The Last Dark by Stephen R. Donaldson

Author:Stephen R. Donaldson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-09-18T05:00:00+00:00

hen he was finally able to look around, he saw that the Forestal had fashioned a bower.

The willow had grown as tall as a Gilden. Spangles of song lingered on its leaves, bedecked its branches with bright silver like the glimmering of unendangered stars. Illumination under the canopy of the boughs seemed to hold the memory of wild magic made tender by acquiescence. The tree stood directly before the fane’s portal: its drooping arch almost concealed the construct. In the tree’s shade, luxuriant grass cushioned the ground like a profusion of pillows.

The plashing runnel was now a grateful brook. It seemed to carry light and music with it as it chimed out across the plain. And near the edges of the circle, where the leaves trailed along the grass, Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir had invoked aliantha. A score or more of the holly-like shrubs with their viridian berries ripe surrounded the greensward, abundant as a feast.

The relative privacy of the bower suggested a form of sustenance that Covenant needed more than food. Perhaps that was the Forestal’s intent. The heat in Linden’s eyes affirmed that she felt as Covenant did. He was in a trembling hurry.

But the company had other needs: those took precedence. The privation of the Giants was extreme. They had given their last strength—and then had given more. Covenant himself wanted more than the unsatisfying aliment of ussusimiel. Linden had probably gone longer without food. And Jeremiah was avid for treasure-berries.

For the sake of everyone with him, Covenant schooled himself to eat and drink and wait. When Linden smiled ruefully, he tried to match her.

Speaking for her comrades, the Ironhand gave thanks to the Forestal. They all bowed as if they declined to prostrate themselves only because they lacked the strength to rise again. Then they picked their fill of aliantha. The seeds they scattered around the plain and in the hollows like prayers for the Land’s future. More boisterously, Jeremiah followed their example. As for the Haruchai, Branl stood apart from the company as if all of his lacks had been satisfied by Longwrath’s flamberge; but Stave ate without hesitation and offered the former Manethrall his gratitude.

Considering that they were Giants, inclined to relish the bounty of their own relief, Rime Coldspray, Frostheart Grueburn, and the others finished their meal quickly. They spent only a few moments thanking Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir. Then they passed beyond the thick willow-trunk to reenter the fane, taking Jeremiah with them so that Covenant and Linden would have some semblance of privacy.

Stave also went into the construct, bowing first to Caerwood ur-Mahrtiir, then to Covenant, finally and most deeply to Linden. However, Branl remained. “Ur-Lord,” the Humbled said with his usual absence of inflection, “the return of the Chosen is a cause for gladness in itself, and is more so because she has restored a Forestal to the Land. Yet in one respect, it is misfortune. The Giants have been denied their caamora.”

To the sudden inquiry of Linden’s expression, he explained, “The ur-Lord sought to relieve their sorrow by drawing flame from Longwrath’s remains.

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