Part 27 (2/2)

She stopped as if he had commanded her; as if she understood him.

Scrambling to a halt, he and Jeremiah positioned themselves on either side of her, front and back. They flung up their arms. Against a background of incompatible magicks as flagrant as an avalanche, she felt their powers rise. She had time to think, They did this, they tricked-There are times when it's useful to be stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Then thunder or lightning arched over her head, and everything vanished as though her existence had been severed with an axe. During the immeasurable interval between instants, she and her companions fled.

Without transition, the acrid midnight of the Viles and the angry music of the Forestal sprang into the distance. Unbalanced by the s.h.i.+fting ground, Linden stumbled; flung out her arms to catch herself. Then, still reeling, she looked wildly around her.

Covenant and Jeremiah had brought her to the ridge of another twisted rib among the Last Hills. On one side, the slopes rose into intransigent bluffs and crags: with each translocation, their resemblance to nascent mountains increased. On the other, Garroting Deep lapped against the hills as though the trees had been caught by winter and cold in the act of encroaching on their boundaries. With her first unsteady glance, Linden saw no significant change in the forest. Slight variations in the textures of the woodland: trees differently arranged. Nothing more. Yet she sensed that the intentions of the Deep had been altered at their roots.

The forest no longer hungered for human flesh. Instead Garroting Deep's mood had become outrage, and its appet.i.te was focused elsewhere.

In the southeast, at least two or three leagues away, the Viles and Caerroil Wildwood made war on each other. Their might was so intense that Linden could descry each scourging strike of scorn and blackness-and each extravagant note, each instance of pure fury, in the Forestal's vast song.

Rampant obsidian and glory were plainly visible, hectic and unappeased, against the horizon of the hills. Even here, the ground trembled at the forces which the combatants hurled at each other.

Both Covenant and Jeremiah had dropped to their knees to avoid Linden's floundering. But Jeremiah still held his arms high. From them, energies poured upward as if he sought to ward away or channel the collapse of the sky. The muscles at the corner of his eye sent out messages which she could not interpret.

A heartbeat later, wood began to rain from the empty air. Deadwood, twisted and knaggy: leafless twigs and branches of every size and shape, all broken by weather or theurgy from what must once have been a majestic oak. Linden and her companions could have been beaten b.l.o.o.d.y or killed by the sudden downpour. But Jeremiah's power covered them. Twigs as slender as her fingers and boughs as thick as a Giant's leg rebounded in mid-plunge and toppled to the dirt in a crude circle around the rim of Jeremiah's protection.

Unbalanced by shock and surprise, Linden braced herself on the Staff. Too much had happened too quickly: her nerves could not accommodate it. She still seemed to see the speech of the Viles blooming darkly in her vision, clawing at her skin. All of that wood had fallen from the featureless sky, and she had done her utmost to sway the makers of the Demondim from their doom.

But she had failed.-a rock and a hard place. The Viles would never forgive the forests of the Land now. They had learned the loathing of trees- Almost at once, Covenant jumped to his feet. ”Get to it,” he snapped at Jeremiah. ”We don't have much time.” Then he faced Linden. ”Do what I tell you,” he demanded harshly. ”Don't ask questions. Don't even think. We're still in danger. We need you.”

She did not think. When she said, ”You tricked them,” she was surprised to hear herself speak aloud. ”The Viles and the Forestal.” Like Covenant, Jeremiah had leapt upright. In a rush, he gathered the deadwood, tossing or tugging the heavier branches into a pile, throwing twigs by the handful among them. ”You made them think that they were attacking each other.”

And she had helped him. Her attempts to reason with the Viles had distracted them- ”d.a.m.nation, Linden!” yelled Covenant. ”I told you-!” But then he made an obvious effort to control himself. Lowering his voice, he rasped, ”We don't have time for this. I know you feel overwhelmed. But we can't afford a discussion right now.

”The Viles aren't stupid. They're going to figure out what happened. They'll know who to blame. If that d.a.m.n Forestal stops singing at them, they'll come after us. And even he can't hold them. Any minute now, they'll find a way to evade him.

”Linden, we need you.”

Tense with purpose, Jeremiah hurried around the circle of wood, collecting branches of all sizes.

Linden was not sure that she could move. If she tried to take a step, she might collapse. Covenant had told her not to think. She seemed to have no thoughts at all.

”Can't you outrun them?”

”h.e.l.lfire!” Blood or embers flared in his eyes. ”Of course we can outrun them. If we have time. But they can move pretty d.a.m.n fast. We need time.”

As soon as they broke off their engagement with Caerroil Wildwood- ”You planned all of this,” she responded dully. ”Or you planned for it.”

”Snap out of it!” Covenant retorted, yelling again. ”Do what I tell you!”

Already Jeremiah had gathered half of the torn and splintered wood. In the distance, combat blazed and volleyed, wreckage against song, burgeoning disdain against ancient wrath.

”Where did all this wood come from?” she asked. ”What's it for?”

”Linden!” Covenant protested: a howl of frustration.

But Jeremiah paused, sweating despite the cold. ”There was a dead oak at the edge of the trees,” he said without looking at her. ”Or almost dead. Anyway, it had a lot of dead branches. I hit it. We picked up the wood when we escaped. Were going to need it when we get to Melenkurion Skyweir.”

Abruptly he resumed his task.

Trying to think, Linden wondered, Torches? Campfires?

But Jeremiah had broken enough boughs for a full bonfire-and most of them were too large to be carried as torches.

She gave it up: it was beyond her comprehension. The aftereffects of synesthesia left her in disarray. Her synapses seemed to misfire randomly, afflicting her with instants of distortion and bafflement. Sighing, she made an effort to stand without the support of the Staff.

”All right,” she murmured to Covenant. ”We don't have time. This makes me sick. What do you want me to dor She could not imagine how she might impede the pursuit of the Viles.

”Finally!” Covenant growled.

”Go down there,” he told her at once, indicating the southeastward slope of the ridge. ”Twenty or thirty paces. That should give us enough room. Use the Staff. Make a Forbidding. As big as you can. That won't stop them, but it'll slow them down. They'll want to understand it.”

Linden peered at him, blinking vaguely. ”What's a Forbidding?”

”h.e.l.l and blood!” Now his anger was not directed at her. ”I keep forgetting how ignorant-” Grimly he stopped himself. For a moment, he appeared to study the air: he may have been searching through his memories of time. Then his gaze returned, smoldering, to hers. ”Don't worry about that. What we need is a wall of power. Any kind of power. It just has to be dangerous. And it has to cover that whole hillside.

”Go,” he insisted, gesturing her away. ”Do it now.”

Linden watched her son piling wood. In some sense, Covenant was telling her the truth. She felt the garish battle in the distance s.h.i.+ft as the Viles adjusted their tactics to counter Caerroil Wildwood's clinquant melodious onslaught. The creatures might soon break free. She took a step or two, still gazing at Jeremiah with supplication in her eyes. Please, she had tried to urge him earlier. Don't betray me.

She did not understand why he needed so much wood.

And she could not conceive of any barrier except fire.

Fire on the verge of Garroting Deep.

Hardly aware of what she did, she trudged downward. Her mind was full of flames. Flames at the edge of the forest. Flames which might leap in an instant to dried twigs and boughs. If she did not tend them constantly, keep them under control, any small gust of wind might Lover of trees.

Still she descended the hillside, trying to find her way through memories of twisted blackness, solid irruptions of sound, music that should have been as bright and beautiful as dew. What choice did she have? They're going to figure out what happened. They'll know who to blame. She had baited a trap by trying to reason with the Viles. They would attempt to kill Covenant. They would certainly kill her son. Moment by moment, Caerroil Wildwood was teaching them to share his taste for slaughter.

But fire*? So close to Garroting Deep? The Forestal would turn his enmity against her. If any hint of flame touched the trees, she would deserve his wrath.

As she moved, however, she grew stronger. That simple exertion reaffirmed the interconnections of muscles and nerves and choice: with each pace, she sloughed away her confusion. And when she had taken a dozen steps, she began to sip sustenance from the Staff, risking the effect of Law on Covenant and Jeremiah. That strengthened her as well.

By degrees, she became herself again. She began to think.

What would happen if she raised a wall of fire here?

Caerroil Wildwood would see it. Of course he would. And he would respond-For the sake of his trees, he would forego his struggle with the Viles in an instant.

Then the Viles would be released to pursue the people who had tricked them. Linden and her companions would be a.s.sailed by both forces. It was even conceivable that the Forestal and the Viles would form an alliance- If that happened, what she knew and understood of the Land's history would be shattered. The ramifications would expand until they became too fundamental to be contained.

Covenant was urging her to hazard the Arch of Time.

<script>