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The Illearth War [Paperback]

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  • Category: Books (Fiction)
  • Author:  Donaldson, Stephen R.
  • Author:  Donaldson, Stephen R.
  • ISBN-10:  0345348664
  • ISBN-10:  0345348664
  • ISBN-13:  9780345348661
  • ISBN-13:  9780345348661
  • Publisher:  Del Rey
  • Publisher:  Del Rey
  • Pages:  544
  • Pages:  544
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-May-1987
  • Pub Date:  01-May-1987
  • SKU:  0345348664-11-SPLV
  • SKU:  0345348664-11-SPLV
  • Item ID: 100126544
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
  • Transit time: Up to 5 business days
  • Delivery by: Jan 18 to Jan 20
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.
“The Thomas Covenant saga . . . will certainly find a place on the small list of true classics in its specialized field.”—The Washington Post Book World

After scant days in his “real” world, Thomas Covenant finds himself again summoned to the Land. There, forty bitter years have passed, while Lord Foul, immortal enemy of the Land, moves to fulfill his prophecy of doom.

The Council of Lords find their spells useless, now that Foul the Despiser holds the Illearth Stone, ancient source of evil power. At last High Lord Elena turns in desperation to Covenant and the legendary white gold magic of his ring. . . .Stephen R. Donaldson is the bestselling author of the series The Gap Cycle, Mordant's Need, and the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever, includingLord Foul's Baneand The Second Chronicles of Thomas Covenant; and other works, such as Daughter of Regals and Other Talesand a mystery series under the pseudonym Reed Stephens. He is the recipient of the first prize of the British Science Fiction Society and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award.ONE: The Dreams of Men
 
By the time Thomas Covenant reached his house the burden of what had happened to him had already become intolerable.
 
When he opened the door, he found himself once more in the charted neatness of his living room. Everything was just where he had left it—just as if nothing had happened, as if he had not spent the past four hours in a coma or in another world where his disease had been abrogated despite the fact that such a thing was impossible, impossible. His fingers and toes were all numb and cold; their nerves were dead. That could never be changed. His living room—all his rooms—were organized and carpeted and padded so that he could at least try to feel safe from the hazard of bumps, cuts, burns, bruises which could damage him mortally because helƒf
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