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

them explode. Now we have malachite.” Then he made a visible effort to contain his eagerness. “We can get started when you’ve had a chance to rest.”
    Through the twilight, Linden studied the faces of the Swordmainnir. Like Mahrtiir, they needed the Staff’s gifts. Yet she could see that rest and refreshment were not their primary concerns. They were hungry for some reason to believe that they had not expended themselves in a futile cause.
    “Alas,” repeated Rime Coldspray, speaking to Linden rather to Jeremiah, “our small store of viands we have consumed, lest we falter in our trek. Now I find that I am grieved by our failure of foresight. Your need for sustenance is clear.”
    Linden started to say, Don’t worry about it, but the Ironhand continued without pausing, “In truth, we knew not how to measure your need against our own. And we did not imagine that we would encounter no
aliantha
along our course.” Then she grinned grimly. “However, great Narunal is provident. We do not lack for water.”
    Wearily Grueburn, Latebirth, and Onyx Stonemage held up bulging waterskins.
    Linden wanted to express her thanks, but her throat was too dry for speech.
    “Well, all
right
!” Jeremiah answered for her. “We haven’t eaten since we cooked some roots near the Sarangrave. But it was like chewing mud. My stomach still isn’t happy. And you have no idea how bad water tastes there. I could drink a gallon.”
    The Giants exchanged quick glances. Stonemage promptly lowered a waterskin, untied its neck, and held it for Jeremiah.
    At the same time, Coldspray faced Linden with danger in her eyes. “Beyond question, there are tidings here. What mischance or peril guided you within the lurker’s reach? At no time did our own course approach the noisome banes of Sarangrave Flat.”
    Struggling to moisten her throat, Linden admitted in an awkward rasp, “That’s a story. We have a lot to talk about.” She looked around. “Maybe we can find a place to sit down. I’m thirsty too,” and so tired that her knees quivered. “I can try to explain while we’re resting.”
    Coldspray agreed with a nod. Pointing toward an area where several large chunks of the ridge formed an arc with a clear space among them, she said, “There we may sit at our ease. When you have relieved your thirst, we will hear your tale.”
    Linden nodded in turn. That place would be as good as any. It was far enough from the scar to be safe from late-falling stones and slides. And she wanted something to lean against: support for her back, if not for her raw heart.
    Sighing, she accompanied Rime Coldspray.
    The rest of the Giants followed with Stave and Jeremiah; but Mahrtiir brought Narunal to Linden’s side. Dismounting, he bowed his homage to the stallion; watched briefly as the Ranyhyn cantered away in the direction taken by Hyn, Hynyn, and Khelen. Then he turned to Linden.
    “Ringthane,” he began gruffly, “I have no speech adequate to my gratitude—aye, or to my bitterness. It is my greatest wish to prove worthy of this company, and of the peril of these times, yet Kevin’s Dirt renders me effectless. Having naught of merit to say on such matters, I will not speak of them again. Know only that I am avid for use—and that my thoughts are clamorous with concern for the Swordmainnir. Giants they are in good sooth. Yet they have walked without respite for nigh unto two days and a night, and now an immense labor awaits them. Some succor they must have.
    “Ringthane, I ask this of you. When you have rested, extend to the Ironhand and her comrades the same benison which you have bestowed upon me. They will have need of it.”
    Oh, Mahrtiir. Linden dragged her free hand through her hair, tugging to untangle emotions as complex and self-referential as the wards which had guarded the Lost Deep. “As soon as I get some rest,” she assured him. “After what they’ve been through, I’m surprised that they’re still on their feet.”
    “That is well,” the Manethrall replied more quietly.
    Watching him sidelong, Linden saw that his spirit required more substantial nourishment. But she was not ready to speak of that.
    He would get his chance to be of use.
    As she and her friends reached the stones that Coldspray had indicated, several of the Swordmainnir groaned with relief. Cirrus Kindwind, Cabledarm, and Halewhole Bluntfist began loosening their armor. Latebirth, Stonemage, and Galesend handed their water skins to Grueburn.