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

more.
    “I have to see this havoc for myself. Then we’ll talk.”
    The idea that he would be moving farther from Linden made him ache; but he ignored that pang as well as he could.
    The creatures fluttered their fires in alarm, but they did not protest. For a moment longer, they crowded together, mewling wordlessly while their theurgy pulsed in the twilight. Then they answered, “You are the Pure One. The Feroce will await you. Our High God commands us. The alliance is sealed.”
    At once, they broke away from each other and hastened toward the wetland. As soon as their feet entered the waters of the Sarangrave, their flames went out. Covenant lost sight of them as if the marsh had swallowed them whole.
    His mouth was suddenly dry, and his heart pumped dread. The enormity of what he meant to do seemed to thicken the murk. It made the air difficult to breathe. He had no real comprehension of the Worm’s puissance. For all he knew, its power was too destructive to be gazed upon. The sight alone might scald his eyes in their sockets.
    Fiercely he told himself, Or it might not. He would learn nothing if he did not take the risk.
    Stop dithering. Just do it.
    There was no other way to earn the necessary knowledge.
    “We need the horses,” he muttered to Branl. He would probably never see Hooryl again. He had to hope that Rallyn would be able to command Mishio Massima without help. “And food. Water. From here on, everything is only going to get harder. I don’t doubt that you can hang on indefinitely, but I have to keep up my strength.”
    The Humbled nodded. He did not speak of trust in the Ranyhyn, or in himself.
    That was well. Memories of
turiya
and butchery clung to Covenant. When the
Haruchai
invoked
trust
, the word meant too much. Long centuries ago, Covenant had asked the ancestors of the Humbled to preserve Revelstone. Clyme’s death was only one of the results.

    ut trust was still trust. It was earned, or it was not. As faithful as the
Haruchai
, who remembered everything, Rallyn cantered out of the dusk in Naybahn’s place, answering Branl’s summons. And the palomino stallion brought the Ardent’s mulish beast with him. When the Humbled had checked Mishio Massima’s tack, he announced that the horses were ready.
    With leaves to protect his hands, Covenant uncovered the
krill
. Then he removed Joan’s ring from around his neck. As he had done before, he pushed the ring onto the stub-end of the last finger of his left hand; closed his fist around the chain to secure the band. As before, he struck the dagger’s gem with the ring until his body blazed with wild magic. After that, he concentrated on pressing the point of the blade into the grass while Branl carried him around Rallyn and Mishio Massima.
    When Branl lifted him into his saddle, he nearly fell off the far side. A second Humbled should have been there to catch him. But he managed to steady himself on the saddle horn.
    While his line of silver lingered in the turf, the horses surged into motion, bearing him farther from his heart’s desire.

    fter a blink of darkness which seemed to deny any possible passage, either through time or across distance, Covenant and Branl arrived galloping in a region that looked indistinguishable from the place which they had left. The hillside may have leaned at a slightly different angle. The slope ahead may have been less even. Conceivably Sarangrave Flat had receded to the west. But Covenant could not be sure. Beyond the
krill
’s reach, the unnatural dusk masked details, and his vision was fading.
    Branl took Loric’s dagger and covered it, giving Covenant’s eyes a chance to adjust to the universal grey. The horses ran on as if they were determined to reach the edge of the world.
    Before Covenant could swallow enough of his vertigo to frame a question, the Humbled pointed ahead. After a few moments, Covenant made out a deeper gloom like a clump of shadows in the rumpled ground: a small copse in a hollow. Soon he caught the faint glint of water. A stream purled over the contours of the hillside, hastening in the direction of the Sarangrave.
    As the horses slowed, Branl stated with quiet satisfaction, “The Land is provident—as is Rallyn. Here we will find both water and sustenance. Corruption’s wars did not extend into this region. Nor do the blights of Sarangrave Flat.”
    Covenant did not doubt his companion, but he had other concerns. While he scrambled for balance, he asked, “How far