One Tree by Stephen R. Donaldson Page B

mood of his telling was sad; but its sadness did no harm.
    “Yet the devoured stars were beings as unlike to us as gods, and no Worm or doom could consume their power without cost. Having fed hugely, the Worm became listless and gravid. Though it could not sleep, for the eon’s end of its slumber had not come, it felt a whelmingdesire for rest. Therefore it curled its tail about itself and sank into quiescence.
    “And while the Worm rested, the power of the stars wrought within it. From its skin grew excrescences of stone and soil, water and air, and these growths multiplied upon themselves and multiplied until the very Earth beneath our feet took form. Still the power of the stars wrought, but now it gave shape to the surface of the Earth, forging the seas and the land. And then was brought forth life upon the Earth. Thus were born all the peoples of the Earth, the beasts of the land, the creatures of the deep—all the forests and greenswards from pole to pole. And thus from destruction came forth creation, as death gives rise to life.
    “Therefore, Chosen,” said Pitchwife firmly, “we live, and strive, and seek to define the sense of our being. And it is good, for though we compose a scant blink across the eyes of eternity, yet while the blink lasts we choose what we will, create what we may, and share ourselves with each other as the stars did ere they were bereaved. But it must pass. The Worm does not slumber. It merely rests. And the time must come when it is roused, or rouses itself. Then it will slough off this skin of rock and water to pursue its hunger across the cosmos until eon’s end and slumber. For that reason, it is named the Worm of the World’s End.”
    There Pitchwife fell silent. Linden glanced at him, saw his gaze fixed on Galewrath as though he feared the limitations of her strength. But the Storesmaster did not falter. While her partner balanced the coracle, she went on articulating her rhythm steadfastly, reaching out into the deeps for an answer. Ripples danced around the edges of the drum and were swallowed by the flat calm of the Sea.
    Slowly Pitchwife turned his eyes to Linden; but he seemed not to see her. His mind still wandered the paths of his tale. Gradually however, he came back to himself. When his sight focused, he smiled in bemusement.
    “Chosen,” he said lightly, as if to soften the import of his words, “it is said that the
Nicor
are offspring of the Worm.”
    That announcement brought back her anxiety. It gave her her first hint of what the Giants were doing, how they meant to move the ship. Perhaps his tale was nothing more than a myth; but it accounted for the purpose which had galvanized the
dromond
. Implications of peril pulled her attention outward, sent her senses hunting over the inert Sea. She could hardly believe what she was thinking. Do they mean to capture—?
    Before she could ask Pitchwife if she had understood him correctly, a distant thrumming like a sensation of speed touched her feet through the stone of Starfare’s Gem. An instant later, a shout cracked across the masts.
    “
Nicor!
”
    The cry snatched her around. Searching the shrouds, she saw a Giant pointing southward.
    Other shouts verified the first. Linden’s gaze reached for the starboard horizon. But she could descry nothing. She held her breath, as if in that way she could force her vision into focus.
    More with her feet than her ears, she heard Galewrath’s rhythm change.
    And the change was answered. Thudding beats echoed against the keel of the
dromond
. Something had heard Galewrath’s call—and was replying.
    Abruptly the horizon broke as a surge of water like a bow-wave rose out of the calm. The Sea piled upward as though a tremendous headwere rushing forward just below the surface. The surge was still a great distance away, but it came toward the ship at a staggering rate. The wave slashed out to either side, climbing higher and higher until it looked large enough to swamp the