Linden looked at Mistweave closely and was reassured. The Giant who had sought to serve her and believed that he had failed was injured and weary, his arm in a sling, bruises on his broad face; but much of his distress had faded. Perhaps he would never entirely forget his self-doubt. But he had redeemed most of it. The spirit within him was capable of peace.
She went to him because she wanted to thank him-and wanted to see him smile. He towered over her; but she was accustomed to that. Taking one of his huge bands in her small grasp, she said up to him. “Sevinhand's going to be the Master now. GaIewrath'll be the Anchormaster.” Deliberately, she risked this reference to Honninscrave's end. “Starfare's Gem will need a new Storesmaster. Someone who knows something about healing. Tell them I said you should have the job.”
Abruptly, he loomed over her, and she was swept into the embrace of his uninjured arm. For an instant, she feared that he was hurt and weeping; but then his emotions came into better focus, and she returned his clasp as hard as she could.
When he set her down again, he was grinning like a Giant.
“Begone, Mistweave,” the First muttered in a tone of gruff kindness. “Cail Haruchai will outdistance you entirely.”
In response, he shouted a laugh. “Outdistance a Giant? Not while I live!” With a holla to Pitchwife and a salute to Covenant and Linden, he snatched up his sack of supplies and dashed for the tunnel under the watchtower as if he intended to run all the way to Landsdrop rather than let Cail surpass him.
After that; nothing remained to delay the company. The First and Pitchwife shouldered their packs. Sunder and Hollian lifted the bundles they had prepared for themselves. For a moment Covenant looked around the stone of the forehall as though he feared to leave it, dreaded the consequences of the path he had chosen; but then his certitude returned. After saying a brief farewell to the Haruchai, and accepting their bows with as much grace as his embarrassment allowed, he turned his feet toward the sunlight beyond the broken gates. Vain and Findail took their familiar positions behind him-or behind Linden-as the company moved outward.
Gritting her teeth against the shock of the Sunbane on her bare nerves. Linden went back out into the desert sun.
Thirteen: The Eh-Brand
IT was worse than she had expected. It seemed worse than it had been that morning. Glimmermere's cleansing and Revelstone's protection appeared to have sharpened her health-sense, making her more vulnerable than ever to the rife ill of the Sunbane. The sun's heat felt as hard and heavy as stone. She knew it was not literally gnawing the flesh from her bones, not charring her bones to the malign blackness which she had inherited from her father. Yet she felt that she was being eaten away-that the Sunbane had found its likeness in her heart and was feeding on her.
During the long days when she and the quest had been away from the sun's corruption, she had groped toward a new kind of life. She had heard intimations of affirmation and had followed them urgently, striving to be healed. At one time, with the tale of her mother told for the first time and Covenant's arms about her, she had believed that she could say no forever to her own dark hungers. There is also love in the world. But now the desert sun flamed at her with the force of an execration, and she knew better.
In some ways, she was unable to share Covenant's love for the Land. She had never seen it healthy; she could only guess at the loveliness be ascribed to it. And to that extent he was alone in his dismay. There's only one way to hurt a man who's lost everything. Give him back something broken. Yet she was like the Land herself. The power tormenting it was the same might which demonstrated to her undefended nerves that she was not whole.
And she and her companions were on their way to confront Lord Foul, the source and progenitor of the Sunbane.
And they were only eight. In effect, they were only six: two Giants, two Stonedownors, Covenant and Linden, Vain and Findail could be trusted to serve no purposes but their own. With the sun burning against her face as it started its afternoon decline, she lost what little understanding she had ever had of Covenant's reasons for refusing the aid of the Haruchai. Their intransigent integrity at her side might have helped to keep the Sunbane out of her soul.
Mount Thunder lay to the east; but Covenant was leading the company west and south down through the dead foothills below the intricately-wrought face of the Keep. His intent, he explained, was to join the watercourse which had once been the White River and follow it toward Andelain. That was not the most direct path, but it would enable the company to do what Sunder, Linden, and he had done previously-to ride the river during a sun of rain. Recollections of cold and distress made Linden shiver, but she did not demur. She favoured any plan which might reduce the amount of time she had to spend exposed to the sun.
Above her rose the sheer, hard face of Revelstone. But some distance ahead. Furl Falls came tumbling down the side of the plateau; and its implications were comforting. Already, much of the potent water springing from the roots of Glimmermere had been denatured. Furl Falls was only a wisp of what it should have been. Yet it remained. Centuries of the Sunbane had not ruined or harmed the upland tarn. Through the brown heat and light of the sun. Furl Falls struck hints of blue like sparks from the rough rock of the cliff.
To the south, the hills spread away like a frown of pain in the ground, becoming slowly less rugged or perhaps less able to care what happened to them-as they receded from the promontory of the Westron Mountains. And between them wound the watercourse Covenant sought. Following what might once have been a road, he brought the company to an ancient stone bridge across the broad channel where the White River had stopped running. A trickle of water still stretched thinly down the centre of the riverbed; but even that moisture soon vanished into a damp, sandy stain. The sight of it made Linden thirsty with empathy, although she had eaten and drunk well before leaving Mhoram's quarters.
Covenant did not cross the bridge. For a moment, he glared at the small stream as if he were remembering the White River in full spate. Then, controlling his fear of heights with a visible effort, he found a way down into the riverbed. The last sun of rain had not left the channel smooth or clear, but its bottom offered an easier path than the hills on either side.
Linden, Sunder, and Hollian followed him. Pitchwife carne muttering after them. Vain leaped downward with a lightness which belied his impenetrability; on his wooden wrist and left ankle, the heels of the Staff of Law caught the sun dully. Findail changed shape and glided gracefully to the river bottom. But the First did not join the rest of the company. When Covenant looked back up at her, she said, “I will watch over you.” She gestured along the higher ground of the east bank. "Though you have mastered the Clave, some caution is needful. And the exertion will ease me. I am a Giant and eager, and your pace gives me impatience.”
Covenant shrugged. He seemed to think that he had become immune to ordinary forms of peril. But he waved his acceptance; and the First strode away at a brisk gait.
Pitchwife shook his head, bemused by his wife's sources of Strength. Linden saw a continuing disquiet in the unwonted tension of his countenance; but most of his unhappiness had sunk beneath the surface, restoring his familiar capacity for humour. “Stone and Sea!” he said to Covenant and Linden. “Is she not a wonder? Should ever we encounter that which can daunt her, then will I truly credit that the Earth is lost. But then only. For the while, I will study the beauty of her and be glad.” Turning, he started down the watercourse as if he wished his friends to think he had left his crisis behind.