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

myself!”
    Branl studied Covenant for a moment; shrugged delicately. Then he handed Loric’s dagger to the Unbeliever. Springing away over the break in the ledge, he went to join the Ironhand.
    Covenant, Linden, and Jeremiah were left behind. Stave, Grueburn, and Kindwind. But soon sailors came to them dragging Blustergale, carrying Furledsail. Harried along by Setrock, Scatterwit retreated from the fray.
    Linden watched Giants and Cavewights fight in darkness relieved only by the
krill
in Covenant’s grasp, and by the crimson glow of eyes. At first, Bluntfist and Stonemage seemed implausibly effective. They were skilled and mighty. They had room enough between them to swing their blades. And they could afford to let creatures lunge past them: Coldspray and Stoutgirth protected their backs. Rabid thrusts and slashes were beaten aside. Bodies toppled from the ledge in welters of blood.
    But the Cavewights were mighty as well, born with the strength to delve in gutrock by hand. They were nearly as tall as Giants. Their arms were longer. And they were many, more than Linden could count. Eventually their sheer numbers would overwhelm the Giants. Already Bluntfist and Stonemage were driven backward. The Ironhand and the Anchormaster were forced to retreat as well.
    Branl strode between the commanders. He passed Bluntfist and Stonemage, drifted like a shadow among the Cavewights. With the rippled edges of his longsword, he seemed to reap creatures all around him. Howls became shrieks. Bodies fell. In the press of Cavewights, his shorter stature was an advantage. Creatures fighting at the height of Giants could not block his flurry of cuts, his swift dance. For a moment, he stopped the advance. Linden almost believed that he would be able to turn the battle.
    Still the Cavewights were too many. And they were not mindless. Quickly they adjusted their tactics. Those in the lead sprang aside, cleared a space which allowed other creatures to level their weapons and their strength at the Humbled.
    Branl dodged a spear, cut off the arms of its wielder. As if in a single motion, he blocked a cudgel on one side, countered a sword on the other. He slashed at thighs, knees, ankles.
    But more Cavewights came. In spite of his prowess, he was beaten backward.
    Soon Covenant would have no choice. Jeremiah would have none.
    At the edge of her vision, Linden thought that she saw another boulder plummet into the depths. She saw or imagined a Cavewight sprawling through the air after it.
    She shook her head to dispel the image. She could not help Branl and the struggling Swordmainnir. She had promised herself—
    But she could meet other needs. Snatching Earthpower from the Staff, from Jeremiah, she aimed fire at Blustergale’s shoulder and Furledsail’s side.
    She worked fiercely. She had no time for kindness. The battle was coming closer. Like an act of violence, she stopped Blustergale’s bleeding, mended the bones, closed the wound; poured energy into his veins: healing as brutal as abuse. When she was sure that he would live, she treated Furledsail in the same fashion.
    All of the Giants had cared for her. Some had given their lives. This was how she rewarded the living.
    Then Stave called her name. She jerked up her head, flung her gaze at the fighting.
    He still stood near her. Nevertheless another
Haruchai
had joined Branl. The newcomer had acquired a falchion from a fallen creature. Together he and Branl struggled to slow the Cavewights so that the Swordmainnir would not be overrun.
    Another—?
    Linden did not recognize him.
    A heartbeat later, a second unfamiliar
Haruchai
landed lightly on the ledge. He must have been working his way down the wall. Even one of his people could not plummet onto stone with such ease from any great height.
    He had the grizzled hair of a veteran: his face was a lattice of old scars. He paused to glance around at Stave and the sailors. Grueburn and Kindwind. Linden and Jeremiah. Then he stared at Covenant.
    For the first time, Linden saw open astonishment on the impassive face of a
Haruchai
.

8.
    Shamed Choices

    Wild magic swelled in Covenant. It yearned for release. His wedding band ached on his ring finger. The ambush had already killed three of the Giants. Hurl’s body lay against the wall, transformed by a stone spear into fresh feasting for rats. Two of the men from Dire’s Vessel had plunged into the crevice; into the distant embrace of the Defiles Course. Still an uncountable number of