df.therunelords-第13部分

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　Gaborn's　heart　pounded；　he　looked　at　Borenson；　who　was　suddenly　wary。　There　were　no　flameweavers　like　this　in　the　northern　kingdoms；　nor　so　many　Frowth　giants。　They　could　only　have　e　from　the　south。　Gaborn　tasted　the　air　again。　That　fog；　that　strange　fog；　a　thinly　disguised　smoke？　Raised　by　the　flameweavers？　How　big　an　army　did　it　hide？
　So　our　spies　were　wrong；　Gaborn　realized。　Raj　Ahten's　invasion　won't　wait　for　spring。
　The　flameweavers'　footsteps　led　north；　along　the　banks　of　the　River　Dwindell。　Raj　Ahten's　troops　must　be　marching　through　the　woods；　to　hide　their　numbers。　But　they　would　not　go　far　into　the　wood；　for　this　was　the　Dunnwood。　Wild；　old；　and　powerful。　Few　men　dared　enter　its　heart。　Even　Raj　Ahten　would　not　do　so。
　If　Gaborn　took　the　road　north；　he　could　reach　Sylvarresta　in　half　a　day。
　But　of　course　that　was　why　the　assassins　watched　the　road；　looking　to　waylay　anyone　who　sought　to　warn　King　Sylvarresta。　Gaborn　reasoned　that　given　the　nature　of　his　horse；　a　good　solid　hunter；　he　might　be　safer　riding　through　the　woods。　He　knew　the　dangers。　He'd　been　in　the　Dunnwood　before；　hunting　the　great　black　boars。
　The　giant　boars　in　the　wood　often　grew　almost　as　tall　as　Gaborn's　stallion；　and　over　the　centuries　they　had　learned　to　attack　riders。　But　there　were　more　dangerous　things　in　these　woods；　it　was　saidancient　duskin　ruins　still　guarded　by　magic；　and　the　spirits　of　those　who'd　died　here。　Gaborn　had　once　seen　such　a　spirit。
　Raj　Ahten's　men　would　be　on　warhorses；　heavy　creatures　bred　for　battle　in　the　desert；　not　for　speed　in　the　woods。
　But　even　riding　fast　through　the　woods；　it　would　take　Gaborn　a　day　to　reach　Lord　Sylvarresta。　Such　a　journey　would　be　hard　on　his　stallion。
　Meanwhile；　Gaborn's　own　father　was　not　far　south。　King　Orden　was　ing　north　for　the　autumn　hunt；　as　was　his　custom；　and　this　time　he　had　a　pany　of　over　two　thousand　soldiers。　Gaborn　was　to　have　formally　proposed　betrothal　to　Iome　Sylvarresta　in　a　week；　and　King　Orden　had　brought　an　impressive　retinue　for　his　son。
　Now　those　troops　might　well　be　needed　in　battle。
　Gaborn　raised　his　hand；　manipulated　his　fingers　quickly　in　battle　sign。　Retreat。　Warn　King　Orden。
　Borenson　looked　wary；　signed；　Where　are　you　going？
　To　warn　Sylvarresta。
　No！　Dangerous！　Borenson　signed。　Let　me　go！
　Gaborn　shook　his　head；　pointed　south。
　Borenson　glared；　signed；　I'll　go　north。　Too　dangerous　for　you！
　But　Gaborn　could　not　let　him。　He'd　intended　to　take　a　dangerous　road　to　power；　to　try　to　bee　the　kind　of　lord　who　would　win　men's　hearts。　How　better　to　win　the　hearts　of　the　people　of　Heredon；　than　to　e　to　their　aid　now？　I　must　go；　Gaborn　signed　forcefully。
　Borenson　began　to　argue　again。　Gaborn　whipped　out　his　own　saber；　aiming　just　so；　slashing　Borenson's　cheek。　The　cut　was　so　shallow；　the　soldier　could　have　got　it　shaving。
　Gaborn　fought　down　his　rage。　Almost　immediately　he　regretted　this　impetuous　act。　Yet　Borenson　knew　better　than　to　argue　with　his　prince　in　a　dangerous　situation。　Arguments　were　poison。　A　man　who　believes　he　is　doomed　to　fail　tends　to　fail。　Gaborn　would　listen　to　no　poison　arguments。
　Gaborn　pointed　south　with　his　sword；　looked　at　both　the　Days　and　Borenson　meaningfully。　With　his　free　hand；　he　signed；　Check　on　Myrrima。　If　Raj　Ahten's　troops　slaughtered　peasants　just　to　make　certain　their　force　wasn't　discovered；　Myrrima　would　be　in　danger。
　It　seemed　a　long　moment　as　Borenson　considered。　Gaborn　was　no　moner。　With　his　endowments　of　wit　and　brawn；　he　acted　more　like　a　man　than　he　did　a　child；　and　in　the　past　year；　Borenson　had　begun　treating　him　as　an　equal；　rather　than　as　a　charge。
　Perhaps　more　to　the　point；　Borenson　himself　had　to　be　torn。　Both　King　Orden　and　King　Sylvarresta　needed　to　be　warned　as　soon　as　possible。　He　couldn't　ride　two　directions　at　once。
　There　are　assassins　on　the　road；　Gaborn　reminded　him。　The　woods　are　safer。　I　will　be　safe。
　To　Gaborn's　surprise；　the　Days　turned　his　mule；　headed　back。　Gaborn　had　seldom　been　free　of　the　historian's　scrutiny。　But　the　Days'　mule　couldn't　keep　up　with　a　force　stallion。　If　he　tried　to　follow；　the　historian　would　only　get　killed。
　Borenson　reached　behind　his　saddle；　pulled　his　bow　and　quiver；　backed　his　horse；　and　handed　the　weapons　to　Gaborn。　He　whispered；　〃May　the　Glories　guide　you　safely。〃
　Gaborn　would　need　the　bow。　He　nodded；　grateful。
　When　the　men　had　disappeared　through　the　mist；　Gaborn　licked　his　lips；　his　mouth　dry　with　fear。　Preparedness　is　the　father　of　courage；　he　reminded　himself。　A　teaching　from　the　Room　of　the　Heart。　Yet　suddenly　all　that　he'd　learned　in　the　House　of　Understanding　seemed。。。inadequate。
　He　prepared　to　fight。　First　he　dismounted；　removed　his　fancy　feathered　hat；　tossed　it　to　the　ground。　It　wouldn't　do　to　ride　ahead　looking　like　a　wealthy　merchant。　He　needed　to　seem　a　humble　peasant；　without　benefit　of　endowments。
　He　reached　into　his　saddlebags；　drew　out　a　stained　cloak　of　gray；　threw　it　over　his　shoulders。　He　strung　the　bow。　He　had　no　battle…axe　to　cut　through　armoronly　his　dueling　saber；　and　the　dirk　strapped　at　his　knee。
　Gaborn　stretched　his　arms　and　shoulders；　limbering　them。　He　slid　his　saber　from　its　sheath；　as　familiar　with　its　balance　as　if　it　were　part　of　his　own　body；　then　slid　it　back　carefully。
　He　couldn't　disguise　his　horse。　The　beast　stood　too　proudly；　like　a　being　of　stone　or　iron　e　to　life。　Its　eyes　glowed　with　fierce　intelligence。
　Gaborn　whispered　in　his　horse's　ear。　〃We　must　hurry；　my　friend；　but　travel　quietly。〃
　The　horse　nodded。　Gaborn　couldn't　be　certain　how　much　it　understood。　It　couldn't　follow　a　conversation。　But　with　endowments　of　wit　from　other　horses　in　its　herd；　it　followed　several　simple　verbal　mandswhich　was　more　than　could　be　said　of　some　men。
　Gaborn　dared　not　ride　the　beast　at　first。　Instead；　he　led　it。　There　would　be　outriders；　he　knew；　both　behind　and　before　Raj　Ahten's　army。　Gaborn　didn't　want　to　be　a　silhouette　in　the　fog　for　some　archer　to　practice　on。
　He　began　running　lightly　at　a　pace　he　could　keep　up　for　days。　In　the　unnatural　fog；　the　fields　were　strangely　quiet。
　Field　mice　scurried　from　his　approach；　a　lone　crow　cawed　from　an　oak。　Sparrows　flew　up　in　a　cloud。　Somewhere；　in　the　forest；　he　could　hear　a　cow　lowing；　wanting　to　be　milked。
　For　a　long　time　as　he　ran；　there　was　only　the　dry　rattle　of　bending　grass；　the　muted　thump　of　his　horse's　hooves。
　As　he　sprinted　north　through　the　close…cropped　fields；　he　made　a　personal　inventory。　As　far　as　Runelords　were　concerned；　he　was　not　powerful。　He'd　never　wanted　to　be　so。　He　could　not　bear　the　guilt　he'd　have　borne　to　bee　powerful；　the　cost　in　human　suffering。
　But　shortly　after　birth；　his　father　had　begun　purchasing　endowments　for　him：　two　endowments　of　wit；　two　of　brawn；　three　of　stamina；　and　three　of　grace。　He　had　the　eyes　of　two；　the　ears　of　three。　Five　endowments　of　voice；　two　of　glamour。
　Not　a　powerful　man。　A　weakling　pared　to　Raj　Ahten's　〃Invincibles。〃　He　had　no　endowment　of　metabolism。　Gaborn　wore　no　armor。　None　to　protect　him；　none　to　slow　him　down。
　No；　Gaborn　could　rely　only　on　cunning；　courage；　and　the　speed　of　his　stallion。
　Gaborn　passed　two　more　houses；　both　with　dead　occupants。　At　the　first；　he　stopped　at　a　garden；　let　the　horse　eat　apples　from　a　tree；　pocketed　a　few　for　himself。
　A　little　beyond　the　last　house；　the　fields　ended　at　a　forest　of　ash；　oak；　and　maple。　The　border　to　the　Dunnwood。　The　leaves　on　the　trees　were　dull；　as　they　will　get　in　late　summer；　but　so　low　in　the　valleys　the　colors　had　not　yet　turned。
　Following　the　edge　of　the　field；　Gaborn　smelled　the　scent　of　leather　now；　of　horses　hard…ridden；　of　oiled　armor。　Still　he'd　seen　no　one。
　Gaborn　found　a　track　for　woodcutters'　carts　leading　into　the　forest。　He　stopped　at　the　edge　of　the　trees　to　tighten　the　cinch　on　his　saddle；　preparing　to　ride　hard；　when　he　suddenly　heard　the　creaking　of　branches。
　Just　inside　the　line　of　trees；　not　forty　feet　away；　stood　a　Frowth　giant。　The　huge　creature；　its　fur　a　tawny　yellow；　stared　at　him　from　wide　silver　eyes；　peering　into　the　mist；　perhaps　unsure　whether　Gaborn　was　friend　or　foe。　The　sun　slanted　over　the　woods；　sending　shafts　of　golden　light　into　the　giant's　face。
　The　giant　stood　twenty　feet　tall；　eight　feet　wide　at　the　shoulder。　Ring　mail　covered　its　thick　hide；　for　a　weapon　it　carried　a　large　oak　pole　bound　with　iron　rings。　Its　snout　was　much　longer　than　that　of　a　horse；　its　mouth　full　of　sharp　teeth。　The　Frowth　giants　looked　like　nothing　human。
　The　giant　flicked　one　small；　round　ear；　ridding　itself　of　some　stinging　fly；　then　pushed　a　tree　aside　as　it　leaned　forward；　peering。
　Gaborn　knew　enough　not　to　make　a　quick　move。　If　he　did；　the　giant　would　know　he　was　an　enemy。　The　fact　that　the　giant　hadn't　attacked　already　told　Gabon　something：　the　outriders　would　be　dressed　like　him；　wearing　dark　robes；　riding　force　horses。
　The　giant　merely　wanted　to　smell　Gaborn；　to　learn　whether　he　was　friend　or　foe。　Gaborn　would　not　smell　of　curry；　olive　oil；　and　cotton；　as　did　the　soldiers　in　Raj　Ahten's　forces。
　One　way　or　another；　the　Frowth　giant　would　be　after　Gaborn　in　a　moment。
　Gaborn　wanted　to　strike；　but　he　couldn't　drive　a　sword　through　such　thick　ring　mail。　He　couldn't　engage　the　monster　in　a　drawn　battle。　Couldn't　let　it　cry　out　in　warning。　An　arrow　wouldn't　kill　the　beast　quickly。
　No；　Gaborn's　best　chance　was　to　let　the　giant　draw　close；　bend　near　enough　to　sniff　him；　so　that　Gaborn　could　pull　his　saber　and　slice　the　monster's　throat。　Quickly；　quietly。
　〃Friend；〃　Gaborn　said　softly；　reassuringly。　He　dropped　the　horse's　reins　as　the　giant　approached；　dropped　his　bow。　The　giant　warily　leaned　on　his　pole；　hunched　forward；　sniffed　from　ten　feet　away。　Far；　too　far。
　It　drew　a　foot　closer；　sniffed　again。　Frowth　giants　do　not　have　keen　noses。　The　monster　must　have　been　two　feet　between　the　eyes。　Its　broad　nose　wrinkled　as　it　sniffed。
　Gabon　smelled　rotting　meat　on　its　breath；　saw　dried　blood　matted　into　its　fur。　It　had　fed　on　carrion　recently。
　It　drew　half　a　step　closer。　Gaborn　ambled　forward；　making　soft　noises　as　if　he　were　a　friendly　soldier　trying　to　prove　himself。
　The　size　of　the　beast　overwhelmed　him。　I　am　nothing　beside　it。　Nothing。　It　could　lift　me　like　a　pu