The 1st Chronicles of Thomas Covenant #2: The Illearth War by Stephen R. Donaldson Read Free Book Online Page A

gathering blood from his brows, and thought about dying.
    It would be worth it, he mused. After all it would be worth it to escape. He was not tough enough to persevere when even his dreams turned against him. He should leave living to the people who were potent for it.
    Ah, hellfire, he sighed. Hellfire.
    Distantly, he heard the great doors of the Close swing open. The murmuring in the air stopped at once; everyone turned and looked toward the doors. Forcing himself to spend some of his waning strength, Covenant twisted around to see who was coming.
    The sight struck him cruelly, seemed to take the last rigor out of his bones.
    He watched with bloodied eyes as two Bloodguard came down the stairs, holding upright between them a green-gray creature that oozed with fear. Though they were not handling it roughly, the creature trembled in terror and revulsion. Its hairless skin was slick with sweat. It had a generally human outline, but its torso was unusually long, and its limbs were short, all equal in length, as if it naturally ran on four legs through low caves. But its limbs were bent and useless-contorted as if they had been broken many times and not reset. And the rest of its body showed signs of worse damage.
    Its head was its least human feature. Its bald skull had no eyes. Above the ragged slit of its mouth, in the center of its face, were two wide, wet nostrils that quivered fearfully around the edges as the creature smelled its situation. Its small pointed ears perched high on its skull. And the whole back of its head was gone. Over the gap was a green membrane like a scar, pulsing against the remaining fragment of a brain.
    Covenant knew immediately what it was. He had seen a creature like it once before-whole in body, but dead, lying on the floor of its Waymeet with an iron spike through its heart.
    It was a Waynhim. A Demondim-spawn, like the ur-viles. But unlike their black roynish kindred, the Waynhim had devoted their lore to the services of the Land.
    This Waynhim had been lavishly tortured.
    The Bloodguard brought the creature down to the bottom of the Close, and held it opposite Covenant. Despite his deep weakness, he forced himself to his feet, and kept himself up by leaning against the wall of the next level. Already, he seemed to be regaining some of the added dimension of sight which characterized the Land. He could see into the Waynhim could feel with his eyes what had been done to it. He saw torment and extravagant pain — saw the healthy body of the Waynhim caught in a fist of malice, and crushed gleefully into this crippled shape. The sight made his eyes hurt. He had to lock his knees to brace himself up. A cold mist of hebetude and despair filled his head, and he was, glad for the blood which clogged his eyes; it preserved him from seeing the Waynhim.
    Through his fog, he heard Elena say, “Ur-Lord Covenant, it is necessary to burden you with this sight. We must convince you of our need. Please forgive such a welcome to the Land. The duress of our plight leaves us little choice.
    “Ur-Lord, this poor creature brought us to the decision of your summoning. For years we have known that the Despiser prepares his strength to march against the Land-that the time appointed in his prophecy grows short for us. You delivered that prophecy unto us, and the Lords of Revelstone have not been idle. From the day in which Lord Mhoram brought to Lord’s Keep the Staff of Law and the Second Ward of Kevin’s Lore, we have striven to meet this doom. We have multiplied the Warward, studied our defenses, trained ourselves in all our skills and strengths. We have learned some of the uses of the Staff. The Loresraat has explored with all its wisdom and devotion the Second Ward. But in forty years, we have gained no clear knowledge of Lord Foul’s intent. After the wresting of the Staff from Drool Rockworm, the Despiser’s presence left Kiril Threndor in Mount Thunder, and soon reseated itself in the great thronehall