The Wounded Land Read Online Free Page A

whole ordeal was hopeless.
    She did not relent.
    All the blackness of her life was in her. She had spent too many years teaching herself to be effective against death; she could not surrender now. She had been too young, weak, and ignorant to save her father, could not have saved her mother; now that she knew what to do and could do it, she would never quit, never falsify her life by quitting.
    Dark motes began to dance across her vision; the air swarmed with moisture and inadequacy. Her arms felt leaden; her lungs cried out every time she forced breath down the old man’s throat. He lay inert. Tears of rage and need ran hotly down her face. Yet she did not relent.
    She was still half conscious when a tremor ran through him, and he took a hoarse gulp of air.
    At once, her will snapped. Blood rushed to her head. She did not feel herself fall away to the side.
    When she regained enough self-command to raise her head, her sight was a smear of pain and her face was slick with sweat. The old man was standing over her. His eyes were on her; the intense blue of his gaze held her like a hand of compassion. He looked impossibly tall and healthy; his very posture seemed to deny that he had ever been close todeath. Gently he reached down to her, drew her to her feet. As he put his arms around her, she slumped against him, unable to resist his embrace.
    “Ah, my daughter, do not fear.”
    His voice was husky with regret and tenderness.
    “You will not fail, however he may assail you. There is also love in the world.”
    Then he released her, stepped back. His eyes became commandments.
    “Be true.”
    She watched him dumbly as he turned, walked away from her into the field. Milkweed and wild mustard whipped against his robe for a moment. She could hardly see him through the blurring of her vision. A musky breeze stirred his hair, made it a nimbus around his head as the sun began to set. Then he faded into the humidity, and was gone.
    She wanted to call out after him, but the memory of his eyes stopped her.
    Be true
.
    Deep in her chest, her heart began to tremble.

TWO: Something Broken
    After a moment, the trembling spread to her limbs. The surface of her skin felt fiery, as if the rays of the sun were concentrated on her. The muscles of her abdomen knotted.
    The old man had vanished. He had put his arms around her as if he had the right, and then he had vanished.
    She feared that her guts were going to rebel.
    But then her gaze lurched toward the dirt where the old man had lain. There she saw the used hypodermic, the sterile wrappings, the empty vial. The dust bore the faint imprint of a body.
    A shudder ran through her, and she began to relax.
    So he had been real. He had only appeared to vanish. Her eyes had tricked her.
    She scanned the area for him. He should not be walking around; he needed care, observation, until his condition stabilized. But she saw no sign of him. Fighting an odd reluctance, she waded out into the wild mustard after him. But when she reached the place where her eyes had lost him, she found nothing.
    Baffled, she returned to the roadway. She did not like to give him up; but she appeared to have no choice in the matter. Muttering under her breath, she went to retrieve her bag.
    The debris of her treatment she stuffed into one of the plastic specimen sacks she carried. Then she returned to her car. As she slid into the front seat, she gripped the steering wheel with both hands to steady herself on its hard actuality.
    She did not remember why she had come to Haven Farm until the book on the seat beside her caught her attention.
    Oh, damn!
    She felt intensely unready to confront Thomas Covenant.
    For a moment, she considered simply abandoning the favor she had promised Dr. Berenford. She started the engine, began to turn the wheel. But the exigency of the old man’s eyes held her. That blue would not approve the breaking of promises. And she had saved him. She had set a precedent for herself which was more