df.therunelords-第18部分

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ike　Raj　Ahten；　would　their　resources　be　enough？
　
　Chapter　7
　PREPARATIONS
　　
　That　afternoon　Sylvarresta's　people　were　still　preparing　for　battle。　The　initial　hysteria　of　the　impending　attackthe　screaming　of　children　and　peasants；　the　mad　rush　as　the　elderly　and　infirm　fled　the　cityhad　all　passed。　Now　uneasy　farmers　and　soldiers　alike　manned　the　Outer　Wall；　and　had　thrown　up　hasty　barriers　to　serve　as　battlements　in　the　streets。　Not　in　four　hundred　years　had　so　many　people　gathered　on　the　wallsfor　many　who　would　not　fight　stood　watch　out　of　sheer　curiosity。
　Pigs；　cattle；　sheep；　and　chickens　scurried　through　the　alleys　and　greens；　frightened；　disoriented。　All　the　animals　in　the　countryside　had　been　herded　within　the　wallsto　feed　the　city's　inhabitants　during　siege；　while　at　the　same　time　denying　similar　succor　to　Raj　Ahten's　troops。
　In　the　brown　fields　outside　the　castle；　the　Southern　merchants　had　disbanded；　driven　off　with　their　bright　pavilions　and　little　else。
　Throughout　the　afternoon；　Raj　Ahten's　troops　began　massing　on　the　southern　hilltop　at　the　edge　of　the　forest；　consolidating　their　forces。　At　first；　only　the　Invincibles　showed　themselves；　knights　in　dark　splint　mail　or　plate；　wearing　tunics　of　gold　and　red。　Yet　they　kept　to　the　edge　of　the　forest；　hiding　their　numbers。　As　the　day　lengthened；　giants　and　war　dogs　also　joined　their　ranks。
　By　then；　the　city　was　effectively　under　siege。　No　one　would　dare　e　in　or　go　out；　though　the　Raj　Ahten's　siege　engines　had　not　yet　made　it　through　the　woods。　Instead；　the　Southern　soldiers　began　to　busy　themselves　by　cutting　trees　to　build　fortifications。
　Defenders　on　the　castle　walls　stood　readyarchers　and　pikemen；　spearmen　and　artillery。　King　Sylvarresta　had　sent　messengers　to　neighboring　castles；　calling　for　aid。
　But　while　the　rest　of　Castle　Sylvarresta　stood　poised　for　battle；　in　the　Dedicates'　Keep；　the　deepest　and　most　protected　heart　of　the　fortress；　preparations　for　battle　were　still　afoot。
　The　walls　of　the　Dedicates'　Keep　rang　with　pain　as　men　and　women　offered　up　endowments　to　their　lord。
　Two　hundred　of　Sylvarresta's　servants　and　vassals　had　gathered　to　offer　endowments。　While　Sylvarresta's　chief　facilitator；　Erin　Hyde；　worked　the　forcibles；　two　of　his　apprentices　walked　among　the　volunteers；　prodding　and　testing；　seeking　those　who　had　enough　brawn；　wit；　grace；　or　stamina　to　justify　the　rigor　and　cost　involved　in　taking　endowments。　For　if　a　lord　sought　strength；　he　got　it　best　from　those　who　had　it　in　abundance。
　A　counselor　worked　as　an　advisor　with　those　who　were　fortunate　enough　to　have　adequate　attributes。　He　helped　illiterate　peasants　fill　out　contracts　which　promised；　in　return　for　the　endowments；　Sylvarresta's　lifelong　protection　and　succor。
　Among　those　who　gathered　to　grant　endowments　lingered　the　well…wishers；　those　who　had　e　to　offer　fort　to　friends　or　kin　who　would　soon　be　horribly　maimed。
　Last　of　all；　throughout　the　courtyard；　were　those　who　had　long　ago　given　endowments　to　their　lord。　The　Dedicates'　Keep　harbored　some　fifteen　hundred　Dedicates；　most　of　them　ambulatory　enough　to　e　watch　the　dedicatory　ceremonies。
　Iome　knew　many　of　them　well；　for　she　often　helped　care　for　the　old　Dedicatesblind　Carrock；　one　of　her　servants　who　had　given　his　eyes；　the　drooler　Mordin；　once　a　bright　young　man；　who　had　given　his　wit。　The　deaf；　the　sickly；　the　ugly；　those　nearly　bedridden　from　weakness。　Hundreds　and　hundreds　of　othersan　army　of　shambling　people。
　In　the　very　center　of　this　throng；　in　the　keep's　bailey；　looking　as　fierce　as　the　sun；　as　regal　as　the　night　sky　with　all　its　stars；　Lord　Sylvarresta　himself　sat　on　a　gray　rock　among　the　sea　of　grass；　his　weapons　handy；　half　in　battle　armor；　his　chest　naked。
　Those　still　waiting　to　give　endowments　lay　on　low　cots；　waiting　for　Erin　Hyde　to　e　among　them　with　his　spells　and　his　forcibles。
　Among　those　who　had　just　given　endowments　wandered　Lord　Sylvarresta's　own　chief　physic　and　herbalist；　Binnesman。　He　was　short；　with　a　stooped　back；　green　robes；　and　hands　dirt…stained　from　his　labors。　He　wore　a　perpetual　smile　as　he　spoke　to　the　new　Dedicates；　offering　fort　here；　a　whiff　of　medicinal　aromas　there。
　Binnesman's　skill　was　much　wanted　along　the　castle　walls。　The　powers　of　his　herbs　were　legendary：　his　blended　teas　of　borage；　hyssop；　basil；　and　other　spices　could　give　a　warrior　courage　before　a　battle；　lend　energy　during　the　conflict；　and　aid　in　healing　wounds　after。
　But　despite　the　fact　that　he　was　needed　on　the　walls；　the　need　here　was　more　pressing；　for　the　granting　of　major　endowments　could　be　deadly。　A　great　brute　who　gave　strength　to　Lord　Sylvarresta　would　fall　down　afterward；　perhaps　so　weakened　that　for　a　moment　or　two　his　heart　could　not　beat。　One　who　had　offered　an　endowment　of　grace；　who'd　always　been　limber；　would　suddenly　convulse　into　spasms；　bee　rigid　as　a　board；　his　lungs　unable　to　relax　enough　to　let　him　draw　another　breath。
　For　the　moment；　Binnesman　could　not　go　to　the　walls。　He　needed　to　help　keep　alive　those　who'd　offered　endowments。　Sylvarresta　could　only　benefit　from　the　endowments　so　long　as　the　giver　still　lived。
　Iome　herself　lent　a　hand　in　the　preparations；　her　Days　watching　impassively　from　the　shadows　by　the　keep's　kitchens。　At　the　moment；　Iome　knelt　in　the　dusty　courtyard　above　a　cot　where　lay　the　matron　who　had　cared　for　her　since　childhood。　The　matron；　a　husky　woman　named　Dewynne；　sweated　profusely　from　nervousness；　despite　the　cool　evening。　The　high　walls　of　the　fortress　kept　everyone　in　shade。
　Iome's　father　spoke；　the　power　of　his　voice　cutting　across　the　courtyard：　〃Dewynne；　are　you　sure　you　can　do　this？〃
　Dewynne　smiled　at　him　weakly；　her　face　rigid　from　fear。　〃We　all　fight　as　we　can；〃　she　whispered。　Iome　could　hear　love　in　her　voice；　love　for　King　Sylvarresta。
　The　chief　facilitator；　Erin　Hyde；　stepped　between　Dewynne　and　the　King；　inspecting　a　forcible。　The　rod　looked　like　a　branding　iron　of　reddish　blood　metal。　It　was　a　foot　long；　with　a　rune　forged　in　a　one…inch　circle　at　one　end。　Hyde　gently　pressed　the　rune　to　Dewynne's　fleshy　arm。
　Hyde　began　his　incantation；　chanting　in　a　high　voice；　his　words　more　a　piping　birdlike　song　rather　than　anything　a　human　would　utter。　The　words　came　so　quickly　that　Iome　could　hardly　distinguish　one　from　another。　The　facilitators　called　it　a　song　of　power。　In　conjunction　with　the　runes　carved　on　the　forcible；　the　song　drew　out　a　Dedicate's　attribute。
　The　symbol　on　this　forcible　reminded　Iome　of　an　eagle　flying　with　a　giant　spider　dripping　from　its　mouth。　Yet　the　sinuous　lines　on　the　rune　varied　greatly　in　thickness；　curled　at　odd　yet　seeming　natural　angles。　The　symbol　for　stamina。　Dewynne　had　always　been　healthynever　sick　a　day　of　her　life。　Now　Lord　Sylvarresta　would　need　her　stamina　in　battle；　need　it　desperately　if　he　took　a　serious　wound。
　The　facilitator　kept　chirping　in　his　high　voice；　then　suddenly　cried　with　a　throaty　growl；　making　earthy　soundslike　lava　bubbling；　like　lions　roaring　in　the　wilderness。
　The　end　of　the　forcible　began　to　glow。　Its　blood　metal　blossomed　from　a　dull　rusty　rose　to　a　fierce　titanium　white。
　Dewynne　screamed　〃Ah；　by　the　Powers；　it　hurts！〃　and　struggled　away　from　the　burning　rune。　Sweat　poured　from　her　as　if　she　had　a　raging　fever。　Her　face　contorted　in　pain。
　Her　jaw　quivered；　and　her　back　arched　off　the　cot。　She　began　panting；　sweat　streaming　from　her　face。
　Iome　held　the　woman；　forcing　her　down；　forcing　her　still。　A　strong　soldier　took　Dewynne's　right　arm　so　that　she　couldn't　break　contact　with　the　forcible；　spoil　the　spell。
　〃Look　at　my　father；〃　Iome　said；　trying　to　distract　Dewynne　from　the　pain。　〃Look　to　your　lord！　He'll　protect　you。　He　loves　you。　My　father　has　always　loved　you；　just　as　you　love　him。　He'll　protect　you。　Just　keep　looking　at　your　lord。〃
　Iome　shot　a　fierce　glare　at　the　facilitator；　so　he　moved　a　bit；　opening　Dewynne's　view。
　〃Ah；　and　I　thought　having　a　child　hurt！〃　Dewynne　sobbed；　yet　she　turned　and　looked　fondly　at　King　Sylvarresta。　It　was　necessary。　It　was　necessary　for　her　to　remember　why　she　had　to　pass　through　this　pain。　It　was　necessary　for　her　to　want　this；　to　want　to　give　up　her　stamina　more　than　anything　else　in　the　world。　And　the　only　way　to　keep　her　focused　on　this　desire　was　to　put　the　object　of　her　devotion　before　her　eyes。
　King　Sylvarresta；　a　strong　man　in　his　mid…thirties；　was　stripped　to　the　waist；　and　sat　on　a　stone　in　the　courtyard。　His　long　auburn　hair　fell　down　round　his　shoulders；　and　his　wavy　beard　was　neatly　trimmed。　At　the　moment；　his　armorer　was　trying　to　get　him　to　put　on　a　leather　underjerkin　in　preparation　for　the　full　mail；　but　Sylvarresta　needed　to　keep　his　upper　torso　bare　so　that　the　facilitator　could　apply　the　runes　of　power。
　The　King's　chancellor；　Rodderman；　was　demanding　that　Lord　Sylvarresta　go　out　to　the　walls　now；　to　bolster　the　courage　of　his　people；　while　the　King's　old　sage；　Chamberlain　Inglorians；　urged　him　to　stay；　to　get　as　many　endowments　as　possible。
　King　Sylvarresta　elected　to　stay。　He　glanced　Iome's　way；　caught　Dewynne's　eyes；　and　just　held　the　suffering　woman　with　his　gaze。
　For　that　moment；　nothing　else　mattered。　The　King　ignored　his　counselors；　his　armorer；　the　resounding　tumult　of　an　impending　war。　There　was　infinite　love　in　the　King's　eye；　infinite　sadness。　His　look　told　Dewynne　that　he　knew　what　she　was　giving　him；　that　she　mattered。　Iome　knew　that　her　father　hated　this；　hated　having　to　suck　others　dry　in　order　to　protect　his　vassals。
　In　that　second；　something　must　have　changed　in　Dewynne；　she　must　have　reached　that　necessary　moment　of　yearning；　that　moment　when　the　transfer　of　attributes　could　take　place。　The　facilitator's　growls　turned　to　demanding　shouts　as　the　full　force　of　his　spell　came　unleashed。
　The　white…hot　blood　metal　of　the　forcibles　trembled　and　twisted；　like　a　snake　in　the　facilitator's　hands。
　Dewynne　shrieked　from　a　pain　unimaginable。　Something　within　her　seemed　to　collapseas　if　a　great　crushing　weight　pressed　down　on　her；　or　as　if　she　had　bee　diminished；　had　grown　smaller。
　The　smell　of　burning　hair　and　seared　skin　rose　on　wisps　of　smoke。
　Dewynne　writhed；　tried　to　squirm　away。　The　sergeant　held　her；　a　man　of　inhuman　strength。
　Dewynne　turned　from