“Ringthane!” Mahrtiir barked once. Then he shouted at the Giants, “Set us upon our feet! Coldspray Ironhand, hear me! We must do what we can to conserve the last of your strength. We are useless here. Only your weapons and valor may hope to ward us. Release your burdens! Free us to run unaided! I do not fear that we will outpace you.”

Attempts must be made—

The clamor of the Waynhim and ur-viles complicated the sound of drizzling water, the implied shrieks of chewed granite. But even the tension of the Demondim-spawn could not contradict the mounting labor of the bane’s advance.

For a moment, Coldspray faltered as if her courage had failed. Then she clenched her teeth, squared her shoulders.

“Swordmainnir, the Manethrall counsels wisely. I will continue to bear the boy and the croyel, but you must entrust Linden Giantfriend and Covenant Timewarden to the Haruchai. The Manethrall and his Cords will watch over the Stonedownor and the old man. You must be able to wield your swords.”

Promptly her comrades obeyed. As Grueburn and the other Giants put down their charges, Coldspray turned to the Ardent. “Do you require—?”

He shook his head. “I will not hamper you. If the powers of the Insequent do not suffice to preserve me, doubtless I will perish. Yet while I may, I will strive for life.” He attempted a wan smile. “Mayhap a surfeit of terror will amend my deficit of hardiness.”

Stave grasped Linden’s right arm. Liand held her left. The Humbled accepted Covenant from Cirrus Kindwind. Pahni flung an imploring look at Liand, then took Anele’s hand and drew the old man to join Bhapa with Mahrtiir. The older Cord hooked elbows with the blinded Manethrall to guide him.

Centipedes had crawled into Linden’s ears. She heard them gibbering. She clung to her Staff as if it might keep her sane. But Law and Earthpower had no will of their own. They could accomplish nothing that she did not ask of them; and the rain leeched away her ability to ask. In spite of Caerroil Wildwood’s runes, the wood’s bright flame began to gutter and die.

“Go!” the Ironhand ordered harshly. “I will not lag.” She may have thought that Linden would understand her. “My comrades will follow as swiftly as our straits permit.”

Lit by orcrest and the krill’s gem, and by unsteady gusts of Staff-fire, the company fled after the Demondim-spawn.

Galt, Clyme, and Branl rushed Covenant into motion. Almost immediately, Bhapa and Mahrtiir caught up with them, as did Pahni and Anele. The old man was not loath to run. In spite of his imperfect comprehension, he was intimately familiar with flight. On any form of rock, he had no need for vision.

Tugged along by Stave and Liand, Linden trotted so that she would not fall. But she could not turn her head away from the end of the cavern; the sick and rotting stone; the rising violence that disturbed the pool. The stink of disease accumulated around her until it filled her lungs with every breath.