Only those who hate Edit

Elena was killed when she attempted to temporarily rid the Despiser from the Land using EarthBlood, bringing Kevin back to life. Covenant was taken care of by an Unfettered who sacrificed her life to heal him. He awakes after a night and day. He wanders about until he finds Triock. They discuss the people Covenant has hurt, Triock being very accusing and harsh. Covenant attempts to defend his actions. He notices Triock is acting strange but believes it is because of all the pain Covenant has inflicted upon him, thus he forgives and endures Triock's hatred.

As he worked, Triock mumbled to himself in a tone that made Covenant feel oddly uncomfortable. His movements seemed awkward, as if he were trying to conceal arcane gestures while he handled the food. He avoided Covenant’s gaze, but whenever Covenant looked away, he could feel Triock’s eyes furtively over him and flinch away. He was startled when Triock said abruptly, “So you have given up hate.”

“Given up--?” He had not thought of the matter in those terms before. “Maybe I have. It doesn’t seem like a very good answer. I mean, aside from the fact that there’s no room for it--in the law of leprosy. Hate, humiliation, revenge--I make a mistake every time I let them touch me. I risk my life. And love, too, if you want to know the truth. But aside from that. It does’t seem that I could beat Foul that way. I’m just a man. I can’t hate--forever--as he can. And”--he forced himself to articulate a new perception--“my hate isn’t pure It’s corrupt because part of me always hates me instead of him. Always.”

Triock placed a stoneware pot of stew in the fire to cook and said in a tone of eerie conviction, “It is the only answer. Look about you. Health, love, duty--none suffice against this winter. Only those who hate are immortal."


“Certainly. Death claims all else in the end. How else do the Despiser and--and his” -- he said the name as if it dismayed him--“Ravers endure? They hate.” In his hoarse, barking tone, the word took on a wide range of passion and violence, as if indeed it were the one word of truth and transcendence.

The savor of the stew began to reach Covenant. He found that he was hungry--and that his inner quiescence covered even Triock’s queer asseverations. He stretched out his legs, reclined on one elbow. “Hate,” he sighed softly, reducing the word to manageable dimensions.  “Is that it, Triock? I think--I think I’ve spent this whole thing--dream, delusion, fact, whatever you want to call it--I’ve spent it all looking for a good answer to death. Resistance, rape--ridicule--love--hate? Is that it? Is that your answer?”

“Do not mistake me,” Triock replied. “I do not hate death.”

Covenant gazed deep into the dance of the fire for a moment and let the aroma of the stew remind him of deep, sure, empty peace. Then he said as if he were completing a litany. “What do you hate?”

“I hate life.”


"I am turiya Raver, also called Herem--and Kinslaughterer--and Triock." He laughed again grotesquely. "This guise has served me well, though 'Triock' is not pleased. Behold me, groveler! I need no longer let his form and thoughts disguise me. You are powerless. Ah, I savor that jest! So now I permit you to know me as I am. It was I who slew the Giants of Seareach--I who slew the Unfettered One as he sought to warn that fool Mhoram--I who have captured the white gold! Brothers! I will sit upon the master's right hand and rule the universe!"