The Wounded Land

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 colour.

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 sapor 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 sapor 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 neighbourhood. The security guards gave self-defence 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