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

she and her companions could kill them, they could not be beaten.
    They were arriving much faster.
    She needed wild magic; needed a dozen staffs like hers; needed help.
    There was no help.
    And she did not have time to drop her Staff so that she could invoke her ring. Nor did she have the
krill
or any other catalyst which might ease her access to wild magic. Nor had she learned how to summon silver havoc instantly without aid. If she could have cleared her mind, concentrated her health-sense—
    She was already foundering. Any pause now might be her last mistake.
    Latebirth and Halewhole Bluntfist closed on the nearest creature from opposite sides. They endured the heat only because they were Giants. Latebirth lunged a thrust straight into the monster’s side. But her thrust was a feint. As the jaws of the
skurj
reached for her, she jumped back—and Bluntfist rushed in. Raging like the monster, Bluntfist swung a two-handed cut at its neck with all of her mass and her prodigious strength.
    Unable to stop itself, the
skurj
fell onto a second lunge from Latebirth. Her longsword drove between rows of tearing fangs into the back of the creature’s throat; into the monster’s brain. It collapsed in convulsions.
    Linden and Coldspray shouted a warning simultaneously, and Frostheart Grueburn charged; but they were too late.
    Another
skurj
erupted from the ground almost directly beneath Latebirth’s feet. As if it had detected her scent while it chewed through the dirt, it knew exactly where to strike. She was hauling on her sword, pulling it free, when the monster emerged. In one fluid motion, it surged upward and
bit
—
    Bluntfist sprang to Latebirth’s aid. Grueburn was only three strides away. As if he had forgotten that he was helpless against such foes, Stave followed Grueburn.
    The monster’s jaws caught Latebirth below her arms, front and back. Fangs dug into her armor.
    Latebirth!
    The hardened stone might have preserved her, at least for a moment; long enough for Bluntfist and Grueburn to arrive. But her cataphract was broken on one side, damaged in battle on the way to Andelain. The monster ripped through it as if it were sandstone; tore her open from chest to spine.
    Oh, Latebirth—
    Her killer was still swallowing blood and organs when Bluntfist and Grueburn hacked its throat to shreds. Fresh gangrene stained the earth around them.
    “Ware, Swordmainnir!” the Ironhand roared at the dismay of her comrades. “The
skurj
must not feed!”
    They were Giants, familiar with cruel storms and bitter fighting. They knew how to set their griefs and fears aside.
    Linden did not. Sick with distress, she sent a raving blast into the first creature that snagged her attention.
    It had begun a leap over the Defiles Course. Half of its length was in the air as Linden’s fire poured between its jaws, ran down its gullet. With Earthpower and fury, she ignited an explosion inside the long body.
    Then she had to hope that most of the monster would fall into the Defiles Course; that the river would prevent other
skurj
from feeding. She did not have time to watch. More and more of the horrific serpents had reached the near side of the valley, or had appeared there. Grueburn and Bluntfist whirled away to face another creature. Onyx Stonemage and Stormpast Galesend left their places with Jeremiah, pounded down the slope to challenge a new foe. Stave picked up Latebirth’s longsword. Wielding a weapon as tall as himself lightly, as if he had trained in its use for decades, he rejoined Rime Coldspray in front of Linden.
    Behind the
skurj
, a torrent of Sandgorgons raced into the valley, speeding with the single-mindedness of spears toward Covenant and Branl.
    Faint amid the tumult, Jeremiah cried, “Mom,
run
!
We have to run!
”
    At every moment, more
skurj
and Sandgorgons arrived, an inundating wave of monsters. Perhaps Linden would have fled—perhaps the Giants would have—if any of them had believed for an instant that they could outrun the monsters. If any of them had been willing to forsake Covenant and Branl.
    From the bottom of her heart, Linden brought up a howl of flame:
    “Thomas!”
    He and Branl had come a third of the way up the valley. There they stopped. Apparently they had decided to stand their ground. Branl moved somewhat apart to accommodate the reach of his sword. Covenant held the
krill
ready. “Hellfire,” he panted at the whimpering Feroce. “Hellfire.”
    Deliberately he shifted his left hand