Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

Esmer’s and the Harrow’s threats were loud. Linden spoke softly. “A test of truth. I like it.” I wish I could spare you. Hell, I wish any of us could spare you. The thought that she might be risking Liand’s life made her heart quail, but she betrayed no hesitation. “Does one of you want to volunteer? Should I choose for you?”

She had no idea what would happen. As far as she knew, both Liand and the orcrest would crumble. But she needed to counter the animosity between Esmer and the Harrow. She had to understand their fear or loathing toward each other. And she wanted at least one of them to give her an honest explanation.

She thought that she saw a flicker of uncertainty in the shrouded emerald of Esmer’s gaze. His incipient storm wavered. And the Harrow seemed troubled by her proposal.

Or by something else-

Unexpectedly Galt announced. It is needless to hazard the Stonedownor, or the orcrest .” He and the other Humbled had joined Linden’s defenders. He spoke to her, although his gaze was fixed on the Harrow. “This Insequent has defeated us once. But he has forgotten that Brinn of the Haruchai surpassed ak-Haru Kenaustin Ardenol in single combat. Knowing the Harrow, we will not again fail against him.”

Linden expected Esmer and the Harrow to react with scorn; but she was wrong. Suddenly vindicated or alarmed, Esmer took a few steps backward. Ignoring Galt, the Harrow turned the caves of his eyes to the east, past Linden and her companions.

With an air of insouciance, the Insequent informed the empty air, “This is a petty chicane. You are indeed reduced without the aid and knowledge of the croyel . I concede that your glamour is potent, extending as it does to conceal so many. But such ploys do not become you. If you claim the stature to stand among this company, more valour will be required of you.”

“Talk’s cheap, asshole,” retorted Roger.

Twenty or thirty paces in the direction of the Harrow’s gaze, Covenant’s son appeared as if he had stepped through an imperceptible portal.

“Run while you can,” he continued. As he unveiled himself to her senses, Linden felt the seething rage of his right hand, Kastenessen’s hand; magma and fury free of dross, distilled down to their essential savagery. If you don’t, I’m going to fry your bones. Then I think we’ll all eat that silly horse of yours.”

He did not have Jeremiah with him. Still Linden’s heart ached as if she had been spurned.

“Indeed?” The Harrow’s tone was a snarl of mockery. The lady will not permit it. And I will aid her against you, as will these many Demondim-spawn.”

“I know ,” Roger spat. “That’s why I didn’t come alone.”

With a gesture that left a reeking wail across Linden’s sight, he unwrapped his glamour from an army of Cavewights.

Instinctively she cried out for power; and the Staff answered with a clarion spout of flame.

She had seen such creatures before, in the Wightwarrens under Mount Thunder. They were formed for delving, with huge spatulate hands like mattocks and heads that resembled battering rams; disproportionately long scrawny limbs; hunched torsos and protruding ribs. Standing erect, they were nearly as tall as Giants. Because their arms and legs were so thin, she might have expected them to be weak; but she already knew their strength. Although they could crawl in improbable spaces, they were mighty diggers, able to gouge and crush rocks in their fingers. Their heavy jaws may have been capable of chewing stone. The ruddy heat of the Earth’s depths filled their eyes like molten granite.

Roger Covenant had brought at least two hundred Cavewights with him, ready for battle. They wore crude armour fashioned from thick plates of stone lashed together. And they were all armed. Some bore spears and bludgeons: others hefted hacking broadswords as brutal as claymores.

Linden had expected the skurj , not Roger and Cavewights. But she had told him that she planned to head for Andelain. He could assume that she would essay the most direct route from Revelstone. Certainly he had had plenty of time to position his forces. And Kastenessen had touched Anele: the Elohim knew precisely where she was.

Like Esmer, Roger meant to block the Harrow’s intentions. If Covenant’s son-and therefore Kastenessen-had wished only to prevent her from reaching Andelain, he would not have come when other powers might defend her.

The skurj might not be far behind-

Linden’s flame rose higher, leaping into the heavens.

As if on command, Hrama and Naharahn brought Anele and Pahni close to Linden. Liand was pushed toward her as Stave and the Humbled quickly formed a cordon around the most vulnerable members of their company. At the same time, Mahrtiir and Bhapa charged at Roger and the Cavewights, two against two hundred-

In the distance, the Woodhelvennin watched the onset of battle. The Masters among them may have urged them to flee. If so, they paid no heed.

Desperately Linden prepared a scourge of fire. But she could not choose a target: she was torn between her rage at Roger and her frantic desire to protect the Ramen.

Narunal and Whrany pounded toward the army. The Cavewights responded with a cacophonous shriek. From Roger’s right hand came a spew of hot theurgy like a bolt of fluid stone. It would have slain the two Ranyhyn and their riders instantly; should have slain them. Yet Narunal and Whrany veered aside, supernally swift, as if they had foreseen Roger’s attack. His blast hit the ground, sending an eruption of flint and shale into the air, charring the dirt as if the soil were leaves and twigs. It did not touch flesh.

A heartbeat later, the Manethrall and his Cord sprang from their mounts with their garrotes ready. They leapt past two of the leading Cavewights; wrapped their weapons around the Cavewights’ necks as they passed. Their momentum jerked the cords taut. Then they stood on the backs of the creatures, using the strength of their legs to strangle the Cavewights.

Mahrtiir’s opponent reached up with both hands to snatch the Manethrall from its back. But before the long fingers found Mahrtiir, Narunal reared, slamming his hooves into the creature’s chest. As the Cavewight toppled backward, its neck snapped. Mahrtiir dropped to the ground, unscathed amid an enraged throng of creatures.

Whrany endeavoured to give Bhapa similar aid, but the vicious thrust of another Cavewight’s spear forced the Ranyhyn to dance aside. Then Whrany whinnied sharply: a warning. As the creature that Bhapa was trying to throttle grabbed for him, the Cord released his grip and jumped toward his mount-and a bludgeon which would have crushed him struck the Cavewight’s skull instead.

Now Linden burned to defend the Ramen. Mahrtiir was about to be trampled: a spear would spit Bhapa if a swinging broadsword did not catch Whrany first. But Roger had already mustered another quarrel of magma. If she did not strike at him-

“ Linden! ” Liand yelled.

Instantly she was surrounded by flaring powers and combat.

Behind her, the ur-viles and Waynhim had rearranged themselves into three wedges. One hurled a lurid splash of vitriol at the Harrow. Another struck Esmer with concussions like the spasms of an earthquake. And from the third, a volley of blackness roared over Linden’s head to fall, howling, toward Roger. He was compelled to redirect his blast so that he would not be incinerated.

The Harrow seemed momentarily surprised by his danger. Wherever he was struck, his chlamys, doublet, and leggings caught fire. But with one hand he swept the flames away: with the other he rubbed his beads in an intricate pattern. Then he began to gesture urgently, muttering incantations.