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

stripped away his denials, his defenses.
    It had exposed the truth—
    The Ironhand sighed again. “Ah, then.” She may have shrugged. “Lacking other illumination, I will emulate the certainty of the
Haruchai
. I will trust that Linden Giantfriend and Covenant Timewarden will exceed every expectation, as they have done from the first. And also—” She groaned softly. “Also I will heed your counsel, Chosen-son. Until we are summoned to Kiril Threndor, I will rest.”
    Jeremiah heard the creak of her joints as she forced herself to move. He felt the mute crying of her muscles, the catch and strain of her respiration, the lurch of her pulse. With Grueburn, she went to the wall opposite him. The weight of their armor and swords seemed to make their shoulders moan as they lowered themselves to lean or sit, apparently on the boulders.
    “The ur-Lord has begun,” Canrik announced. “He confronts two great evils. Branl now discerns that Corruption has taken possession of the ur-Lord’s son. They stand as one.” A moment later, he added, “In such a conflict, Branl is of little use.” His tone had a grim tinge. “His flesh cannot withstand the fire and fury of the
skurj
. Therefore he cannot ward the ur-Lord.”
    Taken possession, Jeremiah thought. Oh, joy. In spite of his own despair, he felt a reflexive pang for Covenant’s son. When Roger lost his partnership with the
croyel
, he must have decided that Lord Foul was his only path to godhood; his only way to survive the shattering of the Arch. But he should never have trusted the Despiser. He must have been so desperate—
    Then Jeremiah forgot about Roger. The ur-Lord has begun. Time was running out—and Jeremiah was still as helpless as a kid.
    More than anything else at that moment, he wished that he had refused the Staff of Law. How could he have believed that
he
would be able to make a difference?
    The Worm appeared to drink slowly: it looked ecstatic. Nevertheless shockwaves multiplied among the Land’s bones, ran through the gaps between instants. Far to the southwest, time was beginning to twist and flow. Mountains which had once leaned against
Melenkurion
Skyweir slumped as if they were melting. Confusion distorted the foothills. Trees which had died thousands of years ago in Garroting Deep flashed into existence and blurred away.
    Melenkurion
. The Seven Words. Abruptly Jeremiah decided to try them. He could not imagine what they might do, but he had to try
some
thing. Anything would be better than simply waiting to die.
    Melenkurion abatha. Duroc—
    He blinked; scowled into the darkness. There was light in the cave. How had he not noticed it before? It was faint, yes. But still—
    It had to be new. It must have appeared while he was distracted by the Worm.
    Faint but distinct: a disturbing actinic blue, eerie as necromancy. Except where it was blocked by the Giants, it limned the boulders as if they had begun to bleed magic. And yet it conveyed nothing to Jeremiah’s nerves. His health-sense insisted that the light did not exist.
    In the strange glow, he saw the
Haruchai
. Vague as ghosts or will-o’-the-wisps, they faced Kiril Threndor with their backs to him and the Giants and the stones. He could feel their tension, their desire to aid Covenant.
    He blinked again and again. What was causing that acrid blue? And why was it only visible to ordinary sight?
    He tried to say Coldspray’s name, or Grueburn’s. He struggled to speak the Seven Words aloud. But his mouth and throat were suddenly too dry.
    He and his companions were not alone in the cave.
    With a ponderous ease that made him flinch, the boulders began to expand.
    They unfolded like crouching behemoths: monsters of living rock that had concealed themselves by curling down until they resembled balls. Now they stood, pitching the Swordmainnir headlong. Jeremiah saw lumpen heads without necks, actinic eyes, massive arms and legs outlined like sketches in phosphorescent blue.
    Soundless as figments, voiceless as hallucinations, the creatures moved.
    Coldspray and Grueburn crashed to the floor. At the sound, Canrik and Samil wheeled. As if they did not need time to gauge their peril, they sprang at the monsters.
    Burning eyes flared. Jeremiah watched in horror as one of the creatures moved to meet the Masters. A swinging arm hit Samil like a bludgeon, threw him against the wall. Jeremiah heard the horrid smack of smashed bone when Samil’s skull split. The
Haruchai
collapsed in a