something in his chest. But the First gave Covenant and Linden a nod of greeting. Her gaze was as grim as a hawk's. “You gladden me!” she muttered. “I had not thought to behold you again alive. It is well that these simple creatures do not glance often behind them. Thus we were able to follow when we had No Other Way foiled our pursuers. What dire rite do they seek to practice against you?”
Linden answered for Covenant, “They're trying to bring an old leader back from the dead. He's buried under there somewhere.” She grimaced at the Wightbarrow. “They want Covenant's blood and the ring. They think this dead leader'll free them from Foul. We've got to get out of here.”
“Aye,” growled the First. Her eyes assayed the Cavewights. “But they are too many. We cannot win free by combat. We must entrust ourselves to the sanctity of these bones.”
Covenant thought he smelted the faint reek of charring flesh. But he had no health-sense, could not tell how seriously the Giants hands were being hurt.
“My husband,” the First gritted, “will you lead us?”
Pitchwife nodded. A moment of coughing brought more blood to his lips. Yet he rallied. When he raised his head, the look in his eyes was as fierce as hers.
With a bone flaming like a brand in one hand, an axe in the other, he started toward the nearer mouth of the cave.
At once, a snarl sharpened the air, throbbing from many throats. A shiver ran through the Cavewights. The ones farthest from the Wightbarrow advanced slightly, placed themselves to block Pitchwife's path. Others tightened their hands on their weapons.
“No!” Linden snapped at Pitchwife. “Come back!”
He retreated. When he reached the mound, the Cavewights froze again.
Covenant blinked at Linden. He felt too dizzy to think. He knew he ought to understand what was happening. But it did not make sense.
“What means this. Chosen?” the First asked like iron. “Are we snared in this place for good and all?”
Linden replied with a look toward Covenant as if she were begging him for courage. Then, abruptly, she wrapped her arms around her chest and strode away from the mound.
The First breathed a sharp warning. Linden's head flinched from side to side. But she did not stop. Deliberately, she moved among the Cavewights.
She was alone and small and vulnerable in their midst. Her difficult bravery was no defence; any one of them could have felled her with one blow. But none of them reacted. She squeezed between two of them, passed behind a poised cluster, walked halfway to the cavemouth. Their eyes remained fixed on the First and Pitchwife-on the bones and the Wightbarrow.
As she moved, she raised her head, grew bolder. The vindication of her percipience fortified her. Less timorously, she made her way back to her companions.
Rocklight burned in Covenant's eyes. The First and Pitchwife stared at Linden. Grimly, she explained, “They won't move while you threaten the mound. They need it. It's their reason-the only answer they've got.” Then she faltered; and her gaze darkened at the implications of what she was saying. “That's why they won't let us take any of the bones out of here.”
For one momenta piece of time as acute as anguish-the First looked beaten, overcome by everything she had already lost and would still be required to lose. Honninscrave and Seadreamer had been dear to her. Pitchwife was her husband Covenant and Linden and life were precious. Her sternness broke down, exposing a naked hurt. Both her parents had. given their lives for her, and she had become what she was by grief.
Yet she was the First of the Search, chosen for her ability to bear hard decisions. Almost at once, her visage closed around itself. Her hands knotted as if they were hungry for the fire of the bones.
“Then,” she responded stiffly, “I must remain to menace this mould, so that you may depart.” She swallowed a lump of sorrow. “Pitchwife, you must accompany them. They will have need of your strength. And I must believe that you live.”
At that, Pitchwife burst into a spasm of coughing. A moment passed before Covenant realized that the malformed Giant was trying to laugh.
“My wife, you jest,” he said at last. “I have found my own reply to doubt. The Chosen has assigned me to your side. Do not credit that the song which the Giants will sing of this day will be sung of you alone.”
“I am the First of the Search!” she retorted. “I command- ”
“You are Gossamer Glowlimn, the spouse of my heart.” His mouth was bloody; but his eyes gleamed. “I am proud of you beyond all endurance. Demean not your high courage with foolishness. Neither Earthfriend nor Chosen has any need of my accompaniment. They are who they are-and will not fail. I am sworn to you in love and fealty, and I will remain.”
She glared at him as if she were in danger of weeping openly. “You will
“No.” Around Covenant, the rock seemed to spin and fade as if Mount Thunder itself were on the verge of dissolution; but he clung to the centre of his mortality and stood certain, an alloy in human flesh and bone of wild magic and venom, life and death. “No,” he repeated when the First and Pitchwife met his gaze. “There's no reason for either of you to die. It won't take long. Kiril Threndor can't be very far from here. All I have to do is get there. Then it'll be over, one way or the other. All you have to do is hang on until I get there.”
Then Pitchwife did laugh, and his face lifted with gladness. “There, my wife!” he chortled. “Have I not said that they are who they are? Accept that I am with you, and be content.” Abruptly, he dropped his axe. drew out his last fagot and lit ft from the Wightbarrow, handed the sputtering wood to Linden. “Begone!” he gleamed, “ere I become maudlin at the witnessing of such valour. Fear nothing for us. We will hold and hold until the mountain itself is astonished, and still We will hold. Begone. I say!”
“Aye, begone,” growled the First as if she were angry; but her tears belied her tone. “I must have opportunity to instruct this Pitchwife in the obedience which is his debt to me First of the Search.”
Covenant wanted words, but none came to hum. What could he have said? He had made his promises long ago, and they covered everything. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes to clear his sight Then he turned toward Linden, If he had spoken, he would have asked her to stay with the Giants. He had never forgotten the shock of her intervention in the woods behind Haven Farm. And he had not loved her then. Now everything was multiplied to the acuteness of panic. He did not know how he might preserve the bare shreds and tatters of dignity-not to mention clear courage or conviction-if she accompanied him.
But the look of her silenced him. She was baffled and perceptive, frightened and brave; terrified of Cavewights and Lord Foul, and yet avid for a chance to stand against them; mortal, precious, and irrefusable. Her face had lost its imposed severity, had become in spite of wear and strain as soft as her mouth and eyes. Yet its underlying structure remained precise, indomitable. The sad legacy of her parents had led her to what she was-but the saddest thing about her was that she did not understand how completely she had transformed that legacy, had made of herself something necessary and admirable. She deserved a better outcome than this. But he had nothing else to offer her.
She held his gaze as if she wanted to match him-and feared she could not. Then she tightened her grip on her torch and stepped out among the clenched Cavewights.
She had read them accurately: any threat to the Wightbarrow outweighed all other considerations. When Covenant left the First and Pitchwife, a raw muttering aggravated the rocklight. Several Cavewights shifted their positions, raised their weapons. But the First poised one foot to begin scattering the mound; and the creatures went rigid again Covenant let weakness and fear and pain carry him like hope toward the mouth of the cave.
“Go well, Earthfriend.” the First breathed after them, “hold faith. Chosen,” as if she had become impervious to doubt. Pitchwife's faint chuckling was torn and frayed; but it followed Covenant and Linden like an affirmation of contentment.
Barely upright on his feet Covenant made his way past the Cavewights. Their eyes flamed outrage and loss at him; but they did not take the risk of striking out. The cave narrowed to a tunnel at its end, and Linden began to hurry. He did his best to keep up with her. The vulnerable place between his shoulder-blades seemed to feel the Cavewights turning to hurl their truncheons; but he entrusted himself to the Giants, did not look back. In a moment, he left the rocklight behind. Linden's torch led him back into the darkness of the catacombs.
At the first intersection, she turned as if she knew where she was going Covenant caught up with her, put his hand on her arm to slow her somewhat She acceded, but continued to bear herself as though she were being
