Already he was exposed to any blow that she failed to intercept. Through the clang of weapons and pain, she heard the iterated refrain of his compulsions.

“Must.”

“Cannot.”

As he worked his way down the last boulders, however, his “Cannot” sank to a whimper. “Must” became a cracked-voiced shout.

Cavewights fought forward from the east and west; closed like the jaws of a trap. More creatures gained the ridge just beyond the reach of Rime Coldspray’s glaive, Grueburn’s and Cabledarm’s longswords. Even with the strong support of Stave and Branl, three Giants were not enough. Weak with wounds, Mahrtiir could no longer stand or struggle. In the west, Kindwind, Latebirth, and Clyme fell back involuntarily. Together Stonemage, Bluntfist, and Galesend appeared around the edge of the cairn, slashing fervidly as they retreated.

None of them were enough.

Linden had no choice: she had to swallow her desire to kill Roger Covenant. She and all of her companions were about die. If Galt slew the croyel now, he would be too late: even the undefined magicks of the krill could not hold back so many assailants. But if he did not, he would be slain himself, and the monster would escape with Jeremiah.

In either case, Covenant would fall soon after the rest of the company.

Raging the Seven Words like curses, Linden turned the black fury of her Staff against the nearest Cavewights. Struck by her force and frenzy, they burst into flame like kindling; staggered away screaming in agony as they perished.

But while she scorched the bones of her immediate assailants, she could do nothing to hinder Roger. He was free at last to strike in any manner that pleased him.

Yet he did not. Instead he withheld his virulence. Standing alone on his hilltop with his hands braced on his hips, he yelled triumph at the battle.

More Cavewights surged closer, and were set afire, and died. The heat of their burning scalded Linden’s eyes. It drove the Giants, Stave, and the two Humbled back to form a final cordon around Linden and Galt, Jeremiah and the croyel. Nevertheless Roger’s army continued to surge through the bonfires of dying creatures. The Ramen and Covenant were given up for lost.

Pure and dazzling as a cynosure of coercion or doom, Anele thrust his way into the center of the cordon.

Through Linden’s torrents of flame, he said distinctly, “It was for this. Sunder my father and Hollian my mother urged me to it, but I have always been conscious of my fate. I live only because I am the Land’s last hope.”

His eyes were the precise hue and brightness of orcrest as he confronted Jeremiah. With both hands, he reached for the sides of Jeremiah’s head. In one, he gripped the Sunstone urgently. The other he held open as though he meant to stroke the boy’s cheek.