The Runes of the Earth: The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - Book One (76 page)

At the point of the wedge, the loremaster staggered weakly, hardly able to keep its balance. Nevertheless its scepter seemed to ache with power, and dark vitriol glistened on the surface of the iron.

Esmer gave them a jeering glance, then returned his attention to the cave at the end of the ravine.

Made visible only by its own intensity, by the discrepancy between its force and the calm of summer, a shock wave lashed through the air from the mouth of the cave. Channeled and focused by the rough stone of the walls, it struck at Esmer like a scourge; fell on him with such vehemence that Linden almost saw the flesh stripped from his bones. She expected him to fall backward in a clutter of disarticulated limbs.

At the last instant, however, he erupted like a burst of sunfire, blinding and incandescent.

Then Linden was blind as well as deaf, lost in a glare that blotted out vision. Heat licked through her clothes as though the air had become flame.

Yet somehow she broke free of Liand's grasp and began to run, sightless and desperate, in the direction of the ravine. This had to stop. The Staff was in that cave. Its defenders were not her enemies.

When she could see again, she squinted through a chaos of splotches and power-echoes, and found Esmer standing unharmed a few strides ahead of her, wrapped in disdain as if it were armor; as if the force unleashed against him were no more than a petty affront.

Covenant's ring bounced against her chest as she landed heavily in the sand of the watercourse. No! she cried silently at Esmer. Stop this! Get out of here! They aren't our
enemies
!

But she did not pause to see whether he heard her; heeded her. Thrusting him aside, she staggered frantically up the ravine.

No! she cried again, appealing now to the beings hidden in the cave. Please! We don't want to fight you. We won't fight you!

Confused by phosphenes, little suns and nebulae, she could not see her footing clearly. Sand shifted under her boots, and rocks tripped her, making her stumble. Still she ran.

In the darkness ahead of her, another shock wave gathered, powerful enough to be palpable through the residual burning of her skin. If it struck her, she would suffer the rent flesh and scattered bones which she had imagined for Esmer. Yet she did not stop.

Before she reached the mouth of the cave, however, and the shock wave ripped through her, she heard a howl in spite of her deafness, a cry of warning in Esmer's voice. So suddenly that she could not avoid colliding with him, he appeared between her and the poised assault.

He faced into the cave, obviously shouting something which once again she did not hear. With one hand, he pointed urgently at the ring swinging on its chain outside her shirt. With the other, he directed a wall of force back down the ravine, a barrier which prevented Linden's companions and the ur-viles from following her.

Beyond his forbidding, Liand and Bhapa appeared to call for her; and Pahni clung to them both as if she had lost her voice. But Stave and Mahrtiir had already flung themselves up the hillsides beside the ravine, seeking to bypass Esmer's barrier. In the streambed, the ur-viles concentrated their wedge, preparing an acid counterstroke.

Linden turned her back on them to continue struggling toward the cave.

Esmer caught her arm to restrain her—and at once released her as a small form emerged from the darkness within the cave.

Of her own volition, she halted.

The figure before her was a Waynhim.

She recognized it instantly, although ten years had passed since its kind had saved her life and Covenant's in the Northron Climbs. But she had never expected to see one of them again. She had believed that all of the Waynhim, every community or
rhysh,
had gathered long ago to oppose the depredations of the
arghuleh.
There most of them had perished, overpowered by the unexpected might of the ice-beasts.

Had enough of the creatures survived to form one last
rhysh
?

If so, they were absolutely not her enemies. Throughout their long existence, they had served the Land with all the cunning of their strange lore.

But they had always been the deadly foes of the ur-viles—

Like the rest of its kind, the Waynhim was smaller than any of the ur-viles: standing erect, its head reached no higher than the center of her chest. And its skin was an ambiguous grey, a color which would have looked pale in direct sunlight, but which appeared darker, tinged with illness or sorrow, in the shadows that filled the ravine. Yet the creature could only be a making of the Demondim. Its pointed ears perched high on its bald skull; its entire body was hairless; and instead of eyes, two wide damp nostrils gaped above its lipless mouth.

It stood just outside the cave. Its mouth moved as though it were speaking; but if Linden had been able to hear she would not have understood what the Waynhim said.

The ur-viles must have known that the Waynhim were here as soon as they had detected the scent of the Staff. Without Esmer's intervention, they and the Waynhim would have already attacked each other.

Esmer replied to the creature: a buzz of implied noise in the bones of Linden's skull. Again he indicated Covenant's ring. This time when the Waynhim spoke, she heard a low spatter of sound like the phosphenes which lingered in her vision, complicating the shadows.

The rasp of Esmer's voice returned; but she did not realize that he had addressed her until he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. Like the Waynhim's, his mouth moved incomprehensibly.

With gestures, she tried to tell him that she could not hear.

Esmer scowled in vexation, and his green eyes seethed. He said something over his shoulder to the Waynhim, then spoke as if he were issuing commands to Linden's companions. But he did not wait for a response. Instead he raised his hands to her ears and tapped them lightly with his fingertips.

The ur-viles held their formation, waiting.

For a moment, Esmer's touch tingled on Linden's eardrums. Then she was struck by a blare of sound as loud and compulsory as the calling of sirens.

Suddenly she could hear the strident apprehension of Liand's breathing, the harsh chanting of the ur-viles. Pahni's whispers seemed to roar up the ravine. In spite of their sure-footedness, Stave's and Mahrtiir's movements along the rims of the walls sounded like the grinding of boulders.

When Esmer asked, “Now do you hear?” he might as well have yelled in her face.

She flinched. “Too loud.” Her own voice bellowed at her. She clamped her hands over her ears. “It's too loud.”

Esmer looked stricken; inexplicably ashamed of himself. Then he covered his chagrin with a feigned sneer. “It will pass.”

Before she could reply, he turned to bark something at the Waynhim.

Clamorous as an avalanche, Stave and Mahrtiir landed in the sand of the ravine. Confused by the exaggeration of her hearing, Linden feared that they would hurl themselves at Esmer; or at the Waynhim. But they ignored Cail's son, and her. Instead of attacking, they bowed deeply to the grey creature.

Their actions left Linden momentarily weak with relief.

Esmer seemed vexed, but he did not regard the
Haruchai
and the Manethrall. When the Waynhim had answered him, he faced Linden again.

“Wildwielder,” he said darkly, “I have introduced you and your companions. As much as I am able, I have explained your purpose here. This is their reply.

“Your name they acknowledge. They know the ur-Lord Thomas Covenant's companion against the Sunbane. By their lore, they have learned of her role in fashioning the Staff of Law. And assuredly they understand the importance of white gold. For the sake of the great good that she accomplished at Thomas Covenant's side, in the name
of the wild magic that destroys peace, and because I have spoken on your behalf, they concede that you are indeed Linden Avery the Chosen, as you appear to be. Therefore they will make you welcome.”

Gradually the volume of Esmer's voice receded to a more bearable level. Lowering her hands, Linden found that she could hear him now without discomfort. Stave's and Mahrtiir's feet no longer sounded like thunder as they crossed the sand toward her.

“They concede as well,” Esmer continued, “that you have passed through a rupture in the Law of Time. Their lore speaks of this peril. And I am able to compel their belief. They cannot deny my knowledge of such powers.”

His tone darkened to bitterness as he said, “The
Haruchai
also they recognize, and the Ramen. They, too, will be welcomed, as well as the Stonedownor, for the same reason.”

Esmer paused while a look of savagery mounted in his gaze. “But never,” he concluded, “will they permit the presence of ur-viles in their covert. And they will not give the Staff of Law into your hands.”

Stave nodded as though he had expected this, and approved. But Mahrtiir glared a warning at the Waynhim, and his sore fingers hinted at his garrote.

Instinctively Linden dismissed the refusal of the Waynhim. It was too much: she could not afford to believe that she would fail now. Her head still reeled with the aftereffects of the Waynhim's defenses, and Esmer's. She had no choice but to act as though she could not be thwarted.

They were Waynhim, and they had the Staff: that was all that mattered. She had nowhere else to turn. If they did not trust her, she would simply have to persuade them.

Quietly, almost calmly, she asked Esmer, “Why not? They know I made it. Don't they think it belongs to me?”

His ferocity faded at once. Now he appeared to squirm.

“They fear you,” he admitted. “Your presence in this time is a profound violation of the very Law which the Staff supports. How can they believe that your purpose is benign, when you have chosen to pursue that purpose by such hazardous means?

“Also,” he added in a smaller voice, “they fear me. They perceive the peril of my nature. That I act on your behalf tells against you.”

Linden shook her head. The reasoning of the Waynhim did not surprise her. They were not her enemies.

Esmer, on the other hand—

“They have a point,” she said more sharply. “What in hell are you
doing
here, Esmer?” Then she stopped herself. “No, don't answer that yet. First tell me how you
got
here.”

Earlier, he had refused to enter the
caesure
with her.
In my presence, you will surely fail.
What had he meant, if not that his nature would not permit passage through a Fall?

“You are acquainted with
Elohim,
” he answered, still squirming. “You know that they stand apart from all Law. I have not inherited their untrammeled separateness, but I have been granted a measure of their freedom.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “Time seldom hinders me.”

“Then why didn't you just come get the Staff for me? You keep saying you want to help. Why did we have to go through all that pain?”

Esmer looked away. “The
Elohim
respect the Law of Time. It preserves the Earth. They have no wish to rouse the Worm of the World's End. To that extent, I am bound by their Würd.”

Linden swore to herself. As usual, his response was too conflicted and ambiguous to help her. Instead of pursuing the subject, she changed directions.

“You said the Waynhim were blind to my ring. Why is that?”

Esmer's mien reflected a rolling wave of emotions: anxiety, defensiveness, shame. “It is an effect of my nearness.”

She heard hints in his words, suggestions of insight, but their meaning eluded her. There were conclusions which she should have been able to draw—Too many truths had already slipped through her fingers, leaving her less and less prepared for each succeeding crisis. But she could not think beyond the exigencies of her immediate situation.

Esmer had mentioned
betrayal.
As if treachery were essential to his identity. And he had avowed that his presence would ensure her failure.

“So if you hadn't showed up here and broken down their defenses,” she said grimly, “we wouldn't be in this mess. The Waynhim would have sensed the ur-viles, sure, but they would have felt my ring at the same time.

“And the ur-viles wouldn't have attacked them.” She would not have permitted that. “As far as I can see, the Waynhim are refusing me now because you came all this way to threaten them.”

Stave nodded again.

“So explain it to me, Esmer,” she insisted. “What in hell
are
you doing here?”

“Wildwielder,” he retorted, “you understand nothing.” His words were scornful, but his tone and his manner ached with regret, apology; self-recrimination. “I feared what might transpire if the ur-viles accosted the Waynhim.

“The breaking of their wards is nothing. If you chose, you might have torn the barrier asunder. Or the ur-viles, given time, could have accomplished as much in your name. But such efforts would have been prolonged, allowing the Waynhim to withdraw. Nor would your actions have relieved their mistrust.

“My intervention has not harmed them. It was necessary only to prevent them from flight, so that you might be granted an opportunity to beseech them.