Granite wreckage plummeted. A hungry plunge snapped at their heels as they neared the lurker’s creatures. But there, impossibly, the surface became stronger. The Feroce stood where the greatest number of skest had died, yet the clifftop clung to its former endurance. When the Ranyhyn surged past the creatures, they were able to truly gallop.

“Damnation!” Covenant gasped. “Hell and blood! I would not have believed—”

A moment later, the horses reached solid ground. At once, they skidded to a halt, neighing triumph.

The Feroce unclosed their hands; let their peculiar magicks subside. Their small forms slumped as if they were exhausted.

While he caught his breath, Covenant repeated to himself, Damnation! I would not have believed it. But he did not pause for astonishment. Relief only whetted his vulnerability. A large portion of the clifftop was gone. Against the foot of the Shattered Hills lay a gap as inviting and murderous as open jaws. And the drop called to him.

Vertigo squirmed through him. Ruling himself with curses, he shouted to the Feroce, “Tell your High God! If it can be done, I’ll save him. I’ll save the Land. And thank him for me. He keeps his promises!”

The Feroce looked too weary to respond; and he did not wait for them. Aiming his voice past the creatures, he ordered the Ranyhyn, “Don’t try to follow us! Find some other path. I’m counting on you! We’re going to need you.”

Under his breath, he added, “If I don’t get us killed first.”

Hurrying, he turned to Clyme. “We have to reach Branl, and I can’t do it. No way in hell.” His voice shook as if he were feverish. “I can’t keep my damn balance.” At one time, he had found calm in the eye of a whirling confluence of possibility and impossibility: he could not do so here. “But it’s worse than that. There’s something in me that wants to fall.” His inner Despiser? His yearning to surrender his burdens? “If the two of you can’t hold me, we might as well just jump.”

In the light of Loric’s dagger, Clyme’s expression looked subtly scornful. “Secure the krill, ur-Lord,” he said as if Covenant’s alarm did not merit reassurance. “We will require both of your arms.”

“Right.” Covenant tightened his grip on himself. “Of course you can hold me. What was I thinking?”

In a rush, he swung the dagger so that Anele’s cloth wrapped itself around the metal, masked the bright gem.

At once, darkness enclosed him. Its suddenness sealed him away from everything except the avid gulf. He could not even see Clyme. The Master was only a sensation of rigidity at his side. Nevertheless Covenant tucked the krill into his jeans.