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

say! Is this not an affront to fire the coldest heart? Am I not a Giant, as mortal as any, and as worthy of my hurts? Does the lurker’s god think so little of me, or of Baf Scatterwit, or of all here, that it does not deign to cause
pain
?”
    While Scatterwit chuckled, Bluff Stoutgirth commanded, “Enough, Blustergale. Some among us deem toes needful. Demonstrate that you are able to ascend here, and I will suffer your umbrage. Should you slip or falter, however, I will regard you justly chastened.”
    “The lake rises still,” Hurl repeated more urgently. “Badinage and bravado will not slow it.”
    “Aye,” the Anchormaster replied, “and aye again.” He had recovered his good humor. “As you have seen fit to chide us, you will remain to mark the water’s advance.” Then he urged his sailors into motion.
    Led by Onyx Stonemage, the others thrashed ahead.
    Branl approached Coldspray, Grueburn, and Kindwind; Covenant, Linden, and Jeremiah. He held Loric’s dagger so that its radiance did not shine into his eyes. Shadows obscured his mien as he announced, “The lake did not heed the
krill
.”
    “The Feroce were right,” Covenant grumbled. “The lurker’s god is crazy. That knife can cut anything.” He peered into the darkness of the chute. “Now I’m worried. We don’t know what’s up there. We’re going to need those creatures.”
    “They’ve come this far,” Linden sighed. In spite of their fears—“If they don’t rejoin us, it’s because they can’t.”
    “I know.” Tension throbbed in Covenant’s voice. His arms were getting tired. He would not be able to cling to the Ironhand’s back indefinitely. But Coldspray would need her hands to help her defy the weight of the river. Grueburn and Kindwind would need their hands. “I just want to bitch for a while.”
    “Timewarden,” Rime Coldspray replied like a reprimand, “your tales are foreshortened beyond sufferance. They are ended ere I am able to hear joy in them. And you employ words strangely. ‘Bitch,’ forsooth. I will deem it a courtesy if you will refrain until we are better able to heed you.”
    Covenant gave Linden a twisted smile, rolled his eyes. “Have it your way. I’ll do my complaining when we find the damn Despiser.”
    “And another,” sighed the Ironhand. “Is there no limit to your brevity?”
    Linden wished that Covenant could laugh. She wanted to laugh herself. But she did not have it in her. The spray promised carrion. It implied horror. Even in the constriction of the flume, the sensations were oblique. Nevertheless they were getting stronger.

    ow the company did not tarry. A shout from Hurl announced that the lake was nearing the rim of the waterfall. Heaving against the pressure of the river, the Swordmainnir and the sailors fought their way upward. One of the Anchormaster’s crew had tied a rope around Baf Scatterwit’s waist. Giants ahead of her held the line. And Squallish Blustergale stayed with her, taking some of her weight. Together they struggled along behind their comrades.
    Linden’s arms ached. Cramps threatened her thighs. Nevertheless riding Grueburn’s back was easier than it might have been. All of the Giants moved hunching over, ready to catch themselves if they slipped on slick rocks or secreted moss. Grueburn’s posture helped Linden to hang on.
    The passage should have been impossible for the
Haruchai
. Water that reached the Giants’ knees struck Stave and Branl above their waists. Nevertheless the two men forged ahead as if they were incapable of faltering. The
krill
in Branl’s grasp did not waver. He and Stave carried their cumbersome swords like men who had spent decades training with such weapons.
    Before long, Hurl called to inform the company that the lake had reached the bottom of the chute.
    Muttering elaborate Giantish curses, the Swordmainnir and the sailors continued an ascent that seemed to have no end.
    Eventually, however, Rime Coldspray came to a widening. There across the centuries the river had eaten deposits of sandstone and shale out of the walls. It had dug a pit in the underlying basalt. The result was a space in which all of the Giants could gather—and a pool deep enough to swallow the
Haruchai
. Fortunately a few boulders clung to the sides. Here and there, stubborn granite ledges protruded from the walls.
    Coldspray looked a question at Bluff Stoutgirth. When he nodded, she ordered a rest.
    Gratefully Frostheart Grueburn sloughed Linden