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

rigid companionship of the Humbled. The dying Guardian of the One Tree had given him a profound gift—
    But it was not an unalloyed blessing. True, Brinn had mended the worst of his injuries. But the Guardian had also given him a task which he feared to contemplate.
    Remembering
turiya
Raver, Covenant flinched. He needed to open his eyes. Hell, he needed to sit up. He had to know where he was. And where the Humbled were taking him. And how they had resolved their contention with their
ak-Haru
—if they had resolved it at all. And what the service or boon that Brinn had mentioned might be.
    The possibility that
turiya
Herem might take possession of the lurker of the Sarangrave frightened Covenant as much as the idea that he might never see Linden again.
    With an effort, he lifted his head; lowered it again. Blinking, he tried to clear his sight. Then he made an attempt to free his arms.
    “A moment, ur-Lord,” Clyme said over the steady rumble of hooves. “We will unbind you.”
    Now Covenant realized that the hoof-beats of the horses were muffled. The ground where they ran was too yielding to be stone; too soft for bare dirt.
    Peering sideways through the gloom, he saw a shape veer toward him: a horse and rider. When Hooryl came near enough to brush his leg, Clyme bent down to undo the reins.
    Briefly Covenant fought the blur that marred his vision. It seemed worse than it should have been. He could still see stars overhead, but his companion’s features were a twilit smear. He had to squint in order to discern that the horses were cantering on thick turf.
    Hell and blood. He should have been able to see better than this. Brinn had healed him, and leprosy did not progress so swiftly.
    Unless—
    Stung by an intuitive apprehension, he pulled his awkward arms under him; pushed himself off his mount’s neck. Then he clutched at the saddle horn to keep his balance.
    He could not feel the horn at all, except with the nerves of his elbows and shoulders. His hands were numb.
    “What—?” he panted. He seemed to need all of his strength to keep his seat. Insensate in their boots, his feet floundered for the stirrups and did not find them. “What’s going on?” His voice was as vague as his vision. He had slept too long. “What’s happening to me? My eyes are going.”
    Around him, the aegis of the gloaming was complete. It ruled everything. It was leaking into his head; into his mind. Only the stars as they died were vivid to him.
    Clyme draped the untied reins over Covenant’s forearms. Hooryl moved away from Mishio Massima, perhaps so that Covenant could move his leg freely while he groped for the stirrup.
    “Kevin’s Dirt has overtaken us.” Clyme sounded angry. No, it was more than that. He sounded like a man who had given up pretending that he was not angry. “It came upon us at midday. Clearly Kastenessen now directs his malice over the Lower Land, doubtless seeking to harm you, and also to hinder the Staff of Law. In this, he succeeds. To our sight, it is plain that Kevin’s Dirt deepens your illness.”
    Covenant had guessed as much. But he had not expected the effects of Kastenessen’s brume to be so swift. Came upon us at midday? How much time had he lost?
    He turned his head to confirm that Branl also rode beside him. The motion and his mount’s strides made his head pound and his ribs throb. But those pains were more bearable than his earlier hurts; somehow more human. He could imagine that they would fade.
    Branl’s visage wore a frown like a knot between his brows. It looked permanent, as if it had always been there; as if it had merely been masked by a learned and unnatural impassivity.
    Slowly the vagueness faded from Covenant’s thoughts. After a moment, he was able to ask Branl, “Where are we?”
    “Ur-Lord,” the Humbled answered, “the Ranyhyn are cunning. They eluded the snares of the
skest
and escaped the maze of the Shattered Hills well before the onset of Kevin’s Dirt. Now we return along the path of our approach to Kurash Qwellinir. The cliff above the Sunbirth Sea lies there.” He gestured eastward. “If your mount is able to sustain its pace, we will soon gain the region where we last found
aliantha
.”
    Covenant sighed his relief. This was not the most direct route to the Sarangrave, but it was the shortest path to food. If Branl and Clyme had over-ruled their
ak-Haru
’s counsel—if they had decided to seek Linden and the Giants instead of