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

Between them, however, the
krill
lit this section of the crevice clearly.
    Under tremendous pressure long ago, layers of stone on this side had shifted. Diagonally beginning half a dozen paces beyond the Giants and angling erratically into the darkness overhead, ancient forces had pulled the higher reaches of the wall back from the lower. The result was a crude ledge or shelf: a natural formation that lurched upward, lying level in some places, jutting like a titan’s stairs in others; obstructed here and there by piles of rubble. For short distances, it looked wide enough to accommodate horses. Other stretches were too narrow to let more than one Giant pass at a time.
    It ascended beyond the
krill
’s illumination, beyond the range of Linden’s senses, climbing into the secrets of the crevice. She had no way of knowing where it led. But the air drifting down was unmistakably cleaner.
    Surely even stone-dwelling Cavewights required unfouled air?
    In any case, the ledge went higher. It might go far enough to reach the catacombs.
    “You’re right,” she murmured to Jeremiah. “We have to go up.” Then she added quickly, “But that doesn’t mean we don’t need you. It just means that you can stop wearing yourself out for a while. Maybe you can learn other ways to use the Staff.”
    “Like what?” he asked as if she had suggested something unimaginable. He had already failed to affect the hue of the wood. He could not undo its effect on him.
    Instead of giving him a direct answer, Linden said, “You’re here for a reason, honey. It’s no accident.” For his sake, she spun a web of inferences that made her tremble. “Of course, you’re here because Roger took you. He wanted a way to make me give him Thomas’ ring. And Lord Foul wants revenge. He thinks that you can help him trap the Creator. He’s trying to fill your head with despair so that you won’t fight him.
    “But it isn’t that simple. Lord Foul isn’t the only one who chooses who comes to the Land. He picks us because he thinks that he can manipulate us, or because he thinks that we’re already his. But the Creator chooses us, too. They both picked us.” Covenant had taught her this. Now she pushed it further. “The only difference is, the Creator doesn’t manipulate us. He lets us make our own decisions.”
    Ignoring the rest of the company, Linden hurried to make her point before her courage failed.
    “The Creator sees hope in you, honey. He sees things that you might choose for yourself, things that might make a difference. That’s why—” Oh, God. Did she have to say this? Did she have to face it? “That’s why he didn’t warn me before Roger got to you. If he had given me any hint that you might be in danger, I would have stopped Roger somehow. I would have taken you away so that he couldn’t find you.”
    She had almost done so when she had seen images of Revelstone and Mount Thunder in her living room.
    “The Creator didn’t warn me because he needs you.”
    Her claim seemed to strike a spark into the tinder of Jeremiah’s aggrieved spirit. Unsteadily he stood to face her. The murk of his gaze clung to her.
    “Needs me
how
? What am I supposed to do?”
    For that, Linden had no answer.
    “What you’ve always done,” Covenant put in roughly. He had come to stand behind Linden. She felt the tension in his muscles, heard the clench in his voice. “Something damn Foul doesn’t expect.”
    Jeremiah’s head snapped toward Covenant. His mouth hung open.
    “Maybe,” Covenant went on, “you think he marked you. Maybe you think being a halfhand means he has some kind of claim on you, some kind of special power over you. But that’s backward.
He
didn’t cut off those two fingers. Your
mother
did. And she did it so she could save the rest of your hand. Being a halfhand doesn’t make you a victim. It makes you free.
    “The Despiser doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does. He can’t. Filling your head with visions is just a trick to keep you off-balance. He doesn’t want you to see the truth. You’re only his if you choose him.”
    Jeremiah gaped at Covenant. Linden watched turmoil seethe like Lifeswallower’s mire in her son’s eyes. The whole company seemed to pause while he struggled to understand: even the river seemed to hold its breath. The
krill
cast light and shadows in all directions.
    As if he were choking, Jeremiah protested, “But what I see is
real
. The Worm is
real
.”
    He may have