The trunk was only three or four steps away, but the two-hundred-foot drop to the ground made him freeze, hesitate apprehensively while the first reels of vertigo gnawed at his resolve. But as he stood in the Hirebrand's doorway, he heard the shouting of young voices, and saw children scampering through the branches overhead. Some of them pursued others, and in the chase they sprang from limb to limb as blithely as if the fall were helpless to hurt them.
The next instant, two children, a boy and a girl, dropped onto the limb before Covenant from a branch nearly twenty feet above. The girl was in merry pursuit of the boy, but he eluded her touch and darted around behind Covenant. From this covert, he shouted gleefully, “Safe! Chase another! I am safe!”
Without thinking, Covenant said, “He's safe.”
The girl laughed, faked a lunge forward, and sprang away after someone else. At once, the boy dashed to the trunk and scurried up the ladder toward higher playgrounds.
Covenant took a deep breath, clutched the staff for balance, and stepped away from the door. Teetering awkwardly, he struggled to the relative safety of the trunk.
After that, he felt better. When he slid the staff through his pack straps, he could grip the ladder with both hands, and then the secure touch of the rungs reassured him. Before he had covered half the distance, his heart was no longer pounding, and he was able to trust his hold enough to look about him at the dwellings and people he passed.
Finally, he reached the lowest branches, and followed Atiaran down the stair to the ground. There the Heers were gathered to say their farewells. When he saw Baradakas, Covenant took the staff in his hands to show that he had not forgotten it, and grimaced in response to the Hirebrand's smile.
“Well, message-bearers,” said Llaura after a pause, 'you have told us that the fate of the Land is on your shoulders, and we believe. It sorrows us that we cannot ease the burden-but we judge that no one can take your place in this matter. What little help we can give we have given. All which remains for us is to defend our homes, and to pray for you. We wish you good speed for the sake of all the Land. And for your own sake we urge you to be in time for the Celebration. There are great omens of hope for any who view that festival.
'Atiaran Trell-mate, go in Peace and fealty. Remember the path Soranal taught you, and do not turn aside.
“Thomas Covenant, Unbeliever and stranger to the Land-be true. In the hour of darkness, remember the Hirebrand's staff. Now be on your way.”
Atiaran replied as formally as if she were completing a ritual. “We go, remembering Soaring Woodhelven for home and help and hope.” She bowed, touching her palms to her forehead and then spreading her arms wide. Uncertainly, Covenant followed her example. The Heers returned the heart-opening gesture of farewell with ceremonial deliberateness. Then Atiaran strode off northward, and Covenant scudded along behind her like a leaf in the wake of her determination.
Neither of them looked back. The rest and restoration of the fair tree village made them brisk, gave them a forward air. They were both in their separate ways eager for Andelain, and they knew that Jehannum had left Soaring Woodhelven toward the east, not the north. They hastened ahead among the richening hills, and reached the banks of the Mithil River early that afternoon.
They crossed by wading a wide shallows. Before she entered the water, Atiaran removed her sandals, and some half conscious insight urged Covenant to take off his boots and socks, roll up his pant legs. As he smelled the first lush scents of the Hills, he felt somehow that he needed to wade the Mithil barefoot in order to be ready, that the foot-washing of the stream was necessary to transubstantiate his flesh into the keener essence of Andelain. And when he stepped onto the north bank, he found that he could feel its vitality through his feet; now even his soles were sensitive to the Land's health.
He so liked the strong sensation of the Hills under his toes that he was loath to put his boots back on, but he denied himself that pleasure so that he would be able to keep up with Atiaran's pace. Then he followed her along the path which Soranal had taught her-an easy way through the centre of Andelain walked and wondered at the change that had come over the Earth since they had crossed the river.
He felt the change distinctly, but it seemed to go beyond the details which composed it. The trees were generally taller and broader than their southern relations; abundant and prodigal
Enclosed in the Hills, surrounded by such tangible and specific vitality, he became more and more surprised that Atiaran did not wish to linger. As they hiked over the lambent terrain, penetrating league after league deeper into Andelain, he wanted to stop at each new revelation, each new valley or avenue or dale, to savour what he saw-grip it with his eyes until it was a part of him, indelible, secure against any coming bereavement. But Atiaran pushed on-arising early, stopping little, hurrying late. Her eyes were focused far away, and the fatigue mounting behind her features seemed unable to reach the surface. Clearly, even these Hills paled for her beside her anticipation of the unexplained “Celebration.” Covenant had no choice but to urge himself after her; her will tolerated no delay.
Their second night away from Soaring Woodhelven was so bright and clear that they did not have to stop with the setting of the sun, and Atiaran kept going until nearly midnight. After supper, Covenant sat for a while looking at the sky and the piquant stars. The aging crescent of the moon stood high in the heavens, and its white sliver sent down only a suggestion of the eldritch light which had illuminated his first night in the Land. Casually, he remarked, “The moon'll be dark in a few days.”
At that, Atiaran looked at him sharply, as if she suspected that he had discovered some secret of hers. But she said nothing, and he did not know whether she reacted to a memory or to an anticipation.
The next day began as splendidly as the previous one. Sunshine begemmed the dew, sparkled like diamonds among the grass and leaves; air as fresh as the Earth's first breath carried the tang of
Instinctively, he recoiled, jerked back three steps. At once, the threatening sensation vanished. But his nerves remembered it from the sole of his foot up the whole length of his leg.
He was so surprised, so insulted, that he did not think to call Atiaran. Instead, he cautiously approached the spot on which he had felt the danger, and touched it with one tentative toe. This time, however, he felt nothing but the lush grass of Andelain. Bending down, he went over the grass for a yard in all directions with his hands. But whatever had fired his sense of wrongness was gone now, and after a moment of perplexity he started forward again. At first he took each step gingerly, expecting another jolt. But the earth seemed as full of pure, resonant vitality as before. Shortly, he broke into a trot to catch up with Atiaran.
Toward evening, he felt the sting of wrong again, as if he had stepped in acid. This time, he reacted in violent revulsion; he pitched forward as if diving away from a blast of lightning, and a yell ripped past his teeth before he could stop himself. Atiaran came back to him at a run, and found him pawing over the grass, tearing up the blades in handfuls of outrage.
“Here!” he gritted, thumping the turf with his fist. “By hell! It was here.”
Atiaran blinked at him blankly. He jumped to his feet, pointed an accusing finger at the ground. “Didn't you feel it? It was there. Hellfire!” His finger quivered. “How did you miss it?”
“I felt nothing,” she replied evenly.
He shuddered and dropped his hand. “It felt as if I-as if I stepped in quicksand-or acid-or”- he remembered
