Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

The Ranyhyn had tried to warn her, but she had failed to heed them. She had not understood-

Liand fell back a step, shocked by her ferocity. All of her friends stared at her, their eyes wide. Even Stave seemed to wince. Anele’s head flinched from side to side as if he sought to shake her words from his ears.

Thomas Covenant had urged her to find him. He had told her to trust herself.

For a long moment, no one moved. Linden heard no breathing but her own. The logs that Liand had tossed into the hearth seemed to burn without a sound. But then Bhapa shuddered as if he were chilled by the cool air from the bedroom. Raising his head, he looked directly into the mute fury of Linden’s gaze.

“Ringthane,” he said unsteadily. “you have spoken of your son’s plight, but you have said little else of him. How does it chance that he, too, is a halfhand?”

A-Jeroth’s mark was placed upon the boy when he was yet a small child.

She might have taken offense if she had not recognised what lay behind his question. It was a form of misdirection which she had used often herself. He did not mean to imply that Jeremiah was a danger to the Land. Instead Bhapa was trying to slip past her defences. He thought that if she began to talk about Jeremiah, she might be able to release some of her grief, and so find a measure of relief.

He did not know that she was stone and could not bend: she could only shatter.

But the Manethrall intervened at once. “Be still, Cord,” he snapped harshly. “Where is your sight? Are you blind to the fetters which bind her heart? We are Ramen, familiar with treachery and loss. We do not reply thus to suffering. The Ringthane will reveal more when more is needed. Sufficient here is the knowledge which we have gained-and the depth to which both she and the Land have been betrayed.”

Bhapa gave a bow of compliance to his Manethrall. Then he lowered his head and remained silent.

Liand made no protest. He may have been stricken dumb by the sight of Linden’s pain. An ache of misery filled his eyes, but he accepted her refusal.

No one spoke until Stave said stolidly, “You do not forgive.” He had recovered his flat composure. “This we comprehend. The Masters also do not. And they bear the cost of it, as you do.”

Then he added in a more formal tone. “Linden Avery, Chosen and Wildwielder. Tell us of your intent, that we may make ready. If you would seek out and confront the Land’s foes, we mean to accompany you. Doubtless, however, some preparation is needful.”

He sounded like a man who saw the necessity of risk and death, and was not afraid.

Privately Linden had feared that her friends would flinch away when they heard her story. She had given them a host of reasons to question her judgment-and would give them more. But Stave’s assertion affirmed their fidelity. They had given her no cause to believe that they would ever spurn her.

Whether she went to salvation or doom, she would not be alone; not as she had been in Roger’s company, and the croyel ’s.

All right,” she replied when she meant, Thank you. Simple gratitude was beyond her: telling her tale had expended too much of her self-possession. “This is what I have in mind.”

The Mahdoubt had called Linden’s intentions fearsome and terrible. The Viles had spoken of the devastation of the Earth- Liand himself had said, You have it within you to perform horrors. But Linden did not pause to doubt herself.

“First,” she began, “I’ll have to end the siege somehow.” She could not leave Revelstone to the depredations of the Demondim. “But then I’m going to Andelain. If I can, I want to find Loric’s krill. It’s supposed to be able to channel any amount of power. It might let me use white gold and my Staff at the same time.”

Stave nodded as if to himself; but she did not stop.

“And I want to meet the Dead.” Before anyone could object, she continued grimly, “I know what Anele said. I heard him as well as you did. But I need answers, and there’s no one else that I can ask.”

She was done with Esmer: his attempts to aid her were too expensive. And she was sure that Sunder and Hollian were not the only shades who walked among the Andelainian Hills. Others of the Land’s lost heroes would be there as well, and might view her desires differently.

Mahrtiir and Stave exchanged a glance. Then the Manethrall faced Linden with a Ramen bow. “As you will, Ringthane. We will make such preparations as the Masters permit. And,” he added. “Cord Pahni will share with Liand any comprehension of your tale the Ramen possess. Some portion of his ignorance she will relieve.

“However,” he continued more harshly, “you are unaware of one event which has occurred in your absence.”

His manner claimed Linden’s full attention. Studying him, she saw predatory approval-although behind it lay a degree of apprehension.

“The siege,” she breathed.

Mahrtiir nodded. “It is gone.”

She stared. “How?” She could not believe that the Masters had defeated their enemies. The Demondim had too much power-

“Understand, Ringthane,” he replied, “that the battle to preserve Revelstone raged furiously, and for many days the eventual defeat of the Masters appeared certain. But then, ere sunset on the day before your return, a lone figure in the semblance of a man arrived on the plain. None beheld his approach. He merely appeared, just as you later appeared with the Mahdoubt. Alone, he advanced against the horde.”

Now Linden understood his desire to speak of the older woman earlier.

“The Demondim turned upon him in rage,” Mahrtiir went on, “and their power was extreme. Yet he defeated them to the last of their numbers. In the space of five score heartbeats, or perhaps ten, all of the Render’s Teeth ceased to exist.”

Linden made no effort to conceal her astonishment. Again she asked. “How?”

For a moment, no one responded. Then Liand cleared his throat. “Linden,” he said uncomfortably. “to our sight, it appeared that he devoured them.”

In that instant, the chill of the night air overtook the warmth of the fire. A shiver of hope or foreboding ran down Linden’s spine, and her limbs ached suddenly as though she had fallen back into the cruel winter where she had been betrayed.

Linden tightened her grip on the Staff. -devoured them. All of those monsters: the entire horde. Hardly aware of what she did, she drew a subtle current of Earthpower from among the runes to counteract the cold touch of dread and desire. A man who could do that-Then she forced herself to look around at her friends.

It was plain that Liand understood what he had told her no better than she did.

Stave and the Ramen met her gaze. Anele had turned his head away; shifted sideways in his chair so that he could lean his cheek against the wall as if for comfort. His only reaction was a fractured muttering.

“Who is he?” Linden asked.

With a shake of his head, Mahrtiir deferred to Stave.

“None have inquired of him,” Stave replied stolidly. “The Masters permit no one to pass Revelstone’s gates.”

His response surprised Linden further. However, she held the obvious question in abeyance. But he’s still there’?”

“Aye, Chosen,” answered Stave. He remains at no great distance, warming his hands by a small fire which he does not replenish, yet which continues to burn. He appears to neither eat nor sleep. Rather it would seem that he merely waits.”

Linden caught her breath; held it briefly. She had seen a fire that did not need to be fed, and beside it a figure patiently motionless. Her mind raced as ideas reeled into new alignments. The Earth was vast, and inhabited by beings and powers which she had never encountered. The Land’s present as well as its past held mysteries. She could not be sure that she knew what a waiting figure beside a steady fire signified.