Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant (97 page)

“It is certain that she is not,” put in Grueburn affectionately.

“-but because,” Coldspray explained, “I am able to best those who are mightier. Therefore the teaching of Exalt Widenedworld became my particular task.

“Gifted as he was, and exuberant of heart, within brief decades I found myself hard pressed to master him. And one day, by doom or ill chance, I misjudged his growth in our craft. With cunning rather than strength, I caused what I believed to be a breach in his

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self-defense, and into that breach I struck, intending to slap his forehead with the flat of my blade, blunt stone which the Swordmainnir wield in training. However, he had in some measure foiled me. By his own cunning, he had drawn me beyond my balance, and there he strove to turn my blade. Sadly either too little cunning or too much betrayed him. Because he had unbalanced me, I struck with too much force. And because he turned but did not deflect my blade, I struck

with its edge.”

Liand winced, and Pahni stifled a sigh. But they said nothing. Like Linden, they were held by the Giant’s tale.

“You have beheld the extent of his wound.” An undercurrent of self-recrimination troubled Coldspray’s tone. “At that time, we did not. We saw only that the bone of his visage had been broken. Therefore we tended him. Of necessity, the Swordmainnir study

healing as well as warcraft. And Giants are hardy. We were grieved by the severity of his wound, but we did not fear for his life. Nor did Filigree and Gladbirth dread that he would perish, though they were likewise grieved.

Now we have learned that death would have been a gentler fate.”

The Ironhand accepted a few aliantha from Galesend; ate them without haste; discarded the seeds. Then she

resumed.

“His recovery was slow and arduous, and even in delirancy he did not speak. Remembering Cable Seadreamer, whose gift or affliction of Earth-Sight resulted from a similar wound, and who was rendered mute by visions, we considered that perhaps Exalt Widenedworld would also display signs of Earth-Sight. But he did not. Rather he arose one day from his bed, seemingly without cause or alteration,

and announced his intention to ‘slay’ some nameless ‘her.’ Then he struck down or forced aside the Giants tending him and hastened toward our harborage, apparently seeking a vessel to bear him.

“The Swordmainnir captured him. What else might we have done? And when we discovered that we could not relieve his purpose-that no strength or kindness, no speech or expression of love, no medicament or

diamondraught, calmed his violent resolve-we bound him. We had no recourse. Unrestrained, he harmed all who warded him. Again and again, he sought the harbor, and his mad wrath was terrible to those who opposed him.

“At first, his only words were, ‘Slay her.’ Later he inquired if we were fools. And no binding held him. Mere rope he parted as though it were twine. So great was his strength that he sundered hawsers. Fetters of wood

became kindling on his limbs. Finally we were compelled to fashion shackles of heavy granite. Unwilling to end his life or cripple him, we knew no other means to contain his fury.

“Thereafter we gathered in Giantclave to choose what we must do. And while we debated together, he whom none now called Exalt Widenedworld shattered his bonds. With his fists, he battered senseless Soar Gladbirth his father and caused the death of Filigree

his mother. When his escape was discovered, he had already taken to the sea in a small craft, a tyrscull, apparently intending to sail alone to the ends of the Earth in search of the ‘her’ whom he desired to ‘slay.”’

Mahrtiir’s hands clenched each other as though he gripped his emotions in a garrote. Stave listened without expression.

“We recaptured him. Again we bound

him in stone, he raving, ‘Slay her!’ all the while, and, ‘Are you fools?’ Only Swordmainnir stood guard over him, risking no other Giants.

“Now the disputes of the Giantclave had ceased to be, ‘How may we relieve his madness?’ They had become simply, ‘How may we prevent further harm?’ And our dilemma was this. We are lovers of stone. We are not cunning in ironwork. We disdain none of the metals of the Earth. Much we

have acquired in trade and seafaring. But our hearts are turned elsewhere. Yet it had been made plain that we required iron to bind Lostson Longwrath. We could conceive of no other means to constrain his wildness.

“Therefore we resolved to convey Longwrath to the land of the Bhrathair, where iron is artfully forged-and commonly traded, for the Bhrathair meet the many needs of their inhospitable home with commerce. We

ten of the Swordmainnir were given a compact dromond which we christened Dire’s Vessel. A crew was chosen so that we need not be distracted from Longwrath’s care. Grieving and baffled, we set our sails for Bhrathairealm.”

Linden held her breath without realizing it. She felt neither the chill of the night nor the warmth of the fire. Long ago, she had visited Bhrathairealm with Covenant and the Giants of the Search. Kasreyn of the Gyre had tried

to destroy them. Both Hergrom and Ceer had been slain.

“I will not consume the night with tales of our voyage,” Rime Coldspray promised, “though it was much beleaguered, and for a time we wandered, helpless, in the toils of the Soulbiter. I am content to say that at last we found our course to known seas. Among the fading storms of summer, we gained shelter in Bhrathairain Harbor.

“Our sojourn there was protracted for several causes. The shackles which we required could not be quickly fashioned. And the Bhrathair bargained stringently, perceiving the scale of our need. Their need also was great, for a fearsome calamity-or perchance an extraordinary redemption—had befallen them.

“Some centuries past, the eldritch prison of Sandgorgons Doom had frayed and failed. By unguessed

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means, the Sandgorgons of the Great Desert had achieved their freedom. Yet their bestial savagery was but rarely turned toward Bhrathairealm. Against all likelihood, the Bhrathair were left in peace for decades together. When they were struck, the damage was slight.

But no more than a moon or two before our arrival, the Sandgorgons appeared to conceive an unprecedented assault. United by some unknown force, a considerable

number attacked the Sandwall of Bhrathairealm in a bayamo of immeasurable strength.”

Remembering how Sandgorgons had slaughtered Roger’s Cavewights, Linden bit her lip until she tasted blood.

“The Bhrathair feared extermination. However, it transpired that the Sandgorgons had another purpose. They did not wage warfare. Rather they merely bludgeoned a path through an

obstacle. When they had breached the Sandwall, maimed the Sandhold, and torn passage across the heart of Bhrathairain Town, they disappeared into the sea. To the wonder of the Bhrathair, an uncounted host of Sandgorgons had departed.

“Therefore the ironworkers of

Bhrathairealm bartered greedily. They craved the service of Giants to restore the Sandwall, to secure the remnants of the Sandhold, and to clear the debris

from Bhrathairain Town.

“Even discounting our need to bind Longwrath,” Coldspray admitted, “we would have aided the Bhrathair willingly, loving as we do both stone and friendship. But our stay among them was prolonged by another cause also. While we labored, awaiting the preparation of shackles, we found that we were unable to imprison Longwrath. His madness appeared daily to increase his might. Or mayhap he

gained aid by some unknown theurgy. Time and again, he escaped the donjons of the Bhrathair and our own vigilance. Time and again, we recaptured him in Bhrathairain Harbor while he strove to claim a vessel.

“Still he would say only, ‘Slay her,’ and, ‘Are you fools?”’

“Aye,” muttered the Giant who tended the fire. “and we came to abhor the sound of those words in his mouth. We

were not inured by repetition. Rather each utterance appeared to augment the meaning of his derangement. As by accretion, he acquired the authority of Earth-Sight.”

Coldspray nodded. “Soon the Bhrathair grew fearful of his violence. They hastened the making of his shackles. And when he was bound in iron, we thought him helpless at last. His bonds he could not break. While we watched over him, he remained passive.

Therefore we attempted to complete our promised service. By increments, the Swordmainnir became complacent.
became complacent. Trusting iron, we joined the Giants of Dire’s Vessel in our agreed labors.p>

“However, we were indeed fools, as he had named us. During our absence from his donjon, he escaped his bonds, leaving them unopened and undamaged.”

Joan, Linden thought. Oh, God. For weeks, Covenant’s ex-wife had slipped repeatedly, impossibly, out of her restraints.

“And now he eluded us,” Coldspray stated grimly. “We found no sign of him, neither at the harbor nor aboard any ship, nor along the length of the Sandwall. We discovered only that he had breached the armory of the Sandhold, beating aside its sentries to claim a sword. Thereafter it appeared

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to us that he had disappeared into the sea, as the Sandgorgons had done.

“When all our searching had proven fruitless, we elected to depart, thinking Longwrath lost and our purpose unmade. Approval was granted without demur, for the Bhrathair had learned to consider our presence costly. As the Harbor Captain escorted us aboard Dire’s Vessel, however, we found Longwrath there before us, though earlier we had sought him assiduously.

He stood like a heading near the prow of the dromond with his new blade sheathed at his back. And he did not resist when we affixed his shackles. Yet he struggled frantically when we strove to move him from his place. When we attempted merely to withdraw his sword, he fell into frothing frenzy. Therefore we left him as he was, bound and armed and calmed, with his gaze fixed before him.

“Ere we set sail, the Harbor Captain

informed us that Longwrath faced in the direction taken by the Sandgorgons.”

Of course, Linden sighed, bleak in the darkness. Of course. Hugging her Staff, she faced Rime Coldspray and tried to contain her apprehension. Lord Foul was calling in his allies.

Joan had become calmer, if not more reactive or accessible, when Linden had “armed” her by returning her ring.

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“Linden Avery,” the Ironhand said with regret, “we were entirely mystified-and felt entirely witless. Though Earth-Sight occurs seldom among us, it has never taken the form of murderous rage. Yet we had failed to manage our charge. We had failed dramatically. Indeed, we could not in good sooth name him our prisoner, for his madness or his theurgy had exceeded us.

“Therefore we took counsel together,

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the Swordmainnir and the Giants of Dire’s Vessel. After much debate, we determined to put aside our opposition for a time. While we could, we would set our sails to the heading of Longwrath’s desire. Thereby we hoped to learn the meaning of his madness.

“Thus Lostson Longwrath became our lodestone.

“The season was now winter,” Coldspray explained as if she spoke for

the gravid dark. “In those seas, the gales of winter possess a legendary virulence. Yet we were neither beset nor becalmed. Guided by Longwrath’s gaze, we encountered naught but favorable winds and kind passage. The shackles did not fall from his limbs. While he retained his sword, he accepted food and care, and offered no harm. And soon it became clear to even our crudest reckonings that his face was turned toward the Land.”

Liand and Pahni held each other with growing comprehension in their faces. Bhapa sat with his head lowered and his eyes covered as if he endeavored to emulate Mahrtiir’s blindness. The Manethrall gripped himself fiercely. Only Stave remained unmoved.

Acknowledging the reactions of her audience, Coldspray said, “Then did we truly question the wisdom of our course. That we were unwelcome in the Land we knew, but the attitude of

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the Masters did not alarm us. For centuries, they have proffered only discouragement, not resistance. No, our concern was this. If indeed we traced the path of the Sandgorgons, as the Harbor Captain had suggested, we feared that a grave peril gripped the Land, and that we fared toward havoc which we were too few to oppose.

“Thus among us the words ‘slay’ and her and ‘fools’ gained new import.”

She sighed. “And as winter became spring, we found new cause to debate our course, for it grew evident that Longwrath directed Dire’s Vessel toward the noisome banes of Lifeswallower, the Great Swamp. There we were unwilling to follow his rapt gaze. The foulness of Lifeswallower dismayed our senses. Also we remembered the tales of the Search, which warned of the lurker of the Sarangrave, and of the lurker’s servants, the corrosive skest.

“Therefore we turned aside from Longwrath’s hunger. Sailing northward along the littoral of the Land, we sought a safer harborage in The Grieve of the Unhomed.

“We did not doubt our choice,” Coldspray stated in sadness and defiance. “We do not question it now. Yet we learned at once that the ease of our voyage was ended. Contrary and unseasonable winds opposed our course, compelling us to beat

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ceaselessly against them. And

Longwrath emerged from his

quiescence to rave and struggle. Had we permitted it, he would have hurled himself, iron-bound, into the sea. No less than three Swordmainnir were needed to restrain him-and five if we touched his blade. Yet we were also required among the sheets and canvas, for Dire’s Vessel was sorely tried, and every element conspired to thwart us.

“Still we are Giants, not readily daunted. Our race has striven with sea and wind for millennia. We ourselves had endured the travail of the Soulbiter. We persisted, exerting our skill and strength to their utmost. At last, we gained anchorage in Coercri, ancient and ruined, The Grieve of the Unhomed.”

The Ironhand paused as if to acknowledge what she and her comrades had accomplished. When

Coldspray fell silent, however, Linden’s attention drifted. She remembered too much. In Coercri, Covenant had given a caamora to the Dead of the Unhomed. She needed him. And she did not have to hear the rest of the Swordmain’s story to know where it was going.

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