The Last Dark (13 page)

There Covenant dismounted. At once, Mishio Massima lowered its head to the grass as if nothing mattered except food. Carrying the
krill
again, Branl remained with Covenant while Clyme rode ahead to gather more berries so that Covenant would not be required to waste time searching for a sufficient meal.

At the first tang of the fruit in his mouth, Covenant seemed to feel Brinn’s hand reaching out to him across the leagues and hours; touching his sore forehead and damaged ribs and battered arms with renewal. In its own way,
aliantha
was as much a gift as the
ak-Haru
’s aid, and as precious. It answered questions which the Humbled had not asked.

It was for
this
that Covenant had to find and stop
turiya
, and then go on to the next battle, and the next. Not for the lurker. Not for the
Elohim
, in spite of their slow, inexorable decimation. Not even for Linden, although his ache for her resembled weeping. No, it was for
aliantha
that he had to fight: for treasure-berries, and for Wraiths; for hurtloam and Glimmermere and Salva Gildenbourne, Andelain and EarthBlood; for the Ranyhyn and their Ramen; for ur-viles and Waynhim; and for every mortal heart as valiant and treasurable as Liand’s, or as Anele’s. For their sake, he had to catch up with the Raver. He had to find a way.

When he had eaten enough to take the edge off his hunger, he began to pace slowly, chewing fruit, scattering seeds, and talking. The numbness of his feet made him feel that he walked a friable surface tipping him toward vertigo. Nevertheless he persevered. He needed to hear his thoughts aloud in order to believe in them. And he needed movement to loosen the knots that bound him to his limitations.

The Worm was coming. Lord Foul’s triumph drew closer with every hesitation, every delay. The Land could not be saved by anything less than extravagant efforts and hope.

Hope did not come easily to lepers. But Covenant had learned that there were better answers than grim survival and despair. He had been taught by more friends and loves than he could count.

Unsteadily he ate, and marked out a circle on the giving ground with his steps, and talked.

“I keep thinking about Linden,” he muttered as if he were speaking to Branl. With a wave of one hand, he dismissed a protest which his companion did not utter. “I was watching her. I remember her life almost as well as mine.

“She should have died when she first arrived on Kevin’s Watch. A
caesure
broke the Watch right after she met Anele. All those tons of shattered granite collapsed like they fell from the sky. She should have been crushed. They both should have been reduced to pulp. But she kept them alive.

“I’m asking myself, how did she
do
that?”

Concentrating on other things, he lost his balance as if he had tripped. He almost fell. The deadening of his nerves was becoming extreme. Still he was familiar with such dilemmas. The loss of sensation was like Unbelief. It could be managed. Sometimes it could be set aside. And under the right circumstances, it could become a form of strength.

How else had he twice defeated the Despiser?

“I was watching,” he repeated as he resumed his tread. “I saw what happened. I mean, what
literally
happened. She slipped outside time. And she took Anele with her. Somehow she bypassed cause and effect and even ordinary gravity so that she and Anele came down on top of the rubble instead of under it. Hell, she didn’t even break bones.

“But
how
? That was a neat trick. How did she manage it?”

Peripherally Covenant noticed Clyme’s return. But the Unbeliever did not interrupt the awkward whirl, the vertigo in slow motion, of his paced circle.

“It’s obvious, really. She did it with wild magic. She used my ring, even though she had no idea what she was doing, and she certainly never did anything like that before. It must have been pure reflex. Raw instinct. But that part doesn’t matter. What matters is, she
did
it. She proved it’s possible.

“If wild magic is the keystone of the Arch of Time, it
participates
somehow.” Those words raised echoes for him. They implied memories which eluded recognition. “You could say Linden did the opposite of what Joan was doing. Instead of shattering pieces of time, she found her way around them.”

The Humbled studied him in silence. Their faces remained as blank as age-worn carvings.

“Well.” Unaware of what he did, Covenant spread gestures in all directions as if he were flinging out his arms for balance; as if he sought to encompass the world. “If she could do it, why can’t we? After all, my poor son and that damned
croyel
did it. They slipped through time to take her into the past. Which the Mahdoubt also knew how to do. And they slipped past distance to reach
Melenkurion
Skyweir. Which both the Harrow and the Ardent knew how to do. So why don’t we do the same thing?”

There was something that he needed to remember, but he did not try to force it. Instead he let the past reach him in its own way.

Clyme slid down from Hooryl’s back. Lifting the hem of his tunic, he showed Covenant that he carried a feast of treasure-berries. But Covenant did not pause. He could not stop talking now, even for the Land’s largesse.

“Ignorance, I suppose. We don’t know what Roger and the
croyel
and at least some of the Insequent knew. If I ever understood how they did it, I sure as hell don’t remember. And we probably haven’t earned the knowledge. But when you can see a thing is possible, ignorance looks less irreducible. You can afford to try out theories or just plain guesswork because you know what you want to accomplish.”

As if by an act of grace, the memory he sought came to him.

Time is the keystone of life, just as wild magic is the keystone of Time.
Among the Dead, the Theomach had said that.
It is Time which is endangered
. His counsel had inspired Covenant to risk a
caesure
in order to confront Joan.
The path to its preservation lies through Time.

That was cryptic at best; hardly comprehensible. Nevertheless it sufficed.

Abruptly Covenant stopped pacing, planted his legs for balance. His head continued its slow spin, but he faced the Humbled as squarely as he could.

“And Loric’s
krill
isn’t our only instrument of power. We have white gold.” He tapped his sternum where Joan’s wedding band hung under his tattered T-shirt. “If Linden can use my ring, I ought to be able to use Joan’s.”

You are the white gold.

Recall that the
krill
is capable of much.

Without transition, he told Clyme, “Give me some of that. I’ve got work to do, and I’m still hungry.”

He had no real idea how to carry out his intentions. But he had found a place to start. And he could trust the Ranyhyn to help him.

He had suffered enough. Now he meant to surprise the hell out of
turiya
Herem.

efore long, he had satisfied his hunger. The bounty of
aliantha
seemed to supply all of his immediate lacks. Each berry enriched his veins and muscles and even the fate written on his forehead until he was almost strong, almost steady. The threat of dizziness receded. His health-sense remained vague as a wisp, but he felt an unexpected tingle of renewed sensation in his ankles and wrists.

When he was ready, he thanked Clyme. He urged the Master to save as many treasure-berries as he could. Then he asked Branl for the
krill
.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” he admitted. “But it’s always helped me to have another source of power.” The Staff of Law in Elena’s hands. The Illearth Stone in Foul’s Creche. Sunder’s
orcrest
. Covenant had relied upon external catalysts or triggers until the Despiser’s venom had eaten away his instinctive defenses, his visceral reluctance. “And this ring is Joan’s, not mine. Using it won’t be easy.”

In contrast, he had earned the privilege of wielding Loric’s eldritch dagger. He had paid for it with bloodshed.

Branl did not hesitate. Removing the wrapped blade from its place under his tunic, he delivered it to the Unbeliever.

Covenant hefted the dagger, felt its weight and its implied power. “Now what?” he asked, thinking aloud again. In spite of his millennia within the Arch of Time, the prospect of theurgy still disturbed him. Magic suited Linden. Her health-sense guided her: she could control herself. Covenant was only a leper. Nevertheless he had come too far to start shirking hazards that scared him.

How often had he told Linden to trust herself?

“Well, let’s see. I don’t understand
how
the Harrow and the Ardent did what they did. As far as I know, they just appeared and disappeared whenever they wanted. But Roger and the
croyel
are another matter.

“They faced each other with Linden between them. They raised their arms to make an arch over her head. An arch like a door.” Instinctively he began to pace again. “A portal. But I can’t do that. I can’t stand in two places at once.”

Could Clyme or Branl assist him? He rejected that idea.
Haruchai
did not wield magic. Whenever they could, they eschewed weapons of any kind. And Covenant had already required the Humbled to violate too many of their chosen prohibitions.

“Sounds like an impasse,” he muttered. “But it can’t be.” He lifted his burden with a shrug. “So maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe Roger and the
croyel
weren’t making a door. Maybe it just looked like a door. Maybe it was really something else.

“Like what?” For a moment, nothing occurred to him. Then he felt a surge of possibility. “How about an
enclosure
? A way to keep everybody together while Roger and the
croyel
combined their magicks?

“
That
I can do.”

“Ur-Lord?” asked Clyme. Another man might have sounded baffled. The Humbled’s tone expressed only polite disinterest. “Your meaning is obscure to us. Speak more plainly.”

Nourished by
aliantha
, a sensation like eagerness throbbed in Covenant’s veins. Perhaps lepers were capable of hope after all.

“Watch,” he said as if he were sure of himself. “Mount up.” He took a few steps to increase his distance from the Humbled and the Ranyhyn. “Keep my horse with you. I’ll join you when I’m ready.

“And concentrate on
turiya
. Rallyn and Hooryl can find him if they know that’s what we want.”

His companions may have hesitated. If so, he did not see it. He had already turned his attention to his task.

His arms still ached. The
krill
seemed too heavy to bear. In spite of Brinn’s gifts, and the Land’s, he remained weak. Nonetheless he used the stubs of his halfhand to pull out Joan’s wedding band on its chain.

Ah, Joan—Her ring had encircled a world of promises, but none of them were kept. If he got the chance, he intended to make better promises before the end.

Drawing the chain over his head, he forced Joan’s ring onto the truncated end of the little finger of his left hand. With the chain dangling, he unwrapped the remnants of Anele’s raiment from the
krill
, carefully keeping fabric between the ring and any part of the dagger.

When the silver purity of the gem blazed out, defying the dusk in all directions, he paused. While his eyes adjusted to the shock of radiance, he tried to take stock of his condition; his fitness for what he meant to attempt.

At one time, he had feared white gold. He had been positively dependent on the idea that he was helpless; that he was capable of nothing, and that therefore nothing could be required of him. At another time, he had again feared wild magic, but for the opposite reason. Afflicted by Lord Foul’s venom, he had raised fire from his ring too easily. He had become capable of appalling destruction and bloodshed at any provocation.

Now he felt like an amalgam of those two Covenants, an alloy: the leper who feared the responsibility of any power, and the poisoned man whose violence threatened to defy constraint. He could imagine himself accomplishing
everything and nothing
,