df.therunelords-第78部分

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e　would　need　his　sleep。
　So　King　Orden　went　back　to　the　battlements　and　fretted　and　watched　for　signs　of　aid；　signs　of　trouble。　He　put　his　far…seers；　men　with　many　endowments　of　sight；　on　the　highest　pinnacle　of　the　graak's　aerie；　then　sent　scouts　out　to　keep　watch　on　the　hills　and　roads　both　east　and　west　for　sign　of　Raj　Ahten's　occupying　army。
　But　they　caught　no　wind　of　it。
　Instead；　hour　by　hour；　all　through　the　night；　men　came　riding　in　to　give　aidthree　hundred　more　farmers　from　the　area　around　Castle　Dreis；　all　with　longbows；　they　had　no　armor；　but　wore　woolen　vests　that　might　keep　out　a　poorly　sent　shaft。　Borenson's　regiment　came　racing　in　near　dawneighty　warriors　who　bore　many　wounds　from　yesterday's　battle。
　They　told　how　Raj　Ahten's　troops　never　showed　for　the　ambush　at　Boar's　Ford。　Said　they'd　heard　no　word　of　Gaborn。
　From　the　west　came　a　regiment　of　two　hundred　lancers　on　force　horses　from　out　of　Castle　Jonnick；　men　who'd　ridden　when　they　heard　Castle　Sylvarresta　had　fallen；　then　had　neared　it　only　to　hear　that　a　battle　would　be　fought　at　Longmont。
　From　the　east；　Knights　Equitable　trickled　in　from　freeholds；　a　dozen　here；　fifty　there。　Mostly　they　were　older　men　who　had　nothing　to　lose；　or　young　men　still　naive　enough　to　believe　that　war　is　glorious。　All　of　these　added　to　the　fifteen　hundred　knights　and　archers　that　the　Earl　of　Dreis　had　brought　in；　and　the　two　thousand　from　Groverman。
　Then　there　were　the　farmers'　sons　and　the　merchants　out　of　towns　that　bordered　the　woods。　Boys　with　grim　faces；　some　armed　with　nothing　but　an　axe　or　a　scythe。　Young　men　from　the　cities　who　were　dressed　in　finery；　who　bore　light　swords　that　had　too　much　gold　in　the　baskets　of　their　ornate　hilts。
　Orden　did　not　relish　the　arrival　of　such　moners；　hardly　counted　them　as　defenders。　Yet　he　dared　not　deny　them　the　right　to　fight。　This　was　their　land　to　protect；　not　his。
　As　each　little　troop　rode　between　the　twin　fires　burning　along　the　road　before　the　castle　gates；　men　on　the　walls　would　shout　in　triumph　and　blow　their　horns；　calling　〃Hail　Sir　Freeman！〃　or　〃Hail　Brave　Barrows！〃
　Orden　knew　men's　devices；　could　name　most　knights　by　glancing　at　their　shields。　But　one　rider　who　came　in　near　dawn　both　mystified　and　excited　him。
　Almost　last　to　ride　in　that　night　was　a　huge　fellow；　big　as　a　bear；　riding　a　black；　swaybacked　donkey　as　fast　as　it　would　trot。　He　bore　no　coat　of　arms；　only　a　round　shield　with　a　huge　spike　in　it；　and　he　wore　a　squat　helm　from　which　a　single　cow's　horn　curled。　He　had　no　mail　but　a　thick　coat　of　pig's　hide；　and　his　only　weapon；　beside　the　dagger　on　his　belt；　was　a　huge　axe　with　an　iron　handle　some　six　feet　long；　which　rested　across　the　pommel　of　his　saddle。　With　him　rode　fifty　men　as　grungy　as　himselfmen　with　longbows　and　axes。　Outlaws。
　The　knights　on　Longmot's　walls　hesitated　to　name　this　warrior　and　his　band；　though　they　could　not　help　but　recognize　him。　Shostag　the　Axeman。　For　twenty　years；　Shostag　and　his　outlaws　had　been　a　scourge　to　every　Runelord　along　the　Solace　Mountains。
　It　was　said　that　he　was　a　Wolf　Lord　of　the　old　school；　that　he'd　taken　many　endowments　from　dogs。　As　Shostag　neared　the　castle　gates；　King　Orden　watched　the　downs　behind　him；　saw　the　fleeting　gray　shadows　of　wolves　race　nervously　through　the　starlight　along　the　hedgerows；　leaping　stone　fences。
　Shostag　stopped　a　hundred　yards　from　the　gates　with　his　henchmen；　among　the　last　ruins　of　the　burned　city。　Even　in　the　near…total　darkness；　the　firelight　showed　his　face　to　be　dirty　and　unshaven；　his　every　manner　vile。　He　spat　in　the　ashes；　looked　up　to　the　battlements；　stared　Orden　in　the　eye。
　Shostag　asked；　〃I　saw　your　signal　fires。　I　hear　you　want　a　Runelord　dead。　Are　we　invited　to　this　festivity？〃
　Orden　was　not　certain　he　trusted　the　man。　The　Axemen　might　well　turn　on　him；　wreaking　havoc　within　the　castle's　walls　at　the　battle's　climax。
　〃I'd　be　honored　to　fight　beside　men　of　your。。。reputed　skill；〃　King　Orden　answered。　He　could　not　afford　to　turn　down　any　aid；　even　from　the　Axeman。
　Shostag　cleared　his　throat；　hawked　on　the　ground。　〃If　me　and　my　boys　kill　this　fellow　for　you；　I'll　want　a　pardon。〃
　Orden　nodded。
　〃I'll　want　a　title　and　lands；　same　as　any　other　lord。〃
　Orden　considered。　He　had　an　estate　in　the　dark　forests　on　the　borders　of　Lonnock。　It　was　a　gloomy　swamp；　infested　with　bandits　and　mosquitoes。　The　estate　had　lain　idle　now　for　three　years；　waiting　for　the　right　man。　Shostag　would　either　clear　the　bandits　from　the　woods；　or　he'd　let　them　join　him。
　〃I　can　promise　an　estate　in　Mystarria；　if　King　Sylvarresta　cannot　do　better。〃
　〃I'll　take　it；〃　Shostag　grunted；　waved　his　men　in。
　Two　hours　before　dawn；　Orden　still　had　seen　no　sign　of　Gaborn　or　Borenson；　had　heard　no　word。　Another　messenger　brought　news　that　the　Duke　of　Groverman　would　offer　more　aid　from　neighboring　castles；　but　couldn't　reach　Longmont　before　dusk。
　Of　course；　Raj　Ahten　will　get　here　first；　Orden　realized。
　Groverman　did　right　by　maintaining　his　own　hold　until　he　was　sure　it　could　be　defended；　regardless　of　the　promise　of　treasure。
　So　it　seemed　that　no　more　aid　would　e。　Though　his　scouts　had　not　yet　warned　him　of　Raj　Ahten's　approach；　Orden　expected　it　within　an　hour　or　two。
　The　very　fact　that　he　hadn't　yet　received　word　of　Gaborn　worried　King　Orden。　Hour　by　hour；　his　hopes　for　his　son's　well…being　dwindled；　until　he　felt　it　vain　to　hope。　Surely　Raj　Ahten　had　captured　him。
　And　the　Wolf　Lord　would　have　either　killed　him　or　taken　the　boy's　endowments。
　So　Orden　took　his　forcibles；　lined　up　his　volunteers；　and　let　the　facilitator　for　the　Earl　of　Dreis　sing　the　ancient　spells　that　made　the　forcibles　glow；　creating　ribbons　of　light　as　man　after　man　gave　up　metabolism。
　Last　of　all；　Orden　gave　his　own　endowment；　pleting　the　serpent　ring。　It　was　a　desperate　act。
　With　a　heavy　heart　and　fewer　than　six　thousand　men；　Orden　closed　his　gates　at　dawn　and　waited　for　the　gathering　conflict。　He'd　left　a　few　scouts　outside　the　walls　to　bring　advance　word　of　any　sighting　of　Raj　Ahten's　troops；　but　had　no　more　hopes　of　reinforcements。
　He　gave　one　last　speech；　calling　on　the　full　powers　of　his　Voice　to　cut　across　distance；　penetrate　every　stone　of　the　castle。　The　knights　and　moners　and　felons　on　the　walls　all　looked　up　at　him　expectantly；　every　man　bundled　in　his　armor。
　〃Men；〃　he　said；　〃you've　heard　that　Raj　Ahten　took　Castle　Sylvarresta　without　benefit　of　arms。　He　used　nothing　but　glamour　and　Voice　to　disarm　Sylvarresta's　troops。　And　you　know　what　happened　to　the　knights　in　that　castle　afterward。〃
　〃Well；　we'll　allow　none　of　that　here。　If　Raj　Ahten　seeks　to　use　his　Voice；　I'll　expect　every　man　within　range　to　fire　on　him　the　same　as　if　he　were　a　charging　army。〃
　〃When　he　leaves　this　field；　either　he'll　be　dead；　or　we'll　be　dead。　If　any　of　you　young　men　succumb　to　the　power　of　his　Voice；　my　knights　will　throw　you　over　the　castle　walls。〃
　〃We'll　not　suffer　children　to　spoil　a　man's　fight。〃
　〃May　the　Powers　be　with　us！〃
　When　he　finished　speaking；　six　thousand　men　raised　their　arms；　chanting　〃Orden！　Orden！　Orden！〃
　King　Orden　gazed　out　over　the　walls。　He　knew　that　this　warning；　against　Raj　Ahten；　given　with　the　full　power　of　his　Voice；　would　have　great　influence　over　his　men。　He　only　hoped　Raj　Ahten　would　not　be　able　to　unravel　the　spell　his　words　had　woven。
　On　the　horizon；　over　the　Dunnwood；　he　felt　cool　air　blowing　in。　It　felt　like　snow。
　But　where　was　Gaborn？
　　
　Chapter　37
　BOYS　ON　THE　ROAD
　　
　Myrrima　sat　in　the　bed　of　a　rickety　wagon　as　the　team　of　horses　hurried　down　the　road　early　that　morning。　The　wagon　swayed　and　creaked　as　it　followed　its　rut。　Once　they'd　moved　up　from　the　fields　near　Bannisferre；　and　crossed　into　the　Dunnwood；　the　wagon　had　bee　especially　unfortable；　for　large　tree　roots　that　crossed　the　road　underground　provided　ample　bumps。
　She　was　but　one　of　ten　passengers　from　Bannisferre。　The　others　were　all　young　farm　boys　armed　with　nothing　but　their　bows　and　spears　and　dreams　of　retribution　for　the　murders　mitted　against　their　kin　during　the　past　week。
　Even　the　wagon　did　not　belong　to　any　one　of　them；　but　had　only　been　lent　by　farmer　Fox　up　the　road　toward　town。　These　boys　had　no　horses　of　their　own　to　ride　into　war。
　But　they　talked　like　the　brave　sons　of　noblemen。　Ah；　they　could　talk。　〃I'll　kill　me　an　Invincible；　sure　as　I'm　ugly；〃　said　one　young　lad；　Hobie　Hollowell。　He　was　slender　and　strong；　with　wheat…straw　hair　and　blue　eyes　that　shone　each　time　he　looked　at　Myrrima。　There　was　a　time　not　many　weeks　past　when　she'd　have　hoped　for　a　match　with　him。
　〃Ah；　you　can't　hit　anything　with　that　bow　of　yours。〃　Wyeth　Able　chortled。　〃All　your　arrows　are　as　crooked　as　your　aim。〃
　〃It's　not　arrows　I　plan　to　kill　him　with。〃　Hobie　laughed。　〃I　plan　to　wait　till　one　is　scaling　the　castle　walls；　then　throw　your　fat　carcass　over　on　him！　It　would　flatten　him　sure；　without　any　harm　to　your　wide　buttocks。〃
　〃Hah；　as　if　you　could　wrestle　me　over　the　wall；〃　Wyeth　said；　pulling　off　his　hat　and　slapping　Hobie。　Wyeth　was　a　stout　boy；　destined　to　be　almost　as　wide　as　he　was　tall；　and　then　the　boys　were　at　it；　tussling　and　laughing　in　the　wagon。
　Myrrima　smiled　faintly。　She　knew　their　antics　were　for　her；　that　they　all　peted　for　her　attention。　She'd　known　most　of　these　young　men　all　her　life；　yet　since　she'd　received　her　endowments　of　glamour；　their　relationships　had　shifted　dramatically。　Boys　who　had　once　thought　her　just　another　waif　now　smiled　shyly　and　forgot　their　manners；　if　not　their　own　names；　in　her　presence。
　It　seemed　a　great　shame　that　her　beauty　had　bee　a　barrier　to　mon　relationships。　She'd　not　have　wished　it。
　Wyeth　wrestled　Hobie　to　the　bottom　of　the　wagon　with　little　effort；　then　grinned　up　at　Myrrima　for　approval。
　She　nodded　kindly；　smiled。
　So　the　team　of　horses　raced　the　last　few　miles　to　Longmont；　over　grassy　hills　where　oaks　spread　their　branches　wide。　She　felt　very　tired　after　the　long　ride。　The　horses　that　drew　the　wagon　were　no　force　horses；　but　they　were　a　strong　team；　used　to　working　together；　much　like　the　boys　in　the　wagon。
　When　they　reached　Longmont；　saw　its　long；　high　walls　and　foreboding　towers；　Myrrima　almost　wished　she　had　not　e。　It　hurt　to　see　the