There it was: the path out of himself that Covenant needed. If Linden had been able to hear the croyel, its use of Jeremiah would have clawed her soul. In her present state, she was spared that immediate hurt. But Covenant felt it on her behalf. Her pain was his.

It reminded him—

Hit me. Hit me again.

In Andelain, his first taste of corporeal pain had brought him back to himself, albeit temporarily. It had confirmed the bond between his body and his spirit.

Now the thought of what Linden would suffer when she regained consciousness was enough. Vitrim had given him strength. And he was a rightful white gold wielder. He stood in the indirect presence of wild magic that Esmer would not or could not block.

Defying Esmer’s influence, Thomas Covenant stepped out of the Land’s past and became present.

Instant consternation lashed in Esmer’s eyes. He shrank back as if he dreaded what the Unbeliever had become.

Ignoring Cail’s son, Covenant turned away. His hands and feet were still numb; dead. But they were not useless. Thanks to Linden, he could flex his fingers. When the time came—if he lived that long—he would be able to grasp the krill.

But he did not need Loric’s dagger now. It would not daunt She Who Must Not Be Named. He required other suasions.

How much time had passed? The bane had not reached the ledge yet, but She had the power to strike whenever She wished.

Had She felt the change in him? Did She mean to destroy him first? Did She see in him an image of Her first betrayer?

Perhaps. That was possible. He did not doubt that the stains of what he had done to Lena—and, in a different fashion, to Elena—still clung to him. She Who Must Not Be Named may well have discerned his resemblance to the Despiser.

But if She wanted terror from him, retribution for his crimes, she was going to be disappointed.

The Humbled met Covenant’s return with widened eyes, raised eyebrows. They did not resist as he pulled his arms free of Branl and Clyme, stepped past Galt.

In two strides, he reached Stave and Linden.

“Attend, Swordmainnir,” called Mahrtiir softly. “The first Ringthane stands among us once more.”

His voice should have been too small to pierce the bane’s fiery clamor. Yet the Giants heard him. Kindwind, Grueburn, and Latebirth turned sharply to peer at Covenant. Their comrades took a step back from the rim of the ledge.