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

sharply that Covenant had to lock his knees to keep his balance. When he was free to look up again, he saw the end of the passage, an opening into a wider space. From his perspective, that space resembled a pit, black and bottomless. But the figures walking into and through it demonstrated that it was not deep.
    As he followed Branl into the cave, he found his companions gathering near its center. The Ironhand and Cirrus Kindwind. Four of Stoutgirth’s sailors. And Masters—
    Their number confused him until he realized that more
Haruchai
had joined the company. They bowed to the Giants, gazed with closed faces at Covenant and Linden. Then they spread out around the space, leaving only scarred Canrik with Rime Coldspray.
    The cave was vaguely circular, with walls that looked natural rather than hewn, and a knuckled ceiling like an array of clenched fists. The floor was a complex jumble of fallen rocks on sunken patches where the underlying granite had contracted or cooled, sending a fretwork of narrow cracks through the surface. Four more tunnels opened like throats at irregular intervals around the walls: gullets choked with darkness where the light did not penetrate. In pairs, the Masters moved to stand guard at each entrance.
    “Thomas?” Linden asked softly. “Where are Pahni and Bhapa?”
    “They’ll come.” Covenant tried to sound sure. The Wightwarrens were vast; but when the mental communion of the
Haruchai
reached enough of their people—
    When or if.
    She frowned. “We need them. The Masters seem to think that I can answer their questions, but I probably can’t.” She fell silent briefly. Then she added like a sigh, “I want to see Pahni and Bhapa again.”
    “Me, too,” he muttered. He had already lost too many friends—and he was going to lose more. He did not know how to avoid it.
    He and Linden greeted Coldspray and Kindwind, acknowledged Wiver Setrock and the other sailors. Covenant scowled at Canrik, thinking, Be careful what you say. Be very careful. But he did not warn the Master aloud. Instead he turned to watch the Anchormaster and the remaining sailors enter the cave.
    Both Furledsail and Blustergale were helping Baf Scatterwit now. She had torn open the stump of her ankle trying to walk as if she had not lost her foot, and every step left smears of blood. Nevertheless she grinned hugely as she rejoined her comrades.
    A few moments later, Grueburn, Bluntfist, and five Masters entered the small cavern. They arrived at a trot, but they slowed when they saw the rest of the company. Carmine streaks stained their limbs, their tunics and cataphracts; but little of the blood was theirs. They did not move like people with injuries. The two Swordmainnir approached their Ironhand. Dast, Ard, and Ulman joined the
Haruchai
keeping watch at the entrances. Vortin and Samil took places with Canrik.
    Rime Coldspray’s jaws worked as if she were chewing curses. “Here the Masters require answers,” she grated, “though every delay serves our foes.”
    “We do,” said Canrik, impervious to her indignation. “We comprehend exigency. Nonetheless we will await the coming of the Voice of the Masters, and of the Ramen Cords. Our thoughts have reached out to other Masters, and thence to more distant kinsmen. Handir and those with him now hasten toward us. They will stand in the presence of the ur-Lord before the end. They will demand sooth from Linden Avery, who has brought the Worm upon us, and has given rise to falsehoods.”
    Covenant beat his fists together, punching the hard circle of his wedding band to control his ire. Linden was right. He repeated that to himself again and again. She was right. He could do nothing against Lord Foul if the Masters refused him. Five Swordmainnir, eight Giants from Dire’s Vessel, Stave, and Branl were not enough to oppose thousands of Cavewights, never mind Roger and
moksha
Jehannum and any other force that the Despiser summoned.
    Distinctly Jeremiah said, “You don’t know Mom.” His eyes looked blank, as if he were thinking about something else. From his hands, black power ran like oil through the Staff’s runes. “Why would she lie? She isn’t afraid of you.”
    Just for an instant, Linden’s features crumpled. Then she covered her face with her hands. When she lowered them again, her expression had hardened, and the gaze that she fixed on Canrik was bleak.
    As if he were choking, Covenant asked the Master, “How long do you expect us to just