Fatal Revenant

They had assuaged their bereavement with fire. Long ago, Covenant had done the same for the Dead of The Grieve.

In her own way, Linden intended to follow their example.

The company talked for a while, eating treasure-berries and considering what lay ahead of them. The Humbled said nothing; but Stave offered the unsurprising information that the Masters knew the location of Loric’s krill. The eldritch blade remained where Linden had last seen it after Caer-Caveral’s passing and Hollian’s resurrection. Doubtless the Masters had taken pains to ensure that the krill was forgotten; that Andelain itself was forgotten. And the Earthpower of the Hills had prevented the Land’s enemies from removing or using High Lord Loric’s weapon.

However, the desultory conversations did not last long. All of Linden’s companions were profoundly weary. And in every respect, Andelain comforted their strained nerves, their burdened hearts. The air filled their lungs with relaxation: their bodies absorbed reassurance from the grass: the scents of flowers and fruit trees and aliantha promised sanctuary. Even the darkness had a hushed and reverent timbre, a tone of reified consolation.

Soon Pahni and then Bhapa drifted into slumber. When Liand stretched out beside Pahni on the soft hillside, he fell asleep almost immediately. One by one, the Giants did the same until only Coldspray, Mahrtiir, the Haruchai, and Linden remained awake.

Confident that the Humbled, Stave, and perhaps Mahrtiir would keep watch when the Ironhand finally slept, Linden let herself lie down on the long balm of the grass. Reflexively she confirmed the presence of Jeremiah’s racecar in her pocket and Covenant’s ring under her shirt. Because her clothes were still damp, she wondered idly whether the spring night would grow cold enough to trouble her rest. Yet mere moments seemed to pass before she was awakened by sunlight rising beyond the tall monarchs of Andelain and Salva Gildenbourne.

Now she wondered if she had ever slept so deeply here, or felt so refreshed. Her previous nights among the Hills had been troubled ones. Involuntarily she remembered the spectre of Kevin Landwaster. Tormented by despair, the former High Lord had implored her to halt the Unbeliever’s mad intent. Kevin had believed that the Despiser’s cruelty had broken Covenant.

His purpose is the work of Despite. He must not be permitted.

Similar things had been said about Linden.

Yet Kevin had been wrong. Covenant’s surrender had secured the Arch of Time. With sunshine on her face and Andelain’s beneficence like chrism in her veins, Linden could believe that those who feared her capacity for darkness were also wrong.

She can do this. And there’s no one else who can even make the attempt.

The Hills were safe. She and her friends had survived to reach this place of luxuriance and health. Now she was ready for the outcome of her choices. When she reached the krill-

Around the ashes of the caamora, some of the Giants were awake. The others stirred, roused by the quiet murmurs of their comrades. Liand still slept; but Pahni and Bhapa had risen to walk the greensward with their Manethrall, gathering treasure-berries. Stave and the Humbled guarded the rest of the company from perils which no longer threatened them. They looked as poised and vigilant as ever, like men who did not need rest and had never experienced fatigue. One night in Andelain had healed their lingering hurts.

There was no sign of Longwrath. If he remained hidden near the border of Salva Gildenbourne, Linden could not detect him. Like Anele, apparently, he was terrified by anything which endangered the hermetic logic of his madness. Therefore he feared the Wraiths. If their touch amended his insanity, he would remember the consequences of his deeds.

Sighing, Linden set the ramifications of Longwrath’s dilemma aside. Anele had not been refused by the Wraiths. That meant more to her than Longwrath’s desire for her death. She could hope that Anele might find a measure of solace among his Dead.

When Stonemage saw that Linden was awake, the woman nudged Liand. His eyes sparkled with anticipation as he sat up.

Escorted unnecessarily by Stave, Linden walked down the slope to drink from the stream. Then she washed her face and hands and arms. The water ran cleanly now, free of the tumbling detritus of the previous day’s storm; and its chill tang sharpened her senses.

A handful of aliantha completed her preparations. While her companions ate enough to sustain them, she asked Stave how long it would take to reach the krill.

“In two days, we will gain the Soulsease,” he replied. if you are borne by the Giants, and they do not weary themselves running. Loric’s krill stands little more than half a league to the south of the river.”

Linden frowned. She was more than ready: she was eager. And Jeremiah had already spent far too much time in torment. “Damn it,” she muttered. “Isn’t there some way that we can go faster?

“Don’t misunderstand me.” She included Coldspray in her appeal. “I’m grateful to be here. I’m grateful for everything that you’ve done. I can’t remember the last time that we weren’t in danger. This is Andelain. We ought to relax and enjoy it.

“But I need my son.” She needed Thomas Covenant. “I have to be able to save him. And for that, I need power,” a weapon which would transcend her inadequacy. “I don’t know how I can stand waiting for two more days.”

Coldspray’s chagrin was plain as she contemplated more haste. The Swordmainnir had already run most of the way from The Grieve. And they had lost two of their comrades: they had lost Longwrath. Protests clouded her gaze as she searched for a reply.

But Stave held up a hand to forestall the Giant. Instead of answering Linden, he turned to Mahrtiir.

For a long moment, he and the Manethrall appeared to study each other, although Mahrtiir had no eyes and one of Stave’s was gone. Then Mahrtiir cleared his throat.

“Ringthane-” he began carefully. “We parted from the Ranyhyn in order that they might be spared from the skurj. It is well that we did so. But now that danger has passed. And they are Ranyhyn, capable of much which defies comprehension. They could not have borne us safely in Salva Gildenbourne. Yet you cannot question that they are able to rejoin us in Andelain.

“Then it will not be we who slow the long strides of the Giants. Rather it will be they who limit our pace.”

The Ranyhyn-Caught by astonishment, Linden stared at him. Hyn! God, yes.

She yearned to arrive by nightfall, when the Dead might walk among the trees and copses and lucent rivulets of Andelain.

“Linden,” Liand put in. “is this wise? We did not quit the Ranyhyn solely to preserve them from the skurj. We sought also to spare them an arduous passage through Salva Gildenbourne. And we have been less than two days separated from them. Surely they-” He faltered, then finished more strongly. They are Ranyhyn, but they are also flesh and bone. If you summon them, will they not suffer in the attempt to answer?”

While Linden hesitated, Mahrtiir said gruffly, “Do not speak when you are ignorant, Stonedownor. The Ranyhyn are beasts of Earthpower, as precious to the Land as Andelain.” Beneath the surface, he appeared to wrestle with the pain of knowing that he would never again gaze upon the great horses. “If they are summoned, they will find a path and come, ready to bear those riders whom they have chosen.

“Also,” he added. “the Ringthane has good cause to seek swiftness. Her own need is exceeded only by the plight of her son, and by the Land’s doom.”

For a moment, Liand seemed unconvinced. But then Pahni tucked her arm through his, held him tightly. When he saw her reassuring smile, his apprehension eased.

Rime Coldspray peered down at Mahrtiir and Stave; at Linden; at Liand. “Limit your pace?” she growled. “That I will not credit until I have witnessed it-and even then I will require corroboration.”

Two or three of her Swordmainnir chuckled.

Slowly a combative grin bared the lronhand’s teeth. Are we not Giants? And do we not welcome wonders? The Manethrall of the Ramen has inspired in me a wish to behold these Ranyhyn. If they merit the service of the Ramen, they are worthy indeed.” She glanced around at her comrades. When they nodded, she said, “We are loath to hasten in Andelain, where every view is balm to the worn of heart. But we have endured much to come so far.