Against All Things Ending (77 page)

For an instant, the
geas
of the Insequent appeared to slip. The Ardent slumped; staggered like a man scarcely able to stand. He chuckled softly as if his own grief amused him.

His announcement shocked Linden out of her recursive dismay. The truth was vivid in his voice.

—those monstrous beings—

“Stone and Sea!” growled Rime Coldspray: an appalled imprecation. Several of the other Giants cursed as well. A few moved to begin donning their armor.

—have conjoined their strengths.

Almost immediately, however, a fresh convulsion clenched the Ardent. “The devastation is wide and bitter,” he continued, “leaving naught but the reek of fouled ground in its wake. But it is not without purpose. Kastenessen may indeed be lost to forethought or tactic.
Moksha
is not. And
samadhi
comprehends his brother. The
skurj
and the Sandgorgons do not seek mere ravage. Nor is their savagery directed against sacred Andelain. Rather they strive toward Gravin Threndor.

“Do you comprehend this? They strive toward Gravin Threndor because you cannot meet the Worm of the World’s End while the vile theurgies of Kevin’s Dirt hamper the lady. But if you wish to quench Kevin’s Dirt, you must first master Kastenessen—and he has secreted himself within the Wightwarrens, where he draws upon the illimitable vehemence of She Who Must Not Be Named. Therefore—”

Harshly Covenant muttered, “I get it.”

But the distant Insequent did not heed him. “—when you attempt the mountain, you will find the Sandgorgons and the
skurj
arrayed against you. And doubtless a host of Cavewights will join with them. Your foes will be many and terrible.”

“I said,” Covenant snapped, “I
get
it.” His hands clutched the wrapped bundle of the
krill
, although he seemed unaware of it. “Hellfire! You don’t need to beat me over the head. And you didn’t come here just to warn us. You have something in mind.”

Reflexively Linden held her breath. The Swordmainnir watched the Ardent with warrior intensity. Mahrtiir stood at Linden’s shoulder as if he were poised for battle.

Now the Ardent’s people kept their grip on him. Apparently expending the last shreds of his life, he panted, “The lady’s fate is writ in water. All auguries are swept aside. Yet her need for death remains. We conclude that you must have allies.”

Linden forced herself to exhale; but she could not still the hammering of her heart.

“Though powers abound in the Earth, we have no means to summon them. The
Elohim
will not aid you. And for this purpose, the Insequent themselves cannot serve. We are largely defenseless against Ravers, as we are against She Who Must Not Be Named. The hazard that we will turn against you is too great.”

Covenant’s air of storms increased. “Get to the point. Who else is there?”

This time, the Ardent appeared to hear him. “We see no alternative other than the
Haruchai
. Yet they will not heed us. No Insequent will sway them. Should we appeal to them, they will close their ears and remain as they are.”

“It’s suicide,” Linden breathed without thinking. “Of course they’ll refuse. They can’t fight Sandgorgons and
skurj
.”

But Mahrtiir’s voice rode over hers. “To whom will the sleepless ones attend?”

At the same time, Covenant countered, “What’s the point? Even with the Ranyhyn, none of us can get to Revelstone fast enough. The Worm will be here before the Masters even know we need them. After that, whatever they do will be wasted.”

Rigid as the last clench of death, the Ardent waited for silence.

Glaring at him, Covenant muttered, “Oh, hell. Do it your way. I’ll shut up.”

Through their coerced vessel, the Insequent replied, “This is our last requirement of the Ardent. The
Haruchai
are capable of much. Select those among you who will be most readily heeded. He will transport them to Revelstone, where they may plead on the Land’s behalf. Then he will depart from life and suffering. Perchance some measure of hope will remain.”

Before anyone else could respond, Mahrtiir announced, clarion as the call of horns, “If that is your word, Insequent, my Cords will accompany you.”

At once, Pahni jerked up her head, spun away from Jeremiah. Bhapa’s sudden pallor made him look faint; appalled.

The Manethrall’s assertion appeared to satisfy the Ardent—or his people. “That is well,” he or they observed. “The
Haruchai
would not refuse the Timewarden. Nevertheless he has another purpose. He must not step aside from it.”

Then the
geas
left the frail man. As if he were crumpling, he folded to the sand. Propped on his hands and knees, no longer able to call on his apparel for support, he gasped small bursts of broken laughter.

The Cords? Linden thought. The
Cords
? Oh, God!

Covenant had foreseen this—

He scowled at the dying man as though he wanted to hear more.—another purpose. But the Giants turned to regard Manethrall Mahrtiir. Studying his bandaged visage, Rime Coldspray said uncertainly, “It is much to ask. Surely Stave or one of the Humbled—?”

Without a flicker of hesitation, Stave stated, “My kinsmen will not harken to me. And the Humbled will not part from the Unbeliever. It is bootless to inquire of them.”

“Then a Giant?” asked the Ironhand. “The Masters have made their unwelcome plain for many centuries. Nonetheless I will believe that they have not forgotten their ancient esteem, first for the Unhomed and later for the comrades of the Search.”

“No.” The Manethrall spoke as if his word were Law. “My Cords will bear this burden. It was foretold for them. They will not refuse it.”

—
you two have the hardest job
.
You’ll have to survive
.
And you’ll have to make them listen to you
.

For the same reason, Mahrtiir could not accompany them. Covenant had counseled him to take a different path.

You’ll have to go a long way to find your heart’s desire
.
Just be sure you come back
.

Shaken, Bhapa cried softly, “Manethrall,
no
. I implore you!”

Instinctively Linden wanted to add her voice to the Cord’s. She feared Covenant’s prophecies. They all seemed to mean death.

She’s already given them too many reasons to feel ashamed of themselves
.

But Pahni swept forward as if she were pouncing. “
Yes!
” The eagerness of a hawk shone in her soft eyes. “I will lay Liand’s death at the feet of the Masters and compel an answer. They deem themselves the descendants of the Bloodguard. I will require of them a comparable service.

“Come, Bhapa,” she commanded. Passionate and peremptory, she extended her hand to the older Cord. “No Cord may refuse when the Manethrall speaks and the Land’s need is clear.”

The Ardent made aimless sounds in the back of his throat. He was too weak to chuckle.

With something like sympathy in his voice, Mahrtiir asked, “Will you gainsay me, Bhapa? Were you selected to accompany the Ringthane along the path of her many travails because you were counted unfit for lesser duties? Did not Whrany consent to bear you, when until that day no Raman had ever ridden the Ranyhyn? And did not Rohnhyn freely offer himself when Whrany was slain? The Timewarden has spoken of trust. The time has come for Cord Bhapa of the Ramen to trust himself.”

Panic filled Bhapa’s mien: alarm glistened in his eyes. The skin of his face was the color of sun-beaten dust.

But then, trembling, he bowed to his Manethrall. His hand quivered like an aspen leaf about to fall as he accepted Pahni’s clasp.

With a visible effort, Covenant unclosed his fingers from the
krill
. “I’m sorry,” he muttered to no in particular. “If this was my idea—” He grimaced. “I can’t imagine what I was thinking. You deserve an explanation, but I don’t have one.”

Bitterly Linden swore to herself. Under other circumstances, she might have protested. She did not know how to bear Liand’s death, or Anele’s, or even Galt’s. She did not want to lose Bhapa and Pahni as well.

Panting, the Ardent said hoarsely, “Timewarden.”

Covenant moved closer. “Yes?”

Stretched thin with effort, the Ardent urged as clearly as he could, “Remember Mishio Massima.”

Covenant stared. “Is that your true name?”

Could he be invoked? Even when he was so close to collapse?

The dying man gave a cracked laugh. “It is my steed.”

A moment later, the
geas
of the Insequent gripped him for the last time. It wrenched him to his feet with his head thrown back as if he needed to scream. Ribbands coiled spasmodically around him; fell to the ground; twisted upward again. His hands clutched at the air like claws.

“It is enough,” he said as if the words were torn from his throat. “We are content. Here ends the Ardent. If the Earth endures, he will be honored as the greatest of the Insequent.”

A moment later, his raiment reached out to clasp Pahni and Bhapa. So quickly that the Cords had no chance to say farewell, he gathered them to him and vanished.

Involuntarily Linden staggered as if she wished to follow them. Their departure seemed to leave a gap in the air that she needed to fill. But Stave caught her instantly; and of course she had nowhere to go.

At her side, Mahrtiir sagged like a man unexpectedly bereft. Now that his Cords were gone, his aura revealed a pang of uncertainty, as if he had sent them to be humiliated. Nothing that Handir and the other Masters had done in Revelstone gave the Manethrall cause to believe that Bhapa and Pahni would succeed.

Linden hoped that one of the Giants would say something to reassure Mahrtiir. She could not. But Covenant had already flung himself into motion; resumed his pacing. “Hellfire,” he growled to himself. “His
steed
?” Briefly he appeared to count the number of times that he could repeat those words between one slope of the canyon and the other. Then he wheeled to face the company.

His manner compelled their attention in spite of the abrupt loss of Pahni and Bhapa—and of the Ardent.

“I don’t need to know the name of his damn horse,” he rasped. “I have to go.” Then he swore again, a string of curses so familiar that they sounded like pleading. To Linden’s startled dismay, and the small lift of Stave’s eyebrow, and the open surprise of the Swordmainnir, he repeated, “I have to
go
.”

Brusque with self-coercion, he added, “I know this is sudden. Never mind that I’m usually useless. You still think you need me. You went through too much to bring me back in the first place. Probably the last thing you want right now is to watch me leave. Hell, if I were you, that’s how I would feel. But I
have
to go.

“And you can’t go with me. Before I worry about anything else, there’s something I have to do alone.”

—he has another purpose.

While Linden reeled within herself, he shrugged awkwardly. “Well, not absolutely alone. I’m taking Clyme and Branl with me. You’ll have to manage without them until I get back.”

With both hands, he held the bundled
krill
as if his life depended on it.

He must not step aside from it.

Disconcerted, the Giants struggled to muster a response. Mahrtiir stared at Covenant in unconcealed chagrin. Even Stave’s flat visage gave hints of disapprobation.

“Is this some new recollection?” the Ironhand inquired finally. “Do you now possess knowledge or understanding which you have not revealed?”

But Linden noticed none of her companions; no one except the man who had once loved her—and now would not let her touch him.

“Covenant,” she panted, unconsciously fighting for breath. “Covenant.” He was rejecting her. “What are you talking about?” God, he was
rejecting
her. “I need—We need—” Her sins had become too much for him. “God damn it, Covenant! If you don’t care about anything else, the
Land
needs you.”

She had awakened the Worm for his sake. She could not suffer the consequences of her desperation or folly without him.

“Linden,
listen
to me.” His gaze was flagrant with emotions for which she had no names. His eyes were blurred fires of loss or pity or pure rage. “I’m talking about Joan.”

For an instant, he raised the
krill
as if he meant to drive it into Linden’s chest. Then his features twisted. Roughly he shoved the shrouded weapon back into his jeans. Empty-handed, as if he were defenseless, he tried to explain.

“She’s not just a white gold wielder who can make the whole created world into a wasteland if she lives long enough. And she’s not just going through the tortures of the damned because bloody
turiya
and the bloody
skest
won’t let her die. She was my
wife
. She’s Roger’s
mother
. I owe her for that.” He may have meant restitution or retribution. “She’s my problem. I can’t do anything else until I deal with her.”

While Linden struggled for air, Rime Coldspray stepped forward. To counter Covenant’s intensity, she spoke with the steadiness of stone.

“Covenant Timewarden. I perceive now that you have awaited this opportunity, when the
krill
is no longer needed to secure Linden Giantfriend’s son. For your restraint, I honor you.

“But the Ardent has spoke of Sandgorgons and
skurj
, and of the imperative need for some response to the manner in which Kastenessen has shackled the Staff of Law and all Earthpower. Is this not more urgent than the plight of a lone madwoman?”

“Hell and blood!” Uselessly Covenant brandished his maimed fists. “I heard the Ardent. I know what’s at stake. But I’ve already sacrificed my own daughter. I can’t go on until I’ve faced Joan. Sometimes we have to do things that are more important than saving the world. Sometimes we can’t save anything else until we’ve cleaned up our own lives.”

“Then why,” objected the Ironhand, “must you refuse our aid?” Her tone did not waver. “Here are eight Giants, a Manethrall of the Ramen, Stave of the
Haruchai
, and Linden Giantfriend. Surely our combined strengths are not too paltry to be of service.”