tw.thestoneoffarewell-第140部分

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！


nst　the　storming　sky。　The　giants'　voices　rolled　and　boomed　across　the　water；　as　though　they　threatened　not　just　the　puny　creatures　below；　but　the　Stone　of　Farewell　itself；　squatting　in　serene　insolence　just　beyond　their　reach。
　　〃Done；〃　Binabik　said；　tying　the　last　knot。　〃Let　us　move　it　to　the　water。　If　it　is　not　floating；　you　will　have　that　fight　you　so　desire；　Sludig。〃
　　It　did　float；　once　they　had　pushed　it　out　past　the　tangle　of　drowned　undergrowth。　Above　the　storm　came　the　dull　crackling　of　vegetation　being　smashed　aside　as　the　giants　came　pushing　their　way　down　the　muddy　hillside。　Sludig　carefully　tossed　Thorn　onto　the　damp　logs。　Binabik　hastened　back　to　loot　the　saddlebags。　He　dragged　one　leather　sack　over　unopened；　and　hung　it　out　to　Sludig；　who　stood　waist…deep　in　the　murky　water。　〃Those　things　are　belonging　to　Simon；〃　the　troll　called。　〃They　should　not　be　lost。〃　Sludig　shrugged；　but　pushed　the　bag　on　beside　the　wrapped　sword。
　　〃What　about　the　horses？〃　Sludig　shouted。　The　howl　of　their　pursuers　was　growing　louder。
　　〃What　can　we　do？〃　Binabik　said　helplessly。　〃We　must　set　them　free！〃　He　drew　his　knife　and　slashed　the　bridle…traces　from　Sludig's　mount；　then　rapidly　cut　the　belly…straps　of　the　packhorses　as　well；　so　that　their　burdens　slid　down　onto　the　muddy　turf。
　　〃Hurry；　troll！〃　Sludig　cried。　〃They　are　very　close！〃　
　　Binabik　looked　around；　his　face　screwed　up　in　desperate　thought。　He　bent　and　rifled　one　last　saddlebag；　pulling　a　few　articles　out　before　pelting　down　the　slope　once　more　and　out　into　the　water。　
　　〃Get　on；〃　growled　Sludig。　
　　〃Qantaqa！〃　Binabik　shouted。　〃e！〃　
　　The　wolf　snarled　as　she　turned　to　face　the　ruckus　of　the　oning　giants。　The　horses　were　rushing　in　all　directions；　whinnying　with　fright。　Suddenly；　Sludig's　mount　broke　away　through　the　trees　toward　the　east　and　the　others　swiftly　followed。　The　giants　were　now　quite　plain；　a　few　hundred　paces　up　the　hill　and　descending　rapidly；　their　leathery　black　faces　gaping　as　they　howled　their　hunting　song。　The　Hunen　carried　great　clubs　which　they　whickered　back　and　forth　like　hollow　reeds；　smashing　a　pathway　through　the　knotted　trees　and　shrubbery。
　　〃Qantaqa！〃　Binabik　shouted；　panic　in　his　voice。　〃Ummu　nimi！　Ummu　sosa！〃　
　　The　wolf　turned　and　bounded　toward　them；　breasting　the　water　then　paddling　furiously。　Sludig　pushed　off；　taking　a　few　more　steps　down　the　submerged　slope　until　his　feet　no　longer　touched　the　bottom。　Before　they　were　thirty　cubits　from　the　water's　edge；　Qantaqa　had　caught　them。　She　scrambled　over　Sludig's　back　onto　the　raft；　setting　it　rocking　treacherously　and　almost　sinking　the　Rimmersman。
　　〃No；　Qantaqa！〃　Binabik　cried；
　　〃Let　her　be！〃　Sludig　gurgled。　〃Reach　down　and　paddle！〃　
　　The　first　giant　burst　from　the　forest　behind　them；　howling　with　rage。　His　shaggy　head　twisted　from　side　to　side　as　if　he　sought　some　other　angle　to　head　off　his　prey's　escape。　When　none　was　apparent；　he　strode　forward　into　the　water。　He　went　several　steps　before　he　suddenly　fell　forward　with　a　splash；　disappearing　from　view　for　a　moment　beneath　the　water。　When　he　surfaced　an　instant　later　he　was　thrashing　madly；　dirty　white　fur　festooned　with　branches。　He　raised　his　chin　and　barked　thunderously　at　the　storm；　as　though　demanding　help。　His　fellows　swarmed　on　the　shore　behind　him；　hooting　and　groaning　with　frustrated　bloodlust。
　　The　first　giant　swam　awkwardly　and　unhappily　back　to　the　shallows。　He　stood　up；　streaming　with　water；　and　reached　down　an　apelike　arm　to　pull　loose　a　massive　tree　limb　thick　as　a　man's　leg。　Grunting；　he　flung　it　through　the　air。　The　limb　hit　the　water　beside　the　raft　with　a　tremendous　splash；　tearing　Sludig's　cheek　with　a　jutting　branch　and　nearly　upsetting　the　crude　boat。　Stunned；　Sludig　foundered。　Binabik　disentangled　himself　from　Qantaqa　and　leaned　forward；　hooking　the　toes　of　his　boots　into　gaps　between　the　beams　of　the　pitching　raft。　The　little　man　clutched　the　Rimmersman's　wrist　with　both　hands　until　Sludig　recovered。　The　giants　hurled　more　missiles；　but　none　came　as　close　as　the　first。　Their　thwarted　bellows　seemed　to　rumble　across　all　the　flooded　valley。
　　Cursing　giants　and　rafts　equally；　Sludig　pushed　off　with　his　long　Qanuc　spear　until　they　at　last　floated　free　of　clinging　branches。　He　began　to　kick；　pushing　the　raft　and　its　unlikely　cargo　out　across　the　chill　gray　water　toward　the　shadowy　stone。
　　
　　
　　Eolair　rode　east　from　his　ancestral　home　of　Nad　Mullach　beneath　night　skies　a…flicker　with　strange　lights。　The　countryside　around　his　captured　stronghold　had　proved　less　hospitable　than　he　had　hoped。　Many　of　his　people　had　already　been　driven　away　by　the　misfortunes　of　war　and　the　terrible　weather；　and　those　who　remained　were　reluctant　to　open　their　doors　to　a　stranger…even　if　that　stranger　claimed　to　be　the　ruling　count。　Occupied　Hernystir　was　a　land　held　prisoner　more　by　fear　than　by　enemy　soldiers。
　　 　Few　others　were　abroad　by　night；　which　was　when　Eolair　did　most　of　his　traveling。　Even　Skali　of　Kaldskryke's　men；　despite　their　conquerors'　crowns；　seemed　reluctant　to　stir　forth；　as　if　taking　on　the　character　of　those　they　had　conquered。　In　this　grim　summer　of　snow　and　restless　spirits；　even　the　war's　victors　bowed　before　a　greater　power。
　　Eolair　was　more　than　ever　certain　that　he　must　find　Josua；　if　the　prince　still　lived。　Maegwin　might　have　sent　him　on　this　quest　because　of　some　odd　or　spiteful　notion；　but　now　it　seemed　laughably　apparent　that　the　north　of　Osten　Ard　had　fallen　beneath　a　shadow　of　more　than　human　origin；　and　that　the　riddle　of　the　sword　Bright…Nail　might　very　well　have　something　to　do　with　it。　Why　else　would　the　gods　have　arranged　that　Eolair　should　be　in　that　monstrously　strange　city　beneath　the　ground；　or　that　he　should　meet　its　even　stranger　denizens？　The　Count　of　Nad　Mullach　was　a　pragmatist　by　nature。　His　long　years　of　service　to　the　king　had　hardened　his　heart　to　fantasy；　but　at　the　same　time　his　experience　of　diplomacy　had　also　made　him　mistrustful　of　excessive　coincidence。　To　suggest　that　there　was　no　overriding　supernatural　element　to　the　summer…　that…was…winter；　the　reappearance　of　creatures　out　of　legend；　and　the　sudden　importance　of　forgotten　but　near…mythical　swords　was　to　close　one's　eyes　to　a　reality　as　plain　as　the　mountains　and　the　seas。
　　Also；　despite　all　his　endless　days　in　the　court　of　Erkynland；　Nabban；　and　Perdruin；　and　for　all　his　cautious　words　to　Maegwin；　Eolair　was　a　Herynstirman。　More　than　any　other　mortal　men；　the　Hemystiri　remembered。　
　　
　　As　Eolair　rode　into　Erkynland；　across　bleak　Utanyeat　toward　the　battle　site　of　Ach　Samrath；　the　storm　grew　stronger。　The　snow；　however　unseasonable；　had　until　now　fallen　only　moderately；　as　it　might　in　the　early　days　of　Novander。　Now　the　winds　were　rising；　changing　the　flat　countryside　into　a　flurrying　landscape　of　white　nothingness。　The　cold　was　so　fierce　that　he　was　forced　to　abandon　night　riding　altogether　for　a　few　days；　but　he　worried　little　about　being　recognized：　the　roads　and　countryside　were　all　but　deserted　even　at　gray；　blustery　noon。　He　noted　with　sour　satisfaction　that　Utanyeat…the　earldom　of　Guthwulf；　one　of　High　King　Ellas'　favorites…was　as　storm…wounded　as　any　of　Hernystir。　There　was　some　justice；　after　all。
　　Trekking　endlessly　through　white　emptiness；　he　found　himself　thinking　often　of　his　people　left　behind；　but　especially　of　Maegwin。　Although　in　some　ways　she　had　bee　almost　as　wild　and　intractable　as　a　beast　since　the　death　of　her　father　and　brother；　he　had　always　felt　great　affection　toward　her。　That　was　not　yet　gone；　but　it　was　hard　not　to　feel　betrayed　by　her　treatment　of　him；　no　matter　how　well　he　thought　he　understood　its　cause。　Still；　he　could　not　bring　himself　to　hate　her。　He　had　been　a　special　friend　to　her　since　she　had　been　a　little　girl；　making　a　point　of　speaking　with　her　whenever　he　was　at　court；　letting　her　show　him　the　Taig's　gardens；　as　well　as　the　pigs　and　chickens　to　which　she　gave　names；　and　which　she　treated　with　the　same　annoyed　fondness　a　mother　might　show　her　reckless　children。
　　As　she　grew；　being　as　tall　as　a　man…but　none　the　less　ely　for　it…Eolair　had　watched　her　also　bee　steadily　more　reserved；　only　occasionally　showing　the　flashes　of　girhshness　which　had　so　delighted　him　before。　She　seemed　to　turn　inward；　like　a　rosebush　balked　by　an　overhanging　roof　that　coiled　in　on　itself　until　its　own　thorns　rubbed　its　stems　raw。　She　still　reserved　special　attention　for　Eolair；　but　that　attention　was　more　and　more　confusing；　more　and　more　made　up　of　awkward　silences　and　her　angry　self…recriminations。
　　For　a　while　he　had　thought　she　cared　for　him　as　more　than　just　a　friend　of　her　family　and　distant　kinsman。　He　had　wondered　whether　two　such　solitary　folk　could　ever　find　their　way　together…Eolair；　for　all　his　easy　speech　and　cleverness；　had　always　felt　that　the　best　part　of　himself　was　hidden　far　beneath　the　surface；　just　as　his　quiet　hill…keep　at　Nad　Mullach　stood　remote　from　the　bustle　of　the　Taig。　But　even　as　he　had　finally　begun　to　think　in　earnest　about　Maegwin…even　as　his　admiration　for　her　honesty　and　for　her　impatience　with　nonsense　had　begun　to　ripen　into　something　deeper…she　had　turned　cold　to　him。　She　seemed　to　have　decided　that　Eolair　was　only　another　of　the　legion　of　idlers　and　flatterers　that　surrounded　King　Lluth。
　　One　long　afternoon　in　eastern　Utanyeat；　as　the　snow　stung　his　face　and　he　wandered　far　away　in　thought；　he　suddenly　wondered。　Was　I　wrong？　Did　she　care　for　me　all　that　time？　It　was　a　horrifying　thought；　because　it　suddenly　turned　the　world　he　knew　on　its　head　and　gave　vastly　different　meaning　to　everything　that　had　transpired　between　them　since　Maegwin　had　bee　a　woman。
　　Have　I　been　blind？　But　if　that　were　so；　why　should　she　act　so　backwardly　to　me？　Have　I　not　always　treated　her　with　respect　and　kindness？
　　After　turning　the　idea　over　in　his　head　for　a　long　hour；　he　put　it　away　again。　It　was　too　unfortable　to　consider　any　longer　here　in　the　middle　of　nowhere；　with　months　or　more　between　now　and　when　he　could　see　her　again。
　　And　she　had　sent　him　away　in　anger；　had　she　not？
　　The　wind　picked　restlessly　at　the　unsettled　snow。
　　
　　He　rode　past　Ach　Samrath　on　a　morning　when　the　storm　had　abated　some