He could see nothing: the night was as black as Vain. AH the lanterns seemed to have been blown out. When he located a point of light hanging near Shipsheartthew, it showed him only that the wheeldeck had been abandoned. But shouts of command and desperation came from the direction of the prow. Gripping Cail's shoulder because he could not keep his footing on the ice Covenant laboured forward.
At first, he followed the sound of Honninscrave's bellow, the First's iron orders. Then lanterns began to appear as Giants called for light so that they could see their way amid the snarled wreckage which crowded the vessel's foredeck.
In a prodigious tangle of sundered canvas and gear, pulleys and lines, sprawled several thick stone beams-the two upper spars and a section of the foremast The great trunk of the mast had been broken in half. One of the fallen spars was intact; me other lay in three jagged pieces. At every step, the Giants kicked through slivers of granite.
Four crewmembers were crumpled in the wreckage.
The lantern-light was so wan, cast so many shadows, that Covenant could not see if any of them were still alive.
The First had her sword in her fist. Wielding it as deftly as a dagger, she cut through shrouds and sails toward the nearest of the fallen Giants. Galewrath and several others attacked the same task with their knives.
Sevinhand started into the wreckage. Honninscrave called him back, sent him instead to muster hands at the pumps Covenant felt the dromond sinking dangerously; but he had no time for that fear. Through the din, he shouted at Cail, “Get Linden”
“She has consumed much diamondraught,” the Haruchai replied. “She will not be lightly roused.” His tone was impersonal.
“I don't care!” snapped Covenant. “We're going to need her!”
Whirling away, he flung himself in the wake of the First.
She was crouched beside a limp form. As Covenant reached her, she surged erect again. Her eyes echoed the lanterns hotly. Darkness lay along her blade like blood. “Cornel” she rasped. “We can do nothing here.” Her sword sliced into the piled canvas with a sound like a cry.
Covenant glanced at the Giant she had left. The crewmember was a young woman he remembered-a grinning sailor with a cheerful determination to be always in the forefront of any work or hazard. He recognized half her face: the rest had been crushed by the broken butt of the mast.
For a moment, the dark came over him. Bereft of light, he blundered into the wreckage and could not fight free. But then he felt venom rise like bile in his throat, felt worms of fire begin to crawl down his forearm; and the shock steadied him. He had nearly let the wild destruction slip. Cursing, he stumbled after the First again.
A stolid shout reported that Galewrath had found another of the injured Giants dead Covenant forced himself to go faster, as if his haste might keep the other crewmembers alive. But the First had already left behind a third corpse, a man with an arm long splinter of stone driven through the base of his throat In a fever of suppressed fire Covenant thrashed onward.
Galewrath and the First converged on the last Giant with Honninscrave and Covenant following closely.
The face of this Giant was less familiar to him. She had never been brought specifically to his notice. But that did not matter. He cared only that she was alive.
Her breath came in hoarse wet heaves: black fluid ran from the comer of her mouth, formed a pool under her head. The bulk of the one unsnapped spar lay across her chest, crushing her to the hard deck. Both her forearms were broken.
The First slapped her longsword into its scabbard. Together, she and Galewrath bent to the beam, tried to lift it But the huge spar was far too heavy for them. Its ends were trapped: one stretched under the fallen mast; the other was snared in a mountain of gear and canvas.
Galewrath went on straining at the beam as if she did not know how to admit defeat. But the First swung upright, and her voice rang out over the deck, demanding help.
Giants were already on their way. Several of them veered toward the mast, fought to clear it so that they could roll it off the spar; others slashed into the wreckage at the far end with their knives.
There was little time. The life was being squeezed out of the pinned Giant: it panted from her mouth in damp shallow gasps. Her face was intense with pain.
No! Covenant panted in response. No. Thrusting himself forward, he cried through the clamour, “Get back! I'm going to break this thing off her!”
He did not wait to see whether he was obeyed. Wrapping his arms as far as he could around the bole of the spar, be brought up white fire to tear the stone apart.
With a fierce yell, Honninscrave wrenched Covenant from the spar, shoved him away.
“Honninscrave-!” the First began, “I must have this spar whole!” roared the Master. His beard jutted fury and aggrievement outlining his jaw. “Starfare's Gem cannot endure any sea with but one mast!” The plight of his ship consumed him. “If Pitchwife can mend this shaft by any amount, then I must have a spar to bold sail He cannot remake the Giantship entire”
For an instant, he and the First confronted each other furiously Covenant fought to keep himself from howling.
Then a groan and thud of granite shook the deck as four or five Giants rolled the mast off the end of the spar.
At once, the First and Honninscrave sprang to work. With Galewrath and every Giant who could lay hand to the beam, they pitted their strength against the spar.
The long stone shaft lifted like an ordinary timber in their arms.
As the weight left her, the crushed crewmember let out a shredded moan and lost consciousness.
Immediately, Galewrath crouched under the yard to her. Clamping one hand under the woman's chin, the other at the back of her head to minimize the risk of further injuring a broken spine, the Storesmaster drew her comrade from beneath the spar to a small clear space in the middle of the wreckage.
Covenant gaped at them half wittedly, trembling as if he had been snatched from the brink of an act of desecration.
Swiftly, Galewrath examined the crushed woman. But the fragmentary light of the lanterns made her appear tentative. hampered by hesitation and uncertainty. She was the dromond's healer and knew how to treat any hurt that she could see; but she had no way to correct or even evaluate such severe internal damage. And while she faltered, the woman was slipping out of reach.
Covenant tried to say Linden's name. But at that moment a group of Giants came through the shambles carrying lanterns. Mistweave and Cail were among them. Mistweave bore Linden.
She lay in his arms as if she were still asleep-as if the diamondraught’s hold over her could not be breached by any desperation.
But when he set her on her feet. her eyes fluttered open. Groggily, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulled it back from her face. Shadows glazed her eyes; she looked like a woman who was walking in her dreams. A yawn stretched her mouth. She appeared unaware of the pain sprawling at her feet.
Then abruptly she sank down beside the dying Giant as though her knees had failed. She bowed her head, and her hair swung forward to hide her face again.
Rigid with useless impatience, the First clenched her fists on her hips. Galewrath glared back at the lamps. Honninscrave turned away as if he could not bear the sight, began whispering commands. His tone made the crew obey with alacrity.
Linden remained bowed over the Giant as if she were praying. The noise of the crew in the wreckage, the creaking of the dromond's granite, the muffled crackle of ice made what she was saying inaudible. Then her voice came into clearer focus.