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

raise his voice, but it thrummed with intensity nonetheless, with the authority of earned conviction. His whole body seemed to imply imminent wild magic. “Ever since I first came here—ever since he and the Creator picked me—my life has been about Lord Foul. He scares me worse than any ordinary death, even if the people I love most are the ones who do the dying. I have to face that. I have to do something about it.
    “Sure, if we could stop the Worm, Foul would be stuck in his prison. But we can’t, and he won’t. Think about that. Think about setting Despite loose in eternity, where it can pollute every new creation just like it’s polluted this one. That’s bad enough. Hellfire,
that’s bad enough
! But it could become even worse. If he gets his hands on Jeremiah, he’ll try to trade places with the Creator. He’ll try to make a prison that will put an end to the very
possibility
of creation. He’ll wipe out everything that has ever lived, everything that ever might live, every conceivable world.
    “If he can do that,
eternity
will become the kind of wasteland we’ve only seen in
caesures
. Then there won’t be anything anywhere ever again. Nothing except scorn until even Lord Foul’s heart breaks.”
    Amid the shocked silence of the company and Linden’s dismay, Jeremiah asked like sneering, “So your solution is to take me
closer
to him?”
    Covenant wheeled his mount to face the boy. “Hell, Jeremiah, he can get you anywhere. All he needs is the right kind of grass and one mistake. Then you’ll give him whatever he wants. That won’t change if we’re a hundred leagues from here fighting the Worm. And you’ll never get a chance to find out what how you feel and what you can do are good for.”
    Then he turned Mishio Massima toward Linden. His eyes blazed with need. “Linden, I’m sorry. I have to do this. Eventually we all have to face the things that scare us most. And I’m not actually convinced that the Worm can’t be stopped. I just don’t think
we
can stop it. There’s more going on here than just the Worm and Lord Foul and Jeremiah and more enemies than we can count. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t believe—I don’t choose to believe—that the way things look to us right now is the whole story. We have two white gold rings and the Staff of Law and Jeremiah’s talent. We have friends who have never let us down. All of that has to be good for something.”
    He might as well have added,
And betimes some wonder is wrought to redeem us.
    But he did not wait for a reply. The naked chagrin on Linden’s face seemed to drive him away. Again he turned his mount.
    To the Ironhand and her Swordmainnir, he said, “So, yes. I do want to go to Mount Thunder. In spite of, or maybe because of, all the obstacles you mentioned. That’s not the mistake I was talking about. The mistake would be to go there the way damn Foul expects.”
    In spite of their deliberate dispassion, the approval of the
Haruchai
was plain.
    Rime Coldspray held up her hands again. “Enough, Timewarden.” She and her comrades studied him with a mixture of rue and wonder. Cabledarm and Latebirth grinned openly. “We cannot protest such passion. For us, any deed which can be attempted is preferable to one which cannot. If your purpose is clear to you, it will suffice for us. Unless,” she added, “Linden Giantfriend reasons against it. Then we will heed her as we have heeded you, and will await the outcome between you.”
    Linden hardly noticed that everyone was looking at her now. She hardly recognized the confusion of dread and hope in Jeremiah’s eyes. The light of the
krill
and Covenant’s extravagance filled her mind with gibbering.
    No. Gibbering and carrion-eaters. Not She Who Must Not Be Named. I can’t.
    And not Lord Foul. Not Jeremiah.
His worth to the Despiser is beyond measure
. I can’t take that chance.
    Nevertheless the bright gem of the dagger held her. Covenant’s gaze held her. She had never been able to refuse him. From the moment of their first meeting on Haven Farm, he had compelled her by simply being who he was.
    Feeling bitter and beaten, she said slowly, “Don’t stop now. Tell us how you think we can get into Mount Thunder. Tell us how you think that’s even possible.”
    He was still her husband.
    A sigh passed among the Giants.
    “Mom,” Jeremiah groaned: a low sound that did not distinguish between protest and relief.
    Covenant’s eyes did not let Linden go. He