df.therunelords-第45部分

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　the　towers；　perhaps　fearing　the　moat。　A　face　flickered　in　the　flames；　so　much　like　a　woman's　face；　which　gazed　back　longingly　toward　the　wooden　shacks　in　the　lower　part　of　the　city；　down　toward　the　Butterwalk。
　Then　the　flames　leapt　the　wall；　over　the　moat；　and　raced　through　the　fields　toward　the　Dunnwood。
　Distantly；　Gaborn　became　aware　again　of　the　sounds　of　war；　the　battle　horns　of　his　father's　soldiers　as　they　sounded　retreat　upon　those　mist…shrouded　fields。　His　heart　had　been　pounding　so　hard　that　he　had　not　heard　any　other　sounds　for　half　a　minute。
　The　light　of　the　elemental's　fire　blazed；　cutting　through　that　blanket　of　fog。　In　that　light；　Gaborn　could　seeas　if　lit　by　a　flash　of　lightningthree　mounted　soldiers　battling　among　the　nomen；　swinging　their　great　horseman's　axes　wide　over　their　heads；　locked　in　furious　bat。
　Then　the　soldiers　were　gone；　consumed　in　fire。　The　elemental　began　sweeping　over　the　plain；　so　greedy　for　dry　grass　and　timber　and　human　life　that　she　seemed　to　dissipate　altogether；　to　lose　consciousness；　and　bee　nothing　but　a　great　river　of　flame　gushing　across　the　fields。
　Gaborn　felt　sick　of　heart。　When　the　elemental　had　touched　Rowan；　he'd　almost　felt　as　if　it　pierced　him；　too。　Now　he　heard　shouts　of　despair　in　the　fields；　mingled　with　screams　from　the　injured　and　dying　here　in　Castle　Sylvarresta。　He　could　not　block　out　that　last　horrid　look　of　pain　on　Rowan's　face。　Almost　a　look　of　betrayal。
　He　did　not　know　if　he　had　done　well　or　ill　in　slaying　the　flameweaver。　Killing　the　flameweaver　had　been　impetuousalmost　a　reflex　that　felt　somehow　right；　yet　carried　dire　consequences。
　For　the　moment；　the　walls　of　fire　rising　up　from　the　field　kept　Raj　Ahten　from　exiting　Castle　Sylvarresta；　from　sending　his　men　into　battle。
　That　might　be　a　saving　stroke　for　my　men；　Gaborn　thought。
　But　perhaps　not。　Gaborn　had　no　idea　how　many　of　his　troops　died　in　that　river　of　flames。　He　only　hoped　that　in　that　fog；　the　men　had　seen　the　fiery　elemental　crouching　on　the　castle　walls；　had　been　able　to　flee。
　Men　were　dead　and　dying　in　the　castle。　Dozens；　maybe　hundreds　of　Raj　Ahten's　troops　had　burned　in　the　flames。　The　portcullis　of　the　King's　Gate　had　been　incinerated。
　Even　as　Gaborn　watched；　the　huge　oak　drawbridge　to　the　Outer　Gate　was　aflame；　the　towers　beside　it　crumbled　in　ruin。　The　gears　to　raise　and　lower　the　bridge　had　melted　in　the　wreckage。
　With　one　fell　swipe　of　his　blade；　Gaborn　had　just　promised　Castle　Sylvarresta's　defenses。
　If　his　father　sought　to　attack　now；　today；　he'd　have　an　entrance　into　the　castle。
　Gaborn　became　aware　of　a　tiny　figure　atop　the　Outer　Wall；　gazing　over　the　walls　of　flamesthe　figure　of　a　man　in　black　armor；　the　white　owl's　wings　of　his　helm　sweeping　back。
　He　clutched　a　long…handled　horseman's　warhammer　in　one　hand；　and　shouted　with　the　voice　of　a　thousand　men；　so　his　words　rang　clear　from　the　hills；　made　the　castle　walls　reverberate。　〃Mendellas　Draken　Orden：　I　will　kill　you　and　your　spawn！〃
　From　his　perch　at　the　top　of　the　stairs；　Gaborn　fled　to　hide　in　the　nearest　alley。
　　
　Chapter　16
　THE　FEINT
　　
　During　his　ride　from　Tor　Rollick；　Borenson　had　been　lost　in　thought。　The　impending　battle　did　not　occupy　his　mind。　It　was　Myrrima；　the　woman　he'd　betrothed　in　Bannisferre。　Two　days　past；　he'd　escorted　her；　her　sisters；　and　her　mother　into　the　city；　to　keep　them　from　harm　as　Raj　Ahten's　troops　wreaked　havoc　through　the　countryside。
　Myrrima　had　borne　the　attack　well；　kept　a　stout　lip　about　it。　She'd　make　a　fitting　soldier's　wife。
　Yet　in　his　few　tender　hours　with　the　woman；　Borenson　had　fallen　deeply；　irrevocably　in　love。　It　wasn't　just　her　beauty；　though　he　prized　that　well。　It　was　everything　about　herher　sly；　calculating　manners；　her　grasping　nature；　the　unabashed　lust　that　flashed　in　her　eyes　when　she　rode　with　him　alone　to　her　mother's　farm。
　She'd　actually　turned　and　smiled　up　into　his　face；　her　dark　eyes　all　innocence　as　she　asked；　〃Sir　Borenson；　I　assume　you　are　a　man　who　has　endowments　of　stamina？〃
　〃Ten　of　them；〃　he'd　said；　bragging。
　Myrrima　had　raised　a　dark　brow。　〃That　should　be　interesting。　I've　heard　that　on　her　wedding　night；　a　maid　often　discovers　in　bed　that　a　soldier's　great　stamina　is　good　for　something　more　than　insuring　that　he　doesn't　die　from　battle　wounds。　Is　it　true？〃
　Borenson　had　tried　to　stammer　some　answer。　He'd　never　dreamed　that　a　woman　so　lovely　would　ask　him　so　frankly　about　his　skill　in　bed。　Before　he　could　manage　a　reply；　she　stopped　him　by　saying；　〃I　love　the　color　red　on　you。　It　looks　so　good　when　you　wear　it　on　your　face。〃　He'd　blushed　more　fiercely；　felt　grateful　when　she　looked　away。
　Borenson　had　fancied　himself　lost　to　love　more　than　once。　But　this　felt　different。　He　was　no　moon…sick　calf；　bawling　in　the　night　for　some　heifer。　This　felt。。。right。　Loving　her　felt　right；　all　the　way　down　to　the　bone。
　He'd　realized　he　was　in　love　as　he　rode　to　warn　King　Orden　of　the　invasion。　He'd　been　racing　full…speed　along　a　road；　horse　galloping；　and　had　passed　three　lovely　maids　picking　berries　at　the　edge　of　the　road。　One　had　smiled　at　him　seductively；　and　he'd　been　so　lost　in　thought　about　Myrrima；　it　wasn't　until　he　was　ten　miles　down　the　road　that　he　realized　he　hadn't　smiled　back。
　That　was　how　mad　he'd　gone。
　On　riding　to　Castle　Sylvarresta；　he'd　driven　Myrrima　from　his　mind　with　this　thought：　The　sooner　I　finish　this　battle；　the　sooner　I　can　ride　back　to　her。
　Yet　well　before　he　reached　the　castle；　Borenson's　troops　began　to　run　into　Raj　Ahten's　scouts；　hunting　parties　in　fives　and　tens　along　the　road。　His　fastest　knights　hunted　and　slaughtered　the　scouts　gleefully　as　Borenson　plotted　his　attack　on　the　nomen。
　Near　the　castle　he　stooped　at　the　banks　of　the　River　Wye　and　opened　the　flask　of　mist　King　Orden　had　given　him。　He　struggled　to　hold　it　as　fierce　winds　howled　from　the　bottle's　neck。
　By　opening　the　flask　over　water；　he'd　doubled　the　amount　of　mist　it　normally　would　give。　So　he　stoppered　the　bottle　when　it　was　still　half…full。
　Yet　as　the　smell　of　sea　fog　swept　across　the　little　valleys　around　Castle　Sylvarresta；　Borenson　tasted　the　salt　in　the　air　and　thought　of　home。　He　dreamt　how　it　would　be　to　take　Myrrima　back　to　his　new　manor　at　Drewverry　March。　He　knew　the　estatea　fine　manor；　with　a　hearth　in　the　master　bedroom。
　He　quickly　drove　such　thoughts　from　his　mind；　ordered　his　archers　to　string　their　bows　and　charge　through　the　dawn　woods。　Five　minutes　later；　his　men　surprised　the　nomen；　sleeping　in　trees。　Arrows　flew；　nomen　dropped　like　black　fruit　from　the　oaks　of　the　Dunnwoodsome　of　them　dead；　some　seeking　the　safety　of　the　castle。
　His　men　thundered　and　screamed　across　the　downs；　herding　nomen　before　them；　a　great　mass　of　dark　fur；　snarling　fangs；　red　eyes　blazing　with　fear　and　rage。
　Borenson　always　laughed　in　battle；　he　was　told；　though　he　seldom　noticed　it。　It　was　an　affectation　he'd　learned　young；　when　Poll　the　squire　used　to　beat　him。　The　older　boy　had　always　laughed　when　he　dished　out　punishment；　and　as　Borenson　grew　old　enough　to　mete　out　some　retribution；　he'd　taken　to　laughing；　too。　It　terrified　some　foes；　angered　others。　Either　way；　it　caused　his　opponents　to　make　mistakes　while　his　rades　took　heart。
　Thus　he　found　himself　in　the　midst　of　the　plain；　in　a　thick　fog；　surrounded　by　a　dozen　nomen。　The　creatures　hissed　and　roared。
　He　put　his　warhammer　to　work；　parried　blows　with　his　shield；　called　on　his　horse　to　kick　and　paw　the　air；　clearing　away　attackers。
　Lost　in　the　rhythmic　rise　and　fall　of　the　warhammer；　he　was　surprised　when　a　great　wall　of　flames　shot　through　the　fog　to　his　left。
　He　shouted　for　his　horse　to　retreat；　to　run　for　its　life。　It　was　a　force　stallion；　after　all；　able　to　outrace　the　wind。
　But　then　the　wall　of　flame　veered；　stretched　out　tendrils　to　grasp　them　all；　like　some　living　monster　groping　for　them。　The　nomen　saw　their　own　deaths　racing　toward　them；　and　one　yanked　Borenson's　foot；　trying　to　pull　him　from　his　mount；　so　that　they　might　die　in　one　another's　embrace。
　He　hacked　at　the　creature　with　his　warhammer；　realizing　that　he　might　die；　that　he　might　never　deliver　the　message　King　Orden　had　asked　him　to　bear　to　Raj　Ahten。　He　planted　his　warhammer　in　the　noman's　face；　kicked　the　creature　away；　and　his　horse　lunged　through　the　mist。
　Borenson　raced　back　over　the　plains；　calling　〃Orden；　Orden！〃　for　his　men　to　regroup。　The　fire　raced　after　him；　like　slender　fingers　that　would　grasp　and　tear。
　Then　he　raced　under　the　dark　trees。
　When　the　fire　reached　the　oaks；　it　hesitated；　as　if。。。uncertain。　It　prodded　a　large　oak；　exploding　it　into　flame；　then　seemed　to　forget　Borenson。
　Only　half　a　dozen　men　managed　to　follow　Borenson　back　into　the　woods；　but　he'd　seen　dozens　of　others　scatter　from　the　flames；　into　the　mists。
　He　waited　for　several　long　minutes　for　his　men　to　regroup；　hoping　they'd　reached　safety。　Here　in　the　trees；　he　felt　safe；　hidden。　The　leaves　hung　over　him；　closing　him　in。　Surrounding　him　like　a　cloak。　The　branches　were　shields　against　arrow　and　claw；　a　wall　to　slow　the　flames。
　Down　in　the　valley；　he　heard　a　tremendous　cryRaj　Ahten　shouting　threats　of　murder　against　House　Orden。　Borenson　did　not　understand　the　reason；　but　the　fact　that　Raj　Ahten　would　be　so　outraged　made　him　giddy。
　Borenson　blew　his　war　horn；　calling　men　to　regroup。　Minutes　later；　four　hundred　men　had　gathered　from　all　around　the　valley　near　Castle　Sylvarresta。　Some　bore　alarming　news　of　battling　Frowth　giants　east　of　the　castle。　Others　said　nomen　were　regrouping；　trying　to　reach　the　castle　gates。　Other　warriors　had　chased　nomen　deeper　into　the　woods　and　hunted　them　to　good　effect。　Some　men　had　busied　themselves　slaughtering　Raj　Ahten's　horses。　This　whole　battle　was　getting　crazy；　losing　focus；　and　Borenson　almost　wished　now　that　he'd　not　covered　the　battlefield　in　fog。
　He　considered　what　to　do；　felt　it　would　be　safest　to　stay　in　the　woods；　hunting　the　last　of　the　nomen。　But　more　tempting　game　lay　before　the　castle；　in　the　fog。
　〃Right　then；〃　he　ordered。　〃We'll　do　a　sweep　from　east　to　west　before　the　castle。　Lancers　in　front；　to　handle　the　giants。　Bowmen　to　the　sides　to　clear　the　nomen。〃
　The　air　was　filling　with　smoke　from　the　fires　in　the　fiel