The Wounded Land

Covenant accepted the help, let himself be pulled to his feet. His muscles felt like ashes in his limbs; but by leaning on Sunder's shoulder he was able to travel another half a league to reach a stretch of rock. It was hidden among high brush, which provided at least some protection against discovery. Reclining on the rough stone, Covenant went to sleep for the remainder of the afternoon. After a supper of ussusimiel, he surprised himself by sleeping throughout the night.

In spite of the hardness of his bed, he did not awaken until shortly after sunrise. By that time, Sunder had already cleared a patch of ground and planted a new crop of melons.

When Covenant arose, Linden joined him. Avoiding his gaze as if she could not tolerate the sight of his thoughts, his concern for her, his countervailing beliefs, she examined him mutely, then pronounced him free of fever, fit to travel. Something she saw disturbed her, but she did not say what it was, and he did not ask.

As soon as Sunder's new crop was ripe, he replenished his stock of seeds and refilled his sack of melons. Then he led Covenant and Linden away into the brush.

The Mithil River had turned toward the northwest, and they continued to follow its course as closely as the terrain permitted. Initially, their progress was slow; their way traversed a tangle of ground-ivy which threatened to baffle even the Graveller's strength. But beyond the ivy they entered a deep forest of banyan trees, and walking became easier.

The second day of the fertile sun raised the banyans to heights far beyond anything Covenant would have believed possible. Huge avenues and galleries lay between the trunks; the prodigious intergrown branches arched and stretched like the high groined ceiling and towering pillars of a place of reverence in Revelstone-or like the grand cavern of Earthroot under Melenkurion Skyweir. But the effect was ominous rather than grand. Every bough and trunk seemed to be suffering under its own weight.

Several times, Covenant thought he heard a rumble of hooves in the distance, though he saw nothing.

The next day, the companions met some of the consequences of the sun's necrotic fecundity. By mid- morning, they found themselves struggling through an area which, just the day before, had been a stand of cedars many hundreds of feet tall. But now it looked like the scene of a holocaust.

Sometime during the night, the trees had started to topple; and each falling colossus had chopped down others. Now the entire region was a chaos of broken timber-trunks and branches titanically rent, splintered, crushed. The three companions spent the whole day wrestling with the ruins.

Near sunset, they won through to a low hillside of heather, seething in the breeze and twice their height. Sunder attacked the wrist-thick stems with his poniard, and eventually succeeded in clearing an area large enough for them to lie down. But even then he could not rest; he was taut with anxiety. While they ate, Covenant made no comment; and Linden, wrapped in her privacy, seemed unaware of the Graveller. But later Covenant asked him what troubled him.

Grimly, Sunder replied, “I have found no stone. The moon wanes, and will not penetrate this heather sufficiently to aid my search. I know not how to avoid Marid's fate.”

Covenant considered for a moment, then said, I’ll carry you. If I'm protected, you ought to be safe, too.'

The Graveller acceded with a stiff shrug. But still he did not relax. Covenant's suggestion violated a lifetime of ingrained caution. Quietly, Covenant said, “I think you'll be all right. I was right about the aliantha, wasn't I?”

Sunder responded by settling himself for sleep. But when Covenant awakened briefly during the night and looked about him, he saw the Graveller staring up into the darkness of the heather like a man bidding farewell to the use of his eyes.

The companions rose in the early grey of dawn. Together, they moved through the heather until they found a thinning through which they could glimpse the eastern horizon. The breeze had become stronger and cooler since the previous evening. Covenant felt a low chill of apprehension. Perhaps he and Linden had not been protected by their footwear; perhaps they were naturally immune to the Sunbane. In that case-

They had no time to search for alternatives. Sunrise was imminent. Linden took the sack of melons. Covenant stooped to let Sunder mount his back. Then they faced the east. Covenant had to compel himself not to hold his breath.

The sun came up flaring azure, blue-clad in an aura of sapphire.

It shone for only a moment. Then black clouds began to roll westward like the vanguard of an attack.

“The sun of rain.” With an effort, Sunder ungnarled his fingers from Covenant's shoulders and dropped to the ground. “Now,” he rasped against the constriction of his chest, “we will at last begin to travel with some swiftness. If we do not foil pursuit altogether, we will at least prolong our lives.”

At once, he turned toward the River, started plunging hurriedly through the heather as if he were racing the clouds.

Covenant faced Linden across the rising wind. “Is he all right?”

“Yes,” she replied impatiently. “Our shoes block the Sunbane.” When he nodded his relief, she hastened after Sunder.

The heather spread westward for some distance, then changed abruptly into a thicket of knaggy bushes as tall as trees along the riverbank. The clouds were overhead, and a few raindrops had begun to spatter out of the sky, as Sunder forged into the high brush. While he moved, he hacked or broke off stout branches nearly eight feet along, cut loose long sections of creeper. These he dragged with him through the thicket. When he had collected all he could manage, he gave the branches and vines to his companions, then gathered more wood of the same length.

By the time they came in sight of the riverbed, only a small strip of sky remained clear in the west.

Sunder pressed forward to the edge of the bank. There he prepared a space in which he could work. Obeying his terse orders, though they did not know what he had in mind, Covenant and Linden helped him strip his vines and branches of twigs and leaves. Then they put all the wood together lengthwise, and Sunder lashed it into a secure bundle with the vines. When he was done, he had a tight stack thicker than the reach of his arms.

Wind began to rip the top of the thicket. Heavy drops slapped against the leaves, producing a steady drizzle within the brush. But Sunder appeared to have forgotten his haste. He sat down and did what he could to make himself comfortable.

After a moment, Covenant asked, “Now what?”

Sunder looked at him, at Linden. “Are you able to swim?”

They both nodded.

“Then we will await the rising of the River.”

Covenant blinked the water out of his eyes. Damnation, he muttered. A raft.

The idea was a good one. The current of the Mithil would provide a faster pace than anything they could hope to match by travelling overland. And Sunder's raft would give them something to hold onto so that they did not exhaust themselves. The Graveller had been in such a hurry because the chore of making even this small raft would have been far more difficult under the full weight of the rain. Covenant nodded to himself. Sunder was a more resourceful guide than he deserved.

Linden seated herself near the raft and folded her arms over her knees. In a flat voice, she said, “It's going to be cold.”

That was true; the rain was already chilly. But Covenant ignored it, moved to look down into the river bottom.

The sight made him dubious. The bed was choked with growth almost to the level of the rim. He did not know how long the water would take to rise; but when it did, the trees and brush would make it extremely hazardous.

As Sunder handed out rations of ussusimiel, Covenant continued studying the watercourse. The downpour was hard and flat now, beating into the brush as steadily as a waterfall, and the air darkened gradually; but he could see well enough to make out the first muddy stirrings of the River. Initially, he feared that the water would rise too slowly. But the thicket had caused him to underestimate the force of the storm. The torrents fell heavily-and more heavily moment by moment. The rain sounded like a great beast thrashing in the brush.

The water began to run more rapidly. Moiling like a current of snakes, the stream slipped between the trees, rushed slapping and gurgling through the shrubs. All this region of the South Plains drained into the watercourse.