Against All Things Ending (63 page)

But Mahrtiir did not relent. “And I will not hear of fault!” he shouted. “
Attempts must be made
. We have spoken of this, Ringthane. Even when there can be no hope. Your son requires redemption. Therefore Liand strove to succor him. To claim fault demeans the Stonedownor’s sacrifice.”

With a visible effort, the Manethrall lowered his voice. “Mischance alone released Anele from Stormpast Galesend’s protection. Thereafter Kastenessen’s deeds could doubtless be foreseen. Yet the assault of such
caesures
—aye, and of
caesures
invested with such purpose—could not. And it was not inattention which caused the mischance of Anele’s release. Stormpast Galesend’s stumble was the consequence of unprecedented hazards. If you wish to assign fault, you must name her also. Indeed, you must name every Giant among us, and cast aspersion upon all who have learned to love the Stonedownor. Like you, we knew of the old man’s plight, and of his desire to be given
orcrest
when some aspect of his madness demanded clarity.

“Hear me well, Ringthane,” Mahrtiir demanded through his teeth. “You tread paths prepared for you by Fangthane’s malice. Speaking of fault, you bind yourself to his service.”

Linden bowed her head under the weight of his ire. As if to herself, she sighed, “You don’t understand.” No one except Covenant had truly understood her. Lord Foul knew her better than Mahrtiir did. She Who Must Not Be Named knew her better. “What I’ve done is all I have. Without it, I’m nothing. I ignored Anele. I roused the Worm. I followed Roger when he was pretending to be Covenant.” Despair made sense. The new blackness of Earthpower in her hands suited her. “If I don’t take responsibility, I might as well be dead.”

All three of the Humbled watched her as if she had justified their deepest distrust.

She felt Bhapa’s desire to protest. Stave also seemed ready to object. But Rime Coldspray spoke first.

“Enough.” Like an appeal for forbearance, she rested one hand on Clyme’s shoulder. “Linden Giantfriend, it is enough. If joy is in the ears that hear, then I must answer you with laughter. I do not only because I fear to augment your dismay.”

Frostheart Grueburn murmured her assent. Several of the other Giants nodded.

“You demand perfection of yourself,” Coldspray continued, “when mischance and error are the lot of all who live and die. You have assumed burdens sufficient to cow even Giants. For doing so, we honor you. If betimes you chance to stumble, as did Stormpast Galesend—

“Well.” The Ironhand tightened her grip on Clyme momentarily, then released him. “Among Giants, you would perhaps be named Blunderfoot.” Frowning, she nodded toward both Latebirth and Galesend. “Thereafter you would doubtless be often teased. But you would not be faulted. In the
caamora
, you would allay your pain and lamentation. Then you would arise, and shoulder your burdens again, and be held in undiminished esteem by all who accompany you.

“I myself,” she admitted, “have upon occasion assigned blame to myself. Now I cede that I erred in doing so. There was no harm in my heart when I delivered the blow which gave rise to Lostson Longwrath’s madness. There was no harm in Latebirth’s heart when by mischance she permitted Longwrath’s escape and Scend Wavegift’s death. There was no harm in Stormpast Galesend’s heart when she stumbled. And there was no harm in your heart, Linden Giantfriend, when you fixed your attention and yearning upon your son rather than upon Anele. If I grieve for you, I grieve only because your flesh cannot suffer the healing hurt of flames.

“There is wisdom in the Manethrall’s words.” Coldspray shook her head sadly. “You have spoken with the voice of despair.”

If the Ironhand had shared Linden’s nightmares, she would have recognized that voice. It was the scurry of noisome things that feasted on carrion; the shrieking of the bane’s victims. Ever since Linden had surrendered to the horror of She Who Must Not Be Named��no, ever since she had stood on Gallows Howe—she had forgotten forgiveness.

She did not choose to remember it now.

With the surface of her mind, however, she understood Coldspray. She understood Mahrtiir. Superficially she could acknowledge their arguments. And she had succeeded in her immediate aim: she had deflected the recriminations of the Humbled from both Galt and Anele.

“All right,” she muttered without lifting her head. “I get it. Liand is dead.” She said his name as if it were as dangerous as the
krill
. “The
croyel
still has Jeremiah. That’s what matters. Talking about me right now is just a distraction.

“We’re wasting time.” Grimly she forced herself to look up at her companions. “We ought to concentrate on what’s important.”

The Giants had no wood for a
caamora
. Like Linden and the Ramen and even Stave, they would have to find some other way to anneal their loss.

Apparently Pahni had been waiting for Linden to acknowledge Liand’s death. Now she lowered him to the ground. Gently she settled his limbs as if to make him comfortable. Then she surged to her feet and flung herself at Linden.

With the
krill
’s light behind her, the Cord’s visage was masked by shadows. Nevertheless her anguish outran her. Pain as raw as an objurgation stung Linden like a blow. Before Pahni reached her, she flinched.

Quicker than the girl, Stave stepped forward to intercept her. But Pahni wrenched to a halt before he touched her. Her garrote she gripped taut between her fists, although she seemed unaware of it. For a moment, her chest heaved so hard that she could not shape words.

“Cord,” Mahrtiir said sharply. “Compose yourself.” Ire and compassion struggled in his tone. “This is unseemly.”

Pahni ignored him. “Ringthane!” she cried: a ragged shout rife with imminent hysteria. “Restore him!”

“Pahni!” Now the Manethrall’s voice cracked like a whip. “
Compose
yourself! Is this the conduct of a Cord?”

Still she ignored him. In jagged gasps, she demanded, “You must
restore
him!”

Shaken, Linden hardly heard herself protest, “I can’t.”

“You
must!
” yelled Pahni. “He is my love! And his death is needless! He has given himself in your name, and
it is needless!
”

“Pahni!” Mahrtiir urged. With both hands, he reached out to restrain or embrace her.

So fluidly that Linden scarcely saw her move, Pahni snapped her garrote around the Manethrall’s wrists, jerked them together. In the same motion, she sprang past Mahrtiir and raised her arms over her head; used her fighting cord to flip him off his feet.

Branl caught him before he struck the ground. Clyme positioned himself to ward off a following attack.

But Pahni had already returned to Linden. She held her garrote ready for Linden’s throat.

“You will
heed
me, Ringthane!” she shouted like pelting hailstones. “In Andelain, you restored your own love! Now you will return mine to me! Every instrument is present. White gold. The Staff of Law. The
krill
of High Lord Loric. And
there
”—she did not drop her hands—“lies Liand slain!

“Are you heartless? I know that you are not!
Therefore you must renew his life!
”

Mahrtiir had regained his feet. Now he showed his own speed. Blind, he moved unerringly to grasp Pahni’s garrote between her fists. Then he was behind her. Pulling on her cord, he bent her arms until he could pin them with his own.

“Pahni,” groaned Bhapa. “Oh, Pahni.” Refused weeping clogged his voice. “You must not. You must not.”

“Ringthane!” The young Cord thrashed against Mahrtiir’s clasp. “
You will heed me!
”

Her every word left wounds like the scoring of claws.

“I can’t,” Linden said again. Abruptly she dropped her Staff. As if she were striking herself, she snatched Covenant’s ring out of her pocket and hurled it to the dirt. Then she went to wrap her arms around Pahni and Mahrtiir.

“I would if I could,” she breathed like a moan in Pahni’s ear. “For you, I would. Even if I didn’t love him myself.” Even if she had not already violated so many Laws. “But I can’t. I just can’t.

“I don’t know where he is.”

For a moment, the Cord paused to listen. Then she began to fight again. “He is
there
!” she cried as if she wanted to sink her teeth into Linden’s throat. “His body lies
there
!”

“I know.” Like Bhapa, Linden refused weeping. “I know that. But I don’t know where his spirit is.

“In Andelain, Covenant was right in front of me. I didn’t need his body because his
spirit
was there.” It implied every aspect of his lost flesh. “He was still himself. But all I have now is Liand’s body. I can’t call his spirit back,” even if she could have repaired his skull, “because I don’t know where it is.

“Maybe he’s among the Dead in Andelain. I hope so. But I can’t reach that far. I can’t locate him, never mind ask him to live again. And I can’t create a new soul for his poor body out of empty air. I don’t know
how
.” She had learned none of the lore of the Old Lords. Even the meaning of Caerroil Wildwood’s runes mystified her. “Whatever I made—if I could make anything at all—it wouldn’t be Liand.”

This time, the sound of his name in her own mouth went through her like a spear. It seemed to repeat the moment of his destruction: the brutal slap of Anele’s hands; the sudden rage of lava; the ravage of bone and blood and brain. Gasping, she clenched her teeth, bit down on her pain, so that she would not cry out in Pahni’s ear.

Briefly Pahni continued to writhe against Mahrtiir’s embrace, and Linden’s. Then, so suddenly that she appeared to stop breathing, the Cord went limp.

Imagining that Pahni had fainted, Linden released her. The Manethrall eased his clasp; shifted his feet so that he could scoop the Cord into his arms.

In that instant, Pahni spun free. Fiercely she threw a punch at Linden’s face: a blow that would have staggered Linden if Stave had not deflected it. Instead Pahni’s knuckles only clipped Linden’s cheek; jolted her. Phosphenes like lightning flashed across her sight and were gone.

Wailing, “
He is my love!
” Pahni fled.

Mahrtiir made no attempt to stop her. When Cabledarm moved to catch her, the Manethrall barked, “Do not!” and Cabledarm let the girl pass.

Sprinting into the night, Pahni headed down the southward slope of the ridge. Almost at once, she dropped beyond the reach of the
krill
’s illumination.

“Manethrall,” Bhapa protested: a muffled plea.

Mahrtiir faced Pahni’s flight. In his fist, he held her garrote. After a moment, he gestured Bhapa into motion.

“Follow, Cord,” he commanded softly. “Do what you may to ward her from harm. But do not intrude upon her sorrow. She has lost her first love. Such attachment is sometimes deep and lifelong, but always as rending as fangs.”

Linden had done nothing to relieve Bhapa’s hurts. She had treated none of her companions.

While the older Cord hastened away, the Manethrall addressed Linden obliquely. “She is Ramen. She will become herself again when she is needed.”

Then he turned to study Linden through his bandage. “Ringthane,” he said stiffly, withholding anger, “I crave your pardon on my Cord’s behalf. She would not suffer so, had she not heard the Timewarden imply Liand’s doom.”

I wish I could spare you
.

“Nonetheless she
is
Ramen, and has committed insult. To raise her hand against the Ringthane is inexcusable. Yet I must excuse it. Therefore I will bear any consequence which you may choose to require.”

Mahrtiir—Unable to master her voice, Linden simply went to the Manethrall and hugged him: the only language she had.

At first, he stood rigid, affronted; as unyielding as one of the
Haruchai
. But then she felt him soften as though she had won his assent.

She wanted to sob on his shoulder, and could not. Her emotions were too extreme. Liand’s death and Jeremiah’s plight left no room in her heart for other forms of surrender.

After a moment, she stepped back.

“The consequence,” said Cabledarm gruffly, as if she expected an argument, “is that all must excuse Pahni of the Ramen.”

“Our regard for her is assured,” the Ironhand answered, mildly reproving. “We need no urging to countenance her grief and ire. Therefore I ask a more exigent consequence.

“Linden Giantfriend must also excuse herself.”

Before Linden could find words, Clyme spoke.

“The Humbled do not excuse her. All that has transpired results from her transgressions. We sought to prevent her violation of Law in Andelain, but were opposed. That failure cannot be undone. And because we are the Humbled, we now honor the Unbeliever’s return. Yet some action we must take against Desecration. We are
Haruchai.
We are Masters. In a former age, we were Bloodguard. We do not condone. Nor will we permit.”

“Permit what, sleepless one?” asked Mahrtiir sharply. “What is it that you will not condone?”

Around him, several of the Giants moved closer, ready to intervene. Cirrus Kindwind withdrew slightly to keep Covenant out of harm. But Stave did not react.

He knew what the Humbled were thinking.

Without inflection, Clyme replied, “You have beheld the blackness of Linden Avery’s flame. You have witnessed her taint. You can no longer doubt that Earthpower is perilous. Therefore we will retrieve the Sunstone from the old man. We will allow him no further access to its magicks. In his hands,
orcrest
may also be turned to Corruption.”

As if their rectitude were self-evident, Clyme and Branl started toward Stormpast Galesend and Anele.

“No!” Linden cried out. God, she had misunderstood the Humbled. Again! Fearing for Galt and Anele as well as herself, she had jumped to the wrong conclusions.

With one arm, Coldspray barred the path of the two Humbled, although she did not touch them. In a granite voice, she announced, “Nevertheless you will do Linden Giantfriend the courtesy of hearing her objection. You propose to wrest Anele’s only sanity from him. Yet he has served us well—and has been much abused. We will not stand aside while he is harmed.”