Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

“Lady,” he said, inclining his head. “Your intervention was indeed timely.” His voice had not lost its loamy richness, in spite of his exertions. “I see with pleasure that you have elected to accept my companionship.”

His quirt had disappeared. He must have concealed it somewhere under his short cloak.

Tightening her grasp on the Staff, Linden forced herself to look away again. “Stave,” she said over her shoulder. “the Woodhelvennin need to keep moving. They have to get out of here.”

Kastenessen had touched Anele. He knew where to send the skurj .

Stave glanced toward the approaching riders, then met her gaze. Through the tumult of hooves, he replied. “The Masters comprehend this. They will not neglect their care for the folk of the Land. The villagers will be urged away. If any remain living when this peril has passed, they will be escorted to Revelstone.”

The ur-viles and Waynhim continued their rasping growls and coughs, cautioning Linden or threatening Esmer and the Harrow in a tongue as indecipherable to her as the language of crows.

“All right.” Slowly Linden faced Esmer and the Harrow once more. With both hands, she gripped the Staff, anchoring herself on Law and Earthpower, blackness and runes. “You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn. You both want something from me, but you aren’t going to get it this way.

“No,” she said to the Insequent. “I don’t accept your companionship. But you don’t care about that. If you did, you wouldn’t have led Esmer here ,” where so many innocent and helpless people might have lost their lives-and might yet die if she did not find a way to defuse the danger. “In a minute, you can justify yourself by telling me why Esmer wants you dead.” As if she were fearless, she glared into the dark tunnels of his eyes. “Right now, you can keep your mouth shut.

“As for you,” she flung at Esmer. “if you think that you absolutely need to destroy the Harrow, you could have found some other way to do it. You didn’t have to drive him straight toward those poor Woodhelvennin. I don’t care how much he scares you. This is just another betrayal.”

Esmer’s face held a torrent of protests and indignation. But when she said the word, “betrayal,” he flinched visibly, and his anger collapsed into consternation, as if she had touched a hidden vulnerability; a concealed self-abhorrence.

“So tell me-” Linden was about to say, Tell me about this service that he claims he can perform. But then she changed her mind. Esmer feared the Harrow’s intentions; therefore he would refuse to explain them. Instead she finished, “Tell me what the ur-viles and Waynhim are saying.”

Amid a clatter of hooves, the Humbled and the Ramen drew near. Immediately Mahrtiir rode to her side, and Bhapa joined her opposite the Manethrall. Mahrtiir’s gaze was fierce, eager to repay First Woodhelven’s ruin, but the plight of the villagers lined Bhapa’s visage.

In a flash of brown limbs and grace, Pahni jumped down to help Liand and Stave boost Anele onto Hrama’s back. Then the three of them remounted their Ranyhyn; and Stave brought Hynyn forward to guard Linden with Mahrtiir and Bhapa.

The ur-viles and Waynhim may have been asking Linden what she wanted them to do.

“I am able to interpret their speech as well as the mere -son,” said the Harrow with a suggestion of smugness. “Though they recognise that you do not comprehend them, they strive to inform you that I possess the knowledge to unmake them. Also they fear my purpose, just as they fear my attacker’s. In the name of their Weird, however, they will give of their utmost to preserve you, ignoring the certainty of failure and doom.”

Linden stared at him. “Wait a minute. You understand them?”

She had made a promise to the Waynhim and the ur-viles. If the Harrow could kill them all-

“Lady,” he replied. “I repeat that I have made a considerable study of such beings. I have pored over the Demondim, as you know, but also over both their makers and their makings. These spawn are corporeal. Therefore they are not as readily unbound as the Demondim. Yet they may be erased from life by one who has gleaned the secrets of their creation.

“Behold.”

With one hand, the Harrow performed a florid gesture as if he were drawing mystic symbols in the air. With the other, he stroked the umber beads of his doublet.

Suddenly one of the ur-viles at the edge of the wedge near him slumped. As he gestured, the creature appeared to sag into itself as if it were being corroded by its own acrid blood. In moments, it had become a frothing puddle of blackness in the ploughed dirt and shale.

From Esmer came a sound like the sighing of water over jagged rocks. A blast seemed to gather around him as if he were mustering seas.

“They will wield dark theurgies against me,” said the Harrow like a shrug. “However, I am not troubled. I have expended much to garner difficult knowledge. It will suffice to ward me.”

What I seek, lady, is to possess your instruments of power.

Far too late, Linden shouted. “ Stop that! God damn you, I promised them!” The liquid remains of the ur-vile bubbled and steamed, denaturing quickly. Soon it had evaporated. “Do it again, and I’ll make a caesure for Esmer to use against you!”

She was bluffing: she could not draw on Covenant’s ring while Esmer stood nearby. Cail’s son knew it. She gambled that the Insequent did not.

In response, he laughed. “A dire threat, lady, but empty. You are known to me. Your desire for the service which I am able to perform will outweigh other avowals.”

“Then,” Linden snapped hotly. “you had better explain yourself. And make it fast. If you know me even half as well as you think, you know that I’m sick of being manipulated. I am not going to put up with it. ”

He had already cost her the Mahdoubt. He had put the villagers in danger to obtain her aid against the Fall; to coerce her. Now he had slain an ur-vile. And by summoning the Demondim, Esmer had caused the deaths of dozens of Masters, ur-viles, and Waynhim. He had helped Roger and the croyel snatch her out of her proper time. Clearly he had been willing to cause the deaths of the Woodhelvennin in order to snare the Harrow.

Moving slowly, Liand brought Rhohm to Mahrtiir’s side. In his hand, he still cupped the orcrest . The Sunstone shone again: it burned like a clean star in his palm, brilliant and ineffable. Its white light seemed to exalt him, limning both his youth and his resolve.

“Perhaps a test of truth, Linden’?” he suggested. His voice shook, but his hand held steady.

Behind Linden, Pahni radiated apprehension. Yet she stayed with Anele, watching over the old man while he slept on Hrama’s back.

“ No! ” Esmer shouted in a voice that resounded as though it echoed back to him from tall cliffs. “Uncaring Insequent, your purpose is an abomination!” Energy accumulated around him, imminent and potent. If he released it, it would hit like a cyclone. “You will not speak.”

The Harrow cocked a scornful eyebrow. “How will I be prevented? Your power is great, mere -son. You have inherited much. Doubtless I might be slain, were I unable to step aside. Yet here there is no caesure to constrain me. Undisturbed by such forces, I may pass where and how I will. Strike as you choose. I will not remain to receive your blow.”

“Flee if you dare,” countered Esmer. “I am the descendant of Elohim . I will harry you to the outermost verge of the Earth.”

“You will not,” the Harrow snorted. “You are bound to the lady. Also you are no true Elohim . Your mortal blood cannot withstand her Staff. She will defend me because she must. She greatly desires my service. And when her fire is raised against you, it will scour you to the marrow of your bones. If you do not perish, you will be made helpless, for good or ill.”