The Wounded Land (21 page)

So that her— Hellfire! Covenant understood now why the thought of killing his mother had driven Sunder to abandon his home. How many loved ones could a man bear to kill?

Grimly Linden said, “It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do.” Passion gathered in her tone. “It’s this Sunbane.”

The Graveler did not look at her. “All men and women die. It signifies nothing to complain.” He sounded as sun-tormented as the Plains. “What else do you desire to know of me? You need only ask. I have no secrets from you.”

Covenant ached to comfort Sunder; but he knew nothing about comfort. Anger and defiance were the only answers he understood. Because he could not ease the Stonedownor, he tried to distract him. “Tell me about Nassic.” The words were rough in his mouth. “How did he come to have a son?”

Linden glared at Covenant as if she were vexed by his insensitivity; but Sunder relaxed visibly. He seemed relieved by the question—glad to escape the futility of his mourning. “Nassic my father,” he said, with a weariness which served as calm, “was like Jous his father, and like Prassan his father’s father. He was a man of Mithil Stonedown.

“Jous his father lived in the place he named his temple, and from time to time Nassic visited Jous, out of respect for his father, and also to ascertain that no harm had befallen him. The Stonedown wed Nassic to Kalina, and they were together as any young man and woman. But then Jous fell toward his death. Nassic went to the temple to bear his father to Mithil Stonedown for sacrifice. He did not return. Dying, Jous placed his hands upon Nassic, and the madness or prophecy of the father passed into the son. Thus Nassic was lost to the Stonedown.

“This loss was sore to Kalina my mother. She was ill content with just one son. Many a time, she went to the temple, to give her love to my father and to plead for his. Always she returned weeping and barren. I fear—” He paused sadly. “I fear she hurled herself at Marid hoping to die.”

Gradually Covenant’s attention drifted. He was too weak to concentrate. Dimly he noted the shifting angle of the sun. Noon had come, laying sunlight within inches of his feet. By midafternoon, the shade would be gone. By midafternoon—

He could not survive much more of the sun’s direct weight.

The dark clump which he had passed near the shelf was still there. Apparently it was not a mirage. He blinked at it, trying to make out details. If not a mirage, then what? A bush? What kind of bush could endure this sun, when every other form of life had been burned away?

The question raised echoes in his memory, but he could not hear them clearly. Exhaustion and thirst deafened his mind.

“Die?”

He was hardly aware that he had spoken aloud. His voice felt like sand rubbing against stone. What kind—? He strove to focus his eyes. “That bush.” He nodded weakly toward the patch of darkness. “What is it?”

Sunder squinted. “It is
aliantha
. Such bushes may be found in any place, but they are most common near the River. In some way, they defy the Sunbane.” He dismissed the subject. “They are a most deadly poison.”

“Poison?”
Pain sliced Covenant’s lips; the vehemence of his outcry split them. Blood began to run through the dust like a trail of fury cleaving his chin. Not
aliantha!

The Graveler reached toward Covenant’s face as if those dirty red drops were precious. Empowered by memories, Covenant struck Sunder’s hand aside. “Poison?” he croaked. In times past, the rare aliment of
aliantha
had sustained him more often than he could recollect. If they had become poison—! He was abruptly giddy with violence. If they had become poison, then the Land had not simply lost its Earthpower. The
Earthpower had been corrupted! He wanted to batter Sunder with his fists. “How do you know?”

Linden caught at his shoulder. “Covenant!”

“It is contained in the Rede of the na-Mhoram,” rasped Sunder. “I am a Graveler—it is my work to make use of that knowledge. I know it to be true.”

No! Covenant grated. “Have you tried it?”

Sunder gaped at him. “No.”

“Do you know anybody who ever tried it?”

“It is poison! No man or woman willingly consumes poison.”

“Hell and blood.” Bracing himself on the stone, Covenant heaved to his feet. “I don’t believe it. He can’t destroy the entire Law. If he did, the Land wouldn’t exist anymore.”

The Graveler sprang erect, gripped Covenant’s arms, shook him fiercely. “It is
poison
.”

Mustering all his passion, Covenant responded,
“No!”

Sunder’s visage knurled as if only the clench of his muscles kept him from exploding. With one wrench of his hands, he thrust Covenant to the ground. “You are mad.” His voice was iron and bitterness. “You seduced me from my home, asking my aid—but at every turn you defy me. You must seek for Marid. Madness! You must refuse all safety against the Sunbane. Madness! You must decline to raise water, nor permit me to raise it. Madness! Now nothing will content you but poison.” When Covenant tried to rise, Sunder shoved him back. “It is enough. Make any further attempt toward the
aliantha
, and I will strike you senseless.”

Covenant’s gaze raged up at the Graveler; but Sunder did not flinch. Desperation inured him to contradiction; he was trying to reclaim some control over his doom.

Holding Sunder’s rigid stare, Covenant climbed to his feet, stood swaying before the Graveler. Linden was erect behind Sunder; but Covenant did not look at her. Softly he said, “I do not believe that
aliantha
is poisonous.” Then he turned, and began to shamble toward the bush.

A howl burst from Sunder. Covenant tried to dodge; but Sunder crashed into him headlong, carried him sprawling to the dirt. A blow on the back of his head sent lights across his vision like fragments of vertigo.

Then Sunder fell away. Covenant levered his legs under him, to see Linden standing over the Graveler. She held him in a thumb-lock which pressed him to the ground.

Covenant stumbled to the bush.

His head reeled. He fell to his knees. The bush was pale with dust and bore little resemblance to the dark green-and-viridian plant he remembered. But the leaves were holly-like and firm, though few. Three small fruit the size of blueberries clung to the branches in defiance of the Sunbane.

Trembling he plucked one, wiped the dust away to see the berry’s true color.

At the edge of his sight, he saw Sunder knock Linden’s feet away, break free of her.

Gritting his courage, Covenant put the berry in his mouth.

“Covenant!” Sunder cried.

The world spun wildly, then sprang straight. Cool juice filled Covenant’s mouth with a savor of peach made tangy by salt and lime. At once, new energy burst through him. Deliciousness cleansed his throat of dirt and thirst and blood. All his nerves thrilled to a savor he had not tasted for ten long years: the quintessential nectar of the Land.

Sunder and Linden were on their feet, staring at him.

A sound like dry sobbing came from him. His sight was a blur of relief and gratitude. The seed dropped from his lips. “Oh, dear God,” he murmured brokenly. “There’s Earthpower yet.”

A moment later, Linden reached him. She helped him to his feet, peered into his face. “Are you—?” she began, then stopped herself. “No, you’re all right. Better. I can already see the difference. How—?”

He could not stop shaking. He wanted to hug her; but he only allowed himself to touch her cheek, lift a strand of hair away from her mouth. Then, to answer her, thank her, he plucked another berry, and gave it to her.

“Eat—”

She held it gently, looked at it. Sudden tears overflowed her eyes. Her lower lip trembled as she whispered, “It’s the first healthy—” Her voice caught.

“Eat it,” he urged thickly.

She raised it to her mouth. Her teeth closed on it.

Slowly a look of wonder spread over her countenance. Her posture straightened; she began to smile like a cool dawn.

Covenant nodded to tell her that he understood. “Spit out the seed. Maybe another one will grow.”

She took the seed in her hand, gazed at it for a moment as if it had been sanctified before she tossed it to the ground.

Sunder had not moved. He stood with his arms clamped across his chest. His eyes were dull with the horror of watching his life become false.

Carefully Covenant picked the last berry. His stride was almost steady as he went to Sunder, His heart sang: Earthpower!

“Sunder,” he said, half insisting, half pleading, “this is
aliantha
. They used to be called treasure-berries—the gift of the Earth to anybody who suffered from hunger or need. This is what the Land was like.”

Sunder did not respond. The glazing of his gaze was complete.

“It’s not poison,” Linden said clearly, “It’s immune to the Sunbane.”

“Eat it,” Covenant urged. “This is why we’re here. What we want to accomplish. Health. Earthpower. Eat it.”

With a painful effort, Sunder dredged up his answer. “I do not wish to trust you.” His voice was a wilderland. “You violate all my life. When I have learned that
aliantha
are not poison, you will seek to teach me that the Sunbane does not exist—that all the life of the Land through all the generations has had no meaning. That the shedding I have done is no less than murder.” He swallowed harshly. “But I must. I must find some truth to take the place of the truth you destroy.”

Abruptly he took the berry, put it in his mouth.

For a moment, his soul was naked in his face. His initial anticipation of harm became involuntary delight; his inner world struggled to alter itself. His hands quavered when he took the seed from his mouth. “Heaven and Earth!” he breathed. His awe was as exquisite as anguish. “Covenant—” His jaw worked to form words. “Is this truly the Land—the Land of which my father dreamed?”

“Yes.”

“Then he was mad.” One deep spasm of grief shook Sunder before he tugged back about him the tattered garment of his self-command. “I must learn to be likewise mad.”

Turning away, he went back to the shelf of rock, seated himself in the shade, and covered his face with his hands.

To give Sunder’s disorientation at least a degree of privacy, Covenant shifted his attention to Linden. The new lightness of her expression ameliorated her habitual severity, lifted some of her beauty out from under the streaked dust on her face. “Thank you.” He began to say, For trying to save my life. Back there in the woods. But he did not want to remember that blow. Instead he said, “For getting Sunder off me.” I didn’t know you trusted me that much. “Where did you learn that thumb-hold?”

“Oh, that.” Her grin was half grimness, half amusement. “The med school I went to was in a pretty rough neighborhood. The security guards gave self-defense lessons.”

Covenant found himself wondering how long it had been since a woman had last smiled at him. Before he could reply, she glanced upward. “We ought to get out of the sun. One treasure-berry apiece isn’t going to keep us going very long.”

“True.” The
aliantha
had blunted his hunger, eased his body’s yearning for water, restored a measure of life to his muscles. But it could not make him impervious to the sun. Around him, the Plains swam with heat as if the fabric of the ground were being bleached away fiber by fiber. He rubbed absent-mindedly at the blood on his chin, started toward Sunder.

Linden halted him. “Covenant.”

He turned. She stood facing eastward, back over the shelf of rock. Both hands shaded her eyes.

“Something’s coming.”

Sunder joined them; together, they squinted into the haze. “What the hell—?” Covenant muttered.

At first he saw nothing but heat and pale dirt. But then he glimpsed an erect figure, shimmering darkly in and out of sight.

The figure grew steadier as it approached. Slowly, it became solid, transubstantiating itself like an avatar of the Sunbane. It was a man. He wore the apparel of a Stonedownor.

“Who—?”

“Oh, my God!” Linden gasped.

The man came closer.

Sunder spat, “Marid!”

Marid? An abrupt weakness struck Covenant’s knees.

The Sunbane will have no mercy—

The man had Marid’s eyes, chancrous with self-loathing, mute supplication, lust. He still wore stakes tied to each of his ankles. His gait was a shambling of eagerness and dread.

He was a monster. Scales covered the lower half of his face; both mouth and nose were gone. And his arms were snakes. Thick scale-clad bodies writhed from his shoulders; serpent-heads gaped where his hands had been, brandishing fangs as white as bone. His chest heaved for air, and the snakes hissed.

Hellfire.

Linden stared at Marid. Nausea distorted her mouth. She was paralyzed, hardly breathing. The sight of Marid’s inflicted ill reft her of thought, courage, motion.

“Ah, Marid, my friend,” Sunder whispered miserably. “This is the retribution of the Sunbane, which none can foretell. If you were innocent, as the ur-Lord insists—” He groaned in grief. “Forgive me.”

But an instant later his voice hardened. “Avaunt, Marid!” he barked. “Ware us! Your life is forfeit here!”

Marid’s gaze flinched as if he understood; but he continued to advance, moving purposefully toward the shelf of rock.

“Marid!” Sunder snatched out his poniard. “I have guilt enough in your doom. Do not thrust this upon me.”

Marid’s eyes shouted a voiceless warning at the Graveler.

Covenant’s throat felt like sand; his lungs labored. In the back of his mind, a pulse of outrage beat like lifeblood.

Three steps to his side, Linden stood frozen and appalled.

Hissing voraciously, Marid flung himself into a run. He sprinted to the rock, up the shelf.

For one splinter of time, Covenant could not move. He saw Marid launch himself at Linden, saw fangs reaching toward her face, saw her standing as if her heart had stopped.

Her need snatched Covenant into motion. He took two desperate strides, crashed head and shoulders against her. They tumbled together across the hard dirt.

He disentangled himself, flipped to his feet.

Marid landed heavily, rolling to get his legs under him.