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

have done as much.”
    Fresh vertigo sucked at Covenant. Realities shifted into new alignments: their implications veered like the world. Somehow Jeremiah had been rescued from his dissociation, or had saved himself. A mixed blessing: the Earthpower with which Anele had invested Jeremiah had made the boy vulnerable. No wonder Anele had hidden himself in madness; made himself blind. How else could he have concealed his true abilities, his secret purpose, from the Despiser? But Jeremiah did not have the old man’s cunning. Lord Foul would be able to claim the boy whenever Jeremiah chanced to stand on the right surface, the right rough grass.
    The ridge seemed to wobble from side to side, mocking Covenant. There were other inferences—
    Branl had said
we
. He had addressed Stave in the fashion of the
Haruchai
—and he had listened to Stave’s reply. Now he had reaffirmed his kinship with Linden’s friend as if he felt pride in it. He spoke for Stave as well as himself.
    A profound change. If the Humbled had ever needed or desired Covenant’s forgiveness, he earned it now.
    Apparently the Ironhand also had heard and understood Branl’s
we
. She raised the
krill
so that its gem lit the
Haruchai
. Striving for formality, she replied, “There is no aspersion, Branl Humbled. There is only praise, both for Stave and for you—and for Clyme as well. At a better time, we will tell the full tale of Stave Rockbrother’s deeds. We will honor your own. For the present, be assured that we esteem your courage and devoir.”
    Indirectly she steadied Covenant. Breathing deeply to calm his private reel, he muttered, “Then I guess Linden did the right thing when she made Stave stay behind.”
    “Indeed,” assented Coldspray. And Branl said unexpectedly, “In this, the Chosen has shown foresight. I am reminded of matters which Stave has not forgotten concerning her former service to the Land.”
    Another surprise. Covenant frowned through the silver light, and found that he had no response. For a moment, he almost wept.
    None of the Humbled had ever called Linden by her title.
    “And Stave Rockbrother himself?” asked Cirrus Kindwind. “How does he fare? He is closed to our discernment, as you are, Branl Humbled. We fear for him.”
    Branl shrugged to indicate Stave. “This state is not unknown among the
Haruchai
. More commonly, we have recourse to it when we are snared by storms among the high peaks of our homeland. When both passage and shelter cannot be attained, we withdraw as Stave has done to preserve the essence of our lives. Thus we endure the gales, emerging when they are spent. Upon occasion, however, we withdraw similarly to heal otherwise mortal wounds, or mayhap to weather such shocks and virulence as Stave has received. When he has restored himself, he will stand among us once more.”
    Carefully he lowered Stave to the earth, then stepped back to resume his place with Covenant. He may have thought that he had said enough.
    But Covenant had not entirely regained his balance. “Wait a minute,” he objected. “There has to be more to it than that. Stave has touched Kastenessen before, and he wasn’t hurt like this. Something is different now.”
    “It is, ur-Lord,” admitted Branl. But he did not elaborate. Perhaps Stave had not remained conscious long enough to share those memories.
    Rime Coldspray sighed heavily, a gust torn away by the moiling winds. “I am too worn to bear the burden of Stave’s tale. I will say only that he was gravely injured in the raising of young Jeremiah’s fane. We will speak further when we have rested. I cannot remain upon my feet.”
    In fact, Covenant suspected that she was close to fainting. And the condition of her comrades was no better. Cabledarm’s was worse. Even to his blunted sight, it was obvious that the injured Giant could not stand without support.
    “Then don’t worry about it,” he said unsteadily. “We’ll have plenty of time for tales”—a grimace jerked across his face—“unless we don’t, in which case it won’t matter anyway.
    “Is there any shelter around here? We should try to get out of this wind.”
    Grueburn glanced at Jeremiah’s construct. “Can we not find calm within the fane?” She sounded wistful. “I am not so chary of
Elohim
—or indeed of Kastenessen—that I would decline to ease my weariness in their presence.”
    When Covenant followed her gaze, he saw Jeremiah lower himself to the ground. A moment later, the boy