White Gold Wielder t2cotc-3

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  But at that instant a huge splintering crashed through the air; and the wooden barricade went down under Mistweave's attack. More light washed into the forehall, improving the ability of the Haruchai to dodge the Grim. And wood followed the light Fiercely, Mistweave tore the barrier beam from timber and flung the pieces toward the company.

  Haruchai intercepted the smaller fragments, used them as cudgels to batter Grim-flakes from the air. But the First, Honninscrave, and then Pitchwife snatched up the main timbers. At once, wood whirled around the company. The First swung a beam as tall as herself as if it were a flail. Honninscrave swept flakes away from Sunder and Hollian. Pitchwife pounced to Linden's defence with an enormous club in each fist.

  The Grim destroyed the wood almost instantly. Each flake tore the weapon which touched it to charcoal. But the broken barricade had been huge; and Mistweave attacked it with the fury of a demon, sending a constant rush of fragments skidding across the floor to the hands of the company.

  Honninscrave took another flake on his shoulder and nearly screamed; yet he went on fighting as if he were back in the cave of the One Tree and still had a chance to save his brother.

  Three of the Haruchai threw Linden from place to place like a child. In that way they were able to keep her out of the path of the Grim-fall more effectively than if one of them had tried to carry her. But their own movements were hampered. Two of them had already suffered bums; and as Covenant watched, a black bit seemed to shatter Fole's left leg. He balanced himself on his right as if pain had no meaning and caught Linden when she was tossed to him.

  Around the cavern, flakes began to strike the floor and detonate, ripping holes the size of Giant-hands in the smooth stone. Acrid smoke intensified the air as if the granite were smouldering.

  Durris, Harn, and two more Haruchai whipped brands and staves around the Stonedownors. Sunder lashed a frenzy of red power at the Grim. The First and Hoinninscrave laboured like berserkers, spending wood as rapidly as Mistweave fed it to them. Pitchwife followed his wife's example, protected her back with boards and timbers. He still had one pouch of vitrim left.

  And Cail bounded and ducked through the drifting peril with Covenant slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

  Covenant could not catch his breath to shout. Call's shoulder forced the air from his lungs. But he had to make himself heard somehow. “Sunder,” he gasped. “Sunder.”

  By intuition or inspiration, the Haruchai understood him. With a strength and agility that defied the thickening Grim-fall, he bore Covenant toward the Graveler.

  An instant later Covenant was whirled to his feet beside Sunder. Vertigo squalled around him; he had no balance. His hands were too numb to feel the fire mounting in him at every moment. If he could have seen Sunder's face, he would have cried out, for it was stretched and frantic with exhaustion. But the light of the krill blazed at Covenant's eyes. In the chaos of the cavern, that untrammelled brightness was the only point on which he could anchor himself.

  The company had already survived miraculously long. But the Grim seemed to have no end, and soon even Giants and Haruchai would have to fall. This sending was far worse than the other one Covenant had experienced because it was enclosed-and because it was being fed directly by the Banefire. Through the stamp of feet and the burst of fires, he heard Linden cursing the pain of the people who kept her alive-people she could not help even though she suffered their hurts like acid on her own flesh. He had nowhere else to turn except to the krill.

  Plunging toward Sunder, he got both hands on Loric's blade. He did not feel the edges cut into his fingers, did not see the blood. He feared that his weight would topple Sunder; but somehow Sunder braced himself against the collision, managed to hold Covenant upright for a moment, That moment was long enough. Before he fell tangled in the Graveler's arms, Covenant sent one heart rending blast of wild magic and risk through the gem of the krill.

  His power was as black as the Grim now. But his desire was pure; and it struck the krill with such suddenness that the gem was not tainted by it. And from that gem, light rang like a piece of the clean sun. Its brightness seemed to tear asunder the veil of Revelstone's gloom, lay bare the essential skeleton of the granite. Light shone through both flesh and stone, swept all shadow and obscurity away, made clear the farthest corners of the forehall, the heights of the vaulted ceiling. If his eyes had been equal to the argence, in that instant he would have seen the deep heart of the great Keep and Gibbon already fleeing to the place where he had chosen to hide himself. But Covenant was blind to such things. His forehead was butted against Sunder's shoulder and he was falling.

  When he roiled himself off Sunder's panting chest, groped through dizziness to regain his feet, the moment of his power had passed. The cavern was lit only by the sun's reflection from the entrance and the krill's normal shining. His companions stood at various distances from him; but while his head spun he seemed to have no idea who they were.

  But the Grim was gone. The black flakes had been swept away. And still he retained his grip on the wild magic.

  He could not make the stone under him stop whirling. Helplessly, he clung to the first Haruchai who came to him. The numbness of his hands and feet had spread to his other senses. His mind had gone deaf. He heard nothing but the rumble of distant thunder, as if the sun outside Revelstone had become a sun of rain.

  His thoughts spun. Where was Nom? There were villagers in the hold-and Haruchai. Unless the Clave had killed them already? Gibbon had to be somewhere. What would he do next? The venom made Covenant vicious, and the sheer effort of containing so much ignited violence took his sanity away. He thought he was speaking aloud, but his teeth were clenched and immobile. Why doesn't somebody tell that damn thunder to shut up so I can hear myself?

  But the thunder did not stop; and the people around him fought their weariness and injuries to ready themselves. Dimly, he heard the Fust's battle cry as she swept out her sword.

  Then the darkness at the end of the forehall came toward him, and he saw that the Riders had unleashed their Coursers at the company.

  Need cleared his head a little. The Haruchai holding him pushed him away, and other hands took him. He found himself near Linden at the rear of the company, with only Mist weave between them and the entrance. All the Haruchai around them were injured. Those who were not had gone with the First and Honninscrave to meet the charge of the Coursers. Sunder and Hollian stood alone in the centre of the hall. She supported him while he strove urgently to interfere with the Clave's command over the beasts. But exhaustion weakened him, and the Banefire was too near. He could not blunt the assault.

  At least a score of the fierce Coursers rushed forward, borne by the stone thunder of their hooves.

  The Haruchai protecting Covenant and Linden were severely wounded. Fole stood with his left foot resting in a pool of his own blood. Harn had a deep burn on one hip. The other four Haruchai there were nearly maimed by various hurts. The air still reeked of Grim-flakes and pain.

  The beasts struck with a scream of animal fury; and Covenant wanted to shriek with them because it was too much and he was no closer to his goal and the fingers of his will were slipping moment by moment from their hold on the world's ruin.

  One heart-beat later, the scream arose again behind him like an echo. Riding his vertigo, he turned in time to see Mistweave go down under the hooves of four more Coursers.

  The Giant had remained at the entrance to guard the company's rear. But he had been watching the battle, the plight of his companions. The return of the beasts which Sunder had scattered earlier took him by surprise. They reared behind him, pounded him to the stone. Then they thudded past him inward, their feral red eyes flaming like sparks of the Banefire.

  Covenant could not resist as Harn and two more Haruchai thrust him toward one wall, interposed themselves between him and the Coursers. Fole and the rest bore Linden to the opposite wall so that the attack would be divided. Wounded and extravagant Haruchai faced the
huge savagery of the Sunbane-shaped mounts.

  You bastard! Covenant cried at Gibbon as if he were weeping You bloody bastard! Because he had nothing else left, he braced himself on venom and readied his fire so that no more Haruchai would have to die for him.

  But once again he had underestimated them. Two of the Coursers veered toward Linden; two came for him And Harn hobbled out to meet them. He was between Covenant and the beasts Covenant could not strike at them. He had to watch as Harn pitched headlong to the stone directly under the hooves of the leading Courser.

  Pitched and rolled, and came up under the beast's belly with its left fetlock gripped in both hands.

  Unable to halt, the Courser plunged to the stone. The fall simultaneously crushed its knee and drove its poisonous spur up into its barrel.

  Squealing, it thrashed away from him. Its fangs slashed the air. But it could not rise with its leg broken, and the poison was already at work.

  Near the entrance, Mistweave struggled to lever himself to his feet. But one of his arms sprawled at an unconscionable angle, and the other seemed too weak to lift him.

  As the first Courser fell, the second charged toward Covenant. Then it braked with all four legs to keep itself from crashing into the wall. It looked as immense as thunder as it reared to bring its hooves and spurs down on Covenant and his defenders.

  The Ranyhyn also had reared to him, and he felt unable to move. Instinctively, he submitted himself to his dizziness. It unbalanced him, so that he stumbled away to the right.

  Each forehoof as it hammered down was caught by one of the Haruchai.

  Covenant did not know their names; but they stood under the impact of the hooves as if their flesh were granite. One of them had been burned on the arm and could not keep his grip; he was forced to slip the hoof past his shoulder to avoid the spur. But his comrade held and twisted until the other spur snapped off in his hands.

  Instantly, he drove the spur like a spike into the base of the Courser's neck.

  Then the floor came up and kicked Covenant in the chest. At once, he was able to see everything. But there was no air in his lungs, and he had forgotten how to control his limbs. Even the fire within him was momentarily stunned.

  The uninjured Haruchai were taking their toll on the beasts pounding in the far end of the hall. Honninscrave swung his fists like bludgeons, matching his bulk and extremity against the size and strength of the Coursers. Pitchwife struck and struck as if he had temporarily become a warrior like his wife. But the First surpassed them all. She had been trained for combat, and her longsword leaped from thrust to thrust as if it were weightless in her iron hands, slaying Coursers on all sides.

  Only one of the beasts got past her and her companions to burl itself at Sunder and Hollian.

  The Graveler tried to step forward; but Hollian stopped him. She took the orcrest and krill from him, held them high as she faced the Courser. Red fire and white light blazed out of her hands, daunting the beast so that it turned aside.

  There Cail caught up with it and dispatched it as if it were not many times larger than he.

  But the Haruchai guarding Linden were not so successful. Hampered by their wounds, they could not match the feats of their people. Fole attempted what Harn had done; but his leg failed him, and the Courser pulled from his grasp. It ploughed into another Haruchai, slammed the man against the wall with such force that Covenant seemed to see Hergrom being crushed by a Sandgorgon in the impact. The third Haruchai thrust Linden away an instant before a hoof clipped the side of his head. His knees folded, and he sagged to the floor Covenant had never seen one of the Haruchai fall like that.

  Fole started after Linden; but a kick caught him by the shoulder, knocked him aside.

  Then both Coursers reared over Linden.

  Her face was clear in the reflected light from the courtyard, Covenant expected to see panic, paralysis, horror; and he gulped for air, struggled to put out power fast enough to aid her. But her visage showed no fear. It was argute with concentration: her eyes stabbed up at the beasts. Every line of her features was as precise as a command.

  And the Coursers faltered. For an instant, they did not plunge at her. Somehow with no power to support her she drove her percipience into their minds, confused them.

  Their minds were brutish, and the Banefire was strong. She could not hold them for more than an instant. But that was enough.

  Before they recovered, Mistweave crashed into them like a battering-ram.

  He had once left Linden in peril of her life because he had not been able to choose between her and Honninscrave; and that failure had haunted him ever since. But now he saw his chance to make restitution-and did not mean to let any mortal pain or weakness stop him. Ignoring his hurts, he threw himself to Linden's rescue.

  His right arm flopped at his side, but his left was still strong. His initial charge knocked both Coursers back. One of them fell onto its side; and he followed it at once, struck it a blow which made its head rebound with a sickening thud from the bard stone, its body quiver and lie still.

  Wheeling, he met the second Courser as it rose to pound down on him. His good hand caught it by the gullet; his fingers ground inward to strangle the beast.

  Its fangs gaped for his face. Its eyes flared insanely. Its forehooves slashed at his shoulders, tearing him with its spurs; blood streamed down his sides. But Linden had saved his life when he had been more deeply injured than this-and he had failed her. He would not do so again.

  He held the beast until Fole and the other Haruchai came to his aid. They grabbed its forelegs, turned its spurs against itself. In a moment, the Courser was dead. Mistweave dropped it heavily to the floor.

  His muscles began to tremble as the poison worked its way into him.

  Then the fighting was over. Gasps and silence echoed from the far end of the forehall. Grimly, Covenant gained his feet to stumble desperately toward Linden and Mistweave.

  She had not been harmed. Mistweave and the Haruchai had taken all the hurt onto themselves. Her eyes ran as if the wounds of her friends had been etched on her heart. Yet the shape of her mouth and the angles of her cheeks were sharp with wrath. She looked like a woman who would never be paralyzed again. If she had spoken, she might have said. Just let him try. Just let that butchering sonofabitch try.

  Before Covenant could summon any words, the First reached his side.

  She was panting with exultation. Her eyes were bright, and her blade dripped thick blood. But she did not talk of such things. When she addressed him, she took him by surprise.

  “The Master is gone,” she said through her teeth. “He pursues his purpose inward. I know not what he seeks-but I fear that he will find it.”

  Behind her, Pitchwife retched for air as if his exertions had torn the tissues of his cramped lungs. Mistweave shivered toward convulsions as Courser-poison spread into him. Sunder's face was grey with exhaustion; Hollian had to hold him to keep him on his feet. Six of the Haruchai had been burned by the Grim and nearly crippled; one was in Mistweave's plight, gouged by a spur during the battle. Findail had vanished. Linden looked as bitter as acid.

  And Honninscrave was gone. Nom was gone. Seeking their individual conceptions of ruin in the heart of Revelstone.

  Too many lives. Too much pain. And Covenant was no closer to his goal than the entrance hall of the na-Mhoram's Keep.

  That tears it, he thought dumbly. That is absolutely enough. I will not take any more of this.

  “Linden,” he said thickly. His voice was hoarse with fire. “Tell Pitchwife how to treat these people.”

  For an instant, her eyes widened. He feared that she would demur. She was a physician: seven Haruchai and Mistweave needed her sorely. But then she seemed to understand him. The Land also required healing. And she had wounds of her own which demanded care.

  Turning to Pitchwife, she said, “You've got some vitrim left.” In spite of the Banefire, her senses had become explicit, immune to bafflement. “Use it on the bum
s. Give diamondraught to everybody who's hurt.” Then she gazed squarely back at Covenant. “Mistweave's arm can wait. But voure is the only thing I know of that'll help against the poison.”

  He did not hesitate; he had no hesitation left. “Cail,” he said, “you know Revelstone. And you know voure.” The distilled sap which the Clave used to ward off the effects of the sun of pestilence had once saved Call's life. “Tell your people to find some.” There were only four Haruchai uninjured. “And tell them to take Sunder and Hollian with them.” Hollian was experienced with voure. “For God's sake, keep them safe.”

  Without waiting for a response, he swung toward the First.

  “What you ought to do is secure our retreat.” His tone thickened like blood. He had told all his companions to stay out of Revelstone, and none of them obeyed. But they would obey him now. He would not accept refusal. “But it's too late for that. I want you to go after Honninscrave. Find him somehow. Don't let him do it-whatever it is.”

  Then he faced Cail again. “I don't need to be protected. Not anymore. But if there's anybody left in the hold,” any villagers or Haruchai the Clave had not yet shed, “they need help. Break in there somehow. Get them out. Before they're fed to the Banefire.

  “Linden and I are going after Gibbon.”

  None of his companions protested. He was impossible to refuse. He held the world in his hands, and his skin seemed to be wearing thinner, so that the black power gnawing in him showed more and more clearly. His cut fingers dripped blood; but the wound gave him no pain. When Linden indicated the far end of the forehall, he went in that direction with her, leaving behind him all the needs and problems for which he lacked both strength and time. Leaving behind especially Sunder and Hollian, on whom the future depended; but also the First and Pitchwife, who were dear to him; Mistweave on the verge of convulsions; the proven Haruchai; leaving them behind, not as encumbrances, but as people who were too precious to be risked. Linden also he would have left behind, but he needed her to guide him and to support him. He was hag-ridden by vertigo. The reports of their steps rustled like dry leaves as they moved; and he felt that he was going to the place where all things withered. But he did not look back or turn aside.