"Instead he gave warning. 'Beware the halfhand,' he pronounced in a voice which shook our hearts. Then he appeared to dissolve into the air as salt does in water, and was gone, leaving only the taste of disturbance on our tongues "

If she could have cleared her throat, Linden might have protested, Beware the halfhand? Distress crowded her chest. That title had been given to Thomas Covenant during his first visit to the Land.

But Jeremiah was also a halfhand, in his own way.

She hardly heard Liand ask, "Do you deem that strange, Linden Avery? Do you know of this 'halfhand'?"

The Elohim had never trusted Covenant. They had feared his white ring; feared its power to compel even them, despite their fluid transcendence. But he was dead What did they know of her son?

They were Elohim. They knew everything that transpired throughout the Earth. It was their nature to know. Of course they were aware of Jeremiah's plight.

Surely they understood Lord Foul's intentions precisely?

"It troubles us still," Liand admitted when she did not respond, "though the stranger has not returned. For that reason, my heart speaks to me of matters greater than the Masters permit us to know."

Beware the halfhand.

Find me, Covenant had pleaded in her dreams.

She had assumed that her son had been taken as a hostage against her, so that she might be coerced into surrendering Covenant's ring. But the warning of the Elohim seemed to imply a larger danger.

Larger than the destruction of the Arch of Time and the extinction of the Earth-?

Seconded by thunder, Liand finished, "And therefore I ascended the Watch, defying the prohibition of the Masters, though to do so may have been foolish and perilous. I wish to know the name of our doom."

Linden stared at him, seeing nothing. Worse than Lord Foul's complete victory-?

"Protect Anele," the old man whimpered through the thrashing of the wind. "Power comes. It will shred his heart."

"Linden Avery." Liand's voice held a note of supplication. "Speak to me. You grasp much which is denied to us. Do you comprehend this doom? Who is this Elohim? What is the 'halfhand,' that we must be wary of him?"

Magnified by the wind, thunder thudded against the ground so heavily that the floor under her shook. The air flurrying past the curtain had turned as cold as frost.

She had encountered the croyel. They were parasites which gave power in exchange for mastery. She had seen them unify the primitive savagery of the arghuleh; exalt Kasreyn of the Gyre's dangerous theurgies.

What might such a creature do to Jeremiah?

The croyel posed no threat to the Elohim. The danger must be to the Land, and to the Earth. Or to her son "What's happening?"

She did not hear herself speak aloud. She only knew that the thunder had grown as violent as the rending of Kevin's Watch.

"Protect," Anele repeated. His voice quavered in fright.

Abruptly a ragged wail carried along the wind. "We are assailed!" At once, Liand sprang to his feet.

"Kresh?" he gasped. "Now?"

In a rush, he flung himself past the curtain; disappeared between the dwellings. Instinctively Linden surged upright, echoing Liand's question.

Wolves? In a storm like this?

No. Not unless the Despiser had compelled them to attack.

Mithil Stonedown would need all of its defenders. Even the Haruchai might find themselves overwhelmed.

"Come on," she told Anele urgently. With her right hand, she gripped Covenant's ring. "They need help, and I can't leave you. You're coming with me."

Her companion did not react. He could not have heard her. Wind and thunder like detonations smothered her voice.

"Come on!" she yelled, beckoning furiously at the thick gloom. Then she slapped the curtain aside and hurried into the storm.

There, however, she staggered to a halt.

She stood in the narrow passage between her gaol and the nearest home. It was deserted: every passage in sight was deserted. The Masters had abandoned their watch on Anele. The force of the wind had swept them away.

Clouds frothed like spume overhead, black and grey tangled together, and racing for the horizons. The dwellings around her appeared in shades of darkness, as comfortless as sepulchers. Dust stung at her eyes and flared away.

She expected rain, but there was none.

Out of the gloom, Anele stumbled against her back. He caught himself, staggered t her side. His lips worked feverishly, but she could not hear him.

If Liand's people and the Haruchai fought kresh, they did so without a sound no snarling; no cries of effort or pain.

Not wolves, then; or any other form of attack that Linden knew. A running battle could not be waged in silence between shocks of thunder.

The whole Stonedown had lost its voice. She and Anele might have been the only ones left alive The next slam of thunder brought no lightning. She had seen none since the storm began. Instead the shrouded air ahead of her seemed to congeal into a knot of perfect and impenetrable blackness: distilled ebony or obsidian. Even her blunted senses felt its concentration and power like a shout of wreckage.

As she stared at it in dismay, it shattered downward.

Dirt and broken stone spouted from the ground where the power struck; too much stone. Stunned moments passed before she understood that a home had been blasted to scree and flinders.

No natural force drove this storm. It was the Despiser's handiwork. Nothing in Mithil Stonedown could hope to stand against it.

Except wild magic She started forward again.

A heartbeat later, she stopped once more.

If Lord Foul had caused this storm, what did he hope to gain? Gratuitous destruction? Homelessness and pain? He delighted in such things. But she remembered him vividly. Always he hid one purpose within another. He would not be content with tearing Mithil Stonedown apart. He wanted more What would happen if she allowed herself to be lured into a contest of powers, white fire against black havoc? She did not know how to use Covenant's ring.

If she found the way, she might break the storm, save some of Liand's people. Or the seething clouds might prove too potent for her. She might be impelled to flee for her life. Or worse, might lose control completely Or she might find that she could not raise wild magic by any act of will. Unable to defend herself, she might be struck down by the storm. Jeremiah's last faint hope would be gone.

In either case, the Masters would imprison Anele again when the danger passed. Her chance to escape-perhaps the only chance she would get-would be gone. That would serve the Despiser beyond question.

No, she panted to herself. No. She would not. Not while she could still breathe and think_ Do something they don't expect.

-and run.

M If this storm was aimed at her, it might follow.

Some of the Stonedownors, at least, would be spared. And Stave's people might not be able to pursue her.

Wheeling, she reached out for Anele, grabbed him by the shoulder of his tattered tunic. Instead of trying to shout through the wind, she shoved him ahead of her, away from the boiling center of darkness.

He complied as though she had set a goad to his ribs; as though he were not hindered by blindness.

Together they ran with all their strength between the dwellings and out of the Stonedown: away from thunder and Masters and the Land she knew.The Despiser's Guidance South: Linden prayed that she and Anele ran south; deeper into the valley. Surely that black storm arose from the north?-from the peril which had Chi found its release in Mount Thunder? If so, she needed to flee southward, toward the place where the mountains rose like barricades.

Away from Masters and dark thunder and Jeremiah.

Something they don't expect.

Away from any hope that she would find people to help her. Dreams are snares.

Running, hardly able to see, she and the old man made their way between the homes and out of Mithil Stonedown. Anele stayed near her without urging or of In every phase of his madness, apparently, he understood flight and did by need vision. Indeed, when they gained open ground he began to pull ahead. G some instinct which she could hardly imagine, his feet seemed to find and follow a path of their own accord, despite the dense cloud and trailing thunder. were too She did not want that. The Haruchai would come in pursuit. 1 e the village doughty, and too familiar with power, to die in the darkness that And they had access to horses. Any path would guide the Masters swiftly apt h her.

den Hoping that she had chosen the right direction and knew where she was, Linden panted at Anele's back, "Not that way! Head for the river!" Anele were going Liand's village lay on the eastern bank of the Mithil. If she and Ane south they could reach the watercourse by veering to their right. Perhaps they would be able to confuse the Haruchai by crossing the river-or by traveling along it.

or by floating down it, as she and Covenant had done with Sunder under a sun of rain.

Would Stave make that assumption? He might.

Certainly he would have to consider it seriously. If she could slip past Mithil Stonedown on the river, aiming toward the open expanse of the South Plains, she would be difficult to track.

And if she rode the current of the Mithil long enough, it would carry her to the southern edge of Andelain.

There she might discover the counsel and guidance of the Dead It was possible that those shades no longer occupied the Hills. The Masters would know. But they would also know that she did not. Surely they might believe that she would head in that direction?

Fearing that she might lose him in the heavy gloom, Linden ran hard after Anele as he angled away from the path. He must have understood her, in spite of his derangement. And must have believed, as she did, that they fled for the south.

She could hardly see her feet, but her boots found easy footing on the tough cushion of the grass. And in moments the turf seemed to lean gently downward, perhaps declining toward the watercourse. For a few strides, she ran more easily.

Nevertheless she soon knew that her attempt to escape would fail.

She did not have the strength to run far. Already she could scarcely breathe. The heavy cloud filled her sight like dusk, swirled like phosphenes before her: darkness seeped into her eyes as if her life and blood were oozing away. Again and again, she missed her balance and nearly fell; or the harsh wind knocked her off her stride.

She had been battered too severely; had found too little rest. Her flesh demanded days of healing, not hours. And she had not prepared herself-For ten years, she had done little to sustain the physical toughness that she had developed on her travels with Thomas Covenant.

If the Despiser had appeared before her here and now-and if she could have drawn one full breath-she would have flung everything she had against him without hesitation. But she could not, simply could not, evade the Haruchai by running.

Yet Anele sped ahead of her over the dim grass as though all fatigue, every vestige of his mortality, had been left behind in the gaol of the Masters. Galvanized by EarthPower or dread, and hardened by years of privation, he outdistanced her easily. Already he had begun to fade from sight, evanescent as a specter in the fog. In another moment she would lose him altogether.

She thought she heard him cackle as he ran, overflowing with mad glee. She would have begged him to slow down if she could have made any sound except gasping.

Then without transition she saw him clearly for an instant, and a glimpse of sunlight flared ahead of her.

The outer edge of the storm-? Goading herself forward, she struggled after him.

Another flash of sunlight: a sweep of hillside, sloping mildly downward. Abruptly the cerements of the strange storm unwound from her limbs, and she broke free into dazzling light and clean day.

Momentarily exhausted, she dropped to her hands and knees, panting while the grass seemed to sway under her and the low breeze tugged her sideways.

For a while, she heard nothing except her hoarse breathing and the unsteady labor of her heart. The hills around her seemed silent as a grave, deprived of birds and life by the passage of the storm. She meant to lift her head, look for Anele, but the muscles in her neck and shoulders refused to obey her. For all she knew, he had continued running; would continue until he had left her behind forever.

After a few moments, however, the sound of movement upon the grass reached her, and a pair of old feet, abused and bare, appeared at the edge of her vision.

Anele had returned for her.

He chortled in tight bursts like a man who could not catch his breath for mirth.

Linden tried to say his name, but she had no breath.

How far had she stretched her frail attempt at escape?

A hundred yards? Two hundred? The Masters would recapture her swiftly when the attack on Mithil Stonedown ended.

"Pathetic," Anele cackled in Lord Foul's voice.

"Entirely abject. You disappoint me, Linden Avery. I would delight to see you grovel thus, but I have not yet earned your prostration.

"If you had not released this failing cripple, my servants the Haruchai would have aided you. They would have fostered your false hopes. Now they will hunt you down and imprison you.

"This displeases me."

She had no stamina; but she could still feel outrage. At once, she surged to her feet, clutching for Covenant's ring with fury in her gaze.

Anele flinched involuntarily. His blind eyes wept dread and misery as his mouth articulated the Despiser's bitter laughter.

"Damn it, Foul!" she panted through her teeth.

"Leave him alone. If you need a victim, try me. Take your chances."

"And if I do not?" Lord Foul retorted. "If I elect rather to mock you with this cripple's torment? What then? Insipid woman! Will you scour the life from these displaced bones for my amusement?"

Linden yearned for strength; for the validation of white fire. Wild magic would have given force to her repudiation. If Covenant's ring had not lain inert in her grasp she might have been able to daunt even the Despiser. But she was not Covenant. His power did not belong to her.

Nevertheless her anger was enough for her. With ire and determination, if not with fire, she confronted Anele's anguish.

"Are you having fun, asshole?" she lashed out. "Enjoy it while you can. Sooner or later, I'm going to recover my healthsense." Somehow. "And when I do, you will leave Anele alone. That I guarantee.

"If you don't, I'll be able to get at you." More than once, percipience had enabled her to take possession of Covenant. "I'll tear you out of him with my bare hands."

For what he did to Jeremiah as much as for his cruelty to Anele.

The old man recoiled in fright. The spirit within him chortled harshly.

"Do you believe so?" he retorted. "That would please me. I would find satisfaction in such a contest. And this mad vessel, that clings so stubbornly to continuance when he should have perished ages ago"-Lord Foul laughed outright "ah, he would be quite destroyed."

Not necessarily, Linden assured him in silence. You have no idea what I can do.