Fatal Revenant

Her heart lifted a little. “Is there any of it nearby?”

“There is, my lady.” Again he did not question her. “We endeavour to place our encampments near water, as armies must. A creek lies a stone’s throw distant. When we broke the ice to draw water, I glimpsed a sand such as you describe.”

To herself, Linden breathed, Thank God. “It’s called hurtloam.” Unexpected hope filled her with trembling. “It’s full of the same power that’s changing you, the same power that you saw in the FireLions. It heals.”

Hearing herself, she wanted to wince. Heals was too small a word for the mystery of hurtloam. But she continued in spite of her inadequacy. “We need it. As much as you can find. Bring it here. And carry it in stone.” Stone would preserve its efficacy. “I’ll show your people how to use it.”

Surely now he would question her, and expect to be answered? Surely he would not comply merely because she had spoken?

But Berek turned at once to his escort. “Hand Damelon.”

A young man stepped forward promptly. Linden would have guessed that he was no older than Liand, although he had seen as much hard combat as anyone around him. He saluted by tapping his right fist twice against his twisted and mended cuirass, then asked. “My lord?”

Linden was too tired and numb to feel surprise. Damelon-Through the grime and blood of battle, the young man’s resemblance to his father was unmistakable, although he was somewhat taller and not as broad. Also he lacked Berek’s damaged nose as well as Berek’s emanation of Earthpower.

She was looking at the future High Lord Damelon Giantfriend, the man who would one day discover the Blood of the Earth.

Humbled by the presence of legends, she hardly heard Berek say, “Hand, you have gathered the names of those who report alterations to their sight and senses.”

“I have, my lord.” Presumably a Hand was an aide of some kind. “Some two score remain able to wield their weapons.”

In response, Berek ordered. “Inform each Haft and Warhaft,” although there was no command in his voice. He had no reason to doubt that he would be obeyed. All who are able to discern the gleaming in the sand will hasten to the creek, bearing any stone which may be used to convey the sand hither. They will search diligently for as much as may be found. Others will bear torches to light the search.”

Damelon nodded. “At once, my lord.” With a second salute, the young man strode quickly out of the tent.

Berek returned his deep gaze to

Linden. “Surely there is more, my lady?” His voice was rough with compassion. “You are one, and those who suffer, many. For their sake, will you not name further aid?”

Linden took a step backward. She had felt another warrior perish, a man no more than half a dozen paces away. Everywhere in the tent, she heard wounds cry out for succour.

“Just let me work, my lord.” She doubted that Covenant, Jeremiah, or the Theomach would-or could-help her. And Covenant and Jeremiah would not be able to abide Berek’s presence. Assuming that they had reached the camp unhindered- “I can’t think of anything else.” She did not feel equal to the challenge of explaining aliantha. “We need to talk. I know that. But first-” She gestured weakly around the wide tent.

“Yet you are weary,” Berek countered, “nearly falling. Is there naught that you require for yourself?”

Linden paused for a moment. Almost timidly, she murmured. “I left three companions behind. I hope that they’re safe.” Then she turned her back on Berek Halfhand.

While she reached out mentally for the strength of the Staff, she whispered to Palla, “Guide me, please. I need to rest my eyes.” She did not know another way to contain her weeping.

If Berek’s people found enough hurtloam, she could allow herself-

As Palla led her away, Berek commanded gently. “Healer Vertorn, you will interrupt the lady Linden after each healing. You will not permit her to continue until she has swallowed a little of your wine and eaten a mouthful of bread.”

“My lord, it will be done,” replied the physician. Linden felt him hurrying after her.

But she soon forgot such details. Within moments, she had immersed herself once more in the hurts of the wounded and the fire of the Staff.

This time, however, she did not neglect to draw on Earthpower for support. And she did not resist Vertorn’s efforts to minister to her. The prospect of hurtloam had that effect on her: she no longer felt driven to care for every need except her own.

At some point during her endless progress back and forth around the tent, she became peripherally aware that Berek had not departed. He seemed to be standing guard, not over her, but for her; ready to give her his assistance if she required it. But she did not let his presence distract her from the next sword-cut and spear-thrust, the next trauma, the next putrefying infection. She swallowed wine and chewed bread as Palla guided her from patient to patient, and did not relax her flames.

By degrees, she grew stronger, in spite of her exertions. Vertorn’s herbed wine was a mild restorative. Bits of bread gave her a little nourishment. And the Staff sustained her. It could not redeem her mortality, but it preserved her concentration so that she was able to work effectively.

Then the first of the hurtloam arrived, carried in stone urns or on brittle pieces of slate. Linden dipped her finger into the glittering sand to show Vertorn, Palla, and Jevin how little was required for each wound, and how wondrously it took effect; and as she did so, she granted healing to herself. Spangles of revitalisation lit the blood in her veins, coursing through her heart until her pulse lost its febrile weakness, and the trembling in her muscles receded. Gradually the illimitable gift of the Land restored her to herself.

She was dimly amazed by the abundance of the vein of hurtloam which Berek had discovered. A score of his people made several trips each to convey the sand. Perhaps this was simply another instance of the Land’s largesse, undiminished because it had not been used until now. Or perhaps, like the FireLions, it expressed the Land’s response to Berek’s oath.

When Linden could finally blink the smoke and tears from her eyes-when she was able to see as well as feel the excitement, the near ecstasy, of the three physicians-she sent Vertorn, Jevin, and the irregular stream of warriors bearing hurtloam to the other tents. Those warriors, too, had been healed as they gathered the sand, and they carried their burdens with eager alacrity.

She did not think about ripples or time. She thought about lives that would have been lost, men and women who still needed care; and she was not afraid.

For a while, she and Palla laboured over the pallets alone, moving as efficiently as they could through the array of injuries and infections. But soon she realised that the worst was over. Dozens of warriors remained stricken, but none were near death. Some would cling to life for another day or two, some considerably longer. And Berek understood hurtloam now: he would search for it everywhere. In addition, Linden saw in Palla that touching the ineffable sand had awakened the physician’s latent health-sense. She, and Vertorn and Jevin, and perhaps every warrior who had been healed by it, would be able to recognise hurtloam for themselves.

If Linden rested now, she would not have so many-too many-lives on her conscience.

To spare herself, she began a more partial form of treatment, focusing on infections, pneumonia, and other illnesses rather than wounds. These required her keenest percipience, but they needed subtler care; demanded less raw power.

In her concentration, she did not immediately notice the growing mutter of voices outside the tent; the occasional shouts. But then she heard Covenant rasp distinctly, “Hellfire! Get your hands off me, you overgrown oaf!”

“Covenant!” protested Jeremiah. “We can’t-Berek-!”

Other voices protested as well. “Warhaft!” Yellinin shouted. “Lord Berek commanded courtesy!” And Basila added, “Are you deaf? The tale of her healing is everywhere!”

But Krenwill, who had vouched for Linden’s truthfulness, countered, “You do not see them, Basila. I did not until we gained the light of the encampment. They are sealed against discernment. Unnaturally sealed. They may conceal vast powers. Fatal powers, Yellinin. If they mean harm to Lord Berek-”

“Warhaft Inbull!” roared a man who sounded like Damelon. You will desist! Lord