Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

Before Linden could press him, he added, “You need not name your query. You wish to hear what it is that I beheld within you.

“Our conjoining was severed when we emerged from the Fall, and I became myself again. Yet while we were one, I participated in your love for your son, and for Thomas Covenant. I was filled with your fear and pain, your extremity and desperation. I shared your resolve, which is greater than valour or might.” Liand did not hesitate now, or hold back. “And I saw that you have it within you to perform horrors. You have known the blackest cruelty and despair, and are able to inflict your full dismay upon any who may oppose you.

“This is the knowledge that you seek,” he concluded. “is it not?”

Facing the unwritten stone, Linden groaned to herself: she may have groaned aloud. Was Covenant Jeremiah’s puppet? Were they both puppets? Or did the fault lie in her? Liand, she believed, had answered those questions. In Covenant’s name, she had prevailed against moksha Jehannum and the Sunbane; but Liand seemed to say that she had never truly healed the capacity for evil which Lord Foul’s servants had exposed in her. Her inability to understand or trust Covenant and Jeremiah now was her failure, not theirs.

Softly, speaking more to the wall than to Liand, she breathed, “And yet you’re still my friend.”

“How could I be otherwise?” returned the Stonedownor. “It is possible that your loves will bind your heart to destruction, as the Mahdoubt has warned. It may be that you will repeatedly seek to accomplish good through evil means, as you have done before. But I am myself now, and I am not afraid. I no longer retain all that I have known of you. Yet I have known your loves, and in their name, I am proud to be both your companion and your friend.”

Helplessly Linden sagged forward, bracing her forehead against the cool stone. A cloudburst of weeping advanced on her across the convoluted terrain of her confusion; and she could not bear it. Covenant had as much as said that he did not trust her-and Liand had told her that the Unbeliever had good reason for his caution-and yet she heard nothing in Liand’s tone except unalloyed candour. He was proud-

She might not have been able to fend off her grief; but abruptly Anele spoke. “Anele has been made free of them ,” the old man announced with unmistakable satisfaction. “And”- he turned his head from side to side in a way that suggested surprise- “the dark things, the creatures lost and harsh, demanding remembrance-Anele no longer fears them. He has been spared much.”

The unexpected sound of his voice helped her to step back once more from her clamouring emotions.

He sat on wrought stone, with his bare feet on the polished granite of the floor. As a result, he was in one of the more coherent phases of his madness. He may have understood more than he appeared to grasp. Indeed, he may have been trying in his distorted fashion to reassure Linden.

To some extent, at least, he had already demonstrated the truth of his assertion that he was the Land’s last hope . He had made possible the recovery of the Staff.

“For my part,” Mahrtiir put in while Linden mastered herself, “I aver that there is no surprise in the knowledge which the Stonedownor has gleaned.” The Manethrall’s voice was gruff with unaccustomed tenderness. “Breathes there a being in the Land, or upon the wide Earth, who does not nurture some measure of darkness? Surely Esmer would not be drawn to you as he is, did he not behold in you an aspect of his own torment. And has it not been repeated endlessly of the white gold wielder that he will save or damn the Land? That which Liand has witnessed in you alters nothing.”

Bracing herself on the strength of her friends, Linden set aside her bewilderment and loss; her self-doubt. She could not forget such things. They would affect all of her choices and actions. But the faith of her friends restored her ability to contain herself; to say what needed to be said.

When she had wiped her face once more with the sleeve of her shirt, she turned back toward Stave, Liand, Anele, and the Ramen.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “All of you. The things that I have to tell you are hard for me.” And she still needed to hear what had happened to her companions while she had been with Covenant and Jeremiah. “But I think I can do it now”- she attempted a smile- “without being too messy about it.”

Summoning her frayed courage, she pulled a chair close to the table so that she would be able to reach the tray of food. When she had seated herself, poured a flagon of springwine, and taken a few swallows, she met the expectant stares of her friends and began.

She said nothing about Esmer: she trusted that Mahrtiir had told the tale of Esmer’s recent appearance. Embarrassed on Covenant’s behalf, she made no mention of his drinking. And she glossed over his apparently aimless comments about Berek Halfhand and Kevin Landwaster. In retrospect, Covenant’s description of Kevin seemed whetted with foreboding. With so much peril crowding around her and her companions, Linden heard prophecy in Kevin’s plight. He wanted to be punished- But on that subject, she swallowed her fears.

Everything else, however, she conveyed with as much clarity as she could command: Covenant’s strangeness, and Jeremiah’s; the self absorbed and stilted relationship between them; the discrepancy between them and her memories of them; the oblique inadequacy and occasional scorn of their answers. Hugging the Staff to her chest, she admitted that Covenant had asked for his ring-and that she had not complied. With difficulty, she acknowledged that the blame for her reluctance and distress might lie in her. And she finished by telling her friends that Covenant had asked her for something in return . A little bit of trust.

Then I won’t have to explain what I’m going to do. I can show you.

“There’s only one other thing that I can tell you,” she concluded thinly. “They don’t love me anymore. They’ve changed too much. That part of them is gone.”

Finally a wash of lassitude seemed to carry away her last strength. The effort of holding her emotions at bay had wearied her; and she found that she needed the sustenance of aliantha in springwine-and needed as well at least a modicum of numbness. When she had emptied half of her flagon, she took a little fruit and chewed it listlessly. As she did so, she kept her head down, avoiding the uncertainty and trepidation of her friends.

For a long moment, they faced her in silence. They had stopped eating: they seemed almost to have stopped breathing. Then Liand asked cautiously, “If the Unbeliever seeks your aid in his intent, will you give it?”

Linden jerked up her head. She had not considered the possibility-But of course Liand’s question made sense. Why else had Covenant come here, bringing Jeremiah with him? Certainly he wanted his ring. However, he was prepared for the chance-the likelihood? — that she would refuse: he had said so. Then why had he asked for a show of trust? I know another way to make this mess turn out right. He and Jeremiah could have simply dismissed her and put his other plans into effect-unless those plans required her participation.

Meet us up on the plateau tomorrow.

“I have to,” she answered slowly. “I already know that I won’t like what they want me to do. But if I don’t cooperate, I’ll never learn the truth. About either of them.”

In fact, she could not imagine refusing them. They wanted her aid in some way. They had reason to be afraid of her. And they would not let her touch them.

The truth had become as vital to her as her son’s life.