The Wounded Land by Stephen R. Donaldson

her? He wanted to challenge her at once, demand an answer. But the situation was too complex. And she was totally unprepared for it. He remembered vividly his first appearance here. If Lena had not extended her hand to him, he would have died in vertigo and madness. It was too much for any mind to accept. If only she had listened to him, stayed out of danger—
    But she had not listened. She was here, and in need. She did not yet know the extent of her need. For her sake, he forced a semblance of gentleness into his voice. “You wanted to understand, and I kept telling you you weren’t equipped. Now I think you’re going to understand whether you want to or not.”
    “Covenant,” she moaned through her hands. “Covenant.”
    “Linden.” Carefully he touched her wrists, urged her to lower her arms.
    “Covenant—” She bared her face to him. Her eyes were brown, deep and moist, and dark with the repercussions of fear. They shied from his, then returned. “I must have been dreaming.” Her voice quavered, “I thought you were my father.”
    He smiled for her, though the strain made his battered bones ache. Father? He wanted to pursue that, but did not. Other questions were more immediate.
    But before he could frame an inquiry, she began to recollect herself. She ran her hands through her hair, winced when she touched the injury behind her ear. For a moment, she looked at the trace of blood on her fingers. Then other memories returned. She gasped sharply. Her eyes jerked to his chest. “The knife—” Her urgency was almost an attack. “I saw—” She grabbed for him, yanked up his shirt, gaped at the new scar under his sternum. It appalled her. Her hands reached toward it, flinched away. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “That’s not possible.”
    “Listen.” He raised her head with his left hand, made her meet his gaze. He wanted to distract her, prepare her. “What happened to you? That man hit you. The fire was all over us. What happened after that?”
    “What happened to you?”
    “One thing at a time.” The exertion of keeping himself steady made him sound grim. “There are too many other things you have to understand first. Please give me a chance. Tell me what happened.”
    She pulled away. Her whole body rejected his question. One trembling finger pointed at his chest. “That’s impossible.”
    Impossible. At that moment, he could have overwhelmed her with impossibilities. But he refrained, permitted himself to say only, “So is possession.”
    She met his gaze miserably. Then her eyes closed. In a low voice, she said, “I must have been unconscious. I was dreaming about my parents.”
    “You didn’t hear anything? A voice making threats?”
    Her eyes snapped open in surprise. “No. Why would I?”
    He bowed his head to hide his turmoil. Foul hadn’t spoken to her? The implications both relieved and frightened him. Was she somehow independent of him? Free of his control? Or was he already that sure of her?
    When Covenant looked up again, Linden’s attention had slipped away to the parapet, the sun, the wide sky. Slowly her face froze. She started to her feet.
“Where are we?”
    He caught her arms, held her sitting in front of him. “Look at me.” Her head winced from side to side in frantic denial. Exigencies thronged about him; questions were everywhere. But at this moment the stark need in her face dominated all other issues. “Dr. Avery.” There was insanity in the air; he knew that from experience. If he did not help her now, she might never be within reach of help again. “
Look
at me.”
    His demand brought her wild stare back to him.
    “I can explain it. Just give me a chance.”
    Her voice knifed at him. “Explain it.”
    He flinched in shame; it was his fault that she was here—and that she was so unready. But he forced himself to face her squarely. “I couldn’t tell you about it before.” The difficulty of what he had to say roughened his tone. “There was no way