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

deep in life.” He seemed to be quoting. “Two unalterable symbols of the world.” Then he lifted his head to the dark heavens, the decimated stars. From his ring, a brief flash of silver challenged the night. “I can’t help it. I’ve always loved Giants. Any world that has
Haruchai
and Ranyhyn and Ramen and Insequent and even
Elohim
in it is precious. But there really is no substitute for Giants.”
    Jeremiah agreed with him.
    The Ironhand answered Covenant’s moment of power with a flash of her teeth. “Then, Timewarden,” she said, “let us now vindicate your love.”
    With a sweep of her arm, she drew the Swordmainnir and Dire’s Vessel’s crew with her as she started down the side of the valley toward the throat of the Defiles Course.
    Jeremiah followed them as if he, too, had been called. With the Staff and his own power, he drew clean air out of the ambient reeks.
    After a moment, Cirrus Kindwind came to his side. Frostheart Grueburn now accompanied Linden and Stave, and the Anchormaster had claimed a place with Covenant and Branl. Escorted by Giants and
Haruchai
, Covenant, Linden, and Jeremiah picked their way between craters like maws and past rank corpses toward the cave where the Land’s most ancient waters carried their burden of poisons and spilled evil into the embrace of the Sarangrave.
    Apparently the Feroce had anticipated the company’s movement. They already stood on the riverbank within an easy stone’s throw of the cliff, a cluster of ten small creatures with emerald in their hands and naked fright in their eyes. They did not react as the first Giants approached them. Instead they stood in the stench of the Defiles Course, facing each other and quavering as if their deity had declared them expendable.
    But when Covenant drew near, they turned away from their communion. Flinching, they spoke in their one voice: an eerie sound like squeezed mud, moist and attenuated.
    “We are the Feroce,” they said as if they were on the verge of weeping. “We are only the Feroce. At our High God’s command, we attempt aid. It exceeds us. We will not suffice.”
    Covenant regarded them like a man who showed no mercy; but his words belied his manner. “You don’t have to suffice. You just have to try. When you can’t do any more, you’re free to go.”
    “Then,” replied the creatures, “we will begin. We have no wish to prolong our failure.”
    Together they faced the gaping mouth of the cliff. In a tight cluster, they started toward the deeper dark, a blackness that seemed to mock the
krill
and the company, the night and the forlorn stars. Although no tangible power compelled them, they moved as if they were being scourged.
    Covenant watched them, but he did not follow. Instead he rasped to the Giants and the
Haruchai
, “Just remember. White gold is going to be mostly useless, at least for a while. I don’t have much control. I’m more likely to cause a cave-in than accomplish anything useful. Plus I can’t keep my balance worth a damn. And Linden hasn’t had time to learn what she can do. We’ll need all the help you can give us.”
    “This we have foreseen, Timewarden,” the Ironhand answered calmly. “If Giants are fools, they are also rock-wise, certain of foot on any stone. With your consent, we will bear you, and also Linden Giantfriend and Jeremiah Chosen-son. In our arms, you will be warded from many perils.”
    Now Covenant looked back at his companions. “Linden?”
    “I think it’s a good idea.” She made a palpable effort to sound confident; but Jeremiah heard the congested tension in her voice. “Grueburn has carried me more times than I can count. I’m not worried about her. And I don’t like the way that looks.” She gestured at the river mouth. “If nothing else, it’s going to be slick.” Her mouth twisted. “I would rather be carried. If Grueburn doesn’t mind.”
    Grueburn’s response was a snorted chortle.
    Covenant nodded. “Jeremiah?”
    Jeremiah felt a touch of relief. “Mom’s right. I’m not as strong as I want to be. I mean with the Staff. If I don’t have to do my own climbing, I can concentrate better.”
    For himself, Covenant did not hesitate. To Coldspray, he said brusquely, “Thanks. I should have thought of that myself.”
    Then he made a visible effort to relax as Bluff Stoutgirth lifted him from his feet.
    In a moment, Jeremiah was sitting on Kindwind’s forearm with his back against her breastplate. His lightless