The Runes of the Earth

means of defence. “Yet even that remnant of wakefulness which remained was vast by mortal measure, and its power was likewise vast. Capable then as well as aware, the One Forest turned its loathing and ire, not against the deaf ignorance of humankind, but rather against the Ravers.

“Nor did the trees count the cost of their new might. The Elohim had sung to them of retribution, and she was more puissant than any Raver. Her nature granted them the power to deny. Therefore they took her and bound her, and with Earthpower set her in bonds of stone at the edge of Landsdrop as a barricade, a forbidding, against the Ravers. And such was the strength of their ramified will that while she lived, while she retained any vestige of herself, moksha, turiya and samadhi were entirely barred from the Upper Land. No Raver in any form could pass that interdiction to threaten the remnants of the One Forest.”

There Anele stopped, although his tale was not done. He had lost the thread of memory in the granite, or his ability to discern it had faltered. Nevertheless its compulsion held Linden. When he did not continue, she finished his tale for him as if she, too, had been bound in place by the exigency of the trees.

“But that’s not all,” she added. “People didn’t stop cutting down forests just because the Ravers couldn’t goad them to it.” Covenant had told her this. “The trees had spared there, but they were still too ignorant to know it. Ordinary people kept on hacking and burning whenever they thought they needed more open ground. They didn’t know,” could not know, “that they were murdering the mind of the One Forest.

“So the trees went further. After they formed that forbidding,” the Colossus of the Fall, “they used what they had learned from the Elohim to create the Forestals. Guardians to protect the last forests.” Morinmoss between Mount Thunder and the Plains of Ra. Dark Grimmerdhore east of Revelstone. Fatal Garroting Deep around the flanks of Melenkurion Skyweir. Giant Woods at the borders of Seareach. “Because most of the time we humans don’t seem to care what we’re doing to the world.”

Then she had to stop as well. She needed time to pray that the ending of the Sun bane and the creation of a new Staff of Law had undone some of humankind’s harm; that the Land had regained enough vitality to enable the growth of new forests.

“It may be so,” Anele sighed into the gathering chill. “That knowledge is not written here.”

After a long moment, Liand stirred. He rose to his feet; gathered up the food and waterskins. “No one remembers it.” His bitterness echoed Anele’s tale. “The Masters do not speak of it. This treasure of the Land’s past, these memories of glory, they keep to themselves.”

Linden groaned inwardly. He was right. The Haruchai had left the people of the Land as ignorant and blind-and as potentially destructive-as their first ancestors had been.

In their own way, the Masters might prove as fatal as Ravers.

“Thank God,” she murmured obliquely, hardly aware that she spoke aloud, “there are only two of them left.”

No ordinary death could claim a Raver. But samadhi Sheol had been rent, torn to shreds, by the sacrifice of Grimmand Honninscrave and the power of the Sandgorgon Nom.

“Two?” Liand asked in confusion.

And, “Masters?” croaked Anele, rousing himself. “Masters?”

Linden brushed them aside with a flick of her hand. Anele’s tale filled her head. “I’m just thinking-”

She felt now that she had never before grasped the full atrocity of the Sunbane. Oh, she had experienced its horror in every nerve. Her knowledge was both personal and intimate. But she had not guessed what such devastation meant to the fading sentience of the trees. Or to Caer-Caveral, the last Forestal, who had lost more than he could bear.

It was no wonder, she thought, that he had given up his defence of Andelain for the sake of Hollian and her unborn child. He had known too much death, and needed to affirm life.

Suddenly Anele flung himself to his feet. Wailing, “Masters!” he began to scramble frantically up the raw sharp rocks.

Masters-? Stave

Remembering forests and slaughter, Linden struggled upright in time to see top the rise which blocked her view of the South Plains.

He approached swiftly. Deepening shadows obscured his face. Even with her health-sense, she had never been able to read the emotions of the Haruchai. Nevertheless her thin percipience was enough to let her feel the urgency of his stride.

Behind her, Anele rushed upward like a shout of fear.

“Linden Avery,” Stave barked as he drew near, “this is folly.” The timbre of his voice suggested anger, although its inflection did not. “Do you seek to flee? Then why are you not far from this place? While you linger, they have caught your scent.”

Instinctively, uselessly, Liand moved to interpose himself between Stave and Linden. “It is you we flee, Master.” Once again his innocence and resolve conveyed a dignity that she could not match. “If we have erred, it is because we were granted opportunity to hear a tale which you have denied us.”

Stave ignored him; seemed to slip past him without effort. “Abandon your supplies, Stonedownor,” he ordered as he advanced on Linden. “You must flee at once. The Chosen will require your aid.”

Then he stood before her.

“They have caught your scent,” he repeated. “Already they have severed any retreat. You must make haste.”

Liand started after Stave as if he meant to leap on the Master’s back. But then he seemed to hear something in Stave’s tone that halted his attack. “They?” he panted. “They?”

An instant later, he wheeled; rushed toward his packs and Somo.

Linden stared at Stave in blank shock. The mourning of the cliffs still gripped her: slain trees thronged in her mind. She could not grasp-

Your scent-?

“Have you forgotten your peril?” he demanded. “Alone, I cannot withstand them. Yet I will slay as many as I may. They will be hindered somewhat. Perhaps they will be daunted. Or perhaps you may gain some covert before they assail you”

“Linden!” Liand cried out to her. “Run! Do not delay for me!” Feverishly he threw bundles onto the pinto’s back. “I will follow!”

“Stave?” she breathed dumbly. “What-?”

“Linden Avery, you are hunted by kresh.”

In his flat tone, the words sounded as deadly as Ravers.

Chapter Nine: Scion of Stone

Had she heard of kresh in huge packs possessed by Ravers? Did she imagine the memory? Aboard Starfare’s Gem she had seen a black swarm of rats driven by a Raver’s malice. In a terrible storm, burning eels had come near to crippling the Search for the One Tree. But kresh-?

Had she ever heard of those great yellow wolves before Liand had mentioned them?

The Stonedownor yelled, “Linden!”

Stave insisted inflexibly, “Linden Avery.”

Her son needed her, and she had come to this.

The twilight of deep shade filled the cleft. Overhead the sun had passed into midafternoon, but the ragged cliffs rose too high to admit direct sunshine. Beyond them, the sky held an illimitable blue tinged to the verge of gloaming with purple and majesty. Its lambency was all that lit the rift.

Liand fumbled to secure Somo’s burdens. “Stave!” he shouted. “How far?”

“Half a league,” Stave answered as if Linden had asked the question, “no more.” His hands touched her shoulders. “If you do not flee, you will perish here. They will tear you asunder.”

“Flee?” she countered. “What for?” Disoriented by images of ruin, she could hardly concentrate on the