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

slumber. Doing so, we have assisted in the restoration of the One Tree to its full leaf and bloom. Yet these were lesser tasks gladly undertaken. The greatest deeds were yours, Timewarden, and yours, Wildwielder, and also yours, Chosen-son. Your achievements transcend us.
    “You have made the world new.”
    Jeremiah nodded, grinning.
    “But all those people,” Linden said sadly. “Millions of them. Tens of millions. All that devastation. I did that. I have to live with so much death—” She did not continue.
    Covenant tightened his grip on her hand.
    Infelice shook her head. “Yet had you not roused the Worm,” she replied, “he whom you name the Despiser would have wrought graver harm by some other means. Damning the Earth, you enabled its redemption. Therefore do not fault yourself, Wildwielder. Though it shames me to confess it, your folly has surpassed the wisdom of the
Elohim
. We erred in our opposition, erred cruelly. Now we accept the outcome without regret.”
    “‘Beings from beyond Time,’” murmured Linden.
    “Indeed,” the
Elohim
said again. “For that reason, if for no other, there can be no fault in you. You were chosen for your task. You did not seek it out. Nevertheless you have found it within yourself to prevail.”
    Then she faced Covenant. “For your sake, Timewarden, I am grieved. You have elected to bear the lasting burden of this restoration. You have given the living Earth a gift which exacts anguish. The Despiser is not defeated. He strives within you. While you live, he must be defeated continuously. I have come to proffer my obeisant gratitude—and also to inquire how you contrive to endure your triumph. Your willingness defies my comprehension. I could more readily grasp the surrender of your spirit to the Arch of Time. Your acceptance now surpasses me.”
    Covenant grimaced. He almost smiled. “It’s easier than it looks. Or it’s harder. Or maybe it’s just worth the effort.” He ran his halfhand through his hair. “I don’t know how else to explain it. Lord Foul makes us strong.”
    “Strong?” Jeremiah objected. “The Despiser? He would have slaughtered the whole world and laughed about it.”
    “Well, sure.” Covenant shrugged. “But ask yourself why he’s like that. Berek said it. ‘Only the great of heart may despair greatly.’ All that malice and contempt is just love and hope and eagerness gone rancid. He’s the Creator’s curdled shadow. He—” He grimaced again. “I’m not saying this right.
    “He gives us the chance to do better.”
    Jeremiah and Infelice studied him, frowning.
    “In any case,” Covenant added, “taking a stand against him is what makes us who we are.” He looked more sharply at the
Elohim
. “When we don’t, we aren’t anything. We’re just empty.”
    Uncharacteristically gracious, Infelice bowed. “A just charge, Timewarden. I perceive now that it is condign. I am content to acknowledge it.
    “Contemplating the paradox of your folly and wisdom, I bid you joy.”
    Riding a delicate loft of bells, she took herself away.
    Linden watched her husband’s face and smiled like a new day.
    As if he were answering her, Covenant said, “I can feel my fingers. They seem to have nerves again, what’s left of them. And the soles of my feet—They used to be numb. Now I know I’m standing on grass. I can almost feel individual blades.
    “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but I had no idea you’re
so
beautiful.”
    She kissed him for a time while Jeremiah rolled his eyes. Then the companions walked again.
    The Hills displayed themselves like treasures. Leagues may have passed, unmeasured by Andelain’s kind ease. In the east, Mount Thunder’s dark bulk showed against the paling sky. Intimations of morning lifted birds into the air. Chirps and twitters began like introits, the preliminaries of worship. Every in-drawn breath was a sacrament. Every exhalation released care.
    And from out of the fading night came Wraiths to do homage.
    Fleet as candle-flames, and glad as an aubade, throngs of living fires danced among the trees, two or three at first, then scores, then innumerable hundreds. Sharing warmth and brightness like wealth, they gathered in the air. Harmoniously they measured the sequences of a stately gavotte around Covenant, Linden, and Jeremiah. One at a time, they wafted closer to kiss blessings onto Linden’s forehead, and onto Jeremiah’s. But in front of Covenant they appeared to falter as