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

could have smashed down a wall. The
Haruchai
could not wrench his blade loose quickly enough to intercept the next creature.
    Wailing, the Feroce brandished their fires as the third Sandgorgon swung a crushing blow at Branl.
    Even his preternatural strength was no match for the creature’s. Yet he was
Haruchai
, and swift. And he had not forgotten the ease with which a Sandgorgon had killed Hergrom, crippled Ceer. He evaded the blow by diving under the creature’s arm. It did not touch him.
    He landed on his feet, whirled back toward the creature. But now he was too far away to protect Covenant; and he had to retrieve his sword.
    At the last instant, the theurgy of the Feroce took hold. The monster slowed its rush directly in front of Covenant.
    Wincing and bitter, he raised the
krill
. The eldritch blade slipped as easily as murder into the Sandgorgon’s heart.
    Blood sprayed from the creature’s gills as it plowed into him. It was already dead. Still the impact sent him sprawling. He lost his grip on the dagger. It tumbled away across the dirt, sending dismembered flashes of argent through the new fog.
    From the ground, he glared wildly at the fourth Sandgorgon as though he imagined that he could defy it with nothing more than his gaze and his anger. Spangles like glints of frenzy gathered around his wedding band; but he had fallen too heavily to wield them.
    Leaping, Branl came down at that creature’s back with the full force and magic of his flamberge.
    The Sandgorgon staggered away in a welter of blood and bone. Its legs folded under it. It pounded its featureless face against the valley bottom while its muscles seized. Then it lay still.
    More Sandgorgons were coming: too many. The first of them had reached the valley. In another moment, it would cross the Defiles Course.
    Branl appeared to shrug as he reached down to clasp Covenant’s hand. In one effortless motion, he snatched the Unbeliever upright. A moment later, he retrieved the
krill
, returned it to Covenant.
    “Now or never,” Covenant gasped at the Feroce. He could hardly breathe. Something in his chest felt broken. “You said the alliance is sealed. We need help
now
.”
    Together he and Branl resumed their ascent along the valley. He lurched in pain. His companion looked as deadly as Longwrath’s sword.
    The Feroce followed at a slight distance. Their fires flared like mewling.
    Linden was not watching. She could not. While she harassed
skurj
furiously, lashing Earthpower and Law at the bright lava of their fangs, another ironwood became instant conflagration. Burning sap burst from its trunk, its boughs, even its leaves. It was close: its heat slapped at her face as an open maw appeared, rabid and ravenous. Uprooted by the monster, the tree pitched down the slope as if it had been hurled aside.
    Frantic and off-balance on the cliff edge of her strength, Linden threw obsidian vehemence at the
skurj
.
    Rime Coldspray stopped her. “Withhold, Giantfriend! Assail more distant threats. We will oppose those that come near!”
    While Coldspray shouted, Latebirth and Bluntfist rushed toward the residue of the blazing tree.
    Linden knew that the Ironhand was right. Still she lost herself in a moment of visceral terror. That monster was
close
. It could tear any Giant apart with one bite.
    Jeremiah called out to her, but his voice seemed to come from the far side of the world. Roaring heat and viciousness muffled every human sound.
    Yelling the Seven Words like curses, Linden flung the outrage of her heart at other
skurj
.
    At least ten now howled beyond the river. Pustules in the dirt promised more. Joining the creature which Latebirth and Bluntfist faced, four had eaten their way underground to burst upward between the company and the watercourse. Linden started to hurt those four. Then she realized that they were not coming toward her. Instead they swarmed around the first monster which she had slain.
    They were feeding. Eating their dead.
    Just for an instant, she believed that she and the Swordmainnir had been granted a respite. But she was wrong. These monsters reproduced by devouring their dead, absorbing the energies of the fallen. Then they split. With sufficient nourishment, one became two. Two might become four—four might become eight—if one dead
skurj
supplied enough brimstone sorcery.
    Horror rattled in Linden’s skull. It stung her whole body as if she had been caught in a rain of pebbles. While the monsters arrived faster than