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

taken him? She nearly cried out. Covenant had not told her. No one had warned her.
    Her son must have inherited more than Earthpower from Anele.
    I want Lord Foul
dead
. How else did she expect him to feel? She had once been possessed herself. The force of her own desire to see the Despiser’s end made her tremble.
    Nevertheless she had to offer Jeremiah something. She had to try.
    Hoarse with empathy and suppressed outrage, she asked, “Don’t you think that maybe we all feel that way? He’s the Despiser. He’s spent eons doing as much harm as he can to the whole world. Don’t you think that maybe everyone you know wishes he could be destroyed?”
    Quick as a slash, Jeremiah retorted, “But you aren’t useless! Covenant isn’t. The Giants are strong. Stave and Branl are strong. Covenant has his ring. You have a ring and the Staff of Law. I’ve already used up everything I know how to do. Now I’m just nothing.”
    It was too much. Without pausing to consider what she said, Linden snapped, “That’s how
I
feel.
I’ve
already used up everything I know how to do.” Before he could protest or withdraw, she explained, “Oh, I understand what you’re saying. And you’re right. Of course you are. There are probably all kinds of things I can do that you can’t. But, Jeremiah,
I don’t know what they are
. I’ve done everything I can think of. It doesn’t matter how much power I have because I have no idea what to do with it.” Her son also had power. “Compared to the Worm—hell, compared to the
Despiser
—I’m as useless as you feel.” Deliberately she made her heart as naked as his. “We have the same problem. What’s happening is too big for us. It’s just too big.”
    Jeremiah did not look at her. He stood half turned away like a boy who wanted to run and hide; a boy who already knew where he could go to feel safe. But he did not go. She felt his attention cling to her while his fears and his pain urged him to flee.
    “Then how?” he asked like a waif too lonely to wail. “How do you go on?”
    Linden did not hesitate. “I’ve been here before.” She had come too far to falter now. “That’s the advantage of being older. I’ve been here before. With Thomas. I’ve seen what he can do. Maybe
I’ve
come to the end of what I can do, but
he
hasn’t. And he doesn’t believe Lord Foul can’t be stopped. He doesn’t even believe the world can’t be saved.”
    Thinking, Listen to me, Jeremiah.
Hear
me, she finished, “As long as that’s true, I won’t give up. I will not give up.”
    After a long moment, she added, “And I certainly won’t give up on you.”
    His struggle was terrible to watch. He knew how to protect himself. His craving for the sanctuary of graves was visible in the way he stood, in the clench of his fists and the hunch of his shoulders. Sharing herself, Linden had not reassured him: she had precipitated a crisis which he had been fighting to avoid. But he also had reason to know that safety was a trap; that every sanctuary was also a prison. On some deep level, he had chosen to free himself from his long dissociation. More consciously, he had chosen to do what he could for the
Elohim
. He understood the choice that his mother wanted him to make now.
    In the same tone—forlorn and frail and alone—he told her, “I’ll try.”
    Then he let Linden hug him.
    With that she had to be content. Perhaps it was enough.

    hen she and Jeremiah left the temple to rejoin their companions, Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir stood among them.
    As before, he wore an aura of isolation, of harmonized and hermetic concentration, as if he were essentially alone. His eyeless visage did not regard the Giants or the horses. He appeared to ignore the
Haruchai
and the Unbeliever. Nevertheless something in his stance or his singing conveyed the impression that he was aware of Linden. Melodies seemed to skirl around her like promises or compulsions.
    Under the gemmed leaves and boughs of the willow, his music sounded like wrath.
    Covenant came to her at once, kissed her quickly, studied her with anxiety in his eyes. But she only returned his kiss and nodded: she did not answer his unspoken question. What he wanted to know would have to come from Jeremiah—and at that moment, Jeremiah clearly did not mean to say anything. His face wore a sullen glower which masked his heart.
    The Giants greeted her and Jeremiah with wry smiles and troubled frowns. Instead of asking questions, however, they busied