The 1st Chronicles of Thomas Covenant #2: The Illearth War (34 page)

After a pause to steady herself, Lord Amatin returned to her inquiry. “Amok, the Wards which we have found contain various knowledges on many subjects. It is so with the Seventh Ward?”

Amok seemed to think that this was a penetrating question. He bowed to her as seriously as his bubbling spirits permitted, and said, “Lord, the Seventh Ward has many uses, but I am only one answer.”

“What answer are you?”

“I am the way and the door.”

“How so?”

“That is my answer.”

Lord Amatin looked toward Elena and Mhoram

for suggestions, and Troy took the opportunity to ask, “The way and the door to what?”

With a chuckle, Amok replied, “Those who know me have no need for my name.”

“Yes, I remember,” Troy growled. “And among those who do not know you, you are named Amok. Why don’t you think of something else to say?”

“Think of some other question,” the youth retorted gaily.

Troy retreated, baffled, and after a moment Lord Amatin was ready to continue.

“Amok, knowledge is the way and door of power. The Earthpower answers those who know its name. How great is the power of the Seventh Ward?”

“It is the pinnacle of Kevin’s Lore,” said Amok slyly, as if he were making a subtle joke.

“Can it be used to defeat the Despiser?”

“Power is power. Its uses are in the hands of the user.”

“Amok,” Amatin said, then hesitated. She seemed almost afraid of her next question. But she clenched her resolve, and spoke it. “Does the Seventh Ward contain knowledge of the Ritual of Desecration?”

“Lord, Desecration requires no knowledge. It comes freely to any willing hand.”

The Lord sighed, then turned to Asuraka and asked the Staff-Elder for advice.

Asuraka referred the question to Drinishok, but he was out of his element, and could offer her nothing. On an impulse, she turned to Corimini. The two conferred in hushed tones for a moment. When Asuraka returned to Amok, she said tentatively, “Amok, the other Wards teach knowledge concerning power. Are you the power of the Seventh Ward?”

“I am the way and the door.”

“Do you bear the power itself within you?” she insisted.

For a moment, Amok appeared to study the legitimacy of this question. Then he said simply, “No.”

“Are you a teacher?”

“I am the way and — ”

Suddenly Lord Amatin grasped a new idea, and interrupted Amok. “You are a guide.”

“Yes.”

“You were created to teach us the location of some knowledge or power?”

“Ah, that may be as it happens. Much is taught, but few learn.”

“Where is this power?”

“Where all such powers should be-hidden.”

“What is the power?”

Laughing, the youth replied, “There is a time for all things.” Then he added,

“Those who know me have no need of my name.”

Amatin sagged, and turned away toward the High Lord. Her thin face held a look of strain as she admitted defeat. Around her, the assembly of the Loresraat sighed as the people shared her disappointment. But the High Lord answered Amatin by stepping calmly forward, and planting the Staff of Law in front of Amok. In a voice soft and confident, she said, “Amok, will you guide me?”

With an unexpected seriousness, Amok bowed. “High Lord, yes. If the white gold permits.”

“Don’t ask me for permission,” Covenant said quickly. But no one listened to him.

The High Lord smiled and asked, “Where will we go?”

The youth did not speak, but he gave a general nod toward the Westron Mountains.

“And when will we go?”

“Whenever the High Lord desires.” Throwing back his head, he began to laugh again as if he were releasing an overflow of high humor. “Think of me, and I will join you.”

As he laughed, he flourished his arms intricately, and vanished.

Either his power was stronger than before, or he moved more swiftly; Troy

.caught no last glimpse of him.

The Warmark found that he regretted Amok’s appearance intensely.

Soon after that, the gathering of the Loresraat broke up. The Lorewardens and students of the Staff hurried away to begin analyzing what had happened, and Drinishok ordered all his students and fellow teachers away to the practice fields. Elena, Mhoram, and Amatin went with Corimini and Staff-Elder Asuraka to their main library. In moments, Troy, Covenant, and Bannor were the only people left in the bowl.

Troy felt that he should speak with Covenant; there were things that he needed to understand. But he feared that he would not be able to keep his temper, so he also moved away, leaving Bannor to help Covenant struggle off the net. He wanted to talk to the High Lord, ask her why she had made such a foolhardy offer to Amok. But he was not in command of his emotions. He climbed out of the viancome, and strode away along one of the boughs toward Drinishok’s quarters.

In the Sword-Elder’s larder, he ate a little bread and meat, and drank quantities of springwine in an ,effort to dissipate the dark sensation of foreboding which Amok had given him. The idea that Elena might wander off somewhere with the youth, hunting for a cryptic and probably useless power when she was desperately needed elsewhere, made him grind his teeth in frustration. His heart groaned with a prescience that told him he was going to lose her. The Land was going to lose her. Searching for balance, he consumed a great deal of springwine. But it did not steady him; his brain reeled as if dangerous winds -were buffeting him.

Early in the afternoon, he went in search of the Lords, but one of the Lorewardens soon told him that they were closeted with Asuraka, studying the lomillialor communication rods. So he descended to the ground, whistled for Mehryl, and rode away from Revelwood with Ruel at his side. He wanted to visit the grave of the student who had summoned him to the Land.

Covenant had said, It isn’t you they’ve got faith in at all. It’s the student who summoned you. Troy needed to think about that. He could not simply shrug it away. One reason he distrusted Covenant was because the Unbeliever had first been called by Drool Rockworm at Lord Foul’s behest. Did the nature of the summoner have any connection to the worth of the one summoned?

Furthermore, Covenant had referred to that student strangely, as if he knew something about -the young man Troy did not know.

Troy went to the place of his summons hoping that its physical context, its concrete location in Trothgard, would ease his vague fears and forebodings. He needed to regain his self-confidence. He knew he could not challenge Elena’s decision to follow Amok if he did not believe in himself.

But when he reached the site of the grave, he found Trell there. The big Gravelingas knelt by the grassy mound as if he were praying. When he heard Troy’s approach, -he raised his head suddenly, and his face was so swollen with grief that it struck Troy momentarily dumb. He could think of no reason why Trell Gravelingas should be here grieving.

Before Troy could collect his thoughts to ask for an explanation, Trell jumped up and hastened away toward his mount, which he had tethered nearby.

“Trell — !” Troy started to call after him, but Ruel interposed flatly, “Warmark, let him go”

Troy turned in surprise toward the Bloodguard. Ruel’s visage was as passionless as ever, but something in the way his eyes followed Trell seemed to express an unwonted sympathy. Carefully Troy said, “Why? I don’t understand.”

“That you must ask the High Lord,” Ruel replied without inflection.

“I’m asking you!” the Warmark snapped before he could control his irritation.

“Nevertheless.”

With an effort, Troy mastered himself. Ruel’s mien said as plainly as words that he was acting on the High Lord’s instructions, and that nothing which did not threaten her life could induce him to disobey her. “All right,” Troy said stiffly. “I’ll do that.” Turning Mehryl, he trotted after Trell’s galloping mount back toward Revelwood.

But when he reentered the Valley of Two Rivers

and approached the Tree, he found Drinishok waiting impatiently for him. The Lords had announced that they would leave Revelwood the next morning, and the Sword-Elder wanted Troy to discuss the defense of the city with all the Lorewardens and students of the Sword. This was a responsibility which Troy could not ignore, so while his private fog turned to dusk and then to night blindness, he addressed the assembled discipline of the Sword. He did not even try to see what he was talking about; he went into the strategy of the Valley from memory.

But when he was done, he found that he had lost his chance to talk to the Lords.

In the darkness, he seemed to lack courage as well as vision. After his lecture, he went to Drinishok’s home, and shared a meal full of indigestible lumps of silence with the Sword-Elder. Then he went to bed early; he could not endure any more of the blurred half-sight of torches. Drinishok respected his mood, and left him alone. In blind isolation, he stared uselessly into the darkness, and tried to recover his balance. He felt certain that he was going to lose Elena.

He ached to talk to her, to dissuade her, cling to her. But the next morning, when all the riders gathered with their mounts just after dawn on the south side of the great Tree, he found that he could not confront the High Lord with his fears. Sitting regally on Myrha’s back in the gleam of day, she had too much presence, too much personal authority. He could not deny or challenge her. And while she was surrounded by so many people, he could not ask her his questions about Trell. His apprehension was too personal to be aired so publicly. He strove to occupy his mind with other things until he got a chance to talk to someone.

Deliberately, he scanned the company of riders. Standing by their Ranyhyn behind the Lords were twenty Bloodguard First Mark Morin, Terrel, Bannor, Ruel, Runnik, and fifteen others. Obviously, Koral would remain with Lord Amatin at Revelwood. In addition to them, the group included only five others: High Lord Elena, Lord Mhoram, Covenant, Troy,

and Trell. When he saw the Gravelingas, Troy again felt a desire to speak to him.

The unconcealed wound of Trell’s expression was taut with suspense, as if he awaited some decision from Elena with a degree of agony that surprised Troy. But the Warmark refrained, despite his mounting anxiety. The High Lord had begun to address Lord Amatin and Eldest Corimini.

“My friends,” she said gravely, “I leave Revelwood in your care. Ward it well!

The Tree and the Loresraat are the two great achievements of the new Lords-two symbols of our service. If it may be done, they must be preserved. Remember vigilance, and watch the Center Plains. If war comes upon you, you must not be taken unaware. And remember that if Revelwood cannot be saved, the Lore still must be preserved, and Lord’s Keep warned. The Loresraat and the Wards must find safety in Revelstone at need.

“Sister Amatin, these are great burdens. But I place them in your hands without fear. They do not surpass you. And the help of Corimini the Eldest, and of Asuraka and Drinishok the Elders, is beyond price. I do not believe that the Warward will fall in this war. But you must be prepared for all chances, even the worst. You will not fail. This trust becomes you.”

Lord Amatin blinked back a moment of tears, and bowed silently to the High Lord. Then Elena lifted her head to Revelwood, and projected her voice so that she could be heard in the Tree.

“Friends! Comrades! Proud people of the Land! There is war upon us. Together we confront the test of death. Now is the time of parting, when all the defenders of the Land must go to their separate tasks. Do not desire to change your lot for another’s. All faith and service are equal, alike worthy and perilous, in this time of need. And do not grieve at parting. We go to the greatest glory of our age-we are honored by the chance to give our utmost for the Land. This is the test of death, that at the last we may prove worthy of what we serve.

“Be of good heart. If the needs of this war go beyond your strength, do not despair. Give all your

strength, and hold Peace, and do not despair. Hold courage and faith high! It is better to fall and die in Peace than to re-Desecrate the Land.

“My friends, I am honored that I have shared life with you.”

High in Revelwood, a strident voice cried, “Hail to the High Lord and the Staff of Law!” And all the people in the Tree and on the ground answered, “Hail! Hail to the High Lord!”

Elena bowed deeply to Revelwood, spreading her arms wide in the traditional gesture of farewell. Then she turned Myrha toward the riders, and spoke to Lord Mhoram.

“Now, Mhoram, my most trusted friend, you must depart. You and Warmark Hile Troy must rejoin the Warward, to guide it into war. I have decided. I will leave you now, and follow Amok to the Seventh Ward of Kevin’s Lore.”

In spite of himself, Troy groaned, and clutched at Mehryl’s mane as if to keep himself from falling. But the High Lord took no notice of him. Instead, she said to Mhoram, “You know that I do not do this to evade the burden of war. But you also know that you are the more experienced and ready in battle. And you know that the outcome of the war may allow us no second opportunity to discover this Ward. Yet the Ward may enable a victory which would otherwise be taken from us. I cannot choose otherwise.”

Lord Mhoram gazed at her intently for a time. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with suppressed appeals. “Beware, High Lord. Even the Seventh Ward is not enough.”

Elena met him squarely, but her own gaze appeared unfocused. The other dimension of her sight was so pronounced that she did not seem to see him at all.

“Perhaps it was not enough for Kevin Landwaster,” she replied softly, “but it will suffice for me.”

“No!” Mhoram protested. “The danger is too great. Either this power did not meet Kevin’s need in any way, or its peril was so great that he feared to use it. Do not take this risk.”

“Have you seen it?” she asked. “Do you speak from vision?”

With an effort, Mhoram forced himself to say, “I have not seen it. But I feel it in my heart. There will

be death because of it. People will be slain.”My friend, you are too careful of all risks but your