Against All Things Ending (33 page)

“They do not
intervene
,” Esmer snapped harshly, “because they discern no need. By my deeds, as by my presence, I have ensured that the Wildwielder’s son will perish. What remains to interrupt their terror of the Worm? While the boy cannot threaten them, they need dread only the Worm’s hunger.”

“Then tell us,” Coldspray said like her glaive, “how you have ensured our doom. Since you chafe to do so, reveal the import of your deeds and presence.”

After the simpler challenge of healing Liand’s lungs and ribs, the task of repairing his spine stretched Linden’s depleted stamina to its limits. There the damage was unspeakably complex. But she was immersed in her work now; and the strict vitality of the Staff aided her.

With percipience and Earthpower, she found the shards of vertebrae that pressed on his spinal cord. Those fragments she nudged aside so that she could mend the cord. Then she puzzled them back into their proper alignment. When they were all in place, she made split and shredded bones whole until she had reincarnated the structural integrity of Liand’s back.

At the same time, obliquely, she soothed Stave’s legs and Covenant’s hands. Given time, Stave’s hurts would now be able to heal. Covenant’s fingers and palms would not.

“By the display of powers here,” Esmer continued, “She Who Must Not Be Named has been fully roused.” As he spoke, chagrin and anger scudded through his voice like squalls. “Even now, She rises to ravage your souls. Against Her ire, only white gold may hope for efficacy. But there can be no wild magic while I remain nigh the ring.

“Yet that is not the sum of your perils, or of my treachery.” Fiercely Esmer accused himself. “I removed the Timewarden’s son from this chamber. Doing so, I prevented the Wildwielder’s child from flight. But I did not remove Kastenessen’s halfhand to his death. Rather I restored him to the Wightwarrens.

“In his greed for eternity, he fears that the Wildwielder’s son will be forever lost to him. Even now, he summons an army of Cavewights to join his efforts to reclaim the boy—and to confirm that no impossible twist of fate may retrieve you from ruin.”

Surprised, the Ardent sent out a flurry of ribbands to press themselves against the unmarked stone of the walls and ceiling. His eyes rolled back until only the whites reflected the nacre of the Viles, the silver of the
krill
’s gem, the yellow fire of Law. In a tranced croon, he murmured, “It is so. Perhaps two leagues above us lie the Wightwarrens. There gather Cavewights in their thousands. They answer the halfhand’s call to war.

“Millennia have passed since Drool Rockworm’s resurrection was denied to them, but they have not forgotten their fury.”

Deflected by memories, Linden faltered. Her senses stood at the threshold of the trauma to Liand’s skull, Liand’s brain; but she did not enter.—resurrection was denied—Long ago, the Cavewights had endeavored to restore their long-dead sovereign. Pitchwife and the First of the Search had interrupted their ritual, saving Linden and Covenant in the process. Later Covenant himself had turned that ritual against the creatures so that the Giants could reach Linden and the Staff of Law in Kiril Threndor.

She did not doubt that the wrath of the Cavewights had endured across the centuries. And she was no brain surgeon. The myriad implications of every neuron daunted her. With Earthpower and one mistake, she might erase Liand’s mind altogether.

But one memory of her struggles in Mount Thunder brought others. Wielding the Staff, she had quenched the Sunbane, not by overpowering it, but rather by accepting it into herself; by denaturing its virulence with her love for Covenant and the Land.

And earlier, she had brought Covenant back from an imposed stasis by making his plight her own.

She might do the same for Liand. If she erred, she rather than the Stonedownor would bear the cost.

At her side, Pahni emanated supplications which Linden Avery the Chosen could not refuse.

“In addition,” Esmer said like the knelling of storms, “
samadhi
Sheol has turned the Sandgorgons. Already they have begun the slaughter of Salva Gildenbourne. Soon, however, the Raver will direct them to more fatal deeds. And Kastenessen is now conscious of your presence here. In rage, he musters the
skurj
. Though She Who Must Not Be Named cannot fail, he covets your doom for himself. He fears the imprisonment which the Wildwielder’s son may devise for him. And he intends also to defend the source of Kevin’s Dirt.”

As Esmer recited threats, the Ardent appeared to grow unaccountably stronger; more sure of himself. His expression suggested knowledge or abilities that Esmer lacked. But he did not interrupt.

Like the Harrow, he knew how to transport the company out of the mountain’s depths. Out of danger.

“These creatures”—Cail’s son indicated the Waynhim and ur-viles dismissively—“have already informed you that they cannot oppose the
skurj
. They offer guidance, but they cannot save you. Apart from white gold, no living power may oppose She Who Must Not Be Named. Yet even this tally does not content a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells. At
moksha
Jehannum’s urging, Kastenessen commands further betrayals.”

Flinching as if his own treachery galled his many wounds, Esmer fell silent. Around him, the ur-viles and Waynhim muttered growls which the company could not interpret.

“Name them,” Coldspray demanded when Esmer did not continue. “Tell the tale of your evils in full.”

Conflicts seethed in Esmer’s gaze. “I will not. They will be revealed when they are needed. For that reason, I must have the Wildwielder’s heed. To her, I must repay the accumulating debt of my crimes.”

“It may be,” offered the Ardent with a hint of his complacent lisp, “that you are mistaken. Perchance it is her healing rather than her heed that you require. The poisons of your hurts corrupt your thoughts. You esteem your betrayals too highly.”

Esmer’s jaws clenched as if he wanted to shout lightning and thunder at the Insequent; but he made no retort.

Linden ignored them. The damage to Liand’s head was both less and more than she had feared. His skull was merely cracked: no splinters of bone pierced the delicate channels and membranes of his brain. But the bruising caused by his impact with the wall was severe. Edema exerted more and more pressure on his brain, constricting the flow of necessary fluids, causing neurons to misfire. Soon the effects of the swelling might kill him.

Hurtloam would have healed him. Linden was too drained and uncertain to do so. She dreaded what would happen when she took Liand’s hurt into herself. She had so many other dilemmas to confront, and her store of courage was already inadequate.

But fear had no place in the work that she had chosen when she had formed the Staff. And Liand’s pain was not the Sunbane. Like her, it was only human.

At last, she surrendered to her task. Groaning, she extended herself and fire into him in order to relieve his last injury.

Abruptly Galt announced to Esmer, “This is the havoc with which you charged Stave.” Galt remained behind Jeremiah and the
croyel
, controlling the monster with Loric’s blade. “Because you are Cail’s son, born of the
Haruchai
, you hold his race accountable for your divided nature. Nonetheless your deeds are your own. They spawn ruin because you choose that they should do so. If you perform treachery, the blame lies with you. It belongs neither to Cail nor to the
Haruchai
.”

“Indeed,” Esmer countered harshly. “What of it? Can you not discern my dearest wish, which is that I did not exist? Whom then shall I fault for the abomination of my birth? You avow that I choose. Cail also chose. The
merewives
did not. They do not. They are forces of seduction and revenge, nothing more. In their fashion, they are as mindless as storm and calm. Therefore they cannot be accused.

“If my powers sufficed to bring about my death, I would perish gladly. But they do not. For that reason also,
I must have the Wildwielder’s heed
.”

The stabbing of Liand’s pain as it became Linden’s blinded her. A blow like the jolt of a bludgeon nearly toppled her. She was no longer able to stand on her own: she could barely keep her grip on the Staff.

Fortunately she needed only a moment to draw his swelling into herself. Then her resolve failed, and she sagged with knives twisting in the back of her brain. Without the support of the Cords, she would have fallen. The Staff slipped from her fingers.

“Ringthane!” gasped Pahni. For a moment, her shock at Linden’s collapse matched her concern for Liand. Neither she nor Bhapa caught the Staff. As it clattered to the stone, Earthpower vanished from the chamber.

Mahrtiir barked a curse: he could not restrain himself. Once again, he was truly blind.

“Permit me.” With his apparel, the Ardent reached out to take Linden from Pahni and Bhapa. “Though I have entirely failed to demonstrate my worth, the time draws nigh when I will do so.” Carefully he bore her to the wall and set her down to rest against the nitid rock. “Her distress is extreme, but it will pass. It is the Stonedownor’s pain which wracks her. She has suffered no tangible wound.”

When he had settled Linden, he commanded, “Restore the Staff of Law to her arms. Mayhap its touch will ease her.”

Bhapa obeyed without hesitation. Soon Linden felt the warm wood against her chest. But she was immersed in agony and could not call upon the Staff’s benign theurgy.

Moaning, Liand began to stir in Stonemage’s arms. Pahni cried his name softly as he tried to lift his head.

“My hands.” Covenant’s voice cracked in dismay. “I need my hands. Hell and blood. I have to be able to hold the
krill
.”

Then he groaned, “Oh,
Linden
. What have you done to yourself? You shouldn’t—I was trying to help. I didn’t want this to happen.”

I must have the Wildwielder’s heed.

Linden heard nothing, saw nothing. The glow of the walls had been effaced. Darkness filled the world: darkness and defeat. They fulfilled all of Esmer’s predictions.

How had Liand borne this? Unconsciousness had been his only solace, but it was denied to her. She had no defense except the dark, and it was not enough.

Then a voice pierced her hurt. At her ear, someone who may have been Stave said firmly, “Drink, Chosen.” She felt cold iron press against her lips. Somewhere in the darkness, she smelled
vitrim
. “The Waynhim offer succor. Already the ur-viles tend to the Unbeliever’s hands. If they cannot restore his flesh, they will ease his suffering. And I also will accept their balm, though you have diminished my need. You must drink.”

Like the barking of ghouls, Jeremiah began to laugh.

The sound transformed the blades in Linden’s head. Without transition, they became an altogether different kind of wound.

Her son could not laugh. He could not. She knew that. With the Power of Command, she had exposed the truth of his possession. The
croyel
was laughing through him; using her son’s lungs and throat and mouth to express its malice.

“So here you are, Mom.” Contempt and fear throbbed in his voice. They cut at her like the daggers of Liand’s transferred trauma. “Do you like what you’ve accomplished so far? You won’t be able to keep me long. That bane’s going to eat you alive, but she won’t touch me. She won’t like the taste. And Roger will come for me soon.

“But you know the best part?” He seemed to strive for a tone of superiority that eluded him. “You’re wrong about me. The Mahdoubt saw the truth, but she talked herself out of it. I belong to the Despiser. I
do
. I’ve been his ever since I put my hand in that bonfire ten years ago. I even learned to enjoy it.

“You kept trying to reach me, you kept
trying
, and you’re so earnest about it, I just had to laugh.”

Jeremiah—He or the
croyel
made Linden want to scream. She ached for the fused rage which had sustained her on Gallows Howe; but she had lost that granite. She was too weak and blind and beaten to find it in herself again.

“You have no idea,” her son continued, mocking her, “how much fun I had steering you here. With
Legos!
At first, you had me worried. You’re so slow on the uptake. But once you got to Revelstone, you thought you figured it out. After that, all I had to do was wait.”

“Oh, stop,” Covenant rasped as though he had the authority to command the
croyel
. “You aren’t fooling anybody. You didn’t want
this
. If you did, you wouldn’t be so scared now.”

He sounded stronger than he should have been. With lore and
vitrim
, the ur-viles had done more for him than Linden could.

“You wanted us to come here,” Covenant continued. “I believe
that
. Once the Worm woke up, Lord Foul could relax. He’s sure he’s going to escape the Arch. So now he’s just looking for entertainment. Trying to cause as much despair as he can while he waits. You all are, you and the Ravers and Lord Foul and my son.

“But you didn’t want
this
. It never occurred to you, any of you, that we might actually get here and trap you. You weren’t counting on
her
.” He must have meant She Who Must Not Be Named. “She doesn’t care what you taste like. She’ll take anything. You were counting on Roger. Now you’re in as much trouble as the rest of us, and you’re scared out of your mind.

“So stop sneering,” Covenant ordered sternly. “If I tell him to do it, Galt will be glad to make a few cuts in your throat, just to remind you you’re
vulnerable
.”

Jeremiah did not reply. Apparently the
croyel
feared the
krill
too much to test Covenant’s threat.

With Liand’s edema compressing her brain, Linden would not have believed that she could feel more pain. Surely any increase would have driven her into a coma? I belong to the Despiser. But her son’s tormentor had shown her that she was wrong.

Compelled by intolerable hurt and blindness, she gulped at the
vitrim
that Stave held to her lips.