The Last Dark (87 page)

Alarm flared across her face as she turned to him; but she did not protest. Instead she tightened her grip on herself, increased the pressure until it threatened to break her. “Already?” she asked without hope or humor. “Are you sure? I still want to live.”

Her gaze said, I still want to live with you.

“Kiril Threndor isn’t far.” Covenant choked for a moment. He had to swallow a rush of grief. “You can’t go there with me. Neither can Jeremiah. This is it.”

As if he were asking for forgiveness, he added, “I’ll take Branl. Jeremiah will have Stave and Canrik and Samil.”

She looked away. Her eyes avoided Coldspray and Grueburn as if she felt shamed by the prices which they had paid for her. Instead she regarded her son again.

To no one in particular, she said, “All right. I chose this. Some of those poor Masters might still be alive if I had made a different choice.” She seemed to choke momentarily. “Or Baf Scatterwit. Cirrus Kindwind. God, I loved her—

“Losing them will be wasted if I change my mind now.”

Covenant’s vision blurred. He squeezed his eyes shut to clear them. Taunting her, Lord Foul had called Linden his
daughter
. He was wrong.

From the floor, Jeremiah asked suddenly, “What’re you talking about?”

Linden did not let herself look away. “Jeremiah, honey—” Her voice was breaking. “I have to go.”

In one motion, Jeremiah surged to his feet, lifted his gaze into the light of the
krill
. His eyes were as black as the Staff. Even the whites had become midnight.

“Go where?”

“I can’t put it off any longer.” She sounded tight enough to snap. “I need to face the only thing that scares me worse than losing you. You and Thomas.”

His face twisted. Protests clawed at his features. “But you’ll come back,” he said as if that were not a question. “That’s what you do. You come back.”

She flinched—but she did not falter. “I don’t think so, honey. Not this time.”

Jeremiah stared horror at her. “You’re going to leave me? You’re going to let Lord Foul have me?”

“No, Jeremiah.” Her tone sharpened. “I’m not going to
let
him anything. But I can’t fight him for you. Even if I took back the Staff and stood right in front of you, I couldn’t help you.” More gently, she said, “I wish that I could spare you, but I can’t. If you don’t want him to take you, you have to stop him yourself.

“I know it’s hard—”

Her son cut her off. Vicious as a denunciation, he sneered, “‘I know it’s hard.’ You keep saying that. You don’t know anything. I’ve already tried to fight. I’m not strong enough. The
croyel
thought I was easy. How am I supposed to stop the Despiser?”

Linden shook her head. Her distress made Covenant ache. “I don’t know. But I believe in you. You can do it.”

“I
can’t
!” His shout was like the tearing of flesh, full of pain and awash with blood. “I’ll have to watch the Worm destroy
everything
!”

Covenant’s balance shifted. Only grief kept him from dropping to his knees. Only a whetted empathy kept him from raging at Jeremiah. But grief and empathy were enough. He braced himself on them when everything else spun away.

“You can always decide to give up,” he said as if he were steady and sure; as if he had strength to spare. “You have that right. If it’s what you really want.” Or the boy could join Lord Foul. “But I need you. I’m going to need you absolutely. And Linden can’t help me. Nobody else can. There’s only you.

“But first we have to let Linden go.”

Jeremiah flung a look black enough to kill at Covenant.

A heartbeat later, the boy turned his back on his mother.

“Then go.” He sounded as lightless and fatal as the path toward Kiril Threndor. “You never loved me anyway. I was just an excuse. You don’t want to have to blame yourself for letting me put my hand in that bonfire.”

“Jeremiah—” Linden was weeping now. “Honey—”

Ah, hell, Covenant thought. Visions of the Worm had raised all of Jeremiah’s demons. He had spent days suppressing them. They ruled him now. Deliberately he sat down again, put his back to his mother; to Covenant and their companions. His hands wrestled ebon flames along the wood of the Staff as if he wanted to rewrite Caerroil Wildwood’s runes.

Maybe we should all try to become gods.

The Giants watched blank-eyed, caked in drying blood, mute as cenotaphs. Branl studied Jeremiah with a speculative frown, as if he were considering where to cut the boy.

Covenant gave the
krill
to Stave. Then he took Linden’s arm and pulled her away. While she stifled sobs against his chest, he held her tight.

With as much tenderness as he could manage, he promised quietly, “I’ll talk to him, love. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s just proving your point. You can’t do his fighting for him. No matter what happens to him, he’s the only one who can do anything about it.”

“Oh, Thomas.” Distress shuddered through her, harsh as spasms. “I’m so scared. What if he gets it wrong?”

For a moment, she could not go on. She slumped against Covenant as if she had lost the will to stand on her own.

He hugged her in silence. He had no words—

But gradually she responded to his embrace; drew a steadier breath. Freeing one arm, she wiped her face, smeared tears and blood across her cheeks. “And I swore that I would love you as long as you never let me go. Now I’m the one who’s leaving. I have to let both of you go.”

Covenant held her as hard as he could. “I understand. You can’t get rid of me this easy.” Then he said more seriously, “In any case, I’m like you. I believe in Jeremiah. He has to feel this way. If he doesn’t, he won’t ever get past it.”

At one time, Covenant himself had embraced despair—

“Also,” Stave put in like a man who had been biding his time and was done with patience, “you will not depart alone.” The
krill
shone full on his face; on the scar of his lost eye. “Linden Avery, I have said that I will not be parted from you again. The Chosen-son I entrust to Canrik and Samil, and to the Swordmainnir. You I will accompany.”

Surprise seemed to loosen some of Linden’s tension: surprise or relief. She ignored the former Master long enough to kiss Covenant quickly, wipe her face again. Then she turned to Stave.

“Do you know where I’m going?”

“Mayhap.” Stave may have smiled. “Or mayhap I am mistaken. I care naught. At one time, I declared that Desecration lies ahead of you. Now I am persuaded that there is no Desecration in you. I will not stand at your side to ward against you. I will do so because I have not learned humility, though you have endeavored to teach me. I crave further instruction.”

His assertion sounded like an example of
Haruchai
humor.

Linden tried to say his name. Apparently she could not. Instead she went to him, put her arms around his neck.

Past her hair, Stave met Covenant’s gaze. “You have wed well, Timewarden,” he said as if his characteristic stoicism had become a form of jesting. “I will strive to ensure her return.”

Covenant nodded. What could he have said? There were no words in all the world for his gratitude.

When Linden released the former Master, he returned Loric’s dagger to the Unbeliever.

Covenant took it; gripped it. His throat was as tight as his grasp on the
krill
. He had to force himself to ask Linden, “Are you ready?”

The corner of her mouth twisted: a failed smile that nearly broke his heart. “I’m never ready. I’ve given up waiting for it.”

He rubbed his scar roughly, tried to compose himself. “Then remember I love you. I
love
you.

“And don’t worry about Jeremiah. You did your part. I refuse to believe anything you did for him is wasted. The rest is up to us.”

Her mouth said, “I’ll try.” Her eyes said, Thomas of my heart.

The Giants offered her no farewell. Frostheart Grueburn set her teeth on her lower lip: a woman stifling protests. Tears streamed openly down her cheeks. Rime Coldspray hung her head as if she could not bear her weariness—or her dismay.

Jeremiah did not look at any of them.

Together Linden and Stave moved to a clear space a few steps from the walls and the Swordmainnir. There they waited like contradictions or counterweights. His poised relaxation balanced her trembling tension. After a moment’s consideration, he tossed Cabledarm’s sword to Canrik. No weapon would serve him now.

Grim as a deliverer of damnation, Covenant stood beyond Linden’s reach. He could not afford to hesitate now. He had no time; and his resolve might fail at any delay. He knew where she was going. He was more afraid for her than he was for himself.

As if he had begun preparing for this days ago, he gave fresh wild magic to the dagger’s gem and thrust the blade into the stone between his boots. When the hard surface caught silver, he dragged the
krill
to the side, cutting granite like damp clay. Step by step, he sliced a circle around Linden and Stave.

Along the line of his cut, his power shone as if rock were the fuel for which it yearned.

He did not need a large circle to enclose his wife and the former Master. In spite of his awkwardness and grieving, he returned to his starting point quickly. Then he forced himself upright. Wild magic reached for the ceiling. Through its brightness, he met Linden’s gaze.

For his sake, she kissed a promise onto her wedding band, held it up with her hand clenched.

Weeping like Grueburn, Covenant slapped his ring against the
krill
’s gem.

The world will not see her like again.

Care for her, beloved, so that in the end she may heal us all.

Too late, Jeremiah cried out, “Mom!” Linden and Stave were gone.

Covenant turned away as if he were falling.

Elena, he thought obliquely, I’m so sorry. I’m doing what I can. Somebody else has to care for you.

till he had no time. He could not afford his own weakness, or the wailing of his wrenched heart. He had to keep moving. He would find some form of peace soon enough.

Ah, God.

Jeremiah was standing now, showing Covenant a face fretted with ruin. “I keep doing that,” he said in such misery that Covenant wanted to turn away. “It’s like I don’t even remember her until it’s too late.” His head hung as if he were talking to the floor. “By the time I understand what she’s doing, she’s already gone. I don’t even say goodbye.”

I’m never ready.

Covenant knew the feeling.

He allowed himself to postpone speaking to Linden’s son for a moment. While he tried to gather up the shreds of his courage, he asked Branl, “How much farther?”

The Humbled glanced at the tunnel ahead. “Kiril Threndor is near, ur-Lord.” Then he frowned. Tension in the lines of his face betrayed anxieties which his tone concealed. “Yet my heart misgives me. I cannot credit that Corruption has no other defenses close about him.” Briefly he appeared to consult with Samil and Canrik. “Also, ur-Lord, I do not discern Corruption’s presence. His malice is particular. It cannot be mistaken. That some great evil awaits us is plain. Yet it is not Corruption. He is absent”—Branl cocked an eyebrow at a sudden thought—“or veiled by glamour.”

Covenant swore privately, but he could not pretend that he was surprised. Lord Foul knew that he was coming—and the Despiser was cunning.

Rubbing numbly at the scar on his forehead—the mark of his sins—Covenant turned to Jeremiah.

“It’s probably a good thing you can see the Worm.” He did not try to be gentle. “You’ll know when it’s time.”

Jeremiah jerked up his head. “Stop that.” His doom was stark in his eyes. Tattered and soiled, stained with old blood, his thin pajamas made him look as unloved as an empty house. “Stop saying things you know I can’t understand. You keep saying you need me, but you won’t tell me how or why. You act like you think I’m important, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Why can’t I come with you?”

Covenant grinned without humor or kindness. “It’s fun, isn’t it. You’re like all the rest of us. Nobody ever hands you an answer. The only thing you can do is guess. Then you have to take your chances.”