Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant (52 page)

had known and understood might be transmogrified into the stuff of nightmares.

As soon as she felt the first impact of the falls, she knew that she would not be able to climb the rocks standing. The worn granite and obsidian were as slick as glazed ice, and the water had the weight of an avalanche. Helpless to do otherwise, she dropped to her hands and knees. Then she wedged one end of the Staff into a crack

between the stones and pulled herself up the shaft as if it were a lifeline.

The wood was smooth and wet: perhaps it should have been as slippery as the rocks and boulders; as unreliable. But she had fashioned it out of love and grief and her passion for healing. Her hands did not lose their grip as she crept slowly deeper into the full force of the waterfall.

It threatened to smash her; carry her

away. She could not draw breath. Nevertheless she dragged herself along the Staff until she found a place where she could jam one arm securely among the stones. Anchored there, she used her free hand to haul the Staff after her and brace its iron heel against a boulder. Then she worked her way up its length again while the falls bludgeoned her, filled her eyes and nose and mouth, tore at her clothes.

Once more she anchored herself, raised the Staff higher, gripped it desperately so that she could climb the rocks. And before she reached the end of the shaft, her head emerged from the pitiless cascade into complete darkness.

Gasping, she scrambled out of the waterfall onto flat stone. Her arms and legs quivered as though she had ascended a precipice: she felt too weak to shake the water out of her eyes. No

glint or suggestion of rocklight

penetrated the falls. She crouched over the Staff in untrammeled midnight. If her companions made any sound-if they waited for her instead of hastening toward their destination-she did not hear it. She only knew that she could hear because her gasping seemed to spread out ahead of her, adumbrated by the constriction of granite.

The rock under her was as slick as the stones of the waterfall. It was not wet;

had not been worn to treachery by ages of water. Rather it resisted contact. The scent and taste of Earthpower was far more concentrated here, so thick and poignant that it made her weep: too potent to condone the touch of ordinary flesh. Stone which had become half metaphysical spurned her hands, her knees, her boots.

And the smell-The odor of distilled strength swamped all of her senses.

She foundered in it. It transcended her as profoundly as any caesure, although it held no wrongness. In its own way, it was as immense and fraught with mass as Melenkurion Skyweir. Her mere brief mortality could not encompass it.

Instinctively she pressed her forehead to the stone, performing an act of obeisance to the sovereign vitality of Earthpower.

The wood of the Staff had become hot. It radiated heat as if it had been forged of molten iron. It should have burned her unbearably; scalded the skin from her fingers; set fire to her drenched clothing. But it did not. It was hers. Her relationship with it enabled her to hold it, unharmed, in spite of its inherent response to the EarthBlood’s extravagance.

A tunnel, Jeremiah had said. On the other side.

Still she heard nothing. Covenant and Jeremiah must have gone on ahead of her. Covenant had told her that if she did not drink the Blood of the Earth immediately after he and Jeremiah disappeared, she might be too late to save her son from the consequences of Joan’s death. Yet they had left her behind.

She needed light. And she needed to be able to stand on stone which repulsed every touch. If she could not

catch up with her companions-

“She made it,” Covenant remarked abruptly. Linden thought that she heard satisfaction in his voice.

I can’t do it without you.

He bore the flagrant hazard of the tunnel easily, as though it had no power to affect him. He had lied about his reasons for seeking to avoid Berek Halfhand’s touch. And hers.

“I told you she would.” Jeremiah sounded like the darkness. “You did, when you were with Elena. And you weren’t half as strong as she is.”

Just be wary of me. Remember that I’m dead.

Tears coursed from Linden’s eyes. She could not stop them.

“Jeremiah, honey,” she panted, still braced on her hands and knees as if in

supplication. “where are you? I can’t see.”

The peril of your chosen path I deemed too great. Therefore I have set you upon another.

But if Jeremiah possessed the ability to construct portals which would foil the perceptions of even the Elohim, surely he could evade High Lord Damelon’s discernment? Where was the peril? What had the Theomach meant? Had

he simply been ignorant of Jeremiah’s talent? Or had he foreseen some more oblique danger?

I do not desire the destruction of the Earth. If you are wise—if wisdom is possible for one such as you-you also will not desire it.

Fuck them all.

Without warning, a sulfurous

illumination blossomed in the darkness.

Light with the hue and reek of brimstone shone from the clenched fist of Covenant’s halfhand. Through her reflexive weeping, Linden saw him and Jeremiah. They were no more than two or three strides away.

Both of them seemed taut with impatience or excitement.

Beyond them, a tunnel as straight as a tightened string led away from the waterfall into fathomless night. Its

ceiling was little more than an arm’s span above Covenant’s head; but the passage was wide enough for two or three people to walk abreast beside a small rill running toward the falls.

In the red and charlock glow, the fluid of the rivulet had the rich deep color of arterial blood. And it shouted, yelled, positively howled of Earthpower.

It was the living Blood of the Earth. It had seemed pure in the cavern of the

waterfall, but it was more so here; far more. Nothing that Linden had ever done with her Staff could match the absolute cleanliness and vitality of the liquid flowing past her.

Somewhere beyond Covenant and Jeremiah lay their destination.

“Come on, Linden,” Covenant said harshly. “You don’t have to grovel here. It’s undignified. And I’m sick to death of waiting.”

He wanted her to stand. She needed to stand. He may have recognized the lie when she had said, We’re clear. That was possible. He may have remembered her well enough—

Why had he and Jeremiah waited for her? Was Covenant honest after all? More honest than she had been? Or did he simply want her to witness what he did, for good or ill?

All right,” she muttered through her

teeth. “Give me a minute.”

Perhaps he feared that she would attack him from behind if he did not wait; that she would dare-If she had made her suspicions too obvious—

Wherever she placed her hands, they tried to skid out from under her. She could not trust her weight to them. And her boots might have been coated with oil. Every shift of her balance threatened her with slippage.

But the Staff had been formed for Earthpower. When she braced one of its heels on the rock, it held; gave her an anchor.

Carefully, by small increments, she rose to her feet. Still she felt her boots trying to slide away. One slip would pitch her onto her face. But the Staff gripped the stone, and she clung to the Staff.

“Are you ready?” demanded Covenant.

“Hellfire, Linden, it’s not that hard.
did it, and I didn’t have your damn Staff.”p>

She ignored the embers glaring in his eyes; did not risk gazing directly at his fiery halfhand. Instead she looked at her son. Facing the hunger which distorted the color of his irises, the fervid clutch of his halfhand around his racecar, the frantic cipher of his tic, she tried to accept them, and found that she could not.

Silently, hardly moving her lips, she said, If I’m wrong, I’m sorry. Try to forgive me.

Then she threw herself headlong toward her companions; stretched out into a dive along the glazed surface of the stone.

In a flare of brimstone surprise and fury, both Covenant and Jeremiah leapt aside. Cursing viciously, Covenant hugged the tunnel wall opposite the rill

of EarthBlood. Tense with shock, Jeremiah did the same. Neither of them lost their footing.

Linden landed heavily; skidded past them. As she hit the stone, she slid, and went on sliding, as if she would never stop. She felt only the impact: no friction, no abrasion; nothing that would slow her. She wanted that. She counted on it. Otherwise Covenant and Jeremiah might get ahead of her again.

But her slide took her closer to the rivulet. She did not know what would happen if she plunged into the Blood of the Earth, but she doubted that she would survive an immersion. More by instinct than intention, she dragged one heel of the Staff along the stone.

The iron seemed to meet no resistance. Nevertheless she began to lose momentum. Within half a dozen paces-and mere inches from the rill-she coasted to a halt.

Covenant’s curses followed her down the tunnel. They drew closer as he and Jeremiah rushed to catch up with her.

Shedding incessant tears, Linden called yellow flame like sunshine out of the Staff; a sheet of fire from the entire length of the wood. For an instant, her fire guttered as if it were humbled in the EarthBlood’s presence. Then it shone forth strongly. And while her blaze lit the tunnel, she used that exertion of Earthpower to secure her

footing so that she could stand. Then she wheeled to confront her companions as though they had become her foes.

Covenant stamped to a halt a few paces away from her. The fire had fallen out of his hand: he stood glaring at her with no light on his visage except hers. Jeremiah came a step closer, then stopped as well. His precious face was bright with dismay.

“Hellfire and bloody damnation,

Linden!” raged Covenant. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing’?”

“Mom, what’s wrong’?” panted

Jeremiah. “Did you fall? Are you hurt? Are you trying to banish us?”

The wood that you claim must defy them-Linden gripped her Staff grimly and did not falter. You must be the first to drink of the EarthBlood. She stood between her companions and their

goal.

Indirectly Esmer had prepared her for her encounter with the Viles. Had he also betrayed her?

“Oh, stop,” she breathed heavily, feigning anger to disguise her sorrow and resolve. “I’m obviously not going to ‘banish’ you. You’ve never been in any danger. There’s more power here than I could ever muster. It doesn’t bother you. And when Berek touched you-“

She left the rest of her protest unsaid. Covenant and Jeremiah had some other reason for rejecting contact with her. But she did not waste her scant strength on recriminations. When Covenant started to swear again, she took a step backward. And another.

“You said that you want to be clear,” she reminded him. Her voice was husky with effort and Earthpower. “So do I. I don’t”-she grimaced-“trust this situation.”

“Linden.” Covenant suddenly became calm. He kept his gaze away from hers; did not let her see his eyes. But he sounded almost gentle. “You don’t have to make a fight out of this. Talk to us. Tell us what you want. We’ll figure it out together.”

She continued moving slowly

backward. She could not see either him or Jeremiah clearly. Her vision was an irredeemable smear of tears. But her tears were not weeping, and her

nose ran only because it was stung by Earthpower.

“So you say.” Even now she lied without hesitation. “Here’s the problem. I can’t debate with you anymore.” If Covenant carried out his stated intentions-and if she succeeded at saving her son-she would be abandoned here, ten thousand years away from where she belonged. “You’ll come up with too many arguments, and I won’t be able to think.” Her mere

presence and power in this time might suffice to alter the Land’s history; unmake the Arch. The Thomas Covenant whom she had known would not have asked or expected that of her. “So I’m just going to drink the EarthBlood first. I’m going to get Jeremiah away from Lord Foul with his mind whole. I’ll make sure that he can stay in the Land after Joan dies. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you do whatever you want.”

“Mom!” Jeremiah protested urgently. If you do that, I will vanish. I won’t be with you anymore!”

Still retreating along the tunnel, Linden gazed at him through her tears. “I believe you.” A surge of grief slipped past her self-command. Then she forced it down. “I’ll never see you again. But at least I’ll know that you’re safe.”

Another faint shudder undermined the

stone, but she did not lose her balance.

If she severed the bond between her son and Covenant, Covenant might become honest. But she did not intend to rely on that slim possibility.

If you err in this, your losses will be greater than you are able to conceive.

“Damnation, Linden.” Covenant still spoke calmly, although he crowded after her with an air of desperation. “It

isn’t that simple. What makes you think I can stand by while you use the Power of Command? You’re the only one of us who’s real enough to survive forces on that scale.”

He and Jeremiah pushed toward her. Yet they did not risk coming near enough to be touched by her fire. Upheld by the Staff, she took one step after another.

She could feel the crushing mass of

the mountain lean over her. It seemed to hold its breath as though it awaited her decision; her actions. You serve a purpose not your own, and have no purpose. That may have been true earlier. It was not true now.

The intensity in the air increased. It exceeded Linden’s ability to measure its increments-and went on increasing. The untrammeled might of the EarthBlood accumulated at her back.

“I’m not so sure,” she retorted, still pretending ire which she did not feel. “You’re part of the Arch of Time. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

She had seen Thomas Covenant become a being of incarnate wild magic. Even the imponderable capabilities of the Elohim would be too weak to contain him. He could have brushed aside their interference. If he feared them, he had some other reason.

“Hellfire!” he countered more hotly. “That isn’t how it works. Right now, I’m as mortal as you are. You’ve got my ring. You’ve even got your damn Staff. I’ve got nothing. And your kid has less than that.