Fatal Revenant

I don’t know how he can do any of that.

“And he’s dead.” She forced herself to say this. “I watched Lord Foul kill him.” Through Anele, he had urged her, Just be wary of me. “I don’t know how it’s possible for him to have any physical form. He told me himself that too many Laws have been broken for the Dead to hold themselves together.

“But he did say that there are “other powers”, enemies or beings, that we don’t know about. And he gave me such a strong impression of”- she could not say the word falsehood aloud, not speaking to her friends about Thomas Covenant- “of discrepancy. Like all of the pieces didn’t fit. Or I didn’t understand them well enough to put them together.”

Her Jeremiah had been a wizard at such things, making the pieces fit-

“For all I know,” she sighed, “Covenant never said a word to me until today,” and every voice in her dreams, every word in Anele’s mouth, had belonged to someone else. “I can’t even begin to guess whether he actually talked to the four of you. And I certainly can’t tell you what any of it means.”

“Then, Chosen,” Stave put in flatly. “my question stands. If it remains your purpose to exert the Staff, though such forces may dismiss the Unbeliever and your son, what will you attempt to accomplish?”

Steadying herself on a kind of daring and indomitable trepidation, Linden answered him as plainly as she could.

“Covenant wants me to meet him near Furl Falls about an hour after dawn.” She had explained this earlier: she repeated it more for her own sake than to remind her friends. “But I’m not willing to wait that long. I have to do something about the Demondim. I want Revelstone to have a fighting chance if Covenant fails-or even if he just makes a mistake.”

The Demondim were reputed to be profoundly lorewise. Surely no perceptual trick would baffle them for long?

“Those creatures can use the IIIearth Stone,” Linden went on unsteadily. “Once they decide to attack, they can probably tear this whole place apart in a matter of hours. The Masters won’t stand a chance.

“I want to prevent that.”

Before Stave or Mahrtiir could object, she explained, “Covenant agrees with the Masters. The Demondim are using a caesure to draw power directly from the Stone, even though it was destroyed a long time ago. I can’t feel the Fall-they’re masking it somehow-but it has to be there,” in the midst of the horde. “And if it’s there, the Staff of Law can unmake it.

“I’m going to study those monsters,” she said directly to the former Master, knowing that he would not be able to conceal what he heard from his kinsmen, “until I locate their caesure.” She no longer cared what the Masters might think of her intentions. “And when I can feel it,” when her health-sense had identified the precise miasmic wrongness of the Fall. “I’m going to erase it.”

As if she were not afraid, she concluded, “Without the IIIearth Stone, they’re just Demondim.” Hideously potent in themselves: more than a match for the Masters. But they would need days rather than mere hours to overwhelm Revelstone. “And maybe I’ll be able to cut down their numbers without using more power than Covenant can withstand.”

Stave showed no reaction; made no comment. He may have been content to accept any of her decisions. But Bhapa turned from his study of the flames to regard her with surprise and hope. Pahni raised her head with an air of hesitation, almost of timidity, as though she felt abashed in Linden’s presence. And Liand gazed at Linden as if she had once again justified his faith in her.

However, the Manethrall’s emanations were more complex. Linden might have expected his heart to leap at the prospect of combat; but he made a visible effort to swallow his anticipation.

“Ringthane,” he said carefully. “it is a bold stroke, and I applaud. But I must inquire when you will make the attempt. It is plain to all who behold you that you are weary beyond measure. Will you not eat and rest to refresh yourself? If you sleep, you need not fear that the bale of Kevin’s Dirt will reclaim you. The benison of Glimmermere will not fade so swiftly.

“If you will heed me, I urge that you will be better able to confront the Teeth of the Render when your strength has been restored.”

Liand and Pahni nodded in unison; and Stave said stolidly, “The Manethrall’s counsel is apt. You require slumber. If it is your wish, I will gather our companions and awaken you in the hour before dawn. You will have time enough to confront the Demondim before the ur-Lord desires your presence at Furl Falls.”

Linden would have preferred immediate action. She would have chosen anything that promised to distract her from the poignant throb of her meeting with Jeremiah and Covenant. But she did not argue. All right,” she sighed. “That makes sense. I’m not sure how much sleeping I can do. But I’ll eat as much as I can stomach. And maybe some of this springwine will help.”

Certainly she wanted numbness

In addition, she found now that she wanted to be alone. She had reached the end of her capacity for words. The emotions which remained to her were voiceless; too private to be shared. Long ago, she had loved a man and adopted a son. She did not know how to grieve for them in the presence of her friends.

“In the meantime,” she added, “you should get some rest yourselves. God knows what’s going to happen tomorrow. It could be hard on all of us.”

“As you say, Chosen.” Stave moved at once to the door.

Mahrtiir and Bhapa rose promptly to follow his example. They were Ramen, uncomfortable under the monumental constraint of the Keep. They would find a night on the plateau preferable to being confined in Revelstone, regardless of the weather.

But Liand remained seated. Anele continued to munch distractedly at the tray of food. And Pahni lingered at Liand’s side. Her hand on his arm gently advised him to stand, but she did not insist.

Liand dropped his gaze for a moment, then looked at Linden again. “Linden-” he began awkwardly. “It saddens me that you must be alone with all that has transpired. You asked that I do not question you, and I have complied. But now I must speak. Is it well that no companion remains with you at such a time?”

“It is her wish,” stated the Haruchai. And Mahrtiir commanded Pahni, “Bring the Stonedownor and Anele, Cord. When we have delivered them to Liand’s chambers, we will seek a less constrained place of rest.”

Obediently Pahni left her seat. Taking Anele’s hand, she brought him to his feet. Yet she continued to watch Liand, plainly hoping that he would join her.

Linden covered her face, threatened once more by Liand’s candour. As gently as she could, she told him, You don’t need to worry. Sure, this is hard.” Anele had said as much, in Covenant’s voice or someone else’s. “But I’ve known worse.” She had survived the Sunbane and Rant Absolain’s malice, the na-Mhoram’s Grim and the Worm of the World’s End. She had been possessed by a Raver, and had confronted the Despiser. And her son was here. His mind had been restored to him. If he and Covenant truly did not love her, she might spend the whole night crying, but she would not lose herself. “I have the Staff of Law. And if that’s not enough, I have something even more precious. I’ve got friends.

“Go on,” she said quietly. “Take care of Anele. Try to get some sleep. I’ll see you early tomorrow.”

Liand studied her for a long moment, obviously striving to see past her words into the condition of her spirit. Then he stood up and offered her a lopsided smile. “Linden, you surpass me-continually, it seems. As you say, we will gather upon the morrow. And we who name ourselves your friends with pride will hope to see that you have found a measure of solace.”

She could not match his smile; but perhaps he did not expect that of her. Or perhaps Pahni’s soft gaze was enough for him. When he had joined the young Cord and Anele, Stave opened the door. Together, the Haruchai and Mahrtiir ushered their companions out into the corridor, leaving Linden alone with her thoughts and her desire to weep and her growing terror.

She did not believe that she would sleep. The events of the day had worn her nerves raw. And the prospect of dreaming frightened her. If she heard Covenant’s voice-his voice as she remembered it rather than as it was now-she might lose the last of her frayed resolve. An old paresis lurked in the background of her pain, and it meant death.

But she had underestimated her hunger and fatigue. Her nap before her friends had arrived was not enough: she needed more. When she had eaten her fill, and drunk a flagon of springwine, she found it difficult to hold up her