Thomas Covenant 8 - The Fatal Revenant Read Online Free PDF Page A

Jeremiah
    would have plunged to the stone, but the Master with him caught him and lifted him aside. The horse bearing Covenant endured only a moment longer before it, too, collapsed. But Covenant and his fellow rider were able to leap clear.
    When the inner gates met and sealed like the doors of a tomb, the flame of the Staff was the only light that remained in the forehall.
    The Ramen protested at the condition of the horses; but Linden ignored them. She had already begun to rush forward, avid to clasp her loved ones, when Covenant yelled as if in rage, “Hellfire, Linden! Put that damn thing out!”
    She stopped, gasping as though his vehemence had snatched the air from her lungs. Her power fell from her, and instant darkness burst over her head like a thunderclap.
    Oh, God—
    Just be wary of me. Remember that I’m dead.
    If she could have found her voice, or drawn sufficient breath, she might have cried out at the Despiser, You bastard! What have you done?
    A hand closed on her arm. She hardly heard Stave as he urged her softly, “A moment, Chosen. Handir and others
    approach, bearing torches among them. You need only constrain yourself for a moment.”
    He could still hear the mental speech of the Masters, although they now refused to address or answer him in that fashion.
    At once, she rounded on Stave. Behind him, Liand and the Ramen were whispering, perhaps asking her questions, but she had no attention to
    spare for them. Gripping Stave as he gripped her, she demanded, “Your senses are better than mine.” Like their preternatural strength, the vision of the Haruchai had always exceeded hers. “Can you see them?” See into them? “Are they all right?”
    In the absence of the Staffs flame, she knew only blackness and consternation.
    “They appear whole,” the former
    Master answered quietly. “The ur-Lord has ever been closed to the Haruchai. Even the Bloodguard could not discern his heart. And his companion”—Stave paused as if to confirm his perceptions—”is likewise hidden.”
    “You can’t see anything?” insisted Linden. Even Kevin’s Dirt could not blind the Masters—
    Stave may have shrugged. “I perceive his presence, and that of his
    companion. Nothing more.
    “Chosen,” he asked almost
    immediately, is the ur-Lord’s
    companion known to you?”
    Linden could not answer. She had no room for any questions but her own. Instead she started to say, Take me to them. She needed to be led. Covenant’s shout had shattered her concentration: she might as well have been blind.
    But then the torches that Stave had promised appeared. Their unsteady light wavered toward her from the same passage which had admitted her and her companions to the forehall.
    A few heartbeats later, the Voice of the Masters, Handir, entered the hall. A coterie of Haruchai accompanied him, some bearing fiery brands. As they moved out into the dark, the ruddy light of the flames spread along the stone toward the gates. It seemed to congeal
    like blood in the vast gloom.
    Now Linden could see the faces of her companions, confused by erratic shadows. None of them had the knowledge or experience to recognize Covenant and Jeremiah. Perhaps as a reproach to Linden, Handir had called the newcomers “strangers.” Nevertheless Mahrtiir and his Cords may have been able to guess at Covenant’s identity. The Ramen had preserved ancient tales of the first
    Ringthane. But Liand had only his open bafflement to offer Linden’s quick glance.
    Apparently none of the Masters had done her friends the courtesy of mentioning Covenant’s name aloud. And of course even the Masters could only speculate about Jeremiah.
    Then the light reached the cluster of horses and their riders within the gates; and Linden forgot everything
    except the faces that she loved more dearly than any others she had ever known.
    Unconscious that she was moving again, she hurried toward them, chasing the limits of the ambiguous illumination.
    The inadequacy of the