Lord Foul's Bane by Stephen R. Donaldson Read Free Book Online

his peril- saw at the last who I was. Then there was war between us, war that blasted the west and threatened his precious Keep itself. The feller fist was mine and he knew it. When his armies faltered and his power waned, he lost himself in despair- he became mine in despair. He thought that he still might utterly undo me. Therefore he met me in that cavern from which I have rescued you Kiril Threndor, Heart of Thunder.
"Drool Rockworm does not know what a black rock it is on which he stands. And that is not his only ignorance- but of my deeper plans I say nothing. He serves me well in his way, though he does not intend service. Likewise will you and those timid Lords serve me, whether you choose or no. Let them grope through their shallow mysteries for a time, barely fearing that I am alive. They have not mastered the seventh part of dead Kevin's Lore, and yet in their pride they dare to name themselves Earthfriends, servants of Peace. They are too blind to perceive their own arrogance. But I will teach them to see.
"In truth it is already too late for them. They will come to Kiril Threndor, and I will teach them things to darken their souls. It is fitting. There Kevin met and dared me in his despair. And I accepted. The fool! I could hardly speak the words for laughing. He thought that such spells might unbind me.
"But the Power which upholds me has stood since the creation of Time. Therefore when Kevin dared me to unleash the forces that would strike the Land and all its accursed creations into dust, I took the dare. Yes, and laughed until there was doubt in his face before the end. That folly brought the age of the Old Lords to its ruin- but I remain. I! Together we stood in Kiril Threndor, blind Kevin and I. Together we uttered the Ritual of Desecration. Ah, the fool! He was already enslaved to me and knew it not. Proud of his Lore, he did not know that the very Law which he served preserved me through that cataclysm, though all but a few of his own people and works were stricken into death.
“True, I was reduced for a time. I have spent a thousand years gnawing my desires like a beaten cur. The price of that has yet to be paid- for it and other things I shall exact my due. But I was not destroyed. And when Drool found the Staff and recognized it, and could not use it, I took my chance again. I will have the future of this life, to waste or hold as I desire. So pray to me, groveller. Reject the doom that my Enemy has created for you. You will not have many chances to repent.”
The fog and the attar-laden air seemed to weaken Covenant, as if the strength were being absorbed from his blood. But his heart beat on, and he clung to it for a defence against the fear. He wrapped his arms about his chest and bent low, trying to shelter himself from the cold. “What doom?” he forced himself to say. His voice sounded pitiful and lost in the mist.
“He intends you to be my final foe. He chose, groveller, with a might in your hands such as no mortal has ever held before- chose you to destroy me. But he will find that I am not so easily mastered. You have might-wild magic which preserves your life at this moment- but you will never know what it is. You will not be able to fight me at the last. No, you are the victim of his expectations, and I cannot free you by death- not yet. But we can turn that strength against him, and rid him of the Earth entirely.”
“Health?” Covenant looked painfully up from the ground. “You said health.”
“Whatever health you lack, groveller. Only pray to me, while I am still patient.”
But the voice's contempt cut too deep. Covenant's violence welled up in the wound. He began to fight. Heaving himself up off his knees, he thought, No. I'm not a groveller. With his teeth gritted to stop his trembling, he asked, “Who are you?”
As if sensing its mistake, the voice became smoother. “I have had many names,” it said. “To the Lords of Revelstone, I am Lord Foul the Despiser; to the Giants