Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant (98 page)

She had been warned often enough—

After a moment, Coldspray resumed, “There we deemed that we might rest.

We wished to mourn for our lost kindred. And some of their dwellings remained habitable, defying long centuries of storm and disuse. But as we slumbered, believing Longwrath secure, he slipped again from his unopened shackles and fled.

“When his escape was discovered, we held a last, foreshortened Giantclave. We elected to separate, the Swordmainnir pursuing Longwrath while our friends and kin preserved

Dire’s Vessel for our future need.

“At another time”-Rime Coldspray looked in turn at each of her smaller companions-“tales will be made of our urgent, maddened, and maddening chase. Few Giants have crossed so many leagues so swiftly, for we ran and ran, and still we ran. Traversing Seareach southwestward, we skirted the foothills of the Northron Climbs to pass through Giant Woods and enter the perils of Sarangrave Flat. There,

however, we scented faintly the ancient evil of the lurker. While we were compelled to caution, Longwrath continued to elude us. Yet he made no secret of his path. When every hint of the lurker had fallen behind us, we were able to gain ground in spite of our weariness.

“Finally we caught him, for we are more fleet than he.” Again she sighed. “At the foot of Landsdrop, we shackled him once more. And for a handful of

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days thereafter, he ceased his escapes. Perhaps because we followed the path of his madness, or mayhap because the ascent of Landsdrop and the obstructions of this woodland hindered him, he permitted us to remain his captors. Thus we were granted a measure of rest.

“Yet our fear increased, for now when he spoke of ‘slay’ and ‘her’ and ‘fools,’ we heard eagerness as well as fury. By this sign, he revealed that he drew ever

nearer to the object of his wish for murder.”

“Indeed,” murmured Onyx Stonemage. “I am a Swordmain and deem myself valorous. Yet I knew such dread at his pronouncements that I am shamed by it.”

At Stonemage’s side, Stormpast Galesend nodded. “Though he uttered only, ‘Slay her,’ and ‘Are you fools?’ his enflamed and avid vehemence

prophesied ruin as much as death.”

Touched by an ire of her own, Coldspray said in a voice of metal, “It was then that we first encountered the were-menhirs, which you name skurj. They were two, and they did not threaten us. Indeed, they appeared ignorant of our presence. We might have passed by in safety, as Longwrath clearly wished.

“Yet when we had witnessed their

devouring of this great wood, their carnage and savagery, we could not refrain from combat. We are Giants and Swordmainnir, and our love for the living world is not limited to stone and sea. Though Longwrath howled in protest, we gave battle to the skurj.

“Tales will one day be made of that struggle, as they will of our pursuit of Longwrath, for we were unacquainted with our foes, and their monstrous fire and ferocity hindered our efforts to

learn how they might be slain. Nevertheless at last they lay dead. And still Longwrath suffered himself to remain among us, bound and armed.

“In our ignorance, we sought to ascertain that the skurj were indeed lifeless by severing them into less ominous portions.” She snorted a bitter laugh. “However, our error was soon made plain to us. Two were dead-but in a short time, five more came to consume the fallen, and by that means

their number became ten.”

Linden shivered in spite of the campfire’s warmth.

“Then in dismay we fled, though we are Giants and Swordmainnir. We had met a foe which we could not defeat. Still guided by Longwrath’s greed for bloodshed, we ran.

“Since that day, we have once more fought the skurj, though not by our own

choosing. In some fashion which we do not comprehend, they have become aware of us. After our first battle, they did not appear to seek us out. When we chanced to draw near them, they paid no heed. Yestereve, however, we found ourselves hunted deliberately, with cunning as well as hunger. By some means, three skurj contrived to pass unsensed through the earth, emerging beneath our feet to catch us unprepared.

“It was there, Linden Avery, that we lost our supplies. While we gave battle, Longwrath slipped his shackles once more. Having stricken me to the ground”-she indicated the bruise on her cheek-“he escaped. What food, raiment, and weapons were not devoured by our foes, we of necessity abandoned. And it is well that we did so. Had we delayed to gather our burdens, we could not have pursued Longwrath swiftly enough to forestall the fulfillment of his madness.”

Again the Ironhand paused to regard Linden and her companions. Then Coldspray concluded, “Thus our tale ends, though I have refrained from telling it as Giants do, fully, exploring each inference. The time is strait, and hazards await every heading. Therefore I ask. Do you now grasp how it is that we have come to be in this place at this time, and how we may be certain that happenstance has played no part in our meeting? Do you recognize that your own tale has become as necessary to

us as breath and blood?

“Linden Avery, you have attained the stature of legends among the Giants. Had the Search not informed us that time flows otherwise in your world, your presence-aye, and your comparative youth-would surpass belief. You have been a redeemer of the Land, and mayhap of the wide Earth also. Yet now Lostson Longwrath craves the sacrifice of your life upon the altar of his derangement. Across a

year of the world and thousands of leagues, he has pursued your death. If you do not grant us comprehension, we will remain as lost as he, and as bereft.”

Linden swallowed heavily, trying to clear her throat of implications and dread. She understood too much as well as too little, and her heart trembled. Instead of answering the Ironhand directly, she murmured, “I don’t think that they’re aware of you. I

think that they’re being commanded.”

The skurj had attacked the Giants because Kastenessen wished it. So that Longwrath could elude his guardians. Now the creatures held back so that the mad Swordmain could get close to Linden again. Kastenessen meant to help him carry out his geas.

Liand shook himself as though he were rousing from a trance. “Aye,” he whispered. “It must be so. The skurj

would not otherwise act as they have done. They are appetite incarnate. Hunger rules them, as Longwrath also is ruled.”

Like Joan, Linden thought. Joan’s despair was a kind of hunger. And turiya Raver tormented her, urging destruction.

Kastenessen and Longwrath, Joan and Roger and Lord Foul: they all sought the same thing.

Apart from the claiming of your vacant son, I have merely whispered a word of counsel here and there, and awaited events.

Understanding too much, Linden knew that her need for the aid of the Swordmainnir was absolute, if only so that she might reach Andelain and Loric’s krill alive.

And she could not tell them the truth. Not all of it: not the one thing which

she had never revealed to anyone. If she did, they might turn their backs on her. Even Stave, Liand, and Mahrtiir might prefer a doom of their own making. The Humbled would oppose her with all of their great strength.

He did not know of your intent.

While Linden attempted to sort her conflicting priorities, Stave said, “A question, Rime Coldspray, if you will permit it?”

Unsteady flames made Coldspray’s grin look crooked; broken. “I would ‘permit’ questions to any Master, Stave of the Haruchai, regardless of their unwelcome. But you stand with Linden Avery as Brinn, Cail, and others of your kind did with Thomas Covenant. You require no permission of mine.”

“Then I ask if you have encountered Masters in your pursuit of Longwrath.”

The Ironhand shook her head. “We

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have sighted none. But I cannot say that we have not been sighted. Our haste”-she scowled up at the stars- “has precluded care. Apart from forests, and the skurj, and Longwrath, we have observed little. If any Master discerned us at a distance, he did so without our notice.

“Indeed,” she added, “we pray that we have been observed-that even now some Master bears word of us, and of the skurj, to mighty Revelstone. The

folk of the Land must be forewarned.

“Yet even a mounted Master will require many days to convey his tidings westward. For good or ill, your kinsmen will know naught of what transpires here until events have moved beyond their power to thwart or succor.”

Stave bowed gravely. His flat mien concealed his reactions. But Mahrtiir said gruffly, “It is well. I doubt neither the valor of the Masters nor their

dedication to the Land. Yet it is evident that no human flesh can withstand the skurj. Only Giants will serve here. The Masters would merely perish.” He turned his bandaged face toward Stave. “As will the Ramen, and indeed the Ringthane herself, if these Swordmainnir do not accompany us-and if the Ringthane does not call upon powers other than Law to preserve her.”

Linden took a deep breath. “Mahrtiir is

right,” she told Coldspray. “We need you. When were attacked again, I’m going to try using Covenant’s ring.” These Giants had heard the tales of the Search: they knew that she had claimed his wedding band. “But I haven’t exactly mastered it. And I don’t know how many skurj I can face at once.”

Still hugging her Staff for reassurance, she began.

“Here’s the short version. I want to reach Andelain. I hope to talk to the Dead.” She yearned to find Thomas Covenant among the Land’s attending ghosts-“And I need to locate Loric’s krill.” The Giants of the Search would not have neglected to mention High Lord Loric’s eldritch weapon. “I’m too weak the way I am. We’ve all seen that. The krill might let me use my Staff and Covenant’s ring at the same time.”

Coldspray stared at her. In that event,”

the Ironhand said cautiously, “your strength will exceed comprehension.”

“I hope so,” Linden responded. “I need to be that strong.”

Then she told her story as well as her secret intentions permitted. She glossed over those details which the Giants might already know. For Stave’s sake, she said nothing of the ancient meeting of the Haruchai with the Insequent. And she did not dwell on

the frightening similarities between Joan and Longwrath. But for herself, she omitted only the personal ramifications of her trials in the Land’s past, and of her experiences with the Mandoubt. Everyone that she had encountered, everything that she had learned or done, since Roger had first taken Jeremiah from her, she endeavored to explain.

While she spoke, the night grew deeper. Darkness gathered close

around her, relieved only by firelight and the faint silver gilding of the stars. During her tale, the rest of the Giants arrived with Longwrath still shackled in their midst. When he saw Linden, he tried to roar around his gag; began to struggle feverishly. But the Swordmainnir quelled him with as much gentleness as possible. And she did not pause for him. She had to finish her story.

Her friends listened uncomfortably.

Until now, events had prevented her from telling them how Kevin’s Dirt inhibited the power of her Staff. And doubtless they knew her well enough to recognize-or guess at-some of her elisions. But they did not protest. Perhaps they had grown accustomed to the ways in which she did not allow herself to be fully understood. Although that possibility grieved her, she valued their silence. She had her own reasons for truncating her story, and some of her intentions were honest.

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After she was done, the Giants murmured together for a time, clearly troubled. Their fire-lit bulk seemed to fill the glade with apprehension. Then Rime Coldspray met Linden’s gaze across the erratic dance of the flames.

It is an extraordinary tale, Linden Avery. Your gift for brevity discomfits us. There is much that you have set aside. At another time, perhaps, we will ask more of you concerning the Insequent, Esmer, Kastenessen, and

halfhands. Certainly we wish to grasp how it is that you remain among the living when you have been slain.”

She glanced around at the rest of the Swordmainnir. When Stonemage, Grueburn, Galesend, and the others nodded, she faced Linden again.

“However, the night grows short, and we cannot foretell how Kastenessen will direct his skurj. Therefore we must give precedence to a different

concern.”

Linden tightened her embrace on the Staff. She knew what was coming.

The Ironhand appeared to select her words with care as she said, We cannot do otherwise than surmise that Longwrath’s craving for your death bears upon your purpose in some fashion. Do you dispute this?”

Linden shook her head. “Lord Foul

seems to be everywhere these days. He told me that he hasn’t done anything himself. He just gives advice and waits to see what happens. But even if he’s telling the truth, he has a whole list of surrogates who could have twisted Longwrath’s mind.” Or his madness might be a distorted form of Earth-Sight-“One way or another, the Despiser wants to stop me.”

“Then, Linden Avery,” Coldspray pronounced distinctly, “Chosen and

Sun-Sage, it behooves me to observe that you have not named your purpose.”

Linden feigned incomprehension.

“What do you mean? I told you-“

“You wish to speak to the Dead,” countered the Swordmain. “You desire their knowledge and counsel. This we acknowledge. But you also seek the krill of Loric-and you have not justified your need for its immeasurable

magicks.” Her voice had a whetted edge. “What use will you make of such vast puissance’?”

“I thought that I was clear,” Linden insisted. “I want to find my son. I want to free him from the croyel. I might have to fight my way through the Despiser to do that. I’ll certainly have to deal with Kastenessen and Roger-and the skurj. And I want to do as much as I can for the Land.”

In that, she meant what she said.

“Does your intent end there, Chosen?” asked Stave quietly. “Do you not also seek retribution?”

I do not forgive.

Linden rounded on him. “So what?” He did not deserve her anger, but she made no effort to restrain it. “That comes last.” She had too much to conceal. “If I want to pay back some of