Against All Things Ending (8 page)

“You do not,” Galt stated severely. “Had Linden Avery not roused the Worm of the World’s End, still would her deed be a Desecration as vile as any Fall, and as fatal. In her own name, and for no purpose other than to ease her own heart, she has violated Laws upon which the continuance of life depends. The result is an unraveling of
necessity
, of act and consequence.” His tone was pitiless. Through him, the Humbled passed judgment. “In the end, only evil can ensue.

“A woman who has committed such crimes will commit others. She must not be permitted to perform further atrocities.”

Clearly the Humbled did not intend to let Linden intervene in Covenant’s plight.

The Manethrall and his Cords stiffened. Mahrtiir twitched his garrote into his hands. But neither the
Haruchai
nor the Ranyhyn moved. Therefore the Ramen did not.

“Nevertheless,” Stave remarked without inflection, “you will not raise your hand against her. The Unbeliever has instructed your forbearance. The Ranyhyn have declared their devoir against you. And I will not stand aside. No friend of the Chosen will stand aside. Mayhap even the Giants, who have named her Giantfriend, will abide by their allegiance. If you intend to impose your will upon the Chosen, you must oppose all who have gathered here in her name. And you must defy the given command of the ur-Lord, Thomas Covenant.”

Linden ignored the denunciation of the Humbled. She did not listen to Stave’s affirmation. She meant to confront the Harrow. She had nowhere else to turn. She had already done everything else wrong. Lord Foul’s release had become inevitable. Nevertheless one task remained to her.

Did the Harrow covet her Staff and Covenant’s ring? Let him. If he accepted her instruments of power, the result would not be what he appeared to expect.

Before she could speak, however, Liand’s murmur and a shift in the attention of the Ramen caught her. Following their gaze, she saw the Giants emerge from the enfolding night. Spectral in the brightness of the
krill
, Rime Coldspray and her comrades strode into the vale, bringing Anele with them.

Anele, at least, seemed to be at peace. Linden saw at a glance that his protective madness remained. He was swaddled in incoherence. But he had found—or had been led to—a place of rest amid his private turmoil. She could almost believe that he had been given a sense of purpose by his parents; an insight into the needs which compelled his fractured striving.

When your deeds have come to doom, as they must, remember that he is the hope of the Land
. Apparently Sunder and Hollian imagined that their son still had a vital role to play, despite the awakening of the Worm.

In contrast, the emanations of the Giants spoke of gritted teeth and grim resolve. The manner in which they advanced upon Linden and her companions, and the darkness of their scowling, announced that they knew what had transpired here. Drawing them away, the shade of Grimmand Honninscrave must have explained what their absence had permitted or prevented. Perhaps Honninscrave had told the Swordmainnir why the Dead had sought to ensure that the living did not participate in or disrupt Linden’s choices.

Apparently, however, the former Master of Starfare’s Gem had revealed other things as well. The Giants spared a moment of sorrow for Covenant’s unconsciousness. They acknowledged Linden with ambivalent nods and grimaces, as if they had not made up their minds about her: they glowered ominously at the Harrow and the Humbled. But they did not pause for Stave or the Ramen or Liand. Instead they strode toward Infelice with demands in their eyes and anger in their stalwart arms.

Hardly aware of what she did, Linden turned to learn what impelled the Giants.

As they confronted Infelice, her expression became imperious. Bitterly she drifted into the air until her face was level with the combative glaring of the Swordmainnir. Her lambent form demanded an obeisance which the Giants did not deign to grant.

“In a distant age,” Rime Coldspray said at once, “our ancestors were misled to accept a false bargain with the
Elohim
. That the bargain was false in all sooth has been made plain to us. And it has now been betrayed through no deed of ours. We require restitution.”

A bargain? Linden wondered. What bargain?

Infelice lifted her chin haughtily. “And do you conceive that restitution is mine to grant?”

“How could it be otherwise?” retorted the Ironhand. “The bargain was made at your behest. The falseness is yours. With oblique misstatement and bland prevarication, you offered a true benefit to obtain a vile payment which no Giant who has ever lived would have proffered knowingly. Now you have claimed payment for that gift purchased with lies—and the guerdon has been withdrawn. Therefore our payment must be returned to us.”

Dimly Linden remembered hearing the Giants of the Search mention a bargain. Ten years ago in her life. But something had reminded her of it recently.

The eyes of the
Elohim
flared like faceted fires. “You reason falsely, Giant. I concede that our bargain has been betrayed through no deed of yours. Indeed, I concede that your witless ancestors concealed from themselves the truth of their own profligate unwisdom. But we did not impose their misapprehension. We merely permitted it. Nor have we condoned the betrayal of our bargain. That the
mere
-son sees fit to serve mad Kastenessen does not occur by our choice, or with our consent. For both Kastenessen’s malice and Esmer’s treachery, we are blameless.”

Yes. Linden nodded to herself. Esmer. That was it.

“Nevertheless,” Coldspray insisted, “you have dealt falsely with Giants. The burden of restitution is yours.”

“That is illusion,” countered Infelice. “Of a certainty, I am able to restore your gift of tongues—a gift which the
mere
-son will revoke once more when I have fled, as I must. But I cannot release the
geas
which grips the kinsman whom you name Longwrath.”

Linden winced when she heard that name; and Liand caught his breath. But Infelice did not pause.

“Such restitution”—she sneered the word—“is not mine to grant. The bargain which you name false was freely made, without coercion or constraint. In return for your gift of tongues, we sought the life of one then-unborn Giant at a time and in a circumstance of our choosing. If we did not say as much in language unmistakable to Giants, the fault lies in you. Whether by misapprehension or by self-delusion, the word of your kind was given. That deed is done. The
geas
which we required was set in motion then to seek its fulfillment now. It cannot be released, other than by the unmaking of its origin.

“We will not alter our past. Doing so will hasten the destruction of the Arch—and while we live we will cling to life.”

“Yet it was a dishonest bargain,
Elohim
,” protested Frostheart Grueburn. “Do you equate the granting of a tale with the surrender of a life?”

“A tale
is
a life,” Infelice stated.

“Nonetheless,” Grueburn continued, “you concealed from our ancestors that you craved a weapon potent to procure Linden Giantfriend’s death. Had they known that you wished to claim the life of any Giant for any purpose, they would have turned their backs and departed in repugnance.”

Infelice snorted her disdain. “There was no dishonesty. Our purposes are our own. We do not choose to reveal them. I acknowledge that your ancestors altogether misunderstood us. Still they accepted our bargain. If you find wrong in this, find it in your own kind, whose desire to comprehend the many tongues of the Earth outweighed their desire to comprehend the
Elohim
. We cannot be held accountable for their willingness to bind their descendants to a bargain which you now execrate.”

God, Linden thought in wan surprise. The
Elohim
had planned for this. All those millennia ago. Longwrath’s madness was not Earth-Sight: it was manipulation.
It was for
this!
To avert this present moment
. By misleading his ancestors, the
Elohim
had acquired the power to compel him against her, hoping that he would slay her before she entered Andelain with her Staff and Covenant’s ring.

“That’s unconscionable,” she found herself saying, although she had not intended to speak. “Lord Foul would be proud of you. If you wanted me dead, you could have killed me yourselves. You’ve had plenty of chances. Tricking other people into doing your dirty work isn’t just shortsighted. It’s suicidal. You could have had allies. Now all you’ve got are people who won’t be sorry to see you die first.”

—
are we not equal to all things?

We are the
Elohim,
the heart of the Earth
.
We stand at the center of all that lives and moves and is
.
No other being or need may judge us
—

That
, Esmer himself had proclaimed, that arrogance, that self-absorption,
is shadow enough to darken the heart of any being
.

“Well said, my lady!” The Harrow clapped his hands loudly. “I begin to believe that there is hope for the Earth, when every stratagem but mine has failed.”

The entire company ignored him.

“You denounce yourself, Linden Avery,” Galt asserted flatly. “The false dealings of the
Elohim
are yours as well.”

Linden accepted the charge. She, too, was guilty of self-absorption. Yes, and perhaps even of arrogance.
I need you to doubt me
. She had no other excuse for her actions.

No excuse except her yearning for Thomas Covenant and her compulsory love for Jeremiah.

But Rime Coldspray and then the rest of the Giants turned away from Infelice. Perhaps they had not truly expected to win any form of concession. Moving to stand among the Ranyhyn and the Humbled, they towered against the night sky; the lost stars and the fathomless dark.

“It may be,
Haruchai
,” the Ironhand replied to Galt, “that your certainty is apt. Yet Grimmand Honninscrave, whose valor and sacrifice were known to your ancestors, has assured us that the Dead do not pronounce judgment so readily. Mayhap Cail and others of your forefathers would have endeavored to sway you, had you consented to heed them.

“With honored Honninscrave, we have spoken of many things”—her tone was as hard as the stone of her glaive—“not neglecting the Worm of the World’s End. He described the necessity of freedom in terms too eloquent to be ignored. He did not call us away from Linden Giantfriend’s side so that we would be deprived of our own freedom of response, but rather so that we would not be provoked by events to determine our response in haste. And he said much concerning all that the Giants of the Search learned of Thomas Covenant and Linden Avery.”

Linden listened almost involuntarily. She meant to turn her attention to the Harrow. But her new understanding of Longwrath’s plight clung to her like Honninscrave’s death in possession and defiance.

At Linden’s side, Liand’s eyes shone as though he had already guessed what the Ironhand would reveal.

“That they are mortal,” the leader of the Swordmainnir went on, “and thus driven to error, cannot be denied. But the same must be said of Giants and
Haruchai
—and now also of
Elohim
. And Honninscrave reminded us of the First’s deep love, and of Pitchwife’s, and of his own, which both Thomas Covenant and Linden Avery earned by their courage and resolve, by their given friendship, and by their final refusal to honor the dictates of despair. If we doubt Linden Giantfriend, he acknowledged, we have just cause. But he also avowed that we have just cause to rely upon the lessons of past millennia, lessons of lealty and trust. Indeed, he assured us that his own dreads are preeminently
for
her rather than
of
her. Remain uncertain, as do the Dead, he urged us, and abide by the leanings of your hearts.

“
Haruchai
, our hearts incline to Linden Avery, and also to Thomas Covenant. The peril of his incarnation is plain, as is that of her obduracy and might. He has suffered great harm, and the darkness within her is vivid to all who gaze upon her. Yet he remains a man who has risen to the salvation of the Land. And she has repeatedly demonstrated her capacity for unforeseen healings.

“If you are compelled to pass judgment,” the Ironhand concluded as if she were closing her fist, “do so among yourselves. We will not hear you. In spite of our uncertainty, we have elected to keep faith with our own past—and with hers.”

Short days ago, Coldspray had declared,
After our children, tales are our greatest treasures
.
But there can be no story without hazard and daring, fortitude and uncertainty
.
And joy is in the ears that hear, not in the mouth that speaks
.

Galt held the Ironhand’s gaze without blinking. Clyme and Branl did the same. However, they shared their thoughts in silence rather than aloud. To that extent, at least, they respected the attitude of the Giants. Only Stave heard his kindred; and he said nothing.

“Do you know—?” Linden tried to ask. But her throat closed as if she were still capable of weeping. Dismay filled her mouth like ashes or sand, and she had to swallow hard before she could find her voice. “Do you know what happened to Anele? Did Honninscrave,” oh, God, Honninscrave, who had deliberately accepted a Raver so that Lord Foul’s servant could be torn apart, “say anything about him?”

Coldspray shook her head, and her manner softened. “Of the old man, we know only what your eyes have beheld. We see that he has found solance among his Dead. But his state does not affect the heading of our choices. For that reason, I deem, Honninscrave did not speak of him.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Linden murmured as if to herself. “His freedom is as necessary as anyone else’s. If we knew what was going on inside him, we might interfere somehow.”

Struggling against the Giants’ effect on her, she prepared herself to turn toward the Harrow again.
You have companions, Chosen
—She had an abundance of friends: the Swordmainnir had made that obvious.—
who have not faltered in your service
. Only the Humbled and Infelice wished to oppose her. But that changed nothing. She had set in motion the end of the world. She could not alter it. There was only one thing left for her to do.