Against All Things Ending Part 23

Instantly Covenant's eyes drifted out of focus. As though he had been caught by a question that no one else could hear, he frowned. His arms dropped.

Esmer had not harmed him physically: Linden could see that. Covenant's scar glared whitely for a moment, stark as an incision. Then it faded, leaving no sign of any new injury.

Still Esmer had done enough. Swallowing gall, Linden fought her need to vomit.

Covenant's eyes rolled back, and his head lolled against Kindwind's armor, as he toppled into the maze of his fissured memories. Oh, he was not hurt: even his mind was not. Nonetheless he was gone. He had lost his grasp on the present. Instead of regarding Esmer or the Haruchai Haruchai or even Linden, he wandered among the depths of Time. or even Linden, he wandered among the depths of Time.

While the Giants gathered protectively around Linden and Covenant, Esmer announced, "Now is the toll of my crimes complete." Mourning frayed his tone. "I need only remain among you to satisfy Kastenessen's malice and the merewives merewives' loathing. She Who Must Not Be Named cares naught for any deed of mine, but other powers will exult in your ruin."

A scream rose in Linden's throat: enough Earthpower to shatter the ceiling; rain down rubble.

Before she could release it, however, Liand shouted her name; and the simple humanity of his cry stopped her. It reminded her that the danger was too great. She could not afford overt despair. Not now: not while the croyel croyel still ruled Jeremiah. still ruled Jeremiah.

Yet she required some form of release for her dismay, her baulked love. They were too extreme to be contained. Covenant was gone. He was gone again again. Reflexively she dropped his chained ring. She did not see Stave catch it before it struck the floor. Between one instant and the next, she transformed her force.

Instead of wasting her strength on screams, she aimed her fire at Covenant's hands; tuned it to the pitch of healing. With a supreme effort of percipience and will, she set everything else aside in order to finish the necessary-and necessarily partial-restoration which the loremaster had begun.

If only for a moment, the chamber and the throne and her friends and even Esmer seemed to vanish. She forgot Jeremiah and the croyel croyel. Every aspect of herself, every attainable resource, every baffled pa.s.sion, she concentrated on Covenant.

The ur-vile had made a good start: it had secured the underlying integrity of his bones; preserved shreds of muscle and sinew; kept mutilated sc.r.a.ps of skin alive; sealed his palms. But the worst effects of his burns remained. Necrosis had already corrupted the ends of his fingers and thumbs. Soon that mortification would spread inward, rotting his tissues, poisoning his blood. If it went far enough, it would send sepsis throughout his body. Given time, it would kill him.

Lost in recollections and leprosy, he could neither protest nor grieve as Linden used her Staff to excise the ends of each finger and thumb, one after another, cutting them off at the knuckles. When she was done, he would still have digits. He would still be able to use them. Because his nerves were dead, he would not feel the ache of amputation. If he did not look at himself, he might forget that she had made him more of a halfhand than he had been before.

During moments that stretched for her, although they must have been brief, she labored over Covenant as she had once worked on her son. She cauterized exposed blood vessels, cleaned away potential infections, urged circulation back into his fingers. Separated dead flesh from living. Encouraged the formation of scabs. Gently she filled his veins with flame that mimicked hurtloam.

Everything was irrevocable. He would never regain what he had lost. But she did what she could. For a short time, she became a physician again, and did not count the cost.

But then she heard Liand repeat her name; and the part of her that had not forgotten Jeremiah rea.s.serted itself.

In a burst of barking from the ur-viles and Waynhim, Rime Coldspray and Galt of the Humbled entered the chamber of the throne with Jeremiah and the croyel croyel.

Galt appeared to concentrate exclusively on controlling his prisoner. But the Ironhand scanned the rest of the company; and as she did so, her expression asked them why they had stopped. Then she noticed Covenant, and her shoulders sagged.

"The Timewarden is lost to us again."

Fiercely Cirrus Kindwind answered, "This is the mere mere-son's doing. He avers now that the tale of his treacheries is complete. I hear no falsehood in him. Nonetheless I will credit no promise of his."

Esmer flinched as if Kindwind had hit him harder than any tangible blow. His eyes were the color of drizzling rains. But he did not protest.

The clamor of the Demondim-sp.a.w.n mounted, incomprehensible as gibbering. Then it subsided to a low mutter.

Linden studied Jeremiah; searched him for signs that he had suffered during their separation. But he seemed unchanged. The krill krill kept the kept the croyel croyel's teeth away from his neck. That small reprieve, at least, he had been granted. The creature no longer drank his blood. Nonetheless its claws still dug into his flesh: its power still possessed him.

As she regarded the croyel croyel, it turned its head to gaze at the malformed throne with malignant rapture. A grin bared its fangs.

Involuntarily, as if the monster's att.i.tude compelled her, Linden asked, "That thing." Her voice shook. "That throne. Do any of you recognize it? Do you know what it represents?"

She did not expect a reply from Esmer, although she felt sure that he or the Demondim-sp.a.w.n could have answered her. But perhaps the Ardent- The Insequent shook his head with an air of misery, as if he could sense dangers worse than jaws crowding toward him. Flatly Branl said, "The Haruchai Haruchai have seen or heard nothing to account for it, or for any secret hidden within the Lost Deep." have seen or heard nothing to account for it, or for any secret hidden within the Lost Deep."

Abruptly Jeremiah raised his head. Grinning like the croyel croyel, he said, "It's a copy of a-Jeroth's throne in Ridjeck Thome. An exact copy. It might as well be the place where Lord Foul sat while he still thought he could get what he wants with armies and war. The Viles made it after they stopped wors.h.i.+pping themselves and started trying to do something useful with all that power.

"It's homage."

The croyel croyel's grin was as feral as its desire for Jeremiah's blood.

Instinctively Linden s.h.i.+ed away from the sight. It hurt her more than Covenant's fragmented absence.

Homage? she thought bitterly. No. Jeremiah's possessor was lying again-or distorting the truth. The Demondim had been used by Lord Foul. The ur-viles had served him for centuries or millennia. But she had met Viles: she did not believe that they had ever bowed down to the Despiser.

Above Glimmermere, Esmer had a.s.serted as much.

"Linden Giantfriend," insisted the Ironhand. "I fear that the Ardent's alarm augurs ill for us. We must attempt to cross the Hazard ere She Who Must Not Be Named rises.

"And"-she turned to Galt-"we must not be slowed by the boy. Master, I acknowledge your devoir. I honor it. But it impedes us. If you will permit me, I will hold the krill krill in your stead, bearing Linden Giantfriend's son as I do so. Doubtless there is evil in any contact with the in your stead, bearing Linden Giantfriend's son as I do so. Doubtless there is evil in any contact with the croyel croyel, but I am armored against it." She tapped her cataphract. "And we will no longer lag behind our companions."

Like Covenant, if in a different fas.h.i.+on, Linden was losing her grip on the present. She had struggled for too long; had depleted herself over and over again-Remembering the Viles, who had once been worthy of admiration, she also remembered her parents, from whom she learned her deepest nightmares. She did not know how to endure the croyel croyel's rapt avarice.

Briefly Galt appeared to hesitate. Presumably he, Branl, and Clyme were debating the implications of Coldspray's suggestion. Then the Humbled reached a decision.

Nodding to the Ironhand, Galt s.h.i.+fted to make room for her.

Quickly she stepped behind Galt. Reaching past him, she placed her hand over his where he gripped the krill krill. Her hand dwarfed his: when she took the dagger's guards between her thumb and forefinger, he was able to release his grasp without removing the protective cloth. Then he dropped his other hand to Jeremiah's arm so that the boy-or the croyel croyel-could not twist away before Coldspray secured her clasp.

A moment later, Coldspray stooped to wrap her free arm around Jeremiah. Hugging the croyel croyel against her armor, between her and the boy, and holding the edge of the against her armor, between her and the boy, and holding the edge of the krill krill steady at the creature's throat, she lifted her prisoners from the floor. steady at the creature's throat, she lifted her prisoners from the floor.

The croyel croyel continued grinning as though it had seen a promise of rescue in the jagged throne. continued grinning as though it had seen a promise of rescue in the jagged throne.

After a glance at Linden, the Ironhand addressed her comrades. "Now, Swordmainnir, we must run indeed. If we do not cross from the Lost Deep before the chasm's bane a.s.sails us, we will not behold sunlight or open skies or hope again. We will not live to witness the outcome of the Earth."

"Aye," growled Grueburn past Linden's head. "No being who survives to hear our tale will say that we did not run."

Without a word, Stave raised Covenant's ring, urging Linden to reclaim it. But she shook her head. It belonged to Covenant: in Esmer's presence, it was useless to her. And it would be safer with Stave.

He would give it to her if or when she could use it.

The Waynhim sprinted ahead with the Ardent sailing close behind them. At once, the Giants followed, but in a new formation. Frostheart Grueburn went first, with Stave at her side and Rime Coldspray at her back. Then came Cirrus Kindwind and Covenant, with the Humbled arrayed around them, and Esmer gliding nearby. Next ran Stormpast Galesend and Onyx Stonemage carrying Anele and Liand. Behind them, at Mahrtiir's request, were Pahni and Bhapa, Cabledarm and Halewhole Bluntfist. The Manethrall and Latebirth brought up the rear. Clearly he considered the Ramen the most expendable members of the company-and himself the least valuable of the Ramen.

Among them all sped the ur-viles as if they were herding the Giants and the Humbled. But the black creatures kept a little distance between themselves and Linden's s.h.i.+ning Staff.

By degrees, Linden absorbed new urgency from the rus.h.i.+ng Giants. Her heart pounded to the subterranean rhythms of She Who Must Not Be Named. Sweat gathered on her palms. Behind her, the krill krill's radiance cast dim shadows through the glow of the immaculate stone and her own illumination. Ahead, the Ardent's fright felt more and more like a wail. But it was not loud enough to m.u.f.fle the growing ferocity of the bane's emanations. Linden could not seal her nerves against that ma.s.sive pulse.

The Swordmainnir ran as though they intended to fling themselves down the throat of a volcano. Linden should have been preparing herself for She Who Must Not Be Named, sharpening her percipience to the exact hue and timbre of the bane. How else could she fight? But she already knew that she was too small to combat such forces. And Esmer had a.s.sured her that Against Her ire, only white gold may hope for efficacy Against Her ire, only white gold may hope for efficacy.

Instead of bracing herself for battle, she tried to think of some way to sway Cail's son.

If Esmer departed, the Ardent would be able to convey the company to safety. Or Covenant might rediscover his connection to the present. With wild magic, he might be able to accomplish what Linden could not.

Sensations of immanent malice confirmed that Coldspray was right.-we will not behold sunlight or open skies or hope again. The entire company would die if Linden could not think of an argument persuasive or insidious or hurtful enough to change Esmer's mind.

Harried by barking and desperation, the Giants ran, flas.h.i.+ng through tunnels like hallucinations. They reached the cavern of the outlined castle and pa.s.sed through it as though the elegant faery edifice were trivial. As they raced toward the portal of the Lost Deep, they did not slow their strides.

The Ardent's febrile haste blocked Linden's view ahead. Nevertheless she knew that the portal was near. She felt the shape of the stone, the vast s.p.a.ces and stalact.i.tes; the inexorable ascent of the bane. Dark hungers became a roar that swelled as though some innominate hand swung wide a huge door.

Moments now: only moments. The hourgla.s.s of the company's fate was almost empty.

Then an impression of openness flared across Linden's senses. Riding his raiment, the Ardent followed the Waynhim onto the broad shelf that footed the slender span of the Hazard.

The Waynhim dashed up the bridge. Floating higher to distance himself from the depths, the Insequent pursued them. But Linden panted to Grueburn, "Stop. Stop."

As Grueburn cleared the entrance to the Lost Deep, she wrenched herself to a halt near the rim of the abyss to await Linden's instructions and the rest of her comrades.

Far below her, Linden saw the bane rising like an eruption of fire.

At first, its force was so great that she could not discern it clearly. It resembled a shapeless maw of flame so wide that it filled the chasm from wall to wall. But as she forced herself to concentrate, she realized that She Who Must Not Be Named was neither a maw nor shapeless. The monstrous being was not even flame: She resembled fire only because Her power was so extreme. And She had faces- Oh, G.o.d, She had faces faces. Dozens of them: hundreds. Features articulated the rising puissance in lurid succession, all of them different; all so huge that only three or four of them were formed at a time; all stretched and frantic as if they were howling in torment. And all women. They modulated constantly, harshly, changing from one tortured visage to another without surcease. But they were all distinct, recognizable. If Linden had known them, she would have been able to say their names.

Instinctively she understood that if the bane caught her and her companions, the men would be slaughtered; torn to sc.r.a.ps. But the women would be devoured, every one of them. She and the Swordmainnir and Pahni would become part of that-that- She Who Must Not Be Named was the source of Kevin's Dirt. Manipulated and shaped by Kastenessen and Esmer, Her energies cast the pall that hampered percipience. She emitted the sorcery which disguised Law and obstructed Earthpower: to Her, the natural forces of life were mere detritus. Yet She was not drained or diminished. She had the power to uproot mountains. Apparently She lacked only the intention.

So close to that evil, Linden's efforts barely kept her Staff alight. After the battle of First Woodhelven, she had dreamed of being carrion. The bane made her feel that she was already dead; dead and rotting.

One after another, Giants emerged from the portal, flanked by snarling cl.u.s.ters of ur-viles. The ur-viles beckoned raucously for the company to cross the Hazard; but Coldspray and Kindwind paused beside Grueburn and Linden. The Humbled kept watch over Covenant. As Stonemage followed Galesend onto the ledge, she asked why her comrades had stopped; but no one answered. Like Linden, the other Giants were transfixed by the bane's virulence.

Glancing downward, Stave remarked impa.s.sively, "Mayhap it was for this that the Unbeliever spoke of Dia.s.somer Mininderain. Mayhap he wished that we might comprehend our peril."

The Ardent must have heard Stave in spite of the distance. From high above the crest of the span, the garish man called, "She is the Auriference as well! One of the Insequent suffers among those who will destroy us! It was to avoid her doom that so many of my people have eschewed the Land."

Sternly Esmer added, "Kastenessen's mortal lover also partic.i.p.ates in She Who Must Not Be Named. She was Emereau Vrai, daughter of kings, and she dared to draw upon this ancient need for the creation of the merewives merewives. Therefore she was consumed."

Linden could believe that the bane was Dia.s.somer Mininderain as Covenant had described her, The mate of might The mate of might-If so, its powers-Hers-were beyond measure. She had gone mad and slumbered, instead of tearing Her way out of the depths to ravage the Earth, because She did not crave simple destruction. She hungered instead for mortal lives that could love and be loved.

And She was too close. Surely She was too close? Linden and her company would never be able to cross the Hazard in time.

She needed to persuade or banish Esmer. Now or never.

Many of the ur-viles had run up onto the span. Those that remained gathered in a wedge to ward themselves from the Staff. They all gestured furiously, cawing or snarling for the company to ascend the bridge.

"Linden!" Liand shouted, pleading with her. "We must run!"

Grimly Linden turned to Esmer. Inspired by the distraught legacy of her parents, she asked the most cutting question that she could imagine.

"Does it bother you that Cail would be ashamed of his son?"

Esmer faced her like cras.h.i.+ng surf. His eyes seemed to weep storms. "And does it trouble you, Wildwielder," he countered, "that you have at hand the means to end my interference, and yet do not avail yourself of it?"

Linden gaped at him, dumbfounded.

Groaning, he explained, "The krill krill of the High Lord, Wildwielder. It is puissant to sever my life." of the High Lord, Wildwielder. It is puissant to sever my life."

In spite of their peril, the Swordmainnir stared. Linden felt Liand's distress. The shock of the Ramen slapped at her nerves.

"If you do not crave the deed for yourself," Esmer continued, "command some Haruchai Haruchai to perform it. With my death, the effects of my presence will end. The Insequent will recover his efficacy. The Timewarden's notice will emerge from its confusion. The gift of tongues will return to the Giants. White gold will become capable in your hands. to perform it. With my death, the effects of my presence will end. The Insequent will recover his efficacy. The Timewarden's notice will emerge from its confusion. The gift of tongues will return to the Giants. White gold will become capable in your hands.

"Slay me, Wildwielder. Grant an end to my suffering. If you find worth in your life, mine must cease."

"You're-" Amid the distress of her companions, Linden floundered. "That's-" But then she rallied. "Oh, sure. Kill you. With the krill krill. Perfect. Except that then the croyel croyel gets away." Freed, the creature might be strong enough to shove her and even the Giants over the precipice. "I'll lose my son." gets away." Freed, the creature might be strong enough to shove her and even the Giants over the precipice. "I'll lose my son."

Esmer shrugged. "As you say." His gaze did not relent. "No deed is without cost or peril. But you must act now now. Have I not said that I yearn for an end? And the opportunity fades with every pa.s.sing moment. My death will not turn She Who Must Not Be Named from Her prey."

For no apparent reason, he added, "The ur-viles and Waynhim still desire to serve you. They are not without cunning."

"Linden Giantfriend!" snapped the Ironhand. "I do not seek to sway you. But you must choose quickly! The bane draws near!"

For a moment-no more than a heartbeat-the implications of Esmer's appeal paralyzed Linden. She could recover Covenant. She could recover wild magic. The Ardent's given powers would return. Then her heart beat again, echoing the life-pulse of dozens or hundreds of tortured women; and she saw that her choice was no choice at all. All of her options were intolerable.

Murder Esmer in cold blood. Lose Jeremiah again. Or face unanswerable carnage.

The Demondim-sp.a.w.n still urged her toward the Hazard.

"Go!" she cried at Rime Coldspray. "Covenant first! Then Jeremiah! Get as many of us across as you can! I'll go last. I'm no match for that thing, but maybe I can distract it."

Instantly the Ironhand wheeled away; rushed Kindwind and Covenant onto the span. As Kindwind and the Humbled sprinted ahead, Coldspray ordered Stonemage and Galesend to follow one at a time, with Cabledarm, Bluntfist, and then Latebirth behind them.

Barking tumult, the rest of the ur-viles ran as well. In moments, only Stave and Esmer remained with Grueburn and Coldspray; Linden, Jeremiah, and the croyel croyel.

"Coldspray-!" Linden protested.

"No, Giantfriend." The light of battle shone in the Ironhand's eyes. Her grin was ferocious. "You have chosen. I also choose. While the mere mere-son abides with you, I will do what your need requires of me.

"Mayhap," she added quickly, "your son is safer at your side than elsewhere."

Linden thought that she understood. If Coldspray struck Esmer while she, Jeremiah, and the croyel croyel were exposed on the span, the creature would have no chance to harm anyone else. And with the Staff, Linden might be able to contain the were exposed on the span, the creature would have no chance to harm anyone else. And with the Staff, Linden might be able to contain the croyel croyel's magicks long enough for Coldspray to regain control.

A slim chance.

Better than none.

"Go," Linden panted, choking on nausea. "Now. I'll do what I can."

With a nod, Coldspray ran for the Hazard.

Grueburn and Stave followed immediately. Esmer stayed near Linden.

She had forgotten how narrow the span looked; how fragile-She had forgotten the ma.s.s of the stalact.i.tes, tremendous and threatening. As Grueburn carried her onto the bridge, the gulf seemed to leap open as if it sprang from her darkest nightmares. And the bane: G.o.d, the bane bane! Excoriated faces gaped upward in insane succession, straining to devour fresh life.

She Who Must Not Be Named did not rise swiftly, but Her approach was as ineluctable as the forces which had riven Melenkurion Melenkurion Skyweir. Skyweir.

With the Staff's insignificant light in her hands, Linden ascended into an altogether different dimension of feeling and perception: a dimension of undiluted irrefragable terror.