White Gold Wielder

in the dark. He was peering straight at Sunder when the krill sent a peal of vivid white ringing across the cavern.

He had no defence as Hollian's shrill cry echoed after the light:

“The na-Mhoram's Grim!”

Argent dazzled him. The Grim! He could not think or see. Such a sending had attacked the company once before; and under an open sky it had killed Memla na-Mhoram-in, had nearly slain Linden and Call. In the enclosed space of the forehall-!

And it would damage Revelstone severely. He had seen the remains of a village which had fallen under the Grim: During Stonedown, Bamako's birthplace. The acid force of the na-Mhoram's curse had eaten the entire habitation to rubble.

Covenant wheeled to face the peril; but still he could not see. His companions scrambled around him. For one mad instant, he believed they were fleeing. But then Cail took hold of his arm, ignoring the pain of suppressed fire; and he heard the First's stern voice. “Mistweave, we must have more light. Chosen, instruct us. How may this force be combated?”

From somewhere beyond his blindness, Covenant heard Linden reply, “Not with your sword.” The ague in her voice blurred the words; she had to fight to make them comprehensible. “We've got to quench it. Or give it something else to burn.”

Covenant's vision cleared in time to see the black hot thunderhead of the Grim rolling toward the company just below the cavern's ceiling.

Confined by the forehall, it appeared monstrously powerful.

Nom was nowhere to be seen; but Covenant's knees felt vibrations through the floor as if the Sandgorgon were attacking the Keep's inner chambers. Or as if Revelstone itself feared what Gibbon had unleashed.

From the entryway came the noise of belaboured wood as Mistweave sought to break down the barrier which sealed the hall. But it had been fashioned with all the stoutness the Clave could devise. It creaked and cracked at Mistweave's blows, but did not break.

When the boiling thunderhead was directly over the company, it shattered with a tremendous and silent concussion that would have flattened Covenant if Call had not upheld him.

In that instant, the Grim became stark black flakes that floated murderously downward, bitter as chips of stone and corrosive as vitriol. The thick Grim fall spanned the company.

Covenant wanted to raise fire to defend his friends. He believed he had no choice; venom and fear urged him to believe he had no choice. But he knew with a terrible certainty that if he unleashed the wild magic now he might never be able to call it back. All his other desperate needs would be lost Loathing himself, he watched and did nothing as the dire flakes settled toward him and the people he loved.

Fole and another Haruchai impelled Linden to the nearest wall, as far as possible from the centre of the Grim-fall. Harn tugged at Hollian, but she refused to leave Sunder. Call was ready to dodge-ready to carry Covenant if necessary. The First and Honninscrave braced themselves to pit their Giantish immunity to fire against the flakes. Findail had disappeared as if he could sense Covenant's restraint and cared about nothing else.

Glaring in the kriIl-light, the flakes wafted slowly downward.

And Sunder stood to meet them.

From his orcrest he drew a red shaft of Sunbane-fire and started burning the black bits out of the air.

His beam consumed every flake it touched. With astonishing courage or abandon, he faced the entire Grim himself. But the bits were falling by the thousands. They were too much for him. He could not even clear the air above his own head to protect himself and Hollian.

Then Pitchwife Joined him. Incongruously crippled and valiant, the Giant also attacked the Grim, using as his only weapon the pouches of vitrim he had borne with him from Hamako's rhyshyshim. One after another, he emptied them by spraying vitrim at the flakes.

Each flake the liquid touched became ash and drifted harmlessly away.

His visage wore a grimace of grief at the loss of his carefully hoarded Waynhim roborant; but while it lasted he used it with deliberate extravagance.

Honninscrave slapped at the first flake which neared his head, then gave an involuntary cry as the black corrosive ate into his palm. The Grim had been conceived to destroy stone, and no mortal flesh was proof against it.

Around Covenant, the cavern started to reel. The irreconcilable desperation of his plight was driving him mad.

But at that instant a huge splintering crashed through the air; and the wooden barricade went down under Mistweave's attack. More light washed into the forehall, improving the ability of the Haruchai to dodge the Grim. And wood followed the light Fiercely, Mistweave tore the barrier beam from timber and flung the pieces toward the company.

Haruchai intercepted the smaller fragments, used them as cudgels to batter Grim-flakes from the air. But the First, Honninscrave, and then Pitchwife snatched up the main timbers. At once, wood whirled around the company. The First swung a beam as tall as herself as if it were a flail. Honninscrave swept flakes away from Sunder and Hollian. Pitchwife pounced to Linden's defence with an enormous club in each fist.

The Grim destroyed the wood almost instantly. Each flake tore the weapon which touched it to charcoal. But the broken barricade had been huge; and Mistweave attacked it with the fury of a demon, sending a constant rush of fragments skidding across the floor to the hands of the company.

Honninscrave took another flake on his shoulder and nearly screamed; yet he went on fighting as if he were back in the cave of the One Tree and still had a chance to save his brother.

Three of the Haruchai threw Linden from place to place like a child. In that way they were able to keep her out of the path of the Grim-fall more effectively than if one of them had tried to carry her. But their own movements were hampered. Two of them had already suffered bums; and as Covenant watched, a black bit seemed to shatter Fole's left leg. He balanced himself on his right as if pain had no meaning and caught Linden when she was tossed to him.

Around the cavern, flakes began to strike the floor and detonate, ripping holes the size of Giant-hands in the smooth stone. Acrid smoke intensified the air as if the granite were smouldering.

Durris, Harn, and two more Haruchai whipped brands and staves around the Stonedownors. Sunder lashed a frenzy of red power at the Grim. The First and Hoinninscrave laboured like berserkers, spending wood as rapidly as Mistweave fed it to them. Pitchwife followed his wife's example, protected her back with boards and timbers. He still had one pouch of vitrim left.

And Cail bounded and ducked through the drifting peril with Covenant slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Covenant could not catch his breath to shout. Call's shoulder forced the air from his lungs. But he had to make himself heard somehow. “Sunder,” he gasped. “Sunder.”

By intuition or inspiration, the Haruchai understood him. With a strength and agility that defied the thickening Grim-fall, he bore Covenant toward the Graveler.

An instant later Covenant was whirled to his feet beside Sunder. Vertigo squalled around him; he had no balance. His hands were too numb to feel the fire mounting in him at every moment. If he could have seen Sunder's face, he would have cried out, for it was stretched and frantic with exhaustion. But the light of the krill blazed at Covenant's eyes. In the chaos of the cavern, that untrammelled brightness was the only point on which he could anchor himself.

The company had already survived miraculously long. But the Grim seemed to have no end, and soon even Giants and Haruchai would have to fall. This sending was far worse than the other one Covenant had experienced because it was enclosed-and because it was being fed directly by the Banefire. Through the stamp of feet and the burst of fires, he heard Linden cursing the pain of the people