Stephen Donaldson - The Power That Preserves

The loud approach spread out over the far side of the village and began to move inward, working roughly parallel to the river. Instead of trying to surround and trap the Stonedownors, the marauders were performing a slow sweep of the village; disdaining surprise, they manoeuvred so that the people would be forced to flee toward the narrow end of the valley. Covenant could think of no explanation for these tactics but red-eyed confidence and contempt. The marauders wanted to drive the people into the final trap of the valley’s end, thus prolonging and sharpening the anticipated slaughter. Such malicious surety was frightening, but Covenant found relief in it. It was not an approach designed to capture something as reputedly powerful as white gold.

But he soon learned another explanation. As he strained his eyes to peer through the dawn, he saw a sharp flash of green light from the far side of the village. It lasted only an instant, and in its wake a crumbling noise filled the air-a noise like the sound of boulders crushing each other. It startled him so much that he almost leaped to his feet to see what had happened. But he caught himself when he saw the first creatures enter the centre of the Stonedown.

Most of them were vaguely human in outline. But their features were tormented, grotesquely arranged, as if some potent fist had clenched them at birth, twisting them beyond all recognition. Eyes were out of place, malformed; noses and mouths bulged in skin that was contorted like clay which had been squeezed between strong fingers; and in some cases all the flesh of face and scalp oozed fluid as if the entire head were a running sore. And the rest of their forms were no healthier. Some had backs bent at demented angles, others bore extra arms or legs, still others wore their heads between their shoulder blades or in the centre of their chests. But one quality they shared: they all reeked of perversion as if it were the very lifeblood of their existence; and a hatred of everything hale or well curdled their sight.

Naked except for food sacks and bands to hold weapons, they came snarling and spitting into the open core of Mithil Stonedown. There they stopped until the shouts of their fellows told them that the first half of the village was under their control. Then a tall figure with a knuckled face and three massive arms barked a command to the marauders behind her. In response, a group moved into the open circle, bringing with it three prodigious creatures unlike the others.

These three were as blind and hairless as if they had been spawned from ur-viles, but they had neither ears nor noses. Their small heads sat necklessly on their immense shoulders. At the bottom of trunks as big as hogsheads, their short legs protruded like braces, and their heavy arms were long enough to reach the ground. From shoulder to fingertip, the inner surfaces of their arms were covered with suckers. Together, they seemed to ripple in Covenant’s sight, as if within them they carried so much ill might that his unwarped eyes could not discern their limits.

On command, the marauders led the three to a house at the edge of the circle. They were positioned around the building, and at once they moved close to the walls, spread their arms to their fullest extent, gripped the flat rock with their suckers.

Hoarse, growling power began to mount between them. Their might reached around the house and tightened slowly like a noose.

Covenant watched them in blank dismay. He understood the marauders’ tactics now; the band attacked as it did to protect these three. With a stink of attar, their power increased, tightened, growled, until he could see a hawser of green force running through them around the house, squeezing it in implacable fury. He thought that he should shout to the Stonedownors, warn them of the danger. But he was dry-mouthed and frozen with horror. He hardly knew that he had risen to his hands and knees to gain a better view of what was happening.

Moments passed. Tension crackled in the air as the stone of the house began to scream silently under the stress. Covenant gaped at it as if the mute rock were crying out to him for help.

Then the noose exploded in a flash of green force. The house crumbled inward, fell into itself until all its rooms and furnishings were buried in rubble. Its three destroyers stepped back and searched blindly around them for more stone to crush.

Abruptly, a woman screamed-a raw shout of outrage. Covenant heard her running between the houses. He leaped to his feet and saw a fleet, white-haired woman dash past the eaves of his roof with a long knife clenched in both hands. In an instant, she had raced beyond him toward the centre of the Stonedown.

At once he went after her. With two quick steps, he threw himself like a bundle of disjointed limbs toward the next roof. He landed off balance, fell, and slid through the snow almost to the edge of the house. But he picked himself up and moved back to get a running start toward the next roof.

From that position, he saw the woman rush into the open circle. Her scream had alerted the marauders, but they were not ready for the speed with which she launched herself at them. As she sprang, she stabbed the long knife with all her strength, drove it hilt-deep into the breast of the three-armed creature which had been commanding the assault.

The next instant, another creature grabbed her by the hair and flung her back. She lost her knife, fell out of Covenant’s sight in front of one of the houses. The marauders moved after her, swords upraised.

Covenant leaped for the next roof. He kept his balance as he landed this time, ran across the stone, and leaped again. Then he fell skidding on the roof of the house which blocked the woman from his sight. He had too much momentum now; he could not stop. In a cloud of snow, he toppled over the edge and slammed heavily to the ground beside the woman.

The impact stunned him. But his sudden appearance had surprised the attackers, and the nearest creature recoiled several steps, waving its sword defensively as if Covenant were a group of warriors. In the interval, he shook red mist from his eyes, and got gasping to his feet.

The marauders whirled their weapons, dropped into fighting crouches. But when they saw that they were threatened by only one half-stunned man, some of them spat hoarse curses at him and others began to laugh malevolently. Sheathing their weapons, several of them moved forward with an exaggerated display of caution to capture Covenant and the old woman. At this, other creatures jeered harshly, and more came into the circle to see what was happening.

Covenant’s gaze dashed in all directions, hunting for a way of escape. But he could find nothing; he and the woman were alone against more than a score of the misborn creatures.

The marauders’ breathing did not steam in the cold air. Though they wore nothing to protect their flesh from the cold, they seemed horribly comfortable in the preternatural winter.

They approached as if they meant to eat Covenant and the woman alive.

The woman hissed at them in revulsion, but he paid no attention to her. All of him was concentrated on escape. An odd memory tugged at the back of his mind. He remembered a time when Mhoram had made even powerless white gold useful. As the creatures crept hooting toward him, he suddenly brandished his ring and sprang forward a step, shouting, “Get back, you bloody bastards, or I’ll blast you where you stand!”

Either his shout or the sight of his ring startled them; they jumped back a few paces, grabbing at their weapons.

In that instant, Covenant snatched up the woman’s hand and fled. Pulling her after him, he raced to the corner of the house, swung sharply around it, and sped as fast as he could away from the open ground. He lost his hold on the woman almost at once; he could not grip her securely with his half-fingerless hand. But she was running on her own now. In a moment, she caught up with him and took hold of his arm, helped him make the next turn.