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

that’s what you want. If Covenant were here, things would be different. But he isn’t. I’m the one who has to go. I’m the only one who can. If I know that you’ll protect my son.”
    Stave’s manner conceded nothing. Nevertheless his response seemed to imply that a concession was possible. “Yet some companion you must have.”
    In Muirwin Delenoth, he had argued that the participation of
the natural inhabitants of the Earth
was a necessary condition for the world’s survival, just as the presence of
beings from beyond Time
was essential to Lord Foul’s designs. And Linden knew that she needed help.
    “I’ll take Hyn,” she answered weakly. “And Mahrtiir, if he’s willing.”
    He, too, could not assist Jeremiah. Nor could he fight Roger or Kastenessen or Ravers or—
    “Then, Linden,” Stave said as if he were merely offering to help her stand, “I will do as you request.” A heartbeat later, he added, “But do not doubt that my heart is torn within me. I will know neither certainty nor peace until your return.”
    Linden’s eyes were too dry for tears, but a sob twisted in her chest. “All right.” Bracing herself on the Staff of Law, she climbed to her feet. Then she dropped the wood so that she could wrap her arms around the former Master. “Thank you.”
    He called her by her name so rarely—
    She would not have been surprised if he had stood rigidly passive in her clasp. But he answered her hug with his own. Almost gently, he murmured, “You will not fail. Come good or ill, boon or bane, you are Linden Avery the Chosen. You will suffice.”
    When he let her go and stepped back, he had done enough. As he had from the first, he had given her more than she had any right to expect.
    She offered him a wrenched smile. “If you say so.”
    In spite of her weariness, she stooped to retrieve her Staff. Then she turned to face Jeremiah and the Giants and Mahrtiir and the meaning of her life.
    While her attention had been fixed on Stave, Jeremiah had descended from the rubble which she had gouged out of the ridge. Now he was running toward the Ironhand, Mahrtiir, and the rest of their companions. Rime Coldspray quickened her pace slightly to meet him; and Linden thought that he would leap into the Ironhand’s arms. But at the last moment, he restrained himself. Stopping suddenly, he braced his fists on his hips.
    “What kept you?” he demanded cheerfully. “We’ve been waiting for
ages
.”
    “Alas,” the Ironhand replied with a wan smile, “we are Giants and perforce laggardly. Yet at last we have come.” She kept on walking. With the boy trotting at her side to match her strides, she asked more soberly, “What are your tidings, young Jeremiah? Malachite we see. And we see that it has been but recently torn from the thrust of yon ridge. A prodigious feat, and unexpected. Your tale must be equally prodigious.”
    Stooping under her burdens, Linden moved to intercept her friends. The exhaustion of the Giants was plain at any distance. To arrive so promptly, they must have marched through the night. Nevertheless her heart was drawn to Manethrall Mahrtiir.
    His condition seemed as explicit as iconography. Uselessness and the loss of his health-sense had marked his mien until he looked haggard, too downtrodden to endure more: as deprived as he had been in the Lost Deep. But there he had been almost continuously active, and occasional gifts of Earthpower had eased his sense of futility. Here he had received no relief from the grinding depression wrought by Kevin’s Dirt. Now his misery ached like an unhealed wound.
    To ease his plight, Linden uncurled tendrils of flame from her Staff and stretched them over him. It was the least that she could do.
    Fortunately this effort was within her strength. When her fire touched the Manethrall, he reacted as if he had been struck. For an instant, his misery seemed to spread its wings and become joy. Almost at once, however, he reassumed the glower which had become habitual during the past few days. But now his scowl had recovered its familiar combativeness.
    While Linden wielded Earthpower, some of the Giants paused to stare at her. Others cheered for her sake, or for Mahrtiir’s. And Frostheart Grueburn called, “Prodigious tidings, in all sooth! Here surely is a tale worthy to be told at length, and to be heard with laughter!”
    “It was all Mom,” said Jeremiah proudly. “She was brilliant! She found pockets of water in the cliff and made