The Wounded Land

“The Sunstone. It's yours.”

Torn by this vision of power as if it turned the world he had always known to chaos, Sunder stretched out his hand, touched the bright orcrest. When its light did not burn him, he closed his fingers on it as if it were an anchor.

With a groan, Covenant released the wild magic. Instantly, the fire went out as if he had severed it from his hand. The Sunstone was extinguished; the room plunged into midnight.

He leaned back against the wall, hugged his pounding arms across his chest. Flares danced along his sight, turning slowly from white to orange and red. He felt exhausted; but he could not rest. He had silenced his power so that the Graveller would have a chance to refuse him. Now he had to meet the cost of his risk. Roughly, he forced out words. 'I want to get away from here. Before anything else happens. Before that Raver tries something worse. But we need help. A guide. Somebody who knows the Sunbane. We can't survive alone. I want you.'

From out of the darkness, Sunder answered as if he were foundering, “I am the Graveller of Mithil Stonedown. My people hold me in their faith. How shall I betray my home to aid you?”

“Sunder,” Covenant replied, striving to convey the extremity of his conviction, “I want to help the Land. I want to save it all. Including Mithil Stonedown.”

For a long moment, the Graveller was silent. Covenant clinched his chest, did not allow himself to beg for Sunder's aid; but his heart beat over and over again, Please; I need you.

Abruptly, Linden spoke in a tone of startling passion. “You shouldn't have to kill your own mother.”

Sunder took a deep quivering breath. “I do not wish to shed her blood. Or yours. May my people forgive me.”

Covenant's head swam with relief. He hardly heard himself say, “Then let's get started.”

Seven: Marid

FOR a moment, there was silence in the small room. Sunder remained still, as if he could not force his reluctant bones to act on his decision. Out of the darkness, he breathed thickly, “Thomas Covenant, do not betray me.”

Before Covenant could try to reply, the Graveller turned, eased the curtain aside.

Through the entryway, Covenant saw moonlight in the open centre of the Stonedown. Quietly, he asked, “What about guards?”

“There are none here.” Sunder's voice was a rigid whisper. “Lives to be shed are left in the charge of the Graveller. It is fitting that one who will commit sacrifice should keep vigil with those whose blood will be shed. The Stonedown sleeps.”

Covenant clenched himself against his fatigue and the Graveller's tone. “What about outside the village?”

“Those guards we must evade.”

Grimly, Sunder slipped out of the room.

Linden began to follow the Stonedownor. But at Covenant's side she stopped, said softly, “Do you trust him? He already regrets this.”

“I know,” Covenant responded. In the back of his mind, he cursed the acuity of her hearing. “I wouldn't trust anybody who didn't regret a decision like this.”

She hesitated for a moment. She said bitterly, “I don't think regret is such a virtue.” Then she let herself out into the night.

He stood still, blinking wearily at the dark. He felt wan with hunger; and the thought of what lay ahead sapped the little strength remaining to him. Linden's severity hurt him. Where had she learned to deny herself the simple humanity of regret?

But he had no time for such things. His need to escape was absolute. Woodenly, he followed his companions out of the room.

After the blackness behind him, the moon seemed bright. Sunder and Linden were distinct and vulnerable against the pale walls of the houses, waiting for him. When he joined them, the Graveller turned northward immediately, began moving with barefoot silence between the dwellings. Linden shadowed him; and Covenant stayed within arm's reach of her back.

As they neared the outer houses, Sunder stopped. He signed for Covenant and Linden to remain where they were. When Covenant nodded, Sunder crept away back into the Stonedown.

Covenant tried to muffle his respiration. At his side, Linden stood with her fists clenched. Her lips moved soundlessly as if she were arguing with her fear. The night was chilly; Covenant's anxiety left a cold trail down the small of his back.

Shortly, Sunder returned, bearing a dark oblong the size of a papaya. “Mirkfruit,” he whispered. At once, he moved off again.

Like spectres, the three of them left Mithil Stonedown.

From the last houses, Sunder picked his way toward the valley bottom. He travelled in a hah5 crouch, reducing his silhouette as much as possible. Linden followed his example; she seemed to flit through the moonlight as if she had been born sure-footed. But

Covenant's toes were numb, and his legs were tired. He stumbled over the uneven ground.

Abruptly, Sunder braced his hands on a rock, vaulted down into the long hollow of the riverbed.

Linden jumped after him. Sand absorbed her landing. Swiftly, she joined Sunder in the shadow under the bank.

Covenant hesitated on the edge. Looking downward, he became suddenly queasy with vertigo. He turned his head away. The barren length of the watercourse stretched serpentine out of the mountains on his left toward the South Plains on his right.

Last night, the Mithil River had been full to overflowing.

“Come!” whispered Sunder. “You will be seen.”

Covenant jumped. He landed crookedly, sprawled in the sand. In an instant, Sunder reached his side, urged him to his feet. He ignored the Graveller. He dug his hands into the sand, groping for moisture. But even below the surface, the sand was completely dry. His hands raised dust that made him gag to stifle a cough.

Impossible!

The riverbed was as desiccated as a desert. Had the Law itself become meaningless?

“Covenant!” Linden hissed.

Sunder tugged at his shoulders. Fighting down a rush of blind rage, Covenant pulled his legs under him, stumbled into the shadow of the bank. A moment passed before he regained himself enough to look outward, away from his dismay.

Sunder pointed downriver, toward the black arc of a bridge a few hundred feet away. “One guard,” he breathed. “The others can no longer descry us. But him we cannot pass unseen.”

“What are we going to do?” whispered Linden.

The Graveller motioned for silence. Hefting his mirkfruit, he crept away along the course, staying carefully under the shelter of the bank.

Linden and Covenant followed.

Their progress was slow. The river bottom was littered with rocks and unexpected holes, especially near the banks; Covenant had to watch his footing. Yet his gaze was drawn toward the bridge-the ominous black span blocking their way like a gate. He had crossed that bridge with Lena. And with Atiaran. The memory made his heart squirm.

He caught no glimpse of the guard. The man must have been hiding behind the parapets of the span.

Then they drew near the bridge, made their way under it. Covenant held his breath as Sunder moved to the riverbank. The Graveller climbed with acute caution; he eased his way upward as if every pebble and handful of dirt were treacherous. Slowly, he disappeared around the base of the bridge.

Suspense shivered in the air as if the night were about to shatter. Covenant's lungs knotted, demanding relief. Linden huddled into herself.