Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant (23 page)

-the perils which have been prepared for you.

Abruptly she wheeled on the Voice of the Masters. “Are Covenant and my son still here’?” she demanded in alarm. “Did I banish them?”

This is bad enough. Tell me that I haven’t made it worse.

Handir’s mien tightened slightly, but he betrayed no other reaction. “The ur

Lord and his companion remain. They were forewarned of your power, and have endured it.” A moment later, he added, “They have departed from their chambers, proceeding toward the upland and Furl Falls.” The moisture on his face seemed to increase the severity of his gaze. “If you have no wish to delay them, we must set forth.”

In response, Mahrtiir growled softly. “If the ur-Lord is delayed, let him be delayed. She is the Ringthane and has

demonstrated her worth. Do you question this?”

Torn between relief that she had not erased Covenant and Jeremiah, anger on Anele’s behalf, and anxiety about what lay ahead of her, Linden made a placating gesture toward the Manethrall. “You’re right,” she told Handir. “We should go. Covenant says that he can save us. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

She did not fear that he would attempt the salvation of the Land without her. She had some innominate role to play in his designs. But they would be dangerous: she was sure of that. How could they be otherwise, when she had resisted his desire for his ring?

Whatever happened, she meant to protect her son.

Beckoning for her friends to join her, she walked away from the savagery of

the Demondim to keep her promise to Covenant and Jeremiah.

As she trod the sodden grass, the rainfall slanting into her face continued its gradual decline. Behind her, the storm-front blocked the rising sun. But a cold wind was rising, sweeping down onto the plateau from the distant mountains. Its taste and touch implied

that it would increase. Already it slapped the dwindling rain at her. Soon the droplets would begin to sting when they struck her skin.

Her cloak was soaked, and most of her clothes were damp. If she remained exposed to the weather, the wind would gradually chill her until she lost the effects of the loremaster’s vitrim. Nevertheless she strode toward the west with determination in her strides and a semblance of clarity in her heart.

She feared so many things that she could not name them all; but wind and rain and cold were not among them.

Now Stave, Handir, and Galt guided her along the south-facing rim of the great Keep, avoiding the center of the promontory. Doubtless this was the most direct path toward Furl Falls. Liand walked steadily at her side, his face set against the weather. Occasionally his attention turned toward Pahni as if every sight of her

took him by surprise. Even more than the Ramen, however, he seemed settled in his distrust of Covenant-and of Jeremiah. He had not been raised on legends of the Ringthane who had refused to ride the Ranyhyn. And he knew nothing of Covenant’s victories over the Despiser-or of their terrible cost-apart from what he had heard from Linden. For him, the situation was comparatively simple. His loyalty belonged to Linden.

She felt a desire to stop and talk to him, to explain how Covenant had earned her love and gratitude, and why she was prepared to sacrifice anything and everything for Jeremiah. She wanted Liand to understand why she intended to give Covenant as much help as she could, in spite of his strangeness and his scorn and his oblique cruelty. But she resisted the impulse. Covenant had avowed that he knew how to retrieve the Land from Lord Foul’s malice. Liand would learn

the truth soon enough: Linden herself would learn it. Then she would no longer feel a need to justify her choices.

Instead of speaking, she tightened her grasp on the Staff; confirmed with her free hand that the immaculate circle of Covenant’s ring still hung on its chain under her shirt. For Revelstone’s sake, she had already missed one opportunity to explore Covenant’s motives and Jeremiah’s plight: she

would not miss another.

Because she restrained herself, she and her companions walked in silence. The Ramen had a clearer sense than Liand did of what was at stake, for the Land if not for her: they were enclosed in a tight, expectant concentration. And Stave was Haruchai, too self-contained for unnecessary conversation. Only Anele spoke; but his incoherent mumbling conveyed nothing.

Then Stave touched Linden’s arm. When she glanced at him, she saw that Galt and the Voice of the Masters had turned their steps away from the line of the cliff, angling across a low rise. In that direction, by her estimate, lay the opening of the tunnel which emerged from Revelstone. Presumably Handir and the Humbled aimed to intercept Covenant and Jeremiah there.

With her companions, she followed the

two Masters.

Clouds still occluded the dawn, but the thin grey light was enough. From the top of the rise, Linden could see the wide mouth of the Keep gaping to the rain. Just outside the tunnel, Covenant and Jeremiah stood facing toward her, obviously waiting for her.

They were accompanied by Clyme and Branl, as well as by perhaps twenty other Masters.

Vaguely Linden wondered if these Haruchai were all that could be spared from the defense of Revelstone. She still had no idea how many of Stave’s kinsmen occupied Lord’s Keep.

Covenant did not appear to look at her: he held his head down as if he were lost in contemplation. But Jeremiah waved with the enthusiasm of an excited boy.

The sight of his eagerness smote

Linden deeply. She should have been delighted; should have felt unalloyed joy at his conscious and willing presence, his show of gladness. But she could not forget that it was his power which had prevented her from touching him in the forehall.

He and Covenant remained

impenetrable to her senses.

Involuntarily her heart tightened, and her face settled into a grim frown, as

she strode down the hillside to meet the two people whom she most loved-and whom she most wanted to trust.

At her approach, Covenant glanced up once, briefly, then began to walk away from the throat of Revelstone, heading toward Furl Falls. But Jeremiah called happily, “Hi, Mom! Its time to get started!” before he moved to join Covenant.

Her son’s tattered pajamas were drenched, but he did not appear to feel the cold. She still did not know whether he had been shot.

The Masters arrayed themselves protectively around the Unbeliever and Jeremiah without impeding Linden’s approach. In a few moments, she caught up with them.

Stave walked like a guardian between her and them. Rain pricked at her face

and hands. The wind had teeth now, biting through her cloak into her clothes.

Covenant was closer to her, between Stave and Jeremiah. Carefully neutral, as if she were speaking to the weather rather than to Covenant, she said, “I think that I understand why you didn’t want to tell me what you’re planning.”
deserve better than this. I need something in return. “But why did we have to come out here?’ She gesturedp>

vaguely at the rain. A little bit of trust. “Why couldn’t you show me inside? And why did you have to wait until now?”

Covenant seemed distracted, his thoughts elsewhere. But he did not pretend that he had not heard her. “It isn’t going to be easy,” he said absently. “We don’t just need distance from the Demondim. We need a smoke screen. Like the Earthpower coming out of Glimmermere. If they

catch even a whiff of what we’re doing-” For a moment, his voice faded. Then he added, “But that’s not the only problem. There are other forces that might try to stop us. We needed time to prepare for them.”

“What ‘forces’?” asked Linden. “You said something like that last night, but you didn’t explain.”

He kept his head down, studying the soaked grass. “Well, Kastenessen for

one. Who knows what the hell Esmer is going to do?” He glanced over at Jeremiah. And you’re forgetting that those ur-viles have manacles.”

Linden missed a step. She could no longer conceive any ill of the Demondim-spawn. After what she had just experienced, his suspicions sounded absurd.

“But if I were you,” he went on before she could pursue the subject, “I’d be

more worried about the Elohim. They’ve never trusted me. You remember that.

“Of course,” he said sourly, “you have my ring, which suits them just fine. But that doesn’t mean they won’t try to interfere. They haven’t spent all this time warning people to ‘beware’ of me just for fun.”

“I’ve met them,” Jeremiah offered. “I think they just don’t like it when

somebody else is more important than they are.”

By slow degrees, dawn leaked though the receding storm; dissolved the darkness over the plateau. Now stands of trees were visible on either side of the route chosen by the Masters: copses of mimosa and wattle, clustered cedars, all dark, shrouded with rain and full of implied secrets. Any number of lorewise beings could have concealed themselves there, and

Linden would have caught no hint of them.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. If Kastenessen wants to stop you, why would the Elohim want the same thing’?” Esmer had told her that they expected her to deal with Kastenessen and the skurj. Are you not the Wildwielder? What then remains to cause the Elohim concern? “They Appointed him to stop the skurj. In fact, they forced him. They made

him a prisoner. Why would they want what he wants now?’

“You’re right,” replied Covenant

sharply. “You don’t understand.

Especially Kastenessen.”

With elaborate patience, he explained, “You need to realize that he didn’t break his Durance. He didn’t have that much actual power. No, he slipped out. Which he managed to do by becoming part skurj himself.” While Linden stared

at him, Covenant muttered as if to himself. “He probably got the idea from Foul. The Despiser loves shit like that.”

Then he resumed his explanation. “Oh, the effect was the same. No more Durance. But the point is, it was hideously painful. Merging with the skurj, even a little bit-It was more painful than you can imagine. Hell and blood, Linden, it probably makes what Jeremiah is going through feel like a picnic.”

“He’s right, Mom,” Jeremiah put in with as much earnestness as his excitement allowed. He was tossing his racecar back and forth between his hands as he walked, catching it deftly with his remaining fingers. “I saw it. Before you came to the Land. Its horrible. If I ever have to choose”-he shuddered dramatically-“I’ll stay where I am.”

Still studying the rain-matted grass, Covenant nodded. Now Kastenessen

is all pain. Its made him completely insane. There’s nothing else left. And rage is his only outlet. Everything he does is just another way of screaming.

“But he can’t rage hard enough to stop the pain. No one can. Not for long, anyway. So he does what any lunatic does in his situation. He causes himself more pain, trying to make his rage more powerful. Being part skurj isn’t excruciating enough, so he surrounds himself with them, he

makes them carry out his rage. And when that doesn’t work, he maims-“

Covenant’s voice trailed away. “Maims what?’ Linden asked at once.

“Himself, of course,” the Unbeliever snorted. “It doesn’t matter what he hurts. All that matters is pain and rage. He’s a walking, talking apotheosis of pain, and nothing is going to make him sane again. I intend to put him out of

his misery, but he just doesn’t understand. He can’t. His pain is all he’s got. He’s terrified of losing it. That’s why he wants to stop me.

“If he figures out what’s about to happen, he’ll go berserk. He can’t bring the skurj against us fast enough to make a difference. But he’s still Elohim: He can show up anywhere in a heartbeat. And you do not want to fight that kind of power.”

Abruptly Covenant stopped; turned so that Linden was forced to face him. Again she saw a glimpse of embers in the depths of his eyes, ruddy and threatening. The strict lines of his visage seemed to challenge her. While Stave watched him warily, and her friends crowded close to hear him, the Unbeliever told her harshly. “That’s what I’ve been doing all night.” He seemed to suggest that she had been wasting her time on trivialities. “Distracting Kastenessen. Confusing

him with tricks, like I did to the Demondim.”

All right.” Linden struggled to absorb Covenant’s description. “Now it makes even less sense. If you’re right about Kastenessen”-if his condition resembled Joan’s-“how can the Elohim possibly want what he wants?”

“Damnation.” Covenant wiped at the rain on his face; rubbed the hint of fire out of his eyes. “They have different

reasons. Kastenessen is just

screaming. He hurts, and he wants to fill the world with it. The Elohim don’t trust me. They never have. As far as they’re concerned, the fact that I’m part of the Arch-that I can do the things I do-is a disaster.

Time is too important to them. Their immortality depends on it. They don’t want anybody who even remembers what death means to have the kind of power I do. So they don’t want me to

stop Foul. They’re afraid I might change the shape of the Arch. The shape of their Würd They’re afraid of what that might cost them.

Of course, they’re wrong. I’m not here to change Time. I protect it. That’s my job. But they don’t believe me.”

“He’s right, Mom,” Jeremiah said again. But he sounded far away, hidden behind Covenant.

A sharp gust snatched back the hood of Linden’s cloak, flung rain into her face. Among the trees, the wind droned with trepidation.

Turning as if in disgust, Covenant strode away. “Come on,” he demanded before Linden could try to understand him. “I can’t keep this up indefinitely. And I can’t do it without you.”

Linden nearly stumbled in surprise. Until that moment, he had not

acknowledged that she was important to him; that he sought anything from her except his ring.

She hastened to catch up with him again. But when she did so, she found that he had silenced her. I can’t do it-Realities seemed to shift around her, veering from one uncertainty to another. Over the plateau, the rain declined to a thin drizzle that would have felt as soothing as mist if it had not been driven by the wind. Through