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

sight, something inside Linden snapped. Stave was her friend, one of the first. He had supported her against the combined repudiation of the Masters—and had paid a cruel price. Her eyes filled with tears: she called up more fire as if her Staff’s flames were sobs. But she did not reach out as she had to Bluntfist. Instead she cocooned herself in conflagration. Then she carried the dark blaze of her pain to Stave and wrapped her arms around him.
    And he returned her embrace as though he had grown accustomed to such familiarity. Accustomed to setting aside his native stoicism.
    A sigh of relief passed among the Giants. Jeremiah whispered, “Mom. Mom,” as if she made him proud.
    When she finally let Stave go, she was calmer. Quenching her power, she made the
krill
’s illumination brighter in contrast. Still her eyes were full of darkness, as if her Staff’s stain lingered in them. Trying to imagine how she had gained Mahrtiir’s transformation—and how she had managed her return—Covenant shivered. He could only be sure that the cost had been high. But now at last she looked
present
, as if she had been reclaimed by the time where she belonged.
    That was well. The barriers inside him had broken. He could no longer remain silent.
    He wanted to fall to his knees before her, abase himself somehow, plead with her. But self-recrimination was an expensive indulgence: he could not afford it. Controlling himself, he held her gaze until he was sure that he had her attention.
    Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir’s sapling had become a young tree. Its leaves were spangled with melody as if the notes of his song were stars. And beneath the expanding spread of the branches, a furze of grass sprouted from the barren ground, punctuated by undefined clumps that might grow into shrubs. A liquid sound ran faintly through his singing like a promise of water.
    To Linden, Covenant said, “I killed her,” as if the words burned his mouth, raised blisters on his tongue. “I killed Joan. I promised myself I would give up killing. Now I hardly do anything else.”
    Like the voice of the night, Branl asserted, “It was not murder.” Like an echo. “It was mercy.”
    Stave nodded his assent.
    Covenant ignored the
Haruchai
. He concentrated on Linden’s frown, and her eyes, and the tightness of her mouth.
    “The Feroce cleared the way. Dozens of them died against the
skest
. Branl and Clyme helped me through a
caesure
so I could reach her. She was going to finish me, but Mhornym and Naybahn distracted her. I killed her with the
krill
. I didn’t know what else to do.”
    Linden seemed to gather darkness where she stood, as if she were pulling the night around her, wrapping herself in shadows. “Good!” she snapped: a flare of vehemence like a reiteration of Jeremiah’s rage at Kastenessen.
    Abrupt anger swelled in Covenant. “There was a tsunami.” Joan had suffered too much. “It could have crushed us.” Her weakness had not merited the use which Lord Foul had made of her. His voice rose, impelled higher by fury or supplication. “Branl and Clyme and the Ranyhyn saved me.
    “Hell
fire
, Linden.” His own heart was as raw as hers. “Do you remember Brinn? Now that the Worm’s awake, he doesn’t have anything else to do. He showed up after the tsunami to tell us
turiya
was going to possess the lurker. We went to try to stop that from happening.”
    Then he forced himself to stop. In spite of his ire and numbness, he felt Linden withdrawing. She did not step back, but her frown became a scowl as her features closed against him.
    “Why are you angry at me?” Her voice shook. “I haven’t touched you. I wasn’t even here.”
    Covenant swore at his clumsiness, his difficult, stymied honesty. He bit down on his wrath hard enough to draw blood.
    “I’m not angry at you. I’m ashamed. It’s not the same thing.”
    Jeremiah may have tried to intervene. If so, the Giants kept him quiet.
    “What are you ashamed of?” Linden sounded impossibly distant, as if she had retreated to a redoubt where he could not hope to reach her. “You put Joan out of her misery. She wasn’t just in terrible pain. She was possessed. Death was the only way to give her any relief. And you stopped her
caesures
. Why is that something to be ashamed of?”
    “Because I failed!” Covenant wanted to hit someone, anyone. If he could have felt what he was doing, he would have torn at his hair. Instead he knotted his insensate fingers together and