Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

Before the Theomach could reply, Linden intervened. She suspected that Covenant’s vehemence was a ploy, a diversion; and she had no intention of permitting it to distract her. He still had not come to the point of his explanation.

“Covenant,” she asked sharply. “when is this? How far back did you bring us’?”

Jeremiah gave her a quick, troubled glance, then looked away again. After studying his useless toy for a moment, he put it away in the waistband of his ruined pyjamas.

With a shrug, Covenant seemed to dismiss his anger. He sounded almost nonchalant as he said. “Ten thousand years. Give or take.”

Ten thousand-? Ten thou -?

Still Linden kept her face blank. And if the Theomach hadn’t interfered?” she persisted. “If we were where you wanted? When would that be?’

“Five hundred years after all this.” He indicated Berek’s struggle in the east. “Roughly. I haven’t actually counted. It isn’t worth the effort.”

She stared at him. Her voice rose in spite of her determination to contain herself. “So if we were doing this the way you wanted, we would still be nine and a half thousand years away from where we belong?”

“It isn’t just the time, Mom,” Jeremiah offered as though he wanted to placate her. “It’s the whole situation.”

Covenant nodded. “That’s right. Time is only part of the problem. We’re also not supposed to be here . We’re supposed to be over there .” He pointed past her thin glimpse of the forest. “On the other side of Garroting Deep. Ninety leagues or so, if we could fly.

“But of course we can’t,” he said acidly. “And we can’t go through the Deep. So we’ll have to go around. All the way around. Which is more like two hundred leagues. Up through the Westron Mountains. In the dead of winter. Without food or warm clothes or horses. And we can’t take any shortcuts because the bloody Theomach won’t let us. He’s afraid we might change history.”

“With good cause,” remarked the Theomach ambiguously. “Other puissant beings occupy this age of the Land. And the forces at your command are misplaced here. Any encounter threatens a disturbance of Time which I will be unable to contain. You cannot safely attain your goal except upon the path that I have prepared for you-the path of the lady’s choices and desires.

“Even you, Halfhand, with your daring and folly,” the man stated, “even you must endeavour to avoid or mislead notice.”

“Oh, thanks.” Covenant snorted bitterly. “I didn’t realise that. I feel so much better now.”

“Covenant, stop,” Linden put in. “You can complain as much as you want later. You still haven’t explained anything. You haven’t told me why. What can you possibly hope to accomplish this far from where we belong? You said that you know how to save the Land.” And Jeremiah. “Why do we have to be thousands of years and hundreds of leagues away from where were needed?”

The Unbeliever gave her a look dark with resentment, then turned his head away. “The Theomach is right about one thing,” he muttered. “If we can get there, we might still be able to do it.” He sighed heavily. But what I wanted-

“Ah, hell.” With an air of disgust, he seemed to concede defeat. “I was aiming for the time of Damelon. High Lord Damelon Giantfriend, Berek’s son. I wanted to catch him when he reaches Melenkurion Skyweir. Right before he figures out how to get at what he’s looking for.

“I was planning to sneak in behind him. Before he started thinking of ways to keep people out. Between the two of us, Jeremiah and I can do that, no matter how much lore he has. Then we could just hide until he left. That would leave us free to do whatever we wanted.”

With difficulty, Linden swallowed an impulse to yell at him. “I still don’t understand,” she insisted. “What’s so important about Melenkurion Skyweir? What’s Damelon looking for? Damn it, Covenant, you told me that you know what to do, you talk and talk, but you don’t explain anything.”

Keeping his face turned away, Covenant answered. “The Skyweir is on the other side of Garroting Deep. It’s the biggest mountain in the west. Somewhere deep inside it are the springs that form the Black River. That’s another reason Caerroil Wildwood is so strong. The Black River feeds him. It carries a lot of power. Because one of its springs is the Blood of the Earth.”

While Linden’s mind reeled, Covenant drawled over his shoulder, “Drinking the EarthBlood gives the Power of Command. Hellfire, Linden, I must have told you that.”

Then he announced grimly, “I intend to use the Power of Command to stop Foul. I’m going to do what I would have done if you hadn’t created that damn Staff. I’m going to freeze time around him. And around Kastenessen while I’m at it. Encase them in temporal ice. That way, I can finally put a stop to all these atrocities without risking the Arch.”

At last, the cold found its way through Linden’s clothes to her heart. You must be the first to drink of the EarthBlood. Esmer had known exactly what Covenant and Jeremiah had in mind.

The cold seemed to speak directly to Linden: she saw its uncompromising beauty. Certainly it could kill her. It had no pity. And she was not dressed warmly enough to contain her body’s inadequate heat. The sensation of fire that Covenant had given to her was slipping away. Already shivers began to rise through her undefended flesh. Soon she would lose control of her limbs; or she would have to implore Covenant to succour her again.

Nevertheless the austerity and precision of the cold gave it a numinous glory. The sunlit crystalline untrammelled brilliance of the snow on all sides defined the contours of the hilltop as distinctly as etch-work in purest glass. The air itself might have been glass. Every slope and crest around her seemed to burn as though it were afire with cold.

And winds had shaped and sculpted the crust as it melted and refroze repeatedly between day and night. She could see delicate, dazzling whorls everywhere; sastrugi as scalloped and articulate as hieroglyphs or runes; ridges and hollows as suggestive as the elaborate surface of the sea. With every step that she and Covenant and Jeremiah had taken, or would take, they marred instances of the most casual and frangible loveliness.

Covenant had not stopped speaking: he seemed unaware that she heeded a voice other than his. Trenchant with bitterness, he was saying. Of course, the Elohim could have done the same thing, saved us all this trouble, if they weren’t so damn self-absorbed. And if they didn’t object to messing around with time. That was Kastenessen’s original crime. They Appointed him to contain the skurj because he shared himself with a mortal lover, gave her some of who he was. He wanted her with him, so he gave her the power to stay young. To defy time. To use magicks like his. So naturally the Elohim took offense.”

With her health-sense, Linden felt each probing finger of winter as it found its way through her garments to touch her skin with ice. If she had known how to interpret the speech of wind and weather, she might have been able to name every avatar of the snow and cold: every flake and crystal, every self-sufficient pattern; every broken and unbreakable rumple in the cloak that covered the hillsides. The stark and brittle branches of the distant forest might have spoken to her.

And if you do all that,” she asked Covenant as if she were unaware of her own voice. “what happens to Jeremiah? Will he be freed? Will he be safe?”

Would she be able to find him?