The Last Dark (80 page)

ven in this unfamiliar passage, Covenant recognized the Wightwarrens. He knew them by the crudity of the Cavewights’ delving—the careless walls and ragged ceiling, the irregular protrusions of stone where the creatures had neglected to finish what they started—and by the instinctive cunning with which the tunnel followed veins and lodes within the gutrock. From here, anyone who knew the catacombs well would be able to find Kiril Threndor, Heart of Thunder, where Covenant had once surrendered to the Despiser.

But he had no idea how far he still had to go. And he felt sure that the company would be attacked again before he reached his goal.

As if to prove him right, a warning shout came from the darkness ahead: the Ironhand’s voice. He heard yells and effort, the clash of weapons. At once, Onyx Stonemage gestured for a halt. She went three paces farther, then stopped, waiting with her longsword in her fists.

“Mom?” Jeremiah asked uselessly. “Mom?”

“Cavewights bar the passage,” Branl announced, “a small force. I surmise that they did not anticipate our ascent from the crevice. They were not prepared against us. Yet the constricted space aids them. They suffice to—”

Stave shook his head. Briefly Branl narrowed his gaze. Then the Humbled said, “They do not suffice. Four Masters assail the creatures from the rear. Openings are created for the blades of the Swordmainnir, and for Canrik and Dast. Three Cavewights have fallen. Five. Now eight.” After a moment’s silence, Branl stated, “The passage has been cleared.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Linden asked.

Branl appeared to hesitate before saying, “Skill and armor shielded the Swordmainnir.
Haruchai
do not regard their hurts.”

“In other words,” she snapped, “they don’t want me to insult them by offering to treat them.”

Covenant ground his teeth. She was right, of course.

Stave shrugged. “There is much which the Masters do not comprehend.”

“Mom,” Jeremiah breathed thickly. “I smell blood.”

Linden glanced past Covenant at the boy. “I know, honey. I’m sick of all this killing. But we can’t stop. If we don’t fight, they’ll kill us.”

As if to herself, she muttered, “It galls the hell out of me that the Cavewights would probably be on our side if they knew how Foul is using them. They can
think
, for God’s sake. They just don’t think clearly enough.”

And they probably love their children, Covenant added for her. They probably hate us for what we’re doing. But he kept that thought to himself.

Jeremiah murmured something that Covenant did not hear. Stonemage was beckoning them into motion.

Still holding Linden’s hand, still resting his palm on Jeremiah’s shoulder, Covenant started forward again.

Soon he, too, could smell blood: blood and more bitter fluids. In the distance ahead, the
krill
’s illumination caught glints of crimson on the floor and walls. It looked dark as ichor. The Giants and Masters leading the company had moved past the site of the fray, leaving hacked and gutted corpses behind them. Blood lay in thick pools around bodies and spilled guts. Stonemage strode through the carnage as if she could not afford to acknowledge it. Stave and Branl stepped, heedless, in swaths of red, trod with apparent unconcern over dripping corpses. But Covenant had to let go of Linden and Jeremiah so that he could pick his nauseated way among the dead.

God
, it was hard not to hate the Despiser. Rage felt like the only sane response.

As the Giants bringing up the rear passed the slain Cavewights, Branl told Covenant, “The Swordmainnir have gained an intersection of passages. The path familiar to Canrik and his companions lies to the right, but there the air is fraught with peril. Samil, Vortin, and other Masters approach from the left. They report that their search did not tend toward Kiril Threndor. Therefore the Ironhand wishes to continue ahead. She awaits only your consent, ur-Lord.”

Covenant hesitated momentarily, trying to guess the consequences of every choice. Then he rasped, “Tell her to trust herself. More Masters will find us. Eventually some of them will know how to reach Kiril Threndor.”

Branl and Stave nodded. Branl’s manner hinted at increased concentration as he conveyed Covenant’s reply.

Covenant looked to Linden for her approval; but her attention was fixed on Jeremiah. The boy stood staring straight ahead as if he had gone blind. His hands shifted up and down the Staff as if he were wrestling with the Worm.

Groaning to himself, Covenant trailed after Onyx Stonemage.

When he and his companions reached the intersection, they found Frostheart Grueburn, Halewhole Bluntfist, and Dast waiting for them. Blood dripped from a cut the length of Grueburn’s left forearm. A spear had gashed Bluntfist’s right cheek. But their wounds seemed superficial. In the
krill
’s argent, their grins looked garish as grimaces.

They gestured Covenant and the others onward. “The Ironhand deems,” Grueburn explained, “that we are no longer required in the forefront. Therefore we will ward the rear.” As Grueburn added, “Though we are Giants, we counsel haste,” Bluntfist chuckled. “Yon tunnel”—she indicated the one on Covenant’s right—“is rife with odors. It augurs unpleasantness.”

“Be careful,” Covenant warned them unnecessarily. “We can’t lose you.”

He had to stifle an impulse to start running.

This tunnel climbed steeply; dipped down; rose again. It turned at odd angles. After a while, the clang of iron echoed after Covenant. Muffled snarls, thudding blows. Branl reported that Cavewights assailed Grueburn, Bluntfist, and Dast. But now the confines of the passage aided the Swordmainnir and the Master. They could afford to retreat as they fought, following the company. And soon they were able to beat back the creatures. The sounds of struggle faded.

Branl continued to relay information from his kinsmen. In the distance ahead, the vanguard reached a branching. Four more Masters were there. These
Haruchai
reported that they had found a cave, a space like a small cavern with a shallow basin for a floor and openings into other passages: a place where the companions could be questioned.

“I don’t like it,” Covenant complained to Branl. “We’re running out of time.” And he did not want to hear accusations from the Masters.

“In this, they speak with one voice,” replied Branl. His tone concealed his personal reaction. “They require an account of our deeds and purposes.”

“They will be answered,” Stave returned. “Yet I also mislike the prospect of delay. We can have no effect upon the outcome of the world if we do not achieve our ends before the Worm drinks of the EarthBlood.”

The Humbled shrugged. “If the Masters are denied, they may respond with denial.”

“Oh, God,” Linden sighed. “Just what we need.”

Covenant swore to himself. Whatever else Linden had done, she had not lied to the Masters. But they might not be able to see past the fact that she had set in motion the Earth’s ruin.

Aloud, he demanded, “Can’t you convince them, Branl? It doesn’t matter why they’re here. Hellfire! It doesn’t even matter if Bhapa and Pahni lied to them. We need help. Holding us back now is just surrender. We might as well kill ourselves.”

The Humbled held Covenant’s glare. “I cannot sway them, ur-Lord. I am not as I was. My thoughts no longer accord with theirs. They deem that they would not have acted as I have done. In their minds, they would have forestalled the Worm’s awakening. This belief justifies their wrath.”

Jeremiah was squirming. “That’s stupid,” he snorted as soon as Branl finished: scorn thick as venom. “Covenant wouldn’t be here without it. And I wouldn’t be
here
. I would already be helping Roger and that
croyel
become
eternal
.

“Did you tell the Masters
that
?”

“To what purpose, Chosen-son?” countered Branl. “They would reply that Corruption could not threaten creation while he was imprisoned within the Arch. And while he was imprisoned, much might have been attempted to thwart him. Only the Worm’s awakening assures his triumph.”

Before Covenant could think of a response that was not rage, Linden spoke. “If it’s up to me,” she told the Humbled, “I’ll answer anything. I don’t know how much time we have. I don’t know if we can afford to stand around arguing. But the Masters are important. I’ll do what I can.”

“Chosen.” Branl’s visage revealed nothing. Yet when he bowed, he gave her his full respect. Then he turned away, bearing the company’s only light down the tunnel.

Well, damn, Covenant thought. My wife—

Baring his teeth, he tried to grin. When that failed, he concentrated on catching up with the Humbled.

I am not as I was.

And Linden was facing the most immediate of her fears.

efore long, Covenant and his immediate companions reached the place where the tunnel forked. There four Masters awaited him. He recognized Ard and Ulman. The other two were Vortin and Samil.

The
krill
lit momentary wonder in Vortin’s eyes, and in Samil’s, as they bowed to Covenant. It exposed their ire when they regarded Linden. But they did not linger. While Branl explained that they would help Grueburn, Bluntfist, and Dast guard the rear, the four men moved into the blackness of the passages.

Covenant heard weapons behind him again. Giantish oaths echoed like gasps along the tunnel. Bluff Stoutgirth’s voice harried Scatterwit and Blustergale.

“They are swift enough,” a Swordmain responded to the Anchormaster. Grueburn? Bluntfist? “Expostulation will not speed them.”

Gritting his teeth, Covenant followed Stonemage with Linden, Jeremiah, and Stave. Among them, Branl strode along like a man whose uncertainties had become faith.

This passage also ascended and dipped as it wandered; but now each rise took the company higher into the mountain. Covenant had no idea where he was in relation to the ancient Heart of Thunder. His human memories of the catacombs were confused by the dangers which he and his companions had faced then. Surrounded by this darkness, this weight of stone, he could not imagine how far he still had to go.

Tired as he was, the erratic climb felt long. The vagaries of the rough corridor blocked his view in both directions: he could not see beyond the
krill
. Like the Giants ahead of him, those behind seemed insubstantial, as if they had faded from the world. Only Linden and Jeremiah were real. Branl, Stave, and Onyx Stonemage.