Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

A moment passed before Linden realised that all of her companions were waiting for her decision.

“All right.” She had already made up her mind. “I want to hear what he has to say. But I’m not going to agree to anything until we reach the krill . I don’t trust him. I won’t take any chances until I know more.”

The krill responded to wild magic. She had the Staff of Law. And if she found Thomas Covenant among the Dead-

One way or another, she meant to end Jeremiah’s suffering.

Her answer appeared to satisfy Liand, although he did not relax his distrust of the Harrow.

“So how do we get across?” she asked Stave and Mahrtiir. “Can the Ranyhyn carry us? Is there a ford?”

She was already familiar with the prowess of the Giants. The weight of their armour and swords would not hinder them.

The Manethrall snorted at the mere suggestion that the horses might not be able to bear their riders through the river; and Stave said, “In Andelain, the current of the Soulsease is gentle. There will be no difficulty.”

As if to demonstrate his assertion, he sent Hynyn down the riverbank and into the water. For a few strides, Hynyn kept his footing. Then the stallion began to swim strongly.

Galt followed at once. Crossing the river, the company would be vulnerable. Clearly he and Stave meant to gain the south bank so that they could protect Linden and the others if the Harrow contemplated an attack.

“Swordmainnir!” called the Ironhand with a laugh. “Here is opportunity for refreshment. Never let it be said that Giants shun clear water and cleansing!”

At once, she plunged into the Soulsease with her comrades behind her, chuckling as they forged ahead. Without warning, Grueburn threw a splash of water in Cabledarm’s face. Stonemage responded by drenching Bluntfist. But their play did not slow them. In spite of their mirth, they carried their swords drawn.

Mahrtiir and Narunal entered the river after the Giants. Bhapa and Pahni, and then Clyme and Branl, positioned themselves around Linden, Liand, and Anele as they followed the Manethrall.

When the water hit Linden’s legs, she caught her breath. The Soulsease was colder than she had expected. But it did not resemble the winter which she had experienced with Roger and the croyel . The river was distilled springtime; the eagerness of fertility and flowing after winter’s long sleep. Its touch conveyed hints of the world’s renewal. And Hyn passed through it easily, thrusting ahead when her hooves could find the bottom, swimming with her head held high when they could not.

Surging up from the watercourse, Stave and Galt greeted the Harrow. If he granted them a reply, Linden did not hear it. Motionless on his destrier, he did not so much as incline his head to the Haruchai - or to the Swordmainnir when they splashed out of the river and surrounded him. This is an un-looked-for meeting,” Coldspray announced. “Declare yourself, stranger.” But the Harrow’s answer-if he gave one-did not reach Linden. Encircled by swords, he appeared to do nothing except wait for the arrival of his desires.

A fading glow still held the sky as Hyn gained the riverbank; heaved herself and her rider out of the Soulsease. The evening was too early for stars. And the Harrow had placed himself beneath the outspread shadows of a broad oak at the water’s edge. Linden saw him as little more than a deeper blackness in the coming night. His leather apparel seemed to muffle or diffuse his aura; mask his intentions.

His destrier was more tangible. The beast was a gelding as massive and tall as Mhornym. It champed at its bit and fretted while its master sat without moving. Occasional quivers ran through its muscles like small galvanic shocks, jolts of excitement or terror. But its tension did not trouble the Harrow. Instead his mount’s disquiet only made him look more unpredictable and dangerous.

Stave and Mahrtiir moved to escort Linden as she advanced. The Soulsease had carried her eastward: she faced the Harrow with the last of the sunset in her eyes. Some of the Swordmainnir stepped aside to watch over Liand, Anele, and the Cords, but Coldspray, Grueburn, and Stonemage continued to confront the Insequent with their weapons ready.

Poised for battle, the Humbled regarded him impassively. He had already defeated them once. He had done so without difficulty. Yet Linden recognised that his physical strength did not equal theirs. His prowess was external in some fashion: an expression of acquired theurgy rather than of innate might. He wore his magicks like a form of raiment, as elaborate and distinctive as his leather garb.

When she reached the verge of the oak’s shade, she asked Hyn to stop. She wanted to keep her distance. She could not see his eyes, but she was sure that he could see hers-and those of her companions. He had vowed that he would not make a second attempt to swallow her mind. He had called on his fellow Insequent to ensure that he kept his word. However, he had not promised to refrain from threatening her friends.

Mahrtiir and Anele were safe. The intransigence of the Haruchai might protect them from a fall into the Harrow’s bottomless gaze. Even the Giants might be able to resist. But Liand, Bhapa, and Pahni had no defence. If the Harrow wanted leverage-

Time seemed to stretch as though it might tear. The darkness under the oak became all darkness despite the faint light beyond the shadows. The Giants shifted their feet, waiting for Linden to speak. The destrier stamped one hoof restively.

Linden secured her grip on the Staff. With one hand, she touched Covenant’s ring through the fabric of her shirt.

“Say something,” she demanded. “I’m here. It’s your move.”

The Harrow laughed softly. “Be welcome in Andelain, lady.” His voice held the fertile depth of damp loam. Unlike Esmer, he had suffered no apparent damage in their earlier struggle. “You will find much to delight and surprise you in this bourne of peace.”

He may have been mocking her.

“Don’t play games with me,” she retorted. “Peace” isn’t one of your strengths. Get to the point.”

He laughed again, a low rustle like the sound of canvas sliding over stone. “Is it not sufficient that I am able to enter Andelain? Must I refrain from the enjoyment of loveliness because Kastenessen and the mere -son and your perished love’s scion cannot share my pleasure?”

Linden started to reply, then stopped herself. Roger was blocked from Andelain? And Esmer? She had hoped for that, but Esmer had not said so explicitly.

Then why did the Harrow hold back? He was in no danger of any kind. Why did he taunt her instead of bargaining?

Implied threats scraped across her nerves. At that moment, however, her certainty was greater than her alarm. She was so close to her goal-

Apart from Stave and the Humbled, all of her companions were taut, apprehensive; braced for danger. In spite of their concerns, she forced herself to relax her shoulders and breathe more slowly.

“All right,” she said as if she had become calm. “I’m confused. I know why you’re here. What I don’t know is how. Why didn’t the Wraiths stop you? Or the krill ? If they can forbid Kastenessen, how did you get in?”

The Harrow did not answer. His emanations suggested that he was not paying attention.

Linden thought that she heard a distant sound which did not belong to evening in Andelain. But it was too elusive to be identified; and then it was gone.

“Mayhap, Chosen,” Stave offered, “he was not prevented because he is not a being of power. His theurgy is that of knowledge. It does not reside within him.”

Even Longwrath was possessed by a kind of magic: the ability to slough off his shackles whenever he wished.