Fatal Revenant

Kindwind’s arm was the most urgent of their wounds, but their hurts were many. Galesend had been nearly hamstrung by raking fangs. Coldspray, Cabledarm, and Stonemage bled from gashes like latticework on their arms and legs. And one of Longwrath’s guards wore fractured bones in her cheek: he must have struck her when he broke free to pursue Linden. Only Grueburn and the Swordmain who aided Coldspray with Longwrath’s unconscious bulk had avoided serious harm.

In addition, the Humbled, the Ramen, Stave, Liand, and Anele had all been burned by splashes of gore. Among Linden’s original companions, she alone had escaped any physical hurt. Her injuries were more spiritual, and she had borne them longer.

As soon as the Giants stopped, she withdrew her scourge of Earthpower from the thunderheads. Gritting her teeth against her fear of the skurj, she transformed her fire to more gentle flames and spread them over her friends. Rapidly she sealed Kindwind’s severed arm; stopped the bleeding of the Giants; sent a quick wash of Law and balm to soothe the Ramen, Liand, and Stave. But she did not offend the Humbled by offering to ease them. And she did not risk triggering Anele’s self-imposed defences. She already knew how fiercely he would fight against healing and sanity.

Then the company ran again, dragging Longwrath with them. None of them knew when the skurj would attack again, and Liand’s storm clouds were beginning to scatter.

Grueburn’s arms seemed as certain as the Earth’s bones. The senses of the Haruchai were preternaturally acute, and the Giants could see far. Surely they would know it when Kastenessen rallied his monsters?

The skurj had vindicated Linden’s visions during her translation to the Land. If Lord Foul kept his promises, she would eventually have to face the Worm of the World’s End.

In spite of her dreads, however, her efforts with the Staff had drained her. Fatigue blurred her attention for a time. Like the torrents which she had left behind, she frayed and drifted until only Jeremiah remained. Her son and Covenant.

Within the Andelainian Hills, Loric’s krill summoned her like a beacon.

Esmer had not rescued her or her companions. But the lodestone of his presence had drawn the Demondim spawn. And he had answered some of her questions.

Aid and betrayal.

Her foes were right to fear her.

Slowly Liand regained consciousness, although he rested with his eyes closed in Stonemage’s embrace. The Humbled had already scattered to search for signs of pursuit behind or snares ahead. Mahrtiir watched over the company fervidly without his eyes. Alert for threats, Stave sped a few paces ahead of Grueburn.

Later the sound of Grueburn’s stertorous breathing began to trouble Linden. The Giants had been under too much strain for too long. Their reserves of stamina were wearing thin. And they had lost two of their comrades. They needed to grieve.

But ahead of her, Salva Gildenbourne relapsed to thick jungle. Once again, it became a tangle of thickets, vines, draped ivy, crowding trees, and deadwood monoliths like fallen kings. Without the guidance of the Cords, the Giants could not run unhindered; and they had no time to seek an easy route. They had to brunt their way by plain strength.

The skurj could move faster than this; much faster. The fact that the Humbled detected nothing did not reassure Linden. It may have meant only that Kastenessen had received new counsel, and had begun to devise a surer assault. She did not believe that the furious Elohim would cease his efforts to prevent her from reaching Andelain.

The company needed speed, but the Giants were too tired.

Apparently Coldspray shared Linden’s concerns. Muttering Giantish obscenities, the Ironhand left her comrade to bear the burden of Longwrath alone. The woman draped his arms over her shoulders so that she could drag him on her back. Meanwhile Coldspray moved ahead of her people and began to hack a passage with her glaive. Arduously the Giants improved their pace.

Linden’s percipience was focused behind her, northward toward the skurj. Too late to give warning, she felt Longwrath plant his feet and heave against the Giant supporting him. He moved so suddenly that Linden feared he would break the woman’s neck.

But the Swordmain must have sensed his intent. She caught his wrists before his hands struck her throat. Holding him, she ducked under his arms and spun in an attempt to wrench him off balance, flip him to the ground.

He countered by kicking her hard enough to loosen her grasp.

The Giants heard that instant of struggle. Bracing themselves to protect their burdens, they turned quickly to face their comrade and Longwrath. Stave sprang to Grueburn’s side as Longwrath reached for his flamberge.

But its sheath was empty. His sword had been left behind among the rocks and desperation of the tor.

For a moment, he gaped at Linden, apparently torn between his hunger for her death and his need for his weapon. Then, howling, he wheeled and raced away, back toward the battle-mound.

In the scales of his madness, his flamberge outweighed Linden’s blood.

The Giant who had been carrying him started to give chase; but Coldspray called her back. “Permit him, Latebirth,” the Ironhand commanded sadly. “You are needed among us. And I deem that he is in no peril. While he covets Linden Giantfriend’s death, our foes will not harm him. He will return when he has retrieved his blade.”

Cursing, Latebirth acquiesced. “The fault of Scend Wavegift’s death is mine, Ironhand,” she proclaimed loudly, bitterly. “Halewhole Bluntfist and I held Longwrath’s arms to aid him against the constraint of his shackles. Wavegift followed at his back. But I allowed my concern for your fate to loosen my clasp. When his shackles dropped from him, Bluntfist held him, but my grip was broken. With the hand that I should have restrained, he struck down Bluntfist. I endeavoured to grapple with him, but I stumbled, unable to avoid Bluntfist’s fall. While I floundered, he confronted Wavegift.

“She was armed. He did not draw his blade. Therefore she hesitated. Doubtless she believed that Bluntfist and I would regain our feet swiftly to join her. But we hindered each other. While we rose, he slapped Wavegift’s blade aside and contrived to snap her neck. Then he ran. Though Bluntfist and I gave chase, we could not catch him.

“With clumsiness and inattention, I have shamed the Swordmainnir as well as myself. Henceforth I will name myself Lax Blunderfoot. When our journey has come to its end, for good or ill, I will lay down my sword.”

Stop, Linden wanted to say. We don’t have time for this. It doesn’t do any good. But she bit her lip and did not intervene. She understood Latebirth too well.

“We will speak of your name in Andelain,” retorted Coldspray. “Our present straits forbid recrimination. We must have haste. Let your shame become anger, and aid me in shaping a path.”

“Aye,” Latebirth muttered. “I hear you.” Drawing her sword, she stamped past Grueburn, Stave, and Linden to join Coldspray at the head of the company.

With pity in his eyes, Liand watched the woman pass. Like Linden, he said nothing; but she could see that his emotions were kinder than hers.

Together Rime Coldspray and Latebirth attacked the worst of the jungle’s impediments. In a kind of shared outrage, they cut vines, ivy, and deadwood aside, driving themselves past their fatigue so that their comrades could move more rapidly.

Fortunately the knotted underbrush and trees soon thinned as the terrain became a declining slope littered with moss-furred rocks and fallen leaves. There clusters of elm and sycamore stood back from solitary Gilden, and few shrubs and creepers found enough soil for their roots. As the Giants trotted downward, their feet stirred up a haze of insects and the damp mould of fallen leaves.

And at the bottom of the slope, the company found a stream turbulent with new rain. The invoked torrents of Liand’s storm filled the rushing current with silt, torn leaves, snapped twigs. Nevertheless the Swordmainnir paused once more so that the company could drink.

When he had eased his thirst, Bhapa asked Mahrtiir’s permission to lead the Giants once more. But Coldspray shook her head before the Manethrall could respond.

“While this stream tends southward, we need no guidance. And we are Giants, agile on rock-aye, even on slick stones concealed by debris. I cast no doubt on your skill, Cord, when I say that your aid will not quicken us here.”