By Stephen R. Donaldson
Thomas Covenant knew that regardless of his failure at the Isle of the single Tree, he needed to go back to the Land and struggle. After an extended and onerous trip, combating the entire approach, he readies himself for the ultimate showdown with Lord Foul, the Despiser, and starts off to appreciate issues he had merely simply questioned approximately before....
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Additional info for White Gold Wielder (The Second Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, Book 3)
Mayhap his muteness used to be made beneficial through the imaginative and prescient itself. Mayhap for him no denial of demise used to be attainable which might now not even have been a denial of lifestyles. i do know not anything of that. i do know in simple terms that he couldn't communicate his plight—and so he couldn't be stored. there is not any blame for us during this. ” He spoke as if he believed what he used to be announcing; however the loss knotted round his eyes contradicted him. “His demise locations no burden upon us however the burden of wish. ” The sundown used to be fading from the west and from his face, translating his mien from pink to the pallor of ashes.
However it used to be there. The rapine of the Land’s final attractiveness had began. For a protracted second, she remained nonetheless, shocked into her outdated paralysis by means of the unforeseen swiftness with which the Sunbane attacked Andelain’s residual legislation. She had no strength. there has been not anything she may well do. yet her center scrambled for defenses—and chanced on one. Her pals lacked her Land-bred senses. they wouldn't see the Sunbane emerging towards them; and so the Giants wouldn't search stone to guard themselves. they'd be reworked like Marid into creatures of destruction and self-loathing.
How else have been we going to break out from these ur-viles? yet he went on, “I was once petrified of strength. i assumed it made me what I hate—another Landwaster. A resource of regardless of for the folk I care approximately. yet I don’t desire strength. i will do an analogous factor through simply status there. ” She sat up and peered at him throughout the moon-edged evening. He lay together with his again to her, the blanket shivering somewhat on his shoulders. She ached to place her hands round him, locate a few secure heat within the touch in their our bodies.
He appeared to have seemed in solution to her desire. He had stood there sooner than her, his face a hatchment of rue and pressure; and his yellow eyes had ached as though they have been accustomed to the guts of the Banefire. “Sun-Sage,” he had breathed softly, “I comprehend now not the way to dissuade you. i don't hope your death—though mayhap i might be spared a lot thereby. but reflect on the ring-wielder. What desire will stay for him while you're long past? How will he then refuse the recourse of the Earth’s spoil? ” desire? she had suggestion.
Sooner than she understood— He had gripped Findail with the hand that hung from his wood forearm. different perceptions demanded her awareness, yet she was once sluggish to note them. She had no longer heeded the Appointed’s caution. Too overdue, she sensed move within the passage which had led the corporate to this abyss. alongside the rim of the pit, a celebration of Cavewights charged into the rocklight. not less than a rating of them. Upright on their lengthy limbs, they have been virtually as tall as Pitchwife. They ran with an exaggerated, jerky awkwardness, like stick-figures; yet their power was once unmistakable: they have been the delvers of the Wightwarrens.