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

her senses. Its might blotted out the heavens. Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir’s light had become tiny in the face of the tremendous black. Nevertheless she saw the change of pace, not at the storm’s core, but at its near edge.
    Stave was right. The Worm was slowing down. It was actually
slowing down
.
    And slowing more and more as the Forestal’s denial stiffened.
    “Hell and blood!” Covenant yelled. “He’s doing it! He’s by God
doing it
!”
    Manethrall Mahrtiir, who had found his heart’s desire—and had come back.
    It was not enough. Running as they were, Linden and her companions might escape the storm. If the Worm came to a complete halt—if it paused to confront the Forestal, however briefly—they might evade the lightning; the worst of the vehemence. But that alone would not save them. The World’s End might then turn from Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir to follow the scent of EarthBlood. If it did, the storm would leave the bower and the fane intact. Instead it would swing in
this
direction, away from the ridge. With one lunge, the Worm would send its ferocity raving toward the riders and the Giants. They would die like Joan in her former world, burned by blasts which no mortal flesh could withstand.
    Still the Worm
was
halting. For this one moment, at least, the Forestal sufficed.
    Without warning, Covenant also halted. Wrestling with the reins, he forced Mishio Massima to obey him. While the rest of the company wheeled in confusion, he swung out of the saddle, snatched at the bundled
krill
, uncovered the blaze of the gem.
    Waving his arms, he shouted, “Get together! As close as you can! I don’t know how long Mahrtiir can forbid that thing! We have to get
out
of here!”
    Linden gaped at him. She felt snared by the Worm and the storm and Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir; unable to break free. But Hyn heeded Hynyn’s whinny, or Rallyn’s. In a rush, the mare crowded close to Hynyn and Khelen. Frantically the Ironhand and her comrades formed a tight cordon around Linden, Stave, and Jeremiah. Only Covenant and Branl, Mishio Massima and Rallyn stood apart.
    Branl had dismounted beside Covenant. With negligent ease, the Humbled tossed Longwrath’s flamberge to the nearest Giant. At once, Covenant pitched himself into Branl’s arms. As Branl crouched low, Covenant stabbed the
krill
’s blade into the dirt.
    Bright silver bloomed from the cut. Sustained by white gold and will, it clung to the ground as though it fed from a trough of oil.
    Swift as only the
Haruchai
could be, Branl carried Covenant around the company while Covenant dragged the point of High Lord Loric’s dagger through the earth. And as they moved, the
krill
gouged a shining line in the earth, a curve becoming a circle.
    Dirt was not tinder. It was not wood or oil. Nonetheless it held Covenant’s power, undaunted by the gale, while the curve extended to enclose the company.
    More quickly than Linden would have thought possible, Covenant and Branl completed their circle.
    Immediately the Humbled surged upright. Still carrying Covenant, he sprinted for the horses. Tossing Covenant deftly into Mishio Massima’s saddle, Branl leapt for Rallyn’s back.
    Now the line of light began to gutter and fade. But Covenant did not hesitate. With his left hand, he slapped his wedding band against the dagger’s jewel.
    Sudden incandescence surrounded the company. Without transition, the world vanished.
    Linden heard herself cry out for Mahrtiir, but there was nothing that she could do.

2.
    Toward Confrontation

    Linden Avery had passed through
caesures
. She had been taken out of her time by Roger Covenant and the
croyel
, and had been returned by the compassionate lore of the Mahdoubt. The arcane abilities of the Harrow and the Ardent had conveyed her to and from the Lost Deep. Most recently, Caerroil Wildwood’s last deed in life had restored her to her present.
    Nevertheless she was not prepared for the sensations of being rushed out of time and space within a circle of wild magic.
    If she could have stood apart from herself and watched, she might have noted the similarity between this translation and the reflexive evasion of linear time which had preserved her and Anele from the collapse of Kevin’s Watch. She might have recognized that she and her companions occupied a void like a bubble in the blood of reality, an embolism that floated on its own currents, ignoring the natural pulse and flood of life. She might have realized that she herself was alight;