Against All Things Ending (11 page)

Wrath is the Master—fire and rage.
Retribution fills his hands.
Attacking comes he, sword and gage,
’Gainst treachery in all the lands.

Mininderain he treats with rue;
No heaven-home for broken trust,
But children given to pursue
All treachery to death and dust.
Thus Earth became a gallow-fells
For a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.

“The Despiser has to cause as much pain as he can while he tries to get free. It helps him fight off his own despair. Diassomer Mininderain feeds off anything that’s still capable of love. She eats—But that’s not all she does. She still
hates
. She had as much to do with making the
merewives
as Kastenessen’s mortal lover did. And she’s involved in Kevin’s Dirt somehow.”

Linden had lost her way. Covenant evoked a host of recollections and bafflements and lost affection. He seemed to have reached the point of what he was trying to say, but she could not guess what it might be. When he fell silent, gazing about him as though he had made everything clear, she asked the first question that she could find in her desiccated heart.

“So why didn’t I see that old man? The one who told me that ‘There is also love in the world.’ Why didn’t he warn me?”

You are indeed forsaken, by the Dead as by the Earth’s Creator
.
How could it be otherwise, when all of your deeds conduce to ruin?

If he had accosted her—if she had caught so much as a glimpse of him—she would have known what his presence meant. She might have been able to save Jeremiah.

Covenant’s face tightened, drawing his features into lines like strictures. Suddenly, for no reason that she could imagine, he was
present
in front of her, alert in every sense. Sliding along a flaw or fissure, he had returned to Andelain and night and the brilliance of the
krill
. The harsh compassion in his voice was so familiar that it made her ache.

“Maybe he’s given up. Maybe he knows there’s nothing he can do.”

Forget him in this ecstasy
.

At once, several of the Giants protested, prompted by their instinctive passion for life. “What, abandoned his Creation? The Earth entire?” But their incredulity bypassed Linden, leaving her hollow. Of
course
the Creator had turned his back. He had looked into her and seen what she was. Now he was done with her.

She was done with him as well. He had failed her. Ignoring the Giants, and the chagrin among the Ramen, she tried by force of will to keep Covenant from slipping away again.

“What about Jeremiah? You know everything that’s happened since Lord Foul killed you. Maybe you know everything that’s ever happened. Lord Foul touched him before I came here with you ten years ago. According to Roger, the Despiser owns him.”
He’s
belonged
to Foul for years
. And the Mahdoubt had said,
a-Jeroth’s mark was placed upon the boy when he was yet a small child
—“Is that true?”

Had Jeremiah invited the
croyel
to possess him? Was there no hope for him at all?

For a moment, Covenant ducked his head as if Linden had shamed him. But he did not fall. When he looked at her again, his mouth was twisted with anger, and his eyes caught a combative gleam from the
krill
.

“I did what I could,” he said as if the words were stones, heavy and undeniable, “without risking the Arch. Maybe it was enough. If it wasn’t, we’ll
make
it enough. That boy doesn’t deserve what’s happened to him. Hellfire, Linden, he was practically a
toddler
. I refuse to believe he made choices then that can’t be undone.”

Briefly Covenant glanced away as if he were gazing into unfathomable distances. “There are things the Despiser doesn’t understand. He can’t. No matter how clever he is. Like the Creator—like all of us—he has his blind side. Some things he just doesn’t see.”

Then his attention returned to Linden so fiercely that she seemed to feel his hands holding the sides of her face, compelling her, although he had not stepped toward her or raised his arms.

“Listen to me, Linden. None of the love you lavished on your son was wasted. That isn’t even possible. Until we know more about what’s happened to him, just trust yourself.”

Abruptly Stave spoke. In a peremptory tone, as though he had missed an opportunity and meant to recapture it, he asked, “Ur-Lord, is it conceivable that the Creator has forsaken the Chosen and the Earth because he is no longer needed?”

A wince of surprise or regret twisted one side of Covenant’s mouth. “Ah, hell,” he sighed. “Why not? Anything is conceivable. At least until the Worm gets enough to eat.”

“On that matter, Giantfriend,” put in Rime Coldspray before Stave could continue, “have we been given sooth? Is the time remaining to us measured in days rather than in hours?”

Covenant nodded with a hint of his earlier abstraction. “Berek’s right. Creating realities takes time. So does destroying them. I’m not part of the Arch anymore. I can’t protect it. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to crumble while we stand here talking about it.”

Stave did not waver. “Ur-Lord,” he insisted, “is it conceivable that the Creator’s abandonment benefits his creation?”

Covenant scowled at the outcast Master. “Think that if you want. Hell, believe it if you can. It’s as good as any other explanation. I can’t imagine what the benefit might be. But maybe that’s just one of
my
blind spots.” Harshly he concluded, “Anything is better than giving up.”

With his lone eye and his impassive mien, Stave regarded Covenant as though the Unbeliever had made his point for him.

It is ever thus
. Obliquely Linden remembered Mahrtiir’s advice before she and her friends had left the wreckage of First Woodhelven.
Attempts must be made, even when there can be no hope
.
The alternative is despair
.
And betimes some wonder is wrought to redeem us
.

Apparently Stave shared the Manethrall’s conviction.

There are always surprises
.
And sometimes they help
.

Linden still had one last attempt to make. And Stave would support her. The Ramen would do the same. As would Liand.

She was less sure of the Giants; but she suspected that their love of children would sway them. As for the Humbled—They would argue against her, of course. But Covenant had already commanded them to
choose her
.

If she could, she meant to spare all of them the risk of her final gamble.

“In that case,” she said, pleading for Covenant’s permission; for a confirmation of his approval, “I should go finish talking to the Harrow.”

She had more questions for Covenant; many more. But she lacked the courage to ask them. If she had simply allowed herself to think them in words—Do you really believe that I’m still capable of something good? or, Do you still love me?—she might have fallen to her knees. Any answer, any answer at all, would have been more than she could bear.

Before Covenant could respond, however—before she could turn away with or without his reassurance—Galt intervened.

“Unbeliever, you must not permit this.” His voice was a blade sharpened by uncharacteristic passion. “To rouse the Worm was Desecration. To go now in search of her son, trusting to the word of this Insequent, is rank madness.”

Covenant’s emanations were vivid to Linden’s percipience: he stood on the verge of another drop. An abyss yawned at the feet of his mind. She held her breath, expecting him to fall. But something in Galt’s tone, or in Covenant’s own determination, kept him from stumbling over the edge.

“It makes more sense than you think.” His asperity dulled the edge of Galt’s demand. “We aren’t strong enough. I’m not all here. Kevin’s Dirt limits what she can do with her Staff. And she doesn’t really know how to use that ring. I wanted her to have it, but still—She isn’t its rightful wielder.

“As matters stand, we don’t have enough power.” His halfhand displayed its emptiness. “Or the right kind of power. We can’t stop the Worm. While we’re trying to figure out how to save the Earth—if that’s even possible—we might as well do something useful.”

“Unbeliever,” Galt protested. “Ur-Lord. Ringthane. You must hear me. Linden Avery’s purpose is intolerable. She will surrender all hope and receive only her son—and that only if the word of this Insequent is worthy of trust. We have learned an unwonted esteem for the Mahdoubt, but the Insequent as a race are as contemptuous and cruel as the
Elohim
. They serve only themselves. And when the Harrow has gained white gold and the Staff of Law, he will possess less efficacy against the Worm than Linden Avery now holds, for he is the rightful wielder of neither.

“Surely there are other deeds within our strength which may serve to forestall the outcome of this Desecration. You must not permit—”

Covenant tried to hold—Linden saw that—but he failed. While she watched, he toppled into himself; slid down an inner slope. For reasons that no longer made sense, he waved her away, sending her toward the Harrow. Then he draped an arm over Galt’s shoulders and turned the Master in the opposite direction.

“Listen,” he said lightly, casually, as if he were gliding on oil, “did I ever tell you how the Theomach replaced the
Elohim
who guarded the One Tree? I can’t remember what we’ve talked about. The whole world is stories. Maybe I haven’t told them all.

“They didn’t call him the Guardian. He was the Appointed. The
first
Appointed. He used a different form every time somebody approached the Tree. He used different names. But he always stood in the way. Until the Theomach out-did him.”

In spite of his tone, Covenant’s manner seemed disjointed, confused by falling, as he drew the three Humbled with him. Yet somehow he contrived to insist; or the Masters felt required to attend him.

Indirectly he spared Linden the contention of the Humbled as she forced herself to approach the Harrow.

At once, Stave and Liand took positions at her shoulders. Mahrtiir instructed his Cords to watch over Covenant with Galt, Clyme, and Branl: then the Manethrall followed her. After an instant of hesitation, the Ironhand sent a few of her Swordmainnir to hear whatever Covenant might reveal to the Humbled. With the rest of her comrades, Coldspray joined Mahrtiir.

The Harrow waited where Linden had left him, as sure of himself as a plinth of marble. His chlamys hung at a jaunty angle from his shoulders. In the glow of the
krill
, the umber beads of his doublet looked strangely moist, as though they oozed damp theurgies. His trim beard jutted avidly.

Tense with fright or ire, as if the beast knew what Linden’s approach signified, the Harrow’s destrier watched her askance. But he had trained his mount well: it stood its ground.

“Lady.” The Insequent inclined his head with grave mockery. “On such a night, I am tolerant of interruption. Yet the hour is late, and the time has come for my long labors to bear their intended fruit. There can be no more apt occasion for my triumph than
Banas Nimoram
and the rousing of the Worm. The
Elohim
has fled, bearing her arrogance and self-woe to the distant reaches of the Earth. We must now speak of your son.”

Linden remembered too well the deep sound of his voice; his fertile taunts.
There is a service which I am able to perform for you, and which you will not obtain from any other living being
. She ached to defy his scorn. But she had created a crisis for herself, and her friends, and Thomas Covenant—for the entire living world—to which she had no answer except the most extreme sacrifice. And she had already made her decision. She recognized the danger. But she did not know—

“That’s right.” She glared up at him as if she could still bargain with him as an equal, in spite of her dismay. “My son. Here’s the problem. You want a lot, but you don’t give anything. You claim that you know where he is. You claim that you can take me to him. But you haven’t offered me even one reason to believe you. For all I know, this is just an elaborate charade. My God, Jeremiah is hidden from Esmer and the
Elohim
. As far as I know, Covenant can’t locate him. How am I supposed to believe that you’re the only one who knows where he is?

“How am I supposed to believe that you and no one else can help me get there?”

“You mistake me, lady.” The Harrow chuckled softly. “I did not avow that no other being is able to discern his covert, though it is certain that the
mere
-son and the
Elohim
cannot. Nor have I claimed that no other being is able to convey you thither. I merely state absolutely that no other being can both discern his hiding place and transport you to him.”

Before Linden could respond, Stave asked stiffly, “Other beings have knowledge of this covert? Name them, Insequent.”

She expected the Harrow to refuse; but he did not. “The unnatural lore of the ur-viles and Waynhim is capable of much,” he replied. “However, I will not translate their tongue for your edification. Nor will the
mere
-son, who fears them beyond measure. And he has deprived these Giants of the gift which once enabled them to comprehend the speech of such creatures.

“Lady,” he added with a hint of glee, “you have no path except to accept my aid in exchange for those instruments of power which I covet.”

“You’re wrong,” retorted Linden. “I can always refuse. In fact, that’s my only sane path, since you still haven’t given me a reason to believe you. Your whole attitude is inherently dishonest. Why should I just
trust
you?”

He smirked through his whiskers. “And must I therefore trust
you
? Must I convey you to your son in the fond hope that only then will you honor your own word? Lady, no. I have witnessed the extent of your folly. I will not assume that you are honorable merely because you wish me to do so.”