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

steadier, stronger. Even withered,
amanibhavam
retained the potency to restore him. “That was well done. Another moment, and our quest would have failed. No tale of Forestals told among the Ramen makes mention of forbearance. They do not countenance the ravage of their woods.”
    Trembling, Linden extinguished her flames. Well done? she wondered. Really? Mahrtiir was right, of course. She could not expect any Forestal to grant her desires after she had damaged his trees. But now she had no idea how she and her companion would return to their proper time. Too tired to think clearly, she had assumed that she would use the same
caesure
. An impossible idea. It had brought her to the brink of a terrible mistake. Yet the result was that she and Mahrtiir were trapped.
    She could not imagine an escape that did not require another
caesure
, another Desecration. And she could not guess what would happen if she violated Time in this era. Thousands of years separated her from Jeremiah, Stave, and the Giants; from any conceivable reconciliation with Thomas Covenant. The Law of Life had not yet been violated. A time-storm created here might consume every possible future.
    She bit her lower lip in an effort to control herself; but she could not stop trembling. These trees did not belong to Andelain: she was sure now. The forest beyond them was too dark, too angry. And she knew of no time in which the heart of the Land had been gripped by a drought like this. Clearly Hyn and Narunal had ignored her desire to reach Caer-Caveral. So when
was
she?
    Why did the mood of the woodland seem familiar?
    Nagged by the same concerns, Mahrtiir continued, “Yet I confess that I am troubled. Was it not your intent to seek out the Forestal Caer-Caveral? That I conveyed to great Narunal. But this is not Andelain. Plainly it is not. Rather we have come to a place and time unknown to me.” He muttered a Ramen curse. “I cannot account for it. I am certain only that the gifts of the Ranyhyn are unerring. They have turned aside from your wishes for some good purpose.”
    Linden nodded in bafflement. The presence of the great horses nearby offered an oblique solace. Still she could not keep the tremor from her voice as she asked, “Do you recognize anything? Anything at all? Can you guess where we are?”
    The Manethrall scowled above his bandage. “In these straits, Ringthane, blindness hinders me, though I am not constrained by Kevin’s Dirt. I am able to assure you only that I have never stood in this region of the Land.” After a moment of hesitation, he added, “Among the Ramen, however, there are tales—”
    His voice trailed away. Before Linden could prod him, however, he asked, “The trees lie to the north, yes?”
    She nodded automatically, trusting his awareness of her.
    “Are there hills in the east?” he continued. “Do they mount toward mountains?”
    She looked in that direction, summoned Earthpower to increase the range of her senses. “If I’m not mistaken.”
    “And in the west? Do mountains also arise there?”
    Squinting into the distance, she murmured, “I think so.”
    Mahrtiir’s manner became sharper. “One question more, Ringthane. Does a waste extend at our backs? I perceive barrenness. Does it spread to the horizon and beyond?”
    “As far as I can tell. It looks like the edge of a desert.”
    The Manethrall stood taller, straightened his shoulders as if he had found himself in the presence of majesty. “Then I must surmise,” he announced so that the trees and even the wide sky might hear him, “that we stand in the gap of Cravenhaw. Before us lies dire Garroting Deep. Narunal and Hyn have delivered us, not to Caer-Caveral, but to Caerroil Wildwood. If you would speak with him, Ringthane, we must dare his demesne.”
    He sounded almost eager.
    But his words gave Linden a jolt. Details came together, formed connections.
    Caerroil Wildwood. Garroting Deep.
    No wonder the darkness seemed familiar.
    She had encountered Caerroil Wildwood when Roger and the
croyel
had stranded her deep in the Land’s past. At that point in his long life, the Forestal’s puissance was undiminished. He had given her gifts: her life as well as runes for her Staff. In some sense, he had made possible Covenant’s resurrection. And he had charged her with a question.
    How may life endure in the Land, if the Forestals fail and perish, as they must, and naught remains to ward its most vulnerable treasures? We were formed to stand