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e had had no thought of swimming when he had slipped into the depths； but the force of Glimmermere triggered reactions in him； sent him clawing up toward the surface。 With a whooping gasp； he broke water； sculled for a moment to catch his breath against the fiery chill； then struck out for the bank where he had left his robe。
Climbing out onto the hillside； he felt aflame with cold； but he pelled himself to remain naked while the wind made ice of the water on his limbs and dried him。 Then he pulled his robe urgently over his shoulders； hugged his staff to his chest so that its heat warmed him where he most needed warming。 His feverish chill took some time to pass； and while he waited； he braced himself； strove to shore up his heart against the obstacles and the dismay which awaited him。
He had to do something which was obviously impossible。 He had to slay samadhi Satansfist。
He would need help。
Putting grimly aside all his former scruples； he turned to the only possible source of help…the only aid whose faithfulness matched his need。 He raised one cold hand to his lips and whistled shrilly three times。
The turbulent wind seemed to snatch the sound to pieces； tatter it instantly。 In a place where echoes were mon； his call disappeared without resonance or answer； the wind tore it away as if to undo his purpose； make him unheard。 Nevertheless he summoned his trust； pried himself up the hillside to stand waiting on the vantage of the crest。 A suspense like the ether of despair filled him； but he faced the western mountains as if his heart knew neither doubt nor fear。
Long moments which sharpened his suspense to the screaming point passed before he saw a dull brown movement making its way toward him out of the mountains。 Then his soul leaped up in spite of its burdens； and he stood erect with the wind snapping in his ears so that his stance would be being to the Ranyhyn that was answering his call。
The wait nearly froze the blood in his veins； but at last the Ranyhyn reached the hills around Glimmermere； and nickered in salutation。
Mhoram groaned at the sight。 In order to answer his call； the Ranyhyn must have left the Plains of Ra scores of days ago…must have fled Satansfist's army to run straight across the Center Plains into the Westron Mountains； then found its pathless way among the high winter of the peaks northward to the spur of the range which jutted east and ended in the plateau of Revelstone。 The long ordeal of the mountain trek had exacted a severe price from the great stallion。 His flesh hung slack over gaunt ribs； he stumbled painfully on swollen joints； and his coat had a look of ragged misery。 Still Mhoram recognized the Ranyhyn； and greeted him with all the respect his voice could carry：
〃Hail； Drinny； proud Ranyhyn！ Oh； bravely done！ Worthy son of a worthy mother。 Tail of the Sky； Mane of the World； I am〃…a clench of emotion caught his throat； and he could only whisper…〃I am honored。''
Drinny made a valiant effort to trot up to Mhoram； but when he reached the High Lord he rested his head trembling on Mhoram's shoulder as if he needed the support in order to keep his feet。 Mhoram hugged his neck； whispered words of praise and encouragement in his ear； stroked his ice…clogged coat。 They stood together as if in their differing weaknesses they were making promises to each other。 Then Mhoram answered the nudging of Drinny's unquenchable pride by springing onto the Ranyhyn's back。 Warming the great horse with his staff； he rode slowly； resolutely； back toward Revelstone。
The ride took time…time made arduous and agonizing by the frailty of Drinny's muscles； his painful； exhausted stumbling。 While they passed down through the hills； Mhoram's own weariness returned； and he remembered his inadequacy； his stupefying dread。 But he had placed his feet on the strait path of his faith； now he held the Ranyhyn between his knees and bound himself in his determination not to turn aside。 Drinny had answered his call。 While his thoughts retained some vestige of Glimmermere's clarity； he made his plans。
Then at last his mount limped down into the wide tunnel which led into Lord's Keep。 The clop of hooves echoed faintly against the smooth stone walls and ceiling…echoed and scurried ahead of the High Lord like a murmurous announcement of his return。 Soon he could feel the voices of the Keep spreading word of him； proclaiming that he had e back on a Ranyhyn。 People left their work and hastened to the main passage of the tunnel to see him。 They lined his way； muttered in wonder or pain at the sight of the Ranyhyn； whispered intently to each other about the look of focused danger which shone in his eyes。 Down into the Keep he rode as if he were borne on a low current of astonishment and hope。
After he had ridden a few hundred yards along the main ways of Revelstone； he saw ahead of him the other leaders of the city…the Lords Trevor； Amatin； and Loerya； Warmark Quaan； the two Hearthralls； Tohrm and Borillar。 They awaited him as if they had e out together to do him honor。 When the Ranyhyn stopped before them； they saluted the High Lord and his mount mutely； lacking words for what they felt。
He gazed back at them for a moment； studied them。 In their separate ways； they were all haggard； needy； stained with battle。 Quaan in particular appeared extravagantly worn。 His bluff old face was knotted into a habitual scowl now； as if only the clench of constant belligerence held the pieces of his being together。 And Amatin； too； looked nearly desperate； her physical slightness seemed to drain her moral stamina。 Borillar's face was full of tears that Mhoram knew came from the loss of Thomas Covenant。 Trevor and Loerya supported each other； unable to remain upright alone。 Of them all； only Tohrm was calm； and his calm was the steadiness of a man who had already passed through his personal crisis。 Nothing could be worse for him than the stone Desecration he had experienced in the Close…experienced and mastered。 The others met Mhoram with concentrated hope and dismay and suspense and effectlessness in their faces… expressions which begged to know what this returning on a Ranyhyn meant。
He nodded to their silent salute； then dropped heavily from Drinny's back and moved a step or two closer to them。 On the only level for which he had sufficient strength…the level of his authority…he answered them。 He spoke softly； but his voice was raw with peril。 〃Hear me。 I am Mhoram son of Variol； High Lord by the choice of the Council。 I have taken my decision。 Hear me and obey。 Warmark Quaan； Drinny of the Ranyhyn must be given care。 He must be fed and healed…he must be returned swiftly to his strength。 I will ride him soon。
〃Lords； Hearthralls； Warmark…the watchtower of Revelstone must be regained。 The gates of the Keep must be cleared。 Do it swiftly。 Warmark； ready the horses of the Warward。 Prepare all mounted warriors and as many unmounted as you deem fit…prepare them to march against samadhi Satansfist。 We strike as soon as our way has been made clear。〃
He could see that his mands stunned them； that they were appalled at the mad prospect of attacking the Raver's army。