Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant 02 - Fatal Revenant

  Because of Berek, everything in the Land had changed. It had been made new. He had given its inhabitants their heritage of Earthpower. Yet Covenant disdained Berek’s achievement.

  She did not ask him to wait for her: she hardly wanted his company now. But in one sense, he had not answered her question. Breathing painfully, she increased her pace for a moment.

  “Just tell me one more thing,” she panted at his back. “What’s Berek like? What kind of man is he?”

  If she wanted the first Halfhand’s help while he fought a fierce battle that would leave many of his supporters dead, she needed to know enough about him to gain his sympathy.

  Covenant quickened his strides. Keeping his face to the east, he replied harshly, “He’s charismatic as all hell. Basically a good man, or his despair wouldn’t have left him so raw. And half the time he has no earthly idea what he’s doing.”

  Then, for no apparent reason, he added. “When Elena summoned Kevin, he didn’t fail her. She failed him.”

  After that, he and Jeremiah left Linden to struggle along as well as she could.

  Gradually the uneven shadows of the hills spread into the valley. As much as possible, trying to conserve her strength, Linden followed the trail that Covenant and Jeremiah broke in the crust ahead of her. But more and more often, their way took her into the shade; and then she understood that the coming night would be far more cruel than the day. The temperature of the air seemed to plummet whenever she crossed out of the light.

  She did not know how much longer she could go on.

  When Covenant and Jeremiah were forty or fifty paces ahead of her—far enough to fade in the shadows, so that she could only be sure of them when they returned to sunlight—she began to draw cautiously on the sustenance of the Staff, evoking a slow current of heat and fortitude from the untroubled wood. Doubtless her son and her former lover would warn her if she endangered them. They had too much to lose. And she needed the nourishment of Law and Earthpower. Without it, she would have to ask for more of Covenant’s inexplicable fire; and that prospect increased her sense of helplessness.

  The more time she spent with him, the less she trusted him.

  She was prepared to support his purpose. But she would do so for Jeremiah’s sake, and to oppose the Despiser, and so that she would not find herself stranded ten thousand years before her proper time. Covenant had been too profoundly altered: Linden no longer knew how to believe in him.

  In that fashion, she continued her burdened trudge through the snow and the cold while the shadows deepened and the valley grew dim. Long after she should have fallen on her face, she kept walking because the Staff of Law nurtured her.

  But then, in one of the last swaths of sunshine, she saw Jeremiah dropping back. He let Covenant forge ahead alone so that she would be able to catch up with him.

  Of its own accord, Linden’s heart lifted. Involuntarily she pushed herself to move faster; and as she did so, she quenched the Staff’s subtle warmth. She did not intend to threaten her son.

  He started talking as soon as she drew near enough to hear him. He sounded tense; uncomfortable with her. Or perhaps he had been afflicted with Covenant’s frustration, Covenant’s impatience. He almost babbled as he said. “This isn’t normal. We’re too far south. The winters aren’t usually this bad.”

  Nevertheless he had elected to accompany her, at least for a while. He must have felt some concern for her, despite his devotion to Covenant. That was enough to encourage her.

  “It’s an aftereffect of the war,” Jeremiah went on as if he could not stop. “when Berek was losing. Nobody in this time knows Foul. They won’t meet him until after Kevin becomes High Lord. But he’s in the Land. He has a home where nobody can stumble on him by accident. He’s waiting. Until the Lords become powerful enough, they won’t have a realistic chance of breaking the Arch.”

  As Linden drew level with him, Jeremiah matched his pace to hers. He kept a distance of four or five steps between them, and he stayed on her left: she could not see his tic. But he did not pull ahead again, or fall behind. And he did not stop talking.

  “But earlier Foul wasn’t just waiting. Once samadhi started this war, Foul did what he could to help Berek’s King win it.

  “Of course, if that happened, there wouldn’t be any Lords. But Foul didn’t want Lords then. He wanted the King to win. That whole kingdom had the right attitude. I mean the right attitude for Foul. He could manipulate them easily. If they won, he could teach them how to set him free. They could use the Earthpower in the Land to provoke the Creator until the Creator had to intervene. That would break the Arch. Or Foul could get them to rouse the Worm.

  “So Foul tried to help Berek’s King by sending darkness out of Ridjeck Thome. Malice so thick it blotted out the sun. It practically broke the hearts of Berek’s people And it weakened Berek himself. Almost got him killed. He’s a great warrior, but when he fought the King, he’d lost a lot of his strength. That’s why the King was able to beat him.

  “This winter is sort of left over from losing the sun for a season or two.”

  Jeremiah was watching Linden sidelong, apparently studying her, although he looked away whenever she turned toward him. “But the air’s getting warmer,” he said. “Can you tell?” His voice had taken on a faintly pleading tone. “This valley goes down into the Center Plains. It’s still going to be cold when the sun sets. But Covenant can help you. All you have to do is ask.”

  He seemed to want her to accept her dependence on Covenant.

  She wanted to hear her son justify his loyalty to Covenant. He had called Covenant the best. How had Covenant won Jeremiah’s heart? But she did not wish to risk alienating him. Instead of rejecting his implicit appeal directly, she said, “I’m hanging in there, Jeremiah, honey. I’ll make it somehow.

  “But it really helps when you talk to me. Can I ask you something?”

  The boy frowned at Covenant’s dark shape as if he were unsure of himself. “I guess, Mom. If it’ll do any good. Depending on what it is.”

  They were deep in shadow; still far from the nearest dwindling patch of sunshine. Without light, Linden could not insist on an answer to the question that mattered most to her. For the moment, she concentrated on other concerns.

  “I understand that there are things you can’t tell me,” she began, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. “They’ll interfere with the—I’m not sure what to call it—the continuity of what we’re doing.” In this circumstance, her mind cannot be distinguished from the Arch of Time. “But I’m curious. How do you know the Theomach? You said that you’ve never met him, but you obviously recognized him.”

  “Oh, that.” Jeremiah’s relief was plain in his voice. Clearly her question did not trouble him. “I heard about him, that’s all. He’s one of the Insequent.

  “I told you I’ve been here a lot. I mean, in the Land. And around the Earth. Sort of disembodied, like a ghost. Most of the time, I didn’t choose where I was. Choosing is hard. And I never knew when I was. But once in a while, I met one of the Insequent. They talked about him. The Theomach. I guess he’s their biggest hero. Or he’s going to be. It’s confusing. I don’t know when any of them talked to me, but it seems like it must have been after where we are now. I can’t see why he’s supposed to be such a big deal, so maybe being a hero comes later.

  “But there was one—I saw him a bunch of times. I don’t think that was an accident. I think he was looking for me. He called himself the Vizard. He said he wanted us to be friends, but I thought he really just wanted me to do something. When I saw him, he almost always talked about the Theomach. I got the impression he was jealous or something.”

  In the distance ahead, Covenant passed back into sunlight; and the sudden change seemed to make him flare as if he had emerged from a dimension of darkness.

  Waiting for her opportunity—for the burst of light that might be her last chance—Linden asked carefully. “What did he want you to do?”

 
Jeremiah shrugged. “Build something, I guess. Like the door that let me come here. Only what he wanted was really a trap. A door into a prison.”

  Simply to keep her son with her, she asked. “Why did he want that?”

  “Oh,” he replied as if the subject were inconsequential. “it was for the Elohim. All of them. I guess they hate each other. The Insequent and the Elohim. The Vizard thought if I made the right door it would lure them in and they wouldn’t be able to get out. And maybe if he just talked about it enough I would know how to make it.

  “But I wasn’t really listening. I didn’t like him. And nothing made sense. I didn’t understand why he hated the Elohim. He didn’t seem to have a reason. I decided he just wanted to prove he’s greater than the Theomach, so I stopped paying attention.”

  A few steps more: only a dozen or so. Jeremiah could not conceal his disquiet. He had retrieved his racecar and was playing with it tensely, flipping it back and forth between his hands. Ahead, Covenant had vanished back into shadow. As the sun fell closer to setting, the shadows grew darker: Linden could hardly be sure that he still existed. And Jeremiah gave her the impression that he might bolt at any moment, overcome by the stress of talking to her.

  “Just a little longer, honey,” she urged quietly. “I can see that it’s hard for you to be around me. But there’s one thing I have to know. I’m not sure that I can keep going without it.”

  “What is it?” His manner was suddenly thick with distrust.

  Linden hazarded a moment or two of silence. Then through the crunching of her boots and the crisp stamp of the Staff, she said, “You won’t have to talk at all. You can just show me.”

  Half a stride ahead of her, Jeremiah crossed into the light of the sun.

  It was pale with constriction and approaching twilight, but it seemed bright as morning after the gloom of the shadows. As soon as she reached the sunshine herself, and her son was fully illumined, she halted. Bracing her fears on the Staff, she said. “Jeremiah,” as if she had the right to command him, “take off your shirt. Let me look at you. I have to know if you were shot.”

  Harsh as a blow, he wheeled to face her. The mud of his gaze roiled with darkness and anger. At the corner of his left eye, the muscles beat as steadily as a war-drum; a summons to battle.

  Startled and afraid, Linden flinched as if her son had threatened her.

  But he complied. Vehemently, almost viciously, he undid the remaining buttons of his pajama top; tore it from his shoulders; flung it to the snow at his feet. If he felt the cold, he did not show it.

  As if she had demanded a violation he resented fiercely but could not refuse, he turned in a circle, letting her scrutinize his naked back as well as his chest. But there were too many stains on his skin, too much grime. If he had been wounded and healed, she could not find the scars.

  He must have recognized her uncertainty. Abruptly he stooped, punched his fists through the icy crust, and scooped up handfuls of snow. Then he slapped the snow onto his chest and stomach, rubbing furiously until he had cleaned away the marks of struggle and torment.

  In the sun’s failing light, his skin looked as healthy and whole as if she had bathed him herself; as if he were the son whom she had loved and tended for so many years.

  “Are you satisfied?” he hissed venomously. “Mom?”

  Oh, God. Instinctively Linden hugged the Staff to her chest, covered her face with her icy hands. Sweet Jesus. The previous day—or ten thousand years in the future—she had asked Jeremiah if he had been shot. At first, he had tried to avoid an answer. Then he had replied, I’m not sure. Something knocked me down pretty hard, I remember that. But there wasn’t any pain.

  But he had not been shot. Somehow Barton Lytton’s deputies had missed him. Instead he had merely been struck, perhaps by Roger’s falling body. Therefore he remained alive in the world to which he had been born; the world where he belonged. His life, his natural birthright, could still be saved. In fact, if she understood what she had once experienced herself, and what Covenant had explained about his own visits to the Land—

  She heard Jeremiah retrieve his shirt and shove his arms into the sleeves; heard him stride angrily away. But she could not uncover her eyes to watch him leave her. If she understood the rules, the Law, governing translations to the Land, Jeremiah could not be slain here while he remained alive in his proper reality. Lord Foul might torture him until his mind tore itself, but the Despiser could not kill him. Instead Jeremiah would only remain in Lord Foul’s power until his summoner passed away. Then he would be released to his former life. And his body would bear no sign of what he had endured. Only his sane or shredded mind would suffer the consequences of his time in the Land.

  My son—Unregarded tears froze on Linden’s cheeks and fingers. Covenant had indeed offered her hope. But he had also misled her. Worse than that, he had lied to her.

  If he succeeded against the Despiser, Jeremiah’s summoner would die. Linden knew Joan too well to believe otherwise. Joan was too frail, too brittle, to preserve herself. Wild magic and her own agony were too destructive to be endured. Without the imposed goad and sustenance of Lord Foul’s servants, she would perish quickly.

  Then Jeremiah’s torment would end. He would vanish from the Land. Linden would remain because she was already dead. Even Roger might remain, seeking such havoc that the bones of mountains tremble to contemplate it. But Jeremiah—

  If he returned to his natural world a mental cripple, she would not be there to care for him. He would be lost to her forever.

  That was the lie. Covenant had said that he’ll still be trapped wherever Foul has him, but Jeremiah would not be, he would not. He’ll still need rescuing. Yet surely Covenant knew that Joan’s death would release the boy?

  Nonetheless Linden had been given a reason to hope. The Despiser’s defeat would spare her son’s life.

  And she had another reason as well; an entirely different kind of reason. The Blood of the Earth. You can Command any damn thing you want. All you have to do is want it, and you and your kid will be reunited. Anywhere you choose. She could block Jeremiah’s return to the world of her death: she could keep him in the Land. Then she would not need to fear for the condition of his mind. Here he could be truly restored, healed.

  But she would still lose him. If it’ll make you happy, you two can live in Andelain—There Covenant had misled her. Jeremiah’s vehemence toward her moments ago, like his devotion to Covenant, proclaimed the truth. If she enabled him to remain in the Land, he would not choose to live with her. He did not love her. He had never loved her. For years while she had lavished her heart on him, he had been absent from himself. Dissociated and unreactive, he had been more conscious of Covenant’s friendship than of anything that she had done or felt.

  From his damaged perspective, he had no cause to love her—

  An uncertain future in his natural world or a life of wholeness in the Land. The Power of Command would enable her to provide one or the other for her son. But that choice was not hers to make: it belonged to him. Either way, he would be lost her to her; but her bereavement was beside the point. She had already lost him. And he was not responsible for her dedication—or her sorrow.

  Covenant was another matter entirely. He had lied to her. Deliberately he had tried to obscure the true crux of Jeremiah’s straits—and of her own.

  She needed to talk to him. She needed to talk to him now.

  But when she snatched down her hands and opened her eyes to the dying light, she found the Theomach standing in front of her.

  Instinctively she clasped her numb fingers around the Staff. But she did not call upon its power. She felt no threat from the Insequent. To her health-sense, he still appeared to be an ordinary man beneath his strange habiliments; devoid of any inherent theurgy. If she had not fallen so far down into her grief and anger, she would have discerned him as soon as he approached her.

  Instead of fire, she drew a little heat from the ready wood, a little com
fort, so that she would not collapse into shivering.

  She meant to demand, Tell me. I have to know. Why did Covenant lie to me? But before she could form the words, the Theomach held up his hand to forestall her. His wrapped and hidden face regarded her with an attitude of grave attention.

  “Lady,” he said in his light voice, “understand that your son’s plight is not a simple matter—as yours is not. Even the Halfhand is not free of pain.

  “I may say nothing of his designs. You must earn the knowledge that you seek. However,” he added as she started to protest, “I will accompany you now, if you will permit it. In recompense for your courtesy, I will answer any questions which do not undermine the integrity of Time, or of my own purposes.” Then he lowered his voice as if he did not wish to be overheard. “Also I will ease your passage through this winter, so that you need not hazard either your own fire or the Halfhand’s. Perhaps my aid will enable you to gain your destination with strength sufficient for what must be done.”

  Linden stared at him. He had surprised her out of her immediate turmoil, but she did not forget it. And she was sick to death of people who sought to manipulate her by concealing the truth. However, she understood nothing about the Theomach—and he had offered to answer questions.

  After a moment, she said stiffly, “I’m not sure that I want company.” Convince me. “Let’s start with this. If Covenant stays on your path—and I do—will I get a chance to find out what he isn’t telling me?”

  The Theomach bowed as though her query signaled acquiescence. “Lady, I believe that you will. You have displayed cleverness, and perhaps wisdom as well. You will contrive opportunities to wrest what veracity you may from your companions.”

  What veracity you may—Linden heard disturbing implications in the words, but she was too distraught to consider them. She already knew that she did not trust Covenant.