The Runes of the Earth

The pain in her neck brought tears to her eyes; and for a moment the stone seemed to cant under her. Briefly she rested where she was. Then she began to grope forward, hoping for water.

Her right hand found an emaciated ankle.

It jerked away from her touch as she snatched back her hand. Hoarsely an old voice croaked, “Leave Anele alone. Cruel Masters. Let him perish.”

Anele. Her throat was too dry for sound: she could not say his name. Nevertheless she felt a rush of relief. At least the Haruchai had not separated them. Presumably they were prisoners together.

She might yet be given a chance to keep her promise.

Shifting her knees to the left, she continued searching.

After a moment, the edge of her left hand encountered a hard shape. Quickly she reached for it.

It was round and curved: a large bowl. Its surface felt like polished stone, cooler than the floor. When she dipped her fingers into it, she found water.

At once, she lowered her pounding head and drank.

Every swallow was bliss on her swollen tongue and parched throat. She could easily have emptied the bowl. As the level of the water dropped, however, she pulled back her head.

“Anele,” she panted softly into the dark, “it’s me. Linden. I found water.”

The Haruchai had told her that they treated their prisoners gently.

A prompt scuffling answered her. “Where?” her companion asked. “Anele is thirsty. So thirsty. They are cruel. They give him nothing.”

One of his hands grasped at her side.

“Here.” She reached for his wrist and guided him to the bowl. As he clutched its sides, she added, “Take all you want. I’m sure they’ll bring us more.”

Anele’s only response was to lift the bowl so that he could drink more deeply.

While the old man satisfied himself, Linden resumed her search. She was confident that she had scented food.

Their captors would have left it near the water.

Less than an arm’s length away, she discovered a second bowl. It had been fashioned of stone like the first, but its sides were warm. When she poised her face over it, she felt a waft of steam stroke her cheeks.

Stew, definitely: meat and broth; vegetables of some kind. And-Was it possible? Had she caught a hint of aliantha?

Dear God.

Saliva filled her mouth. Sweeping the floor with one hand, she found a pair of wooden spoons. Without hesitation, she dipped a spoon into the bowl and tested its contents.

They retained some warmth, but were no longer hot. Mutton and gravy thick with flour. Small round shapes that tasted like spring peas. And yes, beyond question: aliantha. As her first mouthful comforted her tongue, it left behind a distinctive savour of peach tinged with salt and lime.

For the first time since she had arrived on Kevin’s Watch, Linden remembered hope. The Haruchai had told her the truth. If they stirred healing treasure-berries into their viands, they did not intend their prisoners to suffer.

To that extent, at least, Anele had misapprehended the Masters. They had not fallen entirely under Lord Foul’s sway.

Linden ate several spoonfuls of the stew while her companion drained the bowl of water. Then she whispered to him, “Over here, Anele. It’s food.”

“It is fatal,” he answered anxiously. “They seek to poison Anele:”

“No, they don’t,” she replied as calmly as she could. “I’ve already tasted it. It’s good.” Unsure how to persuade him, she added, “They put treasure-berries in it.”

Immediately he shuffled to her side. “Aliantha sustains Anele,” he muttered as she pressed a spoon into his hands. “Often naught else preserves his life.”

Together they crouched over the bowl.

She stopped before she was satisfied, leaving the rest for her companion. But Anele continued ladling stew into his mouth until he had scraped the bowl empty.

Half to herself, she murmured, “Poor man, how long have you been lost?”

He did not answer. No doubt in his present condition he could not. His manner of speaking told her that his madness had reasserted its hold over him.

“In a minute or two,” she breathed absently, “I’m going to look for a way out of this place-whatever it is. But first I’m going to rest a bit.”

Her torn muscles and bruises demanded that.

Turning away from Anele, she crawled until the tips of her fingers brushed a wall. Like the floor, it was formed of smooth, cool stone. She sat with her back against it and leaned her head on it to reduce the strain on her neck.

Water and food. Aliantha. And captors who were prepared to treat her kindly. The Haruchai had only struck her because she had opposed his desire to take Anele. Perhaps she did indeed have reason to hope.

If she could convince the Masters that she was the Linden Avery who had accompanied Covenant to the Land so many centuries ago, she might win back their amity Then she would get answers. Guidance. Aid.

If.

You need the Staff of Law.

Otherwise she would have to find a way to escape. She would have to tackle the whole Land with only Anele’s insanity to direct her.

Do something they don’t expect.

What in hell was that supposed to mean?

She ought to move; start exploring. But she was entirely out of her depth. She hardly knew how to tread water in this situation: she could not imagine how she might extricate herself. And she was so tired-Her last night in her own bed, her last experience of comparative innocence, seemed to have occurred weeks or months ago.

Somewhere in the darkness, her companion sighed. “Anele is weak,” he muttered to himself. “Too old. Too hungry. He should refuse food, water. Better to perish. They only prolong Anele’s life to hurt him. Hold him for it.”

He meant a caesure.

Quietly Linden asked, “What will it do to you, Anele?” In spite of her fatigue, she could still be moved. “What’re you so afraid of?”

His voice shuddered as he replied, “It severs.”

She swore to herself. “So you said. What does it sever?”

“Life.” Anele moaned as though she had dismayed him. “Anele’s life. It is the maw of the Seven Hells. Betrayed trust. Failure. Sorrow.”

Linden did not press him. His distress restrained her.

And she remembered the Seven Hells.

During their generations of dominion over the Land, the Clave had preached that the Earth had been created as a prison for a being called a-Jeroth of the Seven Hells, whose domain was pestilence, desert, fertility, war, savagery, rain, and darkness. Thus Sunder had explained the Sunbane to Covenant and Linden. It was the manifestation of a-Jeroth’s evil; and it was also retribution against those who had failed to oppose the lord of the Seven Hells.

After so many centuries, Linden was appalled to think that any vestige of those teachings still persisted. Surely she and Covenant and their friends had discredited the Clave utterly when they had driven it out of existence?

The Masters name him their foe, yet they serve him and know it not.

Ah, God. She was out of her depth in all truth: floundering in quicksand. Caesures were the gullet of the Seven Hells, swallowing people away from life? The Haruchai