Against All Things Ending Part 51

He was doing it again; sacrificing himself to spare the people he cared about most.

Was there no one like her? Truly? She did not believe it. But beyond question there was no one like him.

Perhaps that was why he had turned away from her. She had never been his equal.

Implications of Trust

Among eight Giants who towered over her, and Stave and Mahrtiir, who had never wavered, and Jeremiah, who remained as abandoned as a derelict, Linden Avery stood alone, staring hopelessly at the writhe of the ravine where Thomas Covenant, Branl, and Clyme had ridden out of sight.

If she had been able to look at herself, she would have seen a bedraggled figure, worn and unkempt. Her hair had not known the touch of soap or brush for more days than she could count. After her attempts to wash it, it had dried into matted, impossible tangles. Her features had been eroded by care and loss until they resembled Covenant's flensed countenance, but without his indomitable strictures. And the red of her shirt had lost much of its vividness, its clarity. The flannel was a mess of plucked threads and little rents dominated by the bullet hole over her heart. The swatch of fabric which she had torn from the hem for the Mahdoubt no longer seemed to have any significance: it merely made her look even more like a refugee from a better life. The gra.s.s stains on her jeans below the knees were as indecipherable as Caerroil Wildwood's runes.

And the Staff of Law, stained to fuligin when its shaft should have been as clean as the One Tree's heartwood-Its import lies beyond my ken. Even her use of its flame had become darkness, echoing the condition of her soul: stark and irredeemable.

Covenant's departure was an open wound. Without his ring, he had no defense against caesures caesures and chaos. He could not even control the seduction of his broken memories. And Joan and chaos. He could not even control the seduction of his broken memories. And Joan knew knew him: she-or him: she-or turiya turiya Raver-could sense his touch on Loric's Raver-could sense his touch on Loric's krill krill. Linden urgently wished to believe that he was not riding to his death; but that hope eluded her.

His abandonment left her with nothing to shield her. In spite of his vulnerabilities, she had counted on him in ways that were too profound for language. Yet he considered his ex-wife more important, or more urgent. It's like Joan has me on a string It's like Joan has me on a string. I can't do anything else until I deal with her I can't do anything else until I deal with her.

He had told Linden, You have other things to do You have other things to do, but she could not imagine what they might be.

Because Jeremiah was all that endured of the loves which had shaped her life, she dropped the Staff and went to him. With both arms, she hugged him hard, trying to anchor herself on the form that she had nurtured and tended for so many years. He was only a husk of the young man he should have been; an empty hull. But he had always been like this: his vacancy did not diminish his hold on her. And now she knew how he had concealed himself. She had stood in the graveyard of his mind. In some sense, she understood how he had resisted the croyel croyel's torments, and the Despiser's.

But she did not not understand why Anele's gift of Earthpower had failed to rouse her son. That mystery surpa.s.sed her. The vigor of his new theurgies was clear to every dimension of her health-sense. It should have sufficed-yet it was not enough. understand why Anele's gift of Earthpower had failed to rouse her son. That mystery surpa.s.sed her. The vigor of his new theurgies was clear to every dimension of her health-sense. It should have sufficed-yet it was not enough.

While Linden clung to her son, Rime Coldspray cleared her throat. "Linden Giantfriend." Her voice was husky with weariness. A little food and a sufficiency of water could not replenish her spent strength. Nevertheless she sounded grimly determined. "The day flees from us. Soon the sun will near the rim of Landsdrop, and still we stand in this harm-ridden region. We must not delay longer. The Worm of the World's End will not await our readiness to meet it."

Linden tightened her grip on Jeremiah for a moment. Then she let him go. The Ironhand was right. The sunlight slanted from the west, casting shadows like omens after Covenant. The fact that the Worm seemed like an abstraction, a mere word rather than an imminent threat, did not lessen its significance. Turning away from her son, Linden faced the leader of the Swordmainnir.

As if for the first time, she saw how deeply exertion had chiseled Coldspray's visage. The Ironhand bore the marks of strain and imponderable effort like galls on her forehead, around her eyes, along the sides of her mouth. Faint tremors shook her muscles whenever she moved.

Apart from his bandage, Manethrall Mahrtiir's features reflected Coldspray's. His posture slumped uncharacteristically: he carried himself like a man who had cut off his hands by sending his Cords away. Of the three who had labored to honor Anele and Galt, only Stave showed no sign that he had paid a price. His hurts were internal, masked by his Haruchai Haruchai mien and his stoicism. mien and his stoicism.

Fortunately the other Giants had recovered more fully. They had fought as hard as Rime Coldspray; had suffered as much from their wounds. And the healing which Linden had provided for them had been as swift as cruelty: it had its own cost. Latebirth still moved gingerly, protecting her ribs. Both Cabledarm and Frostheart Grueburn were limping, and Onyx Stonemage looked unsure of her balance. Nevertheless they had rested longer, and eaten more, than their Ironhand. They looked ready to wear their armor and carry supplies and travel, at least for a while.

For that Linden could be grateful.

"All right," she sighed to Coldspray. "I'm sick of this place anyway. But there's still the question of where we're going, or what we think that we can do when we get there." Bitterly she added, "a.s.suming that no one attacks us on the way.

"Covenant-" She swallowed bile and grief. "Abandoning us like that. It changes things." It changed everything. "Maybe we should rethink this whole situation."

Rime Coldspray opened her mouth to reply; but Mahrtiir spoke first. "Ringthane." Fatigue thickened his voice until he seemed to be groaning. "Ere we consider such matters, will you not make some new attempt to bestir your son?" Without his Cords, he was a different man: smaller in some way; perhaps more fragile. Time and again, he had relied on Bhapa and Pahni to compensate for his blindness. "As he is, he remains helpless. And much has been altered since you last strove to retrieve his mind. Can you not now discover some means to restore him to himself?"

Linden shook her head; but she did not respond at once. She had to search for words to describe perceptions which had become plain to her. How often do I have to talk about trust? How often do I have to talk about trust? She had made too many mistakes. Worse, she had made the same ones too often. She needed to believe that better solutions existed; but she did not know how. She had made too many mistakes. Worse, she had made the same ones too often. She needed to believe that better solutions existed; but she did not know how.

With an effort of will, she forced herself to say, "He isn't helpless in there. Not really. He's like Anele. He chose chose this. It's his only defense. Or it was. That deserves some respect. I can't think of any other way that he could have protected himself. this. It's his only defense. Or it was. That deserves some respect. I can't think of any other way that he could have protected himself.

"So maybe he's stuck there now," she conceded to forestall protests. "He's been like this for a long time. Maybe he wants to come out and just can't find the way. But I can't help him unless I go deeper than I did before." Much deeper: deep enough to drag him from his graves. "I'll have to possess possess him. And that's just wrong. The Ranyhyn warned me. They showed me how bad things can get if I insist on violating people who have the right to make their own decisions." him. And that's just wrong. The Ranyhyn warned me. They showed me how bad things can get if I insist on violating people who have the right to make their own decisions."

More than once, in differing ways, Anele had opposed her impulse to heal him. Before the horserite, Stave had done the same in spite of the injuries that he had received from Esmer.

"I used to be a doctor. A healer for people with broken minds. And the one thing I learned is that I couldn't couldn't heal them." G.o.d, this was hard to admit! She had learned to accept the truth where her patients were concerned. But to say the same about her own son-"They had to heal themselves. My only real job was to help them feel safe so that maybe they would believe that they could risk healing themselves. heal them." G.o.d, this was hard to admit! She had learned to accept the truth where her patients were concerned. But to say the same about her own son-"They had to heal themselves. My only real job was to help them feel safe so that maybe they would believe that they could risk healing themselves.

"I'm not much of a healer anymore." She had committed such slaughter-"But possession possession is still wrong. I know because it's been done to me." By is still wrong. I know because it's been done to me." By moksha moksha Jehannum. "And I've done it myself." To Covenant. "Covenant keeps telling me to trust myself, but that doesn't make much sense." She meant that it was impossible. "Not after what I've accomplished so far. What does make sense to me is trusting the Ranyhyn. Jehannum. "And I've done it myself." To Covenant. "Covenant keeps telling me to trust myself, but that doesn't make much sense." She meant that it was impossible. "Not after what I've accomplished so far. What does make sense to me is trusting the Ranyhyn.

"They went to a lot of trouble to warn me." She did not want to remember the images with which they had filled her thoughts. "I think it's time that I stopped ignoring them."

Attempts must be made, Mahrtiir had told her days ago, even when there can be no hope even when there can be no hope. But he had also said, And betimes some wonder is wrought to redeem us And betimes some wonder is wrought to redeem us.

She antic.i.p.ated objections. How could her companions grasp what she was trying to say? None of them had been taken by Ravers, or had partic.i.p.ated in Joan's lurid agony, or had become carrion. But Coldspray's only reply was a frown of consideration. None of the other Giants offered an argument. Stave regarded Linden impa.s.sively; accepted her. And Mahrtiir- The Manethrall relaxed visibly. She had eased some unspoken doubt or burden for him. His shoulders lifted as he announced, "Then I see no cause to alter our intent. Earlier we resolved to entrust our course to the will of the Ranyhyn. That choice I have approved. I do so again. Few as we are, we can select no better path. Let Stave of the Haruchai Haruchai summon the great horses. Let us renew our intent to abide by their guidance." summon the great horses. Let us renew our intent to abide by their guidance."

His counsel was a gift. Linden did not want to make more decisions. And in one respect, she was like the Ramen. The prospect of the Ranyhyn eased her spirits. She could find a kind of solace, comfort as visceral as a caress, in the kindness of Hyn's eyes, the security of the mare's strong strides.

Briefly the Ironhand considered Mahrtiir's advice. For a moment, she scanned the reactions of her comrades. When she returned her attention to the Manethrall, and to Linden, her countenance opened into a broad grin.

"Manethrall, your words are folly. By some measure, they are madness. For that reason, they are a delight to us. Are we not Giants? Fools all? And do we not desire to cast our strength against the utter ravage of the Earth? What fate, therefore, can be more condign for us, than that we must commit every pa.s.sion and every life to the will of beasts that cannot reveal their purposes? Earlier we a.s.sented to this course because we saw no other. Now we do so because it gladdens our hearts.

"If it should chance that the Earth and Time endure, tales will one day be told of Giants who dared the destruction of all things at the behest-I mean no offense, Manethrall-at the behest of mere horses."

Mahrtiir also was grinning. Unlike Coldspray's, however, and those of the other Giants, his expression had a whetted edge, fierce and eager, like a promise of vindication.

If Roger or Kastenessen, Linden thought, or even Lord Foul had seen the Manethrall at that moment, they might have felt apprehension writhing in their guts.

"All right," she said again. She tried to sound stronger, and may have succeeded. "Let's see how much ground we can cover without getting into trouble." She meant, Without running into another attack. But she also meant, Without asking too much of the Giants. "I'll never be any readier than this."

Nodding to Linden, Mahrtiir, and the Swordmainnir in turn, Stave raised his hand to his mouth and began the ritual summoning which his ancestors had used during the time of the Bloodguard, and of the Council of Lords.

Three whistles, each as piercing as cries; each separated by half a dozen heartbeats. Linden scarcely had time to shake her head in wonder at the inexplicable magic which enabled the horses of Ra to know hours or days or seasons in advance when and where they would be called, and to arrive when they were needed. Then she heard the muted impact of hooves cantering on packed sand.

She should not have been able to hear it at that distance. Perhaps the sound carried simply because the horses were Ranyhyn, majestic and ineffable, as vital as the Land's pulse of Earthpower, and as numinous as the Hills of Andelain. Soon, however, she saw them. Constrained by the litter of boulders and the quirks of the slopes, they came in single-file: first proud Hynyn, roan and magisterial, then Hyn dappled grey with her star like heraldry on her forehead, then Narunal, palomino and eager-as eager as Mahrtiir, with the same air of fierceness. Just for an instant, Linden thought that there would be no more. But another Ranyhyn followed behind Narunal, another roan, as like to Hynyn as a son, but less heavily muscled, less broad in the chest, and somewhat smaller.

Hynyn, Hyn, and Narunal: Stave, Linden, and Mahrtiir. The last of the ten that had set out from Revelstone with the begrudged permission of the Masters.

And a mount for Jeremiah.

A mount for Jeremiah, who had never ridden and would not throw himself off balance, and could therefore sit his Ranyhyn as safely as if the beast were made of stone.

Linden had watched Naybahn and Mh.o.r.n.ym carry Branl and Clyme away. She believed that she would never see Rhohm, Hrama, and Bhanoryl again: their riders were dead. As for Rohnhyn and Naharahn, Bhapa and Pahni, she did not know what to think. She could hardly believe that they would be able to sway the Masters.

But Jeremiah had a mount! He would be better cared-for aback a Ranyhyn than he would have been in her arms. And maybe-Oh, maybe! The experience of riding might serve to guide or lure him out of his dissociation.

She had seen stranger things during her years at Berenford Memorial. Sometimes a simple touch was enough, if it were the right touch given at the right moment-by the right person.

Her hugs were not the rea.s.surance that Jeremiah needed; or she was not. The knowledge was anguish. Nonetheless she told herself that she could be content with any form of consolation that restored his mind.

In their disparate fashions, Stave and Mahrtiir greeted the approach of the Ranyhyn. As the Giants watched, simultaneously bemused and entranced, the former Master spoke formally of Land-riders and proud-bearers, sun-flesh and sky-mane Land-riders and proud-bearers, sun-flesh and sky-mane. At the same time, the Manethrall prostrated himself, pressing his forehead to the sand in a manner that seemed both self-effacing and exultant.

Clearly none of the horses had run hard or suffered trials: a dramatic contrast to their state when they had been called in Andelain. They must have left the Hills in plenty of time, and known of a comparatively direct descent from the Upper Land.

With his neck imperiously arched, Hynyn stamped to a halt in front of Stave and whinnied like a shout of defiance. Prancing, Hyn moved among the Giants toward Linden. The mare's affection was plain as she nuzzled Linden's shoulder, asking to be petted. Linden complied willingly; but she did not look away from Hyn's companions.

Narunal stopped near Mahrtiir's out-stretched arms and nickered a soft demand. Apparently the stallion was impatient with Mahrtiir's obeisance and wanted him to rise. The fourth horse paused a few paces behind the others. The younger roan's eyes were fixed on Jeremiah, but Linden could not interpret their expression. Was that pride? Antic.i.p.ation? Dread?

When Hynyn whinnied again, Mahrtiir rose to his feet. For a moment, he stroked Narunal's nose and neck, communing in some intuitive fashion with his mount. Then he turned to Linden.

"Ringthane," he p.r.o.nounced distinctly, "here is Khelen, young among the stallions of the herd. Youth to youth, he has come to bear your son-if you will consent. But he requires your consent. He has not yet inherited his sire's pride, and he is cognizant-as are all of the great horses-that he offers to a.s.sume a charge both perilous and exalted. Will you grant him leave to care for your son? He will do so with his life."

Linden could not imagine how the Manethrall knew such things. Nevertheless she believed him. Carefully courteous, she replied, "Please thank Khelen for me. He has my consent."

Mahrtiir answered her with a Ramen bow; but he said nothing. Doubtless he had reason to trust that the Ranyhyn understood her. Instead of relaying her words, he whirled away and sprang onto Narunal's back. Indeed, he seemed to flow into his seat as though he had spent all of his life riding; as though he and his Cords were not the first Ramen to ever sit astride Ranyhyn.

Tentatively Khelen moved a few steps closer to Jeremiah.

"Again with your consent, Linden Giantfriend," said Stormpast Galesend briskly. But she did not wait for Linden's response. Lifting Jeremiah, the Swordmain set him down on Khelen's back.

Hoping, Linden held her breath.

For a long moment, Khelen stood utterly motionless. If the fouled scent of Jeremiah's pajamas disturbed him, the young stallion did not show it. Instead he appeared to be waiting for some reaction from Jeremiah: some flinch of fright or hint of relaxation. But Jeremiah gave no sign of consciousness. His mind was too deeply buried. He sat exactly as he had stood a few heartbeats earlier, slack-lipped and silt-eyed, oblivious to the saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth.

Oh, well, Linden sighed to herself. Maybe when Khelen started to walk-or to run- Finally Khelen tossed his head, made a whickering sound like a query. Hynyn answered with a snort of command; and the younger roan began to move away from the stream, carrying Jeremiah as if the boy were a treasure.

At last, Linden looked away. When she glanced at Stave, he came to boost her onto Hyn's back.

Almost at once, Hyn's familiar ability to communicate ease and stability settled into Linden's muscles, although she had not ridden for days that felt as long as seasons. As Stave mounted Hynyn, Linden nodded to Rime Coldspray, who answered with a grin as wide as Pitchwife's.

"Thus we turn to a new heading," the Ironhand proclaimed, "foolishly, and glad of it. Many have been the vagaries of our journey, and extreme its trials. Each new course has been as unforeseen as the Soulbiter, as unforeseeable-and betimes as reluctant to permit pa.s.sage. Yet never, I deem, have we sailed seas as chartless as those now spread before us.

"Had we the strength for exuberance, we would announce with songs our pleasure that in the Sarga.s.so of the Earth's fate we will be guided by the innominate mystery of these Ranyhyn."

"Aye," a.s.sented Frostheart Grueburn gruffly. "And if we reserve our breath for wheezing, we will trust that joy is in the ears that hear, not in the mouth that does not sing."

Chuckling, Cabledarm shouldered a sack of supplies. In spite of her unsteadiness, Onyx Stonemage took another: the last of the Ardent's foodstuffs and waterskins. Cirrus Kindwind hefted the only bedroll. Then, laughing softly, she tossed it to Stave: a feigned admission that it was too heavy for her. The Haruchai Haruchai caught it as if it were weightless and set it across his thighs. caught it as if it were weightless and set it across his thighs.

"Ringthane?" Mahrtiir asked with something of Hynyn's brazen a.s.surance in his voice.

"Sure," Linden muttered. She was watching Jeremiah again as if her attentiveness might serve to rouse him. "I a.s.sume that you can tell the Ranyhyn what we want." Somehow. "If they refuse, we'll know soon enough."

The Manethrall barked like one of the ur-viles. Then he bent low over Narunal's neck, stroking the stallion as he whispered words in a language that sounded like nickering. Linden thought that she caught Kelenbhraba.n.a.l Kelenbhraba.n.a.l's name, but the rest escaped her.

If the Giants understood, they only grinned, and checked their weapons, and readied themselves to leave the stream.

Narunal responded with a neigh as clarion as Hynyn's. At once, Mahrtiir's mount turned to retrace his path along the floor of the ravine. Without any sign from Stave that Linden could discern, Hynyn followed. And Khelen went next, stepping with such care that Jeremiah was not jostled or disturbed in any way.

Snorting soft rea.s.surances, Hyn took a position behind Khelen. And after them came the eight Swordmainnir led by Rime Coldspray, with Bluntfist in the rear.

Clearly the Ranyhyn had elected to accept at least this much responsibility for the company's role in the Land's fate.

While the ravine twisted westward, and its floor formed a comparatively clear path, the Ranyhyn followed it. But as the company moved beyond the region of battle, beyond the cairns, the hills on both sides began to slump. At intervals now, Linden glimpsed more distant landscapes to the north and south: barren slopes interspersed with swaths of dirt and gravel like long-desiccated swales.

When Narunal and the other Ranyhyn finally turned away from the fading trail of sand onto a broad field of grit and fine dust made hazardous by shards of flint, they surprised Linden by heading into the southeast.

Surely they should be going northwest? Toward Mount Thunder, if not toward Salva Gildenbourne? In that direction, the skurj skurj and the Sandgorgons were laying waste to the forest as they moved to defend Kastenessen. Yet the horses chose the southeast, picking their way warily among flint splinters and knives. and the Sandgorgons were laying waste to the forest as they moved to defend Kastenessen. Yet the horses chose the southeast, picking their way warily among flint splinters and knives.

Were they following Covenant? Linden's heart squirmed at the thought. He had suggested that he intended to look for Joan along the same heading that the Ardent had taken from the Lost Deep: this this heading. Did the Ranyhyn believe that Covenant would need Linden's help when he faced his ex-wife at last? heading. Did the Ranyhyn believe that Covenant would need Linden's help when he faced his ex-wife at last?

If so, she wanted to hurry. She feared losing him to a caesure caesure more than his rejection; his efforts to spare her. more than his rejection; his efforts to spare her.

But the company could not hasten: not yet. The horses had to be careful where they placed their hooves. And the Giants-They plodded doggedly ahead as if they were impervious to sharp stones, raising small puffs of dust with every heavy step; but weariness clogged their strides. They moved like women carrying boulders on their backs.

"Stave?" Linden tried not to raise her voice or sound apprehensive. "Did Covenant go this way? Can you tell?"

Stave said nothing. Instead Mahrtiir answered, "The Ranyhyn have diverged from their path toward us. Yet ahead of us lie the marks of three horses, one shod. I judge that we trail after Naybahn, Mh.o.r.n.ym, and the Harrow's mount.

"Lacking ordinary sight," he admitted, vexed by his limitations, "I am no longer capable of true Ramen scoutcraft. Yet the Timewarden's pa.s.sage with the Humbled is plain here. For the present, his way is ours."

"Can you tell-?" Linden began. She did not know the extent of Mahrtiir's communion with Narunal and the other horses. "Can you tell if we're going to keep on following him?"

"Ringthane, I cannot." His a.s.sertion clearly did not trouble the Manethrall. "The bond between the Ranyhyn and their Ramen is not"-he seemed to search for the right word-"explicit in that fashion. We are the servants of the great horses, nothing more. And the essence of our service is service service. We do not vaunt ourselves by endeavoring to comprehend more than we are given."

"So you don't know what they have in mind?"

"I do not," Mahrtiir stated calmly.

Linden scowled at his back. "Then how do you know that they understand what we're asking them to do?"

"Ringthane." Now the Manethrall's tone revealed an edge of asperity. "That we do not strive to grasp the thoughts of the Ranyhyn does not imply that they cannot grasp ours. How otherwise are we able to serve them, if they cannot comprehend us?

"The Timewarden has spoken of trust. And you have given your a.s.sent. If you now wish to recant, do so. Ask of Hyn what you will. Command Command her according to the dictates of your heart. I will await the outcome with interest." her according to the dictates of your heart. I will await the outcome with interest."

Just for a moment, Linden considered taking the dare. She wanted another chance to be with Covenant. To protect him if she could. To understand why he had turned his back on her.

But then she shook her head; resisted an impulse to slap herself.-spoken of trust. She needed some way to control her accelerating descent into darkness; and she knew from long experience that she could not refuse the logic of despair if she became incapable of trust. Eventually she would succ.u.mb- Days ago, she had urged her companions to doubt her. All well and good, as far as it went. She had doubted herself: therefore she had needed to believe that her friends made their own choices freely. But the ultimate implication of her insistence then was that she she had doubted had doubted them them.

Was that not why Kevin Landwaster had committed the Ritual of Desecration? He had blamed himself for the Land's plight-and had not trusted any other power to accomplish what he could not.

Now Mahrtiir had effectively challenged her to admit the truth about her doubts; and she could not. She had already done too much harm. She no longer had any real choice except to cling to her friends and the Ranyhyn.

In the end, every other alternative would lead her back to She Who Must Not Be Named.

Her silence seemed to satisfy Mahrtiir. He held his head high and his back straight, concentrating ahead of Narunal as he led the company off the flints into a region of shale and sandstone mounded like barrows or the detritus of glaciers.

There the Ranyhyn could have quickened their pace safely. But they did not. Even at a canter, Covenant and the Humbled might be leagues ahead of them by now. Nevertheless Narunal continued to move as if the Ranyhyn had no purpose other than to conserve the stamina of the Giants. As if Linden and her companions had chosen to put their faith in an illusion.

As if the Ranyhyn intended to let her slip deeper into despair.