent. But still she said nothing.

Covenant forced himself to ignore her. The Stonedownors were not done. Apprehension made his tone as trenchant as anger. “How did you meet Durris and Fole?” He could no longer suppress his quivering. “What happened to Stell?”

At that, a spasm passed over Sunder’s face. When the answer came, it came from the eh-Brand.

“Thomas Covenant,” she said, speaking directly to him as if at that moment nothing else mattered, “you have twice redeemed me from the malice of the Clave. And though you reft me of my home in Crystal Stonedown, where I was acknowledged and desired, you have given me a purpose and a love to repair that loss. I do not wish to cause you hurt.”

She glanced at Sunder, then continued, “But this tale also must be told. It is needful.” Stiffening herself to the necessity, she said, “When we passed to the east of Revelstone—tending toward the north—we encountered a band of some score
Haruchai
. With fourscore more of their people, they had come to make answer to the depredations of the Clave. And when they had heard our story, they understood why the people of the Land had not arisen in resistance. Therefore they set themselves a task—to form a cordon around Revelstone, a barrier that would prevent the passage of any Rider. Thus they thought to oppose the Clave—and to starve the Banefire—while they also awaited your return.

“Yet four of them elected to join the purpose of our search. Durris and Fole, whom you see, and also Bern and Toril”—her throat closed momentarily—“who are gone—as Stell is gone. For our ignorance betrayed us.

“It was known to all that the Clave possesses power to dominate minds. By that means were the
Haruchai
ensnared in the past. But none among us knew how great the power had grown. As we traversed the proximity of Revelstone, Bern, Toril, and Stell scouted some distance westward to ensure our safety. We were yet a day’s journey from the Keep, and not Harn, Durris, nor Fole met any harm. But the slightly greater nearness of the others bared them to the Clave’s touch—and to its dominion. Setting aside all caution, they left us to answer that coercion.

“Sensing what had transpired—the utter loss of mind and will—Harn, Durris, and Fole could not give chase, lest they also fall under the na-Mhoram’s sway. But Sunder and I—” The memory made her falter, but she did not permit herself to stop. “We gave pursuit. And we gave battle, striving with
krill
-fire and force to break the hold of the Clave—though in so doing we surely made our presence known to the na-Mhoram, forewarning him of us—and perhaps also of you. Mayhap we would have opposed Stell and his companions to the very gates of Revelstone. We were desperate and fevered. But at the last we halted.” She swallowed convulsively. “For we saw that Bern, Stell, and Toril were not alone. From around the region came a score and more of the
Haruchai
—all ensnared, all walking mindless and deaf toward the knife and the Banefire.” Tears filled her eyes. “And at that sight,” she went on as if she were ashamed, “we were broken. We fled because naught else remained for us to do.

“During the night,” she finished softly, “Gibbon na-Mhoram reached out to us and attempted mastery of the
krill
’s white gem. But Sunder my love kept the light clean.” Then her tone hardened. “If the na-Mhoram remains in any way accessible to fear, I conceive he has been somewhat daunted—for surely Sunder gave him to believe that the ur-Lord was already returned.”

But Covenant hardly heard her conclusion. He was foundering in the visions her words evoked: the immedicable stupor of the
Haruchai
; the frenzy of the Stonedownors as they had pleaded, opposed, struggled, driving themselves almost into the jaws of the Clave and still failing to save their comrades; the glee or apprehension implicit in Gibbon’s efforts to conquer the
krill
. His brain reeled with images of the enormous consequences of his earlier refusal to fight the Clave. Among the Dead in Andelain, Bannor had said to him,
Redeem my people. Their plight is an abomination
. And he had thought himself successful when he had broken open the hold of Revelstone, set the
Haruchai
free. But he had not succeeded, had not. He had let the Riders and the na-Mhoram live to do again every evil thing they had done before; and the Sunbane had risen to a period of two days on the blood of ravaged villages and helpless
Haruchai
.

Yet Linden’s sharp protest pierced him, snatched him out of himself. An instinct deeper than panic or shame wrenched him to his feet and sent him after her as she scrambled toward Cail and Harn.

But she was too slow, had divined the meaning of their tension too late. With appalling suddenness, Harn struck Cail a blow that knocked him out into the force of the rain.

Sunder, Hollian, and the Giants sprang upright behind Covenant. One running stride ahead of him. Linden was caught by Fole and heaved aside. An instant later, Durris’ arm slammed like an iron bar across Covenant’s chest. He stumbled back against the First.

She held him. He hung in her grasp, gasping for breath while small suns of pain staggered around his sight.

Veiled by torrents, Cail and Harn were barely visible. In mud that should have made footing impossible, rain that should have blinded them, they battled with the precise abandon of madmen.

Furiously Linden yelled, “Stop it! Are you out of your minds?”

Without inflection, Durris replied, “You miscomprehend.” He and Fole stood poised to block any intervention. “This must be done. It is the way of our people.”

Covenant strove for air. Stiffly the First demanded an explanation.

Durris’ dispassion was implacable. He did not even glance at the fierce struggle being waged through the rain. “In this fashion, we test each other and resolve doubt.”

Cail appeared to be at a disadvantage, unable to match the sheer conviction of Harn’s attack. He kept his feet, countered Harn’s blows with a skill which seemed inconceivable in that downpour; but he was always on the defensive.

“Cail has spoken to us concerning
ak-Haru Kenaustin Ardenol
. He was companion to the victor, and we desire to measure our worth against his.”

A sudden feint unbalanced Cail, enabling Harn to slash his feet from under him; but he recovered with a tumbling roll-and-kick.

“Also it has been said that Brinn and Cail betrayed their chosen fidelity to the seduction of the
merewives
. Cail seeks to demonstrate that the lure of their seduction would have surpassed any
Haruchai
in his place.”

Cail and Harn were evenly matched in ability and strength. But Harn had watched his kindred lose their wills and walk into the jaws of the Clave: he struck with the force of repudiation. And Cail had succumbed to the
merewives
, learned to judge himself. Brinn’s victory over the Guardian of the One Tree had led to Cable Seadreamer’s death. A flurry of punches staggered Cail. As he reeled, a heavy two-fisted blow drove his face into the mire.

Cail!

Covenant grabbed a shuddering breath and twisted out of the First’s hands. Fire flashed in his mind, alternately white and black. Flames spread up his right forearm as if his flesh were tinder. He gathered a shout that would stop the
Haruchai
, stun them where they stood.

But Durris went on inflexibly, “Also we desire to grieve for Hergrom and Ceer—and for those whose blood has gone to the Banefire.”

Without warning, he spun away from the company, leaped lithe and feral into the rain toward Cail and Harn. Fole was at his side. Together they attacked.

Then Sunder cried at Covenant, “Do not!” He caught Covenant’s arm, braved fire to halt the imminent eruption. “If the na-Mhoram is conscious of the
krill
in my hands, how much more clearly will your power call out to him?”

Covenant started to yell, I don’t care! Let him try to stop me! But Fole and Durris had not hurled themselves solely upon Cail. They were assailing each other and Harn as well; and Cail had risen from the mud to plunge into the general melee. Blows hammered impartially in all directions.

We desire to grieve
. Slowly the fire ran out of Covenant. Ah, hell, he sighed. Have mercy on me. He had no right to question what the
Haruchai
were doing. He had too much experience with the violence of his own grief.

Linden studied the combatants intently. Her face showed a physician’s alarm at the possibility of injury. But Sunder met Covenant’s gaze and nodded mute comprehension.

As abruptly as it had begun, the fighting stopped. The four
Haruchai
returned stoically to the shelter of the cave. They were all bruised and hurt, though none as sorely as Cail. But his visage concealed defeat, and his people wore no aspect of triumph.

He faced Covenant squarely. “It is agreed that I am unworthy.” Slow blood trickled from a cut on his lip, a gash over one cheekbone. “My place at your side is not taken from me, for it was accorded by
ak-Haru Kenaustin Ardenol
. But I am required to acknowledge that the honor of such a place does not become me. Fole will ward the Chosen.” After a fraction of hesitation, he added, “Other matters have not been resolved.”

“Oh, Cail!” Linden groaned. Covenant spat a curse that was covered by the First’s swearing and Pitchwife’s expostulation. But there was nothing any of them could do. The
Haruchai
had passed judgment, and they were as untouchable as Bloodguard.

Muttering direly to himself, Covenant hugged his arms over his heart and retreated to the simple comfort of the fire.

After a moment, Sunder and Hollian joined him. They stood nearby in silence until he raised his head. Then, in a softer voice, as if his own plight had been humbled by astonishment, Sunder said, “You have much to tell us, ur-Lord.”

“Stop calling me that,” Covenant growled. His mouth was full of gall. Ur-Lord was the title the
Haruchai
typically used for him. “There haven’t been any Lords worth mentioning for three thousand years.”

But he could not refuse to give the Stonedownors the story of his failed quest.

*   *   *

The task of narration was shared by Linden, the First, and Pitchwife. Sunder and Hollian gaped at the tale of the
Elohim
and Findail, of the way in which Covenant had been silenced; but they had no words for their incomprehension. When the companions began to speak of Cable Seadreamer, Honninscrave rose abruptly and stalked out into the rain; but he returned shortly, looking as sharp and doomed as a boulder gnawed by the sempiternal hunger of the sea. His voice rising in grief at loss and celebration of valor, Pitchwife described the crisis of the One Tree. Then the First related the sailing of Starfare’s Gem into the bitten cold of the north. She explained the company’s harsh decision to abandon the
dromond
; and the stem iron of her voice made the things she said seem more bearable.

It fell to Covenant to speak of Hamako and the Waynhim, of the company’s reentry into the Sunbane. And when he was finished, the violence of the storm had become less.

The rain was fading toward sunset. As the downpour receded to a drizzle, the clouds broke open in the east and followed the sun away, exposing the Land to a night as clear and cold as the stars. A moon with a look of roe on its face swelled toward its full.

The fire seemed brighter now as dark deepened outside the cave. Sunder stirred the embers while he considered what he had heard. Then he addressed Covenant again, and the flames glinted like eagerness in his eyes. “Is it truly your intent to assail the Clave? To bring the Banefire to an end?”

Covenant nodded, scowling.

Sunder glanced at Hollian, then back to Covenant. “I need not say that we will accompany you. We have been thwarted beyond endurance. Even Hollian’s child—” For a moment, he faltered in confusion, murmured, “My son,” as if he had just realized the truth. But then he resumed firmly, “Even he is not too precious to be hazarded in such a cause.”