“I hear you,” Sunder breathed. His wife and son were in his eyes; he had reason to understand Covenant's denial.
Sunlight had begun to angle into the clearing through the trees, painting streaks across the damp air. A sunrise free of the Sunbane. Covenant stared at it for a moment, but it was indecipherable to him.
The sun roused Linden and Hollian. Soon the company began to prepare for travel. No one spoke Vain's name, but the loss of him cast a pall over the camp. Covenant had been trying not to think about it. The Demondim-spawn was unscrupulous and lethal. He smiled at unreined power. But he was also a gift from Saltheart Foamfollower. And Covenant felt irrationally shamed by the thought that he had let a companion, any companion, sink into that quagmire, even though Linden had said that Vain was not alive.
A short time later, the Haruchai shouldered the supplies, and the quest set off. Now no one spoke at all. They were afoot in Sarangrave Flat, surrounded by hazards and by the ears of the lurker. Betrayals seemed to wait for them behind every tree, in every stream. None of them had the heart to speak.
Brian and Cail led the way, with Linden between them. Turning slightly north of east, they crossed the clearing, and made their way back into the jungle.
For a while, the morning was white and luminous with sun-gilt mist. It shrouded the trees in evanescence. The company seemed to be alone in the Flat, as if every other form of life had fled. But as the mist frayed into wisps of humidity and faded, the marsh began to stir. Birds rose in brown flocks or individual blurs of colour; secretive beasts scurried away from the travellers. At one point, the quest encountered a group of large grey monkeys, feeding at a thicket of berries as scarlet as poison. The monkeys had canine faces and snarled menacingly. But Brinn walked straight toward them with no expression in his flat eyes. The monkeys broke for the trees, barking like hyenas.
For most of the morning, the company edged through a stretch of jungle with solid ground underfoot. But during the afternoon, they had to creep across a wide bog, where hillocks of sodden and mangy grass were interspersed with obscure pools and splotches of quicksand. Some of the pools were clear; others, gravid and mephitic. At sudden intervals, one or another of them was disturbed, as if something vile lay on its bottom. Linden and the Haruchai were hard pressed to find a safe path through the region.
In the distance behind them, the sun passed over Landsdrop and took on the blue aura of rain. But the sky over Sarangrave Flat stayed deep cerulean, untainted and unscathed.
By sunset, they had travelled little more than five leagues.
It would have been better, Covenant thought as he chewed his disconsolate supper, if we'd ridden around. But he knew that such regrets had no meaning. It would have been better if he had never harmed Lena or Elena-never lost Joan-never contracted leprosy. The past was as indefeasible as an amputation. But he could have borne his slow progress more lightly if so many lives, so much of the Land, had not been at stake.
That night came rain. It filled the dark, drenched the dawn, and did not lift until the company had been slogging through mud for half the morning.
In the afternoon, they had to wade a wetland of weeds and bulrushes. The water covered Covenant's thighs; the rushes grew higher than his head. A preterite fear of hidden pits and predators scraped at his nerves. But the company had no choice; this swamp blocked their way as far as the Haruchai could see.
The density of the rushes forced them to move in single file. Brinn led, followed immediately by Linden and Cail; then went Harn, Hollian, Stell, Sunder, Covenant, Ceer, and Hergrom. The water was dark and oily; Covenant's legs vanished as if they had been cut off at the waterline. The air was clouded with mosquitoes; and the marsh stank faintly, as if its bottom were littered with carcasses. The sack perched high on Stell's shoulders blocked Covenant's view ahead; he did not know how far he would have to go like this. Instinctively, he tried to hurry, but his boots could not keep their footing in the mud, and the water was as heavy as blood.
The mirk dragged at his legs, stained his clothes. His hands clutched the reeds involuntarily, though they could not have saved him if he fell. His mind cursed at thoughts of Vain. The Demondim-spawn had not even looked at the people who were trying to rescue him. Covenant's pulse laboured in his temples.
Without warning, the rushes beside him thrashed. The water seethed. A coil as thick as his thigh broke the surface.
Instantly, Sunder was snatched out of sight.
Twenty feet away, he heaved up again, with a massive serpent body locked around his hips and neck. Gleaming scales covered strength enough to snap his back like a dry stick.
All the celerity of the Haruchai seemed insignificant to Covenant. He saw Stell release his sack, crouch, start a long dive forward, as if each piece of the action were discrete, time-consuming. Ceer carried no sack; he was one fraction of a heartbeat ahead of Stell. Hollian's mouth stretched toward a scream. Every one of the reeds was distinct and terrible. The water had the texture of filthy wool. Covenant saw it alclass="underline" wet scales; coils knotted to kill; Ceer and Stell in the first reach of their dives; Hollian's mouth-
Marid! A man with no mouth, agony in his eyes, snakes for arms. Fangs agape for Linden's face. Sunder. Marid. Fangs fixed like nails of crucifixion in Covenant's right forearm.
Venom.
In that instant, he became a blaze of fury.
Before Ceer and Stell covered half the distance, Covenant fried the coils straining Sunder's back. Wild magic burned the flesh transparent, lit spine, ribs, entrails with incandescence.
Linden let out a cry of dismay.
The serpent's death throes wrenched Sunder underwater.
Ceer and Stell dove into the convulsions. They disappeared, then regained their feet, with the Graveller held, gasping, between them. Dead coils thudded against their backs as they bore Sunder out of danger.
All Covenant's power was gone, snuffed by Linden's outcry. Cold gripped the marrow of his bones. Visions of green children and suffocation. Bloody hell.
His companions gaped at him. Linden's hands squeezed the sides of her head, fighting to contain her fear. Covenant expected her to shout abuse at him. But she did not. “It's my fault.” Her voice was a low rasp. “I should have seen that thing.”
“No.” Stell spoke as if he were immune to contradiction. "It came when you had passed. The fault is mine. The Graveller was in my care."
Hellfire, Covenant groaned uselessly. Hell and damnation.
With an effort, Linden jerked down her hands and forced herself to the Graveller's side. He breathed in short gasps over the pain in his chest. She examined him for a moment, scowling at what she perceived. Then she muttered, “You'll live.” Outrage and helplessness made her voice as bitter as bile.
The Haruchai began to move. Stell retrieved his sack. Brinn reformed the line of the company. Holding herself rigid, Linden took her place. They went on through the swamp.
They tried to hurry. But the water became deeper, holding them back. Its cold rank touch shamed Covenant's skin. Hollian could not keep her feet; she had to cling to Ham's sack and let him pull her. Sunder's injury made him wheeze as if he were expiring.
But finally the reeds gave way to an open channel; and a short distance beyond it lay a sloping bank of marshgrass. The bottom dropped away. The company had to swim.
When they gained solid ground, they saw that all their apparel was covered with a slick brown slime. It stank in Covenant's nostrils. Linden could not keep the nausea off her mien.