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

completely. Bluntfist and Grueburn readied their blades.
    Herding Scatterwit and Blustergale ahead of them, Coldspray and Stoutgirth strode closer. “Setrock!” the Anchormaster commanded. “Keenreef. Furledsail. Lead us! Clear bones from our path. If we are assailed, we must have sure footing.”
    The three sailors surged forward. Scatterwit started after them, hopping. Two of her comrades caught her arms, dragged her aside. Blustergale and another Giant followed Setrock, Keenreef, and Furledsail to help sweep debris from the ledge.
    Many of the bones crumbled when they were kicked aside. They released a fume of age.
    Instinctively Linden siphoned Earthpower from the Staff, sent her health-sense farther. The holes in the far wall looked deep. They felt empty: tunnels leading nowhere. The rats had a musty fetor, the smell of carrion and ancient dust. And the Raver—  
    Implications of
moksha
Jehannum burned her nerves, but she could not locate their source, any source.
    Hurl held the
krill
above his head to extend its light. Wiver Setrock and his companions brushed through the bones. The sailors behind them pushed more into the crevice. Rats scurried away, chittering angrily.
Moksha
remained hidden.
    Abruptly Coldspray announced, “There is no gain in waiting.”
    “Aye,” assented the Anchormaster. “If we are to be assailed, our foes must approach along our path. They cannot surprise us.”
    At a word from the Ironhand, Stonemage and Bluntfist started after Blustergale. With Bluff Stoutgirth, Hurl, and the rest of the sailors, Coldspray followed. Kindwind and Grueburn drew Covenant, Linden, and Jeremiah away from the wall. With Branl and Stave, they trailed behind the rest of the company.
    Without a cordon of defenders around her, Linden felt exposed. The holes in the stone across from her seemed to watch like eyes, black and malicious. But Jeremiah was visibly relieved: now he could see. He loosened his arms, swung the Staff from side to side as if he were testing its reach. Determination clenched his features. And Covenant strode after Setrock, Keenreef, and Furledsail as if he feared for them more than for himself.
    Branl kept pace with Covenant. Stave stayed with Linden.
    Frostheart Grueburn rested a hand on Linden’s shoulder, kept Linden between her and the wall. Calmly she assured Linden, “Stoutgirth Anchormaster speaks sooth. Our foes cannot surprise us here. They will seek some advantage of position or concealment.”
    Linden was not comforted. She could feel
moksha
Raver crouching somewhere near. Hurl’s grasp on the
krill
was not as steady as Branl’s. As he moved, shadows reeled across the walls, along the ledge. Threats seemed to lurk in all directions.
    Urged by Coldspray, the company advanced more quickly. At the same time, Stoutgirth called to his sailors in the lead, ordered them to wait for Bluntfist and Onyx Stonemage.
    Spread out along the ledge, the companions rounded the curve. Linden searched past the Giants for a glimpse ahead. Mutely she prayed for haste. The holes scattered across the far wall disturbed her. For no reason that she could name, she wanted to get out from under their black glower.
    A moment later, Setrock shouted in frustration. When a gap opened between the Giants, Linden saw that the ledge ran straight for a short distance beyond the curve. Then it was blocked by a pile of large boulders. The last of the rats vanished among them.
    Blustergale and his companions were still kicking away bones. Other Giants studied the boulders, testing their bulk, looking for a way past them.
    As the Ironhand and the Anchormaster strode closer, Furledsail turned toward them. “The balance of this obstruction appears precarious,” she reported. “We may be able to shift the stones.” She hesitated, glanced at her comrades, then added, “Yet the formation is not natural. Moreover, it is recent. I deem that it was placed to thwart us.”
    “Oh, hell,” Covenant muttered. “Hell and blood.”
    He sounded tense enough, anxious enough, to tear the barricade aside with wild magic. He knew what
moksha
had done to Linden.
    His power might shatter the ledge.
    Biting her lip, Linden pushed her senses among the boulders. She wanted to discern what lay beyond them. But before she could extend her percipience far enough, a sharp cracking sound distracted her. From high above her came a granite impact, one rock massive as a menhir colliding with another—or bouncing off the