White Gold Wielder

still think you love him? Are you that arrogant? What good have you ever done him? None of this would've happened if you hadn't been so eager to rule the dead as well as the living.”

Her denunciation pierced the former High Lord. Elena tried to reply, tried to defend herself; but no words came. She had broken the Law of Death. The blame of the Sunbane was as much hers as Covenant's. Stricken and grieving, she wavered, lost force, and went out. leaving a momentary afterglow of silver in the ram.

But Linden had already turned on Banner.

“And you, You with your bloody self-righteousness. You promised him service. Is that what you call this? Your people are sitting on their hands in Revelstone when they should be here! Hollian was killed because they didn't come with us to fight those ur- viles. Caer-Caveral is dead and it's only a matter of time before Andelain starts to rot. But never mind that. Aren't you satisfied with letting Kevin ruin the Land once?” She flung the back of her hand in Covenant's direction. “They should be here to slop him!”

Banner had no answer. He cast a glance like an appeal at Covenant; then he, too, faded away. Around the hollow, the darkness deepened.

Fuming, Linden swung toward FoamfoIIower.

“Linden, no,” Covenant grated. “Stop this.” He was close to fire. She could feel the burning in his veins. But his demand did not make her pause. He had no right to speak to her. His Dead had betrayed him-and now he meant to betray the Land.

“And you, Pure One! You at least I would've expected to care about him more than this. Didn't you learn anything from watching your people die, seeing that Raver rip their brains out? Do you think desecration is desirable?” The Giant flinched. Savagely, she went on, “You could've prevented this. If you hadn't given him Vain. If you hadn't tried to make him think you were giving him hope, when what you were really doing was teaching him to surrender. You've got him believing he can afford to give in because Vain or some other miracle is going to save the world anyway. Oh, you're Pure all right. Foul himself isn't that Pure.”

“Chosen-” FoamfoIIower murmured, “Linden Avery-” as if he wanted to plead with her and did not know how. “Ah, forgive-The Landwaster has afflicted you with this pain. He does not comprehend. The vision which he lacked in life is not supplied in death. The path before you is the way of hope and doom, but he perceives only the outcome of his own despair. You must remember that he has been made to serve the Despiser. The ill of such service darkens his spirit Covenant, hear me. Chosen, forgive!”

Shedding gleams in fragments, he disappeared into the dark.

“Damnation!” Covenant rasped. “Damnation!” But now his curses were not directed at Linden. He seemed to be swearing at himself. Or at Kevin.

Transported out of all restraint. Linden turned at last to Mhoram.

“And you,” she said, as quiet as venom. “You. They called you ‘seer and oracle.' That's what I've heard. Every time I turn around, he tells me he wishes you were with him. He values you more than anyone.” Her anger and grief were one, and she could not contain them. Fury that Covenant had been so misled; tearing me that he trusted her too little to share his burdens, that he preferred despair and destruction to any love or companionship which might ease his responsibilities. “You should have told him the truth.”

The Dead High Lord's eyes shone with silver tears yet he did not falter or vanish. The regret he emitted was not for himself: it was for her. And perhaps also for Covenant. An aching smile twisted his mouth. “Linden Avery”- he made her name sound curiously rough and gentle- “you gladden me. You are worthy of him. Never doubt that you may justly stand with him in the trial of all things. You have given sorrow to the Dead. But when they have bethought themselves of who you are, they will be likewise gladdened. Only this I urge of you: strive to remember that he also is worthy of you.”

Formally, he touched his palms to his forehead, then spread his arms wide in a bow that seemed to bare his heart. “My friends!” he said in a voice that rang, “I believe that you will prevail!”

Still bowing, he dissolved into the rain and was gone. Linden stared after him dumbly. Under the cool touch of the drizzle, she was suddenly hot with shame.

But then Covenant spoke. “You shouldn't have done that.” The effort he made to keep himself from howling constricted his voice. “They don't deserve it.”

ln response, Kevin's Must! shouted through her, leaving no room for remorse. Mhoram and the others belonged to Covenant's past, not hers. They had dedicated themselves to the ruin of everything for which she had ever learned to care. From the beginning, the breaking of the Law of Death had served only the Despiser. And it served him still.

She did not turn to Covenant. She feared that the mere shape of him, barely discernible through the dark, would make her weep like the Hills. Harshly, she replied, “That's why you did it, isn't it. Why you made the Haruchai stay behind. After what Kevin did to the Bloodguard, you knew they would try to stop you.”

She felt him strive for self mastery and fail. He had met his Dead with an acute and inextricable confusion of pain and Joy which made him vulnerable now to the cut of her passion. “You know better than that,” he returned. “What in hell did Kevin say to you?”

Bitter as the breath of winter, she rasped, “I'll never give him the ring. Never.” How many times do you think you said that? How many times did you promise-?” Abruptly, she swung around, her arms raised to strike out at him or toward him away. “You incredible bastard!” She could not see him, but her senses picked him precisely out of the dark. He was as rigid and obdurate as an icon of purpose carved of raw granite hurt. She had to rage at him in order to keep herself from crying out in anguish. “Next to you, my father was a hero. At least he didn't plan to kill anybody but himself.” Black echoes hosted around her, making the night heinous. “Haven't you even got the guts to go on living?”

“Linden.” She felt intensely how she pained him, how every word she spat hit him like a gout of vitriol. Yet instead of fighting her he strove for some comprehension of what had happened to her. “What did Kevin say to you?”

But she took no account of his distress. He meant to betray her. Well, that was condign: what had she ever done to deserve otherwise? But his purpose would also destroy the Earth-a world which in spite of all corruption and malice still nurtured Andelain at its heart, still treasured Earthpower and beauty. Because he had given up. He had walked into the Banefire as if he knew what he was doing-and he had let the towering evil burn the last love out of him. Only pretence and mockery were left.

“You've been listening to Findail,” she flung at him. “He's convinced you it's better to put the Land out of its misery than to go on fighting. I was terrified to tell you about my mother because I thought you were going to hate me. But this is worse. If you hated me, I could at least hope you might go on fighting.”

Then sobs thronged up in her. She barely held them back.

“You mean everything to me. You made me live again when I might as well have been dead. You convinced me to keep trying. But you've decided to give up.” The truth was as plain as the apprehension which etched him out of the wet dark. “You're going to give Foul your ring.”

At that, a stinging pang burst from him. But it was not denial. She read it exactly. It was fear. Fear of her recognition. Fear of what she might do with the knowledge.

“Don't say it like that,” he whispered. “You don't understand.” He appeared to be groping for some name with which to conjure her, to compel acquiescence-or at least an abeyance of judgment “You said you trusted me.”

“You're right,” she answered, grieving and weeping and raging all at once. “I don't understand.”

She could not bear any more. Whirling from him, she fled into the rain. He cried after her as if something within him were being torn apart; but she did not stop.

Sometime in the middle of the night, the drizzle took on the full force of a summer storm. A cold, hard downpour pelted the Hills; wind sawed at the boughs and brush. But Linden did not seek shelter. She did not want to be protected Covenant had already taken her too far down that road, warded her too much from. the truth. Perhaps he feared her-was ashamed of what he meant to do and so sought to conceal it. But during the dark night of Andelain she did him the justice of acknowledging that he had also tried to protect her for her own sake-first from involvement in Joan's distress and the Land's need, then from the impact of Lord Foul's evil, then from the