The Illearth War

by Stephen Donaldson

  Covenant stared at her intensely, with a look of pain as if his forehead were splitting. Several moments passed before he said thickly, "Gay. You're-you were Winhome Gay. You waited on-you were at Manhome."

  The Manethrall returned his stare. "Yes. But you have not changed. Forty-one summers have ridden past me since you visited the Plains of Ra and Manhome, and would not eat the food I brought to you. But you are changeless. I was a child then, a Winhome then, barely near my Cording-and now I am a tired old woman, far from home, and you are young. Ah, Covenant Ringthane, you treated me roughly."

  He faced her with a bruised expression; the memories she called up were sore in him. After another moment, she raised her hands until her palms were turned outward level with her head, and bowed to him in the traditional Ramen gesture of greeting. "Covenant Ringthane, I know you. But you do not know me. I am not Winhome Gay, who passed her Cording and studied the Ranyhyn in the days when Manhome was full of tales of your Quest-when Manethrall Lithe returned from the dark underground, and from seeing the Fire-Lions of Mount Thunder. And I am not Cord Gay, who became a Manethrall, and later heard the word of the Lords asking for Ramen scouts to search the Spoiled Plains between Landsdrop and the Shattered Hills. This requesting word was heard, though these same Lords knew that all the life of the Ramen is on the Plains of Ra, in the tending of the Ranyhyn-yes, heard, and accepted by Manethrall Gay, with the Cords in her watch. She undertook the task of scouting because she hated Fangthane the Render, and because she admired Manethrall Lithe, who dared to leave sunlight for the sake of the Lords, and because she honored Covenant Ringthane, the bearer of white gold, who did not ride when the Ranyhyn reared to him. Now that Manethrall Gay is no more."

  As she said this, her fingers hooked into claws, and her exhausted legs bent into the semblance of a fighting crouch. "I am Manethrall Rue -- old bearer of the flesh of her who was named Gay. I have seen Fangthane marching, and all the Cords in my watch are dead." Then she sagged, and her proud head dropped low. "And I have come here-I, who should never have left the Plains of home. I have come here, to the Lords who are said to be the friends of the Ranyhyn, in no other name but grief."

  While she spoke, the Lords kept silence, and all the Close watched her in anxious suspense, torn between respect for her fatigue and desire to hear what she had

  to say. But Troy heard dangerous vibrations in her voice. Her tone carried a pitch of recrimination which she had not yet articulated clearly. He was familiar with the grim, suppressed outrage that filled all the Ramen when any human had the insolence, the almost blasphemous audacity, to ride a Ranyhyn. But he did not understand it. And he was impatient for the Manethrall's news.

  Rue seemed to sense the increasing tension around her. She stepped warily away from Covenant, and addressed all her audience for the first time. "Yes, it is said that the Lords are our friends. It is said. But I do not know it. You come to the Plains of Ra and give us tasks without thought for the pain we feel on hills which are not our home. You come to the Plains of Ra, and offer yourselves to the generosity of the Ranyhyn as if you were an honor for some Mane to accept. And when you are accepted, as the Bloodguard are accepted-five hundred Manes thrilled like chattel to purposes not their own-you call the Ranyhyn away from us into danger, where none can protect, where the flesh is rent and the blood spilt, with no amanibhavam to stem the pain or forestall death. Ah, Ranyhyn!

  "Do not flex your distrust at me. I know you all."

  In a soft, careful voice, containing neither protest nor apology, the High Lord said, "Yet you have come."

  "Yes," Manethrall Rue returned in tired bitterness, "I have come. I have fled, and endured, and come. I know we are united against Fangthane, though you have betrayed us."

  Lord Verement stiffened angrily, but Elena controlled him with a glance, and said, still softly and carefully, to Rue, "In what way betrayed?"

  "Ah, the Ramen do not forget. In tales preserved in Manhome from the age of mighty Kelenbhrabanal, we know Fangthane, and the wars of the Old Lords. Always, when Fangthane built his armies in the Lower Land, the Old Lords came to the ancient battleground north of the Plains of Ra and the Roamsedge River, and fought at Landsdrop, to forbid Fangthane from the Upper Land. So the Ranyhyn were preserved, for the enemy could not turn his teeth to the Plains of Ra while fighting the Lords. And in recognition, the Ramen left their hills to fight with the Lords.

  "But you -- ! Fangthane marches, and your army is here. The Plains of Ra are left without defense or help."

  "That was my idea." His impatience made Troy sound sharper than he intended.

  "For what reason?" A dangerous challenge pulsed in her quiet tone.

  "I think they were good reasons," he responded. Impelled by an inner need to reassure himself that he had not been wrong, he spoke swiftly. "Think about it. You're right-every time in the past that Foul has built up an army, the Lords have gone to fight him at Landsdrop. And every time, they've lost. They've been pushed back. There are too many different ways up from the Lower Land. And the Lords have been too far from their supplies and support. Sure, they put up a good fight-and that takes some of the pressure off the Plains of Ra because Foul is occupied elsewhere. But the Lords lose. Whole Eoward get hacked to pieces, and the Warward has to retreat on the run just to stay alive long enough to regroup and fight the same fight all over again, farther west-closer to Revelstone.

  "And that's not all. This time, Foul might be building his army farther north-in Sarangrave Flat north of the Defiles Course. He's never done that before. But back then the Giants always kept the north Sarangrave clear. This time" -- he winced at the thought of the Giants -- "this time it's different. If we marched an army down to you while Foul was on his way north of Mount Thunder toward Revelstone, we'd be helpless to stop him from attacking the Keep. Revelstone might fall. So I made the decision. We wait here.

  "Don't get me wrong-we're not abandoning you. The fact is, I don't think you're in that much danger. Look, suppose Foul has an army of fifty thousand or even a hundred thousand. How long is it going to take him to conquer the Plains of Ra?"

  "He will not," Rue breathed between her teeth.

  The Warmark nodded. "And even if he does, it'll take him years. You're too good at hunting-he can't beat you on your own ground. You and the Ranyhyn will run circles around his troops, and every time they turn their backs, you'll throttle a few score of them. Even if he outnumbers you fifty to one, you'll just send the Ranyhyn into the mountains, and keep chipping away at him for God knows how long. He'll need years to do it. Even assuming we are not attacking his rear. No, until he's got the Lords beaten, he can't afford to tackle you. That's why I've been thinking all along that he would come north."

  He stopped, and faced Rue squarely with his argument. The recital of his reasoning calmed him; he knew that his logic was sound. And the Manethrall was forced to acknowledge it. After considering his explanation for a time, she sighed, "Ah, very well. I see your reasons. But I do not like such ideas. You juggle risk for the Ranyhyn too freely."

  Tiredly, she turned back toward Elena. "Hear me, High Lord," she said in a gray, empty voice. "I will speak my message, for I am weary and must rest, come what may.

  "I have journeyed here from the Shattered Hills which surround and defend Foul's Creche. I left that maimed place when I saw a great army issuing from the Hills. It marched as straight as the eye sees toward Landsdrop and the Fall of the River Landrider. It was an army dire and numberless-I could not guess its size, and did not wait to count. With the four Cords in my watch, I fled so that I might keep my word to the Lords."

  The south way, Troy breathed to himself. At once, his brain took hold of the information; concrete images of the Spoiled Plains and Landsdrop filled his mind. He began to calculate Lord Foul's progress.

  "But some enemy knew my purpose. We were pursued. A black wind came upon us, and from it fearsome, abominable creatures fell like birds of prey. My Cords were lost so that I might escape-yet
I was driven far from my way, north into the mange of the Sarangrave.

  "I knew that the peril was great. Yet I knew that there was no waiting army of friends or Lords on the Upper Land to help the Ranyhyn. A shadow came over my heart. Almost I turned aside from my purpose, and left the Lords to a fate of their own devising. But I contended with the Sarangrave, so that the lives of my Cords would not have been lost in vain.

  "Over the ancient battleground, through the rich joy of Andelain, then across a stern plain south of a great forest like unto Morinmoss, but darker and more slumberous-thus I made my way, so that your idea might have its chance. That is my message. Ask what questions you will, and then release me, for I must rest."

  With quiet dignity, the High Lord arose, holding the Staff of Law before her. "Manethrall Rue, the Land is measureless in your debt. You have paid a grim price to bring your word to us, and we will do our uttermost to honor that cost. Please hear me. We could not turn away from the Ranyhyn and their Ramen. To do so, we would cease to be what we are. Only one belief has kept us from your side. It is in our hearts that this is the final war against Fangthane. If we fall, there will be none left to fight again. And we have not the strength of the Old Lords. What force we have we must use cunningly. Please do not harden your heart against us. We will pay many prices to match your own." Holding the Staff at the level of her eyes, she bent forward in a Ramen bow.

  A faint smile flickered across Rue's lips-amusement at Elena's approximation of the fluid Ramen salute-and she returned it to show how it should be done. "It is also said among the Ramen that the Lords are courteous. Now I know it. Ask your questions. I will answer as I can."

  The High Lord reseated herself. Troy was eager to speak, but she did not give him permission. To Manethrall Rue she said, "One question is first in my heart. What of Andelain? Our scouts report no evil there, but they have not your eyes. Are the Hills free of wrong?"

  A surge of frustration bunched the muscles of Troy's shoulders. He was eager, urgent, to begin probing the Manethrall. But he recognized the tact of Elena's inquiry. The Andelainian Hills rode through Ramen legend like an image of paradise; it would ease Rue's heart to speak of them.

  In response, her grim bitterness relaxed for a moment. Her eyes filled with tears that ran down over the slight smile on her lips. "The Hills are free," she said simply.

  A glad murmur ran through the Close, and several of the Lords nodded in satisfaction. This was not something about which a Manethrall could be mistaken. The High Lord sighed her gratitude. When she freed the Warmark to begin his questions, she did so with a look that urged him to be gentle.

  "All right," Troy said, rising to his feet. His heart labored with anxiety, but he ignored it. "I understand that you don't know the size of Foul's army. I accept that. But I've got to know how much head start he has. Exactly how many days ago did you see his army leave the Shattered Hills?"

  The Manethrall did not need to count back. She replied promptly, "Twenty days"

  For an instant, the Warmark regarded her eyelessly from behind his sunglasses, stunned into silence. Then he whispered, "Twenty days?" His brain reeled. "Twenty?" With a violence that wrenched his heart, his image of the Despiser's army surged forward thirty-five leagues-five days. He had counted on receiving word of Lord Foul's movements in fifteen days. He had studied the Ramen; he knew to a league how far a Manethrall could travel in a day. "Oh, my God." Rue should have been able to reach Revelstone in fifteen days.

  He was five days short. Five days less in which to march over three hundred leagues -- ! And Lord Foul's army would be in the Center Plains ten days from now.

  Without knowing how he had reached that position, he found himself sitting with his face in his hands as if he could not bear to look at the ruin of all his fine strategy. Numbly, as if it were a matter of no consequence, he realized that he had been right about one thing: Covenant's summons coincided with the start of Lord Foul's army. That ploy -had triggered the Despiser's attack. Or did it work the other 'way around? Had Lord Foul somehow anticipated the call?

  "How -- ?" For a moment, he could not find what he wanted to ask, and he repeated stupidly, "How -- ?"

  "Ask!" Rue demanded softly.

  He heard the warning in her voice, the danger of offending her pride after an exhausting ordeal. It made him raise his head, look at her. She was glaring at him, and her hands twitched as if they yearned to snatch the fighting cord from her hair. But he had to ask the question, had to be sure -- "What happened to you? Why did it take so long?" His voice sounded small and lorn to himself.

  "I was driven from my way," she said through her teeth, "north into the marge of the Sarangrave."

  "Dear God," Troy breathed weakly. He felt the way Rue looked at him, felt all the eyes in the Close on him. But he could not think; his brain was inert. Lord Foul was only a three-day march from Morinmoss.

  The Manethrall snorted disdainfully, and turned away toward the High Lord. "Is this the man who leads your warriors?" she asked sourly.

  "Please pardon him," Elena replied. "He is young in the Land, and in some matters does not see clearly. But he has been chosen by the Ranyhyn. In time he will show his true value."

  Rue shrugged. "Do you have other questions?" she said wearily. "I would end this."

  "You have told us much. We have no more doubt of Lord Foul's movements, and can guess his speed. Only one question remains. It concerns the composition of Fangthane's army. What manner of beings comprise it?"

  Bitterness stiffened Rue's stance, and she said harshly, "I have spoken of the wind, and the evil in the air which felled my Cords. In the army I saw urviles, Cavewights, a mighty host of kresh, great lionlike beasts with wings which both ran and flew, and many other ill creatures. They wore shapes like dogs or horses or men, yet they were not what they seemed. They shone with great wrong. To my heart, they appeared as the people and beasts of the Land made evil by Fangthane."

  "That is the work of the Illearth Stone," the High Lord murmured.

  But Manethrall Rue was not done. "One other thing I saw. I could not be mistaken, for it marched near the forefront, commanding the movements of the horde. It controlled the creatures with a baleful green light, and called itself Fleshharrower. It was a Giant."

  For an instant, a silence like a thunderclap broke over the Close. It snatched Troy's attention erect, lit a fire of dread in his chest. The Giants! Had Lord Foul conquered them? Already?

  Then First Mark Morin came to his feet and said in a voice flat with certainty, "Impossible. Rockbrother is another name for fealty and faith. Do you rave?"

  At once, the chamber clamored in protest against the very idea that a Giant could join the Despiser. The thought was too shocking to be admitted; it cast fundamental beliefs into hysteria. The Hafts burst out lividly, and several of them shouted through the general uproar that Rue was lying. Two Lorewardens took up Morin's question and made it an accusation: Rue was in the grip of a Raver. Confusion overcame even the Lords. Trevor and Loerya paled with fear; Verement barked at Mhoram; Elena and Callindrill were staggered; and Amatin burst into tears.

  The noise aggravated swiftly in the clear acoustics of the Close, exacerbated itself, forced each voice to become rawer and wilder. There was panic in the din. If the Giants could be made to serve Despite, then nothing was safe, sure; betrayal lurked everywhere. Even the Bloodguard had an aspect of dismay in their flat faces.

  Yet under the protesting and the abuse, Manethrall Rue stood firmly, holding up her head with a blaze of pride and fury in her eyes.

  The next moment, Covenant reached her side.

  Shaking his fists at the assembly, he howled, "Hellfire! Can't you see that she's telling the truth?"

  His voice had no effect. But something in his yell penetrated Hiltmark Quaan. The old veteran knew the Ramen well; he had known Rue during her youth. He jumped to his feet and shouted, "Order! 1"

  Caught in their trained military reactions, the Hafts sprang to attention.r />
  Then High Lord Elena seemed to realize what was happening around her. She reasserted her control with a blast of blue fire from the Staff, and one hot cry:

  "I am ashamed!"

  A stung silence, writhing with fear and indignation, burned in answer to her shout. But she met it passionately, sternly, as if something precious were in danger. "Melenkurion abatha! Have we come to this? Does fear so belittle us? Look! Look at her. If you have not heard the truth in her voice, then look at her now. Remember your Oath of Peace, and look at her. By the Seven! What evil do you see? No-I will hear no protestations that ill can be disguised. We are in the Close of Revelstone. This is the Council of Lords. No Raver could utter falsehood and betrayal here. If there were any wrong in the Manethrall, you would have known it."

  When she saw that she had mastered the assembly, she continued more quietly. "My friends, we are more than this. I do not know the meaning of Manethrall Rue's tidings. Perhaps the Despiser has captured and broken a Giant through the power of the Illearth Stone. Perhaps he can create- ill wights in any semblance he desires, and showed a false Giant to Rue, knowing how the tale of a betraying Rockbrother would harm us. We must gain answers to these questions. But here stands Manethrall Rue of the Ramen, exhausted in the accomplishment of a help which we can neither match nor repay. Cleanse your hearts of all thought against her. We must not do such injustice."