srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第100节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


rned　to　sand。　Rivers　ran　dry。　Stonedowns　and　Woodhelvens　were　overthrown。　Starvation　and　homelessness　slew　every　shape　of　life　that　walked　upon　the　earth。　He　was　the　Lord　of　a　ruin　more　absolute　than　any　other；　a　desolation　utterly　irreparable。
　　　　Never！
　　　　With　one　violent　thrust　of　his　will；　he　struck　the　green　from　his　ring　and　returned　to　the　thronehall。　His　wedding　band　was　immaculate　silver；　and　the　slashing　wind　of　its　power　was　wild　beyond　all　emerald　mastery。
　　　　He　almost　laughed。　The　Stone　could　not　corrupt　him；　he　was　already　as　fundamentally　diseased　as　any　corruption　could　make　him。
　　　　To　the　Despiser；　he　rasped；　〃You've　had　your　chance。　You've　used　your　filthy　power。　Now　it'　s　my　turn。　You　can'　t　stop　me。　You've　broken　too　many　Laws。　And　I'm　outside　the　Law。　It　doesn't　control　wild　magic；　it　doesn't　control　me。　But　it　was　the　only　thing　that　might　have　stopped　me。　You　could　have　used　it　against　me。　Now　it's　just　me…it's　my　will　that　makes　the　difference。〃　He　was　panting　heavily；　he　could　not　find　enough　air　to　support　the　extremity　of　his　passion。　〃I'm　a　leper；　Foul。　I　can　stand　anything。〃
　　　　At　once；　the　Despiser　attacked　him。　Foul　put　his　hands　on　the　Illearth　Stone；　placed　his　power　on　the　pulsing　heart　of　its　violence。　He　sent　green　might　raving　at　Covenant。
　　　　It　fell　on　him　like　the　collapse　of　a　mountain；　piled　onto　him　like　tons　of　wrecked　stone。　At　first　he　could　not　focus　the　ring　on　it；　and　it　drove　him　staggering　backward。　But　then　he　found　his　error。　He　had　tried　to　use　the　wild　magic　like　a　tool　or　weapon；　something　which　could　be　wielded。　But　High　Lord　Mhoram　had　told　him；　You　are　the　white　gold。　It　was　not　a　thing　to　be　manded；　employed　well　or　ill　as　skill　or　awkwardness　allowed。　Now　that　it　was　awake；　it　was　a　part　of　him；　an　expression　of　himself。　He　did　not　need　to　focus　it；　aim　it；　bone　and　blood；　it　arose　from　his　passion。
　　　　With　a　shout；　he　threw　back　the　attack；　shattered　it　into　a　million　droplets　of　rank　fever。
　　　　Again　Lord　Foul　struck。　Power　that　fried　the　air　between　them　sprang　at　Covenant；　strove　to　interrupt　the　white；　windless　gale　of　the　ring。　Their　conflict　coruscated　through　the　thronehall　like　a　mad　gibberish　of　lightning；　green　and　white　blasting；　battering；　devouring　each　other　like　all　the　storms　of　the　world　gone　insane。
　　　　Its　sheer　immensity　daunted　Covenant；　tried　like　a　landslide　to　sweep　the　feet　of　his　resolve　from　under　him。　He　was　unacquainted　with　power；　unadept　at　bat。　But　his　rage　for　lepers；　for　the　Land；　for　the　victims　of　Despite；　kept　him　upright。　And　his　Unbelief　enabled　him。　He　knew　more　pletely　than　any　native　of　the　Land　could　have　known　that　Lord　Foul　was　not　unbeatable。　In　this　manifestation；　Despite　had　no　absolute　reality　of　existence。　The　people　of　the　Land　would　have　failed　in　the　face　of　Despite　because　they　were　convinced　of　it。　Covenant　was　not。　He　was　not　overwhelmed；　he　did　not　believe　that　he　had　to　fail。　Lord　Foul　was　only　an　externalized　part　of　himself…not　an　immortal；　not　a　god。　Triumph　was　possible。
　　　　So　he　threw　himself　heart　and　soul　and　blood　and　bone　into　the　battle。　He　did　not　think　of　defeat；　the　personal　cost　was　irrelevant。　Lord　Foul　beat　him　back　until　he　was　pressed　to　the　wall　at　Foamfollower's　side。　The　savagery　of　the　Stone　made　a　holocaust　around　him；　tore　every　last　flicker　of　warmth　from　the　air；　shot　great　lurid　icicles　of　hatred　at　him。　But　he　did　not　falter。　The　wild　magic　was　passionate　and　unfathomable；　as　high　as　Time　and　as　deep　as　Earth…raw　power　limited　only　by　the　limits　of　his　will。　And　his　will　was　growing；　raising　its　head；　blossoming　on　the　rich　sap　of　rage。　Moment　by　moment；　he　was　being　equal　to　the　Despiser's　attack。
　　　　Soon　he　was　able　to　move。　He　forged　away　from　the　wall；　waded　like　a　strong　man　through　the　tempest　toward　his　enemy。　White　and　green　blasts　scalded　the　atmosphere；　detonations　of　savage　lightning　shattered　against　each　other。　Lord　Foul's　fiery　cold　and　Covenant's　gale　tore　at　each　other's　throats；　rent　each　other；　renewed　themselves　and　tore　again。　In　the　virulence　of　the　battle；　Covenant　thought　that　Ridjeck　Thome　would　surely　e　crashing　down。　But　the　Creche　stood；　the　thronehall　stood。　Only　Covenant　and　Lord　Foul　shook　in　the　thunderous　silence　of　the　power　storm。
　　　　Abruptly；　he　succeeded　in　driving　Lord　Foul　back　from　the　Stone。　At　once；　his　own　fire　blazed　still　higher。　Without　direct　contact；　the　Despiser's　control　over　his　emerald　bane　was　less　perfect。　His　exertions　became　more　frenzied；　erratic。　Unmastered　force　rocked　the　throne；　tore　ragged　hunks　of　stone　from　the　ceiling；　cracked　the　floor。　He　was　screaming　now　in　a　language　Covenant　could　not　understand。
　　　　The　Unbeliever　grabbed　his　opportunity。　He　moved　forward；　rained　furious　gouts　and　bolts　of　wild　magic　at　the　Despiser；　then　suddenly　began　to　form　a　wall　of　might　between　Lord　Foul　and　the　Stone。　Lord　Foul　shrieked；　tried　frantically　to　regain　the　Stone。　But　he　was　too　late。　In　an　instant；　Covenant's　force　had　surrounded　Lord　Foul。
　　　　With　all　the　rage　of　his　will；　he　pressed　his　advantage。　He　pounced　like　a　hawk；　clenched　power　around　the　Despiser。　Whitely；　brutally；　he　began　to　penetrate　the　penumbra。
　　　　Lord　Foul's　aura　resisted　with　shrieks　and　showers　of　sparks。　It　was　tough；　obdurate；　it　shed　Covenant's　feral　bolts　as　if　they　were　mere　show；　incandescent　child's　play。　But　he　refused　to　be　denied。　The　dazzling　of　his　wild　magic　flung　shafts　and　quarrels　of　might　at　the　emerald　glister　of　the　aura　until　one　prodigious　blast　pierced　it。
　　　　It　ruptured　with　a　shock　which　jarred　the　thronehall　like　an　earth　tremor。　Waves　of　concussion　pealed　at　Covenant's　head；　hammered　at　his　sore　and　feverish　skull。　But　he　clung　to　his　power；　did　not　let　his　will　wince。
　　　　The　whole　penumbra　burst　into　flame　like　a　skin　of　green　tinder；　and　as　it　burned　it　tore；　peeled　away；　fell　in　hot　shreds　and　tatters　to　the　floor。
　　　　Within　Covenant's　clench；　Lord　Foul　the　Despiser　began　to　appear。
　　　　By　faint　degrees；　he　became　material；　drifted　from　corporeal　absence　to　presence。　Perfectly　molded　limbs；　as　pure　as　alabaster；　grew　slowly　visible…an　old；　grand；　leonine　head；　magisterially　crowned　and　bearded　with　flowing　white　hair…an　enrobed；　dignified　trunk；　broad　and　solid　with　strength。　Only　his　eyes　showed　no　change；　no　stern；　impressive　surge　of　incarnation；　they　lashed　constantly　at　Covenant　like　fangs　wet　with　venom。
　　　　When　he　was　fully　present；　Lord　Foul　folded　his　arms　on　his　chest　and　said　harshly；　〃Now　you　do　in　truth　see　me；　groveler。〃　His　tone　gave　no　hint　of　fear　or　surrender。　〃Do　you　yet　believe　that　you　are　my　master？　Fool！　I　grew　beyond　your　petty　wisdom　or　belief　long　before　your　world's　babyhood。　I　tell　you　plainly；　groveler…Despite　such　as　mine　is　the　only　true　fruit　of　experience　and　insight。　In　time　you　will　not　do　otherwise　than　I　have　done。　You　will　learn　contempt　for　your　fellow　beings…for　the　small　malices　which　they　misname　their　loves　and　beliefs　and　hopes　and　loyalties。　You　will　learn　that　it　is　easier　to　control　them　than　to　forbear…easier　and　better。　You　will　not　do　otherwise。　You　will　bee　a　shadow　of　what　I　am…you　will　be　a　despiser　without　the　courage　to　despise。　Continue；　groveler。　Destroy　my　work　if　you　must…slay　me　if　you　can…but　make　an　end！　I　am　weary　of　your　shallow　misperception。〃
　　　　In　spite　of　himself；　Covenant　was　moved。　Lord　Foul's　lordly　mien；　his　dignity　and　resignation；　spoke　more　vividly　than　any　cursing　or　defiance。　Covenant　saw　that　he　still　had　answers　to　find；　regardless　of　all　he　had　endured。
　　　　But　before　he　could　respond；　try　to　articulate　the　emotions　and　intuitions　which　Lord　Foul's　words　called　up　in　him；　a　sudden　clap　of　vehemence　splintered　the　silence　of　the　thronehall。　A　great　invisible　door　opened　in　the　air　at　his　back；　without　warning；　strong　presences；　furious　and　abhorring；　stood　behind　him。　The　violence　of　their　emanations　almost　broke　his　concentrated　hold　on　Lord　Foul。
　　　　He　clenched　his　will；　steadied　himself　to　face　a　shock；　and　turned。
　　　　He　found　himself　looking　up　at　tall　figures　like　the　one　he　had　seen　in　the　cave　of　the　EarthBlood　under　Melenkurion　Skyweir。　They　towered　above　him；　grisly　and　puissant；　he　seemed　to　see　them　through　the　stone　rather　than　within　the　chamber。
　　　　They　were　the　specters　of　the　dead　Lords。　He　recognized　Kevin　Landwaster　son　of　Loric。　Beside　Kevin　stood　two　other　livid　men　whom　he　knew　instinctively　to　be　Loric　Vilesilencer　and　Damelon　Giantfriend。　There　were　Prothall；　Osondrea；　a　score　of　men　and　women　Covenant　had　never　met；　never　heard　named。　With　them　was　Elena　daughter　of　Lena。　And　behind　and　above　them　all　rose　another　figure；　a　dominating　man　with　hot　prophetic　eyes　and　one　halfhand：　Berek　Earthfriend；　the　Lord…Fatherer。
　　　　In　one　voice　like　a　thunder　of　abomination…one　voice　of　outrage　that　shook　Covenant　to　the　marrow　of　his　bones…they　cried；　〃Slay　him！　It　is　within　your　power。　Do　not　heed　his　treacherous　lies。　In　the　name　of　all　Earth　and　health；　slay　him！〃
　　　　The　intensity　of　their　passion　poured　at　him；　flooded　him　with　their　extreme　desire。　They　were　the　sworn　defenders　of　the　Land。　Its　glory　was　their　deepest　love。　Yet　in　one　way　or　another；　Lord　Foul　had　outd