Somehow she struck a vital nerve-centre, perhaps the monster’s brain. Spasming frantically, the skurj toppled down the stones. When its bulk collided with another creature, that beast tumbled as well.

Giants began to shout the Seven Words: a cacophony of invocation.

It was not enough.

Grinding her teeth, Linden demanded, “And if he does? If the Harrow offers me a bargain that I can live with? Will he save my friends? Can he rescue all of us?”

Esmer snorted contemptuously. “Doubtless he is able to do so. He will not. He need not. He cares naught for your companions. Knowing where your son is imprisoned, he requires no other suasion. He will not hazard himself for any cause other than white gold and the Staff of Law. If you insist upon the salvation of your companions, he will merely await a later opportunity to acquire your powers.

“The might of wild magic will be diminished if it is not ceded voluntarily. That he will regret. Nevertheless this plight serves his ends also.”

Bhapa and Pahni hovered uselessly over Anele. When they could, they threw stones at the skurj. The old man made mewling noises deep in his throat. His hands clutched at granite and basalt as if he thought that the broken rocks might redeem him.

Emulating Grueburn, Onyx Stonemage ducked under a blaze of fangs and thrust her sword like a spear behind the beast’s jaws. But she missed her target. In a vast roar of pain and blood, the skurj struck at her; slammed her to the jagged stones.

For a moment, her armour blocked the monster’s bite. At the same time, however, the beast’s fury twisted her blade within its wound. Before her cataphract failed, her thrust became a killing stroke. The skurj recoiled, seized by death. Its blood drenched her, stinking like offal, as the creature fell.

Two skurj were dead. At least one had been badly wounded.

Too many remained.

Stave joined the Humbled. Together they hurled a barrage of rock. Risking her whole arm, Cabledarm succeeded at chopping one huge maw into a grin that could not close by cutting through the muscles at both corners of the jaw. With a volcanic howl, the skurj lurched away. A froth of vile blood spattered the tor.

“But he knows where Jeremiah is,” Linden insisted, panting urgently. “Isn’t that why you tried to suck him into a Fall? To keep him from helping me rescue my son?”

Esmer groaned. “It is. It was.” His pleading became a kind of frenzy. “Your son is beyond price. But if you will forswear your purpose in Andelain, the threat to Kastenessen is diminished. Therefore your son’s worth declines. The Harrow will serve Kastenessen’s desires, though he intends only his own glory. It cannot be otherwise when wild magic and Law are wielded by greed and aggrandisement.”

Kastenessen’s desires are not the Despiser’s.

Others will oppose your efforts to retrieve your son. I will not!

The ruddy hue of burning over the tor began to change. It grew pale. White brilliance reflected in the seethe and misery of Esmer’s gaze. Through a fever of concentration, Linden felt Earthpower rise behind her.

The ur-viles and Waynhim jerked up their heads, scented the fraught air. Barking fervidly, they left Linden and Esmer. On all fours, they scampered to surround Liand.

The Stonedownor was calling up the light of his orcrest. He would draw the skurj to him; distract them-

But he was doing something else as well. Linden’s attention nearly snapped when she realised that he was also summoning power from the Staff. Or summoning the Staff’s strength through the Sunstone. By instinct or health-sense, he had tuned the Staffs resources to the specific pitch and possibility of his orcrest.

The Staff appeared to give him only a small portion of its potential. He lacked Linden’s organic relationship with the runed black wood; and he had no experience. But in a mere handful of days, he had become intimately familiar with his piece of orcrest. Now he used Linden’s Staff to feed the Sunstone, enhance its distinctive theurgy-and to reinforce his stone so that it would not be shattered by the magicks which he demanded from it.

Linden did not know what he had in mind. He had told her nothing. Nevertheless she understood that he was not merely trying to attract or disturb the skurj. He meant to attempt something far more ambitious-

Kevin’s Dirt would hinder him as it did her.

Liand! Fearing the hunger of the monsters, she nearly shouted at him to stop. But she fought down the impulse. All of her companions were about to die. Her own death was no more than moments away. She could not afford to reject any gambit that might confuse or slow the skurj.

All who live share the Land’s plight. Its cost will be borne by all who live.

She had to let Liand take his own risks.

Perhaps the Demondim-spawn would protect him-

Like an act of violence against herself, Linden closed her mind to Liand. Instead she told Esmer. “Then you still have to answer my question. Why don’t you want me in Andelain? I’m not going to ‘forswear’ anything until I know what’s at stake.”

“Because you are not needed!” Esmer cried in stymied supplication. “There is no peril in Andelain! The skurj cannot enter among the Hills. Kastenessen himself cannot. Caesures do not form there. When Thomas Covenant’s ring returned to the Land, Loric’s krill was roused from its slumber. Its might wards the Hills. And other beings also act in Andelain’s defence. The skurj are turned aside. Kastenessen is shunned. Disturbances of time dissipate.

“Andelain is preserved,” Esmer asserted frantically. “It has no need of you.”

Linden heard him with a surge of joy and despair. Andelain was safe-! If she and her companions could cross four more leagues, they, too, would be protected.

But the distance was too great. They would die on this pile of rocks. None of them would leave its crown alive.

Behind her, the ur-viles and Waynhim growled an indecipherable incantation. Her nerves felt a streak of dank power, black and vitriolic, as the loremaster produced a dagger with a blade that resembled molten iron.

One dagger. The dark lore of all the Waynhim and ur-viles combined could not make one dagger potent enough to ward Liand.

What did he hope to accomplish?

Unable to jump back quickly enough, Galesend dove under an attack; pitched herself headlong down the tearing rocks of the mound’s slope. The creature’s jaws tried to follow her. But Mahrtiir was screaming the Seven Words. And while the beast hesitated, Stave threw rock after rock into its gullet, coercing it to swallow, and swallow again.

In that respite, Galesend regained her feet. Battered and bleeding, she plunged her sword into the monster’s hide to cut an opening. Then she shoved her arm to the shoulder into its fire. Though she cried out in pain, she probed within the skurj, seeking some essential organ or artery which her fingers could crush.

Coldspray seemed to hack in all directions. Cabledarm, Grueburn, and the other Giants fought like titans; delivered an avalanche of blows. Even Kindwind gave battle, kicking heavily while she clutched her severed arm to slow the bleeding. Stave and Mahrtiir and the Humbled laboured everywhere, hurling rocks and interruptions.

Still monsters mounted the tor, as unrelenting as seas.

“That still isn’t an answer!” Linden shouted, nearly wailing in frustration and terror. Come on, you sick bastard! Tell me something I can use! “It doesn’t explain why you and Kastenessen and Roger,” and Sunder and Hollian. “don’t want me to go there.”

Find me, Covenant had urged her. Find me.

Remember that I’m dead.

Esmer writhed as if he were being torn apart. “Are you blind, Wildwielder?” Excoriation and horror bled from his eyes; his wounds. His shredded cymar fluttered in a kind of ecstasy. “Do you comprehend nothing? We fear you.

“We fear what you may attempt with the krill. All the Earth fears it, every discerning or lorewise being among the living and the Dead. Even those who crave the destruction of life and Time fear it. The Harrow fears it, though doubtless he will feign otherwise. We cannot perceive your purpose. We know only your grief and your great rage. Thus we are assured that your intent is

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