Part 32 (1/2)

”There's more, of course, but I won't bother you with it. Here's the point. Frankly, Dr. Avery, ever since we got you away from your present, there haven't been any possible outcomes that don't give us exactly what we want. Plus, of course, we get to watch you cower. We get to watch you suffer for your poor kid. That alone makes all this trouble worthwhile.”

Linden should have quailed. His certainty was as bitter as the touch of a Raver: it should have defeated her. But it did not. How often had she heard Lord Foul or his servants prophesy destruction, attempting to impose despair? And how often had Thomas Covenant shown her that it was possible to stand upright under the weight of utter hopelessness?

Still kneeling, feigning weakness, she protested. ”You aren't making sense.”

Deliberately she let the pain in her hand leak into her voice. ”You want to rouse the Worm. You want to break the Arch. But then you'll be destroyed. Lord Foul can escape. You can't. Why are you so eager to die?”

”Well, it's true,” Roger drawled happily. ”Kastenessen hasn't thought it through. All he cares about is wreaking havoc on the Elohim. If he's killed in the carnage, at least he won't hurt anymore.

”The croyel and I have other plans. Foul has promised to take us with him. And he'll keep that promise. He needs your kid. h.e.l.l, he owns him. How else do you suppose the croyel got access to everything your kid knows, everything he can do? He's belonged to Foul for years.

”But even if Foul tries to cheat us, we'll still get what we want. The croyel can use your kid's talent. You've seen that. He'll make us a door. A portal to eternity.” He glanced around at the tunnel. ”All the materials he needs are right here. While the Worm tears this world apart, we'll open our door and go through it.

”Face it, Dr. Avery.” Pa.s.sion and brimstone condemned Roger's gaze. ”You've done everything conceivable to help us become G.o.ds.”

Inadvertently Roger aided her. He hurt her more severely than any mere physical wound. The thought that the Despiser had claimed her son long ago-that Jeremiah may have partic.i.p.ated in his own subservience to the croyel-was worse than any threat of absolute ruin, any image of apocalypse. Roger may have been lying in an attempt to break her. Instead he transfigured her.

They have done this to my son.

While Roger talked, she anch.o.r.ed herself on the muddy void of Jeremiah's gaze, the slackness of Jeremiah's cheeks and jaw, the useless dexterity of his dangling hands. Her pain and blood and repudiation she focused on the cruel parasite feeding from his neck.

”I'm sure that's fascinating,” she said through her teeth. ”You'll enjoy it. But there are a few things you don't understand.”

His eyes widened in amus.e.m.e.nt; false surprise. ”Like what'?”

Linden bowed her head as though she intended to prostrate herself. Past the concealment of her hair, she muttered. ”Like who I am.”

Then she drew lightning as pure as charged sunlight from the upraised iron heel of the Staff and hurled it simultaneously at both Roger and the croyel.

While her blast flared and echoed in the constriction of the tunnel, she surged to her feet. Unable still to uncramp her pierced hand from the Staff, she used her left to s.h.i.+ft the shaft so that she could brace its length under her left arm, hold it like a lance.

Her attack was abrupt and brief; yet it should have damaged her foes. But it did not. It failed to reach them. Reeling backward, Roger flung out an eruption of magma to intercept the Staffs blaze.

Swift as prescience, the croyel emitted a vehement wall which blocked and dispersed Linden's blow.

Roger caught himself; roared with fury. Aiming his fist at her, he unleashed a scend of fire and lava. At the same time, the creature sent waves of force toward her like cras.h.i.+ng breakers in a storm. Together he and the croyel strove to drive her back against the lode-face of the EarthBlood.

If she fell there, the Blood itself would incinerate her.

She responded with untarnished Earthpower and Law; threw pure flame against the corrupted theurgy of Kastenessen's hand and the savage unnatural coercion of the croyel. Shouting her son's name as though it were a war cry, she met the ferocity of her enemies with power that filled the depths of the mountain like daylight.

Yet Roger and his companion were not damaged or daunted: they hardly seemed to feel her a.s.sault. Grinning as if he could taste triumph and delight, Roger poured out magic to cast down her fire; tried to melt her flesh. And the creature raised Jeremiah's arms to invoke invisible forces. Pressures grated in the air like grinding teeth as they mounted against her; against the lash of flame which was her only defense.

The Staff bucked in Linden's grasp. It seemed to burn. Its limitations were hers: it could not channel more force than her human blood and bone could summon or contain. She stumbled half a step toward the trough. Her flame no longer flooded the cave. The croyets barricade held it back. Crimson and sulfur tainted her sunfire as Roger's eagerness probed into it; reached through it.

Abruptly the deadwood piercing her hand caught fire and burned away, searing the inside of her wound; sealing it. She was scourged backward again.

For an instant, she seemed to see herself falter and fail, see her flesh scorched like charcoal, see the Staff turn black as Roger's heat devoured it. Then she rallied.

They have done this to my son.

With a wordless shout, she thrust the Staff behind her so that its end plunged into the trough of EarthBlood.

At once, fresh strength galvanized her. A torrent of Earthpower rushed through the Staff and became incandescence. Her conflagration spurned the stain of brimstone: it pounded heavily against the repulsion of the croyel. Light that should have blinded her and could not washed through the cave and along the tunnel as the brilliance of Law scaled higher; expanded until it appeared to transcend Melenkurion S kywei r's constricting rock.

The wall emanating from Jeremiah's enslaver receded. Eldritch dazzling effaced the croyets eyes: she could no longer see them, or they had been liquefied in the creature's skull. Briefly Roger's flail of scoria lost a portion of its virulence. Kastenessen's might and pain contracted around Roger's quivering fist.

But he seemed able to draw on limitless power as though he siphoned it from the magma of the Earth's core. Even as Linden's fire grew and grew, claiming more and more puissance from the mountain's ichor, his ruddy heat swelled again. A furnace spilled from his hand. Heat like liquid granite drove back her bright flame.

Again the creature pressed its strength against hers. Its eyes emerged from the flood of sunfire. The Staff thrummed and twisted in her hands, against her ribs. Concussions ran unsteadily along its shaft: she felt the wood's desperation pulse like a stricken heart. Every iota of force that she could summon spouted and flared from the iron which bound her Staff-and it was not enough.

Yet even then she was not defeated. They have done this to my son! Instead of recognizing that she was lost, she remembered.

I do not desire the destruction of the Earth.

She did not believe that the Theomach had aided her entirely for his own ends. He had given her as many hints has he could without violating the integrity of the Land's history.

In this circ.u.mstance*

And he had risked revealing secrets to Berek Halfhand in her presence; secrets which she would never have known otherwise.

-her mind cannot be distinguished from the Arch of Time.

She accepted the danger. She was Linden Avery, and did not choose to be defeated.

Bracing her Staff in the trough of EarthBlood, she shouted in her son's name. ”Melenkurion abatha! Duroc minas mill! Harad khabaalr Instantly her fire was multiplied. It seemed to increase a hundredfold; a thousand-She herself became stronger, as if she had received a transfusion of vitality. The fear-even the possibility-that she might fall and perish dropped from her. The Staff steadied itself in her clasp. The whole mountain sang in her veins.

They have done this to my son!

She shouted and shouted, and did not stop. ”Melenkurion abathal' And as she p.r.o.nounced the Seven Words, both Roger's pyrotic fury and the croyels invisible repulsion were driven back. ”Duroc minas mill!” Roger gaped in sudden fright. The abominable gaze of the creature wavered, considering retreat. ”Harad khabaar Flames like a volcanic convulsion staggered her foes.

And the Skyweir's deepest roots answered her.

From Rivenrock, she had felt the imminence of an earthquake. Roger had confirmed it. It'll be ma.s.sive. I rrefusable pressures were acc.u.mulating in the gutrock; natural forces so cataclysmic that they would split the tremendous peak. But it won't happen for years and years.

He had not expected her to fight so fiercely. Their battle must have triggered a premature tectonic s.h.i.+ft; loosed a rupture before its time.

She did not care. The granite's visceral groan meant nothing to her. She fought for her son, and went on shouting; invoking Earthpower on a scale that staggered her foes. When the floor of the cave lurched as though the whole of Melenkurion Skyweir had shrugged, she gave no heed.

But Roger and the croyel cared. Consternation twisted his blunt features: he feared the mountain's violence. And the creature turned away from her, apparently seeking escape. They a.s.sailed her for a moment longer. Then the stone lurched again, and abruptly they fled.

”Melenkurion abatha!”

Pausing only to retrieve Jeremiah's crumpled racecar, Linden followed them; harried them with fire. As she pursued them along the tunnel, she continued to shout with all of her strength. And she trailed the end of her Staff in the rivulet so that she would not lose the Earth Blood's imponderable might.

”Duroc minas mill!”