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

and fingers, his toes, the soles of his feet: all oozed blood. But those injuries were trivial. The effects of his impact with Cabledarm’s hands were another matter. His whole body had struck and recoiled like a cracked whip. Now every joint looked torn; every muscle. His internal organs appeared to throb as if they had been beaten with clubs. Blood gathered at the corners of his mouth: he had bitten into his tongue. In spite of his
Haruchai
stoicism, he was trembling.
    He stood, but he seemed unable to speak. Like a man who had been blinded, he stared at nothing. If he felt the presence of his companions, he did not react to it.
    Rime Coldspray studied him for a grim moment. Then she sent Cirrus Kindwind to retrieve a waterskin. She had nothing else to offer him.
    Cabledarm’s wounds were more obvious. They looked worse. Pitching Stave to Stonemage, she had flung herself down the raw edges and fanged splinters of the rubble. Like Stave, she had regained her feet beyond the slope. Unlike him, she stood hunched in pain, hugging her left arm against her chest. Giantish obscenities bubbled like froth past her lips. She was bleeding from half a dozen gashes, at least two of them deep enough to expose bone. Contusions covered her from shoulder to ankle. But her worst injury was to her left shoulder.
    The force of Stave’s plummet had ripped her arm out of his socket. It was dislocated so badly that Jeremiah could hardly bear to look at it.
    “Only you, Cabledarm,” the Ironhand muttered through her teeth. “Only you could emerge so harmed from such a rescue.”
    “It is my gift,” Cabledarm rasped. Then she groaned a curse. “Stone and Sea! Am I not a Giant? And have I not vaunted myself the mightiest of the Swordmainnir? How am I thus humbled by mere falling?”
    “We need Mom,” Jeremiah breathed miserably. “We can’t help her. And Stave looks like he’s going to pass out.”
    But the Giants did not respond. Cabledarm’s dislocation, at least, was hurt which they knew how to address. At a nod from Coldspray, Halewhole Bluntfist moved to stand behind Cabledarm. With one arm on Cabledarm’s left shoulder near her neck, and the other across her chest under her right arm, Bluntfist grasped Cabledarm tightly enough to wring a moan from her comrade. Without a moment’s consideration, Coldspray gripped Cabledarm’s damaged limb and heaved; twisted.
    The sound as the arm slipped back into place hit Jeremiah like a jab to the stomach.
    Cabledarm roared. Briefly she wobbled as if she were losing consciousness. But Bluntfist held her until her faintness passed, and she began to curse again.
    Grimacing, Cabledarm moved the fingers of her left hand, managed a fist. When she was done swearing, she muttered, “It is much and naught, Ironhand. It will hamper me, but it will mend. Only stanch some few of my rents, and I will name myself blessed. Stave Rockbrother lives”—she glanced quickly around—“does he not?” Seeing the answer in the eyes of her comrades, she finished, “Then will I name myself blessed in all sooth.”
    “For the present, however,” the Ironhand commanded, “you will conserve yourself, Cabledarm. Cirrus Kindwind brings water. While you drink and rest, we will contrive bindings for your wounds. You have earned the tales which we will tell of you. Now we will contrive to earn those which you will tell.”
    “Aye,” Cabledarm assented: another groan. With Bluntfist’s help, she lowered herself to the dirt. There she extended one gashed leg so that Bluntfist could try to stop the bleeding.
    Jeremiah saw her injuries too clearly: the rich pulse of her blood and pain made him feel sick. About some things he knew too much. About this he knew too little. He could too easily believe that Cabledarm would bleed to death. That Stave was dying inside.
    Fortunately Kindwind soon returned with several waterskins. Two she tossed to Bluntfist. A third she took directly to Stave.
    Fleeing the sight of Cabledarm’s torn flesh, Jeremiah joined Kindwind.
    Stave did not react to their presence. He remained standing; continued to stare at nothing as though his whole world had become the abyss of the Lost Deep. Tremors ran through him like waves of fever. His hands shook. Even his lips quivered.
    Jeremiah did not know what to say or do. Stave had promised to protect him. This was the result.
    Frowning, Cirrus Kindwind rested her hand on Stave’s shoulder. “You are not alone, Rockbrother,” she