One Tree (53 page)

Vain stood nearby: the iconography of the ur-viles in human form. His lips wore a black grin of relish. But Covenant had no time to spend on the Demondim-spawn. How quickly would Kasreyn be able to rally the defenses of the Sandhold? He thrust past Vain toward his friends.

The First murmured his name in a limping voice. She appeared hardly able to support the weight of her reprieve. At her side, Pitchwife shed tears unabashedly and faded in and out of laughter. The severe bruise at his temple seemed to damage his emotional balance. Honninscrave stood with a broken chain dangling from his free arm and blood dripping from his wrists; but his face was clenched around the new hope Covenant had given him.

From the other walls,
Haruchai
eyes reflected the white gold like pride. They looked as extravagant as the Vow which had bound the Bloodguard to the Lords beyond death and sleep. Even Ceer’s orbs shone, though behind the reflections lay a pain so acute that even Covenant’s superficial sight could read it. Red fluid oozed from the bandages around his knee.

Seadreamer seemed unaware of Covenant. The mute Giant’s gaze was glazed and inward. His manacled hands strained toward his head as if he ached to cover his face. But at least he showed no physical hurt.

Then Covenant saw Linden.

She staggered him. She hung from her rigid fetters as if both her arms had been broken. Her head had slumped forward; her wheaten hair veiled her face and chest. Covenant could not tell if she were breathing, if he had hurt or killed her in his struggle with Nom.

Findail had been murmuring almost continuously. “Praise the Würd that he has desisted.” The words came in snatches of apprehension. “Yet the outcome of the Earth lies in the hands of a madman. She has opened the path of ruin. Was I not Appointed to prevent her? My life is now forfeit. It is insufferable.”

Covenant feared to approach her, dreaded to see that she had been wounded or worse. He flung his panic at Findail. His fists knotted the
Elohim
’s creamy mantle. His power gathered to blare through Findail’s lean flesh.

“What happened to her?”

For an instant, Findail’s yellow eyes seemed to consider the wisdom of simply melting out of Covenant’s grasp. But instead he said, “Withhold your fire, ring-wielder. You do not know the peril. The fate of the Earth is fragile in your ungentle hands.” Covenant sent out a flare of rage. At once, Findail added, “I will answer.”

Covenant did not release him. Wild magic roiled in him like a nest of snakes. His heart beat on the verge of an outcry.

“She has been silenced,” Findail said carefully, studying Covenant as he spoke, “as you were silenced at the
Elohimfest
. Entering you, she took the stillness which warded you into herself.” He spoke as if he were trying to make Covenant hear another message, an implied justification for what the
Elohim
had done. But Covenant had no ears for such things. Only the clench of his fists kept him from exploding.

“But for her it will not endure,” Findail went on. “It is yours, formed for you, and will not hold her. She will return to herself in her own time. Therefore,” he continued more urgently, “there is no call for this wild magic. You must quell it. Do you not hear me? The Earth rests upon your silence.”

Covenant was no longer listening. He thrust Findail away. Fire flashed from the opening of his hands like an instant of tinder. Turning to Linden, he struck the bonds from her arms, the chains from her ankles, then reached out to catch her. But she did not fall: her body reflexively found its balance as if her most primitive instincts prompted her to avoid the necessity of his embrace. Slowly her head came up. In the yellow-and-white light of torches and wild magic, he saw that her eyes were empty.

Oh, Linden! He could not stop himself. He put his arms around her, hugged and rocked her as if she were a child. He had been like this himself. And she had done it to herself for him. His embrace spread a penumbra of argence over her. The flow of his power covered her as if he would never be able to let her go. He did not know whether to weep because she was alive or to cry out because she was so destitute. She had done it to herself. For him.

Brinn spoke firmly, without fear or any other inflection. “Ur-Lord, this Kemper will not wish to permit our departure. We must hasten.”

“Aye, Giantfriend,” said the First. Every passing moment restored more of her combative steadiness. “Starfare’s Gem remains at risk, and we are far from it. I doubt neither Sevinhand’s resource nor his valiance, but I am eager to quit this place and set my feet once again upon the
dromond
.”

Those were words that Covenant understood—not vague threats such as Findail uttered, but a concrete call to action. The
Elohim
had said,
The outcome of the Earth lies in the hands of a madman
. He had asked for the ring. And Covenant had killed so many people, despite his own revulsion for bloodshed. He distrusted all power. Yet the wild magic ran through him like a pulse of rapture, avid for use, and consuming. The First’s urging restored to him the importance of his quest, the need for survival and flight.

She brought back images of Kasreyn, who had forced Linden to this extremity.

Carefully he released Linden, stepped back from her. For a long moment, he studied her, fixing her blank and desirable face in his mind like a focus for all his emotions. Then he turned to his companions.

With a mental gesture, he struck the bonds from their wrists and ankles, beginning with Seadreamer and then Ceer so that the mute Giant could tend the injured
Haruchai
. Ceer’s hurt gave him a renewed pang which made flame spill from his arms as if he were nothing more than firewood for the wild magic. More than once, he had healed himself, preserved himself from harm. Yet his numbness rendered him incapable of doing the same for his friends. He had to exert a fierce restraint to hold his frustration back from another explosion.

In a moment, the rest of the company was free. Pitchwife was uncertain on his feet, still suffering the effects of the blow he had received. But Brinn moved forward as if he were prepared to attempt anything in Covenant’s service. Cail took charge of Linden. The First drew her new longsword, gripped it in both fists; and her eyes were as keen as the edges of the iron. Honninscrave flexed the chain he had broken, testing its usefulness as a weapon.

They spent a short moment savoring the taste of their release. Then the First sprang up the stairs out of the cell, and the company followed her.

The outer corridor disappeared around corners to left and right; but the First immediately chose the direction the departing Sandgorgon had taken. Covenant went down that passage behind her with Brinn and Honninscrave beside him and his other companions at his back. The Giants had to stoop because the corridor was too low-ceilinged for them. But beyond the first corner was a larger hallway marked by many cell doors. The
hustin
that had guarded the place were dead now, lying broken where Nom had left them. Covenant did not take the time to look into the cells; but he snapped all the door-bolts as he passed.

That hall gave into a warren of passages. The First was forced to halt, uncertain of her way. A moment passed before Brinn spotted a stair ascending from the end of one corridor. At once, the company started in that direction.

Ahead of them, a slim woman came down the stairs, began running toward them. When she saw them, she stumbled to a stop in surprise, then hurried forward again.

She was hardly recognizable as the Lady Alif. Her robe had been torn and blackened. Her hair hung about her in straggles; her scalp was mottled with sore bare patches. Four long red weals disfigured her right cheek.

Facing the First and Covenant, she panted. “The Sandgorgon— How is it that you—?” But an instant later, she registered Covenant’s fire, the alert heat in his eyes. She sagged momentarily. “Ah, I feared for you. You were my hope, and when the Sandgorgon— I came to look upon you, thinking to see my own death.” Her features winced around her wounds. But her thoughts came together quickly, and she cried out, “You must flee! Kasreyn will levy all the might of the Sandhold against you.”

The First shot a glance at Covenant; but he was not Linden, could not tell whether to trust this woman. Memories of the Lady filled him with unease. Would she be here now if he had been able to succumb to her?

Sternly the First said, “Lady, you have been harmed.”

She raised one hand to her cheek—a gesture of distress. She had been one of the Favored; her position had depended on her beauty. But a moment later she dropped her hand, drew her dignity about her, and met the First’s scrutiny squarely.

“The Lady Benj is not gentle in triumph. As she is the
gaddhi
’s Favored, I was not permitted to make defense.”

At that, the First gave a nod like a promise of violence. “Will you guide us from this place?”

The Lady did not hesitate. “Yes. There is no life for me here.”

The First started toward the stairs: the battered woman stopped her. “That way leads to the First Circinate. From thence there is no path outward but that which lies through the gates—the strength of the Sandhold. I will show another way.”

Covenant approved. But he had other plans. His form shed flickers of power at every heartbeat. “Tell me where you’re going.”

Rapidly she replied, “The Sandgorgon has made a great breach in the Sandhold. Following the beast’s path, we will gain the open sand within the Sandwall. Then the surest path to the Harbor lies atop the Sandwall itself. It will be warded, but mayhap the Kemper’s mind will be bent otherwhere—toward the gates.”

“And we will be less easily assailed upon the wall,” said the First grimly, “than within the gates, or in the streets of
Bhrathairain
. It is good. Let us go.”

But Covenant was already saying, “All right. I’ll find you on the wall. Somewhere. If I don’t show up before then, wait for me at the Spikes.”

The First swung toward him, burned a stare at him. “Where do you go?”

He was acute with venom and power. “It won’t do us any good to fight our way through the Guards. Kasreyn is the real danger. He can probably sink the ship without setting foot outside Kemper’s Pitch.” Memories swirled in him—flaring recollections of the way he had once faced Foamfollower, Triock, and Lena after the defense of Mithil Stonedown and had made promises. Promises he had kept. “I’m going to bring this bloody rock down around his ears.”

In those days, he had had little or no understanding of wild magic. He had made promises because he lacked any other name for his passion. But now Linden was silenced, had gone blank and blind for his sake; and he was limned in white fire. When the First gave him a nod, he left the company, went at a run toward the stairs.

Brinn was instantly at his side. Covenant cast a glance at the
Haruchai
. They would be two lone men against the entire Sandhold. But they would be enough. At one time, he and Brinn had faced all Revelstone alone—and had prevailed.

But as he started up the stairs, a flash of creamy white snagged his attention, and he saw Findail running after him.

He hesitated on the steps. The
Elohim
ran as easily as Vain. When he reached Covenant, Findail said intently, “Do not do this. I implore you. Are you deaf as well as mad?”

For an instant, Covenant wanted to challenge Findail. His palms itched with power; flames skirled up and down his arms. But he held himself back. He might soon have a better chance to obtain the answers
he wanted. Swinging away from the
Elohim
, he climbed the stairs as swiftly as the fire in his legs.

The stairs were long; and when they ended, they left him in the maze of halls and passages at the rear of the First Circinate. The place seemed empty. Apparently, the forces of the Sandhold had already been summoned elsewhere. He did not know which way to go. But Brinn was certain. He took the lead; and Covenant followed him at a run.

The breaking of rocks had stopped. The stones no longer trembled. But from a distance came the sound of sirens—raw and prolonged cries like the screaming of gargoyles. They wailed as if they were mustering all
Bhrathairealm
for war.

Chewing the knowledge that no flight from the Sandhold or
Bhrathairain
Harbor could hope to succeed while Kasreyn of the Gyre lived, Covenant increased his pace.

Sooner than he expected, he left the complex backways and poured like a flow of silver into the immense forecourt of the First Circinate, between the broad stairways which matched each other upward.

The forecourt was heavily guarded by
hustin
and soldiers.

A shout sprang at the ceiling. The forces of the Sandhold were ranked near the gates to fend off an attempted escape. They looked vast and dim, for night had fallen and the forecourt was lit only by torches held among the Guards. At the shout, assailants surged forward.

Brinn ignored them. He sped lightly to the nearest stairs, started upward. Covenant followed on the strength of wild magic. Findail moved as if the air about him were his wings.

Answering the shout, a cadre of
hustin
came clattering from the Second Circinate. Scores of Guards must have been waiting there, intending to catch the company in a pincer. Shadows flickered like disconcertion across their bestial faces as they saw the three men rising to meet them instead of fleeing.

Brinn tripped one of them, staggered a second, wrested the spear from a third. Then Covenant swept all the
hustin
from the stair with a sheet of flame and raced on.

Pausing only to hurl that spear at the pursuit, Brinn dashed back into the lead.

The Second Circinate was darker than the First. The squadrons poised there did not betray their presence with torches. But Covenant’s power shone like a cynosure, exposing the danger. At every step, he seemed to ascend toward exaltation. Venom and fire conveyed him forward as if he were no longer making his own choices. Since the
hustin
and soldiers were too many for Brinn to attack effectively, Covenant called the
Haruchai
to his side, then raised a conflagration around the two of them and used it like the armor of a battlewain as he continued on his way. His blaze scored a trail across the floor. The attackers could not reach him through it. Spears were thrown at him, but wild magic struck them into splinters.