Stephen Donaldson - The Power That Preserves

Roaring with fury, the marauders started in pursuit. But when they entered the lane between the houses, Foamfollower dove from a rooftop and crashed headlong into them like a battering ram. Constricted by the houses on either side, they could not evade him; he hit them squarely, breaking the ones nearest him and bowling the others back into the centre of the Stonedown.

Then Triock, Quirrel, and Yeurquin led a dozen Stonedownors into the village across the roofs. Amid the confusion caused by the Giant’s attack, the defenders fell onto the marauders like a rain of swords and javelins. Other people ran forward to engage the creatures that were still hunting among the houses. In moments, fighting raged throughout the Stonedown.

But Covenant did not stop; drawing the woman with him, he fled until he was past the last buildings. There he lengthened his stride, intending to run as far as he could up the valley. But Slen intercepted him. Panting hoarsely, Slen snapped at the woman, “Fool! You have lost sense altogether.” Then he tugged at Covenant. “Come. Come.”

Covenant and the woman followed him away from the river along an unmarked path into the foothills. A few hundred yards above the village, they came to a jumble of boulders-the ancient remains of a rockfall from the mountains. Slen took a cunning way in among the boulders and soon reached a large, hidden cave. Several Stonedownors stood on guard at the cave mouth, and within it the children and the ill or infirm huddled around graveling bowls.

Covenant was tempted to enter the cave and share its sanctuary. But near its mouth was a high, sloped heap of rock with a broad crown. He turned and climbed the rocks to find out if he could see the Stonedown from its top. The white-haired woman ascended lightly behind him; soon they stood together, looking down at the battle of Mithil Stonedown.

The altitude of his position surprised him. He had not realized that he had climbed so high. Vertigo made his feet feel suddenly slippery, and he recoiled from the sight. For a moment, the valley reeled around him. He could not believe that a short time ago he had been leaping across rooftops; the mere thought of such audacity seemed to sweep his balance away, leaving him at the mercy of the height. But the woman caught hold of him, supported him. And his urgent need to watch the fighting helped him to resist his dizziness. Clinging half unconsciously to the woman’s shoulder, he forced himself to peer downward.

At first, the cloud-locked dimness of the day obscured the battle, prevented him from being able to distinguish what was happening. But as he concentrated, he made out the Giant.

Foamfollower dominated the melee in the Stonedown’s centre. He waded hugely through the marauders, heaved himself from place to place. Swinging his mighty fists like cudgels, he chopped creatures down, pounded them out of his way with blows which appeared powerful enough to tear their heads off. But he was sorely outnumbered. Though his movement prevented the marauders from hitting him with a concerted attack, they were armed and he was not. As Covenant watched, several of the creatures succeeded in knocking Foamfollower toward one of the rock destroyers.

The soft, glad tone of the woman’s voice jarred painfully against his anxiety. “Thomas Covenant, I thank you,” she said. “My life is yours.”

Foamfollower! Covenant cried silently. “What?” He doubted that the woman had actually spoken. “I don’t want your life. What in hell possessed you to run out there, anyway?”

“That is unkind,” she replied quietly. “I have waited for you. I have ridden your Ranyhyn.”

The meaning of what she said did not penetrate him. “Foamfollower is getting himself killed down there because of you.”

“I have borne your child.”

What?

Without warning, her words hit him in the face like ice water. He snatched his hand from her shoulder, jerked backward a step or two across the rock. A shift in the wind brought the clamour of battle up to him in tatters, but he did not hear it. For the first time, he looked at the woman.

She appeared to be in her mid-sixties- easily old enough to be his mother. Lines of groundless hope marked her pale skin around the blue veins in her temples, and the hair which plumed her head was no longer thick. He saw nothing to recognize in the open expectancy of her mouth, or in the bone-leanness of her body, or in her wrinkled hands. Her eyes had a curious, round, misfocused look, like the confusion of madness.

But for all their inaccuracy, they were spacious eyes, like the eyes of the women she claimed for her mother and daughter. And woven into the shoulders of her long blue robe was a pattern of white leaves.

“Do you not know me, Thomas Covenant?” she said gently. “I have not changed. They all wish me to change-Triock and Trell my father and the Circle of elders, all wish me to change. But I do not. Do I appear changed?”

“No,” Covenant panted. With sour nausea in his mouth, he understood that he was looking at Lena, the woman he had violated with his lust-mother of the woman he had violated with his love-recipient of the Ranyhyn-boon he had instigated when he had violated the great horses with his false bargains. Despite her earlier fury, she looked too old, too fragile, to be touched. He forced out the words as if they appalled him. “No-change.”

She smiled with relief. “I am glad. I have striven to hold true. The Unbeliever deserves no less.”

“Deserves,” Covenant croaked helplessly. The battle noises from Mithil Stonedown taunted him again. “Hellfire.”

He coerced himself to meet her gaze, and slowly her smile turned to a look of concern. She moved forward, reached out to him. He wanted to back away, but he held still as her fingertips lightly touched his lip, then stroked a cool line around the wound on his forehead. “You have been harmed,” she said. “Does the Despiser dare to assault you in your own world?”

He felt that he had to warn her away from him; the misfocus of her gaze showed that she was endangered by him. Rapidly, he whispered, “Atiaran’s judgment is coming true. The Land is being destroyed, and it’s my fault.”

Her fingers caressed him as if they were trying to smooth a frown from his brow. “You will save the Land. You are the Unbeliever-the new Berek Half hand of our age.”

“I can’t save anything-I can’t even help those people down there. Foamfollower is my friend, and I can’t help him. Triock-Triock has earned anything I can do, and I can’t-“

“Were I a Giant,” she interrupted with sudden vehemence, “I would require no aid in such a battle. And Triock-” She faltered unexpectedly, as if she had stumbled over an unwonted perception of what Triock meant to her. “He is a Cattleherd-content. He wishes-But I am unchanged. He-“

Covenant stared at the distress which strained her face. For an instant, her eyes seemed to be on the verge of seeing clearly, and her forehead tightened under the imminence of cruel facts. “Covenant?” she whispered painfully. “Unbeliever?”

“Yes, I know,” Covenant mumbled in spite of himself. “He would consider himself lucky if he got killed.” As tenderly as he could, he reached out and drew her into his arms.

At once she embraced him, clung convulsively to him while a crisis within her crested, receded. But even as he gave her what comfort he could with his arms, he was looking back toward the Stonedown. The shouts and cries and clatter of the fighting outweighed his own torn emotions, his conflicting sympathy for and horror of Lena. When she stepped back from him, he had to force himself to meet the happiness which sparkled in her mistaken eyes.

“I am so glad-my eyes rejoice to behold you. I have held-I have desired to be worthy. Ah, you must meet our daughter. She will make you proud.”