Goodkind Meets Stephen Donaldson - Lord Rahl's Bane

Covenang looked up at her. "Well, underage girl, take off your clothes. Or would you rather I tear them off you. Your choice."

He tore off Kahlena's dress-thing. Her limbs would not move; she was helpless with anguish.

"You are a part of my imagination, now," he said in a low, dangerous tone. "You belong to my demented subconsciousness - no one else's. I can imagine myself doing whatever I wish with you. If I visualize impaling your belly with a spear, the duty of my neural cells is to imagine you bleeding to death. If I fantasize giving you to Darkendrool Rockworm and his two Cavewightish pals, Stonecarrot and Mineraltentacle, you will walk all the way to People's Mount Thunder for it, whether you like it not, whether you do it willingly or not, whether you feel like doing it or not, whether it's on your to-do list or not, whether you are proactive about it or not. You belong to my demented subconsciousness now. Your fate is what I re-enact from my hentai collection. You have no choice in what happens to you. None. None whatsoever. Zero. None at all. Plain none. Everything that happens to you is by my sexual deviance alone."

"It's still rape fantasy."

"Of course it's rape fantasy! That's my twisted kink! That's what you have coming in this wet dream of mine!"

He charged the bit of ground with Kahlena on it like an enraged Sandgorgon. His grey eyes were filled with normal eye-goo thing and a gaze like a raptor. Kahlena had it all planned out but she panicked and forgot all her plans. Covenang instantly glided to rest on top of her.

She was better than he was. He was only the prophecied White Communism Wielder, the only one with a chance of saving the universe from Lord Rahl's speeches. He could only have her by force (or by saying please). He could never have her willingly (without saying please) because she was better than she was, and she deserved better by far, like Lord Rahl the Objectivist or a resurrected Zedd Halfhand, the greatest hero in history. He could never have an underage, naive, hero-worshipping, country hick girl like her except by force (or by saying please) because he was a "leper outcast unclean", whatever that meant, and even though he wasn't one anymore other than in his mind.

"Is your figment of imagination of figments of imagination satisfactory, ur-Lord?" she mocked.



He abruptly rolled over onto her. "You can't imagine how long I've wanted to do this to you... Well, you can: the entire day we have known each other," he said in a suddenly menacing voice.

"No," he said to himself. "No, this is not what I want."

Kahlena was bewildered. She wasn't sure she had heard what she thought she'd heard. What Covenang had just said had been very bewildering. It was so bewildering that she wasn't sure of what she had heard and was bewildered. She was confused, now.

"No," he repeated again. "Not like this. You don't want this, but it would only be mildly graphic. You would not like it, but it wouldn't be excessively graphic and disgusting. I want to do this both to you and Lord Rahl the Objectivist (or Zedd Halfhand or Triochase the Ordinary Cattleherd). I want you to develop a mental illness from the terror and shame. I want you to fall in love with me and develop a delusion that I love you. I want you to start imagining that you've stopped aging. I want that memory be repressed but subconsciously haunt you for however long you might live, haunt Lord Rahl (or whoever) forever, every time he looks at you. I want him to learn to be an unhappy but caring substitute husband/mental health nurse, to take care of what you have come to represent to him. To take care of your beautiful and talented baby daughter, the beautiful and talented baby daughter I will give to you and later fall in love with.

"To do that, you have to know that you are a figment of my filthy imagination, first. If I do this to you now, it will only dull you to me, spoil the exquisite porn-value it would generate if you were an experienced courtesan. You have to know. You have to memorize Kamasutra, you have to memorize it all, become a total slut on your own, if this is to truly be rape fantasy... and I intend it to be the rape fantasy causing the highest percentage of readers to quit the book that you can suffer, a rape fantasy that will give you a child that he will see as a step-daddy's little girl, as a sweet, innocent baby."

He grinned at her. "And if you get the idea of not trying to sneak away, or worse, to go down on me in my sleep, you had better forget it right now. It won't work. I'm impotent."
- Nerdanel