Against All Things Ending (9 page)

Surely she should retrieve her Staff and Covenant’s ring? They remained on the grass, discarded as if they had betrayed her. They would have no value to her unless she claimed them again.

Perhaps, she thought, she should try to claim Loric’s
krill
as well. Its brightness defended Andelain; but now Andelain was doomed. Loric’s dagger may have been the highest achievement of the Old Lords—and it could not save the Hills. Nevertheless it might continue to draw power from Joan’s wedding band when Covenant’s was gone.

It might save Linden herself.

Or Jeremiah.

Briefly.

That was all she asked. She had gone too far, and done too much harm, to expect anything more.

Yet she hesitated without knowing why. The Staff of Law belonged to her. In some sense, Covenant had left his ring to her. But she had no claim on the
krill
. No right to it.

She wanted to ask the Harrow, Do you still believe that Infelice will stop you from taking me to Jeremiah? Even now?

But this decision was hers to make. It did not belong to either the
Elohim
or the Insequent.

Before she could make her last remaining choice, however, Manethrall Mahrtiir abruptly jerked up his head.

“
Aliantha!
” he barked as if he were astonished or ashamed that he had not thought of this earlier. “Cords, find
aliantha
.”

Bhapa and Pahni exchanged a baffled glance. In confusion, Pahni looked quickly at Liand. But they were Ramen: they obeyed their Manethrall at once. Dodging between the Ranyhyn, they sprinted up the slopes of the hollow until they passed beyond the reach of the
krill
’s argence.

“Manethrall?” asked Stave.

Perplexed, Coldspray, Grueburn, and their comrades frowned at Mahrtiir.

“The first Ringthane must have healing,” he replied harshly. “There is much here that lies beyond my comprehension—aye, beyond even my desire for comprehension. Yet it is plain to me, though I have no sight, that some portion of his suffering is mere human frailty. He has been given flesh which is too weak and flawed to contain his spirit.

“No balm known to the Ramen will ease the ardor and constriction of his reborn pain. But
aliantha
will supply the most urgent needs of his flesh. Mayhap it will grant him the strength to awaken—and perhaps to speak.”

Stave nodded; and some of the grimness lifted from the faces of the Giants. “Manethrall!” Liand exclaimed gladly. “The sight which you do not possess surpasses mine, which is whole.
Aliantha
, indeed! Why was this not our first thought rather than our last?”

Because, Linden answered to herself mordantly, you were distracted. As she had been. Like her companions, she had concentrated on other forms of healing.

Now she felt that she would never be able to meet Covenant’s gaze again. She could hardly bear to look into the faces of her friends, whom she had misled and misused.

She meant to leave them all behind. She did not want to expose them to the hazards of the Harrow’s dark intentions.

Covenant had professed his faith in her.
She’s the only one who can do this
. Linden would have found his sick and shattered condition easier to endure if he had spurned her utterly.

The idea that he still trusted her felt like a cruel joke.

Among Andelain’s wealth of gifts, the Cords did not have to search far for treasure-berries. Pahni had already re-entered the vale with a handful of the viridian fruit. And as she hastened fluidly down the slope, Bhapa caught the light at the rim of the hollow. At the same time, Mahrtiir walked around the Ranyhyn and the Giants and the
krill
to approach Covenant. Kneeling, the Manethrall gently, kindly, eased the Unbeliever around onto his back. Then Mahrtiir seated himself cross-legged at Covenant’s head and lifted it onto the support of his shins.

Linden could not watch. Deliberately she turned away from the group around Covenant as she stooped to grasp the carved black wood of her Staff. For an instant, she feared that she had burned away its readiness for Earthpower and Law. At once, however, she found that the Staff was whole, unharmed. Its strict warmth steadied her hand as she picked up Covenant’s ring, looped its chain over her head, and let the white gold dangle against her sternum.

Now, she commanded herself. Do it now.

Nevertheless she hesitated, gripped by a pang like a premonition of loss. Her own intentions frightened her. Even more than her Staff, Covenant’s wedding band symbolized the meaning of her life. When she surrendered such things, she would have nothing left.

Nothing apart from Jeremiah.

His need compelled her. If she kept nothing for herself except her son, she would find a way to be content.

Clutching the Staff until her knuckles ached, she crossed lush grass to bargain with the Harrow.

As ornately clad as a courtier, the Insequent sat his huge destrier a dozen or more paces away from everyone else. As Linden approached, the beast rolled its eyes in terror or fury: the muscles of its flanks quivered. Yet it stood stiffly under the Harrow’s steady hand. The bottomless gulfs of his eyes regarded her hungrily, but did not attempt to draw her into their depths. A smile like a smug obscenity twisted his mouth. In order to face him, she had to remind herself grimly that his power was like his apparel, acquired rather than innate. Behind his condescension and his greed and his complex magicks, he was a more ordinary man than Liand of Mithil Stonedown, who had inherited the ancient birthright of his people.

If Linden could have closed her senses to the company behind her, she would have done so. But her nerves were still too raw; too exposed. Involuntarily she felt the Ranyhyn move until they formed a wide circle around Covenant and Mahrtiir and the Cords, Liand and the Humbled. There the star-browed horses stood as if to bear witness. And among the Ranyhyn, the Giants assembled. Even the attention of the
Elohim
was fixed on Covenant rather than on Linden and the Harrow.

Only Stave walked away from the Manethrall’s efforts to care for the first Ringthane. Alone the outcast
Haruchai
came to stand with Linden.

She did not want to follow what Mahrtiir was doing, she did
not
. In spite of her efforts to seal her senses, however, she felt his tension and concern as he accepted a treasure-berry from Pahni and broke it open with his teeth to remove the seed. He could not know what would happen when he fed
aliantha
to Covenant. He could only remain true to himself—and put his trust in the Land’s largesse.

Carefully he parted Covenant’s lips to accept the fruit. Then he began to stroke Covenant’s throat, encouraging the unconscious man to swallow.

Linden glared into the Harrow’s eyes as if she were impervious to his assumed superiority. Hoarsely she rasped, “You said that you can take me to my son.”

There is a service which I am able to perform for you, and which you will not obtain from any other living being
.

“Indeed.” The Insequent’s voice was deep and fertile; ripe with avarice. He met her gaze like a man who yearned to devour her. “My knowledge encompasses both his hiding place and the means by which he has remained hidden. And I am able to move at will from one place to another in this time, as the foolish Mahdoubt has informed you.”

For moments that felt long to Linden’s unwilling nerves, Covenant did not respond to the
aliantha
on his tongue. But Mahrtiir was patient. And even if Covenant did not swallow, his mouth itself would absorb some of the berry’s virtue.

“The Worm of the World’s End is coming,” she replied to the Harrow, speaking as distinctly as the quaver in her heart allowed. “There’s nothing you can do about it. Does that make you re-think anything? Anything at all? Do you still want what I have?”

Did he still covet the responsibility implied by the Staff of Law and Covenant’s ring?

Suspense gathered around Covenant and the Manethrall. The Giants and the Humbled, the Cords and Liand and even the Ranyhyn studied the fallen Timewarden for some sign that the fruit’s rich juice or Mahrtiir’s ministrations might unclose his throat.

Linden felt the collective sigh of the Swordmainnir as Covenant swallowed reflexively.

The Manethrall bowed his head over Covenant for a moment. Then he readied another treasure-berry.

“I do, lady,” answered the Harrow avidly. “And I am not as ignorant of the Worm as Infelice chooses to imagine. The Earth’s ruin need not transpire as she asserts that it must. With the powers that you will enable me to wield, and by means which the
Elohim
fear to contemplate, I will demonstrate that no doom is inevitable—apart from the destruction which falls upon those who dare to oppose me.”

“All right.” Linden took a moment to confirm that she was sure. But the possibility that Covenant might awaken did not affect her decision. She needed to take one more absolute risk. Nothing less would serve her now. And she knew the cost of trying to escape her burdens. “If you’re that arrogant—or that blind—or that clever—tell me what you’ll offer in exchange.”

Without visible transition, Infelice stood in the air near Linden and the Harrow, floating so that she could face him directly with her gleaming indignation—or so that she could fling her distress down at Linden.

An instant later, the whole vale was transformed as a host of Wraiths came streaming into the hollow from every direction. Warmly they lit the dark. In spite of herself, Linden turned her head, expecting to see scores or hundreds of dancing eldritch candle-flames rush toward her as if they had been summoned by the possibility of conflict between the
Elohim
and the Insequent.

But they did not appear to be aware of her; or of Infelice and the Harrow. Instead they gathered around Mahrtiir and Covenant.

Infelice demanded Linden’s attention. “Linden Avery,” she protested in anguish and ire, “Wildwielder, you must not. Does the harm of this night fail to content you? The Insequent speaks of forces which he cannot comprehend. He will hasten the reaving of the
Elohim
and accomplish no worthy purpose. He will merely gain for himself a scant, false glory while the world falls.”

Stave ignored the
Elohim
. He did not glance at the Wraiths or Covenant. As if Infelice had not spoken, he said inflexibly, “Be wary, Chosen. I mislike the word of this Insequent. And the exchange which you contemplate is unequal in his favor. It may be greatly so. With wild magic and Law, perhaps wielded through High Lord Loric’s
krill
, he will acquire an imponderable might—and you will receive only your son. He may prove powerless against the Worm, and still wreak untold havoc ere the end, leaving naught but despair to those who briefly retain their lives.”

Linden hardly heard either of them. Held by surprise at the return of the Wraiths, she watched them bob and flicker over Covenant’s unconsciousness. The precise yellow-and-orange of their fires countered the inhuman silver of the
krill
. Chiming like the highest bells of a distant carillon, nameless and ineffable, they alit in throngs on his arms and legs, his torso, his face. And each touch was an infusion of their arcane vitality. Together they wove health through him, repairing his over-burdened flesh.

In spite of their generosity, Linden discerned no indication that the Wraiths would or could affect the fissuring of his mind. Nor did they relieve his leprosy. It was inherent to him. It may have been necessary. Nevertheless they swarmed to expend themselves so that his body would be able to bear the strain of his incalculable spirit.

When each Wraith had given its gift, its answer to the animosity between the
Elohim
and the Insequent, it danced away so that its place could be taken by another small flame.

Reassured, Linden faced Infelice and the Harrow again. Fervently she replied to both Stave and the
Elohim
.

“I’m not worried about that. If he’s wrong—if he can’t stop the Worm—he’ll die like the rest of us. But he may not be wrong. He didn’t work so long and hard for this just so that he can enjoy a few days of empty superiority. And I am going to free my son. I can’t do anything else, but I can try to do that. I’m going to stop his suffering. I’m going to hold him in my arms at least one more time before the Worm gets us. If he and I have to die, his last memory is going to be that I love him.”

For the span of several heartbeats, Stave considered Linden. When he was confident of what he saw with his single eye, he said simply, “Then I am content.”

“
I
am not!” shouted Infelice: a raw blare of passion that reminded Linden of Esmer’s eerie power. “Wildwielder, you have become Desecration incarnate. Your folly is too vast to be called by any other name. Do you not grasp that the Harrow intends a fate far more malign than mere extinction for the
Elohim
?”

Before she could continue, the Harrow laughed contemptuously. “You are mistaken,
Elohim
, as is your wont. When I have gained that which I crave, you and your kind will be spared, left free to nurture your surquedry in any form that pleases you. I will either fail or succeed. If I fail, your plight remains unaltered. If I succeed, you will be restored to your rightful place in the life of the Earth. Therefore silence your plaint. It is naught but pettiness and self-pity.”

“Do you conceive,” countered Infelice, “that your word has worth in such matters? It does not. This is some elaborate chicane to gain your desires. You are
mortal
, Insequent. Your human mind cannot contain the scale of your doomed intent.”

Linden braced herself to tell Infelice and the Harrow to
shut up
. She had had enough of their antagonism: it shed no light on the darkness of her decisions. But before she could demand their silence, she heard Covenant.

The Wraiths had revived him. Still lying with his head propped on Mahrtiir’s shins, he spoke softly: a mere wisp of sound in the fretted night. Nevertheless his voice carried as though he had the authority to command the very air of the vale.