df.therunelords-第15部分

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　Inside；　Ault　found　that　the　last　assassin　had　already　slaughtered　two　guards　posted　by　the　door；　then　had　run　into　the　hall；　felling　some　five　or　six　Dedicates　who　should　have　been　abed。　Even　now；　the　assassin　knelt　over　a　victim；　scimitar　in　hand。
　Ault　threw　his　short　sword；　caught　the　assassin　solidly　in　the　back。　Had　the　assassin　been　a　moner；　he'd　have　collapsed。　Had　he　been　an　angered　man　with　great　stamina；　he'd　have　turned　and　gone　berserk。
　What　the　assassin　did　next　chilled　Ault　to　the　bone。
　The　assassin　turned；　all　dressed　in　a　black　caftan　and　black　cotton　pants；　a　black　kerchief　hiding　his　face。　A　gold　ring　glittered　in　his　ear。
　He　studied　Ault　thoughtfully；　eyes　filled　with　deadly　intent。　Ault's　heart　pounded；　for　he　wondered　how　many　endowments　of　stamina　it　took　for　a　man　to　ignore　a　sword　in　his　back。
　A　dozen　soldiers　rushed　through　the　broken　door；　filling　the　Dedicates'　Keep。　Ault　took　a　hammer　from　a　dead　guard。
　The　assassin　looked　Captain　Ault　in　the　eye；　then　raised　his　hands。　He　said　in　a　thick　accent；　〃Barbarian：　As　you　see　this　tide　of　men　sweep　over　me；　so　shall　my　lord's　Invincibles　sweep　over　you！〃
　Raj　Ahten's　Invincibles　were　elite　troopsmen　with　great　stamina；　each　of　whom　had　at　least　one　endowment　of　metabolism。　The　assassin　made　as　if　to　charge。　Yet　Ault　knew　it　would　be　a　feint。　Having　won　through　to　the　Dedicates'　Keep；　the　assassin　would　now　continue　with　his　duty；　to　slay　as　many　Dedicates　as　possible。
　Ault　lunged；　swinging　his　hammer；　just　as　the　assassin　spun　toward　the　beds　of　the　sleeping。　The　warhammer　bit　into　the　assassin's　neck。
　〃Don't　bet　on　it；〃　Ault　said。
　In　his　keep；　King　Sylvarresta　felt　the　deaths　of　his　Dedicates　as　he　began　to　lose　his　magical　connection　to　them。　It　was　a　nauseating　sensation；　like　a　cold　snake　writhing　through　his　innards。　Men　who　had　endowed　him　with　wit　died；　and　Sylvarresta　was　assailed　by　a　sudden　emptiness　as　rooms　of　memory　closed　off　forever。
　He'd　never　know　what　he'd　lostmemories　of　friends　from　childhood　or　a　picnic　in　the　forest；　memories　of　important　sword　strokes　practiced　time　and　again　with　his　father；　or　a　perfect　sunset；　or　a　wife's　kiss。
　He　only　became　aware　that　he　was　sundered。　The　doors　to　the　rooms　of　memory　slammed　shut。　The　shutters　to　the　windows　fell。　And　in　his　mind　there　was　a　great　moment　of　darkness；　a　keen　sense　of　loss。
　As　he　rushed　downstairs　to　guard　his　Dedicates　himself　if　need　be；　he　felt　as　if　he　wallowed　through　the　darkness。
　A　minute　later；　Sylvarresta　reached　the　Dedicates'　Bailey；　counted　his　losses。　Ten　guards　dead；　five　wounded。　And　five　Dedicates　lost。
　In　studying　the　corpses　of　the　Muyyatin　assassins；　he　found　that　each　had　been　formidable。　Their　leader；　whom　Ault　had　slain；　had　over　seventy　runes　burned　into　his　flesh。　With　so　many　endowments；　he　had　to　have　been　a　captain　among　the　Invincibles。　Many　others　had　twenty　runes　or　more；　making　them　equal　to　Captain　Derrow。
　Five　of　Sylvarresta's　Dedicates　lay　dead。　Two　gentlemen　who　had　granted　Sylvarresta　wit；　two　who　had　granted　sight　to　the　King；　and　one　who　had　granted　sight　to　the　King's　far…seer。　Sylvarresta　imagined　that　the　blind　men　must　have　been　telling　stories　by　the　hearth；　and　the　sound　of　their　voices　had　brought　the　idiots　their　deaths。
　When　the　body　count　was　taken；　Sylvarresta　considered　himself　lucky。　It　could　have　been　worse。　If　the　assassins　had　made　it　farther　into　the　Dedicates'　Keep；　the　result　would　have　been　devastating。
　Yet　King　Sylvarresta　could　not　help　but　wonder　at　what　he'd　lost。　He'd　had　endowments　of　wit　from　five　men。　Now　he'd　lost　forty　percent　of　all　his　memories；　of　years　of　studies。　What　had　he　known　five　minutes　ago　that　he　might　need　to　remember　in　days　to　e。。。？
　He　considered　the　dead；　wondering。　Was　this　attack　a　precursor　to　next　year's　war？
　Had　Raj　Ahten　sent　assassins　to　attack　all　the　kings　of　the　North；　in　an　attempt　to　weaken　them？　Or　was　this　a　part　of　some　more　daring　scheme？
　Sylvarresta's　readings　in　the　Emir's　book　made　him　worry。　Raj　Ahten　seldom　bothered　with　feints。　Instead　he　singled　out　castles；　striking　with　ferocity；　overwhelming　his　opponents；　then　consolidated　his　position　before　moving　on。
　It　seemed　odd　to　Sylvarresta　that　Raj　Ahten　would　target　Heredon。　It　was　not　the　closest　neighbor　to　Raj　Ahten。　Nor　was　it　the　least　defensible　of　the　northern　realms。
　Yet　he　recalled　his　chess　game　from　so　many　years　ago。　The　way　Raj　Ahten　struggled　to　control　even　far　corners　of　the　hoard。　Though　Heredon　was　at　the　edge　of　Raj　Ahten's　board；　the　consequences　of　its　loss　would　be　devastating：　Raj　Ahten　would　take　a　Northern　country；　forcing　Fleeds　and　Mystarria　to　defend　on　fronts　both　to　their　north　and　south。　Heredon　was　not　a　poor　country。　Sylvarresta's　smiths　were　the　finest　makers　of　arms　and　armor　in　Rofehavan；　and　the　land　was　rich　in　cattle　for　food；　sheep　for　wool；　in　timber　to　build　fortifications　and　engines　of　war；　and　in　vassals　to　give　endowments。
　Raj　Ahten　would　need　all　of　these　to　take　the　North。
　My　wife　is　his　cousin；　Sylvarresta　reminded　himself。　Perhaps　he　imagines　she　is　a　danger　to　him。　The　Powers　know；　Venetta　Sylvarresta　would　have　stabbed　Raj　Ahten　in　his　sleep　years　ago；　if　she'd　had　the　chance。
　Is　this　part　of　a　grander　scheme？　Sylvarresta　worried。　Attacks　like　this　could　be　taking　place　in　every　castle　in　Rofehavan。　If　all　the　assassins　struck　simultaneously；　Sylvarresta　would　not　have　time　to　warn　his　fellow　kings。
　He　rubbed　his　eyes；　lost　in　speculation。
　　
　BOOK　2
　　
　DAY　20　IN　THE　MONTH　OF　HARVEST
　　
　A　DAY　OF　SACRIFICE
　　
　Chapter　6
　MEMORIES　OF　SMILES
　　
　In　the　forests　of　the　Dunnwood；　Prince　Gaborn　rode　in　silence　through　the　starlight；　avoiding　the　narrow　gullies　and　darker　woods　where　wights　might　congregate。
　The　trees　above　him　were　twisted　things；　with　limbs　half…bare；　the　yellow　birch　leaves　waggling　in　the　night　wind　like　fingers。　The　carpet　of　leaves　beneath　his　horse's　hooves　was　deep　and　lush；　making　for　a　quiet　ride。
　Shortly　after　dusk　the　sorcerous　mists　had　begun　to　fail。　Raj　Ahten　no　longer　needed　such　mists　to　hide　him。　Instead；　now　the　stars　overhead　shone　with　unnatural　clarity；　perhaps　because　of　some　spell　cast　by　Raj　Ahten's　flameweavers；　gathering　light　so　that　they　might　let　the　Wolf　Lord's　army　pick　their　way　through　the　woods。
　For　hours　Gaborn　had　been　circumventing　Raj　Ahten's　army；　evading　pursuers。　He'd　managed　to　kill　two　more　Frowth　giants；　and　he　shot　an　outrider　from　his　saddle。　But　Gaborn　had　seen　no　sign　of　pursuit　for　three　hours。
　As　he　rode；　he　wondered。　The　Dunnwood　was　an　old　wood；　and　a　queer　place　by　any　standard。　The　headwaters　of　the　River　Wye　were　said　to　be　magical　places；　where　three…hundred…year…old　sturgeons　as　wise　as　any　sage　lived　in　the　deep　pools。
　But　it　was　not　these　that　Gaborn　wondered　at。　It　was　the　woods'　legendary　affinity　for　〃right〃　and　〃law。〃　Few　outlaws　had　ever　penetrated　the　forest。　There　was　Edmon　Tillerman；　who　came　into　the　woods　as　an　outlaw；　a　madman　who　took　endowments　of　brawn　and　wit　from　bears　until　he　became　a　creature　of　the　wood　himself。　According　to　the　folktales；　he　left　off　his　stealing；　and　in　time　became　a　heroavenging　poor　farmers　wronged　by　other　outlaws；　protecting　the　woodland　creatures。
　But　there　were　stranger　stories　still：　the　old　woman　centuries　ago　who　was　murdered　and　hidden　in　a　pile　of　leaves　in　the　Dunnwood；　who　then　became　a　creature　of　wood　and　sticks　that　hunted　down　her　killers。
　Or　what　of　the　giant　〃stone　men〃　that　some　said　walked　these　woods？　Creatures　that　sometimes　came　to　the　edge　of　the　forest　and　stood　gazing　thoughtfully　to　the　south？
　There　was　a　timecenturies　agowhen　these　woods　loved　man　more　than　they　did　now。　A　time　when　men　could　travel　them　freely。　Now；　a　stillness；　a　heaviness；　had　e　under　the　trees；　as　if　the　wood　itself　were　outraged　and　considering　retaliation　against　so　many　uninvited　men。　Certainly　the　heat　of　the　flameweavers；　the　iron…shod　hooves　of　horses；　the　mass　of　men　and　giants　would　all　cause　some　damage　to　the　forest。
　The　owls　had　fallen　silent　this　night；　and　twice　Gaborn　had　seen　huge　harts　bounding　through　the　trees；　shaking　their　great　antlers　from　side　to　side　as　if　prepared　to　fight。
　Off　to　his　right；　the　armies　marched。　A。　feeling　pervaded　the　forest；　like　the　electric　thrill　of　a　brewing　storm。
　For　long　hours；　Gaborn　rode　through　the　trees；　a　heaviness　growing　in　his　heart；　a　drowsiness　fogging　his　mind。　It　was　a　sweet；　organic　tirednesslike　that　brought　on　by　mulled　wine　while　one　sits　beside　a　fire；　or　like　the　drugged　sleep　induced　by　an　herbalist's　concoction　of　poppy　petals。
　Gaborn's　eyelids　began　to　feel　weighty。　He　half…dozed　as　he　rode　up　a　ridge；　around　a　peak；　and　back　down　into　a　valley；　where　brambles　and　limbs　blocked　his　every　path。
　He　became　angry；　drew　his　saber；　and　considered　hacking　his　way　through　the　trees；　but　stopped　when　he　heard　curses　just　ahead；　and　the　sound　of　someone　else；　a　man　in　armor；　hacking　through　the　same　copse。
　Almost　too　late　he　recognized　the　source　of　the　danger。　Somehow　he'd　turned　around　in　his　ride。
　The　trees。　He　wondered　if　they　had　led　him　to　danger。
　In　the　shadowed　woods；　Gabon　stopped。　He　glimpsed　one　of　Raj　Ahten's　patrols。　A　dozen　scouts　hacked　a　path　through　the　brush；　while　Gaborn　held　perfectly　still。
　They　passed　in　the　darkness。　Gaborn　feared　even　to　breathe。
　He　reined　in　his　horse；　hard；　and　inhaled　deeply。　For　long　moments　he　tried　to　focus　his　thoughts。　No　harm；　he　wanted　to　say　to　the　woods。　I　mean　you　no　harm。
　It　required　all　his　will　to　merely　sit　a　horse；　to　keep　from　riding　headlong　toward　destruction。　Sweat　broke　out　on　Gaborn's　forehead；　his　hands　trembled；　and　his　breathing　came　ragged。
　I　am　your　friend；　he　wanted　to　say。　Feel　me。　Test　me。　For　long　moments；　he　tried　to　open　himself；　his　mind　and　heart；　to　municate　to　the　wood。
　He　felt　the　tendrils　of　thought　move　slowly；　seeking　him；　grasping　him　as　a　root　might　grasp　a　stone。　He　could　feel　their　ponderous　power。
　The　trees　seized　him；　infiltrated　every　portion　of　his　mind。　Memories　and　childhood　fears　began　to　flash　before　Gaborn's　eyesunwanted　bits　of　dreams　and　adolescent　fantasies。　Ev