Against All Things Ending Part 47

Kneeling beside him, Linden tried to say his name. But her throat closed against her.

"Linden Avery," he gasped wetly. He must have felt her presence. "Chosen and Sun-Sage. Accept my grat.i.tude-and my farewell."

Gripping the Staff, Linden fumbled for Earthpower. But Anele panted, "Do not. Do not heal. Make no lament. My time is past. I was the hope of the Land. Now I have given that gift to another. I have kept faith with my inheritance." Small spasms of suffocation wracked his chest, but he fought to speak. "Now I may stand with Sunder my father and Hollian my mother, and feel no shame. If you slow my end, you will delay my spirit from their embrace."

In sorrow, Linden acceded. It was intolerable that she had no good farewell to give the old man. After a moment, she forced herself to reply.

"I don't know anything about hope." Her heart was full of darkness. "But I'm sure that Sunder and Hollian have always been proud of you. As proud as I am." Her voice caught. She had to struggle to finish. "You could have just let Jeremiah suffer, but you didn't. You didn't."

"Thus I am made whole," Anele sighed. The words were a hoa.r.s.e rattle of fluids. "I am content."

Then his eyelids closed on all that he had lost or surrendered. Slowly his body settled until it seemed to belong to the Earth.

There is no death that is not deeply felt, There is no death that is not deeply felt, No pain that does not bite through flesh and bone.

Now Linden understood the necessity of his madness. Without it-without that form of concealment-Kastenessen or Lord Foul might have realized that Anele was far more dangerous to their intentions for Jeremiah than Liand or orcrest orcrest. More dangerous than Linden herself. Kastenessen might have killed the old man at his first opportunity, in the Verge of Wandering.

All hurt is like the endless surge of seas, All hurt is like the endless surge of seas, The wear and tumbling that leaves no welt But only sand instead of granite ease.

As she had with Stave, Linden wanted to stay with Anele awhile. Her debt to him was boundless: he deserved more than her paltry sentences. But there was nothing left that she could do for him, and other needs demanded her care.

Feeling as blood-stained and barren as the hills, she climbed upright, secured her grasp on the Staff, and turned to the Giants.

Some of them were close to joining Anele and Galt. And Liand.

One of the Waynhim stood in front of her, snuffling damply to ascertain her scent. The creature lifted a small iron cup of vitrim vitrim. She took it gratefully, drained it in three unsteady swallows.

While the piercing tonic of the Demondim-sp.a.w.n raced along her nerves, she raised fire from the heartwood of her Staff: fire that should never have been used to deliver death. Though her flame was black, it was still Earthpower. It still articulated Law. Setting aside her despair, she faced the Swordmainnir and rea.s.sumed the forsaken task of healing.

As she did so, she heard or felt Covenant's ascent on the ridgeside. He came wreathed in an air of ferocity that she had seen before, long ago-although she had never seen it expressed in bloodshed like hers. Behind him, Pahni trailed numbly, still preoccupied by Liand's pa.s.sing and her own woe.

Linden ignored him; left Mahrtiir and Bhapa to greet or forestall him. She had already kept the Giants waiting too long.

With a quick sweep of her health-sense, she a.s.sessed the urgent clamor of wounds, some more immediately cruel than others, all potentially fatal. Then she wrapped a coc.o.o.n of Earthpower and Law around Onyx Stonemage to stabilize the Giant's heartbeat while flames as poignant as lamentation ma.s.saged healing into cuts and deep gashes, severed thews, bitter contusions.

But Linden could not tend Stonemage thoroughly: not yet. There were too many other hurts. As soon as she had eased the most dangerous of Stonemage's injuries, she gave Cirrus Kindwind a quick burst of kindness, then turned to spin fire around Cabledarm's mangled leg.

Before Covenant was halfway to the ridgecrest, Esmer called softly, "Wildwielder. I must pa.s.s soon. To do so, I crave your consent. Will you not pause to acknowledge that I am justified at last? Good has been accomplished by evil means."

Linden did not glance at him. When she had burned away the worst effects of Cabledarm's wound, she coiled black flames around Latebirth's chest so that none of the Swordmain's shattered ribs would shift to puncture her lungs or her heart. Earthpower was still Earthpower. Linden's health-sense enabled her to mend and cleanse in spite of her essential bitterness.

Through her teeth, she told Esmer, "You finally picked a side. You chose betrayal." If the ur-viles and Waynhim had not come-"How does that justify you?"

In her soiled state, each new effort of healing felt more like an act of violence.

As Latebirth began to breathe more easily, Linden moved to Frostheart Grueburn. Carefully she sealed rent vessels and ligaments so that Rime Coldspray could draw out the spear without too much loss of blood.

"I did not choose here," Esmer replied like the soughing of winds that touched only him. "At Kastenessen's behest, I endeavored to preserve the croyel croyel. For your sake, I also strove to preserve your son. By imprisoning the boy's gifts, I would betray you. By leaving him alive in your care, I would thwart Kastenessen. Thus I endeavored to perfect my excruciation."

And Jeremiah's torment in the croyel croyel's possession would have continued. Bitterly Linden began to lash out, flailing at Rime Coldspray's hurts, and at Halewhole Bluntfist's, as if she sought to punish them.

The Giants bore her vehemence in silence. Her harsh succor they endured as if it were a caamora caamora.

"Yet on one occasion I did choose," Esmer continued. "When I brought the ur-viles and their manacles to this time, I repudiated my grandsire. Will you deny that I have suffered for my deeds?"

He may have been asking Linden's forgiveness. Helpless, he knelt with pleading like rain in his eyes. The fetters on his wrists bound every expression of his power.

Incensed and shaken, she tried to restrain herself. The Swordmainnir had hazarded their lives for her. For Jeremiah. For Covenant. They needed to be caressed with healing, not whipped. While she struggled to bind her heart to its task, she bathed Stormpast Galesend in swift flames. Then she returned to her starting place with Onyx Stonemage and began to work more meticulously, striving now for completeness.

Will you deny that I have suffered-?

Together Mahrtiir and Bhapa left the ridge to meet Covenant, followed by Clyme and Branl. The two Humbled were too sorely injured to walk without limping. In spite of their great strength, they looked like they might pitch forward onto their faces. Yet the Manethrall-badly hurt himself, and sustained only by vitrim vitrim-did not refuse their company.

They accosted Covenant a dozen paces below the crest; but Linden could not hear what they said. Whatever it was, it caused him to pause and listen.

In spite of her concentration on Stonemage, she wanted to ask Esmer, How did the ur-viles know what was going to happen? How did you? But another question leapt into her mouth.

"Why does Lord Foul care about Jeremiah? With or without the croyel croyel, he's just a boy," ensepulchered and inaccessible. "What difference does he make to the Despiser?"

Like a dying breeze, Esmer breathed, "A-Jeroth's designs are hidden from me. I know only that his hunger concerning the boy's gifts festers within him. Perhaps he perceives an obscure peril. Or perhaps those gifts are necessary to his intent. In either case, he craves possession of your son.

"Such concerns matter naught to Kastenessen. Though moksha moksha Raver hints of them, Kastenessen does not heed him." Raver hints of them, Kastenessen does not heed him."

Roger wanted A portal to eternity A portal to eternity. But Linden was too weary to pursue the idea. The next injury, and the next, required too much of her attention. A certain amount of Stonemage's recovery could be entrusted to her native toughness. The rest, however- Abruptly Covenant's voice carried up the slope: a bark of outrage or dismay. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! Why didn't one of you hit hit me? Break my arm? Do me? Break my arm? Do something something? I might have been able to help!"

"How?" retorted Mahrtiir. Linden heard him clearly. "You are no warrior. You hold no implements of power."

"I know that," Covenant almost shouted. "But I would have been one h.e.l.l of a distraction." More quietly, he added, "If nothing else, I could have held the krill krill for Galt. He might still be alive." for Galt. He might still be alive."

Grinding her teeth, Linden finished her work with Stonemage. She closed her eyes for a moment, wrestled for self-control. Then she turned Earthpower and Law on Cirrus Kindwind.

Kindwind was not in more danger than her comrades. She was simply closer to Linden.

"Wildwielder." Esmer's appeal sank as if he had lost hope. Nevertheless he continued to insist. "I cannot endure as I am. Nor do I wish to do so. An end I must have, if you will grant it. Still I beseech your acknowledgment that I am justified. If you cannot hear Cail's voice in any other deed of mine, will you not concede worth to the presence of the ur-viles in this time? By their hands, I am undone. And your son's release betrays both Kastenessen and a-Jeroth."

Crushed nerves. Shredded veins and arteries. Muscles and tendons and ligaments torn or severed. Infection everywhere. Raw contusions. Bruises as brutal as knife-thrusts. The profligate reek of blood and dirt and too much killing.

Linden wanted more vitrim vitrim. Without it, she feared that the needs of the Giants would outlast her. And she had not yet done anything for Stave or Mahrtiir. Or for the Humbled.

An end I must have- Ragged with strain, Branl answered Covenant, "We deemed the preservation of your life paramount, ur-Lord. In this, we concur with Linden Avery. You are necessary. We saw no cause to endanger your life in combat."

"Then why," demanded Covenant, "didn't you at least take Jeremiah somewhere safe?" But before the Masters could reply, he snapped, "No, don't tell me. I already know. You were waiting for an excuse to kill the croyel croyel. So you or Linden or somebody somebody could use the could use the krill krill."

A weapon which had enabled her to rouse the Worm.

Like an act of self-flagellation, Branl said, "Yet Galt was swayed by Stave, as he was by Linden Avery."

Covenant did not relent. "Some of this is still your doing." He may have meant the battle, or Galt's death, or the company's mult.i.tude of wounds. "For once in your lives, I want you to accept the consequences."

Now Clyme spoke. His voice sounded weaker than Branl's; closer to prostration. Bitter with blood loss and old indignation, the outcome of a humiliation which his people had never forgotten, he asked, "When have the Haruchai Haruchai ever declined the cost of their deeds?" ever declined the cost of their deeds?"

"I'm not talking about your d.a.m.n deeds deeds," Covenant snarled. "I'm talking about being mortal mortal. About not being equal to all things. This is what you get. You're both too badly hurt. Now you're going to let Linden heal you. That's That's the consequence you have to accept. If you don't, I am going to by G.o.d the consequence you have to accept. If you don't, I am going to by G.o.d leave you behind leave you behind."

The Humbled or the Manethrall may have offered an objection too soft to reach the crest. In a harsh growl, Covenant responded, "It won't be as hard as you think. I'll just tell the Ranyhyn not to let you ride. You can't possibly believe they won't do it. They reared reared to me, for G.o.d's sake!" to me, for G.o.d's sake!"

Linden drew strength from his misplaced wrath. In another time and place, she had learned to love his anger. She knew what it meant. It was recognition and compa.s.sion disguised as accusation. And he had come back, for the Land if not for her and Jeremiah. If he fell again, he would find a way to return.

She owed her life to the Haruchai Haruchai. Because Covenant insisted upon it, Clyme and Branl would swallow enough of their pride to let her repay a portion of her long debt.

When she had staunched Kindwind's bleeding, and had extinguished the last taint of infection, she did not take the time to seek sustenance from the Demondim-sp.a.w.n. Turning to Cabledarm's injuries, and Latebirth's, she found that she could answer Esmer.

"All right." She spoke without interrupting her ministrations. "I accept that. Bringing the ur-viles here wasn't just a way to balance the scales. They were a gift. You saved Jeremiah, even if you didn't do it yourself. You made it possible."

On her own, she had failed terribly. And she had seen the price that Esmer paid for his one true choice.

Remembering that she had denied Elena, she added, "As far as I'm concerned, what you've accomplished is practically a miracle. Maybe it's enough to compensate for everything else."

Esmer's face twisted: he may have been smiling. "Then grant me an end, Wildwielder."

In spite of her determination to continue healing, Linden nearly froze. "How?" With one sentence, Esmer restored her despair. "You can't-" Liand and Anele were dead. Stave's son was dead. She had killed-"You can't expect-"

"The krill krill of the High Lord lies there." Esmer tilted his head toward Jeremiah. "It will suffice to slay me. You need only pierce my heart, and I will find peace." of the High Lord lies there." Esmer tilted his head toward Jeremiah. "It will suffice to slay me. You need only pierce my heart, and I will find peace."

Joan's intensity no longer pulsed in the gem. Nevertheless the jewel still shone, responding to the distant theurgy of her ring.

"d.a.m.n it, Esmer!" Linden cursed so that she would not wail. Earthpower slipped from her grasp. She almost dropped her Staff. "You can't ask me to just it, Esmer!" Linden cursed so that she would not wail. Earthpower slipped from her grasp. She almost dropped her Staff. "You can't ask me to just murder murder you!" you!"

Not after she had committed such slaughter- Among themselves, the ur-viles and Waynhim chittered incomprehensibly.

Esmer's eyes oozed like his sores. "Then I must remain as I am, a husk of life, until the Worm devours me."

That, Linden wanted to protest, is not my problem! Too many other injuries ached for her care. All of her companions-She should have simply turned her back on Cail's son.

But she could not. She had butchered thousands of living creatures. He was the only one who actually needed death.

"Linden Giantfriend-" the Ironhand began like a groan. Then she stopped, unable to find words.

Suddenly Stave lifted Galt's body aside. When he had settled his son gently on the stained ground, he rose to his feet and picked up Loric's krill krill. Then he strode toward Esmer.

Without a flicker of hesitation or doubt, he drove the dagger into Esmer's back.

Stave!

For an instant, joy broke across Esmer's tormented features. He had time to lift his eyes to the heavens in grat.i.tude. A heartbeat later, he vanished like dispelled smoke, leaving no sign that he had ever existed except manacles: the symbol and resolution of his compelled nature. If any hint of his spirit lingered in the air, Linden could not sense it.

As one, the ur-viles and Waynhim raised a tumult of barking. As one, they fell silent again.

With an air of scorn or disgust, Stave dropped the knife. His gaze met Linden's consternation squarely.

"It is not murder," he p.r.o.nounced, as rigid as any of his kindred. "It is mercy."

When he had shown her that he was prepared to accept her reaction, whatever it might be, he turned away.

For a moment, the manacles lay where they had fallen in the mire of drying blood and gypsum. Then they began to corrode. The purpose for which they had been forged was done. Now the effects of millennia seemed to dissolve the black iron. While Linden watched, the last makings of the ur-viles slumped into rust and crumbled. Soon they were just one more blot on the ruined whiteness of the ridge.

She wished that she, too, could sag into flakes of rust. She yearned to be done-But she was supposed to be a healer, and she had already permitted Liand's death. She had failed her son. In Andelain, she had refused simple kindness to Covenant's woe-ridden daughter. On this ridge, she had torn apart more Cavewights than she knew how to count. The legacies of her parents were wrapped like cerements around her soul.

She could not pretend that she was done.

And Stave had spared her a burden. His mercy was for her as much as for Esmer.

She understood his disgust.

Scornful of herself, and grieving, Linden Avery recalled black flames from her Staff and resumed her tasks.

Stave would need her soon. So would Mahrtiir, if to a lesser extent. But the Swordmainnir came first for the sufficient reason that they were closer.

She had treated all but the most superficial of Frostheart Grueburn's wounds, and was working deep within Halewhole Bluntfist's hacked frame, when Covenant arrived on the ridgecrest, trailing the Humbled and the Ramen behind him like a cortege.

The force of his appearance jolted her to a halt. Her mouth was suddenly dry: the air felt too thick with carnage to breathe. Struggling to remember that she had once been a physician, she had forgotten how much he meant to her-and how much she feared his repudiation.

Apart from the Cords, she was the only member of the company who did not wear the stains of her actions. Even Jeremiah had been splashed by Galt's blood, and by Liand's. How could Covenant look at her without feeling sickened?

Yet her relief that he was unharmed pushed that concern aside. And when he met her gaze, she saw that his wrath was gone. He had expended it on the Humbled. Now he looked ashamed, as though he had failed her and everyone with her. His eyes held a kind of moral nausea, but it was not directed at her. Emphasized by the pure silver of his hair, the scar on his forehead suggested an instinct for self-blame that had grown pale with time, but had never entirely healed.

In that, he resembled her. The difference between them was Gallows Howe. It was She Who Must Not Be Named and limitless killing. With the Earth at stake, Thomas Covenant would not have done what she had done. He would have found some other answer.

"I'm sorry," he said thickly, as if he rather than Linden had cause to expect recrimination. "I spent too long in the Arch. I don't have any defenses against wild magic." With one hand, he gestured at the krill. krill. "It's like Joan has me on a string. This time, she brought me back. She wants me where I can be hurt. But before that-" He winced. "Maybe she was holding me down. Or maybe I just don't know how to climb out of what I remember." "It's like Joan has me on a string. This time, she brought me back. She wants me where I can be hurt. But before that-" He winced. "Maybe she was holding me down. Or maybe I just don't know how to climb out of what I remember."

The Swordmainnir studied him gravely. Mahrtiir regarded Covenant through a drying crust of blood. Bhapa considered the killing ground with chagrin. Pahni looked around as if she had become a wasteland; as if the life in her eyes had been slain. For a moment, no one spoke. The Demondim-sp.a.w.n stood motionless, as attentive as a salute.

Then Rime Coldspray found her voice. "Yet you live, Timewarden." She sounded precise in spite of her hurts, like a woman stroking a whetstone along the edges of her glaive. "Nothing more was needed. Linden Giantfriend sufficed."

Covenant scanned the company. Gruffly he replied, "I can see that. I would have thought all this"-with a jerk of his head, he indicated the battleground-"was impossible. Kastenessen and Roger and poor Joan and even Lord Foul must be tearing their hair right now."

With that simple statement, he seemed to honor a victory that appalled Linden.

Then he shook himself, ran the stubs of his fingers through his hair, frowned ruefully. "Unfortunately we can't afford to wait here for another attack." To the loremaster, he said, "I hope you'll stick around, at least for a while. You've already saved"-he spread his hands-"practically everything. As much as it could be saved. But Linden needs more vitrim vitrim. We all do. And we have questions you might at least try to answer."

The loremaster merely nodded. After a moment, Waynhim began to move through the company again, offering their iron cups.

Hoping that she would someday be able to draw at least one clean breath, Linden accepted a cup. Instead of drinking, however, she continued to watch Covenant's every movement, clutch at every word. He was right: she required sustenance. She felt so weak that she could barely stand. But she needed something more from him as well. Something more personal than his willingness to accept the crime of carnage.

After a moment, he told her directly, "You have to keep working, Linden. You're still the only one who can do this. When you're done with the Giants, Stave needs you. Mahrtiir needs you. And the Humbled are going to let you treat them." His tone sharpened. "They won't like what happens if they don't."

Sighing, he added, "We're the last. We can't afford to lose anybody else."