Fatal Revenant

seldom enthrall. And joy is in the ears that hear, not in the mouth that speaks. Already you have supplied our most exigent need. You have allowed us to see that our seemingly lost and aimless voyages in Longwrath’s name are but the prelude to a far larger tale.

“Linden Avery,” she proclaimed while her comrades went on laughing, “it is enough. Seeking the import of our many labours, we will accompany you. If Stave of the Haruchai stands at your side, joined by the courteous and considerate Ramen-and likewise this wide-eyed Stonedownor and the anguished son of Sunder and Hollian-the Swordmainnir can do no less. Indeed, I name you Giantfriend, both for your known love toward the Giants of the Search, and in token of our own esteem.

“I have spoken.” Chuckling again, she asked, “Does our doubt content you? Will you now accept our comradeship, come good or ill, joy or woe?”

At Coldspray’s words, some of the fear lifted from Linden’s heart. Although she could not laugh, she smiled warmly. “Thank you. The First and Pitchwife would be so proud-” The Giants may have had few children-too few-but they bred true. That was their birthright. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s happened to us since we left Revelstone.”

Her voice broke as she finished. “God, I’ve missed you.”

She believed now that none of her many enemies would be able to prevent her from reaching the Hills of Andelain.

Chapter Ten: Struggles over Wild Magic

During the remainder of that night, Linden slept little. Her story was strange to the Swordmainnir: it raised more issues than it explained. Although they expressed concern for the weariness of their new companions, the Giants needed to talk.

They asked nothing more about Linden’s intentions. For a while, they discussed the actions of the Sandgorgons, pondering what those creatures would do now that they had satisfied their ancient “gratitude.” Then, with elaborate delicacy, Rime Coldspray indicated the bullet hole in Linden’s shirt and inquired about the relationship between death in her former world and life in the Land.

Linden could not explain it: she could only relate what she had experienced. Like the lightning which had taken Joan, bullets were too violent for doubt. Therefore Linden could only assume that she, Jeremiah, and Roger had perished in the instant of their passage to the Land. In some sense, their presence here was permanent: they would endure until they were slain.

She had seen her son’s wounds, and Roger’s; but she did not want to remember them.

Clearing his throat, Mahrtiir turned toward Stave. Softly, as if he were prompting the Haruchai, he said. “There are tales better known to the Bloodguard-”

Stave nodded. To Coldspray, he said, “Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever was not the only man of the Chosen’s world summoned to the Land. In the time of the new Lords, when Elena daughter of Lena was High Lord of the Council, a man named Hile Troy appeared, invoked by Atiaran Trell-mate. He it was who led the Warward into Garroting Deep, bartering his soul to Caerroil Wildwood in exchange for the ruin of moksha Fleshharrower’s forces. Thus he ceased to be himself, for he was transformed, becoming Caer-Caveral, the last Forestal. For more than three millennia thereafter, he endured as the guardian of Andelain.”

In spite of her fatigue, Linden listened closely. Long ago, Covenant had told her about Hile Troy and Caer- Caveral; but Stave offered details which were new to her.

“The First of the Search and Pitchwife were present,” remarked Coldspray. “We know their tale. If we understand events aright, Caer-Caveral’s final sacrifice did much to enable Covenant Giantfriend’s victory over the Despiser.”

Stave shrugged. It may be so. The Masters and all Haruchai distrust violations of Law. We are not persuaded that the ur-Lord would have failed to achieve his victory by some other means if the Law of Life had remained unmarred.

“However, it is of Hile Troy that I would speak, rather than of Caer-Caveral.”

The Manethrall murmured his approval. Liand and the Cords listened as they had since the tales began, rapt and troubled.

With his usual flatness, Stave said, She who invoked him, Atiaran Trell-mate, perished when she had completed his summons. By the common understanding of the Lords, the death of the summoner ended the summons. So it transpired three times for the ur-Lord, the Unbeliever. Yet when Atiaran Trell-mate died in fire, Hile Troy remained.

“The Council of Lords believed that his summons was not undone because in his own world his death preceded that of his summoner. Therefore his spirit could not return to its former life, and his place in the Land was fixed.

“I cannot know if Hile Troy’s example is pertinent to the plight of the Chosen and her son. Their summoner yet lives, though she is tormented and possessed.

“Nonetheless,” the Haruchai stated with an air of increased concentration. “there is hope in Hile Troy’s tale. The woman Joan wields wild magic. With High Lord Loric’s krill, the Chosen may be able to confront her, and yet remain among us. If so, the Land will be spared much, and perhaps Linden Avery’s son also.”

The Giants considered Stave’s assertion for a long moment. Then their leader chuckled grimly.

“You are cunning as well as valorous, Stave of the Haruchai. Indirectly you seek to allay both our doubts and those of the Humbled. At another time, perchance, my comrades and I will applaud your service to Linden Giantfriend. For the present, however, we can do no more than acknowledge that the magicks which rule the passage between worlds lie beyond our comprehension.”

The Ironhand’s expression tightened as she continued. “Of other foes and powers, we know only that they do not appear to threaten us here. But the peril of Kastenessen and his skurj is immediate and urgent. If Linden Giantfriend seeks the krill, Kastenessen must oppose her. And I do not doubt that he will strike with all the ferocity he may command.”

He hasn’t brought very many of them down from the north yet. But he can get more whenever he wants them. Roger had lied about any number of things-but occasionally he had told the truth.

A score of those monsters would devour Linden’s entire company as easily as breathing.

“By my reckoning,” said Coldspray. “Andelain lies perhaps eight or nine leagues distant. But we cannot know whether Andelain has been overrun with skurj. If the krill has been neither taken nor unmade, it stands beyond the Soulsease. And Salva Gildenbourne’s abundance hinders us. I foresee frantic battle and desperate flight ere we may hope to approach our goal.”

And while the company fought, Longwrath would strive for Linden’s death. Two or three Giants would have to guard him at all times, regardless of the scale of Kastenessen’s attacks.

“Linden Avery,” the Ironhand pronounced formally. “Chosen and Giantfriend, you have spoken of white gold. We have no other clear hope. If we cannot trust to the Staff of Law, then only wild magic may preserve us.”

Linden felt the focused attention of the Giants. Even Longwrath paused to listen. While her friends watched, she reached under her shirt and drew Covenant’s ring into the firelight.

Trying to be precise, she said, “It isn’t literally true that Covenant gave this to me, but it’s probably fair to say that he left it for me. I’ve certainly claimed it.” And used it. “You might think that I already have enough power to accomplish almost anything. God knows I’ve astonished myself-” She still did not understand how she had saved herself and Anele from the collapse of Kevin’s Watch. “But it doesn’t come easily. I have to work hard for it.

“Maybe I’m afraid of it.” Covenant had taught her that wild magic tended to surge out of control; that with each use it grew more rampant and ungovernable. “Or maybe I don’t really have the right to wield it.” According to Roger, only the person to whom white gold truly belonged could call forth its full strength. “All I know is that I can’t chance it when I’m holding the Staff. Apparently Law and wild magic are antithetical.”