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

Linden listened to the effort of Grueburn’s breathing, felt the strain in Grueburn’s muscles, and could do nothing.
    She had given up looking ahead when she heard the Anchormaster call, “And not before time! Doubtless all things must have an end. After such an ascent, however, I would lief have gained a less ambiguous summit.”
    Linden jerked up her head; saw that the fires of the Feroce no longer reflected on the walls. The
krill
’s illumination seemed to imply an open space ahead. She tried to extend her discernment upward, but she could not. Her senses were blocked by Giants and fouled water, Earthpower and exertion. Even Loric’s gem had the effect of obstructing her percipience.
    None of the Giants spoke as they hurried to reach a place where they might be able to rest again.
    Like the Feroce, Coldspray and Stoutgirth had moved out of sight. Holding light for the sailors and the Swordmainnir, Branl stood at the edge of the channel-mouth. Now Linden was able to see that the river ran from another large cavity in the gutrock; but the scale of the space was still hidden from her.
    As Grueburn labored upward, however, Linden heard more complex tones in the water’s turbulence, new pitches and timbres. Another waterfall? No. The sounds lacked that deeper resonance. After a moment, she realized that she was listening to more than one torrent. From beyond the immediate rush and spray came the turmoil of other streams, two distinct sources of water, neither splashing from any considerable height.
    Half a dozen sailors reached the Humbled. They passed him leftward, clambered out of sight. As Stonemage and Setrock gained the opening, they led Keenreef and more of Dire’s Vessel’s crew to the right. Together Grueburn and Kindwind carried Linden and Jeremiah to smooth stone at the rim of the tunnel.
    Linden peered out at a large cave like a bubble in Mount Thunder’s igneous substance. By the measure of the lower cavern, its dimensions were modest. She could have hit the ceiling with a rock, or skipped a pebble halfway across the dark water in front of her: a diminished lake now little more than a pond marked by rancid strands and stains higher on the walls. At the water’s former height, the rocks piled around the cave’s bottom would have been covered, useless to the company. At the pond’s present level, she could have scrambled anywhere in the cave.
    Nevertheless the air was viscid, thick with omens. The hurtful tang of She Who Must Not Be Named was stronger here. Suggestions of ire and ruin felt like insects on Linden’s skin, tangible and feeding. Without Jeremiah and Earthpower, she might have whimpered aloud.
    But then Grueburn carried her aside, out of the way of the Giants behind them; and Linden noticed the water’s inlets.
    There were indeed two, one diagonally across from her on the left, the other opposite her and somewhat to the right. The stream on the left tumbled from a fissure in the wall, a crack barely wide enough to admit a Giant. The water frothing there conveyed the impression that it cascaded from somewhere far above the cave. In the
krill
’s light, its spray shone silver.
    The other stream boiled out of an opening beneath the lake’s surface. Apparently it came from the base of a subtle flaw in the stone, a seam where distinct forms of rock had been reluctantly fused. Under the pressure of its own weight, water seethed into the pond.
    Only the fissure on the left offered the company an egress. An ascent there would be difficult. If the crack narrowed, it might become impassable. But the water there was fresh.
    God, it was
fresh
—It came from a clean spring, or from several. And the fissure was accessible. The company could reach it without enduring an immersion in the pond; without subjecting Linden to more of the bane’s touch.
    The Cavewights were entirely unlike the Feroce. Surely they required sources of clean water? Surely a source this abundant would lead toward the Wightwarrens?
    Her heart seemed to beat in her throat as she turned toward Covenant.
    Rime Coldspray had set him down on the far side of the cave’s outlet. Stave and all of the Giants had now emerged from the tunnel, and Cirrus Kindwind had already lowered Jeremiah to the rocks. He leaned on the Staff, resting, but he did not relax his efforts. Stark strands of power fluttered around the company, softening the atmosphere.
    He was the only one not looking at Covenant. Stave, Branl, and the Giants watched