Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

For a while, Linden caught no glimpse of the Humbled and Bhapa. Under the midday sun, however, she eventually saw Clyme waiting ahead of her. Apparently he had decided that the time had come to rest the Ranyhyn while their riders ate a quick meal.

His bleeding had stopped. Aided, perhaps, by treasure-berries, his native toughness had reasserted itself. Even while he rode, his wounds healed slowly.

Before Pahni and Liand allowed Anele to dismount, Linden took a moment to study the grass. All around her, many varieties grew together. Some resembled the lush wealth of the Verge of Wandering. But among more luxuriant greens were streaks and swaths of the raw-edged scrub grass which covered the hills and slopes of the Mithil valley: the grass on which the old man was vulnerable to Lord Foul.

Here Anele needed protection.

Instead of insisting that he remain on Hrama, she decided to test the effectiveness of the blankets. At her request, Pahni unrolled the thick pad and guided Anele onto it from Hrama’s back.

Warded by wool, the old man showed no sign of possession. His fractured muttering was disturbed only by his discomfort at Clyme’s nearness.

The horizons remained clear. When Linden questioned Clyme, he reported no indication of danger. He and Bhapa had found evidence of Roger’s army’s trek toward First Woodhelven. For a time, Galt had been able to track Roger and his remaining Cavewights eastward. But nothing stirred to threaten the riders-unless it was concealed by the glamour which had enabled Roger’s forces to take Linden’s company by surprise.

She might have felt relief. Perhaps she should have. Apparently Roger was indeed reduced without the aid and knowledge of the croyel. Alone, he could not simply bypass time or space: he was forced to travel by more ordinary means.

But his limitations confirmed that he had set out to intercept her several days before Kastenessen had touched Anele. Conceivably Roger had begun to lead his army westward as soon as he and Jeremiah had returned to their proper time. Kastenessen may have precipitated Roger’s attack; but Roger and his forces must have already been poised to strike. Hidden by glamour- extending as it does to conceal so many - he must have been waiting for her along her most direct route toward Andelain.

She had told him what her intentions were; forewarned him-

Nevertheless he had lost too many Cavewights to challenge her again soon. He knew her power. He knew that scores of ur-viles and Waynhim remained willing to serve her. And he no longer had the support of the croyel . He would need time to rally more of Kastenessen’s-or Lord Foul’s-allies.

Therefore-Linden swore under her breath. Therefore the next attack would probably come from the skurj .

In spite of everything that she had learned and suffered, she was inadequate to her task. If she were wiser, or stronger, or calmer-When the battle ended yesterday, she should have tried to catch Roger while he was still within reach, and vulnerable. That might have forced Kastenessen to hesitate. But she had been consumed by desperation and killing; exhaustion and remorse. She had missed her chance. Now she could only hope to outrun the maddened Elohim ’s malice.

When she and her companions were mounted, ready to ride, she described her concerns. Then she told Clyme, “We’ll need as much warning as possible. You and Bhapa have to be able to ride as far and as fast as you can. We need you at your best.”

With difficulty, she restrained an impulse to demand, So heal , damn it. Or let me help you. You aren’t much good like this.

His hurts were as unmistakable as groans.

Clyme faced her without expression. For a moment, he appeared to be waiting for her to say more; to speak her wishes aloud so that he could refuse her. Then he gave a slight nod. Urging Mhornym to greater speed with every stride, he rode away.

Abruptly Mahrtiir growled, “The Ringthane speaks sooth. Yet needful tasks in which the Ramen have no equal I cannot now perform. Cord Pahni, you also must watch over this company, that no sign or hint which may elude the sleepless ones will be missed. The Stonedownor and Stave will care for Anele.”

Pahni flung a look like pleading at Liand, urging him to be safe, before she sent Naharahn into a gallop after Clyme. Behind her, the remaining Ranyhyn began to run, carrying their riders with the swift ease of birds toward Andelain and the Land’s threatened heart.

While the great horses pounded the steppe, Linden prayed that she would be able to reach the Hills and Loric’s krill in time; and that she would find Thomas Covenant and hope among the Dead.

Eventually the steppe modulated into a region of rugged, stony hills like glacial moraines. Although the horses found passage along the valleys, the littered ground forced them to slow their pace. When they finally emerged from the hills toward gentler terrain, the sun was setting.

Linden did not doubt that the Ranyhyn could travel confidently in darkness. Nevertheless she called a halt on the last of the granite debris. Temporarily, at least, her concern for Anele outweighed her desire for haste. She did not yet entirely trust his pad of blankets. Loose stone would guard him from possession as well as restore a measure of his sanity.

Mumbling to himself, he began to pick through the igneous refuse as if he were seeking a particular kind of rock; specific memories. But whenever he found a bit of granite, or schist, or obsidian that seemed to interest him, he studied it briefly, then cast it aside and resumed his search.

As Liand and Stave unpacked supplies and set out bedding, Bhapa and Pahni emerged from the dusk. They had found no cause for concern within a league of the company, and the Humbled had instructed them to rejoin their companions for food and rest. If the Manethrall approved, Bhapa and Pahni proposed to take turns standing watch atop the nearest of the hills. The Humbled and the Ranyhyn would form a more distant cordon around the company.

Mahrtiir nodded. “It is well. Let it be so.” He sounded vexed, as though the Cords had disappointed him. But Linden understood that his ire was not directed at them. Rather he was galled by his comparative helplessness. As long as Linden or Liand renewed his health-sense regularly, he would remain capable of much. Still his abilities were irretrievably compromised.

Seeking to distract him while Pahni helped Liand prepare a meal, Linden said. “I’m worried, Mahrtiir. We’re pushing the Ranyhyn pretty hard. How much longer can they keep this up?”

Mahrtiir squatted among the stones until she sat down facing him. Then he said, “Do not mistake them, Ringthane. They are far from the bounds of their endurance. Many are the great deeds that they have performed at need. I will speak of one, though it is a tale which no Ramen witnessed. We heard of it from those few Haruchai who chose to serve the Ranyhyn during Fangthane’s unnatural winter, when the Vow of the Bloodguard had been broken.”

Linden settled herself to listen. Liand and Pahni did not pause in their tasks, but their attention was turned toward the Manethrall. Liand was always eager for tales of the Land’s past; and all Ramen loved to speak and hear of the great horses.

“In the years preceding the last siege of Revelstone,” Mahrtiir told the evening and his own darkness. “a silence had fallen over Seareach, and all who loved the Land were troubled by it. No Giants walked the Upper Land to gladden the heart with their friendship and their ready laughter. Nor did the Unhomed send word of their plight in The Grieve. Therefore two Lords and a party of Bloodguard set out for Seareach, to discover what had befallen the Giants.”