She felt a desire to stop and talk to him, to explain how Covenant had earned her love and gratitude, and why she was prepared to sacrifice anything and everything for Jeremiah. She wanted Liand to understand why she intended to give Covenant as much help as she could, in spite of his strangeness and his scorn and his oblique cruelty. But she resisted the impulse. Covenant had avowed that he knew how to retrieve the Land from Lord Foul’s malice. Liand would learn the truth soon enough: Linden herself would learn it. Then she would no longer feel a need to justify her choices.
Instead of speaking, she tightened her grasp on the Staff; confirmed with her free hand that the immaculate circle of Covenant’s ring still hung on its chain under her shirt. For Revelstone’s sake, she had already missed one opportunity to explore Covenant’s motives and Jeremiah’s plight: she would not miss another.
Because she restrained herself, she and her companions walked in silence. The Ramen had a clearer sense than Liand did of what was at stake, for the Land if not for her: they were enclosed in a tight, expectant concentration. And Stave was Haruchai, too self-contained for unnecessary conversation. Only Anele spoke; but his incoherent mumbling conveyed nothing.
Then Stave touched Linden’s arm. When she glanced at him, she saw that Galt and the Voice of the Masters had turned their steps away from the line of the cliff, angling across a low rise. In that direction, by her estimate, lay the opening of the tunnel which emerged from Revelstone. Presumably Handir and the Humbled aimed to intercept Covenant and Jeremiah there.
With her companions, she followed the two Masters.
Clouds still occluded the dawn, but the thin grey light was enough. From the top of the rise, Linden could see the wide mouth of the Keep gaping to the rain. Just outside the tunnel, Covenant and Jeremiah stood facing toward her, obviously waiting for her.
They were accompanied by Clyme and Branl, as well as by perhaps twenty other Masters.
Vaguely Linden wondered if these Haruchai were all that could be spared from the defence of Revelstone. She still had no idea how many of Stave’s kinsmen occupied Lord’s Keep.
Covenant did not appear to look at her: he held his head down as if he were lost in contemplation. But Jeremiah waved with the enthusiasm of an excited boy.
The sight of his eagerness smote Linden deeply. She should have been delighted; should have felt unalloyed joy at his conscious and willing presence, his show of gladness. But she could not forget that it was his power which had prevented her from touching him in the forehall.
He and Covenant remained impenetrable to her senses.
Involuntarily her heart tightened, and her face settled into a grim frown, as she strode down the hillside to meet the two people whom she most loved-and whom she most wanted to trust.
At her approach, Covenant glanced up once, briefly, then began to walk away from the throat of Revelstone, heading toward Furl Falls. But Jeremiah called happily, “Hi, Mom! It’s time to get started!” before he moved to join Covenant.
Her son’s tattered pajamas were drenched, but he did not appear to feel the cold. She still did not know whether he had been shot.
The Masters arrayed themselves protectively around the Unbeliever and Jeremiah without impeding Linden’s approach. In a few moments, she caught up with them.
Stave walked like a guardian between her and them. Rain pricked at her face and hands. The wind had teeth now, biting through her cloak into her clothes.
Covenant was closer to her, between Stave and Jeremiah. Carefully neutral, as if she were speaking to the weather rather than to Covenant, she said, “I think that I understand why you didn’t want to tell me what you’re planning.” I deserve better than this. I need something in return. “But why did we have to come out here?” She gestured vaguely at the rain. A little bit of trust. “Why couldn’t you show me inside? And why did you have to wait until now?”
Covenant seemed distracted, his thoughts elsewhere. But he did not pretend that he had not heard her. “It isn’t going to be easy,” he said absently. “We don’t just need distance from the Demondim. We need a smoke screen. Like the Earthpower coming out of Glimmermere. If they catch even a whiff of what we’re doing-” For a moment, his voice faded. Then he added, “But that’s not the only problem. There are other forces that might try to stop us. We needed time to prepare for them.”
“What “forces”?” asked Linden. “You said something like that last night, but you didn’t explain.”
He kept his head down, studying the soaked grass. “Well, Kastenessen for one. Who knows what the hell Esmer is going to do?” He glanced over at Jeremiah. And you’re forgetting that those ur-viles have manacles.”
Linden missed a step. She could no longer conceive any ill of the Demondim-spawn. After what she had just experienced, his suspicions sounded absurd.
“But if I were you,” he went on before she could pursue the subject, “I’d be more worried about the Elohim. They’ve never trusted me. You remember that.
“Of course,” he said sourly, “you have my ring, which suits them just fine. But that doesn’t mean they won’t try to interfere. They haven’t spent all this time warning people to “beware” of me just for fun.”
“I’ve met them,” Jeremiah offered. “I think they just don’t like it when somebody else is more important than they are.”
By slow degrees, dawn leaked though the receding storm; dissolved the darkness over the plateau. Now stands of trees were visible on either side of the route chosen by the Masters: copses of mimosa and wattle, clustered cedars, all dark, shrouded with rain and full of implied secrets. Any number of lorewise beings could have concealed themselves there, and Linden would have caught no hint of them.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. If Kastenessen wants to stop you, why would the Elohim want the same thing’?” Esmer had told her that they expected her to deal with Kastenessen and the skurj. Are you not the Wildwielder? What then remains to cause the Elohim concern? “They Appointed him to stop the skurj. In fact, they forced him. They made him a prisoner. Why would they want what he wants now?’
“You’re right,” replied Covenant sharply. “You don’t understand.
Especially Kastenessen.”
With elaborate patience, he explained, “You need to realise that he didn’t break his Durance. He didn’t have that much actual power. No, he slipped out. Which he managed to do by becoming part skurj himself.” While Linden stared at him, Covenant muttered as if to himself. “He probably got the idea from Foul. The Despiser loves shit like that.”
Then he resumed his explanation. “Oh, the effect was the same. No more Durance. But the point is, it was hideously painful. Merging with the skurj, even a little bit-It was more painful than you can imagine. Hell and blood, Linden, it probably makes what Jeremiah is going through feel like a picnic.”
“He’s right, Mom,” Jeremiah put in with as much earnestness as his excitement allowed. He was tossing his racecar back and forth between his hands as he walked, catching it deftly with his remaining fingers. “I saw it. Before you came to the Land. It’s horrible. If I ever have to choose”- he shuddered dramatically- “I’ll stay where I am.”
Still studying the rain-matted grass, Covenant nodded. Now Kastenessen is all pain. It’s made him completely insane. There’s nothing else left. And rage is his only outlet. Everything he does is just another way of screaming.
“But he can’t rage hard enough to stop the pain. No one can. Not for long, anyway. So he does what any lunatic does in his situation. He causes himself more pain, trying to make his rage more powerful. Being part skurj isn’t excruciating enough, so he surrounds himself with them, he makes them carry out his rage. And when that doesn’t work, he maims-”
Covenant’s voice trailed away. “Maims what?’ Linden asked at once.
“Himself, of course,” the Unbeliever snorted. “It doesn’t matter what he hurts. All that matters is pain and rage. He’s a walking, talking apotheosis
of pain, and nothing is going to make him sane again. I intend to put him out of his misery, but he just doesn’t understand. He can’t. His pain is all he’s got. He’s terrified of losing it. That’s why he wants to stop me.
“If he figures out what’s about to happen, he’ll go berserk. He can’t bring the skurj against us fast enough to make a difference. But he’s still Elohim: He can show up anywhere in a heartbeat. And you do not want to fight that kind of power.”
Abruptly Covenant stopped; turned so that Linden was forced to face him. Again she saw a glimpse of embers in the depths of his eyes, ruddy and threatening. The strict lines of his visage seemed to challenge her. While Stave watched him warily, and her friends crowded close to hear him, the Unbeliever told her harshly. “That’s what I’ve been doing all night.” He seemed to suggest that she had been wasting her time on trivialities. “Distracting Kastenessen. Confusing him with tricks, like I did to the Demondim.”
All right.” Linden struggled to absorb Covenant’s description. “Now it makes even less sense. If you’re right about Kastenessen”- if his condition resembled Joan’s- “how can the Elohim possibly want what he wants?”
“Damnation.” Covenant wiped at the rain on his face; rubbed the hint of fire out of his eyes. “They have different reasons. Kastenessen is just screaming. He hurts, and he wants to fill the world with it. The Elohim don’t trust me. They never have. As far as they’re concerned, the fact that I’m part of the Arch-that I can do the things I do-is a disaster.
Time is too important to them. Their immortality depends on it. They don’t want anybody who even remembers what death means to have the kind of power I do. So they don’t want me to stop Foul. They’re afraid I might change the shape of the Arch. The shape of their Wurd They’re afraid of what that might cost them.
Of course, they’re wrong. I’m not here to change Time. I protect it. That’s my job. But they don’t believe me.”
“He’s right, Mom,” Jeremiah said again. But he sounded far away, hidden behind Covenant.
A sharp gust snatched back the hood of Linden’s cloak, flung rain into her face. Among the trees, the wind droned with trepidation.
Turning as if in disgust, Covenant strode away. “Come on,” he demanded before Linden could try to understand him. “I can’t keep this up indefinitely. And I can’t do it without you.”
Linden nearly stumbled in surprise. Until that moment, he had not acknowledged that she was important to him; that he sought anything from her except his ring.
She hastened to catch up with him again. But when she did so, she found that he had silenced her. I can’t do it-Realities seemed to shift around her, veering from one uncertainty to another. Over the plateau, the rain declined to a thin drizzle that would have felt as soothing as mist if it had not been driven by the wind. Through the gloom, the advance of daylight gave definition to the landscape, clarifying the contours of the hills, distancing the darkness among the trees. Yet she hardly noticed such things. I can’t-
But first I’ll have to convince Linden- When she had resisted his desire for his ring, however, he had insisted on nothing except a little bit of trust. From that, Liand had inferred that Covenant still had a use for her.
But Covenant himself had said nothing of the kind.
Until now.
As he or the Masters led her past a cluster of gnarled and vaulted jacarandas, Linden caught sight of a river in the distance ahead. There Glimmermere’s outflow gathered rain and small streams in its accelerating rush toward Furl Falls. The wind stung her eyes, forced her to shade them with her free hand. But when she had blinked the blur from her vision, she saw the river clearly. Along the watercourse, the hills seemed to bow down in homage to Glimmermere’s waters. Apart from a few knaggy firs clinging to the rim of the cliff, there were no trees. From the vicinity of the falls, nothing would obstruct her view for a long stone’s throw in any direction.
The terrain offered that advantage.
Findail’s kind, and Kastenessen’s, could appear anywhere, flowing up from the ground without warning, or materialising along the rough wind. And Esmer had inherited some of their abilities. But other foes would be plainly visible. Even the Demondim-and they could not reach the plateau without first defeating Revelstone.
In spite of Covenant’s warnings, however, Linden was only vaguely troubled by the possibility of an attack.
She still felt sustained by vitrim. At need, she might find a way to defend herself and her companions without endangering Covenant and Jeremiah. Under the circumstances, she was more afraid of Covenant’s manner-and of Jeremiah’s strange powers.
I can’t do it-
Neither the Unbeliever nor her son loved her. Covenant had been profoundly altered by his millennia in the Arch of Time. And Jeremiah’s heart was fixed on the man who had made it possible for him to be here.
He was the best.- the only real friend-
And he needed her-Did he have a design for the salvation of the Land? A plan that included her? Good. But if he did not, she still intended to learn the truth about him. And about her tormented son.
Gripping her courage, she descended the last slopes toward the vicinity of Furl Falls.
Covenant brought her within a dozen strides of the riverbank, then stopped. “This’ll do,” he said stiffly to Jeremiah. “Don’t you think’?”
Jeremiah tossed his racecar into the air as if he were testing the force of the wind. Then he tucked the bright red toy into the waistband of his pyjamas. “It feels right. If we can’t do it here, we probably can’t do it at all.”
Covenant nodded. The wind rumpled his hair and tugged at his clothes, making him look as wild and driven as a prophet.
Without apparent hurry, the Masters positioned themselves in an arc that enclosed Covenant, Jeremiah, and Linden’s small company between the riverbank and the edge of the cliff. At the same time, Galt joined Branl, Clyme, and Handir in front of Covenant. He was the ur-Lord, the reincarnation of Berek Halfhand. The Voice of the Masters and the Humbled stood with him. And Linden did not doubt that they remained suspicious of her. They distrusted Earthpower and loss-
Gusts flicked her tresses across her eyes. Pulling back her wet hair, she risked taking a step closer to Covenant. If he wanted a “smoke screen” to disguise his actions, he had chosen his destination well. Glimmermere’s outflow still held a measure of its eldritch vitality: its supernal energies sang to her senses. But it was much diluted; too weak to banish him and her son.
“All right,” she said against the wind. “We’re here. What are you going to do’?”
“Enjoy the view,” he replied acidly. Her question appeared to offend him. Or perhaps he felt threatened by her nearness. But then he relented. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We should get started. I’m just about at the end of what I can do.
“But don’t ask me to explain it.” His gaze held hers for an instant, then shied away. During that moment, however, she saw no fire in his eyes. Instead she seemed to detect a transitory glint of anticipation or fear. “I haven’t got the time or the energy. And I’m tired of the way you look at me. Like I’m about to rape somebody. Do what I tell you, and I’ll show you how I’m going to save all of us.”
A little bit of trust. Slowly Linden nodded her acquiescence. What else could she do? She needed answers; needed to understand-If she refused Covenant now, she might lose her only chance to redeem her son.
At once, he commanded, “Then make your friends stand back. They’re in the way. This doesn’t include them.”
Before she could reply, Mahrtiir stepped forward. Ominously relaxed, Stave balanced his weight on the balls of his feet. Liand curled his hands into fists at his sides.
“You are the Unbeliever,” the Manethrall rasped. “Once you were the Ringthane. In this, we do not doubt you. But we stand with Linden Avery. That which falls to her will fall to us as well, for good or ill.”
From his place between Pahni and Bhapa, Anele announced fir
mly, “I no longer fear the ur-viles.”
Instantly angry, Covenant snapped. “Hellfire, Linden! This is important. I need your goddamn friends to get out of my way.”
His eyes remained shrouded, revealing nothing.
“Linden,” said Liand softly. The mounting moan of the wind snatched at his voice. “I mislike this. How is it that a man who once loved you spurns your friends?”
As if to protect her, Stave placed himself squarely between Linden and Covenant. His single eye regarded her intently.
“Chosen, the Masters will support the ur-Lord in this. If you do not oppose him, they will not oppose you. But he is the Unbeliever, the Illender. The Giants have named him Earthfriend and Rockbrother. The Lords of old entrusted him with the Land’s doom. If he requests it of them, the Masters will aid him.”
Linden heard him. The Masters would use force-And they were too many: Stave, Liand, and the Ramen could not fight them. She would lose everything that might be gained by cooperating with Covenant.
She might cost Jeremiah his redemption.
I can’t do it without you.
The boy moved so that she could see him past Stave and Covenant. His young face wore an expression of pleading which was almost desperation. “Please, Mom,” he said tensely. “We need this. It has to be just you.”
His tic signalled to her in a code that she could not decipher.
— if you do not fall the perils which have been prepared for you.
Deliberately Linden turned away from Covenant and Jeremiah and the assembled Masters. With a gesture, she gathered her friends around her. Vitrim and the Staff of Law gave her the strength to say. “Listen. I know how you feel. I don’t like this any better than you do. But it’s a risk that we have to take. Covenant says that he can save the Land.” He can save my son. “If he fails, I’m not exactly helpless. And you won’t be far away.
“I’m not asking you to trust him. Hell, I’m not even asking you to trust me.” She smiled grimly. “I just think that we can’t afford to miss this chance.”
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