The Runes of the Earth

will come to no harm. We do not desire his distress. We will only deliver him to Revelstone so that he may work no ill.”

The Master apparently thought that this would reassure her.

It did not. She had been through too much, and could not bear to fail another commitment. “You aren’t listening,” she told the Haruchai. “I said I promised to protect him. He’s old and confused, he’s no threat. And he’s terrified of being trapped. He won’t be able to avoid those caesures.

“We name them “Falls”, said the Haruchai.

Linden ignored that. “I don’t know why he’s so afraid of them. But I think they’re what broke his mind in the first place. Being helpless is the worst thing that could happen to him. He’s so scared-Any kind of restraint might destroy him. Even if you’re gentle about it, you could ruin what’s left of him.

“I made him a promise,” she finished. “You of all people should understand what that means.”

The Haruchai showed no reaction. He did not so much as blink.

A moment later, however, she heard an impact on the grass behind her: the sound of a body landing lightly. In alarm she wheeled toward Anele and saw another Haruchai already standing behind him.

This one bore no scars. He may have been younger than his companion.

“Where is your power now?” Anele cackled at her in Lord Foul’s voice, “the wild magic that destroys peace?”

“He belongs to us,” the new arrival said flatly. “We will permit him no more freedom.”

Bitter with anger and fatigue, Linden turned back to the first Haruchai.

He had moved one or two steps closer to her.

“I told you-!” she began.

He interrupted her. “I have said,” he repeated without expression, “that we will grant you opportunity to persuade us that we must honour you. Until that time you must accompany us. We will treat the old man gently.”

“No!” Linden shook her head, infuriated by his impenetrability. “You will not touch him!”

The Haruchai shrugged as if in dismissal.

Anele went on chortling. “They are Haruchai. Did you believe that they would heed you?”

Roger Covenant also had refused to hear her.

Before she could defend herself, the Haruchai swept forward. Swiftly his fist lashed out; struck her in the centre of her forehead. Her head snapped back. The hills reeled drunkenly around her.

As she lapsed into darkness, she heard Anele’s cry of woe.

Haunted by lamentation, Linden Avery rode a dark tide of pain and futility, as helpless as a dried leaf on a wave. She chose nothing, determined nothing: she merely reacted to events. The Despiser had laid a snare for the people of the Land, and they walked toward it blindly. She could not even warn them. They refused to listen.

Why should they heed her? She had no name for their peril. She had no idea what the Falls and Kevin’s Dirt were for.

Jeremiah’s plight was only more immediate, not worse. Lord Foul threatened the life of the Land, and of all the Earth, and she had no means to save any of them, except by wild magic. Yet any use of white gold endangered the Arch of Time. For that very reason, Thomas Covenant had forsworn his power.

Now the man she loved lay forever beyond her reach. No matter how acutely she had yearned for him over the years, she would never see him again, or feel his touch, or hold him in her arms.

She had learned to yearn instead for her son. Whatever happened, she intended to save Jeremiah.

Borne along by the current of her unconsciousness, she endeavoured to slough away all other considerations; to concentrate her whole heart on her vulnerable son. But the dark scend did not float her to Jeremiah. Instead it brought Covenant’s voice to her ears.

He sounded as he had sounded in life: harsh and compassionate; driven to extremes, deeply wounded, and dear; full of comprehension and rue.

Linden, he said distinctly, you aren’t listening.

Oh, Covenant! she cried out within herself. Where are you? Why can’t I see you? Are you all right?

I’m trying to tell you. He seemed as strict as the Haruchai. You need the Staff of Law.

For a moment, he surprised her questions to silence. I don’t know where it is. She might have wept. It doesn’t seem to work anymore.

Violations of Law like Kevin’s Dirt and caesures could not have flourished in the presence of the Staff.

You aren’t listening, he repeated more gently. I said, I understand how you feel. It’s too much to ask of anyone. Don’t worry about that. Do something they don’t expect.

Like what? she countered in tears. All I have is your ring. It isn’t mine. It isn’t me. It doesn’t belong to me the way it did to you. I don’t understand any of this.

Foul has my son!

Don’t worry about that, he said again. Already his voice had begun to recede from her. Trust yourself. She could barely hear him. Do something they don’t expect.

Then he was gone. She sobbed his name, but only breakers and seething answered.

Eventually a swell lifted her up to deposit her upon a plane of stone above the tide. When she returned to herself there, her cheeks were wet with weeping.

For a time, she lay still, resting her bruised body on the cool smooth stone. Her former life had not prepared her for physical ordeals. All of her muscles throbbed with overexertion. In addition, her tongue felt thick with thirst, and her stomach ached for food.

Nevertheless those pangs hurt her less than the knowledge that she had failed to keep her promise to Anele. Covenant had told her to trust herself. He might as well have advised her to fly to the moon. Too many people had already died.

Groaning softly, she opened her eyes on darkness like the inside of her mind. She lay face-down on stone worn or polished smooth. The air felt cool and clean in her sore lungs. When she tried to shift her limbs, they moved as easily as her injuries allowed. To that extent, at least, she was intact. She simply could not see.

But when she raised her head, pain lanced into her neck: whiplash from the blow she had received. At once, a sharp throbbing began in her forehead, and the stone under her seemed to tilt. Cursing to herself, she lowered her head again.

Damn them anyway. The Haruchai she had known-Brinn, Cail, and the others had not made a practice of striking down strangers.

And where had she been taken? Underground? No. The air was too fresh, and the stone not cold enough, for a cave or cavern.

Night must have fallen while she was unconscious. Or the Haruchai had left her in a windowless cell somewhere. Mithil Stonedown? To the best of her knowledge, that was the nearest village.

The Haruchai did not need cells to control their prisoners.

For a while, she postponed the challenge of rising to her feet. Instead she reached under her chest to confirm that Covenant’s ring still hung on its chain around her neck; to reassure herself on its hard circle. Then she turned her attention to the scents of this space.

At first, she detected only grime and old sweat, the sour odour of an untended body: probably hers. Stone dust still caked her hair, clogging her senses. When she reached past those smells, however, she caught a faint whiff of water and the unmistakable aroma of cooked food.

Suddenly eager, she braced her arms on the stone, wedged her legs under her. Then, carefully, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.