White Gold Wielder t2cotc-3

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  The First glanced at Covenant. But Covenant had no intention of leaving until he knew more. “Hamako,” he said grimly, “why are you here?”

  The loss and resolution behind Hamako's eyes showed that he understood. But he postponed his reply by inviting the company to sit with him on the floor. Then he offered around bowls of the dark, musty vitrim liquid which looked like vitriol and yet gave nourishment like a distillation of aliantha. And when the companions had satisfied their initial hunger and weariness, he spoke as if he had deliberately missed Covenant's meaning.

  “Ring-wielder,” he said, “with four other rhysh we have come to give battle to the arghuleh.”

  “Battle?” Covenant demanded sharply. He had always known the Waynhim as creatures of peace.

  “Yes.” Hamako had travelled a journey to this place which could not be measured in leagues. “That is our intent.”

  Covenant started to expostulate. Hamako stopped him with a firm gesture. “Though the Waynhim serve peace,” he said carefully, “they have risen to combat when their Weird required it of them. Thomas Covenant. I have spoken to you concerning that Weird. The Waynhim are made creatures. They have not the justification of birth for their existence, but only the imperfect lores and choices of the Demondim. And from this trunk grow no boughs but two-the way of the ur-viles, who loathe what they are and seek forever power and knowledge to become what they are not, and the way of the Waynhim, who strive to give value to what they are through service to what they are not, to the birth by Law and beauty of the life of the Land. This you know.”

  Yes. I know. But Covenant's throat closed as he recalled the manner in which Hamako's rhysh had formerly served its Weird.

  “Also you know,” the Stonedownor went on, “that in the time of the great High Lord Mhoram, and of your own last battle against the Despiser, Waynhim saw and accepted the need to wage violence in defence of the Land. It was their foray which opened the path by which the High Lord procured the survival of Revelstone.” His gaze held Covenant's though Covenant could hardly match nun. “Therefore do not accuse us that we have risen to violence again. It is not fault in the Waynhim. It is grief.”

  And still he forestalled Covenant's protest, did not answer Covenant's fundamental question. “The Sunbane and the Despiser's malign intent rouse the dark forces of the Earth. Though they act by their own will, they serve his design of destruction. And such a force has come among the arghuleh, mastering their native savagery and sending them like the hand of winter against the Land. We know not the name of that might. It is hidden from the insight of the Waynhim. But we see it And we have gathered in this rhyshyshim to oppose it.”

  “How?” the First interposed. “How will you oppose it?” When Hamako turned toward her, she said, “I ask pardon if I intrude on that which does not concern me. But you have given us the gift of our lives, and we have not returned the bare courtesy of our names and knowledge.” Briefly, she introduced her companions. Then she continued, “I am the First of the Search-a Swordmain of the Giants. Battle is my craft and my purpose.” Her countenance was sharp in the firelight “I would share counsel with you concerning this combat”

  Hamako nodded. But his reply suggested politeness rather than any hope for help or guidance-the politeness of a man who had looked at his fate and approved of it “In the name of these rhysh, I thank you. Our intent is simple. Many of the Waynhim are now abroad, harrying the arghuleh to lure them hither. In this they succeed. That massed horde we will meet on the outer plain upon the morrow. There the Waynhim will concert their might and strike inward among the ice-beasts, seeking the dark heart of the force which rules them. If we discover that heart-and are equal to its destruction-then will the arghuleh be scattered, becoming once more their own prey.

  “If we fail- ” The Stonedownor shrugged. There was no fear in his face. “We will at least weaken that horde sorely ere we die.”

  The First was faster than Covenant “Hamako,” she said, “I like this not It is a tactic of desperation. It offers no second hope in event of first failure.”

  But Hamako did not waver. “Giant, we are desperate. At our backs lies naught but the Sunbane, and against that ill we are powerless. Wherefore should we desire any second hope? All else has been rent from us. It is enough to strike this blow as best we may.”

  The First had no answer for him. Slowly, his gaze left her. returned to Covenant. His brown eyes seemed as soft as weeping-and yet too hard to be daunted. “Because I have been twice bereft,” he said in that kind and unbreachable voice, “I have been granted to stand at the forefront, forging the puissance of five rhysh with my mortal hands.”

  Then Covenant saw that now at last be would be allowed to ask his true question; and for an instant his courage failed. How could he bear to hear what had happened to Hamako? Such extravagant human valour came from several sources-and one of them was despair.

  But Hamako's eyes held no flinch of self-pity Covenant's companions were watching him, sensitive to the importance of what lay between him and Hamako. Even Mistweave and Honninscrave showed concern; and Linden's visage ached as if Hamako's rue were poignant to her. With a wrench of will, Covenant denied his fear.

  “You still haven't told me.” Strain made his tone harsh. “All this is fine. I even understand it.” He was intimately familiar with desperation. In the warmth of the cavern, he had begun to sweat. “But why in the name of every good and beautiful thing you've ever done in your life are you here at all? Even the threat of that many arghuleh can't compare with what you were doing before.”

  The bare memory filled his throat with inextricable wonder and sorrow.

  Lord Foul had already destroyed virtually all the natural life of the Land. Only Andelain remained, preserved against corruption by Caer-Caveral's power. Everything else that grew by Law or love from seed or egg or birth had been perverted.

  Everything except that which Hamako's rhysh had kept alive.

  In a cavern which was huge on the scale of lone human beings, but still paltry when measured by the destitution of the Land, the Waynhim had nurtured a garden that contained every kind of grass, shrub, flower, and tree, vine, grain, and vegetable they had been able to find and sustain. And in another cave, in a warren of pens and dens, they had saved as many species of animal as their lore and skill allowed.

  It was an incomparable expression of faith in the future, of hope for the time when the Sunbane would be healed and the Land might be dependent upon this one tiny pocket of natural life for its renewal.

  And it was gone. From the moment when he had recognized Hamako, Covenant had known the truth. Why else were the Waynhim here, instead of tending to their chosen work?

  Useless rage cramped his chest, and his courage felt as brittle as dead bone, as he waited for Hamako's response.

  It was slow in coming; but even now the Stonedownor did not waver. “It is as you have feared,” he said softly. “We were driven from our place, and the work of our lives was destroyed.” Then for the first time his voice gave a hint of anger. “Yet you have not feared enough. That ruin did not befall us alone. Across all the Land, every rhysh was beaten from its place and its work. The Waynhim gathered here are all that remain of their race. There will be no more.”

  At that Covenant wanted to cry out, plead, protest. No! Not again! Was not the genocide of the Unhomed enough? How could the Land sustain another such loss?

  But Hamako seemed to see Covenant's thoughts in his aghast face. “You err, ring-wielder,” said the Stonedownor grimly. “Against Ravers and the Despiser, we were forewarned and defended. And Lord Foul had no cause to fear us. We were too paltry to give him threat. No. It was the ur-viles, the black and birthless kindred of the Waynhim, that wrought our ruin from rhysh to rhysh across the Land.”

  Wrought our ruin. Our ruin across the Land Covenant was no longer looking at Hamako. He could not. All that beauty. Gone to grief where all dreams go. If he met those soft, brown, irreparable eyes, he would surely beg
in to weep.

  “Their assault was enabled to succeed because we did not expect it-for had not ur-vile and Waynhim lived in truce during all the millennia of their existence? — and because they have studied destruction as the Waynhim have not.” Slowly, the edge of his tone was blunted. “We were fortunate in our way. Many of us were slain-among them some that you have known. Vraith, dhurng, ghramin.” He spoke the names as if he knew how they would strike Covenant; for those were Waynhim who had given their blood so that he could reach Revelstone in time to rescue Linden, Sunder, and Hollian. But many escaped. Other rhysh were butchered entirely.

  “Those Waynhim that survived wandered without purpose until they encountered others to form new rhysh, for a Waynhim without community is a lorn thing, deprived of meaning. And therefore,” he concluded, “we are desperate in all sooth. We are the last. After us there will be no more.”

  “But why?” Covenant asked his knotted hands and the blurred light, his voice as thick as blood in his throat. “Why did they attack — ? After all those centuries?”

  “Because- ” Hamako replied; and now he did falter, caught by the pain behind his resolve. “Because we gave you shelter-and with you that making of the ur-viles which they name Vain.”

  Covenant's head jerked up, eyes afire with protests. This crime at least should not be laid to his charge, though instinctively he believed it. He had never learned how to repudiate any accusation. But at once Hamako said, “Ah, no, Thomas Covenant, Your pardon. I have led you to miscomprehend me.” His voice resumed the impenetrable gentleness of a man who had lost too much. “The fault was neither yours nor ours. Even at Lord Foul's command the ur-viles would not have wrought such harm upon us for merely sheltering you and any companion. Do not think it. Their rage had another source.”

  “What was it?” Covenant breathed. “What in hell happened?”

  Hamako shrugged at the sheer simplicity of the answer. “It was their conviction that you gained from us an explanation of Vain Demondim-spawn's purpose.”

  “But I didn't!” objected Covenant. “You wouldn't tell me.”

  The Waynhim had commanded Hamako to silence. He had only replied, Were I to reveal the purpose of this Demondim-spawn, that revelation could well prevent the accomplishment of his purpose. And, That purpose is greatly desirable.

  Now he sighed "Yes. But how could our refusal be conveyed to the ur-viles? Their loathing permitted them no understanding of our Weird. And they did not inquire of us what we had done. In our place, they would not have scrupled to utter falsehood. Therefore they could not have believed any reply we gave. So they brought down retribution upon us, compelled by the passion of their desire that the secret of this Vain not be untimely revealed.”

  And Vain stood behind the seated company as if he were deaf or impervious. The dead wood of his right forearm dangled from his elbow; but his useless hand was still undamaged, immaculate. As beautifully sculpted as a mockery of Covenant's flawed being.

  But Hamako did not flinch or quail again, though his sombre gaze now held a dusky hue of fear.

  “Thomas Covenant,” he said, his voice so soft that it barely carried across the circle of the company. “Ring-wielder.” His home. During Stonedown, had been destroyed by the na-Mhoram's Grim; but the Waynhim had given him a new home with them. And then that new home had been destroyed, ravaged for something the rhysh had not done. Twice bereft. "Will you ask once more? Will you inquire of me here the purpose of this black Demondim-spawn?”

  At that. Linden sat up straighter, bit her lips to hold back the question. The First tensed, anticipating explanations. Pitchwife's eyes sparkled like hope; even Mistweave stirred from his gloom. Cail cocked one dispassionate eyebrow.

  But Covenant sat like Honninscrave, his emotions tangled by Hamako's apprehension. He understood the Stonedownor, knew what Bamako's indirect offer meant. The Waynhim no longer trusted their former refusal-were no longer able to credit the unmalice of the ur-viles' intent. The violence of their rum had shaken them fundamentally. And yet their basic perceptions remained. The trepidation in Hamako’s visage showed that he had learned to dread the implications of both speaking and not speaking.

  He was asking Covenant to take the responsibility of decision from him.

  He and his rhysh had come here to die. Fiercely, with all the attention of the company on him Covenant forced himself to say, “No.”

  His gaze burned as he confronted Hamako across the rude stone. “You've already refused once.” Within himself, he swore bitterly at the necessity which compelled him to reject everything that might help or ease or guide him. But he did not shrink from it. “I trust you.”

  Linden gave him a glare of exasperation. Pitchwife's face widened in surprise. But Hamako's rue worn features softened with undisguised relief.

  Later, while Covenant's companions rested or slept in the warmth of the cavern, Hamako took the Unbeliever aside for a private conversation. Gently, Hamako urged Covenant to depart before the coming battle. Night was upon the Northron Climbs, the night before the dark of the moon; but a Waynhim could be spared to guide the company up the escarpment toward the relative safety of Landsdrop. The quest would be able to travel without any immediate fear of the arghuleh.

  Covenant refused brusquely. “You've done too much for me already. Tm not going to leave you like this,”

  Hamako peered into Covenant's clenched glower. After a moment, the Stonedownor breathed. “Ah, Thomas Covenant Will you hazard the wild magic to aid us?”

  Covenant's reply was blunt. “Not if I can help it.” If he had heeded the venom coursing in him, the itch of his scarred forearm, he would already have gone out to meet the arghuleh alone. “But my friends aren't exactly useless.” And I don't intend to watch you die for nothing.

  He knew he had no right to make such promises. The meaning of Hamako's life, of the lives of the gathered Waynhim, was not his to preserve or sacrifice. But he was who he was. How could he refuse to aid the people who needed him?

  Scowling at unresolved contradictions, he studied the creatures. With their eyeless faces, gaping nostrils, and limbs made for running on all fours, they looked more like beasts or monsters than members of a noble race that had given its entire history to the service of the Land. But long ago one of them had been indirectly responsible for his second summons to the Land. Savagely maimed and in hideous pain, that Waynhim had been released from the Despiser's clutches to bait a trap. It had reached the Lords and told them that Lord Foul's armies were ready to march. Therefore High Lord Elena had made the decision to call Covenant. Thus the Despiser had arranged for Covenant's return. And the logic of that return had led ineluctably to Elena's end, the breaking of the Law of Death, and the destruction of the Staff of Law.

  Now the last of the Waynhim people stood on the verge of ruin.

  A long time passed before Covenant was able to sleep. He saw all too clearly what Lord Foul might hope to gain from the plight of the Waynhim.

  But when his grasp on consciousness frayed away, the vitrim he had consumed carried him into deep rest; and he slept until the activity around him became constant and exigent. Raising his bead, he found that the cavern was full of Waynhim-at least twice as many as he had seen earlier. The bleary look in Linden's face showed that she had just awakened; but the four Giants were up and moving tensely among the Waynhim.

  Pitchwife came over to Linden and Covenant “You have slept well, my friends,” he said, chuckling as if he were inured to the expectancy which filled the air. “Stone and Seal this vitrim is a hale beverage. A touch of its savour commingled with our diamondraught would gladden even the dullest palate. Life be praised, I have at last found the role which will make my name forever sung among the Giants. Behold!” With a flourish, he indicated his belt which was behung on all sides with leather vitrim-skins. “It will be my dear task to bear this roborant to my people, that they may profit from its potency in the blending of a new liquor. And that unsurpassable draught will be named
pitchbrew for all the Earth to adore.” he laughed. “Then will my fame outmeasure even that of great Bahgoon himself!”

  The misshapen Giant's banter drew a smile from Linden. But Covenant had climbed out of sleep into the same mood with which the peril of the Waynhim had first afflicted him. Frowning at Pitchwife's humour, he demanded. “What's going on?”

  The Giant sobered rapidly. “Ah, Giantfriend,” he sighed, “you have slept long and long. Noon has come to the wasteland, and the Waynhim are gathered to prepare for battle. Although the arghuleh advance slowly, they are now within sight of this covert. I conceive that the outcome of their conflict will be determined ere sunset.”

  Covenant swore to himself. He did not want the crisis to be so near at hand.

  Linden was facing him. In her controlled, professional voice, she said, “There's still time.”

  “Time to get out of here?” he returned sourly. “Let them go out there and probably get butchered as a race without so much as one sympathetic witness to at least grieve? Forget it.”

  Her eyes flared. “That isn't what I meant.” Anger sharpened the lines of her face. “I don’t like deserting people any more than you do. Maybe I don't have your background”- she snarled the word- “but I can still see what Bamako and. the Waynhim are worth. You know me better than that.” Then she took a deep breath, steadied herself. Still glaring at him, she said, “What I meant was, there's still time to ask them about Vain.”

  Covenant felt like a knotted thunderhead, livid and incapable of release. Her pointed jibe about his background underscored the extent to which he had falsified their relationship. From the time of their first meeting on Haven Farm, he had withheld things from her, arguing that she did not have the background to understand them. And this was the result Everything be said to or heard from the woman he loved became gall.