Fatal Revenant

unforeseen wonder might have occurred. And if it did not, still their glory would have surpassed their failure.”

“I know,” Linden murmured: a dying fall of sound. “The world is full of Kastenessens and Rogers.” Esmers and Joans, croyel and Cavewights. “Lord Foul is everywhere. But there are still people like Liand.” And the Mahdoubt. “Stave is on our side. The ur-viles have changed. Even the Sandgorgons-” In spite of samadhi Raver’s shredded malignance, they had retained enough gratitude to answer her. “I’ll try anything to save Jeremiah.”

She meant her assertion as a warning, but she lacked the courage to speak more clearly. She was afraid that Mahrtiir-that all of her friends-would attempt to stop her.

As matters stood, she did not know the difference between the Manethrall’s advice and the counsels of despair.

To her relief, Liand did not take long to cleanse the senses of those Woodhelvennin who desired his gift. Although his efforts left his skin pale with weariness, and he wavered on Rhohm’s back, breathing raggedly, he was still able to ride. When he swayed too far, Pahni steadied him.

Now none of Linden’s companions urged caution. The time had come for haste. She needed it; and the villagers would be safer when she was far from them. Her friends delayed only to consider the pane of slate which had protected Anele.

Clyme asserted his willingness to carry it-or to make the attempt-regardless of his hurts and renewed bleeding. But Linden shook her head. “It’s too heavy,” she stated as though she had the authority to command the Humbled. “It’ll get in your way if were attacked again. We’ll try blankets. Five or six of them might be enough to block Kastenessen.”

For a moment, the Masters appeared to debate their responsibilities. Then Clyme abandoned the slate.

At a word from the Heers, grateful villagers hurried to gather blankets, which they tied into a roll and handed to Pahni.

With difficulty, Linden held back her impatience as Karnis and Quilla endeavoured to express their thanks for all that she and her companions had done. But the Heers were among those who had been blessed or afflicted with percipience: they could see how she felt. Seeming flustered by her frustration, they cut short what they wished to say.

On Linden’s behalf, and Liand’s, Manethrall Mahrtiir responded to the Heers; but he spoke curtly. “It is sooth that Liand of Mithil Stonedown has granted no gentle gift. Also it is sooth that neither kresh nor Cavewights would have assailed you in our absence. Our aid is small recompense for the harm which we have brought among you.

“The Master Vernigil will guide you. While it endures, your new sight will serve you well. May you fare in safety. Beyond question, you will fare more safely for our departure.”

At last, Linden and her companions turned away, leaving silence and uncertainty behind them. With Mahrtiir beside her, Pahni, Liand, and Anele following, and Stave in the rear, she rode after Bhapa and the Humbled at a brisk canter which Hyn and the other Ranyhyn soon stretched into a rolling gallop.

For a time, they traversed rough hills of flint and shale. But then stones and scant dirt gave way to better soil as more streams traced their crooked paths across the landscape; and the riders began to encounter occasional clusters of aliantha. Linden called a halt at the first of these so that Liand could restore his depleted strength.

When she dismounted to join him, she noticed the marks of other hooves. To her questioning glance, Pahni replied that the Humbled and Bhapa had paused here as well.

Privately Linden hoped that the Masters were not too proud to avail themselves of treasure-berries. They were in no condition to face another conflict. They needed as much sustenance as their stubbornness could accept.

“To this place,” Pahni added, studying the ground, “they rode together. Now, however, they have separated. Mhornym and Rohnhyn continue southeastward, but Bhanoryl’s path lies to the east, and Naybahn has turned to the south. Doubtless they will guard our passage at the farthest extent of their senses.”

Linden nodded. Remembering Cail and Brinn, Ceer and Hergrom, she trusted the Humbled to protect her company as well as they could.

When Liand had eaten a handful of aliantha, and had recovered enough to whisper something playful that made Pahni smile and duck her head, Linden and her friends remounted. Together the Ranyhyn resumed their run, devouring the distance at a long gallop.

Before noon, the hills faded into a wide plain like a steppe lambent with grasses and bright wildflowers. Birds scattered in waves before the rush of the riders, the muffled rumble of hooves. At intervals, Linden and her companions passed a small stand of wattle or scrub oak; splashed through a rambling stream or sprang over a sun-spangled rill; swept down into a shallow swale and flowed up the far side. But such features were few. Between them, the plain unfurled itself to the horizons as if the earth had opened its heart to the sun. There the Ranyhyn seemed to run effortlessly, buoyed by the grass and the vast sky as if they were born to revel in grasslands and illimitable vistas.

For a while, Linden caught no glimpse of the Humbled and Bhapa. Under the midday sun, however, she eventually saw Clyme waiting ahead of her. Apparently he had decided that the time had come to rest the Ranyhyn while their riders ate a quick meal.

His bleeding had stopped. Aided, perhaps, by treasure-berries, his native toughness had reasserted itself. Even while he rode, his wounds healed slowly.

Before Pahni and Liand allowed Anele to dismount, Linden took a moment to study the grass. All around her, many varieties grew together. Some resembled the lush wealth of the Verge of Wandering. But among more luxuriant greens were streaks and swaths of the raw-edged scrub grass which covered the hills and slopes of the Mithil valley: the grass on which the old man was vulnerable to Lord Foul.

Here Anele needed protection.

Instead of insisting that he remain on Hrama, she decided to test the effectiveness of the blankets. At her request, Pahni unrolled the thick pad and guided Anele onto it from Hrama’s back.

Warded by wool, the old man showed no sign of possession. His fractured muttering was disturbed only by his discomfort at Clyme’s nearness.

The horizons remained clear. When Linden questioned Clyme, he reported no indication of danger. He and Bhapa had found evidence of Roger’s army’s trek toward First Woodhelven. For a time, Galt had been able to track Roger and his remaining Cavewights eastward. But nothing stirred to threaten the riders-unless it was concealed by the glamour which had enabled Roger’s forces to take Linden’s company by surprise.

She might have felt relief. Perhaps she should have. Apparently Roger was indeed reduced without the aid and knowledge of the croyel. Alone, he could not simply bypass time or space: he was forced to travel by more ordinary means.

But his limitations confirmed that he had set out to intercept her several days before Kastenessen had touched Anele. Conceivably Roger had begun to lead his army westward as soon as he and Jeremiah had returned to their proper time. Kastenessen may have precipitated Roger’s attack; but Roger and his forces must have already been poised to strike. Hidden by glamour- extending as it does to conceal so many- he must have been waiting for her along her most direct route toward Andelain.

She had told him what her intentions were; forewarned him-

Nevertheless he had lost too many Cavewights to challenge her again soon. He knew her power. He knew that scores of ur-viles and Waynhim remained willing to serve her. And he no longer had the support of the croyel. He would need time to rally more of Kastenessen’s-or Lord Foul’s-allies.

Therefore-Linden swore under her breath. Therefore the next attack would probably come from the skurj.

In spite of everything that she had learned and suffered, she was inadequate to her task. If she were wiser, or stronger, or calmer-When the battle ended yesterday, she should have tried to catch Roger while he was still within reach, and vulnerable. That might have forced Kastenessen to hesitate. But she had been consumed by desperation and killing; exhaustion and remorse. She had missed her chance. Now she could only hope to outrun the maddened Elohim’s malice.

When she and her companions were mounted, ready to ride, she described her concerns. Then she told Clyme, “We’ll need as much warning as possible. You and Bhapa have to be able to ride as far and as fast as you