rj.acrownofswords-第11部分

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umbled　and　fell；　pitching　her　over　its　head。
　　　He　cursed；　then　again　when　the　looking　glass　showed　him　an　arrow　standing　up　from　the　black's　side。　Hastily　he　scanned　the　hills；　and　bit　down　on　another　curse；　maybe　two　dozen　veiled　Aiel　stood　on　a　crest　staring　toward　downed　horse　and　rider；　less　than　a　hundred　paces　from　the　Aes　Sedai。　Quickly　he　glanced　back。　The　sister　rose　unsteadily　to　her　feet。　If　she　kept　her　wits　and　used　the　Power；　there　should　be　no　way　a　few　Aiel　could　harm　her；　especially　if　she　took　shelter　against　more　arrows　behind　the　fallen　horse。　Even　so；　he　would　feel　better　when　he　had　gathered　her　in。　Rolling　away　from　the　crest　to　lessen　the　chances　of　the　Aiel　seeing　him；　he　slid　down　the　reverse　slope　until　he　could　stand。
　　　He　had　brought　five　hundred　and　eighty…one　Younglings　south；　almost　every　one　who　was　far　enough　along　in　training　to　leave　Tar　Valon；　but　fewer　than　two　hundred　waited　on　their　horses　in　the　hollow。　Before　disaster　struck　at　Dumai's　Wells；　he　was　certain　there　had　been　a　plot　afoot　to　see　that　he　and　the　Younglings　died　without　returning　to　the　White　Tower。　Why；　he　did　not　know；　nor　whether　the　scheme　came　from　Elaida　or　Galina；　but　it　had　succeeded　well　enough；　if　not　exactly　in　the　way　its　devisers　had　thought。　Small　wonder　that　he　would　have　preferred　to　go　on　without　Aes　Sedai；　had　he　any　choice。
　　　He　stopped　beside　a　tall　gray　gelding　with　a　young　rider。　Young；　as　indeed　all　the　Younglings　were　…　many　did　not　need　to　shave　beyond　every　third　day；　and　a　few　still　only　pretended　even　that　…　but　Jisao　wore　the　silver　tower　on　his　collar；　marking　him　a　veteran　of　the　fighting　when　Siuan　Sanche　was　deposed；　and　scars　beneath　his　clothes　from　fighting　since。　He　was　one　of　those　who　could　skip　the　razor　most　mornings；　his　dark　eyes　belonged　to　a　man　thirty　years　older；　though。　What　did　his　own　eyes　look　like；　Gawyn　wondered。
　　　〃Jisao；　we　have　a　sister　to　pull　out　of　the　…　〃
　　　The　hundred　or　so　Aiel　who　came　trotting　over　the　low　rise　to　the　west　recoiled　in　surprise　at　finding　the　Younglings　below；　but　neither　surprise　nor　the　Younglings'　superior　numbers　held　them　back。　In　a　flash　they　veiled　and　plunged　down　the　slope；　darting　in　with　spears　stabbing　at　horses　as　often　as　riders；　working　in　pairs。　Yet　if　the　Aiel　knew　how　to　fight　men　on　horseback；　the　Younglings　had　recently　had　rough　lessons　in　how　to　fight　Aiel；　and　slow　learners　did　not　live　long　in　their　ranks。　Some　carried　slender　lances；　ending　in　a　foot　and　a　half　of　steel　with　a　crossguard　to　prevent　the　head　penetrating　too　deeply；　and　all　could　use　their　swords　as　well　as　any　but　a　blademaster。　They　fought　in　twos　and　threes；　each　man　watching　another's　back；　keeping　their　mounts　moving　so　the　Aiel　could　not　hamstring　the　animals。　Only　the　quickest　Aiel　managed　to　get　inside　those　circles　of　flashing　steel。　The　war…trained　horses　themselves　were　weapons；　splitting　skulls　with　their　hooves；　seizing　men　with　their　teeth　and　shaking　them　like　dogs　worrying　rats；　jaws　tearing　away　half　a　man's　face。　The　horses　screamed　as　they　fought；　and　men　grunted　with　effort；　shouted　with　the　fever　that　overtook　men　in　battle；　the　fever　that　said　they　were　alive　and　would　live　to　see　another　sunrise　if　they　had　to　wade　waist…deep　in　blood。　They　shouted　as　they　killed；　shouted　as　they　died；　there　seemed　little　difference。
　　　Gawyn　had　no　time　to　watch　or　listen；　though。　The　only　Youngling　afoot；　he　attracted　attention。　Three　cadin'sor…clad　figures　dodged　through　the　horsemen；　rushing　at　him　with　spears　ready。　Perhaps　they　thought　him　easy　meat；　three　on　one。　He　disabused　them。　His　sword　left　the　scabbard　smoothly；　as　smoothly　as　he　flowed　from　The　Falcon　Stoops　to　The　Creeper　Embraces　the　Oak　to　The　Moon　Rises　Over　the　Lakes。　Three　times　he　felt　the　shock　in　his　wrists　of　blade　meeting　flesh；　and　that　quickly　three　veiled　Aielmen　were　down；　two　still　moving　weakly；　but　they　were　out　of　the　fight　as　much　as　the　other。　The　next　to　confront　him　was　a　different　matter。
　　　A　lean　fellow；　overtopping　Gawyn　by　a　hand；　he　moved　like　a　snake；　spear　flickering　while　his　buckler　darted　and　slanted　to　deflect　sword　strokes　with　a　force　Gawyn　could　feel　to　his　shoulders。　The　Wood　Grouse　Dances　became　Folding　the　Air　became　The　Courtier　Taps　His　Fan；　and　the　Aielman　met　each　of　them　at　the　cost　of　a　slash　along　his　ribs；　while　Gawyn　took　a　gash　on　his　thigh　that　only　a　quick　twist　kept　from　being　a　stab　clean　through。
　　　They　circled　one　another；　oblivious　to　whatever　happened　around　them。　Blood　oozed　hot　down　Gawyn's　leg。　The　Aielman　feinted；　hoping　to　draw　him　off　balance；　feinted　again；　Gawyn　shifted　from　stance　to　stance；　sword　now　high；　now　low；　hoping　the　man　would　extend　one　of　those　half…thrusts　just　a　little　too　far。
　　　In　the　end；　it　was　chance　that　decided　matters。　The　Aielman　abruptly　stumbled　a　step；　and　Gawyn　ran　him　through　the　heart　before　he　even　saw　the　horse　that　had　backed　into　the　man。
　　　Once　he　would　have　felt　regret；　he　had　grown　up　believing　that　if　two　men　must　fight；　the　duel　should　proceed　honorably　and　cleanly。　More　than　half　a　year　of　battles　and　skirmishes　had　taught　him　better。　He　put　a　foot　on　the　Aielman's　chest　and　wrenched　his　blade　free。　Ungallant；　but　fast；　and　in　battle；　slow　was　often　dead。
　　　Only；　when　his　sword　was　free；　there　was　no　need　for　speed。　Men　were　down；　Younglings　and　Aielmen；　some　groaning；　some　still；　and　the　rest　of　the　Aiel　streaming　away　to　the　east；　harried　by　two　dozen　Younglings；　including　some　who　should　know　better。　〃Hold！〃　he　shouted。　If　the　idiots　allowed　themselves　to　bee　separated；　the　Aiel　would　cut　them　to　dogmeat。　〃No　pursuit！　Hold；　I　said！　Hold；　burn　you！〃　The　Younglings　pulled　up　reluctantly。
　　　Jisao　reined　his　gelding　around。　〃They　just　thought　to　cut　a　path　through　us　on　the　way　wherever　they're　going；　my　Lord。〃　His　sword　dripped　red　from　half　its　length。
　　　Gawyn　caught　the　reins　of　his　own　bay　stallion　and　swung　into　the　saddle；　not　waiting　to　clean　or　sheath　his　blade。　No　time　to　see　who　was　dead；　who　might　live。　〃Forget　them。　That　sister　is　waiting　for　us。　Hal；　keep　your　half…troop　to　look　after　the　wounded。　And　watch　those　Aiel；　just　because　they're　dying　doesn't　mean　they　have　quit。　The　rest；　follow　me。〃　Hal　saluted　with　his　sword；　but　Gawyn　was　already　digging　in　his　spurs。
　　　The　skirmish　had　not　lasted　long；　yet　too　long　however　short。　When　Gawyn　reached　the　crest；　only　the　dead　horse　was　to　be　seen；　its　saddlebags　turned　out。　Scanning　through　his　looking　glass　revealed　not　a　sign　of　the　sister；　the　Aiel　or　anything　else　living。　All　that　moved　was　windblown　dust　and　a　dress　on　the　ground　near　the　horse；　stirring　in　the　gusts。　The　woman　must　have　sprinted　to　be　so　pletely　out　of　sight　so　quickly。
　　　〃She　can't　have　gone　far；　even　running；〃　Jisao　said。　〃We　can　find　her　if　we　fan　out。〃
　　　〃We'll　search　after　we　see　to　the　wounded；〃　Gawyn　replied　firmly。　He　was　not　about　to　split　up　his　men　with　Aiel　roaming　loose。　Only　a　few　hours　yet　till　sunset；　and　he　wanted　a　tight　camp　on　high　ground　before　then。　It　might　be　as　well　if　he　did　manage　to　find　a　sister　or　two；　someone　was　going　to　have　to　explain　this　catastrophe　to　Elaida；　and　he　would　as　soon　it　was　an　Aes　Sedai　facing　her　wrath；　not　him。
　　　Turning　his　bay　with　a　sigh；　he　rode　back　down　to　see　what　the　butcher's　bill　had　been　this　time。　That　had　been　his　first　real　lesson　as　a　soldier。　You　always　had　to　pay　the　butcher。　He　had　a　feeling　there　would　be　bigger　bills　due　soon。　The　world　would　forget　Dumai's　Wells　in　what　was　ing。
　　　
　　　
Chapter　1　
（Wolf）
High　Chasaline　
　　　
　　　The　Wheel　of　Time　turns；　and　Ages　e　and　pass；　leaving　memories　that　bee　legend。　Legend　fades　to　myth；　and　even　myth　is　long　forgotten　when　the　Age　that　gave　it　birth　es　again。　In　one　Age；　called　the　Third　Age　by　some；　an　Age　yet　to　e；　an　Age　long　past；　a　wind　rose　in　the　great　forest　called　Braem　Wood。　The　wind　was　not　the　beginning。　There　are　neither　beginnings　nor　endings　to　the　turning　of　the　Wheel　of　Time。　But　it　was　a　beginning。
　　　North　and　east　the　wind　blew　as　the　searing　sun　rose　higher　in　a　cloudless　sky；　north　and　east　through　parched　trees　with　brown　leaves　and　bare　branches；　through　scattered　villages　where　the　air　shimmered　from　the　heat。　The　wind　brought　no　relief；　no　hint　of　rain；　much　less　snow。　North　and　east　it　blew；　past　an　ancient　arch　of　finely　worked　stone　that　some　said　had　been　a　gateway　to　a　great　city　and　others　a　monument　to　some　long　forgotten　battle。　Only　weathered；　illegible　remnants　of　carving　remained　on　the　massive　stones；　mutely　recalling　the　lost　glories　of　storied　Coremanda。　A　few　wagons　trundled　by　in　sight　of　the　arch；　along　the　Tar　Valon　Road；　and　folk　afoot　shielded　their　eyes　from　dust　raised　by　hooves　and　wagon　wheels　and　driven　by　the　wind。　Most　had　no　idea　where　they　were　going；　only　that　the　world　seemed　to　turn　somersaults；　all　order　ending　where　it　was　not　gone　already。　Fear　drove　some　on；　while　others　were　drawn　by　something　they　could　not　quite　see　and　did　not　understand；　and　most　of　them　were　afraid；　too。
　　　Onward　the　wind　traveled；　across　the　gray…green　River　Erinin；　heeling　ships　that　still　carried　trade　north　and　south；　for　there　had　to　be　trade　even　in　these　days；　though　none　could　be　sure　where　it　was　safe　to　trade。　East　of　the　river；　the　forests　began　to　thin；　giving　way　eventually　to　low　rolling　hills　covered　in　brown；　tinder…dry　grass　and　dotted　sparsely　with　small　clumps　of　trees。　Atop　one　of　those　hills　stood　a　circle　of　wagons；　many　with　the　canvas　scorched　or　else　pletely　burned　away　from　the　iron　hoops。　On　a　makeshift　flagstaff；　trimmed　from　a　young　tree　dead　in　the　drought　and　lashed　to　a　bare　wagon　hoop　for　more　height；　waved　a　crimson　banner；　a　black…and…white　disc　in　its　heart。　The　Banner　of　Light；　some　called　it；　or　al'Thor's　Banner。　Others　had　darker　names；　and　shivered　as　they　spoke　them　in　whispers。　The　wind　shook　the　banner　hard　and　was　gone　quickly；　as　if　glad　to　be　away。
　　　Perrin　Aybara　sat　on　the　ground　with　his　broad　back　against　a　wagon　wheel；　wishing　the　wind　lingered。　It　had　been　cooler　for　a　moment。　And　the　wind　from　the　south　had　cleared　the　scent　of　death　from　his　nostrils；　a　s