Against All Things Ending (53 page)

“Ah, Ringthane,” the girl replied with a sigh of her own. “I am a small creature among the great beings and terrors of the world. My concerns do not merit your heed.”

Don’t touch me.

Then the Cord turned. Gazing nakedly into Linden’s eyes, Pahni said, “Yet Liand is not a small creature. He is not. He is the first true Stonedownor in uncounted centuries, wielder of the Sunstone’s wonder”—she faltered for a moment—“and my beloved. His valor and daring are worthy of Giantish tales. Indeed, they are worthy of the Ranyhyn. For his sake, I will speak.”

Linden knew what was coming. Nevertheless she required herself to wait in silence.

Carefully Pahni said, “It becomes ever plainer that when Anele addressed us on the plateau of Glimmermere, he spoke at the Timewarden’s behest. His pronouncements were given to him by the Timewarden’s spanning consciousness.”

Linden nodded. “I remember.”

I wish I could spare you
.
Hell, I wish any of us could spare you
.
But I can’t see any way around it
.

“Then you will recall,” the Cord continued, “that Anele’s words led Liand to the
orcrest
which has exalted him. But they also suggested some arduous and mayhap fatal outcome which can not or must not be evaded.

“Ringthane—” Again Pahni faltered. Lowering her eyes, she asked over the background whisper of the stream, “Do you now comprehend the Timewarden’s prophecy? It lies beyond me, little as I am. By bravery and foresight and love, you have grown to stand among the mighty of the Earth—aye, and to defy them when you must. Do you possess any light that may dispel the darkness which knots my heart? For Liand’s sake, I ask it—he who has been your friend and companion from the start, and has never wavered.”

Oh, Pahni, Linden wanted to say. You’re going to break my heart. She had been afraid for Liand since the day when he had insisted on aiding her escape from Mithil Stonedown. But she had no idea what Covenant’s assertions meant.

She can do this
.
Tell her I said that
.
And there’s no one else who can even make the attempt
.

Stroking the Staff for courage, she answered, “I’m sorry, Pahni. I just don’t. No matter what you think, I’m not brave, and I sure as hell don’t have any foresight. The future is as dark to me as it is to you. You’ll have to ask Covenant,” although he had probably lost that memory. “Or I will, if you want.”

Pahni set her teeth. Blinking furiously, she stared out over the watercourse. “I discern sooth in your words,” she said after a moment. “But I do not grasp how they can be sooth. You are Linden Avery, Linden Giantfriend, the Ringthane, the Chosen. How does it chance that you are able to offer me naught?”

“You don’t understand,” Linden replied more severely than she intended, “but you should. You called yourself a small creature. That’s how
I
feel. All the time.” She gestured around her. “I’m too little for all this. I want to save my son. If I can’t do that, I want to keep him safe as long as possible. That’s as far as I go. The rest of it—” She had made too many promises which she could not keep. Even resurrecting Covenant was a promise she had already broken by failing to resurrect him whole. “The rest is too much for me. It’s someone else’s problem.”

A frown complicated the Cord’s mien. “I discern sooth,” she repeated. Then she said more strongly, “Nonetheless I deem that you are mistaken in yourself. Time and again, you have vindicated the Timewarden’s faith in you. Time and again, you have wrought miracles for our redemption. If you name yourself a small creature, as I am, you gauge yourself unjustly.”

“No, I don’t,” Linden retorted with more vehemence. “You still don’t understand what I’m trying to say. Liand isn’t small, and neither are you. If there’s any greatness left in the world, it’s
yours
.” And Covenant’s. “Greatness isn’t about power. It’s about who you are. You’re so unselfish that it staggers me. You make yourselves greater every day. I’m just shrinking.”

Stricken by horror and weakness, she had drowned in She Who Must Not Be Named: she knew the truth.

Why else did she need Covenant so badly?

Why else had he refused her?

Now the girl faced Linden again. With none of her familiar unassuming shyness, she said, “Then truly, Ringthane, you have no choice—you who are called the Chosen. You must relieve your son from the toils of the
croyel
. If you do not, you will founder in bitterness, and Fangthane’s triumph over you will be complete.”

Linden ground her teeth. “In that case”—abruptly she withdrew her feet from the stream and stood up—“we should get started on—on whatever it is we’re going to do. I hope you’re wrong. But I doubt it.”

Where her son was concerned, she had made the only choice that mattered when she adopted him.

Graceful as water, Pahni also rose. Her eagerness to return to Liand was palpable as she went to retrieve Linden’s boots.

But Linden was not eager. She was simply vexed. Yet behind her ire lay an ache of dread. Covenant had already pushed her away. If he also pushed away the decisions and responsibilities that she had trusted him to assume—if he repudiated
all
of her reasons for restoring his life—

She was not sure that she would be able to face him.

P
lodding through arid heat over the baked hills, Linden was sweating in spite of her soaked boots and damp socks as she rejoined the company.

From the hillside above them, she saw Covenant and Stave, Jeremiah and Galt, Liand and Anele, the Giants and Manethrall Mahrtiir and Bhapa. A glance was enough to assure her that they had rested and drunk their fill. Temporarily, at least, most of them had recovered a portion of their natural toughness. Now they sat waiting in the shade among the boulders close to the stream.

On nearby ridges, Clyme and Branl stood watch. This far from the Land’s foes, Linden could not imagine that the company faced any immediate danger except hunger. Nevertheless she was glad for the wariness of the Humbled.

She also could not imagine why the Ardent had brought her companions here, where they could do nothing. Nor did she understand why the Insequent had abandoned them.

Liand greeted her and Pahni with a glad shout. Wasting his scant stamina, he sprang to his feet and hurried up the hillside to meet them. With a warm smile for Pahni, he wrapped his arms around Linden.

His hug was brief, a momentary taste of the deeper embraces for which she was starving. Nevertheless it steadied her. It reminded her sore nerves and her hidden wounds that she was not alone, in spite of Covenant’s rejection. She still had friends who were strong and faithful, friends who had earned every bit of her esteem. If Covenant refused to lead the company, perhaps someone else would do so.

The salutations of the Swordmainnir were less impulsive, but they all rose from their resting places and spoke Linden’s name with evident relief, pleased to see for themselves that she had escaped her nightmares.

Anele sat in Galesend’s armor without acknowledging Linden. In contrast, Mahrtiir gave her a bow of approval; and Bhapa waved, grinning crookedly. But Jeremiah did not react, and the
croyel
ignored her. For reasons of its own, the creature’s gaze followed Liand. As usual, the Humbled revealed nothing.

Depending on the Staff and Liand for balance, Linden made her way down the slope. As she descended, she studied Covenant’s twisted effort to smile for her. Protecting herself, she tried to think, Go to hell. But she could not look at him and feel that way. At least for the time being, he was
present
. In spite of his rejection, she prayed that his absences would grow less frequent as his long past leaked away.

Like her, he was becoming less than he had once been. To that extent, at least, she understood his desire to distance himself.

She would have preferred to avoid looking at Jeremiah. She did not want to be reminded that nothing had changed. But even a brief glance at his slack stance and muddied gaze, the droop of his mouth, and the stubble like grime on his cheeks confirmed that he was still the
croyel
’s prisoner. And the monster’s possessive malice was unabated. Despite the eldritch keenness of the
krill
’s edge only a breath from its neck, its eyes glared with unspecified threats, and its jaws champed steadily, avid to sink its fangs into Jeremiah’s throat once more.

The sores on his neck where the creature had fed were raw and open; but they did not bleed, and showed no sign of infection. For the present, at least, Linden lacked the courage to risk treating them.

If the
croyel
had some concrete reason to hope for rescue, she could not perceive it: not without wielding the fire of her Staff. But soon, she promised herself. Soon she would make the attempt. Earlier she had been appalled by what she had discerned of the
croyel
’s mind—and of its intimate bond with Jeremiah’s. Now she had other resources.

If her Staff did not suffice, the unobstructed penetration of her health-sense might enable her to wield wild magic with enough precision to threaten the
croyel
without harming her son.

But not yet. She was not ready. Inanition and helpless screaming had left her frail; too weak for extravagant hazards. She needed time to gather herself before she confronted the challenge of her son’s straits.

Apart from Covenant and Anele, all of Linden’s companions were on their feet. When she sank down to sit leaning against a rock a few paces from Covenant, however, the Giants also seated themselves, sighing gratefully. Liand and the Ramen did the same. Perhaps deliberately, they formed a wide circle that arced from Linden to Covenant and back without excluding Anele.

Uncertain of what to say, or how to begin, Linden asked awkwardly, “Have you decided anything?”

“Without you?” Covenant snorted; but his scorn was not directed at her. Instead he seemed angry at himself. “You forget who you’re talking to. One way or another, we’re all yours.” Abruptly he grimaced. “Or they are, anyway.” With one truncated hand, he indicated the circle. “In any case, none of us is going to make plans without you.”

I know this is hard
.
I know you think you’ve come to the end of what you can do
.
But you aren’t done
.

Earlier he had commanded the Humbled to support her; but she was not confident that they would do so.

And his effort to distinguish between himself and the rest of her companions pained her. She was not ready for this. Oh, she was
not
. She needed him to tell her and everyone what to do.

Yet she had to say
some
thing. Shading her eyes from the clarity of the sunlight, she did what she could.

“Then we should probably start with the obvious. Maybe Stave can tell us how to find food.” He knew this region. The
Haruchai
as a race forgot nothing. “But what I really want to know—” She swallowed thickly: her throat was already dry again. “Why did the Ardent leave us? And why did he leave us
here
?”

Covenant twitched his shoulders: a shrug like a flinch. “He left because he thinks he’s doomed. Interfering with the Harrow is going to destroy him, and he wants to do one more thing for us before he falls apart. I guess he’s hoping his people will hold him together a little longer.

“As for
here
—He talked about a respite. Distance from our enemies. A chance to recover and maybe even think.” A scowl deepened Covenant’s gaze. “He hinted at something else, too, but he wasn’t clear about it.”

While Linden tried to accept the shock of hearing that the Ardent had sacrificed himself for her and Jeremiah—that he had followed the Mahdoubt’s example to his own ruin—Rime Coldspray continued Covenant’s answer as if she wanted to spare him.

“In addition, the Ardent conceives that the flood which you released under Gravin Threndor has wrought some profound alteration among the hazards of these times. He deems that it has washed away the auguries of his people. Now your fate is ‘writ in water.’ Therefore he can offer no more guidance.”

Writ in water. Involuntarily Linden winced. During her escape from Mithil Stonedown, the Despiser himself had informed her that her fate was
written in water
.

Nothing made sense to her. Her companions had only begun talking, and already they had said too much. How had what she and the ur-viles had done changed the logic of the Land’s plight, or of Lord Foul’s manipulations? Surely that was impossible?

The Ardent interrupted her confusion. “And therefore,” he announced in the blank air, “I return to fulfill my given word.”

Swirling his ribbands, he incarnated himself within the circle of the company.

“The Insequent,” he informed the astonished companions, “have elected to honor your need for my aid to this extent.” His voice was a wracked shadow of his former plump lisp. “By their powers and knowledge, I am spared to perform my promised service.”

Clasped or cradled in his raiment, he bore burdens of all sizes, at least a score of them: bedrolls, heavy sacks, bulging waterskins. Wearing his bundles like a penumbra that almost filled the circle, he was as laden as a caravan. Swift as intuition, Linden recognized that the sacks were packed with food and flasks of wine.