Thomas Covenant - 02b - Gilden Fire (6 page)

 
A trap, Cerrin said. We have been snared.

Korik called to Lord Shetra, then bounded onto Brabha’s back and pelted down the hillside toward the tree. The rest of the company followed him instantly. As he reached the fire, he ordered the Bloodguard into a defensive formation around him. To Lord Hyrim, he shouted, “Come!”

Hyrim did not turn his head. With sweat running down his cheeks and a wide intensity like obsession in his eyes, he kept working for the tree: he invoked water as if he were heaving it out of the ground by main force of will, vitalized the tree’s resistance to flame, and now pulled at the fire itself, drawing it slowly tongue by tongue, away from the branches. But through the slow beats of the lillianrill chant he wove for the Gilden, he hissed to Korik, “It must be saved!”

 
This task consumes him, Sill said. He urges the mission to go without him.

 
He will be slain, Korik snapped.

 
Not while I live.

 
You will not live long.

 
That is the way with him, Sill shrugged silently.

Korik had no time to debate whether or not he should desert one Lord for the sake of the mission. He did not intend to make that choice.

Summon or succour. Swiftly, he threw himseff from Brabha, stepped in front of Hyrim. He would not allow the son of Hoole to commit suicide. Almost wincing at the way he was forced to violate his Vowed service to any Lord, he shouted into Hyrim ‘s concentration, “Will you sacrifice the Giants for one tree?”

The Lord did not stop. His eyes reflected the fire with a ferocity Korik had never seen in him before. He seemed to be sweating passion as he panted, “The choice is not so simple!”

Korik reached out a hand to wrest Hyrim away from his mad purpose. But at that instant Shetra barked, “Korik, you forget yourself!” and cast her power like a shout to Hyrim’s support. The sheer force of their combined exertion made Korik recoil a step.

The wolves were almost upon them: the bristling growl filled the air with the sound of fangs.

Briskly, Korik marshalled his comrades arnund him on their mounts. The Ranyhyn champed and snorted tensely, but held their positions against the stow advance of the wolves.

Together, the Lords gave a wild cry; and the light of Gildenfire fell suddenly out of the night.

As darkness rushed back into the valley, Hyrim stumbled against Korik, nearly fell. Korik half threw the Lord to Sill, who boosted Hyrim up onto

his mount.

Shouting the company into motion, Korik leaped for Brabha’s back. The next moment, the leading wolves attacked. But with a heave of their mighty muscles, the Ranyhyn started together toward the east. In close formation, they struck the springing wall of the wolves
 
and the wall broke like a wave on a jutting fist of rock. The Ranyhyn surged through the pack, shedding wolves like water, striving to gain speed. At first their headon charge threw the pack into confusion. But then the wolves chasing them came close enough to leap onto their backs. Pren and four other Bloodguard in the rear of the company were about to be engulfed.

Lord Shetra slowed her mount. Reacting instinctively, the Bloodguard parted behind her, let her drop back beside Pren. As the flood of wolves came toward her, she swung her staff at them. The blow knocked down the first beasts and set flame to them, so that they flared up like tinder. The following pack jumped aside from the sudden fire: the rush was momentarily broken.

In that respite, the Ranyhyn reached full stride. Plunging to keep away from the fangs, they laboured up the slope. The pack raged at their heels; but they were Ranyhyn, swifter even than the yellow kresh. By the time they topped the valley’s rim and thundered back into the closed woods, they were three strides ahead of the pack.

Then through the depths of Grimmerdhore the Ranyhyn raced the wolves. Korik could no longer see as well as the horses, so he abandoned to them all concern for the direction and safety of the run. Unchecked, they dodged deftly through the night as if they were riding the wind. But still the Forest hampered them, interfered with their running, prevented them from their best speed. And the wolves were not hampered. They swept along the ground easily, passed through the woods like a black tide, When they gave tongue to the chase, they did not break stride.

The gap between the pack and the company shrank and grew as Grimmerdhore thickened and thinned. Through one tight copse Pren and his clankin had to fend off wolves on both sides. But fortunately the terrain beyond was relatively open; and the Ranyhyn were able to restore the gap.

During it all
 
the dodging, the surging pace, the unevenness of the ground
 
Lord Hyrim clung to his seat. He was kept there by the proud skill of his mount. And the other Ranyhyn aided him by choosing their ways so that his horse had the straightest path through the trees. When he observed this, Korik applauded silently, and his chest grew tight with admiration, in spite of the other demands on his attention.

Still the race went on. The Ranyhyn pounded through the Forest with growing abandon, discounting the safety of the company more and more for the sake of speed. As a result the riders had to hold their seats when they were lashed by branches, wrenched from side to side while the horses evaded looming trunks. But the savage pursuit of the wolves did not abate. Clearly, the will which drove them was strong and compelling; and Korik guessed that a powerful band of urviles remained in Grimmerdhore
 
a force which used the wolves just as it had used the Gilden and the other urviles. But such thoughts were of no value now. The wolves were the immediate danger. Hundreds of ravenous throats howled: hundreds of jaws gaped and bit furiously, as if they were too eager to wait for the raw flesh of the company. The Ranyhyn gave their best speed
 
and the pack did not fall behind.

Korik was revolving desperate solutions in his mind when the company broke out into a broad open glade. Under the stars, he saw the ravine which cut through the centre of the glade across the company’s path. It was an old dry watercourse, deeply eroded before its source turned elsewhere. And it was far too wide for the wolves: they could not leap it. If the Ranyhyn could manage the jump, the company would gain precious time.

But when the wolves burst out of the woods, they broke into hard howls of triumph. In a few strides, Korik saw his danger: the ravine appeared to be too wide even for the Ranyhyn. For an instant, he hesitated. In his long years, he had heard the shrieking of horses far too often. He knew how the Ranyhyn would scream if they shattered their bones against the opposite wall of the ravine. But their nightsight was better than his: he could not make this decision for them. He silenced his fears, shouted to his comrades:

 
Let the Ranyhyn choose! They will not err! But ward Lord Hyrim!

Then Runnik reached the ravine. His mount gathered itself, seemed for an instant to shrink, to coil in on its strength
 
and sprang. Already it was too late for the rest of the riders to stop; but Korik kept his eyes on Runnik, watched the leading Ranyhyn so that he would have an instant’s warning of his fate
 
an instant in which to try to save himself for the sake of the mission. For the first time since the night when he had assumed his Vow, he left the Lords to their own fortunes. He expected Hyrim to fall. As old Brabha started into his own jump, the Lord wailed as if he were plunging from a precipice.

Then the Ranyhyn carrying Runnik touched down safely on the far side of the ravine. Beside him, Tull and another Bloodguard also landed with ground to spare, followed by Cerrin, Shetra, Korik, Hyrim, and Sill in a line together. Lord Hyrim flopped forward and back as if his mount were bucking: his wail was broken off. But he did not lose his seat. Amid the wild yowling frustration of the wolves, the rest of the Bloodguard jumped the ravine. The Ranyhyn sprinted across the glade with clear ground at their heels.

Behind them, the wolves rushed on, caught in the grip of a dementing passion. They piled into the dry watercourse, careless of what happened to them, and scrambled furiously up the far side. But Korik was confident of escape now. The company had almost reached the edge of the glade when the first wolf clawed its way out of the ravine. Korik leaned forward to say a word of praise in Brabha’s backbent ears.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lord Hyrim tumble like a lifeless sack to the ground.

Korik shouted to the company. Immediately, the leaders peeled around to return to Hyrim as fast as possible. But Pren, the rearmost Bloodguard, saw Hyrim’s fall in time to leap down from his own mount. In a few steps, he reached the motionless Lord. While Korik and the others were turning, Pren reported that Hyrim was unconscious
 
stunned either by his fall or by the jolt of the jump over the ravine.

Wheeling Brabha, Korik gauged the distances. The wolves surged out of the ravine in great numbers now: they howled rabidly toward the men on the ground. The company would barely have time to snatch up Hyrim and take defensive positions around him before the pack struck.

But as Korik pulled his comrades into formation, Lord Shetra ordered him back. She had a plan of her own. Driving her mount straight for Hyrim, she called to Pren, “His staff! Hold it upright!”

Pren obeyed swiftly. He caught up Hyrim’s staff from the grass, gripped it with one metalshod end planted on the ground between him and the charging wolves.

As he did this, Shetra swung her Ranyhyn until she was running parallel to the line of the charge. When she flashed behind Pren, she cried, “Melenkurion abatha!” and dealt Hyrim’s staff a hammering blow with her own.

A silent concussion shook the air: the ground seemed to heave momentarily under the hooves of the Ranyhyn. From Hyrim’s staff a plane of power spread out on both sides, came like a wall between the wolves and the company across the whole eastern face of the glade. Seen through this barrier, the scrambling wolves appeared distorted, mad, wronged.

Then they smashed into the wall. In that instant, the area of impact flared like a sheet of blue lightning; and the wolves were thrown back. They charged it again as more of them reached it, hurled themselves against the rippling plane
 
howled and raved, assaulted the air. But wherever they hit the wall, it flared blue and cast them back. Soon they were crashing into it in such numbers that the whole plane across the length of the glade caught fire. Where the greatest weight of the pack pressed and fought against it, it scaled upward into dazzling brightness. Carefully, Shetra withdrew Hyrim’s staff from the plane. It wavered as if it were about to break; but she sang to it softly, and it steadied, stood up firmly under the strain.

It was too much for the wolves. In a wild excess of passion and frustration, they began to attack each other
 
venting their driven rage on the nearest flesh until the whole place was consumed in a boiling melee.

Lord Shetra turned away as if the sight hurt her. She appeared suddenly weary: the exertion of commanding two staffs had drained her. Dully, she said to Korik, “We must go. If it is assailed again, my Word will not endure. And if there are urviles nearby, they will know how to Counter it. I am too worn to speak another.” Then she knelt to examine Hyrim.

In a moment, she ascertained that he had no broken bones, no internal bleeding, no concussion. She left him to Korik and Sill. Working rapidly, they placed Hyrim on the back of his Ranyhyn and lashed him there with clingor thongs. When he was secured, the Bloodguard sprang to their own mounts, and the company hurried away into the covered darkness of Grimmerdhore.

The Ranyhyn moved at a near gallop. Soon the intervening Forest quenched the tumult of the wolves, and the company was surrounded by a welcome silence. But still they ran: they did not stop or slow, even when Lord Hyrim returned to groaning consciousness. They left him alone until he was alert enough to free himself from the clingor .
 
Then Lord Shetra explained to him shortly, in a tired voice, what had happened.

He took the news dumbly, nodded his comprehension of her words. Then he lay down on the Ranyhyn’s neck as if he were hiding his head and clung there through the rest of the night.

At dawn, Korik called a halt beside a stream to water the horses and allow the Lords to eat a few treasureberries. But after that they moved on again at a fast canter. Korik did not want to spend another night in Grimmerdhore; and he could feel Brabha’s eagerness to break out of the dark woods.