The Last Dark (47 page)

Covenant knew how he felt. Striving for confidence, he countered, “She’s
your
mother. Has she ever
not
come back?”

Centuries ago among the Dead in Andelain, High Lord Elena had urged Covenant to take care of Linden,
that in the end she may heal us all
.

Before Jeremiah could reply, the Ironhand wavered on her feet: she nearly fell. Blinking as if she could no longer focus her eyes, she croaked, “For mercy’s sake, have done with contention. We must rest.”

“Hellfire,” Covenant growled. During his many experiences with Giants, he had seen them in every extreme of peril and pain; but he had never known them to be utterly exhausted. “What’re we waiting for? You don’t just look tired. You must be half starved.” Where could they have replenished the Ardent’s supplies? “Let’s go lie down.”

Instead of responding, the Swordmainnir simply turned and trudged toward the fane like women who had come to the end of every desire except the wish for relief. Longwrath they left where he had fallen. After everything that they had done and endured, they were too weak to lament his end.

nside the edifice, the company found better shelter than Covenant had expected. Though the walls were punctuated with gaps, and the ceiling looked precariously balanced, the winds outside were reduced to a confusion of mild breezes. In addition, the stones retained a suggestion of warmth: an aftereffect of theurgy. There Rime Coldspray returned the
krill
to Branl, and the Giants stretched themselves out like dead women. But they did not sleep immediately. In low voices, wan and necessary, they began to talk, first Cirrus Kindwind, then Latebirth, then Onyx Stonemage. They told Covenant how Linden had broken open the ridge to uncover malachite. Passing the story from one to another, they described the building of Jeremiah’s fane, and the extravagance of Stave’s efforts, and the narrowness of his survival. And when their voices trailed away at last, Jeremiah gave Covenant a condensed version of his escape from his mental ensepulture.

Among his companions, Covenant sat with his knees hugged to his chest and tried not to rock from side to side like a child in need of solace. He wanted Linden, and had no way to reach her.

Cabledarm lay shivering as if she were feverish. Shock, Covenant thought. She had fallen hard and badly after deflecting Stave’s plummet. Not for the first time, he felt bewildered by the abilities of the Giants. Saltheart Foamfollower had once walked through lava: a kind of
caamora
, terrible pain and cleansing. Such deeds had come to appear almost normal for Foamfollower’s people. Now Covenant wondered whether the Swordmainnir would be able to leave their present straits behind if they did not first find fire in which to release their sorrow.

A comparable extravagance seemed normal for the
Haruchai
as well. Covenant could hardly bear to contemplate what Stave had done to help complete Jeremiah’s construct. And the sheer strength of will with which Stave had resisted Infelice for Jeremiah’s sake, and for Linden’s, left Covenant gaping inwardly.

How was it possible for any ordinary man—or woman—or boy—to live up to the example set by the Land’s other defenders, the natural inhabitants of this world?

Nonetheless Linden had taken Mahrtiir into the Land’s past for a purpose as extreme as anything that the Giants and Stave had attempted. Covenant yearned to believe that she would succeed. And he had one tentative reason to think that she would not fail—or had not failed yet. The Arch of Time still held. One moment led to the next. Covenant inhaled and then exhaled. He heard words arranged in comprehensible sequences. Therefore Law endured. Linden had not caused a fatal rupture—or its ripples had not yet reached him.

Perhaps that inference was an illusion. Perhaps he only experienced time chronologically because he was human, too mortal to perceive any other reality. Perhaps nothing truly existed outside the confines of his own perceptions.

He had considered such ideas before. At one time, he had trusted himself to them. Now he discarded them with a private shrug. They changed nothing. He was responsible for the meaning of his life, as he had always been: for his loves, and for his rejections. While he remained able to think and feel, he could not set such burdens down without betraying himself.

No doubt Linden believed something similar. How otherwise could she have hazarded a
caesure
? Without some kind of faith in the necessity of her commitments, how could she have ridden away from her son?

No wonder Covenant loved her.

Eventually the voices of his companions fell into silence. With the suddenness of a child, Jeremiah collapsed into slumber: an aftereffect of effort and Kastenessen’s touch. Cabledarm stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, in too much pain to sleep, or to hear. But Bluntfist’s eyelids closed, and she sank away. Onyx Stonemage resisted yawns—briefly, briefly—until they overcame her. Then Latebirth and Galesend slept as well. Soon only Coldspray, Grueburn, and Kindwind remained awake with Covenant and Branl.

The three women regarded Covenant, obviously waiting to hear more of his own tale.

As much for his own sake as for theirs, he began to speak. But he did not talk about what he had done and endured. He had no language adequate to Joan and the Ranyhyn, or to
turiya
Herem and Clyme, or to the Worm of the World’s End. Instead he spoke of Linden and Horrim Carabal.

“At least now we know what the Ardent meant when he said her fate is
writ in water
. Or part of it, anyway. She gave us an alliance with the actual lurker,” who was nothing if not a creature born of water, made great by water. “Hellfire! How improbable was
that
? But there’s more. If she hadn’t brought down that flood above the Lost Deep, none of us would have escaped. If she hadn’t gone back to the Sarangrave, the Feroce might not have been able to give her my message.”

She had used water to provide malachite for Jeremiah. And Covenant himself had broken her free from memories of She Who Must Not Be Named by holding her underwater. In retrospect, he trembled at his own daring.

“Long ago,” he finished hoarsely, “I told her to
Do something they don’t expect
. If we ever find a way to stop Lord Foul, it’ll be because she’s taken him by surprise over and over again.”

After a long pause, Rime Coldspray mused, “It indeed appears that many unforeseen outcomes were enabled by Linden Giantfriend’s last effort among the caverns. But the same may be said of any deed. If she had not retrieved the Staff of Law. If she had not accompanied your false son and her possessed boy into the Land’s past. If she had not dared all things to create a place for you among the living. Life is ever thus. One step enables another. For that reason, auguries are an ill guide. They tread perilously upon the borders of unearned knowledge.

“Still we are Giants. We crave an understanding of your own deeds. Will you not tell their tale more fully?” She spread her hands in the light of the
krill
as if she wanted to convince Covenant that they were empty and needed to be filled. “Ignorance haunts us. It hinders rest.”

Instead of saying, No, or, Have mercy, or, I can’t bear it, Covenant countered, “I’m not sure that’s true. I think it’s Longwrath who haunts you.” The Giants may have felt that they had failed him. “You need a
caamora
, and you don’t know how to get one. It eats at you.”

The Ironhand did not contradict him. Instead she asked, “Are our hearts so plain to you?”

Covenant shook his head. “I only think you need to grieve because I’ve known Giants for a long time. I can’t
see
you. And Kevin’s Dirt just makes me blinder.”

Numbness was eroding his ability to
hold on
. When he could no longer grip, he would be effectively impotent.

“Then it will comfort you,” interposed Frostheart Grueburn, “to hear that Kastenessen’s vile brume has faded from the heavens. His entry to the Chosen-son’s fane has unbound his theurgies. Also the decimation of the stars has ceased. While the remaining
Elohim
are preserved, it will not be resumed.”

Faded—Covenant released his legs, sat up straighter. “Well, damn.” He had assumed that Kevin’s Dirt was gone—that its bale required Kastenessen’s constant attention—but he had not had an opportunity to ask for confirmation. “
Thank
you. If you hadn’t built this place”—he gestured around him—“I might be useless by now.”

He had always been useless without friends.

But the Giants were not deflected from their concerns. “Nonetheless,” Cirrus Kindwind remarked, still probing, “your ailment has gained force. And we fear that you will refuse Linden Giantfriend’s succor, as you once refused hurtloam in Andelain. It is your resolve that you must not be healed which most drives our desire to comprehend you.”

Reflexively Covenant grimaced. In a quiet rasp, he said, “I don’t know how to explain it. Leprosy protects me somehow.” If Lena had not given him hurtloam when he first came to the Land, he would not have been able to rape her. “Sure, it costs me a lot. But it’s also a kind of strength. It makes some things possible that I couldn’t do without it.”

Then, to forestall more questions, he urged, “You should get some sleep. We all need rest. Later I’ll figure out some way to give poor Longwrath a
caamora
.” Once before, he had done something similar. “I have Joan’s ring. And the
krill
. I should be able to manage a fire.”

“Very well,” the Ironhand murmured. She was already drifting. “Though the burden of our woe is great, it is surpassed by weariness.”

In another moment, her head sagged, and she was asleep.

Frostheart Grueburn tried to swallow a cavernous yawn. Then she did what she could to make herself comfortable on the bare dirt.

For a while, Cirrus Kindwind continued to study Covenant through the
krill
’s silver. But she did not prod him further. Nodding as if she were content, she said, “Earlier I had occasion to remind Stave Rockbrother that he is not alone. I would proffer a similar assurance now. Whatever the substance of your fears or pains may be, you will not be required to confront it alone. We are merely weakened. We are not inclined to forsake you.” She hesitated briefly, then added, “And Linden Giantfriend has not forgotten her love for you.”

Before Covenant could decide whether to weep or smile, Kindwind turned away and settled herself for sleep.