Stephen Donaldson - Fatal Revenant

Where we are, Linden thought with a forlorn ache. Apart from Yellinin, she had not seen an ordinary human being for more than three days of abrading cold. On her right, the Centre Plains were a bitter wasteland, snow-cloaked and featureless as far as she could see: a tangible avatar of the gelid loneliness within a caesure , the ruin which represented the ultimate outcome of Joan’s madness. And on her left, the Last Hills raised their heads in forbidding scarps and crags. Some of their lower slopes were mild; others, more rugged. But boulders and bare granite knotted their crests. And all of them were clotted with ice or caked with brittle snow.

She could not wait for the interminable shivering length of another day to pass. She felt too much alone.

When she and her companions had ridden in silence for a time, she said tentatively, “All right. You can stop me if I ask anything dangerous. But this isn’t hard only on you. It’s tough for me, too. You at least have a plan.” Something to look forward to. “I’m just lost.”

She did not want to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere for no reason which she could comprehend.

“If nothing else,” she pleaded. “I need you to talk to me. I need to hear voices.”

Her longing for the companionship of Liand, Stave, the Ramen, and even Anele was so poignant that it closed her throat.

Jeremiah seemed to consult with Covenant, although she heard nothing pass between them. Then he glanced at her sidelong. “That’s OK, Mom,” he replied uncomfortably. “You can ask. Just try to be careful. If the Theomach hears us, a question might cause just as much trouble as an answer.”

His willingness surprised Linden; but she did not want to miss her chance. Striving for caution, she said. “So why does the Theomach care what we do now? Didn’t he get what he wanted?” Obliquely, inadvertently, she had helped him win a place at Berek’s side. “Unless I missed something-”

He claimed that she knew his true name; but she had no idea what it was.

Jeremiah nodded. “He’s done with us.” Apparently he saw no danger in discussing the Insequent. “He’s where he has to be. Where he’s supposed to be. He would have gotten there anyway, but you made it easier for him. He should be grateful.

“But he still wants to protect the Arch. Or he says he does, anyway. He put us here. That makes him responsible for us. If you can believe him, I mean.

“He isn’t worried about you.” Jeremiah’s tone hinted at anger. “You he trusts. And he knows how to cover for you. But he thinks Covenant and I are capable of-ire emphasised the muddy hue of his eyes- “practically anything. He doesn’t understand-” Swallowing convulsively, Jeremiah fell silent. Covenant rode gazing into the distance as if he had no interest in the conversation.

Cover for you? “Understand what?” Linden asked.

Jeremiah curled his hands into fists on his mount’s reins. Fiercely he retorted, He doesn’t understand how hard were trying to do exactly the right thing. Mom, if we deserved what he thinks of us, Covenant wouldn’t have brought me to you in the first place. It isn’t just insulting, it’s so frustrating-”

Again Jeremiah stopped. This time, he made an obvious effort to master himself. When he continued, he sounded sad; pained.

“And it’s a lot worse for Covenant than it is for me. We’ve had to endure too much Earthpower. He’s holding us together. But that’s not all. He’s keeping what’s really happening to me-what Foul is doing to my actual body-” Jeremiah shuddered. “He’s my friend. He’s keeping me from going crazy.”

Then he shrugged unhappily. “I told you I didn’t like the Insequent.”

One called the Vizard had urged him to construct a snare for the Elohim -

His manner made Linden regret her question. “I’m sorry, honey,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you. In a way, I can understand the Theomach’s attitude. I’m your mother, and I forget what you’re going through. You’re so brave about it, you don’t let it show. The truth is”- she searched their shared distress for words- “worse than I can imagine.”

Jeremiah shrugged again. “That’s okay.” Like Covenant, he did not look at her. “Covenant protects me pretty well.” For a moment, his tic conveyed the incongruous impression that he was winking.

Shaken by images of what the Despiser might be doing to her son, she let the hard silence of winter reclaim her. Apart from the occasional faint whisper of the breeze, the only sounds were the erratic thud and crunch of the horses’ hooves, muted when they struck hard snow, sharper when they broke through crusts of ice. The plains and the hills were locked in unrelieved cold: cloudless, brilliant, and punishing. Studying the sky, she found no sign of a change in the weather. Nevertheless the chill grew deeper as the terrain climbed higher. The air scraped at her throat and lungs, and the warmth that she had garnered from Yellinin’s last campfire had been leeched away.

Eventually she would be forced to ask Covenant for heat. Or she would need to separate herself from her companions so that she could draw on the Staff.

Seeking distraction, she sifted her throng of questions for one to which the Theomach could not object. Finally she said, “I was surprised that Berek found so much hurtloam.” And so close to his camp. “I don’t have much experience with it, but I’ve never seen that much hurtloam in one place. Is that normal?” She meant, In this time? “It seemed too good to be true.”

Jeremiah glanced at Covenant. But Covenant rode as though he had not heard her; and after a moment, Jeremiah said. “You don’t know much about the geography of the Land,” as if he were explaining her situation to himself. “You’ve never seen a map. And the Sunbane confused everything.”

Then he seemed to gather his thoughts. “Some of it’s about time. Where we are-I mean, when-there’s more of practically everything. More trees, more Forestals, more griffins, quellvisks , and other monsters, more Cavewights, more powers. Between now and the time where we belong, things get used up. Or killed in Foul’s wars. Or ruined by the Sunbane. Or just lost. But that’s not the main reason.

“Berek found so much hurtloam, and he’s going to keep finding it, because he’s moving toward the Black River. The Black River comes out of Melenkurion Skyweir.”

Linden listened intently. Long ago, she had ridden a raft through the confluence of the Black and Mithil Rivers with Covenant and Sunder. But Covenant had told her only that the Black separated the Centre Plains from the South.

“There are a lot of springs under that mountain,” Jeremiah continued. “They come out together at the base of the cliff. Most of them are just water, but one of them is EarthBlood. It’s only a trickle, but it’s intense - When the Black River pours out into Garroting Deep, it’s full of Earthpower. That’s part of why the Deep is so deadly. Caerroil Wildwood draws some of his strength from the river.

“Of course, it gets diluted. The Black joins the Mithil, and after that you can hardly tell it comes from Melenkurion Skyweir. But the Last Hills are right on the edge of Garroting Deep. From there, the power of the EarthBlood spreads into the plains.

“All that hurtloam is sort of a side effect,” he concluded. “Earthpower has been seeping out of the mountain practically forever. Maybe that’s why the One Forest used to cover the whole Land. Back in those days-ages ago-you could have mined hurtloam along every stream and river in the Centre and South Plains.”

His explanation saddened Linden. While she grieved quietly for what the Land had lost, or would lose, over the millennia, Jeremiah turned to Covenant. “She’s getting cold again,” he observed with more certitude than he usually displayed when he spoke to Covenant. “You have to keep her warm.”