Fatal Revenant

derangement. As by accretion, he acquired the authority of Earth-Sight.”

Coldspray nodded. “Soon the Bhrathair grew fearful of his violence. They hastened the making of his shackles. And when he was bound in iron, we thought him helpless at last. His bonds he could not break. While we watched over him, he remained passive. Therefore we attempted to complete our promised service. By increments, the Swordmainnir became complacent. I became complacent. Trusting iron, we joined the Giants of Dire’s Vessel in our agreed labours.

“However, we were indeed fools, as he had named us. During our absence from his donjon, he escaped his bonds, leaving them unopened and undamaged.”

Joan, Linden thought. Oh, God. For weeks, Covenant’s ex-wife had slipped repeatedly, impossibly, out of her restraints.

“And now he eluded us,” Coldspray stated grimly. “We found no sign of him, neither at the harbour nor aboard any ship, nor along the length of the Sandwall. We discovered only that he had breached the armoury of the Sandhold, beating aside its sentries to claim a sword. Thereafter it appeared to us that he had disappeared into the sea, as the Sandgorgons had done.

“When all our searching had proven fruitless, we elected to depart, thinking Longwrath lost and our purpose unmade. Approval was granted without demur, for the Bhrathair had learned to consider our presence costly. As the Harbour Captain escorted us aboard Dire’s Vessel, however, we found Longwrath there before us, though earlier we had sought him assiduously. He stood like a heading near the prow of the dromond with his new blade sheathed at his back. And he did not resist when we affixed his shackles. Yet he struggled frantically when we strove to move him from his place. When we attempted merely to withdraw his sword, he fell into frothing frenzy. Therefore we left him as he was, bound and armed and calmed, with his gaze fixed before him.

“Ere we set sail, the Harbour Captain informed us that Longwrath faced in the direction taken by the Sandgorgons.”

Of course, Linden sighed, bleak in the darkness. Of course. Hugging her Staff, she faced Rime Coldspray and tried to contain her apprehension. Lord Foul was calling in his allies.

Joan had become calmer, if not more reactive or accessible, when Linden had “armed” her by returning her ring.

“Linden Avery,” the Ironhand said with regret, “we were entirely mystified-and felt entirely witless. Though Earth-Sight occurs seldom among us, it has never taken the form of murderous rage. Yet we had failed to manage our charge. We had failed dramatically. Indeed, we could not in good sooth name him our prisoner, for his madness or his theurgy had exceeded us.

“Therefore we took counsel together, the Swordmainnir and the Giants of Dire’s Vessel. After much debate, we determined to put aside our opposition for a time. While we could, we would set our sails to the heading of Longwrath’s desire. Thereby we hoped to learn the meaning of his madness.

“Thus Lostson Longwrath became our lodestone.

“The season was now winter,” Coldspray explained as if she spoke for the gravid dark. “In those seas, the gales of winter possess a legendary virulence. Yet we were neither beset nor becalmed. Guided by Longwrath’s gaze, we encountered naught but favourable winds and kind passage. The shackles did not fall from his limbs. While he retained his sword, he accepted food and care, and offered no harm. And soon it became clear to even our crudest reckonings that his face was turned toward the Land.”

Liand and Pahni held each other with growing comprehension in their faces. Bhapa sat with his head lowered and his eyes covered as if he endeavoured to emulate Mahrtiir’s blindness. The Manethrall gripped himself fiercely. Only Stave remained unmoved.

Acknowledging the reactions of her audience, Coldspray said, “Then did we truly question the wisdom of our course. That we were unwelcome in the Land we knew, but the attitude of the Masters did not alarm us. For centuries, they have proffered only discouragement, not resistance. No, our concern was this. If indeed we traced the path of the Sandgorgons, as the Harbour Captain had suggested, we feared that a grave peril gripped the Land, and that we fared toward havoc which we were too few to oppose.

“Thus among us the words “slay” and her and “fools” gained new import.”

She sighed. “And as winter became spring, we found new cause to debate our course, for it grew evident that Longwrath directed Dire’s Vessel toward the noisome banes of Lifeswallower, the Great Swamp. There we were unwilling to follow his rapt gaze. The foulness of Lifeswallower dismayed our senses. Also we remembered the tales of the Search, which warned of the lurker of the Sarangrave, and of the lurker’s servants, the corrosive skest.

“Therefore we turned aside from Longwrath’s hunger. Sailing northward along the littoral of the Land, we sought a safer harbourage in The Grieve of the Unhomed.

“We did not doubt our choice,” Coldspray stated in sadness and defiance. “We do not question it now. Yet we learned at once that the ease of our voyage was ended. Contrary and unseasonable winds opposed our course, compelling us to beat ceaselessly against them. And Longwrath emerged from his quiescence to rave and struggle. Had we permitted it, he would have hurled himself, iron-bound, into the sea. No less than three Swordmainnir were needed to restrain him-and five if we touched his blade. Yet we were also required among the sheets and canvas, for Dire’s Vessel was sorely tried, and every element conspired to thwart us.

“Still we are Giants, not readily daunted. Our race has striven with sea and wind for millennia. We ourselves had endured the travail of the Soulbiter. We persisted, exerting our skill and strength to their utmost. At last, we gained anchorage in Coercri, ancient and ruined, The Grieve of the Unhomed.”

The Ironhand paused as if to acknowledge what she and her comrades had accomplished. When Coldspray fell silent, however, Linden’s attention drifted. She remembered too much. In Coercri, Covenant had given a caamora to the Dead of the Unhomed. She needed him. And she did not have to hear the rest of the Swordmain’s story to know where it was going.

She had been warned often enough-

After a moment, Coldspray resumed, “There we deemed that we might rest. We wished to mourn for our lost kindred. And some of their dwellings remained habitable, defying long centuries of storm and disuse. But as we slumbered, believing Longwrath secure, he slipped again from his unopened shackles and fled.

“When his escape was discovered, we held a last, foreshortened Giantclave. We elected to separate, the Swordmainnir pursuing Longwrath while our friends and kin preserved Dire’s Vessel for our future need.

“At another time”- Rime Coldspray looked in turn at each of her smaller companions- “tales will be made of our urgent, maddened, and maddening chase. Few Giants have crossed so many leagues so swiftly, for we ran and ran, and still we ran. Traversing Seareach southwestward, we skirted the foothills of the Northron Climbs to pass through Giant Woods and enter the perils of Sarangrave Flat. There, however, we scented faintly the ancient evil of the lurker. While we were compelled to caution, Longwrath continued to elude us. Yet he made no secret of his path. When every hint of the lurker had fallen behind us, we were able to gain ground in spite of our weariness.

“Finally we caught him, for we are more fleet than he.” Again she sighed. “At the foot of Landsdrop, we shackled him once more. And for a handful of days thereafter, he ceased his escapes. Perhaps because we followed the path of his madness, or mayhap because the ascent of Landsdrop and the obstructions of this woodland hindered him, he permitted us to remain his captors. Thus we were granted a measure of rest.

“Yet our fear increased, for now when he spoke of “slay” and “her” and “fools”, we heard eagerness as well as fury. By this sign, he revealed that he drew ever nearer to the object of his wish for murder.”

“Indeed,” murmured Onyx Stonemage. “I am a Swordmain and deem myself valorous. Yet I knew such dread at his pronouncements that I am shamed by it.”

At Stonemage’s side, Stormpast Galesend nodded. “Though he uttered only, “Slay her”, and “Are you fools?” his enflamed and avid vehemence prophesied ruin as much as death.”

Touched by an ire of her own, Coldspray said in a voice of metal, “It was then that we first encountered the were-menhirs, which you name skurj. They were two, and they did not threaten us. Indeed, they appeared ignorant of our presence. We might have passed by in safety, as Longwrath clearly wished.

“Yet when we had witnessed their devouring of this great wood, their carnage and savagery, we could not refrain from combat. We are Giants and Swordmainnir, and our love for the living world is not limited to stone and