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

her chance to take pity on Elena. From She Who Must Not Be Named, Linden had learned how much her self-absorption had cost Covenant’s daughter.
    “No,” she replied carefully, “it won’t be wasted. I can only imagine how bad it might feel to see something that you built destroyed. Especially something like
that
. But
listen
to me. In a way, I’ve only known you for a day and a half, and already I’m so proud of you that I don’t have any words big enough for it. Now I understand what parents mean when they talk about their hearts bursting.”
    She gathered passion as she spoke. Her own parents had never felt that way about her. Not once. The bitter legacies of her childhood filled her voice. Trying to sway her son, she was pleading for herself.
    “For all of those years when I was taking care of you, do you know how many times I wondered if it was all wasted?” If she had opened her heart and lavished her love for nothing? “I’ll tell you. I
never
wondered. It was always worth doing, all of it.
    “Of
course
I cared about what might happen. Of
course
I wanted you to find your way out. I wanted you with me. But I didn’t adopt you and love you because of what
might
happen. I did it because you were
always
precious to me, every minute of every day. You were enough. I didn’t need to know the future to know that you were worth everything.”
    She felt frustration from him, a rising denial; but she over-rode it.
    “So maybe you won’t be able to build your door after all. Maybe we won’t be able to protect it after you make it. Maybe the
Elohim
and the stars and all of us are doomed. So what? Right here, right now, you want to do everything you can to help, and that’s wonderful. If the Worm eats your door, and you feel so hurt and angry and useless that you can’t stand it, remember that I’m
proud
of you.”
    “Stop it, Mom.” He was crying, and trying not to show it. “
Nobody’s
proud of a failure.”
    “That’s nonsense.” Instinctively she responded as if he were a normal boy, able to hear her. “Failure isn’t something you
are
. It’s something you
do
.” She needed to hear what she was saying. With every word, she pleaded for an answer to her mute dread. “Having the courage to escape your prison is who you are. Wanting to help the
Elohim
because the world needs them is who you are. My son is who you are. Everything else is just making mistakes, or not having the right materials or enough help, or not knowing enough, or trying to do something that’s actually impossible. It just
happens
. It isn’t who you are.”
    With her whole heart, she asked, “How do you suppose Covenant managed to save the world
twice
? It isn’t because he’s stronger or smarter or greater than Lord Foul. He’s just stronger and smarter and greater than Lord Foul
thinks
he is. He’s had the right kind of help. And he isn’t afraid to take the chance that he’s going to fail.”
    “Mom.” Jeremiah was crying openly now. “Mom, stop. Please. I need—I need—”
    She understood that as well. Who would, if she did not? Remembering Anele—remembering
Must
and
Cannot
and the old man’s last valor, an act of self-confrontation that humbled her—she dropped her Staff and swept her son into her arms. Hugging him tightly, she murmured his name to him as if it confirmed his worth.
    Like a young boy, he sobbed hard for a moment—and like a teenager, he suppressed his pain quickly. For a heartbeat or two, he held his mother as she held him. Then he let go of her, stepped back from her clasp. Snuffling loudly, he rubbed his face with both hands, wiped his nose on his forearm. In a congested voice, he asked, “What’s taking Stave so long? The Flat is right over there.” He gestured uselessly in the darkness. “I’m hungry. He should be back by now.”
    Well, he was a fifteen-year-old boy, embarrassed by what he considered a show of weakness. For his sake, Linden smiled ruefully. Her sigh of regret she kept to herself.
    “I’m sure—” she began. But before she completed the sentence, she felt the former Master’s severe aura returning.
    “It’s about time,” Jeremiah muttered. Then he called to Stave, “Did you find
aliantha
? Are we that lucky?”
    Almost immediately, Stave arrived, a darker shape condensed from the raw stuff of night. His hands were full of damp plants. “I did not,” he answered. “However, I have discovered tubers which I deem edible. They resemble the roots