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

potent against Sandgorgons. Its puissance has faded with disuse, he informed us. But those monsters have come to assail the Land, and we are too few and worn to oppose them. Therefore it is my hope that the blade’s force has not altogether waned.
    “If this weapon retains any virtue, one among us must wield it.”
    A good point, Covenant thought. No matter what happened, the Land’s defenders would need every conceivable weapon. But while the Giants looked at each other and frowned, weighing possibilities, Branl spoke.
    “The ur-Lord will have need of the
krill
, and I have no sword. A Giant’s blade is an inconvenient length in my hands, but its weight does not exceed my strength, or my skill.
    “The
Haruchai
have ever eschewed weaponry. Nevertheless weapons we must have. If our people do not elect to reinterpret their service, they will render their lives effectless in the last crisis. Fists and feet suffice to oppose Cavewights, but they will not harm Sandgorgons or hinder
skurj
.”
    Standing over the flamberge, he watched the women for their reactions.
    Hesitating, the Ironhand asked, “Timewarden?” She seemed loath to let a man who was not a Giant take up Longwrath’s only legacy. She faulted her ancestors for Longwrath’s
geas
. It was the responsibility of the Swordmainnir to attempt amends.
    But Covenant was sure. “Why not?” he returned. “One way or another, we all have to reinterpret our notions of service. That’s what Linden is doing. Stave did it a long time ago. Now Branl is doing the same. Why not let him keep going?”
    Coldspray gave her comrades a chance to object. Some of them scowled or looked away, shifted their feet uncomfortably; but no one contradicted Covenant.
    Finally their leader nodded. “Let it be so. Branl of the
Haruchai
, accept Lostson Longwrath’s flamberge in the name of ancient friendship and faith. May you find worth in it—aye, and give it worth as well—to redeem the tale of a loved Giant thoughtlessly betrayed.”
    Branl’s reply was to take the longsword in both hands. Briefly he swung it around his head as if to demonstrate that he was equal to its heft. Then he stepped back from Longwrath’s corpse, making room for Covenant.
    Stave watched, expressionless as any of his kinsmen. Nevertheless he conveyed the impression that he approved.
    It was time. Covenant had made a promise. Trembling, he drew out Joan’s ring on its chain. With the ring’s uncompromising circle in one hand, he raised High Lord Loric’s
krill
over the dead.
    “Lostson Longwrath,” he began. For the sake of the Giants, he strove to speak formally. “Parents who cherished you named you Exalt Widenedworld, but they couldn’t protect you from being hurt. Forgive one more wound. What you’ve suffered tears the hearts of your people, and I don’t know another way to help them.
    “A natural fire would be better for them, maybe even for you. I know that.” Long ago, he had summoned the Dead of The Grieve into flames to find their release. “But we don’t have any wood. This is the best I can do.
    “Whatever happens, remember that you saved the Giants who knew you best. None of them wanted this to happen. All of them are grieving.”
    Deliberately Covenant put restraint out of his mind; pushed away his old fears of wild magic that refused control. Kneeling at Longwrath’s side, he hammered the
krill
through armor and raiment into Longwrath’s chest.
    At once, the gem blazed with such brightness that it seemed to erupt. Silver incandescence poured over the Giants and the
Haruchai
. It flooded the plain and the temple, drenched Jeremiah, ran up the slope of rubble to the ridge; denied the night. It was not fire, although Covenant thought of it as conflagration, saw it as flame. But it was capable of anything. In the hands of its rightful wielder—sane or deranged, driven by love or
contemptuous of consequence
—it could shatter the foundations of Time. It made Longwrath’s flesh and even his armor burn like kindling.
    And from the heart of the coruscation, Linden Avery came galloping on Hyn’s back with the Staff of Law black as midnight in her hands.

12.
    After Too Long

    The flare of power from the gem resembled a scream. It struck Covenant as if it were tangible, a physical impact. He reeled backward. Quick as gusts, Branl and Stave dodged. The Giants scrambled aside from Linden’s wild rush. They barely hauled Cabledarm out of the way in time.
    In full career, Hyn