The Runes of the Earth: The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - Book One (60 page)

On some level beyond language or explication, they had mastered time.

“Oh, God,” Linden murmured, hardly aware that she spoke aloud. “It's possible. If they help me. I might be able to do it.”

Abruptly, Stave said, “Chosen.” The pain of his hip was palpable as he forced himself to his feet. Stiff with hurt, he moved to stand over Linden. For this one moment, at least, his characteristic dispassion had deserted him. Instead his flat features were knotted with pleading and repudiation.

“Chosen,” he said again.

She stared up at him as though she could not imagine what he would say, although she already knew every word by heart.

“You will not do this.” Complex passions yearned in his voice. “It is abominable. Its hazards surpass endurance. The smallest error will damn the Land utterly.” With a visible effort, he swallowed some of his intensity. “Must I remind you that the Staff supports and sustains Law by its very existence? It need not be wielded in order to affect all that is, all that transpires. If its influence upon the Land's past is removed, will not Corruption respond with delight?”

Linden bowed her head. She could not face the heat of his denial. “Stave,” she breathed, speaking as much to her clenched hands as to him, “I have to.”

“No,” he countered with unwonted vehemence, “you do not. It is madness. Have you considered that Corruption has required three millennia to regain his strength? Have you considered that he has remained so long reduced because the Staff has been potent against him? Are these matters not plain to you? Unused, the Staff has also not been misused. Therefore it hinders Corruption still. Likewise such atrocities as the Falls have been restrained and limited by the Staff's hidden suasion.

“If you will not think of such things, then consider the Masters. We are sworn to the preservation of the Land. Toward that end, we have labored across the centuries to
prevent the misuse of power which enables Corruption. You have earned my forbearance. I do not wish to oppose you. But my enmity—the enmity of the
Haruchai
—is certain if you persist. You are mighty, as we know. Yet I must prevent you. And if I cannot, even your puissance will not avail you against the combined force of the Masters.”

Every word he said was true: Linden knew that. But he had said too much, and she could no longer hear him. Crying, “You don't understand!” she surged to her feet.

Obliquely, she saw that Liand had come to Stave's side, ready to defend her if the Master attacked. However, the Manethralls remained seated, watching her with consternation in their eyes. Bhapa crouched as if he had started to rise with Liand, and had been stopped by a word from the Manethralls.

But they were all irrelevant to her now. It was Stave who confronted her, Stave who challenged her; and he could snap her neck with one sharp blow, in spite of his hurts. Even if she were capable of defending herself, she could not bear to think that he would become her enemy. Another foe among so many—

Ignoring the pain in his hip, the Master faced her. His mien resumed its familiar flat detachment. “Then inform me, Chosen,” he replied inflexibly. The pallor of his scar seemed to reject whatever she might say. “What is it that I do not understand?”

Desperation rose in her like fury. But it was not anger that filled her voice: it was supplication.

“Don't you remember last night? Do you even listen to yourself when you talk? I asked you why the Ramen haven't forgiven you for trying to use the Illearth Stone, and you said it's because they weren't present. They can't know what the Bloodguard suffered in Seareach because they weren't there.

“But you don't know me any better than the Ramen know you.” Transformed by pleading, she met his stare as if her own fear could no longer touch her. “Oh, your people remember everything. But you're like the Ramen. You weren't there. You were so worried about repeating your mistake with the Illearth Stone that you stayed behind when Covenant and I went to face Lord Foul.

“You weren't there when Covenant sacrificed himself. You weren't there when I took his ring and turned Vain and Findail into the Staff of Law, or when I erased the Sunbane, or when—” For an instant, she choked on the memory of Covenant's farewell. Then she shouted, “And you sure as
hell
weren't there when Covenant and I were summoned in the first place!” When Jeremiah had burned away half of his right hand in the Despiser's bonfire. “You think you have the right to pass judgment, but you don't know what's at stake for me.”

Stave appeared to consider her assertion briefly. Then he shook his head. “You have not answered. Your words explain nothing. You make plain that you disdain the necessary choices of the
Haruchai.
You see it as a fault in us that we will never again hazard being made to serve Corruption. You also pass judgment, yet you reveal nothing.

“We do not propose to bear white gold into the heart of a Fall. It is not our intent to dare the utter destruction of the Earth.”

“Then
listen,
” Linden begged. He had missed the point completely. Like the Ramen, he did not know how to forgive. “I
have
to do this.

“Lord Foul has my son.”

 “Your son?”

If Stave felt any surprise or concern, his body did not show it. Linden could not read his emotions.

Nevertheless she found that she was done with pleading. “His name,” she sighed, “is Jeremiah.” Her efforts to persuade the Master cost her too much of her courage. “Foul took him while we were being translated to the Land. A few days ago. I don't suppose you can imagine what he's going through, but I can.” She had been possessed by a Raver. “You can say whatever you want. I'm not going to let anything stop me.”

The Master's stolid demeanor revealed nothing as he averred, “You must. Your purpose is madness. The Earth will perish, and your son with it.”

Oh, hell. Mentally she threw up her hands. “Then don't come with me. You should be able to ride in a few days.” His hip would heal sufficiently in that time. “Take your Ranyhyn and go tell the rest of the Masters what I'm doing. They'll need time to organize your famous ‘enmity.' ”

Do anything you want. Just don't try to stop me yourself.

Stave lifted an eyebrow. Perhaps she had surprised him in spite of his restraint. However, she heard no change in his tone as he replied, “In one thing, Chosen, you have spoken truly. I do not comprehend. Among us children are precious beyond expression. Yet no
Haruchai
would permit a greater harm in order to secure the life of any son or daughter.”

Then he stepped back. “It will be as you say. In ages past, the
Haruchai
have doubted
you—and have learned that they were mistaken. And we have not been present to share your burdens. Their cost is hidden from us. Therefore I will not strive to prevent you now. Rather I will bear word of your actions to the Masters. Together we will determine how we must respond.”

Limping, he turned away; left her to the Ramen and Liand.

Linden had gained that much, if nothing more. He had not struck her down.

Yet now her enemies numbered in the hundreds.

Liand's desire to understand her as well as the Master was tangible between them. But she felt too bereft and vulnerable to answer his unspoken questions. Deliberately she stepped past him in order to stand in front of the Manethralls.

“What about you?” she asked sadly. How could they not turn their backs on her? “A little while ago, you assured me that I'm welcome here.”
Without stint or hindrance.
“Do you agree with Stave? Have you changed your minds?

“I swear to you that I wouldn't do this if I could think of any other way to save my son.”

She absolutely required the Staff of Law. To that extent, at least, her dreams of Thomas Covenant had proven themselves.

And he had told her to find him. She could not imagine where else she might look, except in the past.

Hami, Dohn, and Mahrtiir shared a look. Then, together, they rose to their feet.

“Ah, Ringthane,” Hami sighed, smiling ruefully. “Be at peace among us. You have naught to fear from the Ramen. The Ranyhyn have accepted you. Therefore we may not oppose you, though the peril which you intend for them surpasses our imagining.”

“Yet if you will accept my counsel,” Mahrtiir put in, “you will permit me to accompany you. It will aid you to have a companion who is able to care for the Ranyhyn when you cannot. I scout as well as any Raman—and fight as well also. And I am hardy and Earth-wise. I can provide food and shelter where none appear.

“If you do not discover
aliantha,
what will you eat?” Haste quickened his words. “If you have no shelter, where will you sleep? If you encounter no friends, who will defend you? If—”

Hami placed her hand on Mahrtiir's shoulder; and abruptly he stopped. Facing Linden with eagerness in his eyes, he repeated, “Permit me to accompany you,” and said no more.

He troubled her. She already knew that she would miss Stave's knowledge and prowess. Mahrtiir offered her much that she could not supply for herself—and could not reasonably expect from either Liand or Anele. Yet she was reluctant to take more people into danger. And she was not entirely sure that she could trust the Manethrall. He seemed too eager to prove something—

But how could she reject any form of help? She would need more assistance than
Mahrtiir could give her: that was obvious. Apart from the Ramen, however, there was no one who could aid her except Esmer and the ur-viles; and she had no idea how to ask them.

Slowly she nodded to Mahrtiir. “If you're willing to face the risk. If your people don't need you here.”

Surely there were Cords in his care? What would happen to them? She could not lead people as young as Pahni and Char, girls and boys,
children,
into a
caesure.

But Mahrtiir's gaze lit up as if she had set a match to tinder; and Hami and Dohn said nothing to dissuade him.

Instead the older Manethrall asked a question for the first time. “How will you return?”

Unprepared to reveal what she had in mind, Linden blinked at him dumbly.

Dohn did not meet her stare. He had resumed watching the mountains, apparently looking for unmotivated storms and violence; for signs of Esmer.

“You will enter a Fall,” he explained quietly, “a flaw in Time, and turn it to the past. There you will seek the Staff of Law. Very well. When you have found it”—his tone held an implicit
if
—“what then?

“At the best, your search will require hours. It may well consume days. The Fall will move on. Perhaps it will cease to exist altogether. You will remain in the past, as unable then to regain your son as you are now.

“How will you return?”

Unwittingly he asked Linden to put her worst fear into words. Ever since she had realized the truth, during her vigil over Stave the previous night, she had avoided thinking about it; admitting it to herself. Yet the Ramen deserved an answer. Certainly Liand did.

Her pulse labored in her temples as she said, “If I can't use the first one, I'll have to make a new
caesure.
”

During her translation to the Land, she had seen herself rouse the Worm of the World's End with white fire. Perhaps Lord Foul had already accomplished his aim. By kidnapping Jeremiah, he may have ensured the Land's destruction. If she misjudged her power, or herself, or the stability of the Arch, she might bring Time to an end.

M
ore because she needed some mundane activity to calm her than because she was still hungry, she resumed her seat in order to drink more water and finish the contents of her bowl. If she meant to risk the ruin of the Earth, she would at least do so on a full stomach.

Thinking sour thoughts, she ate fruit and cheese without tasting them; drank water
without washing down the extremity which clogged her throat. Throughout her experience of the Land, she had only followed others: Covenant, Sunder and Hollian; the Giants. Liand had led her away from Mithil Stonedown: the Ramen had brought her to the Verge of Wandering. Until now, she had seldom tried to impose her will on events. For Jeremiah's sake, she needed to be able to trust her own judgment, but she found that increasingly difficult to do.

Soon the Manethralls left the clearing. Perhaps they had responsibilities which they could not ignore. Or perhaps they simply recognized that she wanted to be alone. For reasons of his own, Bhapa trailed after Mahrtiir.

Liand had seated himself beside Linden, but he did not disturb her with questions. Instead he maintained a companionable silence, offering her the simple balm of his presence.

Nevertheless she could not relax with him. His naive acceptance of hazards which he could not possibly understand seemed to undermine her decisions.

She could justify taking Anele anywhere: he had nowhere else to go; and his broken mind might find mending with her. Moreover she needed him—and not only because he knew the location of the Staff. Lord Foul had spoken through him. If he became sane, he might be able to tell her where the Despiser had hidden her son.

As for the Ranyhyn, their choices were irrefragable; beyond her comprehension. And Mahrtiir clearly needed some outlet for his native intensity.

In her eyes, however, Liand belonged among his people in Mithil Stonedown. If for no other reason than because the Masters had deprived the Land of its history and lore, he seemed painfully ill-equipped to confront the dangers ahead of him.

And she was not sure that she could bear to see him killed in her cause.

When she had finished her self-imposed meal, and had spent a little while studying the high peaks for insights which their bluffs and ice disdained, she turned to the Stonedownor at last.

“What about you, Liand?” Incapable of grace, she tried to cover her stiffness by speaking softly. “Why are you still here?

“I know we've had this conversation before. You said you want to help defend the Land. Believe me, I understand that. And you've already done a lot.” More than she could have expected from him. “But Stave isn't wrong. What I'm planning terrifies me. So many things could go wrong—

“This might be your last chance to see your home again.”

Liand faced her soberly; but his voice held a note of affection or amusement as he replied, “Linden, you baffle me. You are wise and valorous, yet you appear as uncomprehending as the Masters. However, your concern is well meant, and I will not take it amiss.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “I might respond once more that the folk of Mithil Stonedown have given you no cause to doubt that they are steadfast. Or I might
remark that I have beheld great wonders in your company, and would not willingly forego more. Or I might avow that the loveliness of the Land has only grown more precious to me as my senses have been opened. I have tasted with my eyes and hands and tongue the true glory of the world. To turn homeward now would be to pass from treasure-berries to dust.”

Linden wanted to protest, That's beside the point. We aren't talking about
aliantha
or dust. We're talking about slaughter or survival. But she restrained herself. She was tired of vehemence. And she had already lost Stave.

Instead she urged, “Then stay here. With the Ramen. You don't have to waste your life in a Fall.”

The young man shook his head. “You cannot ask it of me. For answer I will remind you of your own words.

“You said that at one time you encountered a man in need. Perhaps he sought to dissuade you from aiding him, as you now seek to dissuade me. If so, you refused. Yet you acknowledged that you could not have imagined what would follow. If you had indeed grasped the nature of your peril, you doubt that you would have been able to endure it. Because of your refusal to abandon him, however, you have become the Linden Avery who now wishes to spare me a similar peril.”

Gently he placed his hand on her shoulder; permitted himself to offer her that much of an embrace. “Do you not know that you are admirable in my sight? Can you not conceive that I have no desire to turn aside from your example? Your intent is not to destroy the Earth, but to redeem it, as you seek also to redeem your son. I will abide the outcome with you.”

Linden wept too easily. She always had. Touched by Liand's willingness, she blinked against the burn of tears in the corners of her eyes. Precisely because she hungered for hugs, however, she shrugged his hand away: his touch was not the one she craved. With her palms, she rubbed the moist salt from her cheeks. Then she did her best to match his trust.