Fatal Revenant

When Thomas Covenant had summoned Nom against the Clave, the Sandgorgon had taken some time to respond. The creature had been compelled to cross nameless oceans and uncounted leagues from Bhrathairealm and the Great Desert. If the same delay occurred now-assuming that Nom answered Linden at all-every human and horse in the valley, and perhaps every Demondim-spawn as well, would be dead before the creature appeared. Nevertheless she did not turn aside or look back. The straits of the Woodhelvennin drove her. For their sake, and to confront moksha, she could resolve the contradictions within her. With Law and Earthpower, she opened a passage through the battle. At Hyn’s best speed, she raced northward.

She did not see the Harrow blanch as if he were appalled at what she had done. She only heard him call wildly. “I am able to convey you to your son!”

He may have intended to break her heart.

Still she did not falter. She could not: at that moment, the need of the villagers outweighed every other consideration. Even her friends-Concentrating on the kresh, she felt rather than saw the Insequent allow his defences to collapse. Only her nerves recognised what was happening as he wrapped himself and his destrier in a different kind of knowledge and vanished.

Deprived of his immediate target, Roger gave a howl of rage. But he had other prey: he, too, did not pause. Whirling, he aimed lava and loathing at Linden’s back.

She did not care. He had become incidental to her; a mere annoyance. At that moment, Gallows Howe and Caerroil Wildwood were incarnate in her. Like the Forestal, she had precious lives to defend. She only needed the Woodhelvennin to make way for her. If they did not-if they impeded her charge-

The kresh and the Raver were almost upon them.

Roger’s first blast fell short, intercepted by roiling blackness: the ur-viles and Waynhim had adjusted swiftly to counter him. A heartbeat later, he was attacked by half or more of the surviving Demondim-spawn. The rest threw their lore against the Cavewights in an attempt to prevent Roger’s army from following Linden.

But he was ecstatic with Kastenessen’s power. In this time, his given hand could draw directly on its source: Kastenessen’s savagery exalted him. The concussions and vitriol of his attackers he slammed aside with scornful ease. And his efforts to strike at Linden coerced them to spend their force in her defence rather than against him.

Then the Demondim-spawn themselves were assailed. In spite of his injuries and weakness, Esmer sent shocks through the ground to disrupt the formations of the Waynhim and ur-viles. He slew none of them; but his interference exposed them to the cruder force of the Cavewights. While Roger aimed his viciousness at Linden, his creatures hacked brutally at her defenders.

Almost screaming, Linden shouted the Seven Words until her Staff shone like an avatar of the sun’s fire. Frantic men and women dashed out of her path, snatching their children after them. Pahni’s young voice in a Ramen war-cry echoed the brilliance of Liand’s orcrest. Stave’s implacable mien promised death. Anele had awakened; but with the caesure gone, he clung to Hrama’s neck and did not hinder the Ranyhyn or his friends.

The huge fierce wolves had already begun to tear down and rend the slowest of the villagers when Linden and her last companions crashed into the pack.

The Cavewights were thinking creatures: the kresh were not. The Raver was worse than any beast or creature. And the Woodhelvennin were as helpless as trees. They had children with them, children, and could not defend themselves. As if she had become mindless herself, she sent great waves and breakers of flame at the wolves, burning them by the score to misshapen lumps of flesh, charred and reeking.

But she barely saw individual kresh: she paid no attention to what became of them. She sought moksha Jehannum. If she could do it, she meant to light a conflagration that would end the Raver’s cruelty forever.

Roger might have killed her then. She had no desire to defend herself-and no power to spare. In addition, Esmer had broken apart the wedges of the Demondim-spawn. Most of the ur-viles and Waynhim were fighting for their lives in small clusters: only a few remained to oppose Roger’s scoria. While she rampaged among the kresh, she left herself as vulnerable as the villagers.

But Roger did not send his puissance against her. He could not. Before he could hurl another blast, half a dozen Sandgorgons smashed into the rear of his army.

Crushing Cavewights with ease, three of the Sandgorgons wrought havoc among Roger’s forces while the rest attacked him directly.

Their strength dwarfed that of the Cavewights. Alone, Nom had once shattered Revelstone’s inner gates; had gouged out a passage for Glimmermere’s waters to quench the last of the Banefire. With Grimmand Honninscrave’s help, Nom had shredded samadhi Sheol’s spirit. Given time, half a dozen Sandgorgons could have levelled Lord’s Keep entirely.

The weapons and desperation of the Cavewights could not wound them. The ur-viles and Waynhim scattered before them. And Esmer did not turn his power against them. Instead he quelled his spouts of dirt and stone, his tremors in the ground, as if he had acknowledged defeat-or achieved victory. Panting blood, he seemed to fold the air around him as he disappeared.

Roger would have been beaten to pulp if he had not turned all of his scoria and wrath against the Sandgorgons. Their blunt arms and pulverising might would have left no recognisable remains of his ordinary flesh.

Moksha Jehannum lashed the kresh to frothing madness; but the Raver eluded Linden. It was here and there throughout the pack, mastering the wolves, transmuting their natural fear of fire into ferocity. She feared that moksha would attempt to escape her by possessing one of the Woodhelvennin, forcing her to slay an innocent victim if she wished to harm the Raver. Therefore she wielded her fire like devastation, taking care only that she did not harm any human or Haruchai or Ranyhyn.

On one side of her, the brightness of Liand’s Sunstone dazzled the kresh so that they gnashed and tore at each other blindly. On the other, Stave rode Hynyn and let the roan stallion fight for him while he watched over Linden. Behind them, Pahni clung to Anele with one hand, supporting him, keeping him close to her, while she used her garrote to whip away any wolf that sprang for Hrama or Naharahn.

Suddenly Stave reached down to snatch a Master out of a raging mass of wolves. Hynyn hammered with his hooves at the skulls and spines of kresh as Stave swung the Haruchai up behind him. The Master was badly rent, bleeding from many grim bites and gouges; but as soon as he settled himself against Stave’s back, he kicked at every wolf that came within reach.

Of the other Master, Linden saw no sign. She did not know if Mahrtiir, Bhapa, the Humbled, or any of their mounts remained alive. But the villagers were behind her now, and she did not permit any kind of fear to inhibit her scouring flame.

Nevertheless, on some subcutaneous level of perception, she recognised that the Cavewights were being decimated. She felt them break as they died, shattered by the tremendous force of the Sandgorgons. And she sensed the precise instant when Roger’s rage and frustration turned to terror. He burned the Sandgorgons until their hides bubbled and the bubbles burst, spilling viscid blood that stank of dire vitality; but he could not stop them.

He was about to meet the same doom which had fallen on his army: Linden knew that. But she did not pause to watch him fight for his life. She was too busy killing. Too busy searching for the Raver so that she could at least try to unmake Lord Foul’s ancient servant.

And she was nearing the outermost limits of her own endurance.

Gradually she began to flicker and fail. Consumed by the struggle to keep going-to seek moksha Jehannum with percipience and fire-she did not see Roger call the few remaining Cavewights to him, leap onto one of their backs, and send them racing eastward away from the Sandgorgons.

With their long legs and their peculiar strength, the Cavewights ran as if they were as fleet as Ranyhyn. Perhaps the Sandgorgons could have caught them: the denizens of the Great Desert were also swift. But Roger had hurt all of the Sandgorgons to some extent. And he flung a terrible heat behind him as the Cavewights fled. The