Then Linden pointed through the branches toward the sun. When Covenant peered at the faint aura, he saw it change, just as she had predicted. The full power of the Sunbane returned, restoring pestilence to the Sarangrave.
At the sight, a nameless chill clutched his viscera. The Sarangrave under a sun of pestilence-
Hollian's gasp yanked the company toward her. She was gaping at the pool, with her knuckles jammed between her teeth.
At every spot where sunlight touched the dark surface, pale creatures rose. They thrust blind heads into the light, seemed to yearn upward. A slight wind ruffled the trees, shifting pieces of sunshine back and forth. The creatures flailed to follow the spots of light.
When any creature had kept its head in the light for several moments, it began to expand. It swelled like ripening fruit, then split open, scattering green droplets around the pool. The droplets which fell in shadow quickly turned black and faded. But the ones which fell in light became bright-Covenant closed his eyes; but he could not shut out the sight. Green flecks danced against red behind his eyelids. He looked again. The droplets were luminescent and baleful, like liquid emeralds. They grew as they swam, feeding on sludge and pestilence.
“Good God!” Horror compacted Linden's whisper. “We've got to get out of here!”
Her tone carried complete conviction. The Haruchai sprang into motion. Sunder called the Coursers forward. Cail boosted first Linden, then Covenant, upward, so that Clash would not have to kneel. Stell and Ham did the same for the Stonedownors.
Skirting the pool, Brinn guided the beasts eastward as swiftly as he dared, deeper into the toils of Sarangrave Hat.
Fortunately, the Sunbane seemed to steady the Coursers, enforcing the hold of Sunder's rukh. Their ponderous skittishness eased. When malformed animals scuttled out from under their hooves, or shrieking birds flapped past their heads, they remained manageable. After half a league, the riders were able to eat a meal without dismounting.
As they ate, Covenant looked for a way to question Linden. But she forestalled him. “Don't ask.” Spectres haunted the backs of her eyes. “It hurt. I just knew we were in danger. I don't want to know what it was.”
He nodded. The plight of the company required her to accept visions which wrung her soul. She was so exposed. And he had no way to help her.
The Haruchai passed around a pouch of voure. As he dabbed the pungent sap on his face and arms, Covenant became aware that the air was alive with butterflies.
Fluttering red and blue, yellow like clean sunshine, gleams of purple and peacock-green, they clouded the spaces between the trees like particoloured snow, alert and lovely. The dance of the Sarangrave-Sarangrave Flat under a sun of pestilence. The insects made him feel strangely bemused and violent. They were beautiful. And they were born of the Sunbane. The venom in him answered their entrancement as if, despite himself, he yearned to fry every lambent wing in sight. He hardly noticed when the company began moving again through the clutches of the marsh. At one time, he had watched helplessly while Wraiths died. Now every memory increased the pressure in him, urged him toward power. But in this place power was suicide.
Piloted by Bruin's caution and Linden's sight, the questors worked eastward. For a time, they travelled the edges of a water channel clogged with lilies. But then the channel cut toward the north, and they were forced to a decision. Linden said that the water was safe. Brinn feared that the lily-stems might fatally tangle the legs of the Coursers.
The choice was taken out of their hands. Hergrom directed their attention northwestward. For a moment, Covenant could see nothing through the obscure jungle. Then he caught a glimpse.
Fragments of livid green. The same green he had watched aborning in the pool of tar.
They were moving. Advancing-
Linden swore urgently. “Come on.” She clinched Brinn's shoulders. “Cross. We've got to stay away from those things.”
Without hesitation, Brinn sent Clash into the water.
At once, the Courser's legs were toiled in the stems. But the channel was shallow enough to give the beast a purchase on its bottom. Clash fought forward in a series of violent heaves, thrashing spray in all directions.
The other mounts followed to the east bank. Cascading water from their thick coats, they began to move as swiftly as Sarangrave Plat allowed.
Through stretches of jungle so dense that the trees seemed to claw at the quest, and the creepers dangled like garrottes. Across waving greenswards intricately beset with quagmires. Along the edges of black bogs which reeked like carrion eaters, pools which fulminated trenchantly. Into clear streams, slime-covered brooks, avenues of mud. Everywhere the riders went, animals fled from them; birds betrayed them in raucous fear or outrage; insects hove and swarmed, warded away only by the smell of voure.
And behind them came glimpses of green, elusive spangles, barely seen, as if the company were being stalked by emeralds.
Throughout the afternoon, they wrestled with the Flat; but, as far as Covenant could see, they gained nothing except a sense of panic. They could not outdistance those iridescent green blinks. He felt threats crawling between his shoulder blades. From time to time, his hands twitched as if they ached to fight, as if he knew no other answer to fear except violence.
In the gloaming of sunset, Brinn halted the company for supper. But no one suggested that they should make camp. The pursuit was more clearly visible now.
Green shapes the size of small children, burning inwardly like swamp lights, crept furtively through the brush-creatures of emerald stealth and purpose. Scores of them. They advanced slowly, like a malison that had no need for haste.
A thin rain began to fall, as if the ambience of the Sarangrave were sweating in eagerness.
One of the Coursers snorted. Annoy stamped its feet, tossed its head. Covenant groaned. Shetra had been one of the most potent Lords of Elena's Council, adept at power. Fifteen Bloodguard and Lord Hyrim had been unable to save her.
He clutched at his mount and yearned forward as Brinn and Linden picked their way through the drizzle.
Water slowly soaked his hair and trickled into his eyes. The susurrus of the rain filled the air like a sigh. Everything else had fallen still. The advance of the lambent green creatures was as silent as gravestones. Sunder began to mutter at the Coursers, warning them to obedience.
“Quicksand,” Linden gritted. “To the right.”
Through his knees, Covenant could feel Clash trembling.
For a moment, the quicksand made a sucking noise. Then the sound of the rain intensified. It became an exhalation of wet lust. Behind the drizzle, Sarangrave Flat waited.
The creatures were within a stone's throw of the company and drawing closer.
A gasp stiffened Linden. Covenant jerked his gaze ahead, searched the night.
In the distance lay a line of green lights.
It cut the quest off from the east.
The line arced to the north, spreading out to join the pursuit.
Hellfire!
The company had ridden into a snare. Flickering through the trees and brush and rain, the fires began to contract around the riders like a noose. They were being herded southward.
Clangor stumbled to its knees, then lurched upright again, blowing fearfully.
Linden panted curses under her breath. Covenant heard them as if they were the voice of the rain. She was desperate, dangerously close to hysteria. Opening her senses in this place must have violated her like submitting to a rape.