Against All Things Ending (100 page)

Without hesitation, Clyme left Branl and Covenant. He flung himself at the corner where the blockade of slate joined the sheer hill. Somehow he wedged or clawed his way upward. When he reached the top of the slate, he straddled it.

Branl lifted Covenant; threw him upward. Clyme snagged one of Covenant’s slack arms, nearly jerked it from its socket. While Clyme settled Covenant beside him, Branl climbed to join them.

Undefended, Mhornym and Naybahn faced the corrosive
skest
.

Blood pulsed from a cut on Covenant’s forehead. He recalled striking his head on the edge of a table. Blood formed trails around his eyes, ran down his cheeks, dripped from his jaw. A gash along his ribs throbbed. The side of Branl’s neck had been torn: a shallow cut. Clyme wore several minor hurts. The barricade must have shielded them from the
caesure
’s worst violence.

Alone within himself, Covenant strove to locate a recollection that might affect his plight.

Instead he stumbled into Joan’s recent past, perhaps moments before his resurrection. She looked worse than he had ever seen her in life: a madwoman unkempt and tattered, gap-toothed with malnutrition, no longer capable of focusing her eyes; so utterly frail that she required a throng of acid-creatures and much of
turiya
’s savagery to keep her alive. For some reason, she was clambering, friable as glass, down the granitic wreckage where Foul’s Creche had once stood. By weak increments painful to behold, she descended toward the Sunbirth Sea. Was she afraid? Trying to escape her own future? Did she think that
turiya
Herem would allow her to drown among the waves? Or was she seeking older stone, more fundamental rocks and boulders which she could then destroy to unleash greater
caesures
?

The
skest
massed at the opening of the maze. But they did not move to assail the Ranyhyn. Perhaps they were content to prevent escape. Perhaps their master, the Raver, had assured them that Joan would strike again soon.

Remembering her, Covenant tried to call out. Stop this! Please stop! You’ve already suffered too much! But of course she could not hear him. He was a wraith, a figment of memory, no longer a participant in the Arch: too insubstantial to intrude on her derangement and
turiya
’s possession.

Grimacing in dismay, he turned aside, staggered into another fissure, and found himself in Andelain.

Not in Andelain itself: not among the tangible Hills. Instead he stood beside the
krill
, beside the withered stump of Caer-Caveral’s passing, within an image of Andelain, a semblance composed of recollection and symbolism. And he was not alone.

Berek Halfhand was with him, Heartthew and Lord-Fatherer. Loric Vilesilencer, creator of the
krill
. Saltheart Foamfollower, who had laughed, and Cable Seadreamer, who could not. Mhoram Variol-son, representing the later generation of Lords. Cail of the
Haruchai
. Jerrick of Vidik Amar, wrapped in shadows, who had shared his magicks with a-Jeroth, and had watched in shattering consternation as a-Jeroth had brought forth
quellvisks
. The Theomach, alone of the Insequent, clad in cerements after his defeat by Brinn.

Covenant remembered this. He and these spirits had gathered together in an effort to imagine or devise some form of salvation.

They all deferred to him. His was the only soul unconstrained by the strictures of Time.

But he could only recall pieces of their counsel.

He did not know why the
skest
waited. He did not care.

Branl shook him. “Ur-Lord. You must return. There will be another Fall. We cannot ward you. And we must not abandon the Ranyhyn to this death.”

The injuries of the Humbled were trivial. They would heal. The wound of Covenant’s mind would not.

It is hazardous, Berek said. Hazardous beyond measure. There is the breaking of Laws to consider. There is the Worm.

I know, Covenant said. And Kevin’s Dirt. And Kastenessen. And Cail’s son.

A litany more heinous than any number of
skest
.

The lealty of my people, Cail added. They are obdurate and mistaken. Also there are
skurj
. There are Sandgorgons. Kastenessen rules the one.
Samadhi
Sheol entices the other.

Dull-eyed and unblinking, Covenant saw small fires shine greenly in the twilight cast by the Shattered Hills. The Feroce had come at last. With emerald lambent in their hands, they approached from the northwest, beyond the
skest
.

The
skest
seemed to be waiting for them. For an alliance of one kind or another to be revealed. But did they believe that promises would be kept between Covenant and the lurker of the Sarangrave? Or did they expect the sundered descendants of the
jheherrin
to reunite,
skest
with Feroce? Did they believe that the lurker would betray Covenant?

I include the Giant named Lostson and Longwrath, Foamfollower said. He is ruled by a
geas
born of a dire bargain and cannot free himself.

Terrible banes are immured among the bones of Gravin Threndor, Loric said. Even the Illearth Stone must be considered.

Branl or Clyme should have taken the
krill
. They could use it. But perhaps they suspected that the grasp of any hand on Loric’s dagger might catch Joan’s attention; draw another
caesure
.

A white gold wielder is possessed by a Raver, the Theomach said. That alone suffices to unloose a world of woe.

I know
, Covenant said again.

This whole discussion had taken place years ago. It was only a memory. But it had more power over him than any facet of his physical present. He needed to remember it. Parts of it might rescue him.

Parts were already irretrievable.

My friend of old, Mhoram said. It falls to me to speak of your own son. He lacks Esmer’s unfathomable powers, but also Esmer’s self-torment. His is an unrelieved darkness, born of abandonment and nurtured by Despite. He will do much which Esmer would not.

Also, as the Theomach has said, there is the woman who turned from you, your son’s mother. She trusts to him, though she has given him naught. She is a rightful wielder of white gold, yes—and possessed by
turiya
Herem, yes. She will oppose you. Yet she is broken beyond sufferance. Her need for mercy is absolute.

Also there is Linden Avery. There is her child freely chosen. None here can declare which of them bears the greater burden of pain. None here possess the wisdom to estimate the outcome of his loss, or the worth of his recovery. We can be certain only that the Despiser craves him urgently.

Like the surge of the departing sea, the Feroce came upon the
skest
. Hand-held fires like reminders of the Illearth Stone met living green vitriol, another echo of the Stone’s evil.

Without sounds or battle cries, without any sign of clashing, they began to obliterate each other. Feroce flared and were consumed.
Skest
slumped into puddles that gnawed like infections at the stone. Gouts and flames slashed the premature dusk.

Foamfollower looked at Seadreamer. When Seadreamer nodded, Foamfollower said, You ask that we repose faith in Linden Avery the Chosen. We are content to do so. We are Giants. We cannot do otherwise.

I have received the gift of her acquaintance, said the Theomach. I also am content.

She will sacrifice the Earth entire for her son, Loric said. And for you, Timewarden. I am not content. We must seek another path.

I know, Covenant said a third time. She’ll do anything for Jeremiah. She’ll do anything for me. That’s the risk we have to take. You were never in her situation. Are you sure you wouldn’t have done as much for Kevin, if you ever had the chance?

Thereafter Loric was silent.

An eerie battle burned and spat among the descendants of the
jheherrin
. It was as soundless as a charade. Nevertheless the lurker’s creatures and
turiya
Raver’s died in each encounter.

The lurker was keeping its promise. Sacrificing its worshippers. For Covenant.

He did not know how many Feroce had come. He did not know how many
skest
waited in the passages of the maze. But he knew the acid of
turiya
Herem’s servants. Before long, the entire expanse of stone between his perch and the advancing Feroce would begin to crumble. If the cliff’s rim did not fall away at once, it would collapse under any weight.

The Ranyhyn may have already lost their only escape. Clyme and Branl might never be able to reach the cleft into the Shattered Hills.

This, then, is my counsel, Cail said. I speak as one who also has a son, and who is grieved by his wrongs. We must abide by the judgment of the Ranyhyn. They are an embodiment of the Land. We are not. And they are attuned to the Law of Time. While we are in accord, their discernment will guide us well.

The
caesure
had left a hollow behind the sheet of slate. Reaching back, Branl found chunks of stone fresh from the Fall’s vehemence. Swift and certain, he threw them at the
skest
.

And that’s not all, Covenant said. I’ve seen things some of you haven’t. Sure, the
Haruchai
serve Lord Foul. But they might surprise you. They might surprise
him
. If anything can sway them, the Ranyhyn can. Or the Ramen.

Branl’s aim was unerring. With every cast, he ruptured one or more of the
skest
. The skin of its life tore, spilling sickness to the ground. Rank vitriol steamed on the stone; corroded it; left it pitted and fragile.

The Ranyhyn heeded his example. Shards and scree littered the space between them and the struggle, Feroce against
skest
. Turning, Naybahn and Mhornym used their hind legs to kick stones at the
skest
. Fatal as missiles, chunks of rock hurtled among the creatures; slew several of them.

Then Branl appeared to realize that he was hastening the ruin of the cliffedge. The Ranyhyn would be trapped. They would be stuck where they stood until they died.

Glaring, Branl ceased his attacks.

Mhornym and Naybahn did not.

Clyme shook Covenant again, harder this time. “Ur-Lord!” His severity was a slap which Covenant could not feel. “Doom gathers below us. We must act. We must act now!”

My counsel is of another kind, the Theomach said. Time is the keystone of life, just as wild magic is the keystone of Time. It is Time which is endangered. The path to its preservation lies through Time.

And Berek said, The Theomach has been my guide and teacher. His counsel is mine as well.

There
, Covenant thought. That was the answer.

He lost it immediately. Eager to understand, he tripped into another fissure. Instead of standing in Andelain, he wandered uselessly through the rich twilight beneath the canopy of the One Forest. He remembered the lazy hum of insects, the mellifluous evensong of birds; the fecund scents of loam and moss and ferns, natural decay, ripe growth.

But he did not lose everything.

Joan had her wedding band. She was using wild magic against the Land. It could be used against her.

Without warning, Clyme struck Covenant, an open-handed blow that snapped his head to the side, sent shocks down his spine.

Around him, the One Forest seemed to ripple as though every tree and leaf and breeze had become water. Monarchs which had held their ground for hundreds of years shimmered like mirages.

The Feroce may have been winning. They appeared to outnumber the
skest
.

Turiya
could send more. No doubt he had already done so.

With an effort like a rush of vertigo, Covenant moaned, “Again.”

Clyme did not hesitate. A second jolt caught Covenant’s head from the opposite side. Repercussions rattled his vertebrae.

It was too late. Covenant could not fight the
skest
. He could not touch the
krill
. Not yet.

He had to try something else.

“Hit me again.”

This time, Clyme punched the cut in the center of Covenant’s forehead.

Hellfire! That one
hurt!

While new blood streamed into Covenant’s eyes, he found his way back to himself.

Scrubbing at his face with both hands, he panted, “That’s enough. I can’t take any more. Next time, try the
krill
.”

It might sever him from the past.

But he did not pause to thank the Humbled. As soon as he could see, he yelled at the Feroce, “A path! We need a
path
!”

If the clifftop could still hold anything heavier than the turmoil of small creatures—

The lurker’s servants must have heard him. Mute as martyrs in the apotheosis of their devotion, they adjusted their approach. Instead of pressing themselves and dying against all of the
skest
at once, they shifted to form a wedge.

Arranged like ur-viles or Waynhim, they began to kill and perish their way into the mass of acid-creatures.

“Now!” Covenant told Clyme and Branl. “I have an idea!”

He was closed to the senses of the
Haruchai
. They could not hear his thoughts; could hardly recognize his emotions. Nevertheless Branl responded as though he understood. Quick as intuition, he dropped from the slate; landed between Naybahn and Mhornym, where the stone was still solid. A heartbeat later, Clyme lifted Covenant, tossed him into Branl’s arms. While Branl set Covenant on his feet, Clyme jumped down to join them.

Already most of the Feroce were gone, consumed in fire and vitriol. Many of the
skest
had fallen, reeking as their spent lives dissolved stone, ate chunks out of the clifftop. Wherever they died, they left deep pits and gouges.

“All right,” Covenant muttered as if he were Linden. “Let’s see if this works.”

He took the
krill
from his waist. Careful not to touch any part of the dagger, he flipped its covering aside until he had exposed the gem.