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tly canted upward under him； he fell to his hands and knees。 A wave of numbness and lassitude ran through him as if it were springing from the frostbite in his hands and feet。
Something shook his head； something was hitting him on the side of his head。 At first； the ice protected him； then it broke away with a tearing pain as if it had taken his ear with it。 The howling of wind demons rushed at him； and he almost did not hear Quirrel shout； 〃Hills！ Foothills！ Climb！ Find shelter！〃
He was an old man； too old for such labor。 He was a strong Stonedown Cattleherd； and did not intend to die frozen and useless。 He lumbered to his feet； struggled upward。
Leaning weakly back against the wind； he ascended the ragged slope。 He realized dimly that both wind and snow were less now。 But still he could see nothing； now the storm itself was wrapped in night。 When the slope became too steep for the wind to push him up it； he turned to the side which offered the least resistance and went on； lumbering blindly through knee…deep snow； letting the blizzard guide him wherever it chose。
Yet in spite of the night and the storm； his senses became slowly aware of looming rock walls。 The wind lost its single fury； turned to frigid gusts and eddies； and he limped between sheer； close cliffs into a valley。 But the disruption of the storm's force came too late to save him。 The valley floor lay waist…deep in heavy gray snow； and he was too exhausted to make much headway against it。 Once again； he found he was supporting a rade； Quirrel hung from his shoulders like spent mortality。 Soon he could go no farther。 He fell into a snowbank； gasping into the snow；' Tire。 Must…fire。〃
But his hands were too frozen； his arms were too locked in ice。 He could not reach his lomillialor rod； could never have pulled flame from it。 Quirrel had already lost her graveling。 And his was in his pack。 It might as well have been lost also； he could not free his shoulders from the pack straps。 He tried to rouse Quirrel； failed。 The lower half of her face was caked in ice； and her eyelids fluttered as if she were going into shock。
〃Fire；〃 Triock rasped。 He was sobbing and could not stop。 Frustration and exhaustion overwhelmed him。 The snow towered above him as if it would go on forever。
Tears froze his eyes shut； and when he pried them open again； he saw a yellow flame flickering its way toward him。 He stared at it dumbly。 It bobbed and weaved forward as if it were riding the wick of an invisible candle until it was so close to his face that he could feel its warm radiance on his eyeballs。 But it had no wick。 It stood in the air before his face and flickered urgently； as if it were trying to tell him something。
He could not move； he felt that ice and exhaustion had already frozen his limbs to the ground。 But when he glanced away from the flame； he saw others； three or four more； dancing around him and Quirrel。 One of them touched her forehead as if it were trying to catch her attention。 When it failed； it flared slightly； and at once all the flames left； scurried away down the valley。 Triock watched them go as if they were his last hope。
Then the cold came over him like slumber； and he began to lose consciousness。 Unable to help himself； he sagged toward night。 The cold and the snow and the valley faded and were replaced by vague faces… Lena； Elena； Atiaran； Trell； Saltheart Foamfollower； Thomas Covenant。 They all regarded him with supplication； imploring him to do something。 If he failed； their deaths would have no meaning。 〃Forgive me；〃 he breathed； speaking especially to Covenant。 〃Forgive。〃
〃Perhaps I shall；〃 a distant voice replied。 〃It will not be easy…I do not desire these intrusions。 But you bear a rare token。 I see that I must at least help you。〃
Struggling； Triock turned his sight outward again。 The air over his head was bright with dancing flames； each no larger than his hand。 And among them stood a tall man dressed only in a long robe the color of granite。 He met Triock's gaze awkwardly； as if he were unaccustomed to dealing with eyes other than his own。 But when Triock croaked； 〃Help；〃 he replied quickly； 〃Yes。 I will help you。 Have no fear。〃
Moving decisively； he knelt； pulled open Triock's cloak and tunic； and placed one warm palm on his chest。 The man sang softly to himself； and as he did so； Triock felt a surge of heat pour into him。 His pulse steadied almost at once； his breathing unclenched； with wondrous speed； the possibility of movement returned to his limbs。 Then the man turned away to help Quirrel。 By the time Triock was on his feet among the bobbing flames； she had regained consciousness。
He recognized the flames now； he had heard of them in some of the happiest and saddest legends of the Land。 They were Wraiths。 As he shook his head clear of ice； he heard through the gusting wind snatches of their light crystal song； music like the melody of perfect quartz。 They danced about him as if they were asking him questions which he would never be able to understand or answer； and their lights bemused him； so that he stood entranced among them。
The tall man distracted him by helping Quirrel to her feet。 Surrounded by Wraiths； he raised her； supported her until she could stand on her own。 Then for a moment he looked unfortably back and forth between her and Triock。 He seemed to be asking himself if he could justify leaving them there； not helping them further。 Almost at once； however； he made his decision。 The distant roar of the blizzard rose and fell as if some hungry storm…animal strove to gain access to the valley。 He shivered and said； 'e。 Foul's winter is no place for flesh and blood。〃
As the man turned to move toward the upper end of the valley； Triock said abruptly； 〃You are One of the Unfettered。〃
〃Yes。 Yet I aid you。'' His voice vanished as soon as it appeared on the tattered wind。 〃I was once Woodhelvennin。 The hand of the Forest is upon me… And you〃…he was thrusting powerfully away through the snow as if he were talking to himself； as if he had been panionless for so long that he had forgotten how people listen…〃bear lomillialor。〃
Triock and Quirrel pushed after him。 His gait was strong； unweary； but by following his path through the drifts； they were able to keep up with him。 The Wraiths lighted their way with crystal music until Triock felt that he was moving through a pocket of Andelain； a brief eldritch incarnation of clean light and warmth amid the Gray Slayer's preternatural malevolence。 In the dancing encouragement of the flames； he was able to disregard his great fatigue and follow the Unfettered One's song：
Lone
Unfriended
Bondless
Lone…
Drink of loss until 'tis done：
Til solitude has e and gone；
And silence is munion…
And yet
Unfriended
Bondless
Lone。
Slowly； they worked their way up to the end of the valley。 It was blocked by a huge litter of boulders； but the Unfettered One led them along an intricate path through the rocks。 Beyond； they entered a sheer ravine which gradually closed over their heads until they were walking into a black cave lit only by the flickering of the Wraiths。 In time； the crooked length of the cave shut out all the wind and winter。 Warmth grew around Triock and Quirrel； causing their garments to drip thickly。 And ahead they saw more light。
Then they reached the cave end； the Unfettered One's home。 Here the cave expanded to form a large chamber； and all of it was alive with light and music； as scores of Wraiths flamed and curtsied in the air。 Some of them cycled through the center of the chamber； and others hung near the black walls as if to illuminate inscriptions on the gleaming facets of the stone。 The floor was rude granite marked by lumps and projecting surfaces which the Unfettered One clearly used as chairs； tables； bed。 But the walls and ceiling were as black as obsidian； and they were covered with reflective irregular planes like the myriad fragments of a broken mirror in which the Wraith light would have dazzled the beholders if the surfaces had not been made of black stone。 As it was； the chamber was warm and evocative； it seemed a fit plac