Swift as thought, the former Master sprang to Covenant’s side; dropped to one knee. With both fists, he began punching at the stump as if he imagined that he could batter it apart.

The wood was too hard for him; too old and enduring. It could have resisted an axe as easily as it ignored his blows. But Galt, Branl, and Clyme followed his example: they were no more than a heartbeat behind him. Their pounding shook the dead trunk to its roots. The earth seemed to absorb the pain that should have made Covenant let go.

An instant later, Coldspray’s massive fists hammered down onto the stump; struck with the force of bludgeons. The thunder that troubled Anele filled the hollow.

With the Ironhand’s second blow, the wood splintered. Caer-Caveral’s last legacy was shattered as if it had been blasted by lightning.

In that instant, Linden felt a tremor in the ground: a shudder so fundamental that she heard it in the marrow of her bones rather than with her ears. She sensed realities grinding against each other. Briefly the trees and even the grass of Andelain appeared to tremble as if in dread.

Violently released, Covenant staggered backward. If Frostheart Grueburn had not caught him, he would have fallen. Effort or realized agony ripped a howl from the depths of his chest. The krill spun from his grasp: he could not hold it. Shafts and flashes of silver cartwheeled through the branches of the nearby trees, etching every leaf as they passed. Small scraps of skin smoked and melted like wax on the gem as the dagger fell to the grass.

In shreds of illumination, Linden saw the flesh of Covenant’s palms and fingers bubbling—

A tumult of shouts and consternation answered the sight. Ignoring Covenant’s prohibition, the Manethrall commanded his Cords, “Hurtloam! Now!” As Pahni and Bhapa sped away, Liand rushed to help Grueburn support Covenant. With one hand, the Stonedownor snatched at his orcrest as if it were an instrument of healing. Giants protested the sight of Covenant’s hands.

“Haruchai!” roared the Ironhand. “Swordmainnir! A foe extends evil into the heart of Andelain, regardless of the Wraiths. Watch and ward! An attack may follow!”

Like Linden, Coldspray had discerned Joan’s fury. But the Ironhand did not know that it was Joan’s.

Covenant held out his hands as if he were pleading. His breath came in huge excruciated gasps.

Hardly aware of what she did, Linden reached out for the power of the Staff. The Harrow held it, but it was hers: she could feel its ready possibilities. And once before, in the caves of the Waynhim, she had called Earthpower from the Staff when it was some distance away. She could still make use of it—

She could not. The Harrow’s avid claim blocked her. The black wood was lambent with magic and Law; but neither fire nor healing answered her call.