The Runes of the Earth: The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - Book One (24 page)

“Together they swore an undying Vow, enabled and preserved by Earthpower. They became the Bloodguard, five hundred
Haruchai
who set aside the fierce love of their women and the stark beauty of their homes, and who neither slept nor rested nor wavered in the Lords' defense. If one were slain in that service, the Vow brought another to take his place.

“For centuries the Bloodguard kept faith. They knew the marvels of Andelain and the eldritch Forests, extravagant with Earthpower. They knew the love and fealty of the Unhomed, the Giants of Seareach. They knew the broad backs and strong thews and boundless fidelity of the Ranyhyn, the great horses of Ra, in whom the Earthpower shone abundantly. In their Vow, the Bloodguard themselves became men of wonder.”

An undercurrent in Stave's tone suggested that he would have gladly lived in that ancient time; shared that Vow.

“Yet High Lord Kevin's greatness was misled by Corruption. In his love of peace and health, he countenanced Corruption's place among the Council of Lords, not recognizing the truth of the Despiser. And from that honorable blindness arose the enduring ills which have befallen the Land. For when Corruption unveiled his face, he had grown too puissant to be defeated in any contest of arms and powers, though the attempt was made at great cost.

“The Bloodguard burned to challenge the Despiser themselves, to exceed his might with their own valor. They believed that they were indomitable. Corruption had not yet taught them otherwise.

“But the High Lord forbade them. He could not bear to chance that they might fail and fall. Concealing the darkness in his heart, he ordered the Bloodguard from the Land. And because they honored him—because they trusted him—they obeyed his will, dispersing themselves among the mountains.”

A note of sadness entered the faint music of Stave's tone. “They did not grasp that darkness had mastered the High Lord's heart. In despair he had conceived a stratagem of desperation. By his command, both the Bloodguard and the Unhomed were barred from the Upper Land. Likewise he sent the folk of the Land from their homes, and instructed the Ramen to guide the Ranyhyn away. Then he met with Corruption in Kiril Threndor, and there challenged the Despiser to the Ritual of Desecration.”

Bits of lamplight reflected from Stave's gaze as if his eyes were full of embers and kindling, primed for fire.

“It is said that Corruption acceded gleefully. Desecration is his demesne, and he knew as High Lord Kevin did not that from such an expression of pain no life or being or power could emerge unscathed.”

Linden lowered her head to her knees to rest her throbbing neck. She remembered Kevin's tormented shade as keenly as the cut of a blade.

Anele lay hugging himself with his knees against his chest. He had turned to face the wall, away from Linden and Stave. He may have fallen asleep.

“Together,” Stave continued, “Corruption and the Landwaster wrought devastation. In that Ritual, the old Lords and many of their most precious works were swept from the Land. Much of beauty was crippled, and much destroyed utterly. When those
who had been dispersed returned to the Land, they found a wilderland where they had left vitality and health. A thousand years passed before the many healings of the new Lords bore fruit, and the beauty which belonged to the Land could grow anew.”

There the
Haruchai
paused briefly.

Linden did not raise her head. She did not want to see sparks gather into conflagration in his eyes.

When Stave resumed, however, his voice had regained its familiar dispassion.

“From Kevin Landwaster, the Bloodguard learned the peril of trust. Linden Avery, you have felt the doubt of the
Haruchai.
You know that these words are truth.”

She did indeed. The persistent suspicions of Brinn, Cail, and their companions had caused her more pain than she could recall without trembling. But she said nothing that might deflect Stave's narrative.

“The Bloodguard served the new Council as they had served the old. Once again, they honored the Giants and the Ranyhyn. Where they could, they gave battle to Corruption's minions. But they had learned to doubt, and now they did not relax their vigilance, or grant unquestioning compliance to any act or choice of the Lords.”

Once more the cadences of distant singing claimed Stave's tone. “Yet their strength was proven weakness. In the battles of the new Lords against Corruption's armies, the Unhomed, whom the Bloodguard loved, were utterly destroyed. Confronting a Raver in the flesh of a Giant—a Raver that held a fragment of the Illearth Stone and was thereby made extravagant in power and malice—the Giants could not rouse themselves to oppose their own doom. Therefore they were slaughtered.

“There the Bloodguard glimpsed the onset of a new Desecration. For that reason, they determined to take the Despiser's defeat into their own hands. When the Illearth Stone had been wrested from the Raver's hand, three of the Bloodguard, Korik, Sill, and Doar, claimed that fragment of great evil. Seeking to prevent a greater ruin, they fulfilled the desire of all the Bloodguard to challenge Corruption.”

Now Stave's tone hinted at bitterness. “They were mastered easily and entirely. Their skill and fidelity had no force against Despite. They were enslaved. They were maimed to resemble the Unbeliever. And they were dispatched to Revelstone to declare the Lords' last defeat.

“There the Vow was broken.” Vistas of sorrow filled the background of his voice. “The Bloodguard were
Haruchai.
They could not suffer it that they had been so turned against themselves. The beauty and grandeur which had inspired the Vow required flawless service, and they had shown themselves flawed. Earthpower had enabled their service, but it had not preserved them from dishonor.

“In the name of the purity which they had failed to equal, the
Haruchai
returned to their cold homes, turning their backs in shame on the Council and the Ranyhyn, on
Andelain and all the Land. Aided by the last of the Unhomed, ur-Lord Thomas Covenant defeated Corruption, and so the Land was spared another Desecration, but the
Haruchai
had no hand in that triumph.”

Still Stave's inbred dispassion sustained him. “From their shame, they learned that they could not endure it. And from their Vow, they learned that they had been misled by Earthpower. Such puissance both transcended and falsified their mortality. Without Earthpower, they would have remained what they were,
Haruchai,
inviolate. They would have known themselves unequal to such banes as the Illearth Stone and Ravers.”

That Linden understood. She, too, was certain of her own inadequacy. And she had learned from Thomas Covenant that such knowledge could be a source of strength.

“Yet evil continued to flow from the use of Earthpower,” Stave explained. “For thirty centuries and more, the
Haruchai
remained among their mountains and their women, and at last their memories gave birth to a wish to see what had become of the Land. Again some among them sojourned eastward. Thus they discovered the Clave and the Sunbane.

“So much of their tale you know. The
Haruchai
were imprisoned by the Clave. Their fierce blood was shed to feed the Banefire. When they, and you, were freed by the Unbeliever, they again set themselves against Corruption in anger and repudiation.

“But they did not renew the shame of their past arrogance. Instead they contented themselves in Thomas Covenant's troubled service, and in yours, and in defense of the folk of the Land. Therefore they were not again turned against themselves.

“And again the ur-Lord triumphed over his foe. That tale the
Haruchai
heard from the Giants of the Search. And they heard as well that Linden Avery the Chosen gave form to a new Staff of Law. Thus you triumphed over the Sunbane, so that the Land might once again be allowed to heal.”

She found herself nodding, although the movement hurt her neck. Hardly aware of what she did, she had raised her head to gaze into Stave's indecipherable face.

“Desiring a service in which they might also triumph,” he said, “the
Haruchai
remained when you had returned to your world. The new Staff was given to the folk of the Land, but it was soon lost, and there were no Lords who might have defended Earthpower from darkness. The Land required our care.”

Anele whimpered as if in nightmare; but he did not turn from the wall.

“Do you understand me, Linden Avery? We had learned that the Ritual of Desecration and the Sunbane were expressions of Earthpower. We had learned that Earthpower could not preserve any service from shame, neither ours nor the Lords. We had learned that mortal hearts are weak, and that Corruption is cunning to exploit that weakness. And we had learned to love the Land, as the Lords did before us.

“In the end, we learned that the Land and all its life would not have suffered such renewed and again renewed cruelty if Earthpower were not”—again he paused to
search for a word—“accessible for use. Certainly it is not Corruption. But in the absence of the Staff of Law, only Corruption is served when mortal hearts exercise Earthpower. Even in the presence of the Staff, great evil may be wrought. Therefore we have taken upon ourselves the guardianship of the Land.

“We do not rule here. We command nothing. We demand nothing. All life is free to live as it wills. But we do not permit any exertion of Earthpower.”

Linden stared at him, but she could no longer see him. Tears blurred her vision. Only Corruption is served—How was it possible to have learned so much, and to understand so little?

Earthpower was life: no mere decision or belief on the part of the
Haruchai
could gainsay it. Everything that had form and substance here was in some sense an “exertion of Earthpower.” The true peril lay not in its use, but in the hearts of those who did not understand their own vulnerability to despair.

Against that danger, Linden Avery, like Thomas Covenant before her, was defended by the knowledge of her inadequacy. She could not be misled by despair because she did not expect herself to be greater than she was.

Kevin's Dirt held sway, and
caesures
stalked the Land, because the Staff of Law had been lost—and because the
Haruchai
did not “permit” any other use of Earthpower to oppose those evils.

But Stave was not done. “Nor are we content,” he stated more stiffly. “We do more. Though we remember much, we do not share our memories. We seek to end all recollection of Earthpower, so that no new use may arise to thwart us.

“We command nothing,” he insisted. “We rule nothing. But we discourage tales of the past. We relate none ourselves. We confirm none that others relate. Human memories are brief, and we nurture that brevity.

“For many centuries now, the folk of the Land have known little which might harm them. You are forgotten, Linden Avery. The ur-Lord himself, whom we greatly honor, is no longer remembered. If it is your wish to oppose us, you will find no aid in all the Land.”

Now Linden dashed the blur from her sight to gape aghast at the
Haruchai,
silently begging him to stop. But he did not.

“In this the Giants have been our gravest hazard. The folk of the Land are as short of life as of memory, but the span of the Giants is measured in centuries. They remember. They return to the Land at intervals, when their wide sojourning tends hither. And they speak of what they remember.

“They love long tales, which they recount at all opportunities. Therefore we are wary of them. As it lies within our power, we dissuade their travels to the Upper Land. And we do what we may to prevent the folk of the Land from hearing their tales.”

Linden flinched as if Stave had struck her—and still he was not done. “The Giants
have not forgotten you, Linden Avery,” he assured her, “yet you will find no aid among them. Their last sojourn to the Land ended scant decades ago. They will not return in your lifetime, or the next.”

Good
God,
she groaned in protest. And you think you've given up arrogance? Stave's people had gone beyond folly. Anele was right about them. They might call Lord Foul their enemy, but they served him and did not know it.

She should have risen to her feet; faced him with her anger and dismay. But she did not. He had shaken her profoundly. The flame of the lamp guttered in her face, and all of her courage had fallen to ash.

However, her face must have betrayed her reaction. After a moment, Stave observed, “Still you do not understand.” He addressed her from an unattainable height. “This manner of speech misrepresents us. It misrepresents truth. And I have deflected myself from the pith of that which I must convey.”

He appeared to reconsider his approach. “All other matters are secondary,” he said then. “Only the question of Earthpower signifies. Grasping that, you will grasp all else.”

He began again as though he could read the floundering incomprehension written in the play of lamplight on her features, and knew now how to answer it.

“Consider, Linden Avery. The
Elohim
are beings of Earthpower, and they serve only their own freedom rather than the needs of the Earth. And the Worm of the World's End is Earthpower incarnate.

“The peril is manifest. It cannot be denied.