The Runes of the Earth

Her call of welcome to the Ranyhyn became a wail-

– which died in her throat as strength like a charge of coursers pounded from her hand up her arm into the centre of her heart. Between one throb of her pulse and the next, she was exalted; translated from pain and fever and terror into a realm of illimitable possibilities; suffused with cascading health and vitality and life as though she had become Earthpower.

In that instant, she seemed suddenly equal to her fate.

The surge of transcendence vanished almost at once. Yet its brevity was essential. If it had endured too long, she might have torn herself apart in sheer ecstasy. Instead the rush of power left her shaken, simultaneously drained and galvanised, and shivering as if she were still feverish. But she was not ill now. Oh, she was not. Instead she felt reborn, made new, positively redeemed: as fresh with potential as a sunrise.

She could not speak. Waves of renewal rolled through her, tumbling her into a confusion of tears and gratitude and yearning. Somewhere beyond her, Liand pleaded for her attention, although his health-sense must have told him that she was well. In the background, Stave and the Ramen welcomed the Ranyhyn, while Esmer exchanged imprecations or promises with the ur-viles. But she did not return to herself until she felt a hand plucking at her cloak and blinked her eyes clear to find Anele in front of her.

Thomas Covenant’s love shone from him, as it had once before. Standing ankle-deep in the sodden grass, he said to her in Covenant’s familiar voice-but softly, softly, so that only she would hear him- “Go now, beloved. While you can. Just be wary of me. Remember that I’m dead.”

Beware the halfhand.

She stared at the old man, too surprised-and too entirely transformed-to react. Some part of her tried to cry out, but her heart had no words-

Then the light of possession disappeared from Anele’s mien, snatched away by the sudden interruption of the loremaster. Before Linden could protest, the ur-vile reached out with its molten blade and flicked a small gouge in the thin flesh of Anele’s forearm. Snuffling damply, the creature put its mouth to the wound and sucked.

With their lore, they will pierce the madman’s confusion-

Anele suffered the loremaster’s actions without protest or struggle: he seemed unaware of them. Covenant’s brief presence must have reassured him. Mere days ago he had yelled in distress, Creatures make Anele remember!

Had the ur-viles themselves searched for the Staff of Law? For what purpose?

Until the loremaster finished with the old man and stepped back, Linden did not notice that the Ranyhyn had grown restive.

They had arrived together as she had imagined them entering the dell for Elena’s horserite; but now they separated, stamping their hooves and tossing their manes among the Ramen. Hyn came purposefully toward Linden: Hynyn approached Stave. The others ranged themselves before Anele and Liand, Mahrtiir and his Cords.

The three Ramen stared, stricken dumb, as star-browed horses urged them to mount.

As one, the throng drew back. Voices rose through the rain: whispers of astonishment; low cries of expostulation. Hami’s eyes went wide and white as if her ready pride had become chagrin.

Responding to their people as well as to the Ranyhyn, Mahrtiir, Pahni, and Bhapa immediately prostrated themselves like supplicants in the sodden grass. They may have feared that what happened now would undermine the foundations of everything the Ramen had ever done; that the meaning of their lives might crack and fall.

No Raman had ever ridden a Ranyhyn-but nor had any Raman refused the will of the great horses.

Through the confusion of voices, the Ranyhyn made blowing noises that sounded like affectionate jeers as they lowered their heads to nudge at the three prone Ramen.

Linden watched Mahrtiir, Bhapa, and Pahni in suspense, afraid that none of them would move; that the caesure would overtake her before the Ramen could redefine themselves. But then the Manethrall shook himself as if he were gathering his courage and climbed unsteadily to his feet. His voice shook like Linden’s as he announced, “The will of Ranyhyn is plain. We cannot serve the Ringthane-or the Land-if we do not ride.”

The horses replied with a resounding whinny of approval.

“No Raman has ever done so,” objected Hami thinly.

“No Ranyhyn,” Mahrtiir answered, gaining strength, “has ever offered to bear a Raman “

Still Bhapa and Pahni remained prostrate. Like their people, they were caught in a contradiction that they could not resolve. Softly in the background, Esmer exchanged a harsh commentary with the ur-viles.

“Then let it be so,” said a new voice; and Linden saw that Manethrall Dohn had moved to the forefront of crowd. His years and his scars gave him an air of authority. He did not speak loudly, but his words seemed to carry through the rain into the future. “Too long have the Ranyhyn and their Ramen been exiled from the Plains of Ra. Once in this place we determined that we would never again allow Fangthane to ravage the Ranyhyn. We have held to that promise. Yet now my heart misgives me. I fear that we have entered the last days of the Land. If we do not accept this opportunity to strike against the Render, we will be forever homeless.”

For a moment longer, no one moved. Then Mahrtiir reached down abruptly, grabbed Pahni and Bhapa by the backs of their jerkins, and tugged them erect. “Up, Cords,” he growled with hectic eagerness. “Are we craven, that we fear to give our lives a new meaning?”

Under her breath, Linden muttered, “Thank God.” Go now, beloved. While you can. She did not know how much longer she could contain the pressure building within her.

As if Mahrtiir had broken a trance, all of the Ramen seemed to slough off their wonder and dismay. They looked around them; studied the sky; peered anxiously into the north. Singly and in groups, they turned back toward the encampment. Soon only Hami remained with Linden and her companions.

“Ringthane, we must depart,” said the Manethrall. Now that a decision had been reached, she seemed resigned to its implications. “We cannot withstand this Fall.”

Linden turned toward the woman. “Then go, Hami. Take care of yourselves. Protect the Ranyhyn. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done.

“I’ll come back if I can,” she told the concern in Hami’s eyes. “If I can’t, look for me in the Land. You’ll always be needed.”

Hami’s gaze clouded; and her throat worked as if she wished to say more. Instead, however, she bowed deeply, mutely, in the fashion of her people. After that, she wheeled and trotted away after the other Ramen.

Before he left, Char spoke privately to Mahrtiir. Linden winced, thinking that Mahrtiir might rebuff the young Cord in some hurtful way. But then she saw Char offer his garrote to the Manethrall-and noticed as well that Mahrtiir’s hands had been scorched in his attempt to throttle the loremaster.

Mahrtiir accepted Char’s cord with taut grace. Although his fingers hurt, he rumpled Char’s hair: a quick gesture of affection. Then the Cord ran after the rest of the Ramen, and Mahrtiir turned to Bhapa and Pahni, and to the champing Ranyhyn. Satisfied and urgent, Linden faced Liand at last.

“Linden,” he began like a man in shock, “I-”

She stopped him gently. “Liand, thank you. For everything.” She felt almost frantic to be on her way. Nevertheless she took the time to add, “I’m lucky I met you. If you decide you want to go with the Ramen, I’11 still consider myself lucky.”

Her words seemed to pluck away his apprehensions. “Are you mad?” he replied with a sudden grin. “Can you believe that I will let pass an occasion to cross time upon the back of a Ranyhyn? I have been too long a mere Stonedownor. Here I will become more than I was.” He laughed. “I mean to teach Stave and the Masters the error of their mastery.”

Linden nodded. What else could she do? She had already tried to dissuade him too often.

Hurrying now, she strode toward Hyn, calling over her shoulder, “Mahrtiir, it’s time! We need to go.”

Her senses had caught their first taste of the caesure. If it did not slacken its advance or drift aside, it would soon be visible to ordinary sight.

Mahrtiir came promptly to help her mount while Bhapa and Pahni guided Anele to the smallest of the Ranyhyn, a muscular pinto with flaring eyes and shaggy hocks whom they called Hrama. Linden worried that Anele might be afraid to ride; but some visceral interaction between Hrama’s vitality and his own Earthpower seemed to