As Galesend obeyed, the Ironhand snapped at Linden, “We cannot prevail against so many—or against such theurgy! We must have your aid!”

Linden understood. Oh, she understood. Still she felt paralyzed, overtaken by confusion and dread. Kastenessen must have told Roger where she was; where Galt held the croyel. But how had Roger and his Cavewights arrived so soon? As far as she knew, he could not transport himself or anyone else magically without the croyel’s help.

Anele appeared to recognize his peril. He clambered frantically up the boulders until he gained the crown of the cairn. There he searched for a niche or covert between the rocks; a place to hide himself.

Crossing the lower hills toward the base of the ridge, the Cavewights howled like ghouls. Their lust for blood was ancient, especially the blood of Giants. In their own eyes, at least, it was justified. The First of the Search and Pitchwife had done much to prevent the resurrection of Drool Rockworm.

Clyme and Branl reached the gypsum ridge well ahead of the creatures. For an instant, they considered the formation of the Giants, regarded Bhapa and Pahni holding Covenant’s arms, consulted mind to mind with Galt. Then Clyme joined the Swordmainnir. Branl stood between Covenant and the coming onslaught. To the Cords, he said flatly, “Flee with the Unbeliever when you must. He must be preserved.”

“How—?” Linden tried to ask Stave. The question stuck in her throat.

Over his shoulder, Stave told Galt, “Again I offer myself in your place. Acquiescence is preferable to murder. If you would give battle, release the krill to me.”

Without hesitation, Galt answered, “I will not. You will retain it when it is required by the Unbeliever. And you will not slay the croyel, whatever the cost. You will name it preferable to see every defender of the Land butchered.”

Stave looked toward Anele, glanced sidelong at Linden. Then he shrugged. Relaxed and ready, he prepared to defend her.

Her friends needed her. And she would never be able to resurrect Covenant again: not if he fell here. She would have to burn as many Cavewights as she could. She would have to oppose Roger with every scrap of her strength.

In the absence of Kevin’s Dirt, she could be mighty—

Yet her greatest fear was for Jeremiah. It shackled her. She could too easily imagine the fluid motion of Galt’s arm as he pulled the krill across the croyel’s throat—

“How,” she managed to croak, “did they get here so fast?”