White Gold Wielder (The Second Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, Book 3)

White Gold Wielder (The Second Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, Book 3)

Stephen R. Donaldson

Language: English

Pages: 512

ISBN: 0345348702

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Thomas Covenant knew that despite his failure on the Isle of The One Tree, he had to return to the Land and fight. After a long and arduous journey, fighting all the way, he readies himself for the final showdown with Lord Foul, the Despiser, and begins to understand things he had only just wondered about before....

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his lungs, cinder the frail life of his flesh and rave through him into the last foundation of his will. The fang-marks on his forearm burned like glee. Yet he did not halt or hesitate. He had set his feet to this path of his own volition; he accepted it completely. Pausing only to bring down the master-rukh in molten rain so that the surviving Riders would be cut off from their strength, he moved into the inferno. That is the grace which has been given to you. A small clear space like hope

home of the Bhrathair, a people who have spent most of their history in a way against the feral Sandgorgons of the Great Desert. They are ruled by an ancient thaumaturge, Kasreyn of the Gyre, who covets Covenant’s ring. Kasreyn attempts to free Covenant’s mind so that Covenant can be compelled to release it to him. These initial efforts fail, so Kasreyn seeks to coerce Linden to obtain the ring for him by exposing the Haruchai to the violence of the Sandgorgons—slaying Hergrom, crippling Ceer—and

been wrong, inexcusable. She had read in him his intent to risk the Banefire, and she had reacted as if he meant to commit suicide. Instinctively she had tried to stop him. But then his life and the risk had been his alone. She had had no right to interfere. Now, however, he surrendered the Earth as well as himself. He was not simply risking his own life: he was submitting all life to certain destruction. Therefore she had the responsibility to intervene. The responsibility and the right. The

Threndor until the Giants were frantic, unable to help her. But then her own need drove her to more power. The Staff flamed so intensely that her body should have been burned away. Yet she was not hurt. Rather, the pain she had taken upon herself was swept from her—cured and cleansed, and sent spilling outward as pure Earthpower. With Law, she healed herself. She hardly understood what she was doing: it was an act of exaltation, chosen by intuition rather than conscious thought. But she saw her

scald in the green-hued air. Every glimpse turned Linden’s taut, delicate features a shade paler. Memory and emanations of power assaulted her vulnerable senses. She had once been Gibbon-Raver’s prisoner in Revelstone, and his touch had raised the darkness coiled around the roots of her soul to the stature of all night. Yet she did not falter. She had aimed the company to this place by the strength of her own will, had wrested this promise from Covenant when he had been immobile with despair. In

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