The Wounded Land

Covenant knotted his fists and tried to insist. “Tell me.”

“Thomas Covenant-” Honninscrave began in a tone of gentle dissuasion.

“I beat that thing once,” Covenant croaked. “I'll beat it again if I have to.” Don't you understand? All your people were killed. “Tell me why you're here.”

The First considered her companions. Honninscrave shrugged. Seadreamer kept his eyes closed, communing with a private pain. Pitchwife hid his face behind a cup of diamondraught.

Stiffly, she said, “Speak briefly, Grimmand Honninscrave.”

Honninscrave bowed, recognizing her right to command him. Then he turned to Covenant. His body took on a formal stance, as if even his muscles and sinews believed that tales were things which should be treated with respect. His resemblance to Foamfollower struck Covenant acutely.

“Hear, then, Thomas Covenant,” Honninscrave said with a cadence in his deep voice, 'that we are the leaders of the Search-the Search of the Giants, so called for the purpose which has brought us thus far across the world from our Home. To our people, from time to time among the generations, there is born one possessed of a gift which we name the Earth-Sight- a gift of vision such as only the Elohim comprehend. This gift is strange surpassingly, and may be neither foretold nor bound, but only obeyed. Many are the stories I would wish to tell, so that you might grasp the import of what I say. But I must content myself with this one word: the Earth-Sight has become a command to all Giants, which none would willingly shirk or defy. Therefore we are here.

'Among our generation, a Giant was born, brother of my bone and blood, and the Earth-Sight was in him. He is Cable Seadreamer, named for the vision which binds him, and he is voiceless, scalded mute by the extravagance and horror of what the Earth-Sight has seen. With the eyes of the gift, he beheld a wound upon the Earth, sore and terrible-a wound like a great nest of maggots, feeding upon the flesh of the world's heart. And he perceived that this wound, if left uncleansed, unhealed, would grow to consume all life and tune, devouring the foundation and cornerstone of the Earth, unbinding Stone and Sea from themselves, birthing chaos.

“Therefore a Giantclave was held, and the Search given its duty. We are commanded to seek out this wound and oppose it, in defence of the Earth. For that reason, we set sail from our Home in the proudest dromond of all Giantships, Starfare's Gem. For that reason, we have followed Seadreamer's gaze across the wide oceans of the world-we, and twoscore of our people, who tend the Gem. And for that reason, we are here. The wound lies in this land, in the west. We seek to behold it, discover its nature, so that we may summon the Search to resist or cleanse it.”

Honninscrave stopped and stood waiting for Covenant's reply. The other Giants studied the Unbeliever as if he held the key to a mystery, the First grimly, Seadreamer as intensely as an oracle, Pitchwife with a gaze like a chuckle of laughter or loss. Possibilities widened the faces of the Stonedownors as they began to understand why Covenant had insisted on hearing the explanation of the Giants. But Covenant was silent. He saw the possibilities, too; Honninscrave's narration had opened a small clear space in his mind, and in that space lay answers. But he was preoccupied with an old grief. Foamfollower's people had died because they were unable to find their way Home.

“Ur-Lord,” Brinn said. “Time demands us. We must depart.”

Depart. Covenant nodded. Yes. Give me strength. He swallowed, asked thickly, “Where's your ship?”

“The dromond Starfare's Gem,” Honninscrave replied as if he desired Covenant to use the ship's title, “stands anchored off the delta of a great swamp which lies in the east. A distance of perhaps seven score leagues.”

Covenant closed his eyes. “Take me there. I need your ship.”

The First's breath hissed through her teeth. Pitchwife gaped at the ur-Lord's audacity. After a moment, Honninscrave began hesitantly, “The First has named you Giantfriend. We desire to aid you. But we cannot-”

“Thomas Covenant,” the First said in a voice like a broadsword, “what is your purpose?”

“Oh, forsooth!” Pitchwife laughed. “Let this lurker await our good readiness. We will not be hastened.” His words could have been sarcastic; but he spoke them in a tone of clean glee. “Are we not Giants? Are not tales more precious to us than life?”

Quietly, almost gently, the First said, “Peace, Pitchwife.”

At her command, Pitchwife stopped; but his grin went on contradicting the grief of the lurker.

In the core of his numbness, Covenant held to the few things he understood, kept his eyes shut so that he would not be distracted. Distanced from himself by darkness and concentration, he hardly heard what he was saying.

“I know that wound. I know what it is. I think I know what to do about it. That's why we're here. I need you-your ship, your knowledge-your help.”

The thing you seek is not within the Land.

The Staff of Law. The One Tree.

Yet Mhoram had also said, Do not be deceived by the Land's need. The thing you seek is not what it appears to be.

Carefully, Honninscrave said, “Cable Seadreamer asks that you speak more plainly.”

More plainly? For an instant, Covenant's grasp on clarity faltered. Do I have to tell you that it's my fault? That I'm the one who opened the door? But he steadied himself in the eye of all the things he did not understand and began to speak.

There in the night, with his eyes closed against the firelight and the immaculate stars, he described the Sunbane and the purpose for which Lord Foul had created the Sunbane. He outlined its origin in the destruction of the Staff of Law, then told of his own role in that destruction, so that the Giants would understand why the restitution of the Staff was his responsibility. And he talked about what he had learned in Andelain. All these things ran together in his mind; he did not know whether the words he spoke aloud made any sense.

When he finished, he fell silent and waited.

After a time, the First said thoughtfully, “You ask the use of Starfare's Gem so that you may seek across the world for this One Tree. You ask our aid and our knowledge of the Earth, to aid your seeking.”

Covenant opened his eyes then, let his mortal weariness speak for him. Yes. Look at me. How else can any of this be healed?

“Stone and Sea!” she muttered, “this is a hard matter. If you speak truly, then the path of the Search lies with you.”

“The ur-Lord,” Brinn said without inflection, “speaks truly.”

She rejected his assertion with a brusque shrug. “I doubt not that he speaks truly concerning his own belief. But is his belief a sure knowledge? He asks us to place all the Search into his hands-without any secure vision of what we do. Granted, he is mighty, and has known the friendship of Giants. But might and surety are not children of the same parent.”

“Do you”- Covenant could feel himself failing into stupidity again, becoming desperate — “know where the One Tree is?”

“No,” she replied stiffly. She hesitated for only a moment. “But we know where such knowledge may be gained.”

“Then take me there.” His voice was husky with supplication. 'The Sunbane's getting worse. People are killed every day to feed it. The Land is dying,“ I swore I'd never kill again-swore it in the name of FoamfoIIower's caamora. But I can't stop. ”Please.'

Indecision held the First. She glared at the dilemma he had given her. Honninscrave knelt by the fire, tending it as if he needed something to do with his hands. Seadreamer's face wore pain as if he were maimed by his muteness. Near him, Sunder and Hollian waited in suspense.

Whistling thinly through his teeth, Pitchwife began to repack the Giants' bundles. His features expressed a complete confidence that the First would make the right choice.

Without warning, a bolt of white shot through the depths of the lake. It flickered, disappeared. Fired again.

Instantly, the whole lake caught silver. Ghost-shine sprang into the night. The water came to life.

In the distance, the lurker's sobbing mounted toward rage. At once, the air seemed to congeal like fear.

Sunder spat a hoarse curse. Harn and Hergrom dove toward the quest's supplies. Pitchwife tossed a bundle