The Runes of the Earth

ribs.

Reflexively Linden studied Mahrtiir’s and Pahni’s wounds until she was sure that they were not mortal. Given time, the Ramen would heal. With the Staff, Linden herself could heal them. If the Ranyhyn outran the horde far enough-and if she recovered her ability to concentrate-

The great horses also had been scored with corrosion. Blood oozed from galls and welts in their sides. But the Ranyhyn had avoided hurts severe enough to hamper their strides.

Reassured, Linden allowed herself to relax a little. As Hyn strained for speed under her, she grew gradually stronger.

Then Liand gestured ahead. Shouting over the labour of hooves, he repeated, “Linden! Have you beheld it?”

She had not. Since emerging from the caesure, she had not glanced in that direction.

When at last she lifted her gaze toward the west, she saw Revelstone looming there like the prow of a mighty ship.

God in Heaven-Revelstone: Lord’s Keep. A few hundred paces directly in front of her-and some three hundred leagues from the place where she and her companions had entered the Fall.

For a moment, the sight left her stunned; too stupefied to think. Revelstone? Impossible! Even Hyn’s tremendous strength could not have carried her so far in less than ten days-

Then panic clutched her heart, and she urged Hyn to a halt, forcing Stave to wheel back toward her; face her. Ignoring the tumult and hunger of the Demondim, she demanded, “Revelstone, Stave? How in hell did we get here?”

Once the habitation of the Lords, the vast stone castle had later become the fortress from which the Clave had ruled the Land. Ten years ago she had entered Lord’s Keep twice: first as a prisoner of the Riders; then as their foe. For her, the intricately carved castle was flagrant with memories of anguish and bloodshed.

How had the Ranyhyn brought her so far astray?

Liand had told her that Revelstone was important to the Masters.

Stave gazed past her to gauge the pace of the horde. Then he met her shaken stare. Deliberately patient, he replied, “I have said that I would bear tidings to the Masters. When we entered the Fall, you asked no clear destination of the Ranyhyn. Therefore they heeded me. Answering my will, they have borne us hither.”

“God damn it-!” Linden began, then bit down her indignation. What had she expected of Stave? That he would forsake his responsibilities and beliefs merely because she disagreed with him? The Haruchai were not so easily swayed. And he may have served her well. One destination was as good as another when she did not know where to look for her son. In addition, Revelstone might provide a temporary refuge, if she could convince the Masters to aid her-if enough of Stave’s people lived here-and if the Keep’s walls could withstand the Demondim-

Nevertheless Anele would suffer for what Stave had done.

Clenching her hands on the Staff until her knuckles ached, she called Hyn into motion again.

As the mare sped forward once more, Linden stared hard at Revelstone; and her brief hope fell away. She could not imagine how plain granite might rebuff the Demondim. Perhaps the creatures would be unable to pass through solid obstacles; but they had access to the Illearth Stone-

In ancient times, the Keep’s walls had been defended by Lords and lore. Now there were no Lords, or any men and women like them. Yet she and her company raced toward Revelstone simply because Stave had willed it so.

She could not believe that she would find safety there. But where else could she go? The Demondim had not slowed their pace, and she doubted that she would ever be strong enough to withstand them all.

And Revelstone should have been a sanctuary. It had been formed by Giants during the time of High Lord Damelon, many long centuries before Thomas Covenant had first entered the Land; delved by stone-lore and stone-love into the foundations of a wedge-shaped promontory jutting beyond a spur of the Westron Mountains. From the sealed watchtower which guarded its entrance to the elaborately graven ramparts and balconies, embrasures and coigns, which defined its walls, it stood just as she remembered it: proudly, like a work of art, articulating the long-lived adoration and homage of the lost Giants.

Looking at the Keep now, however, another realisation struck Linden like a blow to the heart; another flash of anger and fear-

Her son had tried to warn her.

That also should have been impossible. In his condition, it must have been. Yet Jeremiah, who knew nothing of this place, and had never responded to her love-ah, Jeremiah had used Lego to build an image of Revelstone in her living room only a few hours before Roger Covenant had kidnapped him.

Never having seen them before, he had devised motley models of both Revelstone and Mount Thunder; messages in red and blue and yellow bricks. Using the only language available to him, he had tried to prepare her for his plight-and hers. But she had failed to understand him.

In spite of her chagrin, however, she now knew where to find to him.

But first she needed to re-enter Revelstone. That message had become clear to her as well. Why else had Jeremiah included it in his construct?

Yet the fact that Stave had brought her here implied that Lord’s Keep was more than simply important to the Masters. It was the seat of their Mastery. Here they made their decisions and kept their prisoners. They would not let Anele go. And they might oppose any use of the Staff, or of Covenant’s ring. Indeed, they might believe that their commitments required them to wrest Linden’s powers from her.

Ahead of her, Hrama and Whrany waited with their riders. Bhapa remained unconscious and feverish, sickened by the burst of vitriol which had torn open his arm and shoulder. And Whrany’s injuries appeared to be festering, as if the nacre of the Demondim still gnawed at them. But Anele gazed blindly about him with a look of confusion, apparently wondering where he was, or how he had come here.

The Ranyhyn panted with exertion, blowing froth from their nostrils. Linden could tell at a glance, however, that they were far from the end of their strength. Not so the ur-viles and Waynhim. Utterly spent, and gasping hoarsely, they sprawled in the dirt beside the horses, unable even to hold up their heads. If their makers came upon them now, they would be helpless to defend themselves.

At a thought from Linden, Hyn halted there. Stave and Liand remained mounted on either side of her; but Mahrtiir slipped to the ground at once and hastened to attend to Bhapa.

Now he gave the Cord a scent of his crumbled amanibhavam. The dried grass- blade did not rouse him, in spite of its potency. Nevertheless it appeared to stabilise his condition, reinforcing his body’s natural defences. He coughed a few times and squirmed unquietly, then began to breathe with more ease. By degrees, his fever receded somewhat.

While the Manethrall cared for Bhapa, Pahni also dismounted. Although she looked like she might collapse herself, weakened by the wound in her side, she went quickly to each of the injured Ranyhyn in turn, offering them amanibhavam.

Liand watched Linden with his eyes full of apprehension. He seemed more aware of the gnashing Demondim than anyone around him. And, like her, he distrusted the Masters.

Struggling to contain her fears, Linden confronted Stave. “All right,” she panted urgently. “You brought us here. Now what? How many Masters are there?” She meant in Revelstone. “And what do you think they can do?” They had no, power except their native strength and skill. “We need help, Stave. How can your people fight those things?”

He had promised her a reckoning. How high a price was he willing to pay for his convictions?

She was the only one here who could oppose the horde-and she was already exhausted.

Stave regarded her steadily. Instead of speaking, he extended his hand toward the high bulk of Lord’s Keep against its background of mountains; and at that moment the interlocking stone gates in the base of the watchtower swung open. From the tunnel under the tower, riders cantered outward as if he had summoned them forth.

Four abreast, they emerged row after row, first a dozen of them, then a score; two score; more-And still they appeared: more men on horseback than Linden had ever seen at one time. When the last of them had left the darkness under the watchtower, they must have numbered eighty or a hundred.