The Runes of the Earth

time.”

They might make better progress while Anele slept. She could not predict how he might react when he awakened.

Liand nodded his agreement. With his heels, he nudged Somo into motion.

Now they will hunt you down-

Summoning her reserves, Linden trotted at his side as he began to angle across the hillside toward higher ground.

Chapter Eight: Into the Mountains

At first the climb was not arduous. The slopes had not yet swelled to true foothills, and Liand ascended them at a slant, aiming for the head of the valley. Nevertheless the joy of the Land’s health and vitality continued to fade from Linden’s muscles, and she began labouring to match his pace. Hurtloam had healed her, but it could not give her stamina. Inevitably her new strength diminished.

Before long, however, as she and her companions rounded a hilltop on their to the next rise, something ahead of her tugged at her senses; and when she looked toward it, she saw a clump of aliantha.

No wonder she loved the Land. Its providence delighted her.

Without urging, Liand guided his mount toward the low shrubs.

They had twisted limbs and dark green leaves shaped like a holly’s; and beneath the leaves grew clusters of viridian fruit the size of blueberries. Under the Sunbane, she had never found more than a single bush in any one place, but here they had proliferated into a group of six or eight. Perennial and hardy, and resistant to all Lord Foul’s depredations, they produced treasure-berries in every season, even during the winter-or so Covenant had once told her.

When she and her companions reached the clump, Liand might have dismounted; but Linden asked him to remain where he was so that he would not disturb Anele. The old man’s need for rest was as palpable as an ache. Gathering berries eagerly, she handed some to Liand, then placed several in her mouth.

They tasted like a gift, the distilled essence of the Land’s natural beneficence: light and sweet, with a flavour of peach followed by a refreshing suggestion of salt and lime. Her whole body seemed to sing with appreciation as their savour and juice washed the strain from her throat.

One by one, she dropped the seeds into her hand and cast them around the grassy slope as she had been taught, so that more aliantha would grow to nourish the Land. And from the pinto’s back, Liand did the same. Seeing him do so comforted her. Apparently his people had retained that aspect of their birthright, whatever else they may have lost.

At another time, she might have wished to linger here, relishing the taste of the berries. But the certainty that the Haruchai would come after her rode her pulse as if her heartbeats were the rhythm of feet and hooves. And when she looked back down the valley, she saw the thunderheads over Liand’s home dissipating at last, their violence expended. The search for her, and for Anele, would begin soon-if it had not already commenced.

Leaving some of the treasure-berries behind for others who might need them, Linden and Liand resumed their flight.

Now the terrain piled upward more strenuously, accumulating toward the heights. Liand’s path had temporarily diverged from the watercourse; but Linden measured their progress by watching how the mountains towered ever more grandly over them, single peaks and massifs jutting urgently into the heavens. Ahead of her, the Mithil’s Plunge loomed until it seemed to pour from the heart of the range, bearing the private thunder of mountains in its writhen turmoil.

She could see no sign of any path behind the Plunge. Already the roar of the water seemed to barricade the way against her.

And when she reached it, what then? Behind the fall: across the more obdurate foothills beyond it to the steep fan of scree: up that precarious slope to the concealment of the rift. And what then? She had no clear plans. In a general sense, she proposed to work her way eastward among the mountains until she could regain the Land somewhere beyond the remains of Kevin’s Watch. Then, if she had baffled the pursuit of the Masters, she might head toward Andelain, hoping to find an unspecified form of insight or support.

The vagueness of her intentions frustrated her. But what else could she do? Liand knew only Mithil Stonedown and its environs; nothing about the larger issues of the Land. And anything that Anele might comprehend was masked by madness.

She wanted to find the Staff of Law; but she had no idea how to look for it. It had already eluded the meticulous searching of the Haruchai.

Prompted as far as she knew by nothing but prescience, Jeremiah had constructed images of Mount Thunder and Revelstone in her living room. Perhaps he had meant them as hints; guidance. But she did not know how to interpret them.

Then a tug of the breeze brought spray to her cheeks; and when she looked up into the water’s buffeting roar, she saw that she and her companions were approaching the base of the Mithil’s Plunge.

The cataract pounded down from its heights as though it were driven by anger as well as eagerness; as though the cold force of the peaks filled the torrents with a fury for spring and renewal. Liand shouted something to her, pointing, but she could not hear him through the tumult. Spray chilled her in spite of her exertions: her shirt had begun to stick to her skin. Looking where Liand pointed, however, she saw that the waterfall tumbled free of the cliff-face for several hundred feet before it smashed into the head of its ravine. Still she would not have imagined that a passage existed behind the Plunge if her companion had not urged her forward.

Behind him on the mustang, Anele had awakened. As if he could see, the old man studied the waterfall intently, but he showed no alarm. Beads of moisture clung in his hair and whiskers, and sunlit sparks of reflection transformed his face as if he were being made new.

As they ascended, the spray became as thick as rain, and the water’s tumult seem to blare away every other sound.

A stone’s throw later, Liand dismounted; helped Anele to the ground. Panting against mist that threatened to fill her lungs, Linden climbed to join them as the Stonedownor unpacked a blanket from his supplies and wrapped it over Somo’s eyes, protecting the pinto from panic. Then he looped the reins around his hand and pointed again. His yell barely reached her.

“There!”

She made no effort to see what he indicated. She felt that she had begun to suffocate, smothered as much by the water’s weight as by its roar and spray. Liand meant to lead her behind that cataract. If they allowed its force to touch any part of them, it would snatch them down, crush them to pulp.

Unable to answer, she simply nodded and waved Liand ahead. As the young man pulled Somo into motion, she joined Anele; took his arm as if to remind him of her promise. Then she began to move toward the Plunge, forcing her way down a throat of sound.

Anele accepted her grasp. Perhaps in his blindness he trusted her as he did Liand. Or perhaps he was already familiar with this passage. In his long years of hiding and fear, he might have discovered it for himself.

Gradually Liand guided them nearer and nearer to the waterfall; but Linden did not so much as glance at it. It frightened her profoundly. Her clothes clung to her now, entirely soaked. Sodden hair straggled across her face. She had difficulty keeping her eyes clear. The complex thunder of the fall seemed to pull at her, urging her toward its touch.

Clutching Anele as much for her own protection as for his, she followed Somo’s hooves behind the massive curtain of the Mithil’s Plunge.

At first, she could not see: the water’s roar seemed to efface light. But then reflected illumination from the ends of the passage leaked through the spray, lifting her way out of the darkness.