Thomas Covenant - 02b - Gilden Fire (3 page)

When they were satisfied, Korik encountered Tull.

He was gratified by the strength of Tull’s metal. In many ways, Tull was still an untried Bloodguard; and because of this, Korik attacked him relentlessly. But Tull quickly showed that over the generations the Haruchai had not been content with old skills: they had developed new counters and blows, new feints and angles of attack. In moments, Korik was pushed to his limits, and Tull seemed to have the upper hand. But Korik had experienced conflict against many different and versatile opponents. He learned swiftly. When an unusual feint caught him, knocked him back, he spun and twisted, avoided the fall which would have signalled his defeat. Then he met Tull with the same feint. The blow stretched Tull on the rough floor, and the trial was over.

Tull bounded to his feet, stood with the other Bloodguard facing Korik.

 
Fist and faith, they said: We are Bloodguard. TanHaruchai.

 
TanHaruchai, Korik acknowledged. He bowed slightly to his comrades, and they followed him from the chamber. Among them, he was the only one whose pulse or breathing had quickened; but outwardly he revealed nothing of the trial of leadership.

When his company regained the main halls of Revelstone, they separated to gather supplies. For themselves they would carry nothing but raiment and long coils of clingor, the adhesive leather rope which had been introduced to the Land by the Giants. They bore no weapons. And, in part because of their Vow, they needed little food: as long as the hardy aliantha grew and ripened throughout the Land in all seasons, the Bloodguard required no other sustenance. But the Lords would need more equipage: food and drink, lillianrill rods for torches, some graveling, bedding, cookware, a few knives and other utensils. Such things the Bloodguard would carry on their backs, so that Shetra and Hyrim would not be wearied by packs. Other resources Korik left to the Lords. He took care of the needs within his power.

Those which were not did not trouble him. He had no answer for Lord Shetra’s dour dismay
 
though he had paid for centuries the cost of the yearning between a man and a woman and so he stood aloof from it; He had no hand in the unvoiced fear which caused Lord Hyrim to ask Thomas Covenant’s company in defiance of the High Lord’s wishes: therefore he made no effort to sway or deny the Unbeliever. And he fended away all questions which ranged beyond the ambit of his certainty. Fist and faith. Succeed or die. Aided by the native flatness of his features, he bore himself as if he possessed no emotions which might be touched.

Yet he grieved for Shetra and respected Hyrim. He judged the Unbeliever coldly. And the arrival of the Ranyhyn, seventeen of the great horses of Ra with their starred foreheads and their strange responsive fidelity, thundering forward in the first hint of day in answer to his call
 
that pride and beauty was a hymn in his heart. He was Haruchai and Bloodguard. His people had shown in their Vow how extremely they could be touched.

Thus now there was a special revelling in him as Brabha bore him down out of the foothills of Lord’s Keep into the lower plains, the easy farmlands which spread for leagues on all the eastern slopes. There he and his companions began to encounter brief villages
 
small clustered Stonedowns and an occasional Woodhelven in the old spread banyan trees which dotted this part of the plains, homes for the farmers and artisans who, despite their vital share in the life of Revelstone, preferred not to live in that massed habitation. In the dim dawn light, the riders slowed their pace to a more cautious trot, so that they ran no risk of trampling a groggy farmer or child. But when the sun came up fully, the Ranyhyn greeted it with glad nickering, as if they were welcoming an old dear friend, and stretched their strides again.

In the fresh day, the country side shone as if it were oblivious to the looming threat of blood. Ripe wheat rippled like sheets of gold in some of the fields; and in others cut hay was stacked into high fragrant mowes. Over them, the air blew its autumn nip: the breeze carried the smells of the crops like a counterpoint to the morning enthusiasm of the birds. The farmland seemed to defy the spectre which hunted it. Korik knew better: he had seen land as fair as this helpless to withstand fire and trampling and the thick unhealthy drench of blood. But he did not forget, could never forget, the heartwrench of beauty which had in part brought the Haruchai to their Vow. It baffled expression, surpassed any language but its own. He understood the overflowing mood which caused Lord Hyrim to throw back his head and sing as if he were crowing.

Hail! Weal!

Land and Life!

Pulse of power in tree and stone!

Earthheartblood

vital, vivid surge

in pith and rock!

Sunwarmth!

balmbliss bless!

all air and sea and lung and life!

Land’s soul’s beauty!

Skyweir!

Earthroot!

weal!

Hail!

The song had a strange power to catch its hearers, as if it actively desired them to join it; and Lord Hyrim relished it. But Shetra did not smile or sing or even look toward Hyrim. She rode on grimly, as if the war were already upon her. This also Korik understood. He sat between them comprehending and mute.

Thus they rode through the morning until the swift roaming gait of the Ranyhyn had placed most of the fields and villages behind them and the terrain began to give hints of its coming roughness. Lord Hyrim alternately sang and talked as if all the countryside were his enchanted audience; but Lord Shetra and the Bloodguard moved in their private silences.

Then towards noon they stopped beside a stream to give the Lords rest and the Ranyhyn chance to graze; Hyrim’s awkward dismount confirmed an impression which had been growing on Korik: although the Lord had been freely chosen by the Ranyhyn, he was an unusually poor rider. Even an inexperienced person could sit safely on a Ranyhyn if he left himself in the horse’s care. And Lord Hyrim was not inexperienced. Yet he rode with erratic jerks,
 
as if repeatedly he lost his balance and nearly fell. His dismount was only half a matter of choice. Korik thought of the hard riding ahead and winced inwardly.

 
He has always ridden thus, Sill answered. His balance is faulty. Almost the tests of the Sword in the Loresraat defeated him, prevented him from Lordship.

Yet the Ranyhyn selected him, Korik mused Their judgement is sure.

Yes, Korik replied after a moment. And his Ranyhyn knows the danger.

Nevertheless he felt anxiety. He wondered if the High Lord had known of Hyrim’s deficiency as a rider. If she had, why had she chosen him? However, such questions were not within Korik’s responsibility, and he recited his Vow to Silence them. The mission would give him the measure of Lord Hyrim’s fitness.

Hyrim himself was obviously aware of the problem. He limped ruefully away from the Ranyhyn and dropped fiat on his stomach to drink from the stream. After a long draught, he pushed himself onto his back, spat a last mouthful of water over the grass, and groaned, “By the Seven! Is it only noon? Half of one day? Friend Korik, how long will we require to gain Seareach?”

Korik shrugged. “Perhaps less than a score of days
 
if we are not delayed.”

“A score ? Melenkurion! Then let us pray that we are not delayed. A score of days’
 
he sat up with a huge show of difficulty “will leave me eighteen in my grave.”

“Then,” said Shetra sourly, “we will be the first folk in life to hear a dead man complain for eighteen days.”

At this, Lord Hyrim fell back to the grass, laughing gleefully.

When his mirth had subsided, he rolled his eyes at Shetra and attempted to stand up smoothly, as if he were not sore and tired.

But he could not do it: a spasm of strain broke across his face, and he started to laugh again, as if his own pretensions were the most innocent entertainment imaginable. Still chuckling, he limped a way to a nearby aliantha and fed himself on the viridian berries of the gnarled bush, savouring their crisp tangy flavour and the rush of nourishment they gave him. Scrupulously, he observed the custom of the Land by scattering the seeds around him, so that new bushes might grow. Then with a flourish he indicated his readiness to ride on. In moments, the company was mounted again and cantering eastward.

As they travelled, they moved into sterner countryside, land which was only hospitable to people who knew how to husband it. And they met with fewer villages. By evening, they were beyond the range of Revelstone’s immediate influence; and before the gloaming had thickened into darkness they had passed the last human habitation between that region and Girnmerdhore Forest. Yet they did not stop, though Lord Hyrim suggested the possibility with a genuine yearning in his voice. Korik kept the company riding in spite of Hyrim’s groans. So they continued into the night, trusting the Ranyhyn to find their way. Moonrise was near when Lord Shetra said in a low, measured tone, Now we must rest. We must have strength for the morrow and Grimmerdhore.” Korik agreed:

he did not miss the point of her glance toward Hyrim.

When his mount finally came to a halt, Lord Hyrim fell off as if he were already unconscious, moaning in his sleep.

 
Is his pain severe? Korik asked Sill.

 
No, Sill responded. He is unaccustomed. He will recover. But he will have difficulty in Grimmerdhore.

Korik nodded. He said farewell to Brabha for the night and began unwrapping the bundle on his back. The other Bloodguard followed his example: soon all the Ranyhyn had galloped away to feed and rest, and to keep a distant watch over the camp. When the lillianrill rods were unpacked, Lord Shetra used one to start a small campfire. With some of the supplies Korik had brought, she cooked a sparse meal. While she ate, she watched Lord Hyrim as if she expected the smell of the food to rouse him. But he remained face down on the grass, whimpering softly from time to time. Finally, she went to him and nudged him with her foot.

He shoved himself up sharply, clutched his staff as if he had been snatched out of sleep to face an attack. For a dazed instant, his lips. trembled, and his eyes rolled widely. But when he gained his feet, he awoke enough to see where he was. The fear faded from his face, leaving it grey and weak. Heavily, he shambled to the fire, sat down, and ate what Shetra had left for him.

However, the food seemed to meet his needs. Soon he recovered enough cheerfulness to groan, “Sister Shetra, you are not a good cook.”

When she made no reply, he stretched himself on his back by the fire, sighing plaintively, “Ah, agony!” For a time, he stared at the way the flames danced without consuming along the special wood of the lillianrilI. Then he turned his face to the sky and said gruffly, Friends, I had bethought me of fit revenge against those who gave to me this unendurable ride. Since noon, I have been full of dire promises
 
in place of food, I think. But now I am contrite. The fault is mine alone. I have been a fat thistlebrained fool from the moment the thought of the Loresraat and Lordship entered my head. Ah, what business had I to dream of Lords and Giants, of lore and bold undertakings? Better had I been punished severely and sent to tend sheep for the rest of my days, rather than permitted to follow mad fancies. But Hoole Grenmate my father was a kind man, slow to chastise. Alas, his memory is poorly honoured in my thick self. Were he to see me now, thus reduced to raw quivering flesh and strengthless bones by one single day astride the honour of a Ranyhyn, he would have shed great fat tears as a reproach to my overfed resourcelessness.

“Then let us rejoice in his absence,” said Shetra distantly. “I do not like tears.”

Hyrim took this up as if it were an argument. “That is well for you. You are brave of blood and limb
 
in every way enviably courageous. But I
 
do you hear the talk of the refectories in Revelstone? It is said there that my staff is warped
 
that when this staff was Made for me by High Lord Osondrea, it felt the touch of my hand and bent itself in chagrin. By the Seven! I would be offended if only the talk were untrue, I weep at every opportunity.”

He looked over at Shetra to see if he had produced any effect. But she appeared to be listening to some other voice, and she spoke as if to herself “Am I?”

“Are you?” Hyrim inquired gently. But when she did not reply, he returned to his badinage. “Are you courageous?
 
is that your question? Sister Shetra, I assure you! I have proof positive. Who but a woman with bravery in her very marrow would consent to share such a mission with me?”