The Last Dark: The climax of the entire Thomas Covenant Chronicles (Last Chronicles of Thomas Cove)

himself while his spirit remained within the Arch.”
    Linden had not forgotten.
You’ll have to go a long way to find your heart’s desire. Just be sure you come back.
    “In Andelain,” the Manethrall continued, gathering force as he spoke, “Covenant Timewarden avowed, ‘There is no doom so black or deep that courage and clear sight may not find another truth beyond it.’ For that reason, and in the name of prophecy, and because I must, I will accompany Linden Avery, Chosen and Ringthane, Wildwielder.
    “In the endeavor which young Jeremiah contemplates, I have no part. Yet I am Ramen, attuned to the Ranyhyn, and also acquainted with the perils of passages within Falls. Where I am weak,
amanibhavam
will sustain me. I will not fail the Ringthane.”
    Jaw jutting, he averred, “I speak for my people. We must become more than we have been, lest we prove unworthy of the Ranyhyn. The tale of the Ramen is too small to justify the service which defines us.”
    Coldspray and her people studied him with darkness in their faces. Some of them still wished to protest, especially Latebirth, who had often carried the Manethrall. Others showed resignation or grief, or waited uncertainly for their Ironhand’s reply. But Linden bowed her head and let new gratitude flow through her. Although she wanted Mahrtiir with her, she had been loath to ask so much of him. His unrequested willingness eased her reluctance.
    After a long moment, Rime Coldspray raised her voice into the twilight. “Manethrall of the Ramen, I am abashed.” Her tone was gentler now, and more sorrowful. “I confess it, Giant though I am. Eyeless, your sight is clear where mine is clouded. We must accede to your counsel.”
    “Then,” Mahrtiir returned, “I bid you farewell for a time. May our absence be brief. For my part, I am certain of you. When you have set your hearts to any purpose, you will accomplish it. So it was said of the Unhomed, and so it is with you. But where their tale has grown dim with age, yours will shine out, illuminating the last days of the Earth.”
    Hurrying as if he feared that Linden might object, the Manethrall turned to her. While she sat with her head lowered and a dull ache in her chest, he asked, “Ring-thane, shall we depart?” An eagle’s eagerness sharpened his voice. “That you are sorely weary is plain. Yet delay will not restore you. Doubtless you desire to be reconciled with your son. Yet delay will not comfort him. He spoke thoughtlessly, and will recant when he is calmer. I do not doubt that he will greet your return with joy.”
    “All right.” Linden did not raise her head. “All right.” Carefully she took a last drink from her waterskin. Then she rested her hands on the blackness of her Staff. “We should go while I’m too tired to be terrified.”
    Still without looking at her friends, she said, “Coldspray, Grueburn, all of you—I’m not worried about you.” Instead of facing anyone, she studied Caerroil Wildwood’s runes as if they might suddenly reveal their meaning. “You’re
Giants
. If it can be done, you’ll do it.”
    Her weakness and dread were a sickness in the pit of her stomach, a foretaste of nausea and hornets and gelid emptiness as cruel as a chasm. They seemed bottomless.
    “But, Stave—” she added unnecessarily. “Be sharp.” She could not meet his gaze. “At some point, someone is going to try to stop Jeremiah. I hope that Mahrtiir and I can come back before that happens. If we don’t, Jeremiah and the Giants will need everything that you have in you.”
    The former Master regarded her with no expression that her nerves could interpret. “Linden Avery, I have said that uncertainty is an abyss.” His flat voice contradicted the gust and swirl of the wind; the plumes of dust. “Nevertheless I do not fear it. Only your self-doubt troubles me. You esteem yourself too slightly. For that reason, you are prone to darkness—and for that reason alone. Forget such concerns. You are not Kevin Landwaster. Remember, rather, that you are loved by those who know you well.
    “Go blessed by the goodwill of your companions here, and by the stalwart aid of the Manethrall, and by the prowess of the Ranyhyn. It may chance that you will accomplish something other than your intent. Yet good will come of it ere the end.”
    “All right,” Linden repeated. What else could she say? But still she did not lift her head or rise to her feet. Her mortality was too heavy for her to