The Last Dark by Stephen R. Donaldson Page B

did, still within sight of their companions. Arms folded across her cataphract, the Ironhand stood rigid, waiting for Linden to speak.
    Linden understood her attitude: she read it in the lines of Coldspray’s visage, the set of her shoulders. The Ironhand was not reluctant to talk to Linden. Instead she was shaken to the core by the sight of stars dying; by the sheer scale of what was being lost.
    “Here’s my problem,” Linden began. Reluctance and doubt made her brusque. “I don’t know what to think of Jeremiah. He’s my
son
. Seeing him like this is like seeing a new dawn. But I don’t know what’s happening to him—or in him. After what he’s been through, I don’t understand how he can be so eager. It doesn’t seem natural.
    “Mahrtiir thinks that I should trust him.”
Far more than his wounds have been restored to him, and to you
. “That’s hard for me. Where I come from, people who have been outrageously damaged don’t suddenly become whole. I know that I haven’t said much about my former life.” She had been shot through the heart. Where she had been born—where she belonged—she had no life left. “But back then, I was a doctor. A healer.” Such assertions felt false to her now. She claimed them only so that Coldspray would understand her. “I specialized in trying to help people with broken minds. And I never saw any of them recover completely without facing what happened to them. Not once.
    “I’m afraid for him, Coldspray. I’m afraid of what might happen to him if he can do what he has in mind. I’m afraid of what might happen if he can’t.”
    Either outcome might enable Lord Foul to claim him.
    Brusque herself, Coldspray asked, “Is your health-sense now dulled?”
    Linden shook her head. “Kevin’s Dirt works slowly. It hasn’t had time to affect me yet.”
    “Then I cannot counsel you as you wish to be counseled. Your son is closed to my discernment, as you are. Your perceptions exceed any that I am able to proffer.”
    More softly, the Ironhand admitted, “Yet I am able to conceive of no course more worthy of our hearts and lives than his. What greater deed can we attempt, few as we are, and friendless in this gloom? For that reason alone, I would follow him wheresoever his eagerness leads. But there is more.
    “Linden Giantfriend, my spirit is wracked by the deaths of stars. In their name, my counsel is young Jeremiah’s. We must do what lies within our strength to preserve the
Elohim
.”
    Before Linden could respond, Coldspray continued, “Nevertheless your son’s purpose is perilous.” Her tone tightened. “Indeed, its hazards are extreme. Should he succeed in his intent, he will draw every surviving
Elohim
to him. Doing so, he will also draw the Worm. They are its food. It will seek them out. Therefore his portal, his door, will require defense. It will require a defense greater than eight Swordmainnir, or eight score, or eight hundred can provide.
    “For this reason, the choice must be yours. You alone among us wield true power.” Sternly she concluded, “Knowing the plight of the heavens, you will not turn aside.”
    Perilous, Linden thought. Oh, Jeremiah! The same concern had occurred to her, although she had not gauged its implications so concretely. She dreaded what it might require of her.
    Without realizing that she had lifted her eyes, she found herself staring skyward, transfixed by the calamity overhead. A gloom like bereavement covered the Lower Land. For all she knew, it covered the whole world. It would never be relieved.
    Then she realized that Rime Coldspray was right. She would not turn aside. She could not.
    Nevertheless the Giants clearly did not grasp all that Jeremiah’s desires entailed. They were dangerous, yes; but there was more. They meant that Linden would have to leave him. Abandon him to his peril. So that she could find a way to ward his construct when it was complete. In spite of her Staff and Covenant’s ring, she was too