Fatal Revenant

fingers. Their heavy jaws may have been capable of chewing stone. The ruddy heat of the Earth’s depths filled their eyes like molten granite.

Roger Covenant had brought at least two hundred Cavewights with him, ready for battle. They wore crude armour fashioned from thick plates of stone lashed together. And they were all armed. Some bore spears and bludgeons: others hefted hacking broadswords as brutal as claymores.

Linden had expected the skurj, not Roger and Cavewights. But she had told him that she planned to head for Andelain. He could assume that she would essay the most direct route from Revelstone. Certainly he had had plenty of time to position his forces. And Kastenessen had touched Anele: the Elohim knew precisely where she was.

Like Esmer, Roger meant to block the Harrow’s intentions. If Covenant’s son-and therefore Kastenessen-had wished only to prevent her from reaching Andelain, he would not have come when other powers might defend her.

The skurj might not be far behind-

Linden’s flame rose higher, leaping into the heavens.

As if on command, Hrama and Naharahn brought Anele and Pahni close to Linden. Liand was pushed toward her as Stave and the Humbled quickly formed a cordon around the most vulnerable members of their company. At the same time, Mahrtiir and Bhapa charged at Roger and the Cavewights, two against two hundred-

In the distance, the Woodhelvennin watched the onset of battle. The Masters among them may have urged them to flee. If so, they paid no heed.

Desperately Linden prepared a scourge of fire. But she could not choose a target: she was torn between her rage at Roger and her frantic desire to protect the Ramen.

Narunal and Whrany pounded toward the army. The Cavewights responded with a cacophonous shriek. From Roger’s right hand came a spew of hot theurgy like a bolt of fluid stone. It would have slain the two Ranyhyn and their riders instantly; should have slain them. Yet Narunal and Whrany veered aside, supernally swift, as if they had foreseen Roger’s attack. His blast hit the ground, sending an eruption of flint and shale into the air, charring the dirt as if the soil were leaves and twigs. It did not touch flesh.

A heartbeat later, the Manethrall and his Cord sprang from their mounts with their garrotes ready. They leapt past two of the leading Cavewights; wrapped their weapons around the Cavewights’ necks as they passed. Their momentum jerked the cords taut. Then they stood on the backs of the creatures, using the strength of their legs to strangle the Cavewights.

Mahrtiir’s opponent reached up with both hands to snatch the Manethrall from its back. But before the long fingers found Mahrtiir, Narunal reared, slamming his hooves into the creature’s chest. As the Cavewight toppled backward, its neck snapped. Mahrtiir dropped to the ground, unscathed amid an enraged throng of creatures.

Whrany endeavoured to give Bhapa similar aid, but the vicious thrust of another Cavewight’s spear forced the Ranyhyn to dance aside. Then Whrany whinnied sharply: a warning. As the creature that Bhapa was trying to throttle grabbed for him, the Cord released his grip and jumped toward his mount-and a bludgeon which would have crushed him struck the Cavewight’s skull instead.

Now Linden burned to defend the Ramen. Mahrtiir was about to be trampled: a spear would spit Bhapa if a swinging broadsword did not catch Whrany first. But Roger had already mustered another quarrel of magma. If she did not strike at him-

“Linden!” Liand yelled.

Instantly she was surrounded by flaring powers and combat.

Behind her, the ur-viles and Waynhim had rearranged themselves into three wedges. One hurled a lurid splash of vitriol at the Harrow. Another struck Esmer with concussions like the spasms of an earthquake. And from the third, a volley of blackness roared over Linden’s head to fall, howling, toward Roger. He was compelled to redirect his blast so that he would not be incinerated.

The Harrow seemed momentarily surprised by his danger. Wherever he was struck, his chlamys, doublet, and leggings caught fire. But with one hand he swept the flames away: with the other he rubbed his beads in an intricate pattern. Then he began to gesture urgently, muttering incantations.

No more acid touched him, although the loremaster’s wedge assailed him furiously, barking like maddened dogs. Instead the corrosive fluid evaporated before it could bite into him.

Behind the loremaster, ur-viles began to drop one by one, sagging into themselves as though they were being eaten alive by their own lore.

Esmer stood upright to meet the concussive assault, and his eyes gleamed like the glare of lightning on the waves of a bitter sea. He made no effort to defend himself. Rather he accepted each crash and detonation, although they shook him as if they struck his bones. In spite of his obvious pain, he ignored the wedge attacking him.

As he had in the Verge of Wandering, and again on Revelstone’s plateau, he caused the ground to erupt like water into spouts and squalls. Dirt and broken stone became little hurricanes which swirled upward as if they had been spewed forth by the earth. Waving his arms, he sent towering geysers, not against his assailants, but toward the Harrow.

The Harrow had said that he could step aside from Esmer’s power; yet he did not. He may have been snared by the force of the ur-viles- or by the imminent threat of Roger’s might.

Linden felt the Cavewights rushing at her. Instinctively she turned Earthpower on them, whirling the Staff around her head to flail the creatures with flame. The Cavewights wielded no magic except their own strength and weapons: alone, they were no match for the ur-viles and Waynhim. But the Demondim-spawn were fighting three other antagonists at once. They had no theurgy to spare for the Cavewights.

In one place, the charge of the Cavewights was occluded by the Ramen and their Ranyhyn. From the ground, Mahrtiir dodged blows and kicks, avoided stamping feet. At the same time, he contrived to trip creatures with his garrote. In the confusion, Cavewights trying to slash or gut him often hit each other instead. And Narunal reared to his full height, lashing out powerfully with his hooves. Meanwhile Bhapa had urged Whrany among the creatures around Mahrtiir. Whrany delivered kicks with uncanny accuracy as Bhapa sprang away. The Raman wrapped his cord around a broadsword-wielding Cavewight’s arm and used his own weight and the creature’s fury to redirect the blade so that it cut at other attackers.

The efforts of the Ramen and their mounts slowed one small section of the charge, leaving Linden free to fling fire and desperation at nearer foes. She could strike there without endangering her friends.

Yet a dissociated reluctance hampered her. Surely she was still a healer? Surely she still loathed war and killing? But she had found new aspects of herself on Gallows Howe; had become a woman whom she hardly knew: she yearned to repay with death the affront of her foes. Images of the croyel feasting on her son’s neck demanded recompense.

Her own eagerness for bloodshed dismayed her. Apart from their sheer numbers, the Cavewights had no defence against the power of her Staff. She could slaughter them too easily. In spite of her companions’ peril, she unleashed only a portion of her full strength. She ached to fling it at Roger rather than at the brute rampage of the creatures.

Nevertheless she fought. Mahrtiir and Bhapa might be slain in moments. Already the Ranyhyn bled from several wounds, and both Ramen had been hurt. They needed her; needed more violence from her than she knew how to countenance. She could not save the Ramen unless she overcame her chagrin.

If Roger struck at her now-

Liand might be able to defend himself with the orcrest, perhaps by blinding a few assailants. Pahni might find some way to keep Anele alive briefly. But they would not survive for long.

“Stave!” Linden panted. “Stave.” But it was Branl and Galt who answered her.

Leaving their Ranyhyn behind to aid in the last defence, the two Humbled sprinted on foot toward the chaos clustered around Mahrtiir and Bhapa. They seemed as mighty as Giants as they hammered into the fray. With heavy punches and iron kicks and slashing elbows, they attacked the knees of the Cavewights. And when the creatures fell, squealing in pain, Galt and Branl battered their throats.

Igniting creatures until they burned like torches, Linden tried to see what happened to the Humbled and the Ramen. But the rest of Roger’s army continued to surge toward her, and she could not afford to let her concentration slip.