“Why do they not attack now? If Kastenessen directs them, does he not grasp that delay is perilous to him? Surely he must harry us while we remain far from the krill.”
In the background of his voice, Linden heard that his concern was more for Pahni than for himself. Like Linden’s, his passage through Salva Gildenbourne had been comparatively easy, while Pahni’s efforts had tested her Ramen toughness.
“I don’t know, Liand.” Linden lay holding the Staff, although it did not reassure her. “He’s waiting for something, but I have no idea what.” Roger and Cavewights? Moksha Raver and kresh? Sandgorgons? “Maybe he just needs time to gather more skurj.” Or maybe Lord Foul had other plans for Kastenessen. She had been given hints which revealed nothing. “I can’t worry about it right now. I’ll just paralyse myself.”
Face it, Covenant had once told her. Go forward. Give yourself a chance to find out who you are. But he had also said to Liand through Anele, I wish I could spare you. Yet Liand was more afraid for Pahni, Linden, and the others than for himself.
His courage was less conflicted than Linden’s.
For a while, he considered her and the campfire and the sharp night. Then he said through his teeth, “Indeed.” A moment later, he surprised her by adding, “When our need is upon us, I pray that you will entrust the Staff of Law to me, as you did when we fled through time to counter the Demondim.”
Before she could respond, he left her and went to lie down on his own blankets beside Pahni.
She could not read his thoughts, but she recognised the character of his emotions. He had reached a decision, one which resembled his determination to offer health-sense to the Woodhelvennin.
He had conceived of another extravagant use for his orcrest.
That prospect troubled her until weariness overcame her, and she drifted into an anxious sleep, fretful and unresolved.
Dawn came too early: Linden was not ready for it. But she forced herself to arise when Stave spoke her name. Jeremiah needed her. All of her companions needed her. Befogged by too little rest and too many dreams, she stumbled toward the campfire to warm the chill from her bones.
The Giants must have kept the flames burning all night.
She had made no attempt to wield wild magic since she had created the caesure which had carried her to Revelstone after she had recovered her Staff. Now she was not sure that she knew how to find the pathway to power hidden within her.
The Swordmainnir were all awake and moving, as were the rest of Linden’s friends. Under Mahrtiir’s blind supervision, Bhapa, Pahni, and Liand prepared all of their remaining viands so that the Giants could each have one or two mouthfuls to supplement their breakfast of aliantha. While Linden rubbed her hands over the fire in the dim, grey morning, Stave informed her that the Humbled had discerned no danger during the night. Kastenessen was still waiting-She nodded inattentively: her thoughts were elsewhere. She could feel her health-sense leeching from her, sucked away by Kevin’s Dirt.
As always, she felt an almost metaphysical pang of bereavement. Without percipience, she could not gauge the condition of her companions. And she could not see into herself. She had never tried to wield wild magic under the bale of Kevin’s Dirt. She might be entirely unable to access Covenant’s ring. She would certainly not be able to control its force.
But if she restored herself with Earthpower, she would attract the skurj.
When she had eaten a few treasure-berries, and their tonic vitality had begun to lift the brume of fatigue and dreams from her mind, Linden looked around for Rime Coldspray.
The Ironhand was with Longwrath. While Onyx Stonemage and another Giant held him, shackled but ungagged, Coldspray interrupted his harsh demands by pushing aliantha into his mouth. He chewed the berries reflexively, swallowing the seeds as well as the fruit. They seemed to feed his rage.
Beckoning for Stave to join her, Linden approached Coldspray through grass heavy with dew. As soon as the Ironhand greeted her, she said. “Coldspray, we need to talk.”
Without hesitation, Coldspray asked another Giant to take over her task. Then she faced Linden and Stave, towering over them like a buttress against uncertainties and fears.
“I didn’t ask you last night,” Linden began. “Have any of your senses changed since you came to the Upper Land? Do they seem diminished?’
Coldspray shook her head. “They do not. I behold your concern, Linden Giantfriend. I see that it swells within you, though I cannot hear its name. And we retain our acuteness to the evil of the skurj.”
“Good. You’re like the Haruchai. Kevin’s Dirt doesn’t affect you. But the rest of us-” Linden dropped her gaze, irrationally ashamed of her weakness. “We’re being numbed. All of our senses are fading. And it’s getting worse. Soon we’ll be”- she fumbled for an adequate description- “stuck on the surface of everything. We won’t be able to see anything that isn’t right in front of us.”
“We will preserve you,” Coldspray replied gruffly. “Stave and the Humbled will do the same.”
Linden shook her head. “I know you will. That’s not the point. The point is that I can’t use power,” any power. “without my health-sense. Liand can’t use his orcrest. The Ramen will lose some of their effectiveness as scouts.”
Coldspray started to object, then stopped herself and waited for Linden to go on.
With an effort, Linden raised her head again. We can solve the problem. Temporarily, anyway. But we can’t do it without Earthpower-and that draws the skurj.” Bracing herself on granite, she concluded. “Before we put you in any more danger, you should have a chance to think about it. If you have a better idea-”
Her voice sank away like water in sand. She could not imagine any response to the threat of Kastenessen and his creatures except wild magic.
Stave consulted the rising dawn. “The Humbled distrust any exertion of Earthpower. However, they can offer no alternative. They are certain that stealth alone will not ward us from our foes. And they remain in doubt concerning your purpose. They have not yet opposed you. They will continue to refrain.”
“And you, Stave of the Haruchai?” asked Coldspray with a glint of morning or humour in her eyes. “What is your counsel?”
The former Master gave a slight shrug. “I have said that I no longer oppose the Chosen’s deeds and desires. Also there is this to consider. Some use of orcrest or the Staff of Law may provoke a premature reply. Should Kastenessen strike before his forces have been fully prepared, he will grant us an advantage which we could not obtain otherwise.”
The Ironhand chuckled. “My friend,” she said, slapping Stave lightly on the shoulder. “your cunning grows ever more evident. If it should chance that you weary of being Haruchai, know that you will be made welcome among the Swordmainnir. Lacking the good fortune-and also the stature-of our blood and bone, you will become a Giant by acclamation rather than by birth.
“Linden Avery,” she continued more seriously, “my thoughts follow Stave’s. We cannot hope to conceal our presence from the discernment of an Elohim. Therefore we lose naught, and may gain much, if Kastenessen answers the cleansing of your senses.”
Linden ducked her head again. When she raised her eyes, she tried to smile. “Thank you,” she said unsteadily. “I must have spent too much time alone. I keep forgetting what it’s like to have friends. Stave and Liand and the Ramen are doing their best to teach me, but I’m out of the habit.”
Coldspray and the Giants around Longwrath replied by laughing as though they were delighted. “Linden Giantfriend,” the Ironhand explained, “that tale is too sad for tears. “Out of the habit”. She laughed again. “And its dolour is made more cruel by brevity. We are Giants. If we do not laugh, we will be compelled to insist upon the full tale of your years and loneliness. The very blood in our veins will require it.”
“Slay her,” remarked Longwrath. “Slay. Her.” For the moment, at least, he sounded strangely casual. He may have been affected by aliantha. Or perhaps the mirth of
his people eased his turmoil.
“Oh, well,” Linden sighed, feigning sorrow or disappointment while her heart lifted. “I haven’t forgotten everything. I do remember Giants.” Then she called over her shoulder. “Liand! Are you ready?”
At once, the Stonedownor bounded to his feet. “I am.” His piece of Sunstone was already in his hand, and his face was bright with eagerness.
Quiescent, his orcrest seemed both translucent and empty, as if it formed a gap in the substance of his palm.
An oblique memory caught Linden. Millennia ago among the Dead in Andelain, High Lord Mhoram had urged Covenant to remember the paradox of white gold. Covenant had described that occasion to Linden days later, after he had rescued her from the Clave. There is hope in contradiction.
In Garroting Deep, the Mahdoubt had said the same thing. Upon occasion, ruin and redemption defy distinction.
Then Liand tightened his grip; and the Sunstone began to shine. Its light was whiter, purer, than the argent cast of wild magic. And it did not burn or flame: it simply emitted an immaculate radiance. Soon it filled the glade.
While the Giants watched in wonder, Liand bathed Pahni in whiteness until she, too, shone as if she had been transfigured.
Linden knew that the young Cord was afraid for Liand: Pahni dreaded the implications of his power or his fate. Nevertheless she made no attempt to conceal her gladness as her health-sense was renewed.
Linden ached to share in that restoration. Her nerves hungered for it.
Fortunately experience had made Liand adept. Although his people had been denied their true birthright for millennia, his entire being responded to the Sunstone. He needed only a few moments to cleanse Mahrtiir’s perceptions, and Bhapa’s. Then he turned his light on Linden as if it were chrism.
Earthpower could not heal her emotional hurts. It could not relieve her anguished yearning for Jeremiah-or for Thomas Covenant. Still it made her feel whole again; capable in spite of her many limitations. When Liand was done, she was once again the Linden Avery who had beaten back Roger and the croyel; the Linden who could tear open time-
Trust yourself. Do something they don’t expect.
I can’t help you unless you find me.
The Giants observed in mute joy, as if they were witnessing an exaltation. Then as one they began to cheer.
There is hope in contradiction.
At the same time, Longwrath’s rage returned. “Slay her!” he demanded. “Slay her!”
Liand ignored the other Swordmainnir. Linden saw the brilliance of orcrest echo like daring in his eyes as he strode toward Longwrath. Days ago, she had witnessed the Sunstone’s effect on Anele. Clearly Liand intended to try a similar experiment with the damaged Giant.
Through his madness, Longwrath appeared to understand Liand’s purpose. As the Stonedownor approached, Longwrath hunched suddenly forward, jerked his guardians off balance. Then, roaring, he pitched himself backward with such vehemence that he broke free.
He landed on his back; flipped over to pull his feet under him. As he sprang upright, the shackles dropped from his wrists and ankles. An inarticulate howl corded his throat as he snatched his sword from its sheath.
Quickly Liand retreated. Quenching the Sunstone, he hid it behind his back. Chagrin burned in his face.
Linden feared that Longwrath would harm one of the Swordmainnir; but they recaptured their comrade with practiced ease. Coldspray stepped in front of him and engaged his flamberge with her glaive, compelled his attention, while four women circled swiftly behind him. As soon as Coldspray created an opening, another Giant kicked him in the small of his back. The shock of the blow dropped him to his knees; and immediately the women swarmed over him. In a moment, they had twisted the sword from his grasp and pinned his arms.
Muttering Giantish curses, the Ironhand retrieved Longwrath’s shackles and secured his wrists and ankles. Deceptively gentle, she replaced the gag in his mouth; returned his sword to its sheath. Then she left him to the care of Galesend and another Swordmain.
Linden sighed with relief-and regret. “Well, that didn’t work.”
“Forsooth,” growled Coldspray trenchantly. To Liand, she said. “I do not doubt that your attempt was kindly meant, but you must not hazard it again.” He nodded, openly dismayed, as she continued, “I fear that Longwrath poses a greater threat than any skurj. He will free himself and strike when we are least able to oppose him. Do not provoke him further.”
The thought made Linden’s stomach clench. “Then what should we do? He’s going to get people killed, and there are too few of us as it is.”
The Ironhand scowled around the glade, considering her choices. “We will separate once more,” she announced. “Surely Kastenessen does not desire the death of one who desires yours. While Longwrath lags behind us, he will be spared. I will ask three of my comrades to accompany him.” Clearly she meant, To guard him. “If Stave and the Manethrall of the Ramen have no better counsel, the remainder of our company will hasten toward Andelain with such speed as Salva Gildenbourne permits.”
Stave deferred to Mahrtiir. The Manethrall cleared his throat. “My Cords will again scout our path. Their task will be to seek clear passage for long strides. It falls to the Humbled to ward us against peril.” Then he turned his bandaged face toward Bhapa and Pahni, locating them by scent and sound and aura. “But you must also seek rocky ground. Surely vestiges of the former plains remain, bouldered and barren, where the ancient litter of scarps and tors hinders the trees. If it can be done, we must stand among an abundance of loose stones when Kastenessen strikes.”
He did not explain himself; but Linden assumed that he thought her companions would be better able to defend themselves if they were not obstructed by jungle and brush.
Bhapa swallowed heavily. “We hear you, Manethrall. If your command can be met, we will meet it.”
Pahni gave Liand a quick hug, then clenched her teeth and left him to stand beside Bhapa.
With fierceness in his voice, Mahrtiir replied, “I do not doubt you. Trust to the Humbled, and fare well.”
However, Bhapa and Pahni did not set out immediately. Instead they waited to hear what the Ironhand and Stave would say.
“Stave of the Haruchai?” asked Coldspray.
Stave shrugged. “The Manethrall is wise and farseeing in the ways of strife. The Humbled approve his counsel. And I do not fear for them. It is their word that they are much healed. While they live, they will ward us.
“Rime Coldspray, I inquire only if you will bear the Chosen and her slower companions, as you have done before.”
“We will.” The Ironhand snorted a laugh. “Indeed, we insist upon it.” Several of her comrades nodded. “As stealth will not serve us, we must have speed.” Then she looked to Linden.
“Linden Giantfriend, what is your word?”
Linden took a deep breath; tightened her grip on the Staff. With as much confidence as she could summon, she said. “All right. Let’s do it. Just take care of Anele. And keep Liand near me.”
Chuckling, Frostheart Grueburn stepped forward and lifted Linden into her arms. “You misgauge us, Linden Avery,” she said with a grin. “Though we are large and for the most part foolish, we know a stick when it jabs our eyes. Any man as blighted as your old companion compels our esteem. Already we prize him.”
Stormpast Galesend chortled at Grueburn’s jest as she picked up Anele; cradled him gently against her stone-clad chest. While the Ironhand donned her armour, Grueburn continued more seriously. “As for the Stonedownor, we have heard you. He must bear the Staff of Law when the time has come for wild magic. Salva Gildenbourne permitting, Onyx Stonemage will run at my shoulder. At worst, she will be a stride before or behind me.”
Stonemage bent down so that Liand could sit on her forearm. Then she carried him to Grueburn’s side. Both Giants appeared to be stifling laughter.
A Swordmain who introduced herself as Cirrus Kindwind bowed to Mahrtiir gravely before she presumed to take h
im in her arms. Her manner revealed an instinctive sensitivity to his emotional straits. Being carried as if he were a child galled his combative spirit. Hidden deep within him was a dumb snarl of anguish and frustration. Kindwind had not known him before he lost his eyes. Nevertheless she appeared to recognise-and respect-his denied distress. She supported him on her forearm as if he were a visiting dignitary, and her posture conveyed the impression that she bore him with pride.
As Coldspray finished securing her cataphract, three Giants pulled Longwrath to his feet. The rest gathered around the Ironhand. At a nod from Mahrtiir, Bhapa and Pahni ran south across the glade. Abandoning the blankets and bundles that Linden’s friends had brought from Revelstone, seven Giants and Stave followed the Cords toward the knotted shade of the jungle.
Behind them, Longwrath protested through his gag. But he made no effort to break free. His shackles remained in place. For the moment, at least, he seemed willing to shuffle along in the wake of the woman he wanted to kill.
Then Rime Coldspray and Stave led Grueburn, Kindwind, and the others at a brisk trot into Salva Gildenbourne. The thick gloom of the trees closed over Linden’s company, immersed her in darkness. The early light could not penetrate the canopy. While her eyes adjusted to the shifting weight of shadows, she felt herself hurtling toward a future which might become an abyss.
Branches slapped at Grueburn. A few flicked Linden’s head and shoulders. The path of the Cords left no room for Grueburn and Onyx Stonemage to run side by side. Stonemage was compelled to follow Grueburn. Nonetheless it was obvious that Pahni and Bhapa had found a route along which the Swordmainnir could travel easily. While Bhapa scouted farther ahead, Pahni stayed near enough to guide the Giants. To Linden, they seemed to flit among the massive old trees and the younger saplings.
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