Against All Things Ending (47 page)

Above him, Stave, Clyme, and Branl stood with their backs to the gully, facing Landsdrop and the more distant vistas of Sarangrave Flat. They may have wished to grant Covenant the illusion of privacy. Guiding Jeremiah by the shoulder, Galt turned the boy and the
croyel
away so that Covenant would not be distracted by Jeremiah’s emptiness and the creature’s malevolence.

Apparently the Humbled and the former Master understood what Covenant was trying to do.

“Linden,” he went on, “I think you can hear me.” He kept his voice low to mask his sorrow and regret. “I think that because you’re like Jeremiah right now, and
he
can hear me. The
croyel
isn’t the only one listening. But that’s not all. I think he’s
always
heard you. Nothing you ever said to him was wasted.

“That’s one reason I believe he doesn’t serve Lord Foul. He’s been listening to you. You gave him a life that wasn’t all pain. It was also years of your care and devotion. You showed him he wasn’t alone even though he couldn’t tell you he was listening.

“Sure, Lord Foul got to him first. The Despiser marked him in that bonfire. But Jeremiah is like all the rest of us. He’s more than the sum of his hurts. One damaged hand doesn’t make him anybody’s property. And after that, you claimed him. You claimed him in the only way that matters, by loving him the whole time. Whatever Lord Foul has done to him since is too late. I believe that. Someday you’ll believe it, too. You’ve already taught him the difference between love and Despite.”

Some of the Giants slept restlessly, fighting old battles in their dreams, or fleeing beyond exhaustion in the deep places of the world. Rime Coldspray snorted defiance or desperation softly through her teeth. Cirrus Kindwind clutched the stump of her severed arm until her knuckles whitened and the thews stood out on her hand. But none of the Swordmainnir seemed likely to awaken.

“And since then—” Covenant tried to speak more strongly, and found that he could not. His throat was too dry, and lamentations filled his chest. “Hellfire, Linden. When I told you to do something they don’t expect, I didn’t know you were going to surprise me so often.”

He did not want her to hear his grief. She would hold herself accountable for it.

“It’s quite a list, the things you’ve accomplished that should have been impossible. I don’t know if you realize just what you’ve done, or how hard it was, or how many different forces were trying to stop you. I could start with escaping Mithil Stonedown and the
kresh
to find the Ramen, or risking a
caesure
to look for your Staff, or finding a way to bring the Demondim with you when you escaped the past.” He could have started with the imponderable use of wild magic by which she had saved herself and Anele from the collapse of Kevin’s Watch; but he no longer knew how she had achieved that feat. “But you won’t take credit for any of that. You’ll say you didn’t do it on your own, you had help, you couldn’t have done it alone.

“Well, I’m not going to argue with you. Of course you had help. We’ve all had help. It doesn’t diminish what you’ve done.”

The rising sun had reached her face. Her head rested against his chest in a way that allowed the light to strike her troubled eyes, although their lids were closed and clenched. Hoping to ease her, he cupped one hand to provide a patch of shade.

“But think about it, Linden. We only have Jeremiah now because you broke the construct hiding him. Nobody helped you with that. Nobody else could have saved Liand,” whose fate seemed to thicken around him as he slept. “And I only have hands I can still use because you healed them. For that alone, I’m so grateful I don’t know how to contain it.”

Everything that he required of himself while life remained in his body depended on his ability to grip and hold.

Gradually a low breeze began to blow, drawn by the warmed cliff of Landsdrop. It cooled the mounting pressure of the sun; but it could not ease his thirst. His voice had become an effortful scrape of sound. His tongue felt stupid in his mouth, and sand seemed to clog his attempts to swallow.

“But you didn’t stop there. You’re the reason we survived She Who Must Not Be Named.”

With his peripheral vision, he saw that Stave had turned to study him. The Humbled had set aside the pretense that they were not listening.

They wanted to know what he meant.

He was thinking of Elena, agonized and frantic. She was his daughter by rape; and he had not stopped her from drinking the Blood of the Earth, even though he had suspected that her intentions were distorted or dangerous. Now her pain had been consumed by the bane’s larger and more rabid torment—

—because Linden had not granted her the compassion which Kevin Landwaster had received from his forefathers.

He wanted to tell Linden that she had done the right thing.—
something they don’t expect
. Something no one could have expected. In effect, she had rubbed salt in Elena’s wounds. She had left Elena’s anguish so fresh and naked that She Who Must Not Be Named had been unable to ignore it.

He wanted to say that sometimes good came from cruel means.

But he could not. The words hurt too much. And they would not help Linden forgive herself. Certainly they did not ease his own remorse.

Yet he believed that they were important. Saying that good could not be accomplished by evil means implied a definition of evil which excluded Linden’s particular desperation.

Nevertheless he did not speak of Elena. He did not wish the
Haruchai
to hear him. They would judge him as well as Linden in the same way that they judged themselves. Instead he murmured, faltering, “You’ve saved us in more ways than I can count. None of us would still be alive without you.”

Then he was finished. He had nothing more to say, and very little strength. She would wake, or she would not. Either way, the choice was hers.

Lifting his head, he saw Stave nod before resuming his watch on the horizons. Perhaps the former Master approved. Or perhaps his nod merely acknowledged that Covenant had tried.

L
ater Covenant asked Stave to help him move Linden back into the shade of the boulder. He was too weak to shift her gently by himself. As Stave complied, however, the former Master remarked that the Manethrall’s Cords were returning.

“They appear stronger. I deem that they have found water.”

Covenant did not know how much longer he could wait. Like his concern for Linden, his thirst had become a kind of fever, so hot that it parched his thoughts.

Muttering to himself, he moved as far into the boulder’s shade as he could while Stave lifted Linden. Then he accepted her again, settled her against his chest.

Through the haze in his eyes, he saw the Cords approaching, accompanied now by their Manethrall. Pahni and Bhapa had been gone for what felt like a long time. They must have walked far. He could not imagine where he, or the Ardent, or even the Giants would find the stamina to do the same.

While Covenant tried to believe that he was capable of walking at all, Clyme said brusquely, “Stave.”

With a small shrug for the affront of being commanded aloud, Stave returned to the rim of the watercourse. At the same time, Clyme and Branl leapt down to greet the Ramen. As soon as the Cords announced their success, Clyme said, “If it can be done, this company must be spared further exertion. We will endeavor to bring water here.”

“We have no vessels,” Mahrtiir observed.

“And we have seen no
aliantha
,” added Bhapa.

Clyme ignored the Cord. “We will contrive a means,” he told Mahrtiir. With one hand, he gestured at Anele sleeping cupped in Galesend’s cataphract. “Shaped as it is, the armor of the Giants will serve. We need only rouse one of the Swordmainnir.”

“It is stone,” the Manethrall objected. “Its weight alone—”

Branl cut him off. “We do not ask this of you, Manethrall. We will bear the burden. Stave will stand watch in our stead.”

Mahrtiir hesitated for a moment, as if he doubted even the great strength of the
Haruchai
. Then he nodded. “Cord Bhapa and I will accompany you. When Cord Pahni has bestirred the Ironhand, she will join her wariness to Stave’s.”

Pahni obeyed promptly. Casting a worried glance at Liand, she knelt beside Rime Coldspray. From a small pouch at her waist, she took a little
amanibhavam
. After rubbing the dried leaves between her fingers, she held them to Coldspray’s nose.

Covenant had once eaten raw
amanibhavam
: an act of madness which may nonetheless have saved his life.

Coldspray snorted at the smell, twisted away as though it stung her nostrils. A moment later, she raised her head, blinking at the film of fatigue and thirst in her eyes.

Satisfied, Pahni climbed out of the gully toward Stave.

“Ironhand,” Clyme stated, “we require your armor to carry water.”

Coldspray regarded him with an air of stupefaction. Briefly she struggled to understand him. Then she managed a nod. Fumbling, she undid the bindings of her cataphract. When that was done, she rolled across the sand until she left the breastplate and back of her armor behind.

Freed from the heavy stone, she labored unsteadily to her feet and watched as Clyme and Branl each stooped to lift half of her cataphract. Seeing that they were equal to the task, she took a small stone flask—
diamondraught
—from a slot or notch in her breastplate and drank the last of its contents: a few drops. Then she tucked the flask under her belt and stumbled toward Frostheart Grueburn. Without making any effort to wake her comrade, she knelt to release the clasps of Grueburn’s armor.

By increments, she succeeded at rolling Grueburn to one side.

Grueburn opened her eyes, peered at Coldspray. A frown knotted her features as she fought to moisten her mouth. “Ironhand,” she rasped painfully. “What—?”

“Rest if you must,” Coldspray replied, hoarse with thirst. “If you are able to do so, arise and aid me. We must make use of your cataphract as basins for water.”

Grueburn shook her head, staring dully. “Able?” she croaked. “Have I not named myself the mightiest of the Swordmainnir? If you are indeed able to carry water, surely I can do no less.”

Goading herself with Giantish curses, Frostheart Grueburn began to climb upright. When she had found a measure of balance, she, too, retrieved her flask and poured her last drops of
diamondraught
into her mouth.

Covenant saw their heavy muscles tremble as Coldspray and Grueburn picked up Grueburn’s armor; and he almost slipped. Images tugged at him: Saltheart Foamfollower bearing him into the unendurable magma of Hotash Slay; Grimmand Honninscrave straining to contain
samadhi
Sheol. His memories spanned too much time. And he had too many lives on his conscience. Linden’s destitution against his chest was only one burden among a clamoring host.

“Hang on,” he murmured, speaking to himself as much as to her. “It won’t be long now. We’ll have water soon.”

Somehow the Ironhand and Grueburn stood in spite of stone and exhaustion. They looked weaker than Branl and Clyme, but they managed to support the shaped rock of Grueburn’s cataphract.

“Now,” Coldspray panted to Mahrtiir. “Ere this tattered mimicry of vigor fails us.”

The Manethrall turned quickly toward Covenant; bowed like a promise. Then he wheeled away. Guided by Bhapa, he led Clyme and Branl, Coldspray and Grueburn away along the gully. Both Swordmainnir tottered as though they were about to fall; but they did not. From some deep reserve of indomitability, they drew the resolve to stay on their feet and walk.

Covenant watched them go with a pang in his heart, as if he had failed them—although he could not have said how. His sense of disappointment in himself seemed to have no name.

He had certainly failed Linden.

For a time, he forgot to stroke her hair. His shoulders slumped, resting his incomplete hands on the sand. Like his memories, their stiffness threatened to drag him into the fissures of the past. But then he muttered, “Hellfire,” and forced himself to lift his arms again.

The sensations of touching her were denied to him. Only the repetitive gentleness of caresses comforted him. But he knew how badly he had hurt her, both by his silence among the Dead and by his recurring absences. He knew that he would surely hurt her again. And he knew what he had done to Elena. He did not seek solace for himself.

Other people needed consolation more than he did.