The One Tree

his brother. Bearing Seadreamer in his arms, he permitted himself to be nudged toward the ledge after Covenant and Linden.

In silence, the questers trudged up out of the tomb of their dreams.

Tremors threatened them repeatedly during that hard ascent. The ledge pitched as if it sought to shrug them back into the gulf. Vibrations made the stone quiver like wounded flesh. At intervals, hunks of rock fell, striking out sharp resonations which scaled upward like cries of bereavement. But Linden was not afraid of that. She was hardly aware of the exertion of the climb. She felt that she could count the last drops of blood as they seeped around the knife in Covenant's chest.

When she gained the crest, looked out over the Isle and the wide sea, she was wanly surprised to see that the sun had fallen no lower than midafternoon. Surely the ruin of the quest had consumed more time than that? But it had not. Such damage was as sudden as an infarction. As abrupt as the collapse of the old man on the roadway into Haven Farm

Slowly, irresistibly, the violence in the rock continued to build. As she started downward, she saw that the slopes were marked with new scars where boulders and outcroppings had fallen away. The old sea had swallowed all the rubble without a trace.

The last throes of the Isle were rising. Though she was hardly able to walk without stumbling, she urged the company faster. It was her responsibility. Covenant was so Desecration-ridden, so despair-blind, that he would have plunged headlong if Cail had not supported him. She needed help herself; but Brinn was gone, the First and Pitchwife were occupied with Honninscrave, and Call's duty was elsewhere. So she carried her own weight and croaked at her companions for haste. As awkwardly as cripples, they raced the Worm's unrest downward.

Vain followed them as if nothing had changed. But his right hand dangled from the dead wood of his transformed forearm. The band of the Staff of Law on his wrist clasped the boundary between flesh and bark.

At last, they reached the longboat. Somehow, it had not been struck by any of the falling boulders. The companions lurched and thudded aboard as if they were in rout.

As the First shoved the craft out into the water, the entire eyot jumped. A large section of the crest crumbled inward. The sea heaved into deep waves, setting the longboat a-dance. But it rode out the spasms unscathed. Then the First and Pitchwife took the oars and rowed through the sunlight toward Starfare's Gem.

The next tremor toppled more of the Isle's crown. Wide pieces of the engirdling reef sank. After that, the convulsions became almost constant, raising immense exhalations of dust like spume from the island's throat. Impelled by heavy seas, the longboat moved swiftly to the side of the Giantship. In a short time, the company gained the decks. Everyone gathered along the port rail to watch the cairn of the One Tree go down.

It sank in a last tremendous upheaval. Chunks of the Isle jumped like flames as its foundations shattered. Then all the rock settled around the Worm's new resting-place; and the sea rushed into the gap. The waters rose like a great geyser, spread outward in deep undulations which made the dromond roll from side to side. But that was the end. Even the reef was gone. Nothing remained to mark the area except bubbles which broke the surface and then faded, leaving azure silence in their wake.

Slowly, the spectators turned back to their ship. When Linden looked past Vain toward Covenant, she saw Findail standing with him. She wanted to be angry at the Elohim, would have welcomed any emotion which might have sustained her. But the time for such things had passed. No expostulation would bring back Covenant's hope. The lines engraving the Appointed's face were as deep as ever; but now they seemed like scars of pity.

“I cannot ease your sorrow,” he said, speaking so softly that Linden barely heard him. “That attempt was made, and it failed. But one fear I will spare you. The One Tree is not destroyed. It is a mystery of the Earth. While the Earth endures, it too will endure in its way. Perhaps your guilts are indeed as many as you deem them — but that is one you need not bear.”

Findail's unexpected gentleness made Linden's eyes blur. But the pained slump of Covenant's shoulders, the darkness of his gaze, showed that he had passed beyond the reach of solace. In a voice like the last drops of blood, he replied, “You could've warned me. I almost-” The vision of what he had nearly done clogged his throat. He swallowed as if he wanted to curse and no longer had the strength. “I'm sick of guilt.”

Honninscrave remained huddled over Seadreamer. Sevinhand and Gale wrath looked to him for instructions; but he did not respond, did not notice them at all. After a brief pause of respect, the First told the Anchormaster what to do.

Wrapping his old melancholy about him, Sevinhand rallied the crew. The anchors were raised, the sails set. In a short time, Starfare's Gem swung away from the grave of the lost Isle and headed northward into the open sea.

But Covenant did not stay to watch. Bereft beyond redemption, he left his companions, shambled in the direction of his cabin. He was dying with a knife in his chest and no longer had any way to fight the Despiser. Linden understood. When he turned his back on her, she did not protest.

This was her life after all — as true to herself, to what she was and what she wanted to become, as the existence she had left behind on Haven Farm. The old man whose life she had saved there had said to her, You will not fail, however he may assail you. The choices she had made could not be taken from her.

And that was not all. She remembered what Covenant had told her about his Dead in Andelain. His friend, High Lord Mhoram, had said to him, Do not be deceived by the Land's need. The thing you seek is not what it appears to be. The same prophecy was true for her as well. Like Brinn, she had found something she had not come seeking. With Covenant after their escape from Bhrathairealm, she had let some light into the darkness of her heart. And in the cavern of the One Tree she had found a use for that part of herself-a use which was not evil.

Since Covenant could not bear it now, she accepted from him the burden of hope. You will not fail — Not while she still believed in him — and knew how to reach him.

Yet she did not try to keep the tears from her eyes. Too much had been lost. As she went to stand beside Honninscrave, she folded her arms over her heart and let the long grief of the quest settle in her bones.