Part of her wept at her weakness. But that part belonged to the Linden Avery whom she had left behind under Melenkurion Skyweir. The Linden Avery who had stood with Caerroil Wildwood and the Mahdoubt on Gallows Howe did not hesitate.

Surging erect, she kicked furiously at the marred section of the gnarled arm; stomped with the heel of her boot.

Her blow skidded aside. Her own momentum flung her forward. When one kneecap hit the travertine, she felt the bone crack.

Enlivened by Earthpower, her nerves sensed the first flicker of wild magic as the Harrow began to invoke Covenant’s ring. The bastard was going to win—

In spite of her pain, Linden kicked again. Hardly aware of what she did, she started screaming the Seven Words.

“Melenkurion abatha!”

Her second blow struck squarely.

“Duroc minas mill!”

Her third broke a chunk as large as her fist out of Jeremiah’s construct.

“Harad khabaal!”

At once, the inherent power of the construct failed. The ridges lost their darkness. Swiftly the travertine lapsed to a more natural grey.

Staggering, Linden faced a throng of skest.

She barely had time to draw breath, blink tears from her vision, gasp at the agony in her knee. Then Roger Covenant arrived, shedding his glamour directly behind the Harrow.

Ecstatic with triumph, Roger shouted, “SUCK-er!”

Magma blared from his right fist as he punched fury straight through the center of the Harrow’s back.

For an instant, the Harrow gaped at Kastenessen’s hand; at the charred wound where Roger’s fist emerged from his chest. He seemed unable to comprehend what had become of him. Then Roger snatched back his arm; and the Insequent fell dead.

The Staff and Covenant’s ring dropped from his hands.

Chittering incomprehensibly, the skest drew back. Commanded by Roger or the croyel, they cleared a space around Roger, Jeremiah, the Harrow’s corpse. If more of them waited in the corridors, they did not press into the chamber.

Linden’s health-sense had evaporated again, but she was in too much pain to notice the difference. Roger was here. All he had to do now was bend down and pick up his father’s ring. The skest had given him room. He could claim the Staff of Law at the same time, if he wanted it.

His victory would be complete.

Linden had done what she could—and it was too little. She had broken the spell of Jeremiah’s construct. Surely now the Elohim were able to discern his location? Roger she had expected in some fashion. But she had also believed that at least one of the scattered Elohim would care enough to intervene. Or if none of Infelice’s people responded, Kastenessen would—or Esmer—

Here Roger and the croyel could combine their powers. They could escape through time and distance, as they had done before.

Yet no Elohim came. Esmer did not.