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

order of things did not grieve or grow glad. Only the sentient beings who inhabited time wept and struggled and loved.
    There was a kind of comfort in the notion that the Earth neither understood nor feared its own peril. Its life was not a reflection of himself. But such consolation was too abstract to touch him—or his dying nerves did not feel it. Ultimately nothing ever mattered, except to the people who cared about it. To them, however, the import of the stakes was absolute.
    Covenant grimaced ruefully at his thoughts. Long ago, he had insisted that the Land did not exist, except as a form of self-contained delirium. In that sense, it
was
a reflection of himself. And he was powerless in it because he could not change his own image in the mirror: it only showed him who he was. Therefore he could not be blamed for his actions; or for the Land’s fate. Now he found himself arguing that the world was really nothing more than an impersonal mechanism inhabited by self-referential beings. Therefore no failure, here or anywhere, could be held against him.
    After so many years, he had changed very little. He was still looking for a way to forgive himself for being human and afraid.
    But in fact he did not believe that the Land and its world were simply parts of a mechanism. They formed a living creation. And like all living things, they yearned for continuance. If he failed them, the world’s woe would be as vast as the heavens.
    While it lasted.
    There were hints of travail in the wind; suggestions of iniquity. But he did not know how to interpret them—or he was not ready.
    He was still wrestling with himself when Branl returned, no longer carrying his supply of
ussusimiel
.
    “By good fortune, ur-Lord,” the Humbled announced, “there is a covert which I deem apt for your purpose. The wind is obstructed, yet views to the east and north are accessible. Will you accompany me?”
    Briefly Covenant considered what he could see of his companion. Then he muttered, “Well, hell. Why else are we here?” Extending his arm, he asked for help.
    True to his commitments, the Master lifted Covenant upright. And he kept his hand on Covenant’s arm for support and guidance. His grasp may have been meant as reassurance.
    Covenant glanced downhill to check on the progress of the Feroce. Their noxious fires shone more clearly now; but they were still no more than halfway up the slope. Trusting their uncanny ability to find him wherever he was, he turned away.
    As Branl drew him among the stones, the Humbled asked, “Ur-Lord, have you determined how you will counsel the lurker?”
    Bracing himself on contorted plinths and tall slabs, Covenant picked his way forward. “It’s like I said. I need to know where the Worm is headed. If it comes from the north, or the northeast, and doesn’t turn, it’s probably going straight for
Melenkurion
Skyweir. In that case, the lurker isn’t in danger. It doesn’t need advice. But if the Worm comes from anywhere south of us, it’s ignoring its direct line to the EarthBlood. That means it wants Kastenessen—or She Who Must Not Be Named. Then I’ll have to tell Horrim Carabal
some
thing.”
    “To what purpose?” countered Branl. “That you desire to determine the Worm’s immediate path, I comprehend. But what will any counsel avail? The lurker will not hazard its life at your word.”
    Covenant stumbled to the left around one thrust of basalt, to the right past another. The cry of the wind was louder here. It pummeled him in forlorn gusts. But as he went farther among the stones, he was spared more and more of the wind’s force.
    “I’m still thinking,” he answered through his teeth. “There has to be something we can do.” To accomplish what? Slow the Worm?
Stop
it? He told himself not to be absurd. “I just don’t know what it is.”
    The Humbled may have shrugged. He did not argue.
    His path twisted like a maze. It seemed long. But eventually Covenant came to a small patch of grass just wide enough to sit in. Branl’s net of melons rested there in a notch between stones the size of Giants. Standing in the center of the grass, Covenant found that he had a clear line of sight northward. Through a gap in the jumble, he could see the rim of the bluffs perhaps ten paces away. And beyond the precipice—
    There the Sunbirth Sea assailed Lifeswallower with the mindless fury of a berserker.
    At one time, perhaps only a few hours earlier, the waters of the Great Swamp had