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

that, Linden covered her face with her hands.
    Relieved and grateful, Covenant went to Bhapa. When the older Cord met his gaze, he said without rancor, “You took a hell of a risk. What were you going to do if it didn’t work?”
    Bhapa’s mouth twisted. He almost smiled. With a hint of his former diffidence, he said, “Timewarden, I would have spoken of you. Your need outweighs my wrath. Had the Ringthane’s name failed, yours might have prevailed—though,” he admitted ruefully, “in that event the burden of shame would have become mine to bear.”
    Covenant nodded. Under his breath, he murmured, “You’re a brave man. I’m glad you’re here. But maybe you should have trusted them with the truth. This”—a twitch of his head indicated the Masters—“isn’t settled.”
    Still Handir and his people said nothing, revealed nothing. They guarded the cave and the company, motionless as graven images while they carried on their mental debate.
    Impatient for a decision, the Giants fretted among themselves. While Grueburn and Stonemage spoke in low voices to Bluff Stoutgirth’s sailors, telling them more about Bhapa and Pahni, Rime Coldspray approached the Cords. She greeted them kindly in spite of her obvious exasperation, praised their courage, thanked them for their fidelity to Linden. Then, however, she reached the end of her endurance. Striding past the Ramen, she confronted Handir and Canrik, Samil and Vortin.
    “Enough of this!” she called so that every Master could hear her. “While you query yourselves, our foes rally against us. Such uncertainty ill becomes you. If you will not stand with us, stand aside. We must attain Kiril Threndor.”
    “Must we then countenance shame?” snapped Canrik. “Is that your counsel, Giant? You who know nothing of the strictures which form and inform the
Haruchai
?”
    The Ironhand started to retort; but Handir gestured abruptly for silence. Ignoring Coldspray, he faced Covenant across the shining of the
krill
.
    “Nonetheless this also is folly.” He spoke with his accustomed rigidity—and yet his tone conveyed a cry of protest. “Doubtless Linden Avery has become a rightful white gold wielder. And your endeavors against Corruption have twice exceeded every expectation. Yet when the Worm feeds, wild magic cannot counter it. Only Law can withstand the Earth’s destruction, but the Staff is held by a boy who has not mastered it. Why do you wish to expend our lives where no good outcome can be achieved?
    “If we must be shamed, we will bear it. We are
Haruchai
. Yet it is cruel—is it not?—to insist upon our service in the name of folly. In the name of futility, ur-Lord. In the name of
waste
.”
    Covenant grinned at him fiercely. “You tell me. Which would you rather do? Die here fighting Cavewights? Take the chance that something good might happen? Or be swept out of existence while you stand around complaining about waste?”
    The Voice of the Masters paused for only a moment. Then he said without inflection, “We will fight.”
    Covenant clenched his fists; stifled an impulse to punch the air. “Then get me to Kiril Threndor. Protect Linden as long as you can. Keep Jeremiah safe. And brace yourselves. We’ve already surprised the hell out of Lord Foul. Maybe we’ll surprise you, too.”
    After that, he could no longer contain himself. Turning away from Handir, he shouted at the ceiling, “Did you hear that, you tormented bastard? The
Haruchai
are going to
fight
!”
    The Ardent’s last service had accomplished its purpose.

9.
    Parting Company

    Covenant wanted to talk to Linden, remind her that he loved her, do what he could to reassure her. In addition, he meant to check on Jeremiah. The boy’s elsewhere gaze was changing: his whole face seemed to be changing. The silted hue of his eyes had acquired a crimson tinge, as if his irises were bleeding. And his visage looked leaner, deprived of its youthfulness by dismay and nascent horror. His hands no longer gripped the Staff tightly, no longer spilled the black flames of his transformed legacy. He may have forgotten that he held it.
    As guerdon for his puerile
valor
—
    He was losing his ability to ward himself from visions of the Worm.
    Covenant wanted to say something, ask questions, understand; give comfort if he could. But he had no time. While the echoes of his defiance lingered in the cave, the cordon of Masters surged into motion.
    Responding to the mental shouts of the