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

Upon occasion, however, both ears and mouth may know joy, for its causes are plain to all. When we foundered in strife and loss, your coming lifted our hearts. We are Giants and must grieve. Yet we are filled with gladness also. You are a brightness amid the world’s dusk.”
    The other Swordmainnir offered their thanks and pleasure as well. But they fell silent when Covenant began to speak. Holding Linden tightly, he addressed the sailors with a familiar ache in his voice.
    “Brinn talked about a service or boon. Even after he saved my life, he wasn’t done. But he didn’t tell me what he had in mind. Now I know. You’re his last service. His boon. We weren’t enough. We needed help. No matter what happens, we’re going to need more.”
    Linden nodded. Manethrall Mahrtiir had spoken truly.
And betimes some wonder is wrought to redeem us
. The Giants of Dire’s Vessel had given Covenant time to summon the Fire-Lions.
    But the Swordmainnir did not linger over their gratitude. Their weariness ran deep; and there was much that Stoutgirth and his crew needed to know.
    “As you have surmised,” the Ironhand began, sighing, “our tale is both lengthy and unforeseen. It has cost us lives and blood and sorrow. The worth of our deeds is not ours to proclaim. Yet I will trust that worth resembles joy. It will be found in the ears that hear if the mouth that speaks cannot name it.”
    Then Rime Coldspray gave the Giants of Dire’s Vessel her story.
    At first, Linden listened uncomfortably. The Ironhand described events and purposes in more forgiving terms than Linden could have managed, especially where Linden herself was concerned. She had to stifle an impulse to add her own stringent counterpoint to the arching cadences of Coldspray’s narration. But gradually the Ironhand’s tone filled her thoughts, lulling her until she drifted on the currents of Coldspray’s voice.
    Beyond the reach of the
krill
’s gem, darkness waited as though the whole truth of the world had become night. Overhead the watching stars seemed too disconsolate to value their hard-earned reprieve. Behind the episodes of Rime Coldspray’s tale, the Sarangrave’s lapping waters muttered reminders of venom and putrescence. Jeremiah’s study of the Staff sent small flames skirling upward, but shed no light.
    Yet within the ambit of the
krill
’s argent, Bluff Stoutgirth and his comrades were transfixed. Where the Anchormaster and Hurl appeared to suppress jests at every turn of the tale, Keenreef and Squallish Blustergale looked dismayed to the heart. Etch Furledsail, Wiver Setrock, and one of the women—had Stoutgirth called her Baf Scatterwit?—stared at the Ironhand as if nothing made sense. Together Dire’s Vessel’s crew evinced every reaction except joy.
    Nevertheless no one interrupted Rime Coldspray. Even Covenant did not, although he could no doubt have added his own interpretations. Instead he seemed distracted, as if he were thinking about something else.
    Then Coldspray was done. A long silence greeted her, until Stoutgirth announced brightly, “A toothsome tale, Ironhand—a veritable feast of clear peril and ambiguous vindication, strange beings and extravagant exertions. Doubtless we will gnaw upon it, seeking its marrow, while the world endures.
    “Yet you have spoken of worth. For my part, Ironhand, I do not acknowledge it.” He laughed happily. “As matters stand, we resemble sailors snared in the ensorcelments of the Soulbiter. There can be no worth in the tale of those who fail and fall unwitnessed, for their doom is not redeemed by the telling of it. We must have boasting, Rime Coldspray! I will not name the deeds of this company worthy until the World’s End has been forestalled. Only then may the tale be shared with those able to esteem it.”
    Linden frowned, thinking that the Anchormaster had insulted her friends. But the Giants heard something different in Stoutgirth’s assertion; or they heard it with different ears. Several of his sailors laughed, and both Grueburn and Kindwind chuckled.
    “Then,” Rime Coldspray replied, bemused and rueful, “we must endeavor to win free of this Soulbiter, that we may thereafter brag of our survival.”
    The Anchormaster nodded. “And toward that end, Ironhand, there is a matter which you have not addressed. How do you propose to sail these fatal seas? You have overcome the unwelcome of the
Haruchai
. And your companions are figures of legend, revered among us.