Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

“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 fulfilment 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 recognise 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 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 succour.”

Stave bowed gravely. His flat mien concealed his reactions. But Mahrtiir said gruffly, “It is well. I doubt neither the valour 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 Mahdoubt. Everyone that she had encountered, everything that she had learned or done, since Roger had first taken Jeremiah from her, she endeavoured 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 recognise-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.

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.