Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant (89 page)

For a while, Linden caught no glimpse of the Humbled and Bhapa. Under the midday sun, however, she eventually saw Clyme waiting ahead of her. Apparently he had decided that the time had come to rest the Ranyhyn while their riders ate a quick meal.

His bleeding had stopped. Aided, perhaps, by treasure-berries, his native toughness had reasserted itself. Even while he rode, his wounds healed slowly.

Before Pahni and Liand allowed Anele to dismount, Linden took a moment to study the grass. All around her, many varieties grew together. Some resembled the lush wealth of the Verge of Wandering. But among more luxuriant greens were streaks and swaths of the raw-edged scrub grass which covered the hills and slopes of the Mithil valley: the grass on which the old man was vulnerable to Lord Foul.

Here Anele needed protection.

Instead of insisting that he remain on Hrama, she decided to test the effectiveness of the blankets. At her request, Pahni unrolled the thick pad and guided Anele onto it from Hrama’s back.

Warded by wool, the old man showed no sign of possession. His fractured muttering was disturbed only by his discomfort at Clyme’s nearness.

The horizons remained clear. When

Linden questioned Clyme, he reported no indication of danger. He and Bhapa had found evidence of Roger’s army’s trek toward First Woodhelven. For a time, Galt had been able to track Roger and his remaining Cavewights eastward. But nothing stirred to threaten the riders-unless it was concealed by the glamour which had enabled Roger’s forces to take Linden’s company by surprise.

She might have felt relief. Perhaps she

should have. Apparently Roger was indeed reduced without the aid and knowledge of the croyel. Alone, he could not simply bypass time or space: he was forced to travel by more ordinary means.

But his limitations confirmed that he had set out to intercept her several days before Kastenessen had touched Anele. Conceivably Roger had begun to lead his army westward as soon as he and Jeremiah had returned to their

proper time. Kastenessen may have precipitated Roger’s attack; but Roger and his forces must have already been poised to strike. Hidden by glamour-extending as it does to conceal so many-he must have been waiting for her along her most direct route toward Andelain.

She had told him what her intentions were; forewarned him—

Nevertheless he had lost too many

Cavewights to challenge her again soon. He knew her power. He knew that scores of ur-viles and Waynhim remained willing to serve her. And he no longer had the support of the croyel. He would need time to rally more of Kastenessen’s-or Lord Foul’sallies.

Therefore-Linden swore under her breath. Therefore the next attack would probably come from the skurj.

In spite of everything that she had

learned and suffered, she was inadequate to her task. If she were wiser, or stronger, or calmer-When the battle ended yesterday, she should have tried to catch Roger while he was still within reach, and vulnerable. That might have forced Kastenessen to hesitate. But she had been consumed by desperation and killing; exhaustion and remorse. She had missed her chance. Now she could only hope to outrun the maddened Elohim’s malice.

When she and her companions were mounted, ready to ride, she described her concerns. Then she told Clyme, “We’ll need as much warning as possible. You and Bhapa have to be able to ride as far and as fast as you can. We need you at your best.”

With difficulty, she restrained an impulse to demand, So heal, damn it. Or let me help you. You aren’t much good like this.

His hurts were as unmistakable as groans.

Clyme faced her without expression. For a moment, he appeared to be waiting for her to say more; to speak her wishes aloud so that he could refuse her. Then he gave a slight nod. Urging Mhornym to greater speed with every stride, he rode away.

Abruptly Mahrtiir growled, “The

Ringthane speaks sooth. Yet needful

tasks in which the Ramen have no equal I cannot now perform. Cord Pahni, you also must watch over this company, that no sign or hint which may elude the sleepless ones will be missed. The Stonedownor and Stave will care for Anele.”

Pahni flung a look like pleading at Liand, urging him to be safe, before she sent Naharahn into a gallop after Clyme. Behind her, the remaining Ranyhyn began to run, carrying their

riders with the swift ease of birds toward Andelain and the Land’s threatened heart.

While the great horses pounded the steppe, Linden prayed that she would be able to reach the Hills and Loric’s krill in time; and that she would find Thomas Covenant and hope among the Dead.

Eventually the steppe modulated into a region of rugged, stony hills like glacial moraines. Although the horses found passage along the valleys, the littered ground forced them to slow their pace. When they finally emerged from the hills toward gentler terrain, the sun was setting.

Linden did not doubt that the Ranyhyn could travel confidently in darkness. Nevertheless she called a halt on the

last of the granite debris. Temporarily, at least, her concern for Anele outweighed her desire for haste. She did not yet entirely trust his pad of blankets. Loose stone would guard him from possession as well as restore a measure of his sanity.

Mumbling to himself, he began to pick through the igneous refuse as if he were seeking a particular kind of rock; specific memories. But whenever he found a bit of granite, or schist, or

obsidian that seemed to interest him, he studied it briefly, then cast it aside and resumed his search.

As Liand and Stave unpacked supplies and set out bedding, Bhapa and Pahni emerged from the dusk. They had found no cause for concern within a league of the company, and the Humbled had instructed them to rejoin their companions for food and rest. If the Manethrall approved, Bhapa and Pahni proposed to take turns standing

watch atop the nearest of the hills. The Humbled and the Ranyhyn would form a more distant cordon around the company.

Mahrtiir nodded. “It is well. Let it be so.” He sounded vexed, as though the Cords had disappointed him. But Linden understood that his ire was not directed at them. Rather he was galled by his comparative helplessness. As long as Linden or Liand renewed his health-sense regularly, he would

remain capable of much. Still his abilities were irretrievably compromised.

Seeking to distract him while Pahni helped Liand prepare a meal, Linden said. “I’m worried, Mahrtiir. We’re pushing the Ranyhyn pretty hard. How much longer can they keep this up?”

Mahrtiir squatted among the stones until she sat down facing him. Then he said, “Do not mistake them, Ringthane.

They are far from the bounds of their endurance. Many are the great deeds that they have performed at need. I will speak of one, though it is a tale which no Ramen witnessed. We heard of it from those few Haruchai who chose to serve the Ranyhyn during Fangthane’s unnatural winter, when the Vow of the Bloodguard had been broken.”

Linden settled herself to listen. Liand and Pahni did not pause in their tasks, but their attention was turned toward

the Manethrall. Liand was always eager for tales of the Land’s past; and all Ramen loved to speak and hear of the great horses.

“In the years preceding the last siege of Revelstone,” Mahrtiir told the evening and his own darkness. “a silence had fallen over Seareach, and all who loved the Land were troubled by it. No Giants walked the Upper Land to gladden the heart with their friendship and their ready laughter. Nor did the Unhomed

send word of their plight in The Grieve. Therefore two Lords and a party of Bloodguard set out for Seareach, to discover what had befallen the Giants.”

“This the Haruchai remember,” Stave put in. “Lord Mhoram, seer and oracle to the Council of Lords, had discerned the peril of the Giants. Therefore Hyrim son of Hoole and Shetra VerementŹmate were dispatched to Seareach, accompanied by fifteen Bloodguard. Among that number were Runnik and

Tull, who returned to tell the tale.”

Mahrtiir accepted Stave’s confirmation with a nod. Then the Manethrall continued.

“The passage of the Lords and Bloodguard eastward was opposed, but their gravest hazard found them upon the Giantway within Sarangrave Flat, for that was their most direct path to Seareach. There they were beset by the lurker of the Sarangrave. So dire

was the lurker’s power that even the great horses could not endure it. In their fear, they endangered the Lords, and Ahnryn of the Ranyhyn was slain.

“Therefore the choice was made to abandon the Giantway-to return westward to Landsdrop and thence into the southeast toward the Defiles Course, that poisoned river which emerges from among the banes deep within Mount Thunder to corrupt Lifeswallower, the Great Swamp. The

Lords had determined to fashion a raft to bear them along the Defiles Course and through the Sarangrave until they had passed beyond the reach of the lurker.

“But first it was necessary to cross many arduous leagues to approach the bitter river. The hills which foot the cliff of Landsdrop are raw and twisted, forbidding haste. Also night had fallen, obscuring the treachery of the terrain. Yet the company’s need for haste had

grown extreme. And the Ranyhyn were shamed by their fear. Therefore they performed a prodigious feat. In the course of one night and a portion of the subsequent morning, they emerged from the Sarangrave and bore their riders to the Defiles Course, a distance of more than three score leagues.”

God, Linden thought. Three score-Her company had begun its journey by covering fifteen leagues a day.

“By the measure of that

accomplishment, Ringthane,” Mahrtiir concluded, “the labors which the Ranyhyn have undertaken on our behalf may be deemed paltry.” His voice was full of pride in the great horses. “If you ask it of them, they will teach you the true meaning of astonishment.”

“Ha!” snorted Anele unexpectedly. He had given no indication that he was listening to the Manethrall; but now he

held out a rough pebble as though he expected his companions to marvel at it. “Here is astonishment. Within this stone is written the convulsion which formed Landsdrop when the Illearth Stone and other banes were buried among the roots of Gravin Threndor. Such knowledge is ancient beyond reckoning, yet it is remembered here.”

With a dismissive shrug, he tossed the pebble aside and resumed his search, apparently heedless of his friends.

Indeed, he seemed unaware that he had spoken.

Linden watched his innominate quest while Liand and Pahni finished readying a meal. After the collapse of Kevin’s Watch, he had told her,
am the Land’s last hope, but she understood him no better now than she had then. Certainly he had made possible the recovery of the Staff of Law. Yet she did not see herself bringing hope to the Land: she couldp>

scarcely believe that she might eventually bring hope to Jeremiah. And if Anele had already achieved his life’s purpose, she could not imagine why he still clung to his madness. Perhaps he refused lucidity only because he feared it. Or perhaps he had not yet discovered or revealed the real purpose of his derangement.

In either case, the ramifications of his condition were too vague to be trusted. As far as she was concerned, the

Land’s last-and best-hope lay in Thomas Covenant.

When she and her friends had eaten, they settled themselves as comfortably as the rocky ground allowed while Stave stood guard over the camp, and Bhapa kept watch from the crest of a nearby hill. Rather than allowing herself to dread Roger and attack, Linden concentrated on Roger’s father as she tried to sleep. She wanted to fill herself with images and desires which

might enable Covenant to visit her dreams.

But the night did not bring dreams. Instead it brought the first in a tumbled series of spring showers that followed the company for much of the next day: prolonged sprinkles and quick downpours that soaked the riders in spite of the cloaks which they had

brought from Revelstone for Linden, Liand, and Anele. At intervals, rain streaked the horizons, constricting the landscape to sodden grass and vleis, and to occasional copses shrouded with moisture. Then, between the showers and clouds, sunshine burst over the region, sketching bright transitory reflected jewels among the water drops until the earth and the trees were anademed in light.

Responding to the weather, the

Ranyhyn slowed their fleet gallop somewhat, careful not to outrun the protection of the Humbled and the two Cords as they scouted ahead in a wide arc beyond the range of Linden’s senses. Still the horses went swiftly, crossing slopes and lowlands until the contours of the Land appeared to open before them like a scroll.

Once in the distance, through a gap between showers, she glimpsed a caesure. But it was far against the

northern horizon, seething erratically away from the riders. When Stave assured her that there were no villages or smaller habitations in the vicinity of the Fall, she decided to let it go. Deliberately she closed her mind to its migraine nausea, and by degrees it receded from her awareness.

Late in the day, the sky finally cleared, leaving the air full of sunlight as if the Land had been washed clean. Whenever Pahni or Bhapa rejoined the

company to describe what lay ahead, they reported only that neither they nor the Humbled had found any evidence of danger. And the Ranyhyn quickened their strides to the pace that they had set the day before. Linden began to think that perhaps they were indeed traveling too swiftly to be caught by Kastenessen’s servants, or Lord Foul’s.

As for the Harrow, she could not begin to guess what he would do, or when he would do it. If she had known how to

bargain with him-or been willing to do so-she still had no idea how to invoke his presence. Apparently his promise of companionship had been an empty threat.

While the company made camp that night on a broad swath of gravel and stones at the edge of a watercourse, Linden asked Stave how far they were from Salva Gildenbourne. He replied that they would catch sight of the sprawling forest before mid-morning, if