Stephen Donaldson - The Power That Preserves

But that was no feat; their wrong was written on them so legibly that even a child could read it. Everything else was essentially closed to him. He could not discern Foamfollower’s spirit, or Lena’s confusion, or the snow’s falseness. The stubbornness which should have been apparent in the rocky hillsides above him was invisible. Even this rare gift which the Land had twice given him was half denied him now.

“Foamfollower.” He could hardly refrain from moaning. “It’s not coming back. I can’t-this winter-it’s not coming back.”

“Softly, my friend. I hear you. I”-a wry smile bent his lips-“I have seen what effect this winter has upon you. Perhaps I should be grateful that you cannot behold its effect upon me.”

“What effect?” Covenant croaked.

Foamfollower shrugged as if to deprecate his own plight. “At times-when I have been too long unsheltered in this wind-I find I cannot remember certain precious Giantish tales. My friend, Giants do not forget stories.”

“Hell and blood.” Covenant’s voice shook convulsively. But he neither cried out nor moved from his blankets. “Get that food ready,” he juddered. “I’ve got to eat.” He needed food for strength. His purpose required strength.

There was no question in him about what he meant to do. He was shackled to it as if his leprosy were an iron harness. And the hands that held the reins were in Foul’s Creche.

The stew which Foamfollower handed to him he ate severely, tremorously. Then he lay back in his blankets as if he were stretching himself on a slab, and coerced himself to rest, to remain still and conserve his energy. When the warm stew, and the long debt of recuperation he owed to himself, sent him drifting toward slumber, he fell asleep still glowering thunderously at the bleak, grey, cloud-locked sky.

He awoke again toward noon and found Lena yet asleep. But she was nestling against him now, smiling faintly at her dreams. Foamfollower was no longer nearby.

Covenant glanced around and located the Giant keeping watch up near the head of the ravine. He waved when Covenant looked toward him. Covenant responded by carefully extricating himself from Lena, climbing out of his blankets. He tied his sandals securely onto his numb feet, tightened his jacket, and went to join the Giant.

From Foamfollower’s position, he found that he could see over the rims of the ravine into its natural approaches. After a moment, he asked quietly, “How far did we get?” His breath steamed as if his mouth were full of smoke.

“We have rounded the northmost point of this promontory,” Foamfollower replied. Nodding back over his left shoulder, he continued, “Kevin’s Watch is behind us. Through these hills we can gain the Plains of Ra in three more nights.”

“We should get going,” muttered Covenant. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Practice patience, my friend. We will gain nothing if we hasten into the arms of marauders.”

Covenant looked around, then asked, “Are the Ramen letting marauders get this close to the Ranyhyn? Has something happened to them?”

“Perhaps. I have had no contact with them. But the Plains are threatened along the whole length of the Roamsedge and Landrider rivers. And the Ramen spend themselves extravagantly to preserve the great horses. Perhaps their numbers are too few for them to ward these hills.”

Covenant accepted this as best he could. “Foamfollower,” he murmured, “whatever happened to all that Giantish talk you used to be so famous for? You haven’t actually told me what you’re worried about. Is it those ‘eyes’ that saw you and Triock summon me? Every time I ask a question, you act as if you’ve got lockjaw.”

With a dim smile, Foamfollower said, “I have lived a brusque life. The sound of my own voice is no longer so attractive to me.”

“Is that a fact?” Covenant drawled. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Perhaps,” Foamfollower said softly. But he did not explain.

The Giant’s reticence made Covenant want to ask more questions, attack his own ignorance somehow. He was sure that the issues at stake were large, that the things he did not yet know about the Land’s doom were immensely important. But he remembered the way in which he had extracted information from Banner on the plateau of Rivenrock. He could not forget the consequences of what he had done. He left Foamfollower’s secrets alone.

Down the ravine from him, Lena’s slumber became more restless. He shivered to himself as she began to flinch from side to side, whimpering under her breath. An impulse urged him to go to her, prevent her from thrashing about for fear that she might break her old, frail bones; but he resisted. He could not afford all that she wanted to mean to him.

Yet when she jerked up and looked frantically around her, found that he was gone from her side-when she cried out piercingly, as if she had been abandoned-he was already halfway down the ravine toward her. Then she caught sight of him. Surging up from her blankets, she rushed to meet him, threw herself into his arms. There she clung to him so that her sobs were muffled in his shoulder.

With his right hand-its remaining fingers as numb and awkward as if they should have been amputated-he stroked her thin white hair. He tried to hold her consolingly to make up for his utter lack of comfortable words. Slowly, she regained control of herself. When he eased the pressure of his embrace, she stepped back. “Pardon me, beloved, “she said contritely. “I feared that you had left me. I am weak and foolish, or I would not have forgotten that you are the Unbeliever. You deserve better trust.”

Covenant shook his head dumbly, as if he wished to deny everything and did not know where or how to begin.

“But I could not bear to be without you,” she went on. “In deep nights-when the cold catches at my breast until I cannot keep it out-and the mirror lies to me, saying that I have not kept myself unchanged for you-I have held to the promise of your return. I have not faltered, no! But I learned that I could not bear to be without you-not again. I have earned-I have-But I could not bear it-to sneak alone into the night and crouch in hiding as if I were ashamed-not again.”

“Not again,” Covenant breathed. In her old face he could see Elena clearly now, looking so beautiful and lost that his love for her wrenched his heart. “As long as I’m stuck in this thing-I won’t go anywhere without you.”

But she seemed to hear only his proviso, not his promise. With anguish in her face, she asked, “Must you depart?”

“Yes.” The stiffness of his mouth made it difficult for him to speak gently; he could not articulate without tearing at his newly formed scabs. “I don’t belong here.”

She gasped at his words as if he had stabbed her with them. Her gaze fell away from his face. Panting, she murmured, “Again! I cannot_ cannot — Oh, Atiaran my mother! I love him. I have given my life without regret. When I was young, I ached to follow you to the Loresraat to succeed so boldly that you could say, ‘There is the meaning of my life, there in my daughter.’ I ached to marry a Lord. But I have given-“

Abruptly, she caught the front of Covenant’s jacket in both hands, pulled herself close to him, thrust her gaze urgently at his face. “Thomas Covenant, will you marry me?”

Covenant gaped at her in horror.

The excitement of the idea carried her on in a rush. “Let us marry! Oh, dearest one, that would restore me. I could bear any burden. We do not need the permission of the elders-I have spoken to them many times of my desires. I know the rites, the solemn promises-I can teach you. And the Giant can witness the sharing of our lives.” Before Covenant could gain any control over his face, she was pleading with him. “Oh, Unbeliever! I have borne your daughter. I have ridden the Ranyhyn that you sent to me. I have waited-! Surely I have shown the depth of my love for you. Beloved, marry me. Do not refuse.”