Free Against All Things Ending by Stephen R. Donaldson

Covenant was here before, you gave him everything,” advice and Vain as well as the location of the One Tree. The Forestal and Covenant’s Dead had prepared every step of his path to death and triumph. “Why didn’t you care about ‘the necessity of freedom’ then ? He’s Thomas Covenant. He would have found a way without you. I’m just lost.
    “Why have you forsaken me?”
    Caer-Caveral glowered at her, shedding reminders of his slain song. “Much has been altered since the Unbeliever last walked among the living. You are indeed forsaken, by the Dead as by the Earth’s Creator. How could it be otherwise, when all of your deeds conduce to ruin?”
    Then he said, “In pity, however,” although his tone held no pity, “I will observe that the Unbeliever entered Andelain alone, for no companion dared to stand at his side. He had neither health-sense nor the Staff of Law. The Ranyhyn had not cautioned him. He knew only love and compassion. Thus his need was greater than yours. For that reason, he was given gifts.
    “Yet the Dead shaped none of his choices. He did not come seeking guidance. Nor did he request aid. In sooth, he did not tread any path which he did not determine for himself—or which you did not determine on his behalf.
    “You have companions, Chosen, who have not faltered in your service. If you must have counsel, require it of them. They have no knowledge which you do not share, but their hearts are not consumed by darkness.”
    Abruptly Caer-Caveral unclasped his arms; gripped his scepter in one fist. Whirling the gnarled wood about him as though he were invoking music, a melody which had been silent for millennia, he removed himself from the night, leaving Linden alone on the slope of the vale.
    Beyond her, Andelain’s trees looked chthonic in the light of the krill . Behind her stood the charred stump of the Forestal’s former life, the krill itself, Thomas Covenant’s sprawled unconsciousness. The conflicting concerns and passions of her companions tugged at her nerves like accusations or pleading. And among them on the grass lay the Staff of Law and Covenant’s wild gold ring as if those instruments of power formed the pivot on which the fate of worlds turned.
    For a moment, Linden yearned to simply walk away. She had done something like that once before in Andelain, when her fears for or of Covenant had raised a wall between them. She could stride into the darkness and try to lose herself among the kindly folds of the Hills. There copses and greenswards and beauty might appease her guilt with their lenitive beneficence; soothe her savaged heart. She could walk and walk until there was nothing left of her, and the burden of the Land’s unanswerable needs fell to someone else.
    But to do so would be to forsake Jeremiah, as she herself had been forsaken. And her friends deserved more from her. After what she had done to him, Covenant deserved more.
    Days ago, Manethrall Mahrtiir had told her, Therein lay Kevin Landwaster’s error—aye, and great Kelenbhrabanal ’s also . When all hope was gone, they heeded the counsels of despair . Had they continued to strive, defying their doom, some unforeseen wonder might have occurred .
    Linden no longer believed in unforeseen wonders. They were Covenant’s province—and she had crippled him. Nevertheless she turned her back on the surrounding darkness and walked slowly down to rejoin her friends and the Ranyhyn, the Humbled and Infelice and the Harrow.
    None of them attended Covenant’s unconsciousness, although the Humbled stood guard over him. They were chary of him; restrained by awe, or by the fear that they might harm him inadvertently. Nevertheless everyone watching Linden understood too much: she could see that. For those who cared about her, what she had done was an ictus in their hearts. Liand and the Ramen lacked the Harrow’s provocative knowledge, Infelice’s Earth-spanning consciousness, the shared memories of the Haruchai . None