Under the Sunbane, she had ridden the Coursers of the Clave, and they were larger than any Ranyhyn. But Cail had supported her then. With his arms around her, she could not have fallen, even by choice.
Hyn approached with a mincing step. Somehow the mare conveyed the unexpected impression that she felt shy in Linden’s presence. When she drew near, however, she nudged Linden’s chest, tangibly urging Linden to ride her.
Her warm breath smelled of sweet grass and freedom; of galloping wildly across illimitable vistas.
Linden looked around for help; and immediately Bhapa came toward her with wonder in his eyes. To both Linden and Hyn, he bowed deeply. Emotion thickened his voice as he said, “Ringthane, you are reluctant to ride. For that we honour you. It is fitting to be humbled by the Ranyhyn. But in this their will must not be thwarted. The fate of the Land rides with you, and you require their aid. You will not regret that you granted their desire here.”
The Ranyhyn wanted something from her. And from Stave.
Bhapa watched her face. “Do you fear that you may fall? There is no need. The Ranyhyn permit no harm to their riders.”
Linden shook her head. She
She also will not bear you where you wish to go. Nonetheless she desires to bear you.
What could the great horses possibly want from her?
Linden seemed to have no choice. “All right,” she muttered. “I don’t understand any of this. Never mind that. Help me up.”
Hyn nickered approval as Bhapa interlaced his fingers to form a stirrup. Hurrying so that she would not hesitate, Linden stepped into his hands and reached upward.
Even then she might not have been able to mount. The distance was too great: for an instant, it seemed to symbolise or contain all of her limitations. But Bhapa lifted her higher; and she found herself unceremoniously seated on the mare’s back.
Clutching the silk of Hyn’s mane in both fists, she tried to regain some sense of balance.
With elaborate consideration, Hyn turned until she faced southward, away from the Land. At the same time, Hynyn wheeled more imperiously, bringing Stave to Linden’s side. Both Ranyhyn plainly intended to return in the direction from which they had come.
“Linden!” Liand called anxiously. In haste, he tugged Somo out into the clearing, then scrambled onto the mustang’s back.
Hynyn responded with a stern whinny. Hyn flicked up her hooves one at a time, showing Somo her heels.
When the Ranyhyn started into motion, Somo refused to follow.
Liand barked a command; dug his heels into the pinto’s sides; hauled on the reins. His mount dropped its head and did not move. “Linden!” he shouted again, at once angry and frightened. “Do not-! I must accompany you.”
“Stop,” Linden muttered to Hyn, “wait, don’t go yet. I said he could come with us.”
The Ranyhyn ignored her. Together, stately as frigates, Hyn and Hynyn walked out of the clearing among the Ramen.
Linden nearly lost her seat turning to watch Liand’s struggle with Somo.
Then two of the Cords intervened, obviously urging Liand to accept Somo’s refusal; and Manethrall Dohn explained to Linden, “It is the will of the Ranyhyn. They do not condone the Stonedownor’s presence. Fear not, Ringthane. You will return to find him safe among us. He will yet ride with you.”
Liand protested, an inarticulate gasp of dismay. Flinging himself from the pinto’s back, he ran after Linden. The heat in his eyes and the dogged set of his shoulders proclaimed that he meant to follow her on foot as long and as far as necessary.
Almost at once, however, the Cords stopped him. He wrestled with them furiously until Manethrall Hami snapped his name.
“The will of the Ranyhyn is plain,” she told him severely. “We will not permit you to act against it.” When at last Liand subsided, she added more kindly, “Hyn will ward the Ringthane with her life.”
Liand may have continued to protest. Perhaps Hami reassured him further. But Linden could no longer hear them. Hyn had borne her beyond earshot.
For the moment, the ground seemed to yaw vertiginously on either side of her. She was perched too high on a mount over which she had no control; and her legs were stretched too wide. Only her grip on Hyn’s mane secured her. A precarious hold: the fine hair would slip through her fingers if she relied on it.
She had made plans and promises, but she appeared to have no say at all in whether or not she ever kept her word.
She wanted to demand explanations from Stave, although she knew that he had none to give her. But his pain was vivid in the morning light, and its sharpness closed her throat. In spite of her visceral alarm, she suspected that the behaviour of the Ranyhyn disturbed him more profoundly. She was merely frightened-and frustrated by her inability to act on any of her choices. He was experiencing a violation of the ancient relationship between his people and the great horses.
More for her own sake than for his-as far as she knew, the
He did not so much as glance at her.
Linden shrugged to herself. More seriously, she asked, “Do you have any idea where they might be taking us? Can you think of anything that might explain what they’re doing?”
She hardly expected him to respond. The scale of their disagreements and conflicts might make simple conversation impossible.
Having stated his position and made his decisions, however, Stave now seemed content to comport himself as though nothing had changed. “I have no clear answer,” he replied calmly. “Yet there is a tale which was told by Bannor of the Bloodguard during the time of the Unbeliever. It suggests an answer.”
“Please,” Linden put in promptly. “Tell me.”
“This tale,” he said, “concerns the quest of High Lord Elena and ur-Lord Covenant for the Seventh Ward of Kevin’s Lore. Though they knew it not, they sought the Blood of the Earth and the Power of Command.
“You have heard that when ur-Lord Covenant first summoned the Ranyhyn, a great many of them answered, each rearing in obeisance and fear, each offering to be ridden. Yet he refused them, for which the Ramen honour him above all Lords and Bloodguard. Rather than ride any Ranyhyn, he asked of them a boon.
“In Mithil Stonedown he had done cruel harm to a woman of the Land-to Lena daughter of Atiaran, she who later gave birth to High Lord Elena. Hoping, perhaps, to ease that wrong, he asked of the Ranyhyn that one of them would visit Lena each year, for she adored them.
“This service the Ranyhyn fulfilled without fail, until the Unbeliever himself released them from it.”
Gradually Linden’s anxiety receded as she began to feel more secure on Hyn’s back. When they had left behind the shelters of the Ramen, the Ranyhyn increased their gait to an easy, rolling canter which carried them swiftly through the deep grass. At that speed, she might have felt more alarm rather than less. But the mare was able to compensate for her uncertain balance. In spite of her initial trepidation, she found herself relaxing to the sound of Stave’s voice.
She knew what he meant by “cruel harm.” Covenant had told her of his crime against Lena. However, the rest of Stave’s tale was unfamiliar to her.
“In later years,” he was saying, “during High Lord Elena’s girlhood, Lena occasionally allowed her daughter to ride in her place. The High Lord spoke of that time in Bannor’s presence while she and ur-Lord Covenant floated upon the flame-burnished waters of Earthroot.
“She told of a ride which expressed the will of her mount, the Ranyhyn Myrha, rather than any wish of hers.”
Ahead of Hyn and Hynyn, the mountainsides crowded close together, leaving only a narrow gap between sharp cliffs. As the great horses stretched their canter to a run, the cut ravine seemed to sweep palpably nearer. Grass, a few shrubs, and the occasional
