Against All Things Ending (56 page)

Beyond the company, Jeremiah stood silhouetted by the light of the
krill
as if he and the
croyel
were wrapped in their own gloom. The argent glow illuminated Galt’s face, reflected in his flat gaze, but cast the rest of his form into darkness. Streaks of silver reached across the circle, shifting slightly as Jeremiah breathed, until they found Covenant. There they seemed to ignite his white hair; but they left his eyes in shadow.

As far as Linden could see, the Ardent had left the company in an untenable position. They were too far from their foes. And here, or anywhere, they could do nothing to stop the Worm.

“Well, then,” began the Ironhand abruptly. “A Giantclave tailored to the brevity of humans, and to the stoicism of
Haruchai
. It is an arduous task in all sooth. Yet we must prove worthy of it. Doubtless there are needs and queries nurtured within each of us. How shall we consider them?”

Directly or indirectly, the whole circle seemed to refer Coldspray’s question to Linden. While her friends waited for her, however, Covenant spoke.

“We’re too weak the way we are. Anywhere on the Upper Land, Kevin’s Dirt cramps Linden and her Staff. And as long as there are
caesures
, she can’t afford to risk the ring.” He did not call it his—or hers. “We need power.

“Kastenessen is responsible for Kevin’s Dirt. He gets its force from She Who Must Not Be Named, but it’s his doing. His and Esmer’s and
moksha
Raver’s. We have to do something about him.”

“And about Joan,” Linden put in harshly. She needed to be angry.
Don’t touch me
. Otherwise she could not face him now.

“I know.” Covenant rubbed his cheeks with his foreshortened fingers; ran them through his hair. Dusk cut by slashes of argent emphasized his maimed hands. “And Joan.”

“And Roger,” Linden continued.

“Yes,” Covenant sighed. “My son. I know that, too.”

“Also,” Mahrtiir added, “the Ardent has spoken of Sandgorgons and
skurj
in rampage against treasured Salva Gildenbourne. And it is his word that the first Ringthane’s son has amassed an army of Cavewights.”

“But how may we counter such evils,” asked Liand, “when we are few and weak, and the distance is great? Surely we cannot journey so far before the coming of the Worm? And can we deny that the Ardent has been our great ally? He has kept hidden his reasons for placing us in this region. Yet surely those reasons exist. Do we not dismiss them at our peril?”

Without hesitation, the Manethrall replied, “We need have no fear of distance. The Ranyhyn will answer when they are summoned. And these Giants have demonstrated beyond all question that they can run. The leagues are an obstacle, aye, but they are not our peremptory concern.”

The thought of Hynyn roused an ache in Linden’s chest. Mahrtiir was right. The horses would answer. And Hynyn’s devotion was a poignant argument against the dire images which had filled Linden’s participation in the horserite.

But the help of the Ranyhyn could wait. They had cautioned her—and she had failed to heed them too often.

With iron in her voice, Rime Coldspray was saying, “Our peremptory concern is with the Worm of the World’s End. By that measure, both Kastenessen and Thomas Covenant’s former mate are of small import, as are mere Sandgorgons and
skurj
. And in the matter of the Worm, we must give close consideration to the insights imparted by Anele. Though his madness is evident, there can be no doubt of his gifts.”

Covenant shook his head. But if he had any reservations, he did not express them.

Thinking about the old man, Linden winced. Sprawled on obsidian at one foot of the Hazard, the son of Sunder and Hollian had articulated the mourning of the mountain’s oldest rock.

Even here it is felt
.
Written
.
Lamented
.
The rousing of the Worm
.

“We are Giants,” murmured Cirrus Kindwind, massaging the stump of her forearm, “lovers of both Sea and Stone. We well recall the old man’s words. He spoke of the Worm’s compelled hunger, as necessary as death is to life.”

When it has consumed lesser sustenance, it must come to the Land
.

“Aye,” assented the Ironhand. “And in his revelation lay no scope for uncertainty.”

Here it will discover its final nourishment
.

“I remember,” Covenant muttered darkly. “We all remember. It’s not the kind of thing anybody forgets.”

If it is not forbidden, it will have Earthpower
.
The very blood of life from the most potent and private recesses of the Earth’s heart
. Like the tolling of the world’s last heartbeats, Anele had pronounced its doom.
When the Worm of the World’s End drinks the Blood of the Earth, its puissance will consume the Arch of Time
.

“Well, then,” repeated Coldspray grimly. “If it is remembered, then it lacks only explication. Our comprehension of ‘the Blood of the Earth’ does not suffice. We have no tales of such fell mysteries. And Linden Giantfriend has revealed little more than the skeleton of her sojourn in the Land’s past. Since we must oppose or forbid the Worm, we would know more of its ‘final nourishment.’ ”

Covenant ducked his head. Recalling Roger and Jeremiah under
Melenkurion
Skyweir, Linden felt too much turmoil to answer. None of this was relevant to Jeremiah or the
croyel
. But Stave replied with his usual stoicism.

“Only one
Haruchai
has borne witness to the Blood of the Earth and lived, the Bloodguard Bannor. Thus our awareness of EarthBlood is not limited to the overheard converse of the Lords.”

Linden seemed to see memories of Bannor flit like spectres across Covenant’s darkened gaze. But he did not interrupt Stave.

Characteristically terse, Stave told the Giants what Linden and Covenant—and, indirectly, Liand and the Ramen—already knew. He spoke of Earthpower in its purest and most concentrated form: magic so potent that it conferred the Power of Command. And he described what his people knew of its hazards.

“Therefore High Lord Damelon Giantfriend deemed it too perilous for any use. Such absolute might exceeds mortal conception. Any Command outruns both foresight and control. It may prove ruinous to the one who utters it.”

“In sum,” growled the Ironhand, “you deem that we must not seek out this EarthBlood and Command the Worm to resume its slumber.”

Stave shrugged. “If Earthpower is the Worm’s food, then the Worm is itself Earthpower. Can Earthpower suppress Earthpower? Will you Command the cessation of all life and death?”

For a long moment, the company was silent. Linden felt distress skirling among her companions, sensed their thwarted desire for comprehension. They needed to know what to
do
. None of them were people who could remain passive in the face of calamity. But they had no outlet for their passion and resolve.

And Linden could not guide them. She could speak only for herself—and she had already chosen her immediate path.

When no one else responded to Stave’s challenge, Liand ventured hesitantly, “Mayhap the insight we require lies elsewhere in Anele’s utterance. Did he not state that the Worm will bring destruction ‘If it is not opposed by the forgotten truth of stone and wood—’? What is this truth?”

Covenant’s reply was a grimace. “Beats the hell out of me. If I ever knew, it’s gone now. There’s just too much. I’ve lost most of it. And every time I come back, I lose more.”

Sternly Mahrtiir said, “Yet other aspects of Anele’s pronouncement invite consideration as well. He did not speak only of ‘forgotten truth’ and EarthBlood. He also urged ‘forbidding.’ ”

“The Forestals knew how to do that,” Covenant admitted. “They made the Colossus of the Fall. The Interdict against the Ravers. But it failed eventually.” His frown kept his eyes hidden from the
krill
. Only his transubstantiated hair held the light. Over the centuries, the Colossus itself had crumbled. “Too many trees were slaughtered. Every one that fell made the Forestals weaker.

“And that brings us back to power. Even Berek wasn’t strong enough to do what they did. Before Kevin’s Lore was lost, the Lords used what they called a Word of Warning. But their version of forbidding was trivial compared to the Colossus.”

All vastness is forgotten
.

“If the knowledge endures among the Insequent,” Stave stated with a hint of grimness, “the Ardent did not speak of it.”

Frostheart Grueburn lifted her head. “Doubtless the
Elohim
possess that which we lack.”

“And you expect them to answer?” countered Covenant. “If you can think of a way to ask them?” He shook his head. “They’re too busy running for their lives. They probably won’t even notice us unless we do something that scares them worse than the Worm—”

He left the obvious futility of the idea hanging. According to the tales that Linden had heard in various forms, the Forestals had created their Interdict by imprisoning an
Elohim
within the Colossus. Now, she felt sure, Infelice’s people were done with self-sacrifice. They were already dying.

“Then,” Rime Coldspray said like a growl, “since we have named the
Elohim
, I will add one more to our litany of concerns.

“The Swordmainnir do not forget Lostson Longwrath, who remains abroad in the Land, driven by purposes which we do not comprehend. With the resurrection of Thomas Covenant, the
geas
inflicted upon him by the
Elohim
has been thwarted. Has he now been released? Does rage still compel him to insanity and murder? We are Giants, and his people. We cannot forget him.”

Longwrath had tried to kill Linden. More than once. But what could the
Elohim
possibly gain by her death now?

A moment later, Manethrall Mahrtiir rose to his feet. Impatiently he stepped into the circle. Through his teeth, he said, “This accounting of perils accomplishes naught. At one time, a measure of guidance was proffered to us. In the absence of other counsel, we must rely upon it. Will you speak of
that
, Timewarden?”

Covenant flinched. “What do you mean?”

Linden winced as well. She knew what was coming.

“On the plateau of Lord’s Keep,” Mahrtiir stated, “you addressed those of us who are the Ringthane’s first companions. In Anele’s voice, you delivered prophecies and counsel. We have forgotten none of your words, yet their import eludes us.

“Will you shed some light upon them now, that we may see our paths before us?”

Again Covenant scrubbed his unfeeling hands over his face as if to remind himself that his palms and the remains of his fingers still existed. Briefly he avoided the Manethrall’s bandaged scrutiny. Then he raised his head, met the stare of Mahrtiir’s empty eye sockets. Compassion or regret blurred his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember. And I’m afraid to try. Sometimes digging into the past makes me slip. When that happens, I don’t know how to bring myself back.”

At once, the Manethrall retorted, “
Amanibhavam
will restore you.”

“Sure,” Covenant answered like a curse. “And whenever you do something like that, another piece of what I’m trying to remember disappears. Permanently, as far as I can tell. Then there’s less of me, and I can’t recover what I was.”

He appeared to bear the attention of the company as long as he could. Then he punched his fists against each other.

“See?” he snapped. “
This
is why I shouldn’t have said anything while I was still part of the Arch. It’s why I didn’t say anything until I was brought back to life. It makes you look at me like you think I know what to do.

“But I’m
human
now. As fallible as anybody. And I haven’t lived—” He groaned in frustration or protest. “I haven’t experienced the same things you have. I haven’t learned what you’ve learned. Just watching it happen doesn’t teach the same lessons.

“Hellfire and bloody damnation!” he cried suddenly. “Have we been through all this”—the reach of his arms seemed to imply the world—“without convincing you unearned knowledge is
dangerous
?”

He glared around the circle, defying anyone to contradict him. When no one replied, he continued in a low voice like the rasp of a file, “Even if I remembered absolutely everything, I couldn’t make your decisions for you. And I couldn’t explain things. I’m not qualified because I haven’t lived through it. Until you figured it out for yourselves—whatever it is—the only thing I could possibly do is mislead you.

“I
need
to be a leper. I
need
my mind the way it is. I don’t have any other defenses.”

Don’t touch me
.
I’m afraid of what I’m becoming
.

While Linden twisted her hands together and chewed her lower lip, the Ironhand let the silence of the company accumulate until it seemed as dense as the advancing twilight. Then she pronounced as if she were settling an argument, “We are Giants, acquainted with the hazards of unearned knowledge. And if we were not, Linden Giantfriend’s fleshless tale is rife with admonishments.

“In one matter, the Manethrall has spoken sooth. Belaboring our many ignorances, we achieve naught. The time has come for trust, both in ourselves and in her whose heart has piloted us to our present Sargasso.

“Linden Giantfriend, we will gladly hear any word that you choose to offer.”

As one, Linden’s companions turned toward her as though she had the authority of an oracle.

She wanted to hide her face. More than that, she wanted to cry out, What makes you think
I
have the answer? Do you
like
what I’ve accomplished so far? But such plaints were as useless as self-pity. And she had long ago surrendered her right to shrug decisions and consequences aside. From the Verge of Wandering to Andelain, she had persuaded or coerced her friends to follow her. She could not pretend now that she had not already determined her own path.