She had brought this upon him. In spite of his youth and ignorance, she had allowed him to accompany her when she fled from Mithil Stonedown. She had taken him to Revelstone, where he had become the first true Stonedownor in many millennia. And she had practically commanded him to risk his life for Jeremiah.

Liand!

She had seen Anele gesture at Liand, asking for the orcrest and sanity: his only defense against possession. But in the frenzy of other pressures, she had ignored the old man’s plea.

Liand!

Here was the result. Still on his knees, Liand leaned against Jeremiah’s legs, resting there with his skull torn open as though he prayed to the idol of a false god.

In a sense, Handir had foretold this. Speaking of Anele, the Voice of the Masters had said, Yet the Earthpower within him cannot be set aside. Therefore his deeds will serve Corruption, whatever his intentions may be. Now Anele had killed Liand.

It was too much. Linden needed to hold Liand in her arms and wail her bereavement; weep herself out of existence. Yet caesures lurched closer. Toward Jeremiah. Joan sent no more; but these five did not dissipate. Instead they raved like hurricanes trapped in spaces too small for them. Joan or turiya Herem had made them strong. And Thomas Covenant’s spirit no longer defended the Arch of Time.

If Linden did not set aside her horror and grief—and if she did not do so now—everyone she loved would be destroyed. Swept away into a future of unrelieved absence and cruel cold. The eventual outcome of Joan’s craziness.

Voices shouted tumult at Linden, but she did not hear Covenant’s among them. Stave said her name with something like urgency. She did not hear him at all.

Battered by storms, she could not look away from Liand and Jeremiah.

The hunger echoing like exaltation from the krill’s gem had begun to ebb. Now the croyel struggled for freedom. Finally it feared the caesures. Jeremiah jerked up his head; his arms. Reaching behind him, he clawed at Galt’s forearm, tried to drag it away from the throat of the creature.

If he shifted Galt’s grasp, the blade would bite into his own neck. Nevertheless he strained to free the croyel.

The Humbled did not move. He betrayed no hint that the heat of wild magic had hurt him. Unyielding as Loric’s dagger, his forearm defied Jeremiah’s efforts.

The Ironhand barked orders, rallied the Swordmainnir. Still on her back, Stormpast Galesend hugged Anele as though she meant to squeeze out his life. Swift as a hawk, Pahni threw herself at Liand.

Through the confusion, Mahrtiir yelled Bhapa’s name.

Instantly obedient, the older Cord rushed to Linden’s side. But she hardly noticed him. She only remained on her feet because Stave held her.