srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第50部分

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od　toward　the　south　ford。
　He　was　looking　forward　to　this　war。　He　wanted　to　get　to　it　in　a　hurry。
　
　
　SIXTEEN：　Forced　March
　
　YET　even　in　this　mood；　he　could　not　cross　the　ford　of　the　Rill　out　of　Trothgard　without　regret。　He　loved　the　sun…bright　beauty　of　Revelwood；　the　unplex　friendship　of　the　Lorewardens；　he　did　not　want　to　lose　them。　But　he　did　not　look　back。　He　could　not　understand　why　Elena　had　repudiated　Trell　Atiaran…mate's　just　rage　and　grief。　And　he　sensed　now；　in　a　way　more　fundamental　than　he　had　ever　seen　it　before；　that　he　would　have　to　prove　himself　in　this　war。　He　would　have　to　prove　that　he　was　the　fruit　of　hope；　not　of　despair。
　He　would　have　to　win。
　If　he　did　not；　then　he　was　more　than　a　failure；　he　was　an　active　evil…a　piece　of　treachery　perpetrated　against　the　Land　in　defiance　of　his　own　love　or　volition…worse　than　Covenant；　for　Covenant　at　least　tried　to　avoid　the　lie　of　being　trusted。　But　he；　Hile　Troy；　had　deliberately　sought　trust；　responsibility；　mand
　No；　that　thought　was　intolerable。　He　had　to　win；　had　to　win。
　When　he　had　passed　the　crest　of　the　south　hill；　he　slowed　Mehryl　to　a　better　traveling　pace；　and　allowed　Lord　Mhoram　and　the　remaining　eighteen　Bloodguard　to　catch　up　with　him。　Then　he　said　through　his　teeth；　biting　down　on　his　voice　to　avoid　accusing　Mhoram；　〃Why　is　she　taking　him？　He　raped　Trell's　daughter。〃
　Mhoram　responded　gently；　〃Warmark　Troy；　my　friend；　you　must　understand　that　the　High　Lord　has　little　choice。　The　way　of　her　duty　is　narrow；　and　beset　with　perils。　She　must　seek　out　the　Seventh　Ward。　And　she　must　take　ur…Lord　Covenant　with　her…because　of　the　white　gold。　With　the　Staff　of　Law；　she　must　ensure　that　his　ring　does　not　fall　into　Lord　Foul's　hands。　And　if　he　turns　against　the　Land；　she　must　be　near　him　…to　fight　him。〃
　Troy　nodded　to　himself。　That　was　reasoning　he　could　prehend。　Abruptly；　he　shook　himself；　forced　down　his　instinctive　protest。　With　an　effort；　he　unclenched　his　teeth；　and　sighed；　〃I'll　tell　you　something；　Mhoram。　When　I'm　done　with　this　war…when　I　can　look　back　and　tell　myself　that　poor　Atiaran　is　satisfied　…I'm　going　to　take　a　vacation　for　a　few　years。　I'm　going　to　sit　down　in　Andelain　and　not　move　a　muscle　until　I　get　to　see　the　Celebration　of　Spring。　Otherwise　I'm　never　going　to　be　able　to　forgive　that　damn　Covenant　for　being　luckier　than　I　am。〃　But　he　meant　luckier　in　another　way。　Though　he　realized　now　that　no　other　choice　was　possible；　he　ached　to　think　that　Elena　had　chosen　Covenant；　not　him。
　If　Mhoram　understood　him；　however；　the　Lord　tactfully　followed　what　he　had　said　rather　than　what　he　meant。　〃Ah；　if　we　are　victorious〃…Mhorann　was　smiling；　but　his　tone　was　serious…〃you　will　not　be
　alone。　Half　the　Land　will　be　in　Andelain　when　next　the　dark　of　the　moon　falls　on　the　middle　night　of　spring。　Few　who　yet　live　have　seen　the　Dance　of　the　Wraiths　of　Andelain。〃
　〃Well；　I'm　going　to　get　there　first；〃　Troy　muttered；　trying　to　sustain　this　conversation。　But　then　he　could　not　keep　himself　from　reverting　to　the　subject　of　the　Unbeliever。　〃Mhoram；　don't　you　resent　him？　After　what　he's　done？〃
　Evenly　and　openly；　Lord　Mhoram　said；　〃I　have　no　special　virtue　to　make　me　resent　him。　One　must　have　strength　in　order　to　judge　the　weakness　of　others。　I　am　not　so　mighty。〃
　This　answer　surprised　Troy。　For　a　moment；　he　stared　at　Mhoram；　asking　silently；　Is　that　true？　Do　you　believe　that？　But　he　could　see　that　Mhoram　did　believe　it。　Baffled；　Troy　turned　away。
　Surrounded　by　the　Bloodguard；　he　and　Lord　Mhoram　followed　a　curve　through　the　hills　that　took　them　generally　east　southeast　to　intercept　the　Warward。
　As　the　day　passed；　Troy　was　able　to　turn　his　thoughts　more　and　more　toward　his　marching　army。　Questions　began　to　crowd　his　mind。　Were　the　villages　along　the　march　able　to　provide　enough　food　for　the　warriors？　Was　First　Haft　Amorine　able　to　keep　up　the　pace？　Such　concerns　enabled　him　to　put　aside　his　foreboding；　his　aching　sense　of　loss。　He　became　another　man…less　the　blind　uncertain　stranger　to　the　Land；　and　more　the　Warmark　of　the　Warward　of　Lord's　Keep。
　The　change　steadied　him。　He　felt　more　fortable　with　this　aspect　of　himself。
　He　wanted　to　hurry；　but　he　resisted　the　temptation　because　he　wanted　to　make　this　part　of　the　journey　as　easy　as　possible　for　the　Ranyhyn。　Still；　by　the　end　of　that　day；　the　eighth　since　he　had　left　Revelstone；　he；　Lord　Mhoram；　and　the　Bloodguard　had　left　behind　the　reblooming　health　of　Trothgard。　Even　at　a　pace　which　covered　no　more　than　seventeen　leagues　in　a　day；　the　land　through　which　they　rode　changed　rapidly。　East　and　southeast　of　them　was　the　more　austere
　country　of　the　Center　Plains。　In　this　wide　region　the　stern　rock　of　the　Earth　seemed　closer　to　the　surface　of　the　soil　than　in　Trothgard。　The　Plains　supported　life　without　encouraging　it；　sustained　people　who　were　tough；　hardy。
　Most　of　the　men　and　women　who　made　up　the　Warward　came　from　the　villages　of　the　Center　Plains。　This　was　traditionally　true…and　for　good　reason。　In　all　the　great　wars　of　the　Land；　the　Despiser's　armies　had　struck　through　the　Center　Plains　to　approach　Revelstone。　Thus　these　Plains　bore　much　of　the　brunt　of　Lord　Foul's　malice。　The　people　of　the　Plains　remembered　this；　and　sent　their　sons　and　daughters　to　the　Loresraat　to　be　trained　in　the　skills　of　the　Sword。
　As　he　made　camp　that　night；　Troy　was　intensely　conscious　of　how　personally　his　warriors　depended　on　him。　Their　homes　and　families　were　at　the　mercy　of　his　success　or　failure。　At　his　mand　they　were　enduring　the　slow　hell　of　this　forced　march。
　And　he　knew　that　the　war　would　begin　within　the　next　day。　By　that　time；　the　vanguard　of　Lord　Foul's　army　would　reach　the　western　end　of　the　Mithil　valley；　and　would　encounter　Hiltmark　Quaan　and　the　Lords　Callindrill　and　Verement。　He　was　sure　of　it；　no　later　than　the　evening　of　the　ninth　day。　Then　men　and　women　would　begin　to　die…his　warriors。　Bloodguard　would　begin　to　die。　He　wanted　to　be　with　them；　wanted　to　keep　them　alive；　but　he　could　not。　And　the　march　to　Doom's　Retreat　would　go　on　and　on　and　on；　grinding　down　the　Warward　like　the　millstone　of　an　unanswerable　need。　Soon　Troy　stretched　himself　out　in　his　blankets　and　pressed　his　face　against　the　earth　as　if　that　were　the　only　way　he　could　keep　his　balance。
　He　spent　most　of　the　night　reviewing　every　facet　of　his　battle　plan；　trying　to　assure　himself　that　he　had　not　made　any　mistakes。
　The　next　morning；　he　felt　full　of　urgency；　and　he　found　that　whenever　he　forgot　himself　he　began　to　hurry　Mehryl's　pace。　So　he　turned　to　Mhoram　and　asked　the　Lord　to　talk　to　him；　distract　him。
　In　response；　the　Lord　slowly　dropped　into　a　musing；　half…singing　tone；　and　began　to　tell　Troy　about　the
　various　legended　or　potent　parts　of　the　Land　which　lay　between　them　and　Doom's　Retreat。　In　particular；　he　narrated　some　of　the　old　tales　about　the　One　Forest；　the　mighty　wood　which　had　covered　the　Land　in　an　age　that　…was　ancient　before　Berek　Halfhand's　time；　with　its　Forestals　and　its　fierce　foes；　the　Ravers。　During　the　centuries　when　the　trees　were　still　awake；　he　said；　the　Forestals　had　cherished　their　consciousness　and　guided　their　defenses　against　turiya；　moksha；　and　samadhi。　But　now；　if　the　old　tales　spoke　truly；　no　active　remnant　or　vestige　of　the　One　Forest　and　the　Forestals　remained　in　the　Land；　except　the　grim　woods　of　Garroting　Deep　and　Caerroil　Wildwood。　And　none　who　entered　Garroting　Deep；　for　good　or　ill；　ever　returned。
　This　dark　forest　lay　near　the　line　of　the　Warward's　march；　beyond　the　Last　Hills。
　Then　Troy　talked　for　a　while　about　himself　and　his　reactions　to　the　Land。　He　felt　close　to　Mhoram；　and　this　enabled　him　to　discuss　the　way　High　Lord　Elena　personified　his　sense　of　the　Land。　Gradually；　he　relaxed；　regained　his　ability　to　say　to　himself；　It　doesn't　matter　who　summoned　me。　I　am　who　I　am。　I'm　going　to　do　it。
　So　he　was　not　just　surprised　when　he　and　Mhoram　caught　up　with　the　struggling　march　of　the　warriors　by　midafternoon。　He　was　shocked。
　The　Warward　was　almost　half　a　day's　march　behind　schedule。
　The　warriors　met　him　with　a　halting　cheer　that　stumbled　into　silence　as　they　realized　that　the　High　Lord　was　not　with　him。　But　Troy　ignored　them。　Riding　straight　up　to　First　Haft　Amorine；　he　barked；　〃You're　slow！　Speed　up　the　beat！　At　this　rate；　we're　going　to　be　exactly　one　and　a　half　days　too　late！〃
　The　wele　on　Amorine's　face　fell　into　chagrin；　and　she　whirled　away　at　once　toward　the　drummers。　With　a　wide；　sighing　groan　of　pain；　the　warriors　stepped　up　their　pace；　hurried　to　the　demand　of　the　drums　until　they　were　half　running。　Then　Warmark　Troy　rode　up　and　down　beside　their　ranks　like　a　flail；　enforcing　the　new　rhythm　with　his　angry　presence。
　When　he　found　one　Eoward　lagging　slightly；　he　shouted　into　the　young　drummer's　face；　〃By　God！　I'm　not　going　to　lose　this　war　because　of　you！〃　He　clapped　his　beat　by　the　shamed　Warhaft's　ear　until　the　drummer　copied　it　exactly。
　Only　after　his　dismay　had　subsided　did　he　observe　what　nine　days　of　hard　marching　had　done　to　the　Warward。　Then　he　wished　that　he　could　recant　his　harshness。　The　warriors　were　suffering　severely。　Almost　all　of　them　limped　in　some　way；　pushed　themselves　unevenly　against　the　nagging　pain　of　cuts　and　torn　muscles　and　bone　bruises。　Many　were　so　tired　that　they　had　stopped　sweating；　and　the　overheated　flush　of　their　faces　was　caked　with　dust；　giving　them　a　yellow　and　demented　look。　More　than　a　few　bled　at　the　shoulders　from　sores　worn　by　the　friction　of　their　pack　straps。　Despite　their　doggedness；　they　marched　raggedly；　as　if　they　could　hardly　remember　the　ranked　order　which　had　been　trained　into　them　ninety　leagues　ago　at　Revelstone。
　And　they　were　behind　schedule。　They　were　still　one　hundred　eighty　leagues　away　from　Doom's　Retreat。
　By　the　time　they　lurched　and　gasped　their　way　into　camp　for　the　night；　Troy　was　almost　frantic　for　some　way　to　save　them。　He　sensed　that　bare　determination　would　not　be　enough。
　As　soon　as　the　acpanying　Hirebrands　and　Gravelingases　had　started　their　campfires；　Lord　Mhoram　went　to　do　what　he　could　for　the　Warward。　He　moved　from　Eoward　to　Eoward；　helping　the　cooks。　In　each　stewpot；　his　blue　fire　worked　some　effect　on　4　the　food；　enhanced　it；　increased　its　health　and　v