The Wounded Land t2cotc-1

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  Linden cried out. But the Haruchai understood, and did not move.

  The First joined Pitchwife. Kneeling on the stone, she clamped her hands around a raging log and held it.

  Seadreamer did not stop at the edge of the flames. Surging as if the Earth-Sight had deprived him of all restraint, he hurled his whole body into the fire, stood there with the blaze writhing about him like the utterance of his agony.

  Caamora: the ritual fire of grief. Only in such savage physical hurt could the Giants find release and relief for the hurting of their souls.

  Covenant had been waiting for this, anticipating and dreading it. Caamora. Fire. Foamfollower had walked selflessly into the magma of Hotash Slay and had emerged as the Pure One.

  The prospect terrified him. But he had no other solution to the venom in his veins, to the power he could not master, had no other answer to the long blame of the past. The Dead repeated their doom in The Grieve above him, damned to die that way forever unless he could find some grace for them. Foamfollower had given his life gladly so that Covenant and the Land could live. Covenant began moving, advancing toward the fire.

  Brinn and Hergrom opposed him. But then they saw the hope and ruin in his eyes. They stepped aside.

  “Covenant!”

  Linden came running toward him. But Cail caught her, held her back.

  Heat shouted against Covenant's face like the voice of his destiny; but he did not stop. He could not stop. Entranced and compelled, he rode the mourning of the Sea forward.

  Into the fire.

  At once, he became wild magic and grief, burning with an intense white flame that no other blaze could touch. Shining like the gem of the krill, he strode among the logs and embers to Seadreamer's side. The Giant did not see him, was too far gone in agony to see him. Remembering Foamfollower's pain, Covenant thrust at Seadreamer. Wild magic blasted the Giant from the fire, sent him sprawling across the cold stone.

  Slowly, Covenant looked around at his companions. They were distorted by the flames, gazing at him as if he were a ghoul. Linden's appalled stare hurt him. Because he could not reply to her in any other way, he turned to his purpose.

  He took hold of the wild magic, shaped it according to his will, so that it became his own ritual, an articulation of compassion and rage for all torment, all loss.

  Burning, he opened himself to the surrounding flames.

  They rushed to incinerate him; but he was ready. He mastered the bonfire with argence, bent it to his command. Flame and power were projected outward together, so that the blaze lashed tremendously into the night.

  He spread his arms to the city, stretched himself as if he yearned to embrace the whole of The Grieve.

  In wild magic, white puissance without sound, he shouted: x

  Come! This is the caamora! Come and be healed!

  And they came. His might and his will interrupted the masque, broke the geas which locked the Dead in their weird damnation. Hearing him, they turned as if they had been waiting through all the long ages of their anguish for his call. In throngs and eagerness, they began flowing down the passages of Coercri.

  Like a river, they swept out onto the headrock of the piers.

  Toward the fire.

  The Giant-Raver tried to pursue them. But the breaking of their eternal round seemed to break also his hold over them, break the spell of his maleficent glee. His form frayed as he moved, blurred until he was only a tingling green smear of memory across The Grieve-until he faded into the night, and was lost.

  And the Dead continued toward the fire.

  The Haruchai drew back, taking Linden and the Stonedownors with them. Pitchwife and the First went with aching bones to tend Seadreamer.

  Vain did not move. He stood in the path of the Dead and watched Covenant's immolation with gaiety in his eyes.

  But the Dead passed around him, streamed forward. Need and hope shone through their pearl faces.

  Reaching out to them as if they were all one, as if they were only Foamfollower in multiform guise, Covenant took them into his embrace, and wept white fire.

  The wild magic struck pain into them, seared them the way a physical conflagration would have seared their bodies. Their forms went rigid, jaws stretched, eyes stared-spectres screaming in soul-anguish. But the screaming was also laughter.

  And the laughter prevailed.

  Covenant could not hold them. They came into his arms, but they had no bodies that he could hug. Nothing filled his embrace; no contact or benison restored him to himself. He might have been alone in the fire.

  Yet the laughter stayed with him. It was glad mirth, joy and restitution which Foamfollower would have known how to share. It ran in his ears like the Sea and sustained him until everything else was gone-until his power was spent against the heavens, and the night closed over him like all the waters of the world.

  Twenty Seven: Giantfriend

  THE next morning, the dromond Starfare's Gem arrived in a gleam of white sails, as if it had been newly created from the sun's reflection on the blue Sea. It hove into sight like a stone castle riding gallantly before the wind, beautifully both, swift and massive, matching the grace and strength of the Giants.

  Covenant watched its approach from the cliff above Coercri. He sat far enough back from the edge to appease his fear of heights, but close enough to have a good view. Linden, Sunder, and Hollian were with him, though he had only asked for the company of the two Stonedownors. Brinn and Cail, Stell and Harn were there also. And Vain had followed Covenant or Linden up through The Grieve, though his blackness offered no explanation of why he had done so. Only Hergrom and Ceer remained below with the Giants.

  Earlier, Sunder had told Covenant how he had been saved when his power failed. Linden had watched him amid the blaze, reading his wild magic, gauging the limits of his endurance. One moment before the white flame had guttered and gone out, she had shouted a warning. Seadreamer had dashed into the bonfire and had emerged on the far side with Covenant in his arms, unharmed. Even Covenant's clothing had not been singed.

  In the dawn, he had awakened as if from the first irenic sleep of his life. Sunrise had lain across the headrock of the city, lighting the faces of Linden and the First as they sat regarding him. The First had worn her iron beauty as if behind it lay a deep gentleness. But Linden's gaze was ambiguous, undecided.

  In a severe tone, she asked, “Why didn't you tell me what you were going to do?”

  “I didn't dare,” he replied, giving her the truth. “I was too afraid of it. I couldn't even admit it to myself.”

  She shifted her position, drawing somewhat away from him. “I thought you'd gone crazy.”

  He sighed, allowed himself to express at least that much of his loneliness. “Maybe I did. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.”

  She frowned and fell silent, looking away toward the Sunbirth Sea. After a moment, the First roused herself to speak.

  “Thomas Covenant,” she said, “I know not whether in truth the path of the Search lies with you. I have not seen with my own eyes the Sunbane, nor met in my own person the malice of him whom you name the Despiser, nor felt in my own heart the nature of what must be done. But Pitchwife urges that I trust you. Cable Seadreamer has beheld a vision of healing, when he had learned to believe that no healing remained in all the world. And for myself-” She swallowed thickly, "I would gladly follow a man who can so give peace to the damned.

  “Giantfriend,” she said, containing her emotion with formality, “the Search will bear you to the land of the Elohim. There we believe that knowledge of the One Tree may be gained. If it lies within our doing, we will accompany you to the Tree, hoping for an answer to the peril of the Earth. This we will do in the name of our people, who have been redeemed from their doom.”

  She passed a hand over her tears and moved away, leaving him eased, as if it were the outcome of his dreams.

  But he arose, because there were still things he had to do, needs to be met, responsibilities
to be considered. He spoke to the Stonedownors, led them to the upper rim of Coercri with Linden, the Haruchai, and Vain behind him, sat facing the morning and the Sea and the unknown Earth.

  Now he would have liked to be alone with the aftermath of his caamora. But he could see the time of his departure from the Land arriving. It sailed the same salt wind which ruffled his hair and beard, and he knew he had no choice. Every day, more lives were shed to feed the Sunbane. The Land's need was a burden he could not carry alone.

  For a time, he sat exchanging silence with his companions. But at last he found the will to speak. “Sunder. Hollian.” They sat attentively, as if he had become a figure of awe. He felt like a butcher as he said, “I don't want you to come with me.”

  The eh-Brand's eyes widened as if he had slapped her without warning or cause. Surprise and pain made Sunder snap, “Ur-Lord?”

  Covenant winced, fumbled to apologize. “I'm sorry. This is hard to say. I didn't mean it the way it sounded.” He took hold of himself. “There's something else I want you to do.”

  Hollian frowned at him, echoing Sunder's uncertainty.

  “It's the Sunbane,” he began. “I'm going to leave the Land-try to find the One Tree. So I can replace the Staff of Law. I don't know what else to do. But the Clave-” He swallowed at the anger rising in his throat. “I don't know how long I'm going to be gone, and every day they kill more people. Somebody has to stop them. I want you to do it.”

  He stared out to Sea, went on speaking as if he feared the reaction of his friends. “I want you to go back to the Upper Land. To the villages-to every Stonedown or Woodhelven you can find. Tell them the truth about the Clave. Convince them. Make them stop surrendering to the Riders. So the Sunbane won't destroy everything before I get back.”

  “Thomas Covenant.” Sunder's fists were clenched as if to hold off outrage. “Have you forgotten Mithil Stonedown? Have you forgotten Stonemight Woodhelven? The people of the Land shed strangers to answer their own need for blood. We will convince no one. We will be slain by the first Stonedown we dare to enter.”

  “No.” Covenant shook his head flatly. He knew what he meant to do, and felt sure of it. “You'll have something that will make them listen to you. And you can use it to defend yourselves if you have to.” With both hands, he removed the cloth-wrapped krill from under his belt, and extended it toward Sunder.

  “Covenant?” The Graveller looked his astonishment at Linden, at Hollian, then back toward Covenant. Linden sat with her eyes downcast, watching the way her fingers touched the stone. But Hollian's face brightened as if in recognition. “The krill is yours,” Sunder murmured, asking for comprehension. “I am a Graveller-nothing more. Of what use is such a periapt to me?”

  Deliberately, Covenant held out his hope. "I think you can attune yourself to it. The way you did to Memla's rukh. I think you can use the krill the way you use the Sunstone. And if you put the two together, you won't need to shed blood to have power. You can use the krill to rouse the orcrest. You'll be able to raise water, grow plants, do it all. Without blood. Any village will listen to that. They won't try to kill you. They'll try to keep you.

  “And that's not all. This is power. Proof that the Sunbane isn't the whole truth. It proves that they have a choice. They don't have to obey the Clave, don't have to let themselves be slaughtered.”

  With a twitch of his hands, he flung off part of the cloth so that the krill shone into the faces of his companions. “Sunder,” he implored. “Hollian. Take it. Convince them. We're all responsible — all of us who know the na-Mhoram is a Raver. Don't let the Clave go on killing them.” The light of the krill filled his orbs; he could not see how his friends responded. “Give me a chance to save them.”

  For a moment, he feared the Stonedownors would refuse the burden he offered them. But then the krill was taken from him. Sunder flipped cloth back over the gem. Carefully, he rewrapped the blade, tucked it away under his leather jerkin. His eyes gleamed like echoes of white fire.

  “Thomas Covenant,” he said, "ur-Lord and Unbeliever, white gold wielder, I thank you. It is sooth that my heart did not relish this quest across unknown seas and lands. I have no knowledge of such matters and little strength for them. You have Giants with you, and Haruchai, and the power of the white ring. I am of no use to you.

  “I have learned that the Sunbane is a great evil. But it is an evil which I comprehend and can confront.” Hollian's countenance supported his words. Her relief was a glow of gratitude. “I desire to strive somewhat for my people-and to strive against this Clave, which so maligns our lives.”

  Covenant blinked at the repetitions of silver arcing across his sight. He was too proud of Sunder and Hollian to speak.

  They rose to their feet. “Ur-Lord,” the Graveller said, “we will do as you ask. If any blow may be struck against Clave and Sunbane by mortals such as we are, we will strike it. You have restored to me the faith of Nassic my father. Be certain of us while we live.”

  “And be swift,” added Hollian, “for we are but two, and the Sunbane is as vast as all the Land.”

  Covenant had not noticed Stell and Ham unobtrusively leave the cliff; but they returned now, carrying supplies on their backs. Before Covenant or the Stonedownors could speak, Brinn said, “The Sunbane is indeed vast, but you will not meet it alone. The Haruchai will not surrender their service. And I say to you that my people also will not suffer the Clave unopposed. Look for aid wherever you go, especially when your way leads within reach of Revelstone.”

  Sunder swallowed thickly, unable to master his voice. Hollian's eyes reflected the sunshine wetly.

  The sight of them standing there in their courage and peril made Covenant's fragile calm ache. “Get going,” he said huskily. “We'll be back. Count on it.”

  In a rush of emotion, Hollian came to him, stooped to grip her arms around his neck and kiss his face. Then she went to Linden. Linden returned her embrace stiffly.

  A moment later, the Stonedownors turned away. They left the cliff with Stell and Harn beside them.

  Covenant watched them go. The two Haruchai moved as if nothing could ever change who they were. But Sunder and Hollian walked like people who had been given the gift of meaning for their lives. They were just ordinary people, pitifully small in comparison to the task they had undertaken; and yet their valour was poignant to behold. As they passed over the ridge where the ruined lighthouse stood, they had their arms around each other.

  After a moment, Linden broke the silence. “You did the right thing.” Her voice wore severity like a mask. “They've been uncomfortable ever since we left Landsdrop-the Sunbane is the only world they understand. And they've lost everything else. They need to do something personal and important. But you-” She stared at him as if in her eyes he had become an object of fear and desire. “I don't know you. I don't know if you're the strongest man I've ever met, or the sickest. With all that venom in you, you still-I don't know what I'm doing here.” Without a pause, as if she were still asking the same question, she said, “Why did you give them the krill? I thought you needed it. A weapon against Vain.”

  Yes, Covenant breathed. And an alternative to wild magic. That's what I thought. But by accepting the krill, Sunder and Hollian had made it once more into a tool of hope. “I don't want any more weapons,” he murmured to Linden. “I'm already too dangerous.”

  She held his gaze. The sudden clarity of her expression told him that, of all the things he had ever said to her, this, at least, was one she could comprehend.

  Then a shout echoed up the face of Coercri. “Giantfriend!” It was Pitchwife's voice. “Come! Starfare's Gem approaches!”

  The echoes went on in Covenant's mind after the shout had faded. Giantfriend. He was who he was, a man half crippled by loneliness and responsibility and regret. But he had finally earned the title the First had given him.

  The dromond came drifting slowly, neatly, toward the piers. Its rigging was full of Giants furling the sails.

&n
bsp; Carefully, like a man who did not want to die, Covenant got to his feet. With Linden, Brinn, and Cail, he left the cliff.

  They went down to meet the ship.

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