The Runes of the Earth

And there was something else in the old man, another ill in addition to his arthritis and his instability. When Linden first became aware of it, she could not define it. But then he groaned, stirred, and raised his head; and she saw that he was blind.

He had a face like a broken rock, all ragged edges and rough planes, softened by an old tangle of neglected beard and a patina of ingrained grime. His mouth resembled a crack in dried mud.

And above it, his eyes were the milky colour of moonstone, devoid of iris or pupil. She thought at first that he suffered from cataracts; but when she looked more closely, she realised that his sightlessness ran deeper. His mind itself appeared to have rejected vision. In some way-perhaps by Earthpower-he had blinded himself.

With the Staff of Law she might have been able to heal him. She could certainly have eased his arthritis. But with Covenant’s ring? She had used its power on herself successfully. Yet she hardly knew how she had done so. And she had been guided by her instinctive awareness of her condition. For this tattered old man-

She had little experience with wild magic; was not even sure that she could call it up at will. And it was called wild magic for a reason: it tended always toward increase; rampant flame; chaos. After his confrontation with the Banefire, Covenant had turned his back on the use of such power. He had feared that it would tower beyond the reach of his restraint: that it would rage and grow until it shattered Time, and the Despiser was set free.

Linden’s control would not be delicate enough to help the abused figure in front of her.

If he had rejected sight, he might not want to be helped.

Nevertheless she was a physician: she wished to succour him in some way, despite the desperation of her circumstances-and, apparently, of his. Putting aside the surprise of his presence, she cleared her throat, then said cautiously, “Don’t try to move. You’re too weak-and this place isn’t exactly safe. I’m here. I’ll try to help you “

In response, he faced her with his blind eyes and broken mien. “Protect Anele.” His voice was a cracked whisper, hoarse with exhaustion, uncertain with disuse. “Protect-”

“I will,” she answered without hesitation. “I want to. I’ll do what I can. But-”

Who or what was Anele?

As if she had not spoken, he moaned, “They search for him. It pursues him. Always he is pursued. If they take him, he will not be able to escape it. His last hope. Poor Anele, who has lost his birthright and harms no one. His sacred trust-” He reached one trembling hand toward her. “Protect.”

A sound like a dusty sob escaped from his chest.

“I will” she said again, more strongly. “You aren’t alone.” She had too many questions-and he was plainly in no state to answer them. “We’re in danger here. I don’t trust this stone. And the only way down is the same way you came up. But I’m sure there’s something I can do.”

Covenant’s ring would serve her somehow.

“Power,” the old man croaked, “yes. Anele feels it. He climbed to find it.”

On his knees, he shuffled toward her, groping with his gnarled hand until he touched her arm. Then, however, his hand flinched away as if he feared to presume-or feared the sensation of contact.

“They search for him,” he offered abjectly, “but Anele tricks them. They can be tricked, a little.” Again he touched her arm, appealing to her-and flinched back. “But it is not tricked. It knows where Anele is. It pursues him. If it takes him-

“Ah!” he cried out weakly, “lost! All lost.” Another sob broke his voice. “Anele climbed high. His last trick. If it comes close, he will jump and die.”

His distress twisted Linden’s heart. “Anele,” she responded, sure now of his name, “listen to me. I’m here. I’ll do everything I can. Don’t jump.”

She had already felt too much falling.

His hand fumbled toward her and away as though he feared to believe her. “Lost,” he said again. “All lost.”

“I understand,” she told him, although she did not; could not. “I’m here. Whatever happens, you aren’t alone.”

He gaped at her blindly as if she were the one deranged, not he.

“But I need-” she began. Then, however, she hesitated. She hardly knew where to start. Even if he had been sane, she would not have known which question to ask first. She had to guess at the things he might be able to answer.

But she had spent years dealing with damaged minds. She had learned how to probe them gently. “You’re Anele?” she inquired quietly. “That’s your name?” Begin with something concrete. Unthreatening.

He nodded as if in confirmation.

“And you have enemies?” A frail old man in his condition? “What do they want?”

What was it?

His white eyes stared at her. “They seek to catch Anele. Imprison him. They are terrible, terrible everywhere. It will take him. They can be tricked. It is not tricked.”

His reply explained nothing. She tried a different approach. “Why does it pursue you? Why do they?”

“Ah!” Anele broke into a low wail. “His birthright. Sacred trust. Lost, failed. Anele failed. Everything, all lost.”

Apparently he was too badly hurt to answer in terms that she could comprehend. Perhaps her questions were too abstract; too far removed from his immediate plight.

“I understand,” she repeated, striving to calm him. “I’m here. I have power.” He had said as much himself. “Whoever they are-whatever it is-they have no idea what I can do.”

Then she remarked as though she felt no threat herself, “It pursues you. Is it close?”

“Yes!” he returned instantly. “Yes!” His head nodded vehemently. “Protect him. He must be protected!”

“Anele!” Linden spoke more sternly. “I’m here.” Perhaps severity would pierce his confusion. “I know you need protection. I want to help you. But I need to know. How close is it? Where is it?”

Without warning, Anele sprang to his feet. His blind eyes remained fixed on her, but his left arm gestured wildly behind him, indicating some portion of the shrouded cliff-face.

“There!”

“Now?” she asked in disbelief. Her senses had detected nothing. “It’s there now?”

“Yes!” Lifting his head, he shouted into the clear sky, “It pursues him!” Frantically he brandished his arms at the clean sunlight. Under their dirt, they looked as brittle as dry twigs. “Poor Anele. His last trick. He will jump. He must! “

Then he began to weep as if he had come to the end of himself, and even the vibrant Earthpower in his veins could no longer sustain him.

At once, Linden stood as well. “Anele!” she called softly, taking hold of his shoulders so that he would not fling himself from the Watch. “Anele! Listen to me. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

A heartbeat later, however, a swirl of distortion against the mountains snagged in her peripheral vision: caught and tugged so hard that she almost staggered.

Still gripping one of Anele’s shoulders, she turned her head.

God in Heaven! What’s that?

Standing, had lifted her high enough to see the thing Anele dreaded.

The sight of it seemed to crawl over her skin like a rush of formication. The eerie kinesthesia of her health-sense was so intense that she could hardly restrain her impulse to slap at the squirming sensation.

Hundreds of feet tall, it stood against the western edge of the blunt cliff-face: a spinning chiaroscuro of multicoloured dots like the phosphene aura of a migraine. Towering in the shape of a whirlwind, it seethed and danced hotly, each spot of colour incandescent with force, each indistinguishable from the others. Its initial impact struck Linden so hard that she could not focus on it clearly: it appeared to be superimposed on the impenetrable shroud below her, as if it swirled in a different dimension. But then her senses sharpened, and she realised that she was seeing the manifestation through the cloud. It was definitely below her, beneath