The One Tree

you from this place. Our way will be neither easy nor unjeopardous, but it will spare you the whims of tyrants.”

But the Lady Alif had found strengths in herself which appeared to surprise her. “You speak truly,” she said as if in wonder at her own audacity. “Bhrathairealm will not be what it was. And I have forgotten the trick of taking joy in the whims of tyrants. But now there will be work for any who no longer love the gaddhi. And I possess some of the secrets of the Sandhold. That knowledge may be of service to those who do not wish to replace one Rant Absolain with another.” She stood erect in her tattered robes, a woman who had at last come into her heart's estate. “I thank you for what you have offered-and for what you have wrought this night. But I will depart now. The Spikes are warded. Be wary.”

“Lady!” the First called after her; but she had already retreated into the dark, and the shadows along the parapets had swallowed her. Gently, the First sighed, “Go well. There is hope and beauty for any folk who give birth to such as you.” But no one heard her except Linden and Pitchwife.

Shivering to herself, Linden turned back toward the Harbour in time to see Dawngreeter burning like a torch.

Faintly, she descried Giants in the rigging. They cut loose the sail, sent it fluttering like a wounded bird into the sea. Before the light ended, they were busy clewing another sail to the yards.

The dromond had left more damage in its wake. One of the penteconters and a galleass had collided side-to-side. Many of the penteconter's oars were shattered; and that wreckage made a shambles of the galleass's decks, crippling the catapult. While the three remaining vessels scrambled to renew their attack, Starfare's Gem rode the night breeze toward open water.

“Now!” the First snapped, breaking the fixed attention of her comrades. “We must make speed toward the Spikes. The Giantship will gain them with fire and pursuit at its back. It must not be asked to delay there for our coming.”

Shadows of fear and wrath obscured Honninscrave's face; but he did not pause. Though he could not keep his gaze from the Harbour, he swung northward, broke into a trot.

Assuming that she would be obeyed, the First followed him.

But Linden hesitated. She was already exhausted. Ceer's death was slowly encrusting her pants, and she did not know what had become of Covenant. The things she had done left a metallic taste of horror in her mouth. First Hergrom and now Ceer. Like her mother. The doctors had refused to accept responsibility for her mother's death, and now she was a doctor, and she had tried to kill Ceer. Covenant was gone.

While the First fled, Linden turned back toward the Sandhold, hunting for any sign of power which would indicate that Covenant was still alive.

There was nothing. The donjon hunched against the night sky like a ruin. Behind its pale walls, it was full of a darkness which the moon could not assuage. The only discernible life was the life of the sirens. They squalled as if their rage would never be appeased.

Her right arm hung at her side as if she had taken Covenant's leprosy upon herself. Stiffly, she started toward the Sandhold.

Cail caught her by the arm, swung her around as if he meant to strike her. But Pitchwife and Seadreamer had not left her. Pitchwife's eyes burned as he slapped Cail's grasp away from her. A distant part of her wondered if she were going to lose her arm. With a gesture, Pitchwife summoned Seadreamer. At once, the mute Giant lifted her into his embrace. Carrying her as he had carried her through Sarangrave Flat, he went in pursuit of Honninscrave and the First.

Gradually, the sirens faded into the distance. The company was moving faster than Covenant would ever be able to follow. If he were still able to follow at all. The rims of her right shoulder ached dimly, like the shock after an amputation. When she looked up, she saw nothing but the long scar like a slash of old moonlight under Seadreamer's eyes. The position in which he held her blocked Starfare's Gem's progress from view. She had been reduced to this and lacked even the strength for protest.

She was taken by surprise when Seadreamer abruptly wheeled back to the south and halted. The other Giants had also stopped. Cail stood poised on the balls of his feet. They all peered into the vague light toward Vain-or something beyond Vain.

Then she heard it: hooves beating the stone of the Sandwall. Iron-shod hooves, many of them. Twisting in Seadreamer's grasp, she saw a massed cluster of shadows pour forward. They appeared to surge and seethe as they galloped.

“Honninscrave,” the First said like iron, “you and Seadreamer must continue to the Spikes. Bear the Chosen and Cail Haruchai with you. Pitchwife and I will do what we may to ward you.”

Neither brother protested. No Giant of the Search could have refused her when she used that tone. Slowly, Honninscrave and Seadreamer withdrew. After only a fraction of hesitation, Cail also retreated. Vain moved to stay with Linden. Together, the First and Pitchwife stood to meet the gaddhi's Horse.

But soon both Honninscrave and Seadreamer stopped. Linden felt Seadreamer's muscles yearning toward the First. Honninscrave clenched himself as if he did not know how to abandon a comrade. Caught between conflicting needs, they watched the mounted soldiers pound forward.

The First held her falchion in her hands and waited. Pitchwife hunched forward with his hands braced on his knees, gathering breath and strength for battle. In the immanent silver of the light, they looked like colossal icons, numinously silent and puissant.

Then a command was barked in the Bhrathair tongue. The horses bunched to a halt. Sparks squealed between iron and stone.

While the others stopped, one of the mounts came dancing with froth on its lips to confront the Giants. A familiar voice said, “First of the Search, I salute you. Who would have believed you capable of so casting Bhrathairealm into chaos?”

The First made a warning sign with the tip of her sword. “Rire Grist,” she said in a voice of quiet danger. “Return whence you have come. I do not desire to shed more blood.”

The Caitiffin's mount fought its bit; he controlled the frightened animal roughly. “You mistake me.” His urbane diplomacy was gone. He sounded now like a soldier, and his tone held a note of eagerness, “Had I possessed the wisdom to take your true measure, I would have aided you earlier.” A note of ambition. “Kasreyn is dead. The gaddhi is little better than a madman. I have come to escort you to the Spikes, that at least you may hope for your vessel in safety.”

The First's blade did not waver. Softly, she asked, “Will you rule Bhrathairealm, Caitiffin?”

“If I do not, another will.”

“Perhaps,” she pursued. “Yet why do you seek to aid us?”

He had his answer ready. “I wish the goodwill of the tale you will bear to other lands. And I wish also that you should begone swiftly, that I may set about my work free of powers I can neither comprehend nor master.”

He paused, then added with palpable sincerity, “Moreover, I am grateful. Had you failed, I would not have endured long in Kasreyn's favour. Perhaps I would have been given to the Sandgorgons.” A shudder tinged his voice. “Gratitude has meaning to me.”

The First considered him for a moment. Then she demanded, “If you speak sooth, call back the warships which harry our dromond.'”

His horse flinched. He wrestled with it momentarily before he answered. “That I cannot do.” He was taut with strain. “They obey the sirens, which I know not how to silence. I have no means to make myself heard at such a distance.”

As if involuntarily, the First looked out into the Harbour. There, the swift trireme had forced Starfare's Gem to turn. The Giantship sailed broadside to the galleass, exposed for attack. The penteconter was closing rapidly.

“Then I require evidence of your good faith.” For an instant, her voice quivered; but she quickly smothered her concern with sternness. “You must send your command back to the Sandhold in search of Thomas Covenant. Those who oppose him must be stopped. He must have a mount, that he may overtake us with all haste. And you must accompany us alone. You will provide for our safety at the Spikes. And from that vantage you will seek means to be heard by these warships.” Her threat was as plain as her blade.