The Runes of the Earth

One look told her that Sahah’s grasp on life had become tenuous, stretched as thin as a whisper. Fever glazed her eyes, and pain had cut lines like galls into her cheeks. Internal bleeding left her skin the colour of spilth, as if her flesh might slump from her bones at any moment.

The state of her abdomen cried out to Linden’s senses.

It could have been worse; far worse. Care and amanibhavam had accomplished this: Sabah still lived.

Antibiotics and transfusions might yet save her.

But the left side of her belly was swollen and seeping, crimson with sepsis. The internal ooze of bile had undone the effects of hot water and amanibhavam. Infection ate like acid at her fading endurance.

The Cords whom Hami had sent for hurtloam might return by midday; but Sahah would not last so long.

“Ringthane” The Manethrall’s voice was a rasp of weariness. “We have considered opening her wound to apply more amanibhavam.” She showed Linden a small bowl of the Ramen’s sovereign poultice. In water the pulped leaves emitted such potency that the scent stung Linden’s nostrils. “But I determined to await your counsel. Hampered in discernment, you have shown that you are capable of much. If you are now able to see, perhaps you are also able to tell us what we must do.”

Pride made what she wanted to say difficult for her. The previous day she had discounted Linden’s offer of help.

“Three Cords have fallen at my word. They are honoured among us, for they were valiant against the kresh. Yet they were Ramen, flesh and bone, and we are too few for the promises we have made. If you possess any lore or power which may retrieve Sahah from death-” For a moment, her eyes misted as though she might weep.

Linden turned away to spare Hami the sight of her own uncertainty. The Ramen knew that she had power. They had felt the presence of Covenant’s ring under her shirt.

She could read Sahah’s condition in frightening detail. Every rent tissue, every oozing duct, every mangled vessel was plain to her percipience; as vivid as a dissection. And everywhere within the Cord’s abdomen thronged the killing secretions of bile and pus. Sahah’s belly might have been the Great Swamp in miniature, its waters and growths and life made toxic by the leakage of Mount Thunder’s terrible banes.

Studying Sahah’s plight, Linden groaned to herself. She was a doctor, for God’s sake. She was supposed to know how to heal people.

She had done so in the past-

Long ago aboard Starfare’s Gem, she had once saved the life of a crushed Giant using only her health- sense. She had reached into him with her percipience, had possessed him, and caused his own nerves and muscles to pull closed some of his wounds, staunch some of his bleeding. In that way, she had kept him alive long enough for other aid to reach him.

But he had been a Giant, inconceivably strong by human standards. And she had his side immediately, before his condition could worsen. And his life had been sustained by the healing vitality of diamondraught. And there had been no danger of infection: no polluted fangs and claws; no spilled bile; no punishing climb up the rift.

Her health-sense alone would not suffice. Sahah could not be saved without power: without hurtloam or the Staff of Law.

Or wild magic.

Linden had already demonstrated to herself that she did not understand how to access white gold.

But even if she had been a master of argence, she might still have failed. Covenant’s ring was too puissant: its forces could more readily gouge out mountainsides than cleanse infections or seal internal wounds. And he had taught her that wild magic grew more rampant with use, not more delicate or subtle.

Yet the Manethrall and the Cords watched her as Liand did, as if she had led them to expect miracles.

Finally, because she did not know what else to do, Linden looked around the camp for Stave.

He stood apart from the Ramen as though he had been there all night, alone, and had no need for rest or friendship. He may have been waiting for her, however: as soon as she met his gaze, he came to join her.

The Haruchai had never been known as healers. They lived by their skills, or they died, and did not count the cost.

“Stave,” she said when he had acknowledged her with a nod. “Manethrall.” She could not have explained what she had in mind. For all she knew, she would be unable to make it work. For Sahah’s sake, however, she did not hesitate. “I want to try something.”

Mutely Hami proffered her bowl.

Linden shook her head. “Not that. She’s too weak. It’ll kill her. First we need to make her stronger.

“Do either of you know where the ur-viles went?”

The Manethrall shook her head; and Stave said, “They were ever secret creatures, more accustomed to caverns and warrens than to open sky. I cannot guess where they have hidden themselves, but I deem that you”- his tone implied, even you- “would be loathe to follow.”

Linden dismissed his point with a jerk of her head. “Can you summon asked Hami.

Again the woman shook her head.

“Then how were they brought to our aid?” Liand asked impulsively.

The Manethrall shrugged. “They come and go as they wish. I know not how your plight came to their notice. We do not speak their tongue.”

Linden stared at Ham”. For a moment, she heard a vibration that sounded like dishonesty in the Manethrall’s tone. Something in her response was meant to mislead-

Yet Linden saw immediately that Hami had told the literal truth: she did not know how to call the ur-viles. The Manethrall wished to conceal or avoid something; but it had no relevance to Sahah’s straits. Hami might well have sacrificed all her Cords in battle, but she would risk none of them for the sake of an untruth.

“Then I’ll have to do it.” Abruptly Linden started to walk away from her companions. “Keep everyone back. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Before anyone could question her, she headed out of the camp away from the escarpment.

She had no particular direction in mind: she only wanted a little distance. At her back, she heard Liand object to being left behind. The Manethrall’s command restrained him from following, however, if Stave’s did not.

Anxious and uncertain, Linden paced the wiry grass until she felt in the sensitive skin between her shoulder blades that she had reached a safe remove. There she stopped, facing away from the camp. Because she had no lore to guide her, and no experience, she sank to her knees. Perhaps that suppliant stance would convey what words could not.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she told the dawn and the mountain breeze. “I don’t know if you can hear me. Or if you care. But you’ve already helped us once.

“And once you saved the world.”

As she spoke, she slowly closed her eyes; turned her concentration inward. Without watching what she did, she pulled Covenant’s ring from under her shirt and folded it in her cupped palms as if she were praying. Somewhere hidden within her lay a door which could be opened on silver and conflagration. She knew that: otherwise she would already be dead. But it seemed to occupy a place in her heart and mind which she could only approach as if by misdirection. She had not yet learned how to find that door at will.

“You know who I am” She spoke softly. If the ur-viles could or would not hear her, no shout would reach them. “With this white gold ring and my own hand, I used Vain to make a new Staff of Law, as you intended.” Vain had been given to Covenant, but he had acknowledged and served her. “With your help, I went as far as I could go against the Despiser.”

Far enough to heal the ravages of the Sunbane. But only Covenant’s self-sacrifice had sufficed to contain Lord Foul’s malice.

“Now I’m back. This time I intend to do more.”

She thought of Jeremiah, alone and tormented. Of Anele’s terrors and bereavements. Of Lord Foul’s words in the old man’s mouth. Of a yellow shroud tainting the Land