Her lips were as white as bone. Her muscles strained against Sunder’s weight. Surely she could not bear any more.
But she breathed hoarsely, “Immobilize the leg.” Wails rose in her throat; she forced them down. “Above the knee.”
At once, Sunder shifted to obey. But the First gestured him aside. “The strength of a Giant is needed.” She wrapped Linden’s leg in her huge hands, holding it like a vise of stone.
“Don’t let me move.”
The company answered her commands. Her pain was irrefusable. Ceer grasped her shoulders. Harn anchored one of her arms; Sunder pinned the other. Brinn leaned along her uninjured leg.
“Give me something to bite.”
Hollian tore a strip from the fringe of her robe, folded it several times, and offered it to Linden’s mouth.
“Take hold of the foot.” Dry dread filled her eyes. “Pull it straight away from the break. Hard. Keep pulling until all the splinters slip back under the skin. Then turn it into line with the leg. Hold the foot so the bones don’t shift. When I feel everything’s right”—she panted feverishly, but her doctor’s training controlled her—“I’ll nod. Let go of the foot. Slowly. Put a splint on it. Up past the knee. Splint the whole leg.”
Immediately she squeezed her eyes shut, opened her mouth to accept Hollian’s cloth.
A nausea of fear twisted in Covenant’s bowels; but he ignored it. “Right,” he grated. “I’ll do it.” Her courage appalled him. He moved to her foot.
Cail brushed him away.
Curses jumped through Covenant’s teeth; but Cail responded without inflection, “This I will do for her.”
Covenant’s vitals trembled. His hands had held power enough to maim the lurker and had suffered no harm. “I said I’ll do it.”
“No.” Cail’s denial was absolute. “You have not the strength of the Haruchai. And the blame for this injury is mine.”
“Don’t you understand?” Covenant could not find sufficient force for his remonstration. “Everything I touch turns to blood. All I do is kill.” His words seemed to drop to the ground, vitiated by the distant self-pity of the lurker. “She’s here because she tried to save my life. I need to help her.”
Unexpectedly Cail looked up and met Covenant’s wounded gaze. “Ur-Lord,” he said as if he had judged the Unbeliever to the marrow of his bones, “you have not the strength.”
You don’t understand! Covenant tried to shout. But no sound came past the knot of self-loathing in his throat. Cail was right; with his half-hand, he would not be able to grip Linden’s foot properly; he could never help her, had not the strength. And yet his hands were unharmed. He could not resist when Pitchwife took hold of him, drawing him away from the group around Linden.
Without speaking, the malformed Giant led him to the campfire Honninscrave was building. Seadreamer sat there, resting his acid-burned foot. He gazed at Covenant with eloquent, voiceless eyes. Honninscrave gave Covenant a sharp glance, then picked up a stone cup from one of his bundles and handed it to Covenant. Covenant knew from the smell that the cup contained diamondraught, potent as oblivion. If he drank from that cup, he might not regain consciousness until the next day. Or the day after that.
Unconsciousness bore no burdens, felt no blame.
He did not drink. He stared into the flames without seeing them, without feeling the clench of grief on his features. He did nothing but listen to the sounds of the night: the lurker bubbling pain softly to itself; Pitchwife’s faint stertorous breathing; Linden’s gagged scream as Cail started to pull at her foot. Her bones made a noise like the breaking of sodden sticks as they shifted against each other.
Then the First said tightly, “It is done.”
The fire cast streaks of orange and yellow through Covenant’s tears. He did not want ever to be able to see again, wished himself forever deaf and numb. But he turned to Pitchwife and lifted the stone cup toward the Giant. “Here. She needs this.”
Pitchwife carried the cup to Linden. Covenant followed like a dry leaf in his wake.
Before Covenant reached her, he was met by Brinn and Cail. They blocked his way; but they spoke deferentially. “Ur-Lord.” Brinn’s alien inflection expressed the difficulty of apologizing. “It was necessary to deny you. No disservice was intended.”
Covenant fought the tightness of his throat. “I met Bannor in Andelain. He said, ‘Redeem my people. Their plight is an abomination. And they will serve you well.’ ”
But no words were adequate to articulate what he meant. He fumbled past the Haruchai, went to kneel at Linden’s side.
She was just emptying the cup which the First held for her. The skin of her face looked as bloodless as marble; a patina of pain clouded her gaze. But her respiration was growing steadier, and the clench of her muscles had begun to loosen. With numb fingers, he rubbed the tears from his eyes, trying to see her clearly, trying to believe that she would be all right.
The First looked at him. Quietly she said, “Trust the diamondraught. She will be healed.”
He groped for his voice. “She needs bandages. A splint. That wound should be cleaned.”
“It will be done.” The quaver of stress in Hollian’s tone told him that she needed to help. “Sunder and I—”
He nodded mutely, remaining at Linden’s side while the Stonedownors went to heat water and prepare bandages and splints. She seemed untouchable in her weakness. He knelt with his arms braced on the ground and watched the diamondraught carry her to sleep.
He also watched the care with which Hollian, Sunder, and Stell washed and bandaged Linden’s ankle, then splinted her leg securely. But at the same time, a curious bifurcation came over him—a split like the widening gulf between his uselessness and his power. He was sure now—though he feared to admit it to himself—that he had healed himself with wild magic when he had been summoned to Kevin’s Watch with the knife-wound still pouring blood from his chest. He remembered his revulsion at Lord Foul’s refrain, You are mine, remembered heat and white flame—
Then why could he not do the same for Linden, knit her bones just as he had sealed his own flesh? For the same reason that he could not draw water from the Earth or oppose the Sunbane. Because his senses were too numb for the work, unattuned to the spirit within the physical needs around him. Clearly this was deliberate, a crucial part of the Despiser’s intent. Clearly Lord Foul sought at every turn to increase both Covenant’s might and his helplessness, stretch him on the rack of self-contradiction and doubt. But why? What purpose did it serve?
He had no answer. He had invested too much hope in Linden, in her capacity for healing. And Lord Foul had chosen her on precisely the same grounds. It was too much. Covenant could not think. He felt weak and abject of soul. For a moment, he listened to the misery of the lurker. Then, numbly, he left Linden’s side and returned to the campfire, seeking warmth for his chilled bones.
Sunder and Hollian joined him. They held each other as if they, too, felt the cold of his plight. After a few moments, Harn and Hergrom brought food and water. Covenant and the Stonedownors ate like the survivors of a shipwreck.
Covenant’s dullness grew in spite of the meal. His head felt as heavy as prostration; his heart lay under a great weight. He hardly noticed that the First of the Search had come to speak with Honninscrave. He stood, leaning toward the flames like a man contemplating his own dissolution. When Honninscrave addressed him, veils of fatigue obscured the Giant’s words.
“The First has spoken,” Honninscrave said. “We must depart. The lurker yet lives. And the skest do not retreat. We must depart while they are thus thinly scattered and may be combated. Should the lurker renew its assault now, all your power—and all the Chosen’s pain—will have gained us naught.”
Depart, Covenant mumbled. Now. The importance of the words was hidden. His brain felt like a tombstone.
“You speak truly,” Brinn replied for Covenant. “It would be a gladness to travel with Giants, as the old tellers say Haruchai and Giant
s traveled together in the ancient days. But perhaps our paths do not lie with each other. Where do you go?”
The First and Honninscrave looked at Seadreamer. Seadreamer closed his eyes as if to ignore them; but with one long arm he pointed toward the west.
Brinn spoke as if he were immune to disappointment. “Then we must part. Our way is eastward, and it is urgent.”
Part? A pang penetrated Covenant’s stupor. He wanted the company of the Giants. He had a world of things to tell them. And they were important to him in another way as well, a way he could not seem to articulate. He shook his head. “No.”
Honninscrave cocked an eyebrow. The First frowned at Covenant.
“We just met,” Covenant murmured. But that was not what he had to say. He groped for clarity. “Why west?” Those words disentangled some of his illucidity. “Why are you here?”
“Giantfriend,” the First responded with a hint of iron, “that tale is long, and the time is perilous. This lurker is a jeopardy too vast to be disdained.”
Covenant knotted his fists and tried to insist. “Tell me.”
“Thomas Covenant—” Honninscrave began in a tone of gentle dissuasion.
“I beat that thing once,” Covenant croaked. “I’ll beat it again if I have to.” Don’t you understand? All your people were killed. “Tell me why you’re here.”
The First considered her companions. Honninscrave shrugged. Seadreamer kept his eyes closed, communing with a private pain. Pitchwife hid his face behind a cup of diamondraught.
Stiffly she said, “Speak briefly, Grimmand Honninscrave.”
Honninscrave bowed, recognizing her right to command him. Then he turned to Covenant. His body took on a formal stance, as if even his muscles and sinews believed that tales were things which should be treated with respect. His resemblance to Foamfollower struck Covenant acutely.
“Hear, then, Thomas Covenant,” Honninscrave said with a cadence in his deep voice, “that we are the leaders of the Search—the Search of the Giants, so called for the purpose which has brought us thus far across the world from our Home. To our people, from time to time among the generations, there is born one possessed of a gift which we name the Earth-Sight—a gift of vision such as only the Elohim comprehend. This gift is strange surpassingly, and may be neither foretold nor bound, but only obeyed. Many are the stories I would wish to tell, so that you might grasp the import of what I say. But I must content myself with this one word: the Earth-Sight has become a command to all Giants, which none would willingly shirk or defy. Therefore we are here.
“Among our generation, a Giant was born, brother of my bone and blood, and the Earth-Sight was in him. He is Cable Seadreamer, named for the vision which binds him, and he is voiceless, scalded mute by the extravagance and horror of what the Earth-Sight has seen. With the eyes of the gift, he beheld a wound upon the Earth, sore and terrible—a wound like a great nest of maggots, feeding upon the flesh of the world’s heart. And he perceived that this wound, if left uncleansed, unhealed, would grow to consume all life and tune, devouring the foundation and cornerstone of the Earth, unbinding Stone and Sea from themselves, birthing chaos.
“Therefore a Giantclave was held, and the Search given its duty. We are commanded to seek out this wound and oppose it, in defense of the Earth. For that reason, we set sail from our Home in the proudest dromond of all Giantships, Starfare’s Gem. For that reason, we have followed Seadreamer’s gaze across the wide oceans of the world—we, and two score of our people, who tend the Gem. And for that reason, we are here. The wound lies in this land, in the west. We seek to behold it, discover its nature, so that we may summon the Search to resist or cleanse it.”
Honninscrave stopped and stood waiting for Covenant’s reply. The other Giants studied the Unbeliever as if he held the key to a mystery, the First grimly, Seadreamer as intensely as an oracle, Pitchwife with a gaze like a chuckle of laughter or loss. Possibilities widened the faces of the Stonedownors as they began to understand why Covenant had insisted on hearing the explanation of the Giants. But Covenant was silent. He saw the possibilities, too; Honninscrave’s narration had opened a small clear space in his mind, and in that space lay answers. But he was preoccupied with an old grief. Foamfollower’s people had died because they were unable to find their way Home.
“Ur-Lord,” Brinn said. “Time demands us. We must depart.”
Depart. Covenant nodded. Yes. Give me strength. He swallowed, asked thickly, “Where’s your ship?”
“The dromond Starfare’s Gem,” Honninscrave replied as if he desired Covenant to use the ship’s title, “stands anchored off the delta of a great swamp which lies in the east. A distance of perhaps seven score leagues.”
Covenant closed his eyes. “Take me there. I need your ship.”
The First’s breath hissed through her teeth. Pitchwife gaped at the ur-Lord’s audacity. After a moment, Honninscrave began hesitantly, “The First has named you Giantfriend. We desire to aid you. But we cannot—”
“Thomas Covenant,” the First said in a voice like a broadsword, “what is your purpose?”
“Oh, forsooth!” Pitchwife laughed. “Let this lurker await our good readiness. We will not be hastened.” His words could have been sarcastic; but he spoke them in a tone of clean glee. “Are we not Giants? Are not tales more precious to us than life?”
Quietly, almost gently, the First said, “Peace, Pitchwife.”
At her command, Pitchwife stopped; but his grin went on contradicting the grief of the lurker.
In the core of his numbness, Covenant held to the few things he understood, kept his eyes shut so that he would not be distracted. Distanced from himself by darkness and concentration, he hardly heard what he was saying.
“I know that wound. I know what it is. I think I know what to do about it. That’s why we’re here. I need you—your ship, your knowledge—your help.”
The thing you seek is not within the Land.
The Staff of Law. The One Tree.
Yet Mhoram had also said, Do not be deceived by the Land’s need. The thing you seek is not what it appears to be.
Carefully Honninscrave said, “Cable Seadreamer asks that you speak more plainly.”
More plainly? For an instant, Covenant’s grasp on clarity faltered. Do I have to tell you that it’s my fault? That I’m the one who opened the door? But he steadied himself in the eye of all the things he did not understand and began to speak.
There in the night, with his eyes closed against the firelight and the immaculate stars, he described the Sunbane and the purpose for which Lord Foul had created the Sunbane. He outlined its origin in the destruction of the Staff of Law, then told of his own role in that destruction, so that the Giants would understand why the restitution of the Staff was his responsibility. And he talked about what he had learned in Andelain. All these things ran together in his mind; he did not know whether the words he spoke aloud made any sense.
When he finished, he fell silent and waited.
After a time, the First said thoughtfully, “You ask the use of Starfare’s Gem so that you may seek across the world for this One Tree. You ask our aid and our knowledge of the Earth, to aid your seeking.”
Covenant opened his eyes then, let his mortal weariness speak for him. Yes. Look at me. How else can any of this be healed?
“Stone and Sea!” she muttered, “this is a hard matter. If you speak truly, then the path of the Search lies with you.”
“The ur-Lord,” Brinn said without inflection, “speaks truly.”
She rejected his assertion with a brusque shrug. “I doubt not that he speaks truly concerning his own belief. But is his belief a sure knowledge? He asks us to place all the Search into his hands—without any secure vision of what we do. Granted he is mighty, and has known the friendship of Giants. But might and surety are not children of the same parent.”
“Do you”—Covenant could feel himself failing into stupidity again, becoming desperate—“know where
the One Tree is?”
“No,” she replied stiffly. She hesitated for only a moment. “But we know where such knowledge may be gained.”
“Then take me there.” His voice was husky with supplication. “The Sunbane’s getting worse. People are killed every day to feed it. The Land is dying,” I swore I’d never kill again—swore it in the name of Foamfollower’s caamora. But I can’t stop. “Please.”
Indecision held the First. She glared at the dilemma he had given her. Honninscrave knelt by the fire, tending it as if he needed something to do with his hands. Seadreamer’s face wore pain as if he were maimed by his muteness. Near him, Sunder and Hollian waited in suspense.
Whistling thinly through his teeth, Pitchwife began to repack the Giants’ bundles. His features expressed a complete confidence that the First would make the right choice.
Without warning, a bolt of white shot through the depths of the lake. It flickered, disappeared. Fired again.
Instantly the whole lake caught silver. Ghost-shine sprang into the night. The water came to life.
In the distance, the lurker’s sobbing mounted toward rage. At once, the air seemed to congeal like fear.
Sunder spat a hoarse curse. Harn and Hergrom dove toward the quest’s supplies. Pitchwife tossed a bundle to Honninscrave. Honninscrave caught it, slipped his shoulders into the bindings. The First had already kicked the campfire apart. She and Honninscrave picked up brands to use as torches. Pitchwife threw the other bundle to Seadreamer, then snatched up a torch himself.
Ceer and Cail had lifted Linden. But the splint made her awkward for them. Covenant saw dazedly that they would not be able to carry her, run with her, without hurting her ankle.
He did not know what to do. His lungs ached. The lurker’s rising howl tore open the scars of past attacks. Sweat burst from the bones of his skull. The skest were moving, tightening their fire around the company. There was nothing he could do.
The Wounded Land Page 53