The Runes of the Earth: The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - Book One (52 page)

Standing or sitting, all of the Cords and Manethralls seemed to lean toward Linden. The mountains themselves brought their darkness nearer, and a chill breeze fell from their sides to fill the vale. In the moonless heavens, the stars glittered coldly, like the eyes of the
Elohim;
instances of disdain.

Linden made no effort to raise her voice. Hami was enough for her. The rest of the Ramen would hear her as well as they could, and decide among themselves whether she spoke the truth.

“I'm like Thomas Covenant,” she said over the low crackle and hiss of the flames. “We come from a different place. Outside this world.” Her few possessions confirmed this: her clothes, her boots. And white gold did not exist in the Land, or anywhere in the wide Earth. “When he was summoned against the Sunbane, I came with him.

“You were brief. I'll be the same.”

Firelight filled Hami's eyes with shadows. The Manethrall seemed to watch Linden through a shroud of remembered wars and butchery, measuring Linden's words against her own knowledge of evil.

Carefully Linden described her arrival with Covenant on Kevin's Watch. She named Sunder and Hollian, whom Anele had claimed as his parents. Knowing that the ur-viles were important in some way, she told how Covenant's Dead in Andelain had given him Vain. The beginning of the Search for the One Tree; her meeting with Giants in Seareach; their encounter with the
Elohim,
and with Findail the Appointed: these things she explained as concisely as possible. But she did not scant Brinn's self-sacrifice and triumph at the Isle of the One Tree. She would not make it easy for the Ramen to think ill of Stave's people. After that, however, she leaped ahead to Covenant's
victory over Lord Foul, the making of the new Staff of Law, and her own efforts to heal the Land.

The night around the clearing had grown impenetrable. Only the black bulk of the mountains showed against the stars. And only the campfires softened the stern faces of the Ramen.

“For me,” Linden said to the hushed gathering, “that was only ten years ago.” A quarter of her life. “Time is different where I come from.

“Three days ago, I was summoned again.” Shot through the heart. “I'm not sure, but I think two other people came to the Land at the same time.” Again she made no mention of Jeremiah. She did not want to expose him to the dire pronouncements of the
Elohim.
“If I'm right, they both serve Lord Foul. And one of them has a white gold ring.

“I don't understand Kevin's Dirt or the
caesures.
I don't know anything about
skurj
or the Durance. I've encountered
merewives,
Sandgorgons, and
croyel,
but I can't imagine what they have to do with the Land. As far as I'm concerned, none of that matters as much as the other ring.

“If Lord Foul can use wild magic, the Land is already in tremendous danger, and I'm going to need all the help I can get.”

There Linden bowed her head. Praying that she had satisfied the Manethrall, she waited for Hami's response.

After a moment, Hami murmured, “The Ramen hear you, Ringthane.” Her voice held a tone that may have been awe. “Yet you have not spoken of your companions.”

Watching the ambivalent dance of the flames between her feet and Hami's, Linden said, “Anele found me on Kevin's Watch. He was trying to get away from a
caesure.
When the Watch fell, wild magic saved us. Then the Masters took us prisoner. Once they knew who I was, they would have let me go, but I stayed with Anele. Liand helped us escape,” Liand and a concussive storm which the ur-viles must have sent. “Stave found us a little while before you did.”

That was enough. If the Ramen could not recognize her honesty, no insistence of hers would convince them.

Flickering shadows concealed the Manethrall's reaction. None of the Ramen spoke or moved. They might have been willing to listen all night. In their long history, no doubt, they had met wonders aplenty, as well as bloodshed and betrayal. Yet they seemed transfixed by Linden's brief tale. Their distant ancestors had known the Seareach Giants during the ages of Damelon, Loric, and Kevin, and during the centuries of the new Lords, until the slaughter of the Unhomed. Since then, however, the Ramen may not have met anyone who had seen so many of the Earth's marvels.

“Linden Avery,” the Manethrall began. “Ringthane.” Her tone was a knot of awe and apprehension. “We have heard you. There remains much that we might inquire of you.
Yet I do not hesitate to say that we will offer our friendship gladly—yes, both friendship and honor—if they are ours to grant.

“But you have spoken of matters which are too high for us. We are Ramen, and proud—but we are only Ramen, powerless against Fangthane as against
Elohim
or any other fell being. Our purpose is all that we are, and its ambit is too small to contain such wonders and powers. Hearing your tale, we know that we cannot measure your claim upon us, for good or ill.”

Then Hami waved her hand; and one of the Cords at the edge of the clearing hurried away into the night. Watching the young Raman go, Linden felt a new twist of apprehension.

“Linden Avery,” Hami repeated more loudly, “Ringthane and Chosen, the time has come. You have given your consent to be challenged. This is well, for such testing is necessary to us.

“The time has come to speak of Esmer.”

At once, all of the Ramen rose to their feet. In one sense or another, they had been waiting for this moment. Hami's Cords hedged Linden within their circle. The younger Ramen seemed to form a wall around the clearing.

Esmer? Linden thought mutely. Who—?

“I have said that two events brought us timely to the Verge of Wandering, and to your aid,” the Manethrall explained with a cadence of nickering in her voice. “This is the second. Three seasons past, we were yet far to the south, and though our way tended northward we did not hasten, for the
Elohim
had not persuaded us to urgency. But then a new stranger came among us.

“He named himself Esmer, and he approached us courteously from afar, asking that he might be welcomed among us. To our eyes, he appeared to be a man both like and unlike any other, ruled by love and loss, as others are, and yet as puissant as a Lord in his own fashion—a figure of both power and pain. His pain we did not comprehend, however, and his power disturbed us. Therefore we were unsure of him.

“Yet he met our challenge without demur or difficulty, but rather with a seemly reverence. And when it was made plain to us that we must cede our friendship, he became a worthy member of our journey, forewarning us of pitfalls and snares, and relieving our wants, so that our sojourn has been one of safety and ease.”

Linden waited with a mounting pressure in her ears and chest, as though she were holding her breath. A figure of both power and pain—

—who did not greet new arrivals among the Ramen, or join them while they ate.

Hidden by shadows, Hami's eyes might have held eagerness or fear, empathy or suspicion.

“Because you will now be challenged in your turn,” the Manethrall continued, “I will tell you that it was Esmer who persuaded us to hasten toward the Verge of
Wandering. It was he who informed us of the Ringthane's return in peril. And it was he who summoned the ur-viles so that they might answer your need as we did, for he alone among us speaks their tongue.

“Indeed,” she added, “because of his presence, or his summoning, we have encountered them frequently since we neared the Land.”

Then she concluded, “It is our hope that his lore may enable us to determine our place in matters which surpass us.”

Suddenly Stave thrust himself between Hami's Cords into the circle around Linden. Resolve poured from his hard form as if he were ready for battle.

As the
Haruchai
moved, Liand called out sharply: a tight cry, unexpectedly alarmed. In the same moment, Linden felt an acrid presence touch the back of her neck. Instinctively she wheeled toward the Stonedownor.

At the edge of the clearing near him, a wedge of Demondim-spawn appeared among the Cords as if Hami had invoked them.

The black creatures barked to each other softly as they advanced. They did not sound threatening, however, and the Ramen showed only tension, not fear. None of the ur-viles held weapons.

Were they here because Hami had summoned Esmer? Or because Linden herself was in danger?

Frightened and confused, Liand pushed his way through the Ramen to join Stave beside her. Both of them seemed to think that the ur-viles posed some threat.

Linden turned back to the Manethrall. “Hami—?”

Hami held up her hands to forestall questions. “I know not why they have come. We did not expect them. But they have given us no cause for enmity. Since we learned of their presence among these mountains, they have offered us no harm. Rather they have aided us upon occasion, at Esmer's behest.”

Linden frowned to conceal her thoughts. If Esmer could talk to the ur-viles, he might be able to answer many of her questions.

“Ringthane,” the Manethrall hurried on, “our challenges need not alarm you. They require naught of you, except that you abide them.

“Thus!”

Spreading her arms, she stepped back from the campfire; withdrew to the edge of the circle.

Off to her right, the crowd of Cords parted again, and a man came tensely through the firelight into the center of the clearing.

The first sight of him made Linden's stomach churn with nausea. She was instantly certain that she was looking at the being who had driven Covenant's spirit from Anele's mind; the power who had commanded Anele to keep silent at the crest of the arête.

He resembled the
Haruchai.

He could have been young or old: his features seemed to refuse the definition, the constriction, of time. Like Stave's people, he was flat-faced and brown-skinned, strongly built. Like them, he was not especially tall; no taller than Linden herself. And his cropped hair curled on his head. Seen from a distance, he could have been taken for Stave's brother, unscarred and untried.

However, he wore a gilded cymar formed of a strange fabric which looked like it had been woven from the froth of waves: a garment entirely unlike the raiment of the Masters—or any raiment that Linden had seen in the Land. And his eyes were the deep and running green of dangerous seas.

Now she knew why his nearness nauseated her. Her health-sense saw him as a queasy squirm of power; a knot of conflicts and capabilities like a clenched nest of worms. Poisonous. Breeding.

And yet—

If he had not been so tense, he would have seemed oddly vulnerable, even frightened. The occasion threatened him in some way. Or he was a danger to himself. In spite of her own discomfort, she felt drawn to him, as if he had appealed to her for pity; inspired her to empathy.

And yet—

Her nerves were sure of him: she perceived clearly that he was the figure of power who had twice intervened to frustrate Anele's insights, Anele's madness. He had reft her of Covenant's voice—

But he was distinctly
not
the being of fire that had possessed the old man. She could be confident of that as well. Rather he had merely blocked Covenant's spirit, impelling Anele out onto open ground. There an altogether different being had taken hold of the old man; a power that blazed with malice and hunger, as Esmer did not.

In some sense, Esmer served that other, more vicious foe—and appeared to despise himself for doing so.

“Linden,” Liand panted in astonishment or dismay, “he is not human. Not mortal.”

Linden swallowed a rasp of sand. She wanted to ask Stave what he saw. His senses surpassed hers. And he might have knowledge which she lacked. But her throat was too dry for speech.

Stave confronted the newcomer mutely, without moving. Every line of his form had become an imminent blow.

“Esmer,” Hami announced, apparently intending to introduce him to Linden and her companions. But he stopped her with a gesture so fraught with force that it left a streak of incandescence across Linden's sight. Then he turned to Liand.

“Liand of Mithil Stonedown.” His words seemed to writhe in Linden's ears. “You have no part in this. You will withdraw.”

Like Stave, Liand stood motionless. “No.” His voice shook. “I will not.”

Esmer shrugged as if with that lift of his shoulders he dismissed Liand's existence.

“Linden Avery,” he said next, “Chosen and Sun-Sage. You have become the Wildwielder, as the
Elohim
knew that you must. Because you spurned their guidance long ago, much will now be lost which might have been preserved. You also have no part in this, and will withdraw.”

But she, too, did not comply. She could not. Instead she stood still, rooted in place by surprise and anger. He had silenced Covenant's voice; had caused Anele terrible distress. And—

And many centuries ago, the
Elohim
had expressed surprise that she did not already wield Covenant's ring. Because she did not, they had reduced Covenant's mind to blankness, striving—among other things—to persuade or compel her to claim his wedding band for herself.