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

crested the rim, passed between the sandstone sentinels, and started down the long slope northward, they eased their pace to a light-footed canter. Their strides raised a low drum-roll from the baked ground; yet when Linden settled herself to Hyn’s rhythm, she found that she would not need to shout in order to make herself heard.
    Ahead of her, Kevin’s Dirt expanded its maleficence by slow increments. Fortunately its peril was not exacerbated by
caesures
. Their absence troubled her on Covenant’s behalf—they might now be aimed at him as he approached Ridjeck Thome—but it also reassured her. For the moment, at least, she, Jeremiah, and Stave were relatively safe.
    Relying on the former Master and the Ranyhyn to warn her at need, she turned her attention entirely on her son.
    “Jeremiah?” She resisted an impulse to raise her voice over the rattle of hooves. “Can you hear me all right?”
    He flashed a grin at her. “Sure, Mom. I’ve been listening to you my whole life. I could probably hear you if you whispered half a mile away.”
    That simple answer was enough to stun her for a moment. Covenant had assured her,
None of the love you lavished on your son was wasted
.
That isn’t even possible
. All those years of speaking her love to Jeremiah without any response—and yet he had heard her. More amazing still, he had believed her in spite of what the Despiser and his natural mother had done to him.
    Until we know more about what’s happened to him, just trust yourself.
    A fresh rush of emotion made her awkward. “Then you’ve probably already figured out most of the questions I want to ask.”
    “Maybe.” He cocked his head to one side, considering. “Let’s see.
    “That
croyel
”—he made a spitting noise—“used me to say all kinds of things. You want to know how many of them are true.”
    Linden nodded mutely. Everything about Jeremiah seemed to have the power to astound her.
    “Well,” he continued slowly, “a lot of them were. True, I mean.” His voice held a note of caution, as if there were details that he wanted to avoid. “Mom, you tried hard to take care of me. I know that. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t reach me. I just hurt too much. But giving me those racetrack pieces was like a miracle. I don’t know how you came up with the idea, but it was perfect.
    “Using those bones”—he gestured behind him—“was the second time I managed to make a—I don’t know what else to call it—a door for my mind. That racetrack was the first. I couldn’t do anything with my body except build. I wanted to. I just couldn’t. But with my mind—
    “Most of what the
croyel
said about that was true. When I went through my door, I was here. I mean, not
here
.” He indicated the arid landscape. “I mean in the Land. In this world. But I was still just a mind. I was just kind of floating around. In one time or another. One place or another. I couldn’t touch anything, or talk to anybody.
    “But there were people that noticed me anyway. Powers. Beings. And if they noticed me, they could talk to me. The Vizard was one, like the
croyel
said. He wanted to use me. The Viles once, but they weren’t interested. I think I met a Demimage, but he couldn’t figure out what I was. A couple of Ravers. They
wanted
me.” Jeremiah shuddered. “A few
Elohim
, but mostly they tried to convince me to go away and not come back.” With a snort of derision, he added, “Like that was going to happen. It was the only escape I had. I couldn’t give it up.”
    “And Covenant?” Linden asked carefully. “Did the
croyel
tell the truth about him?”
    “As much as that monster could stand,” Jeremiah replied without hesitation. She heard gratitude in his voice, saw affection in the brown warmth of his eyes. “I mean about the real Covenant. Not about Roger. The real Covenant talked to me more than all the rest put together.
    “He talked like he actually cared about me.”
    Treading as cautiously as she could, Linden probed for more. “What did he say?”
    The boy grinned at her again. “He told me I could count on you. Like I didn’t know that already. If I needed you, you would do anything to help me, even if it was impossible. He said you have no idea how strong you really are. He said it makes you wonderful.”
    Wonderful—? That idea stunned Linden once more. It closed her throat; almost brought her back to tears. For long, terrible days, she had been tormented by the fear that her