White Gold Wielder t2cotc-3

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  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 ill 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: be 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 Harnmered 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 honour 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 valour, 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 Harnako and the Waynhim, of the company's re-entry 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.”

  Covenant started to retort. No, you're wrong. You're all too precious. You're the future of the Land. If it has a future. But the Graveler had come too far to be denied. And Covenant had lost the right or the arrogance to try to withhold the consequences of their own lives from the people he loved.

  He took a deep breath, held it to steady himself. The force of Durris' arm had left a pain in his chest that would not go away. But Sunder did not ask the question he feared, did not say. How can you think to confront the might of Revelstone, when your power threatens the very foundation of the Earth? Instead, the Graveler inquired, “What will become of the Haruchai"

  That question, too, was severe; but Covenant could face it. Slowly, he let t
he pent air out of his lungs. “If I succeed, they'll be all right.” Nightmares of fire had annealed him to his purpose. “If I fail, there won't be much left to worry about.”

  Sunder nodded, looked away. Carefully, he asked, “Thomas Covenant, will you accept the krill from me?”

  More abruptly than he intended Covenant snapped, “No.” When he had first given away Loric's blade, Linden had asked him why he no longer needed it. He had replied, I'm already too dangerous. But he had not known then how deep the danger ran. “You're going to need it,” To fight with if he failed.

  Or if he succeeded.

  That was the worst gall, the true root of despair-that even a complete victory over the Clave would accomplish nothing. It would not restore the Law, not heal the Land, not renew the people of the Land. And beyond all question it would not cast down the Despiser, The best Covenant could hope for was a postponement of his doom. And that was as good as no hope at all.

  Yet he had been living with despair for so long now that it only confirmed his resolve. He had become like Kevin Landwaster, incapable of turning back, of reconsidering what he meant to do. The sole difference was that Covenant already knew he was going to die.

  He preferred that to the death of the Land.

  But he did not say such things to his companions. He did not want to give the impression that he blamed Linden for her inability to aid his dying body in the woods behind Haven Farm. And he did not wish to quench the Stonedownors' nascent belief that they had one more chance to make what they had undergone meaningful. Despair belonged to the lone heart, and he kept it to himself. Lord Foul had corrupted everything else-had turned to ill even the affirmative rejection of hate which had once led Covenant to withhold his hand from the Clave. But Sunder and Hollian had been restored to him. Some of the Haruchai and the Giants could still be saved. Linden might yet be returned safely to her natural world. He had become ready to bear it.

  When Honninscrave left the cave again to pace out his tension under the unpitying stars Covenant followed him.

  The night was cold and poignant, the warmth of the earth drenched away by the long rain. Apparently unconscious of Covenant, Honninscrave climbed the nearest hillside until he gained a vantage from which he could study the south-western horizon. His lonely bulk was silhouetted against the impenetrable sky. He held himself as rigid as the fetters in Kasreyn's dungeon; but the manacles on him now were more irrefragable than iron. From far back in his throat came small whimpering noises like flakes of grief.

  Yet he must have known that Covenant was there. After a moment, he began to speak.

  “This is the world which my brother purchased with his soul.“ His voice sounded like cold, numb hands rubbing each other to no avail. “Seeing that the touch of your power upon the One Tree would surely rouse the Worm, he went to his death to prevent you. And this is the result. The Sunbane waxes, perpetrating atrocity. The human valour of the Stonedownors is baffled. The certainty of the Haruchai is thwarted. And against such evils you are rendered futile, bound by the newborn doom to which Cable Seadreamer served as midwife. Do you consider such a world worthy of life? I do not.”

  For a time Covenant remained silent He was thinking that he was not the right person to hear Honninscrave's hurt. His own despair was too complete. His plight was constricted by madness and fire on all sides; and the noose was growing tighter. Yet he could not let the need in Honninscrave's question pass without attempting an answer. The Giant was his friend. And he had his own losses to consider. He needed a reply as sorely as Honninscrave did.

  Slowly, he said, “I talked to Foamfollower about hope once.” That memory was as vivid as healthy sunshine. “He said it doesn't come from us. It doesn't depend on us. It comes from the worth and power of what we serve.” Without flinching, Foamfollower had claimed that his service was to Covenant When Covenant had protested. It's all a mistake, Foamfollower had responded. Then are you so surprised to learn that I have been thinking about hope?

  But Honninscrave had a different objection. “Aye, verily?”

  he growled. He did not glance at Covenant. “And where now under all the Sunbane lies the 'worth and power' that you serve?”

  “In you,” Covenant snapped back, too vexed by pain to be gentle. “In Sunder and Hollian. In the Haruchai.” He did not add, In Andelain. Honninscrave had never seen that last flower of the Land's loveliness. And he could not bring himself to say, In me. Instead, he continued, “When Foamfollower and I were together, I didn't have any power. I had the ring-but I didn't know how to use it. And I was trying to do exactly what Foul wanted. I was going to Foul's Creche. Walking right into the trap. Foamfollower helped me anyway.” The Giant had surrendered himself to agony in order to carry Covenant across the fierce lava of Hotash Slay. “Not because there was anything special or worthy or powerful about me, but simply because I was human and Foul was breaking my heart. That gave Foamfollower all the hope he needed.”

  In the process, Covenant had caused the Giant's death. Only the restraint-he had learned in the cavern of the One Tree kept him from crying. Don't talk to me about despair! I'm going to destroy the world and there's nothing I can do about it! I need something better from you! Only that restraint and the tall dark shape of the Master as he stood against the stars, torn by loss and as dear as life.

  But then Honninscrave turned as if he had heard the words Covenant had not uttered. His moon-gilt stance took on a curious kindness. Softly, he said, “You are the Giantfriend, and I thank you that there is yet room in your heart for me. No just blame attaches to you for Seadreamer's death-nor for the refusal of caamora with which by necessity you sealed his end. But I do not desire hope. I desire to see. I covet the vision which taught my brother to accept damnation in the name of what he witnessed.”

  Quietly, he walked down from the hilltop, leaving Covenant exposed to the emptiness of the night.

  In the cold silence, Covenant tried to confront his plight, wrestled for an escape from the logic of Lord Foul's manipulations. Revelstone was perhaps only three days away. But the wild magic had been poisoned, and venom collared all his dreams. He contained no more hope than the black gulf of the heavens, where the Worm of the World's End had already fed. Honninscrave's difficult grace did not feel like forgiveness. It felt as arduous as a grindstone, whetting the dark to a new sharpness. And he was alone.

  Not because he lacked friends. In spite of the Land's destitution, it had blessed him with more friendship than he had ever known. No, he was alone because of his ring. Because no one else possessed this extreme power to ruin the Earth. And because he no longer had any right to it at all.

  That was the crux, the conflict he could not resolve or avoid; and it seemed to cripple his sense of himself, taking his identity away. What did he have to offer the Land except wild magic and his stubborn passion? What else was he worth to his friends? — or to Linden, who would have to carry the burden as soon as he set it down? From the beginning, his life here had been one of folly and pain, sin and ill; and only wild magic had enabled him to make expiation. And now the Clave had reduced the village to relics. It had ensnared the Haruchai once more. The Sunbane had attained a period of two days. Seadreamer and Hergrom and Ceer and Harnako were dead. If he surrendered his ring now, as Findail and doom urged, how would he ever again be able to bear the weight of his own actions?

  We are foemen, you and I, enemies to the end. But the end will be yours. Unbeliever, not mine. At the last there will be but one choice for you, and you will make it in all despair. Of your own volition you will give the white gold into my hand.

  Covenant had no answer. In Andelain among the Dead, Mhoram had warned, He has said to you that you are his Enemy. Remember that he seeks always to mislead you. But Covenant had no idea what the former High Lord meant.

  Around him, a dismay which no amount of moonlight could palliate gripped the hills. Unconsciously, he had sunk to the ground under the glinting accusation of the stars. Findail had said like th
e Despiser, He must be persuaded to surrender his ring. If he does not, it is certain that he will destroy the Earth. Covenant huddled into himself. He needed desperately to cry out and could not-needed to hurl outrage and frenzy at the blind sky and was blocked from any release by the staggering peril of his power. He had fallen into the Despiser's trap, and there was no way out.

  When he beard feet ascending the hill behind him, he covered his face to keep himself from pleading abjectly for help.

  He could not read the particular emanations of his companions. He did not know who was approaching him. Vaguely, he expected Sunder or Pitchwife. But the voice which sighed his name like an ache of pity or appeal was Linden's.

  He lurched erect to meet her, though he had no courage for her concern, which he had not earned.

  The moon sheened her hair as if it were clean and lovely. But her features were in shadow; only the tone of her voice revealed her mood. She spoke as if she knew how close he was to breaking.

  As softly as a prayer, she breathed, “Let me try.”

  At that, something in him did break. “Let you?” he fumed suddenly. He had no other way to hold back his grief. “I can hardly prevent you. If you're so all fired bloody eager to be responsible for the world, you don't need my permission. You don't even need the physical ring. You can use it from there. All you have to do is possess me.”

  “Stop,” she murmured like an echo of supplication, “stop.” But his love for her had become anguish, and he could not call it back.