Thomas Covenant 02: The Illearth War by Stephen R. Donaldson

Author:Stephen R. Donaldson [Donaldson, Stephen R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780307818676
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2012-04-04T04:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN: Tull’s Tale

Troy’s heart lurched, and began to labor heavily. Tull! He could feel his pulse beating in his temples. Korik’s mission! After the shock of Runnik’s news, he had repressed all thought of the Giants, refused to let himself think of them. He had concentrated on the war, concentrated on something he could do something about. But now his thoughts reeled. The Giants!

Almost instantly he began to calculate. He had been away from Revelstone for twenty-five days. The mission to Seareach had left eighteen days before that. That was almost enough time, almost enough. The Giants could not travel as fast as Bloodguard on Ranyhyn—but surely they would not be far behind. Surely—

Troy could understand how Tull had come here. It made sense. The other Bloodguard would be leading the Giants, and Tull had come ahead to tell the Warward that help was on the way. With war on the Land and Lord Foul marching, the Giants would not go to Revelstone, would not go north at all. They would go south, around Sarangrave Flat if not through it. The Bloodguard knew Troy’s battle plan; they would know what to do. They would pick up the trail of Lord Foul’s army above Landsdrop south of Mount Thunder, and would follow it—past Morinmoss, through the Mithil valley, then southwest toward Doom’s Retreat. They would be hoping to attack Lord Foul’s rear during the battle of the Retreat. And Tull, seeking to circumvent Lord Foul’s army in search of the Warward, would naturally come south to skirt the Southron Range toward Doom’s Retreat. That route would bring him almost to the doorstep of Mithil Stonedown. Surely—!

When Tull topped the stair and stepped onto the Watch, Troy was so eager that he jumped past all preliminary questions. “Where are they?” The words came so rapidly that he could hardly articulate them. “How far behind are they?”

In the dim light of the graveling, he was unable to make out Tull’s face. But he could tell that the Bloodguard was not looking at him. “Lord,” Tull said, “I was charged by Korik to give my tidings to the High Lord. With Shull and Vale I was charged—” For an instant, his fiat voice faltered. “But the Bloodguard in the Stonedown have told me that the High Lord has gone into the Westron Mountains with Amok. I must give my tidings to you. Will you hear?”

Even through his excitement, Troy sensed something strange in Tull’s tone, something that sounded like pain. But he could not wait to hear it explained. Before Lord Mhoram could reply, Troy repeated, “Where are they?”

“They?” said the Bloodguard.

“The Giants! How far behind are they?”

Tull turned deliberately away from him to face Lord Mhoram.

“We will hear you,” Mhoram said. His voice was tense with dread, but he spoke steadily, without hesitation. “This war is in our hands. Speak, Bloodguard.”

“Lord, they—we could not—the Giants—” Suddenly the habitual flatness of Tull’s voice was gone. “Lord!” The word vibrated with a grief so keen that the Bloodguard could not master it.

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