df.therunelords-第72部分

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ned　to　white　thistledown；　white　thistledown　that　bobbed　and　swirled　in　every　small　eddy　of　wind；　then　suddenly　caught　in　a　great　gust　and　went　floating　high　and　away　over　the　oaks　and　birches　and　alders　of　the　Dunnwood。
　Last　of　all；　Iome　breathed　on　herself　and　upon　Gaborn；　who　stood　beside　her；　so　they　too　turned　to　thistledown　and　went　flying　high　over　the　Dunnwood；　gazing　down　at　the　autumn　leaves；　all　golden　and　flame　and　earthy　brown。
　She　watched　as　Raj　Ahten's　armies　burst　from　under　the　trees　with　a　shout；　soldiers　waving　battle…axes　and　spears　toward　her　castle。　No　one　stood　to　oppose　them。
　Desolation。　Raj　Ahten　might　have　hoped　to　win　something；　but　all　he　would　inherit　would　be　desolation。
　As　her　horse　carried　Iome　south　through　the　night；　she　felt　as　if　she　flew；　leaving　the　world　behind。　Until　just　after　midnight；　when　a　sudden　dizziness　swept　over　her；　and　she　looked　up　to　see　her　father；　too；　weaving　in　his　saddle。　Grief　struck　her　as　she　recognized　what　was　happening。
　At　Castle　Sylvarresta；　someoneBorenson；　she　suspectedhad　begun　to　slaughter　her　Dedicates。
　
　Chapter　32
　A　HIGH　PRICE　FOR　HOSPITALITY
　　
　The　army　of　Raj　Ahten　came　to　Hayworth　after　midnight；　as　King　Orden　had　said　it　would。
　The　innkeeper　Stevedore　Hark　woke　in　his　cot　beside　his　wife　to　the　sound　of　hoofbeats　on　the　far　side　of　the　river。　It　was　an　odd　trick　of　sound　that　let　one　hear　them　so　clearly　here　on　the　promontory　above　the　water。　The　stone　cliffs　on　the　hillside　above　the　road　caught　the　sounds　of　hoof…beats；　sent　them　echoing　down　over　the　flood。
　Stevedore　Hark　had　taught　himself　years　ago　to　wake　at　the　sound　of　such　hoofbeats；　for　more　often　than　not；　if　a　man　was　riding　abroad　at　night；　it　meant　Hark　would　have　to　find　the　traveler　a　bed。
　His　inn　was　small；　with　but　two　rooms；　so　often　his　guests　were　obliged　to　sleep　four　or　five　on　a　straw　mat。　A　stranger　ing　in　the　middle　of　the　night　meant　that　Hark　might　have　guests　to　waken　and　placate；　as　he　stuffed　a　new　customer　in　their　bedall　kinds　of　such　worries。
　So　when　he　heard　hoofbeats；　Stevedore　Hark　lay　abed　trying　to　count　the　number　of　riders。　A　thousand；　two？　his　sleepy　mind　wondered。　Which　bed　shall　I　put　them　in？
　Then　he　recalled　that　the　bridge　was　out；　and　that　he'd　promised　King　Orden　to　send　these　men　south　to　Boar's　Ford。
　He　jumped　up；　still　in　his　bedclothes；　and　struggled　quickly　to　pull　on　some　socks；　for　it　grew　cold　here　at　night；　so　near　the　mountains。　Then　he　rushed　from　his　inn；　looked　out　over　the　river。　He'd　left　a　lantern　posted　under　the　eaves　of　his　roof；　just　for　this　moment；　but　he　did　not　need　his　own　light。
　The　soldiers　stood　there；　across　the　river。　Knights　in　full　armor；　the　four　lead　men　carrying　guttering　torches　to　light　their　road。　Torchlight　reflected　off　brass　shields；　and　off　water。　The　sight　of　the　warriors　frightened　himthe　white　wings　engraved　on　the　helms　of　the　Invincibles；　the　crimson　wolves　on　their　surcoats。　Mastiffs　and　giants　and　darker　things　could　be　seen；　too。
　〃Hail；　friends；　what　do　you　want？〃　Hark　called。　〃The　bridge　is　out。　You　cannot　pass。　The　closest　place　is　upstream；　at　the　Boar's　Ford。　Twenty　miles！　Follow　the　trail。〃
　He　nodded　encouragingly；　pointing　the　way。　A　little…used　trail　led　up…river　to　the　ford。　The　night　air　smelled　heavy…laden　of　rain；　and　the　wind　swirled　about　Hark's　head；　carrying　the　scent　of　pine。　The　dark　waters　of　the　river　lapped　softly　at　their　banks。
　The　soldiers　studied　him　quietly。　Tired；　it　seemed。　Or　perhaps　they　did　not　speak　his　tongue。　Stevedore　Hark　knew　a　few　words　of　Muyyatinish。
　〃Chota。　Chota！〃　he　shouted；　pointing　toward　the　ford。
　Among　the　horsemen；　a　shadowy　figure　suddenly　pushed　its　way　forward。　A　small　dark　man　with　glittering　eyes；　and　no　hair。　He　gazed　across　the　river　toward　Hark　and　smiled　broadly；　as　if　sharing　a　private　joke。
　He　shrugged　off　his　robe　and　stood　naked。　For　one　brief　moment；　his　eyes　seemed　to　glow；　then　a　blue　flame　licked　the　side　of　his　face；　rising　into　the　night。
　〃The　darkness　of　a　deceptionI　can　see　it　in　you！〃　the　small　man　cried。
　He　raised　a　fist；　and　the　blue　flame　shot　along　his　arm；　came　skipping　across　the　surface　of　the　river　like　a　stone；　and　bounced　toward　Stevedore　Hark。
　Hark　shouted　in　terror　as　the　thing　touched　the　side　of　his　inn。　The　ancient　timbers　screamed　as　if　in　pain；　then　burst　into　flame。　The　oil　in　the　lamp　posted　under　the　eaves　exploded　all　along　the　wall。
　The　small　blue　light　then　went　racing　back　across　the　river；　to　rest　in　the　small　man's　eyes。
　Stevedore　Hark　shouted　and　rushed　into　his　inn　to　fetch　his　wife　and　guests　before　the　whole　building　burst　into　a　conflagration。
　By　the　time　he'd　dragged　his　wife　and　guests　from　their　beds；　the　roof　of　the　inn　was　afire；　orange　flames　writhing　up　in　great　sheets。
　Stevedore　Hark　raced　from　the　inn；　gasping　from　smoke；　and　looked　out　across　the　river。　The　dark　man　stood　watching；　smiling　broadly。
　He　waved　toward　Hark　with　a　little　flourish；　then　turned　and　headed　along　the　roaddownstream；　toward　Power's　Bridge；　some　thirty　miles　to　the　east。　It　would　take　Raj　Ahten's　army　far　out　of　their　way；　but　the　Wolf　Lord's　soldiers　would　circumvent　Orden's　ambush。
　Stevedore　Hark　found　his　heart　pounding。　It　was　a　long　way　for　a　fat　old　innkeeper　to　ride　to　get　to　Longmont；　and　there　were　no　force　horses　in　town。　He　couldn't　warn　Orden　that　his　ambush　would　fail。　He'd　never　make　it　riding　through　the　woods　at　night。
　Silently；　he　wished　Orden　well。
　
　Chapter　33
　TREACHERY
　　
　King　Mendellas　Draken　Orden　toured　the　defenses　of　Longmont　in　the　failing　light；　considering　how　best　to　defend　the　rock。　It　was　an　odd　castle；　with　outer　walls　exceptionally　tall；　carved　of　granite　from　the　hill　Longmont　squatted　upon。　The　fortress　had　no　secondary　or　tertiary　walls；　as　one　found　in　a　larger　castle；　such　as　at　Sylvarresta。　It　had　no　fine　merchants'　quarter；　held　only　two　defensible　manors　for　minor　barons；　along　with　the　keeps　for　the　Duke；　his　soldiers；　and　his　Dedicates。
　But　the　walls　were　solid；　protected　by　earth　runes　of　bonding。
　The　tallest　building　in　the　keep　was　the　graaks'　aeriea　merely　functional　building　on　a　rock　pinnacle　that　could　nest　up　to　six　of　the　large　reptiles。　One　reached　the　aerie　by　means　of　narrow　stone　stairs　that　zigzagged　along　the　east　wall　of　the　pinnacle。　The　aerie　was　not　meant　to　be　defended。　It　had　no　merlons　archers　could　hide　behind；　no　landings　on　the　stairs　where　swordsmen　had　room　to　swing。　It　held　only　a　wide　landing　field　atop　the　pinnacle　for　graaks；　then　six　circular　openings　in　nests　above　the　field。
　The　dukes　of　Longmont　had　not　raised　graaks　here　in　generations。　King　Orden　thought　it　a　shame。　A　hundred　and　twenty　years　past；　several　harsh　winters　came；　and　here　in　the　north　the　graaks　had　frozen　from　cold。　During　those　same　winters　the　Frowth　giants　had　traveled　from　the　north　over　the　snow。　But　when　the　winters　warmed　and　the　wild　graaks　flew　up　again　from　the　south；　the　kings　of　Heredon　hadn't　tamed　them；　as　their　forefathers　had。　When　they　sent　messages；　they　trusted　riders　on　force　horses。
　It　seemed　a　shame　to　Orden。　A　rich　tradition　had　been　lost。　In　some　small　way；　the　nation　became　poorer　for　it。
　The　aeries　were　badly　kept。　Stone　watering　troughs　lay　empty。　Gnawed　bones　lay　about；　leftovers　from　past　feedings。
　Over　the　years；　Orden　had　sent　messages　north　by　graak；　and　some　graaks　had　stopped　here。　No　one　had　ever　cleaned　the　dung　from　the　floors；　now　lime　liberally　covered　the　stone。　The　stairs　leading　to　the　aerie　were　age…worn。　Vines　of　morning　glory　climbed　from　cracks　in　the　rock；　their　blue　flower　petals　open　now　to　the　evening　sun。
　But　Orden　found　that　one　could　see　well　from　the　landing　field　on　the　aerieeven　down　to　the　roofs　of　the　Dedicates'　Keep　and　Duke's　Keep。　So　he　secreted　six　archers　with　steel　bows　there；　ordering　them　to　hide　and　watch；　shooting　only　if　Raj　Ahten's　forces　made　it　through　the　gates。　He　added　a　single　swordsman　to　guard　the　steps。
　In　the　semidarkness；　he　waited　for　his　body　servant　to　light　a　lantern；　then　by　its　light　he　toured　the　Dedicates'　Keep。　From　the　outside；　it　looked　to　be　an　austere；　grim　keepa　round　tower　that　could　hold　a　thousand　Dedicates。　For　windows；　it　had　a　handful　of　small　slits　in　the　stone。　Orden　imagined　few　Dedicates　ever　stood　in　the　full　sunlight　once　they　gave　endowments。　To　bee　a　Dedicate　for　the　Duke；　one　virtually　had　to　consign　one's　self　to　a　prison。
　But　the　interior　of　the　Dedicates'　Keep　was　surprisingly　plush。　The　walls　were　painted　white；　with　images　of　blue　roses　or　daisies　stenciled　along　the　small　windowsills。　Each　level　in　the　tower　had　its　own　mon　room；　with　beds　arranged　around　the　outer　walls；　and　a　fine　hearth　in　the　center。　Such　rooms　were　devised　so　that　at　night　a　pair　of　caretakers　might　watch　over　a　hundred　or　more　Dedicates　at　once。　The　rooms　each　had　chessboards；　fortable　chairs　to　sit　in；　fresh　rushes　mingled　with　lavender　on　the　floors。
　King　Orden　worried　for　his　son。　He　still　had　no　word　of　Gaborn's　whereabouts。　Had　the　boy　been　killed？　Did　he　sit　in　Sylvarresta's　keep；　a　Dedicate　to　Raj　Ahten？　Perhaps　he　rested　beside　a　warm　fire；　weak　as　a　kitten；　playing　chess。　One　could　only　hope。　One　had　to　hope。　But　Orden's　hope　was　waning。
　The　Duke's　Keep　now　cloistered　less　than　a　hundred　Dedicates；　all　in　a　single　room。　Orden　calculated　that　it　should　have　held　at　least　five　hundred　to　serve　the　fortress　defenders。　But　at　least　four　hundred　Dedicates　had　died　in　the　fight　to　win　back　the　castle。
　The　battle　for　freedom　claimed　that　many　victims。
　Fortifications　for　the　tower　concentrated　at　its　lowest　level。　With　great　thoroughness；　Orden　inspected　these　defenses；　for　he　hoped　to　fight　Raj　Ahten　here；　where　he　might　have　some　advantage。
　A　portcullis　opened　to　a　guardroom　where　a　dozen　pikemen　might　keep　watch。　The　gears　to　the　portcullis　were　kept　some　eighty　feet　back；　in　a　separate　room。　A　pair　of　guards　could　be　housed　in　the　gear　room。
　Off　from　the　gear　room　lay　an　armory　and　the　Duke's　treasury。　The　armory　was　well　stocked　with　arrows　and　ballista　boltsmore　than　Orden　would　have　imagined。　The　arrows　were　bound　into　bundles　of　a　hundred。　A　quick　gu