Through Esmer’s treachery, they also had become Covenant’s burdens. And Covenant loved Linden. In different ways, he loved all of her friends and companions: even the Masters, who had misled themselves to the brink of the Land’s annihilation. There was no one else who could save them.

Yet he remained lost.

As he examined his circumstances, however, he began to imagine that he was not altogether impotent. Almost by definition, betrayals had flaws. Esmer’s were no different.

The Humbled had caused Covenant to swallow vitrim; and that musty liquid was an unnatural approximation of hurtloam. It provided a partial mimicry of hurtloam’s sovereign healing.

When he had been offered hurtloam in Andelain, he had refused it. He had insisted on numbness and leprosy. It doesn’t just make me who I am. It makes me who I can be.

Now the dour taste and energy of vitrim galvanized his desire to be himself: a leper and pariah who knew better than to heed Despite. Because it was an artificial elixir, it could not bring new life to his nerves. But it made him stronger—

And there was another flaw as well.

Esmer’s effect on him bore no resemblance to the stasis which the Elohim had once used against him. The Elohim had severed him from thought and concern; from any kind of reaction. Esmer had merely knocked him off balance, tripping him into the maze of broken time. He could still think and care and strive. In that sense, he was only lost, not helpless. And anything that could be lost could also be found.

If he climbed high enough, or used his memories in the right way, he might conceivably rediscover his physical present by his own efforts.

If Esmer did not cast him down again.

If.

He had to try. The bane was coming closer.

After uncounted ages within the Arch, Covenant did not have enough time.

She Who Must Not Be Named lifted Herself like a pyre from the burning waters. Even at a distance, She appeared to tower over the company. Her fury shook the ledge in spite of Esmer’s efforts to steady it. For no clear reason except that they were Giants and courageous, all of the Swordmainnir except Rime Coldspray stood at the edge of falling and flames with their weapons ready. They must have known that no mortal blade would cut their foe; yet they confronted Her simply because they refused to accept defeat.

In that respect, they could have been Saltheart Foamfollower’s daughters.