The Wounded Land t2cotc-1

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  A spasm contorted the Graveller's face; his hands bunched into knots of pain and uselessness, “Her death is plain.” His eyes were dull, wounded, articulating the frank torment of his heart. “I must shed her blood with yours at the sun's rising.”

  Covenant bowed his head for a moment in tacit acknowledgment. Then, deliberately, he created a space of clarity within himself, set his questions and fears aside. All right, he murmured. Leper. It has to be done.

  Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet, faced the Stonedownor.

  “Sunder,” he said softly, “do you have a knife?”

  The Graveller nodded as if the question had no meaning.

  “Take it out.”

  Slowly, Sunder obeyed. He reached to his back, slipped a long iron poniard out of his belt. His fingers held it as if they had no idea how to use it.

  “I want you to see that you're safe,” Covenant said. “You have a knife. My hands are tied. I can't hurt you.”

  Sunder stared back at Covenant, transfixed by incomprehension.

  All right, Covenant breathed. Leper. Do it now. His heartbeat seemed to fill his chest, leaving no room for air. But he did not waver.

  “Get out that piece of orcrest. The Sunstone.”

  Again, Sunder obeyed. Covenant's will held him.

  Covenant did not permit himself to glance down at the stone. He was marginally aware that Linden regarded him as if he were no longer sane. A shudder of apprehension threatened his clarity. He had to grit his teeth to keep his voice steady, “Touch me with it.”

  “Touch-?” Sunder murmured blankly.

  “Touch my forehead.”

  Doubt pinched the corners of Sunder's eyes. His shoulders hunched as he tightened his grip on the knife, the Sunstone.

  Do it.

  The Graveller's hand seemed to move without volition. The orcrest passed Covenant's face, came to rest cool and possible against his tense brow.

  His attention dropped through him to his ring, seeking for the link between orcrest and white gold. He remembered standing in sunlight and desperation on the slopes of Mount Thunder; he saw Bannor take his hand, place his ring in contact with the Staff of Law. A trigger. He felt the detonation of power.

  You are the white gold.

  The silence in the room vibrated. His lips stretched back from his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut against the strain.

  A trigger.

  He did not want to die, did not want the Land to die. Lord Foul abhorred all life.

  Fiercely, he brought the orcrest and the white gold together in his mind, chose power.

  A burst of argent sprang off his forehead.

  Linden let out a stricken gasp. Sunder snatched back the orcrest. A gust of force blew out the lamp.

  Then Covenant's hands were free. Ignoring the sudden magma of renewed circulation, he raised his arms in front of him., opened his eyes.

  His hands blazed the colour of the full moon. He could feel the passion of the fire, but it did him no harm.

  The flames on his left swiftly faded, died. But his right hand grew brighter as the blaze focused on his ring, burning without a sound.

  Linden stared at him whitely, wildly. Sunder's eyes echoed the argent fire like a revelation too acute to bear.

  You are stubborn yet. Yes! Covenant panted. You don't begin to know how stubborn.

  With a thought, he struck the bonds from Linden's wrists. Then he reached for the Sunstone.

  As he took it from Sunder's stunned fingers, a piercing white light exploded from the stone. It shone like a sun in the small room. Linden ducked her head. Sunder covered his eyes with his free arm, waved his poniard uncertainly.

  “Wild magic,” Covenant said. His voice felt like flame in his mouth. The return of blood to his arms raked his nerves like claws. “Your knife means nothing. I have the wild magic. I'm not threatening you. I don't want to hurt anybody.” The night had become cold, yet sweat streamed down his face. “That's not why I'm here. But I won't let you kill us.”

  “Father!” Sunder cried in dismay. “Was it true? Was every, word that you spoke a word of truth?”

  Covenant sagged. He felt that he had accomplished his purpose; and at once a wave of fatigue broke through him. “Here.” His voice was hoarse with strain. “Take it.”

  “Take-?”

  “The Sunstone. It's yours.”

  Torn by this vision of power as if it turned the world he had always known to chaos, Sunder stretched out his hand, touched the bright orcrest. When its light did not burn him, he closed his fingers on it as if it were an anchor.

  With a groan, Covenant released the wild magic. Instantly, the fire went out as if he had severed it from his hand. The Sunstone was extinguished; the room plunged into midnight.

  He leaned back against the wall, hugged his pounding arms across his chest. Flares danced along his sight, turning slowly from white to orange and red. He felt exhausted; but he could not rest. He had silenced his power so that the Graveller would have a chance to refuse him. Now he had to meet the cost of his risk. Roughly, he forced out words. "I want to get away from here. Before anything else happens. Before that Raver tries something worse. But we need help. A guide. Somebody who knows the Sunbane. We can't survive alone. I want you."

  From out of the darkness, Sunder answered as if he were foundering, “I am the Graveller of Mithil Stonedown. My people hold me in their faith. How shall I betray my home to aid you?”

  “Sunder,” Covenant replied, striving to convey the extremity of his conviction, “I want to help the Land. I want to save it all. Including Mithil Stonedown.”

  For a long moment, the Graveller was silent. Covenant clinched his chest, did not allow himself to beg for Sunder's aid; but his heart beat over and over again, Please; I need you.

  Abruptly, Linden spoke in a tone of startling passion. “You shouldn't have to kill your own mother.”

  Sunder took a deep quivering breath. “I do not wish to shed her blood. Or yours. May my people forgive me.”

  Covenant's head swam with relief. He hardly heard himself say, “Then let's get started.”

  Seven: Marid

  FOR a moment, there was silence in the small room. Sunder remained still, as if he could not force his reluctant bones to act on his decision. Out of the darkness, he breathed thickly, “Thomas Covenant, do not betray me.”

  Before Covenant could try to reply, the Graveller turned, eased the curtain aside.

  Through the entryway, Covenant saw moonlight in the open centre of the Stonedown. Quietly, he asked, “What about guards?”

  “There are none here.” Sunder's voice was a rigid whisper. “Lives to be shed are left in the charge of the Graveller. It is fitting that one who will commit sacrifice should keep vigil with those whose blood will be shed. The Stonedown sleeps.”

  Covenant clenched himself against his fatigue and the Graveller's tone. “What about outside the village?”

  “Those guards we must evade.”

  Grimly, Sunder slipped out of the room.

  Linden began to follow the Stonedownor. But at Covenant's side she stopped, said softly, “Do you trust him? He already regrets this.”

  “I know,” Covenant responded. In the back of his mind, he cursed the acuity of her hearing. “I wouldn't trust anybody who didn't regret a decision like this.”

  She hesitated for a moment. She said bitterly, “I don't think regret is such a virtue.” Then she let herself out into the night.

  He stood still, blinking wearily at the dark. He felt wan with hunger; and the thought of what lay ahead sapped the little strength remaining to him. Linden's severity hurt him. Where had she learned to deny herself the simple humanity of regret?

  But he had no time for such things. His need to escape was absolute. Woodenly, he followed his companions out of the room.

  After the blackness behind him, the moon seemed bright. Sunder and Linden were distinct and vulnerable against the pale walls of the houses, waiting for him.
When he joined them, the Graveller turned northward immediately, began moving with barefoot silence between the dwellings. Linden shadowed him; and Covenant stayed within arm's reach of her back.

  As they neared the outer houses, Sunder stopped. He signed for Covenant and Linden to remain where they were. When Covenant nodded, Sunder crept away back into the Stonedown.

  Covenant tried to muffle his respiration. At his side, Linden stood with her fists clenched. Her lips moved soundlessly as if she were arguing with her fear. The night was chilly; Covenant's anxiety left a cold trail down the small of his back.

  Shortly, Sunder returned, bearing a dark oblong the size of a papaya. “Mirkfruit,” he whispered. At once, he moved off again.

  Like spectres, the three of them left Mithil Stonedown.

  From the last houses, Sunder picked his way toward the valley bottom. He travelled in a hah5 crouch, reducing his silhouette as much as possible. Linden followed his example; she seemed to flit through the moonlight as if she had been born sure-footed. But

  Covenant's toes were numb, and his legs were tired. He stumbled over the uneven ground.

  Abruptly, Sunder braced his hands on a rock, vaulted down into the long hollow of the riverbed.

  Linden jumped after him. Sand absorbed her landing. Swiftly, she joined Sunder in the shadow under the bank.

  Covenant hesitated on the edge. Looking downward, he became suddenly queasy with vertigo. He turned his head away. The barren length of the watercourse stretched serpentine out of the mountains on his left toward the South Plains on his right.

  Last night, the Mithil River had been full to overflowing.

  “Come!” whispered Sunder. “You will be seen.”

  Covenant jumped. He landed crookedly, sprawled in the sand. In an instant, Sunder reached his side, urged him to his feet. He ignored the Graveller. He dug his hands into the sand, groping for moisture. But even below the surface, the sand was completely dry. His hands raised dust that made him gag to stifle a cough.

  Impossible!

  The riverbed was as desiccated as a desert. Had the Law itself become meaningless?

  “Covenant!” Linden hissed.

  Sunder tugged at his shoulders. Fighting down a rush of blind rage, Covenant pulled his legs under him, stumbled into the shadow of the bank. A moment passed before he regained himself enough to look outward, away from his dismay.

  Sunder pointed downriver, toward the black arc of a bridge a few hundred feet away. “One guard,” he breathed. “The others can no longer descry us. But him we cannot pass unseen.”

  “What are we going to do?” whispered Linden.

  The Graveller motioned for silence. Hefting his mirkfruit, he crept away along the course, staying carefully under the shelter of the bank.

  Linden and Covenant followed.

  Their progress was slow. The river bottom was littered with rocks and unexpected holes, especially near the banks; Covenant had to watch his footing. Yet his gaze was drawn toward the bridge-the ominous black span blocking their way like a gate. He had crossed that bridge with Lena. And with Atiaran. The memory made his heart squirm.

  He caught no glimpse of the guard. The man must have been hiding behind the parapets of the span.

  Then they drew near the bridge, made their way under it. Covenant held his breath as Sunder moved to the riverbank. The Graveller climbed with acute caution; he eased his way upward as if every pebble and handful of dirt were treacherous. Slowly, he disappeared around the base of the bridge.

  Suspense shivered in the air as if the night were about to shatter. Covenant's lungs knotted, demanding relief. Linden huddled into herself.

  They heard a soft thud-the impact of Sunder's mirkfruit- followed by a groan, and the sound of a body falling on the stone over their heads.

  The Graveller dropped with alacrity back into the riverbed. “Now we must make haste,” he warned, “before another comes to ward in his place.” He sounded angry. Turning on his heel, he strode away as if what he had just done to someone he had known all his life were unsupportable.

  He set a stiff pace. Covenant and Linden had to hurry to keep up with him.

  Moonlight gave the night a crisp patina of old silver, as if the darkness itself were a work of fine-spun craft. Stars winked like instances of perfection above the rims of the mountains, which rose rugged into the unattainable heavens on either side. While his strength held, Covenant took pleasure in this opportunity to recover the tangible loveliness of the Land.

  But as the moon declined toward setting, and the spur of mountains on his left began to shrink, his momentum faltered. He was too weak. His heart limped as if it could not keep up with him; his muscles felt like sand. And escape was not enough; there was something else he had to do as well. With a dry croak, he called Sunder to a halt. Then he dropped to the ground, stretched out on his back, and sucked air.

  Linden stopped nearby, winded but still capable. And Sunder stood erect and impatient; he was tough as well as strong, inured to fatigue by a lifetime of difficult survival. The little he had seen and heard had taught Covenant that life in Mithil Stonedown was arduous and costly. Why else were these villagers willing to sacrifice their own parents-willing to condemn strangers and innocents to death? It was intolerable, that the bountiful Land he loved had come to this.

  He was still hunting fortitude when Sunder said stiffly, “Here we are safe enough until the sun's rising-at least while our absence remains undiscovered in the Stonedown. But it avails nothing merely to abide here, awaiting chance or doom. The Rider who approaches Mithil Stonedown may come upon us. He will surely pursue when he is told of our flight. You have asked me to guide you. Thomas Covenant, where will you go?”

  Groaning, Covenant pried himself into a sitting position. “First things first.” He had learned enough to be sure Sunder would not like the larger answer to that question. So he concentrated on his immediate purpose. “First I want to find Marid.”

  “Marid?” The Graveller gaped. “Did I not tell you the judgment of the Stonedown? He is condemned by ancient Rede and custom to the mercy of the Sunbane. It has already been done.”

  “I know,” Covenant muttered. “You told me. And I told you. He's innocent.”

  “Guilt or innocence,” retorted Sunder, “it avails nothing. It has already been done! The men and women entrusted with his doom returned before I came to speak with you.”

  Weariness eroded Covenant's self-mastery. He could hardly restrain his old rage. “What exactly did they do to him?”

  Sunder cast a look of exasperation at the stars. “They bore him into the Plains, and left him hound to await his judgment.”

  “Do you know where they left him?”

  “Somewhat. They spoke of their intent before departing. I was not among them to behold the very spot.”

  “That's good enough.” Covenant felt as weak as water; but he climbed to his feet and faced the Graveller. “Take us there.”

  “There is not time!” Sunder's visage was a tangle of darkness. “The distance is too great. We must find protection, lest we also fall prey to the sun's rising.”

  “But Marid is innocent.” Covenant sounded wild to himself, but did not care. “The only reason that Raver used him was because of us. I'm not going to let him be punished. Goddamn it.” He grabbed roughly at Sunder's jerkin. “Guide us! I've got too much blood on my hands already.”

  In a low strained tone, as if he had just glimpsed some crucial and frightening truth, the Graveller said, “You do not understand the Sunbane.”

  “Then explain it. What are you so afraid of?”

  “We will suffer Marid's doom!”

  From behind Sunder, Linden said, “He means it. He thinks something awful is going to happen when the sun comes up.”

  With an effort, Covenant forced himself to release Sunder. He faced Linden, bit down on his voice to keep it quiet. “What do you think?”

  She was silent for a moment. Then she said harshly, “I didn
't believe you when you said Joan was possessed. But I saw that Raver myself. I saw Marid afterward. The Raver was gone.” She carved each word distinctly in the night air. “If you want to stay with Sunder, I'll go looking for Marid myself.”

  “Heaven and Earth!” protested Sunder. “Did I betray my home merely so that you may meet ruin for a man you cannot save? If you place one foot amiss, you will end in beseeching the stones themselves for death!”

  Covenant gazed into the darkness where Linden stood, gathering strength from her. Softly, he replied to Sunder, “He was your friend.”

  “You are mad!” Sunder raged. “Nassic my father was mad!” He snatched up a stone, hurled it against the riverbank. “I am mad.” Then he whirled on Covenant. Anger hammered in his voice. “Very well. I will guide you. But I will not”- his fist hit at the night — “suffer the destruction of the Sunbane for any man or woman, mad or sane,”

  Wrenching himself into motion, he turned and scrambled up out of the riverbed.

  Covenant remained looking toward Linden. He wanted to thank her for her support, her willingness to risk herself in the name of Marid's innocence. But she brushed past him after Sunder. “Come on,” she said over her shoulder. “We've got to hurry. Whatever it is he's afraid of, I don't think I'm going to like it.”

  He watched her while she climbed the bank. End in beseeching — He rubbed his right hand across his chin, verified his ring against the stiff stubble of his beard. Then he marshalled his waning resources and struggled to follow his companions.

  On level ground, he found himself in an entirely different landscape. Except for the ragged weal of the Mithil, the Plains were nearly featureless. They spread north and west as far as he could see, marked only by the faint undulations of the terrain-bare even of shrubs or piles of rock. The low moonlight gave them an appearance of ghostly sterility, as if they had been weathered barren by ages of implacable thirst.