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

that confused look. I told you I'm a leper. My hands and feet are numb- no feeling. I can't grip. And I'm- not very good at heights. I might fall. I don't want you below me. You-” He balked, then went on roughly, “You've been decent to me, and I haven't had to put up with that for a long time.”
She winced at his tone. “Why are you angry? How have I offended you?”
By being nice to me! he rasped silently. His face was grey with fear as he turned, dropped to his hands and knees, and backed out through the gap.
In the first rush of trepidation, he lowered his feet to the stairs with his eyes closed. But he could not face the descent without his eyes; the leper's habit of watching himself, and the need to have all his senses alert, were too strong. Yet with his eyes open the height made his head reel. So he strove to keep his gaze on the rock in front of him. From the first step, he knew that his greatest danger lay in the numbness of his feet. Numb hands made him feel unsure of every grip, and before he had gone fifty feet he was clenching the edges so hard that his shoulders began to cramp. But he could see his hands, see that they were on the rock, that the aching in his wrists and elbows was not a lie. His feet he could not see- not unless he looked down. He could only tell that his foot was on a stair when his ankle felt the pressure of his weight. In each downward step he lowered himself onto a guess. If he felt an unexpected flex in his arch, he had to catch himself with his arms and get more of his foot onto the unseen stair. He tried kicking his feet forward so that the jar of contact would tell him when his toes were against the edge of the next stair; but when he misjudged, his shins or knees struck the stone corners, and that sharp pain nearly made his legs fold.
Climbing down stair by stair, staring at his hands with sweat streaming into his eyes, he cursed the fate which had cut away two of his fingers- two fingers less to save himself with if his feet failed. In addition, the absence of half his hand made him feel that his right hold was weaker than his left, that his weight was pulling leftward off the stair. He kept reaching his feet to the right to compensate, and kept missing the stairs on that side.
He could not get the sweat out of his eyes. It stung him like blindness, but he feared to release one hand to wipe his forehead, feared even to shake his head because he might lose his balance. Cramps tormented his back and shoulders. He had to grit his teeth to keep from crying for help.
As if she sensed his distress, Lena shouted, “Halfway!”
He crept on downward, step by step.
Helplessly, he felt himself moving faster. His muscles were failing- the strain on his knees and elbows was too great and with each step he had less control over his descent. He forced himself to stop and rest, though his terror screamed for him to go on, get the climb over with. For a wild instant, he thought that he would simply turn and leap, hoping he was close enough to land on the mountain slope and live. Then he heard the sound of Lena's feet approaching his head. He wanted to reach up and grab her ankles, force her to save him. But even that hope seemed futile, and he hung where he was, quivering.
His breath rattled harshly through his clenched teeth, and he almost did not understand Lena's shout:
“Thomas Covenant! Be strong! Only fifty steps remain!”
With a shudder that almost tore him loose from the rock, he started down again.
The last steps passed in a loud chaos of cramps and sweat blindness- and then he was down, lying flat on the level base of the Watch and gasping at the cries of his limbs. For a long time, he covered his face and listened to the air lurching in and out of his lungs like sobs- listened until the sound relaxed and he could breathe more quietly.
When he finally looked up, he saw the blue sky, the long black finger of Kevin's Watch pointing at the noon sun, the towering slope of the mountain,