srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第108部分

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way　Lord　Mhoram's　staff。　He　spun　once　to　gain　momentum；　and　leveled　a　crushing　blow　with　the　staff　at　Covenant's　head。
　The　unexpectedness　of　the　attack　surpassed　even　Bannor。　But　he　recovered；　sprang　after　Troy；　jolted　him　enough　to　unbalance　his　swing。　As　a　result；　only　the　heel　of　the　staff　clipped　Covenant's　forehead。　But　that　sent　him　tumbling　backward　down　the　hill。
　He　caught　himself；　got　…　to　his　knees。　When　he　raised　a　hand　to　his　head；　he　found　that　he　was　bleeding　profusely　from　a　wound　in　the　center　of　his　forehead。
　He　could　feel　old　hate　and　death　seeping　into　him　from　the　blasted　earth。　Blood　ran　down　his　cheeks　like　spittle。
　The　next　moment；　Mhoram　and　Quaan　reached　Troy。　Mhoram　tore　the　staff　from　his　grasp；　Quaan　pinned　his　arms。　〃Fool）〃　the　Lord　rasped。　〃You　forget　the　Oath　of　Peace。　Loyalty　is　duel〃
　Troy　struggled　against　Quaan。　Rage　and　anguish　mottled　his　face。　〃I　haven't　sworn　any　Oath！　Let　go　of　me！〃
　〃You　are　the　Warmark　of　the　Warward；〃　said　Mhoram　dangerously。　〃The　Oath　of　Peace　binds。　But　if　you　cannot　refrain　from　murder　for　that　reason；　refrain　because　the　Despiser's　army　is　destroyed。　Fleshharrower　hangs　dead　on　the　gibbet　of　Gallows　Howe。〃
　〃Do　you　call　that　victory？　We've　been　decimated）　What　good　is　a　victory　that　costs　so　much？〃　Troy's　fury　rose　like　weeping。　〃It　would　have　been　better　if　we'd　lost！　Then　it　wouldn't　have　been　such　a　waste！〃　The　passion　in　his　throat　made　him　gasp　for　air　as　if　he　were　asphyxiating　on　the　reek　of　Covenant's　perfidy。
　But　Lord　Mhoram　was　unmoved。　He　caught　Troy　by　the　breastplate　and　shook　him。　〃Then　refrain　because　the　High　Lord　is　not　dead。〃
　〃Not？〃　Troy　panted。　〃Not　dead？〃
　〃We　hear　her　battle　even　now。　Do　you　not　prehend　the　sound？　Even　as　we　listen；　she　struggles　against　dead　Kevin。　The　Staff　sustains　her…and　he　has　not　the　might　she　believed　of　him。　But　the　proof　of　her　endurance　is　here；　in　the　Unbeliever　himself。　She　is　his　summoner…he　will　remain　in　the　Land　until　her　death。　So　it　was　when　Drool　Rockworm　first　called　him。
　〃She's　still　fighting？〃　Troy　gaped　at　the　idea。　He　seemed　to　regard　it　as　the　conclusive　evidence　of　Covenant's　treachery。　But　then　he　turned　to　Mhoram　and　cried；　〃We've　got　to　help　her！〃

　At　this；　Mhoram　flinched。　A　wave　of　pain　broke　through　his　face。　In　a　constricted　voice；　he　asked；　〃How？〃
　〃How？〃　Troy　fumed。　〃Don't　ask　me　how。　You're　the　Lord！　We　have　got　to　help　her！〃
　The　Lord　pulled　himself　erect；　clenched　his　staff　for　support。　〃We　are　fifty　leagues　from　Rivenrock。　A　night　and　a　day　would　pass　before　any　Ranyhyn　could　carry　us　to　the　foot　of　the　cliff。　Then　Bannor　would　be　required　to　guide　us　into　the　mountain　in　search　of　the　battle。　Perhaps　the　effects　of　the　battle　have　destroyed　all　approaches　to　it。　Perhaps　they　would　destroy　us。　Yet　if　we　gained　the　High　Lord；　we
　would　have　nothing　to　offer　her　but　the　frail　strength　of　two　Lords。　With　the　Staff　of　Law；　she　far　surpasses　us。　How　can　we　help　her？〃
　They　faced　each　other…as　if　they　met　mind　to　mind　across　Troy's　eyelessness。　Mhoram　did　not　falter　under　the　Warmark's　rage。　The　hurt　of　his　inadequacy　showed　clearly　in　his　face；　but　he　neither　denied　nor　cursed　at　his　weakness。
　Though　Troy　trembled　with　urgency；　he　had　to　take　his　demand　elsewhere。
　He　swung　toward　Covenant。　〃You！〃　he　shouted　stridently。　〃If　you're　too　much　of　a　coward　to　do　anything　yourself；　at　least　give　me　a　chance　to　help　her！　Give　me　your　ring！…I　can　feel　it　from　here。　Give　it　to　me！　e　on；　you　bastard。　It's　her　only　chance。〃
　Kneeling　on　the　dead；　sabulous　dirt　of　the　Howe；　Covenant　looked　up　at　Troy　through　the　blood　in　his　eyes。　For　a　time；　he　was　unable　to　answer。　Troy's　adjuration　seemed　to　drop　on　him　like　a　rockfall。　It　swept　away　his　last　defense；　and　left　bare　his　final　shame。　He　should　have　been　able　to　save　Elena。　He　had　the　power；　it　pulsed　like　a　wound　on　his　wedding　finger。　But　he　had　not　used　it。　Ignorance　was　no　excuse。　His　claim　of　futility　no　longer　covered　him。
　The　barren　atmosphere　of　the　Howe　ached　in　his　chest　as　he　climbed　to　his　feet。　Though　he　could　hardly　see　where　he　was　going；　he　started　up　the　hill。　The　exertion　made　his　head　hurt　as　if　there　were　splinters　of　bone　jabbing　his　brain；　and　his　heart　quivered。　A　silent　voice　cried　out　to　him；　No！　No！　But　he　ignored　it。　With　his　halfhand；　he　fumbled　at　the　ring。　It　seemed　to　resist　him…he　had　trouble　gripping　it　but　as　he　reached　Troy　he　finally　tore　it　from　his　finger。　In　a　wet　voice；　as　if　his　mouth　were　full　of　blood；　he　said；　〃Take　it。　Save　her。〃　He　put　the　band　in　Troy's　hand。
　The　touch　of　the　pulsing　ring　exalted　Troy。　Clenching　his　fingers　around　it；　he　turned；　ran　fearlessly　to　the　hillcrest。　He　searched　quickly　with　his　ears；　located　the　direction　of　Rivenrock；　faced　the　battle。　Like　a　titan；　he　swung　his　fist　at　the　heavens；　power
　flamed　from　the　white　gold　as　if　it　were　answering　his　passion。　In　a　livid　voice；　he　cried；　〃Elena！　Elena！〃
　Then　the　tall　white　singer　was　at　his　side。　The　music　took　on　a　forbidding　note　that　spread　involuntary　stasis　like　a　mist　over　the　hilltop。　Everyone　froze；　lost　the　power　of　movement。
　In　the　stillness；　Caerroil　Wildwood　lifted　his　gnarled　scepter。　〃No；〃　he　trilled；　〃I　cannot　permit　this。　It　is　a　breaking　of　Law。　And　you　forget　the　price　that　is　owed　to　me。　Perhaps　when　you　have　gained　an　incondign　mastery　over　the　wild　magic；　you　will　use　it　to　recant　the　price。〃　With　his　scepter；　he　touched　Troy's　upraised　fist；　the　ring　dropped　to　the　ground。　As　it　fell；　all　the　heat　and　surge　of　its　power　faded。　It　looked　like　mere　metal　as　it　struck　the　lifeless　earth；　rolled　lightly　along　the　music；　and　stopped　near　Covenant's　feet。
　〃I　will　not　permit　it；〃　the　singer　continued。　〃The　promise　is　irrevocable。　In　the　names　of　the　One　Tree　and　the　One　Forest…in　the　name　of　the　unforgiving　Deep…I　claim　the　price　of　my　aid。〃　With　a　solemn　gesture　like　the　sound　of　distant　horns；　he　touched　his　scepter　to　Troy's　head。　〃Eyeless　one；　you　have　promised　payment。　I　claim　your　life。〃
　Lord　Mhoram　strove　to　protest。　But　the　singer's　stasis　held　him。　He　could　do　nothing　but　watch　as　Troy　began　to　change。
　〃I　claim　you　to　be　my　disciple；〃　the　singer　hummed。　〃You　shall　be　Caer…Caveral；　my　help　and　hold。　From　me　you　shall　learn　the　work　of　a　Forestal；　root　and　branch；　seed　and　sap　and　leaf　and　all。　Together　we　will　walk　the　Deep；　and　I　will　teach　you　the　songs　of　the　trees；　and　the　names　of　all　the　old；　brave；　wakeful　woods；　and　the　ancient　forestry　of　thought　and　mood。　While　trees　remain；　we　will　steward　together；　cherishing　each　new　sprout；　and　wreaking　wood's　revenge　on　each　hated　human　intrusion。　Forget　your　foolish　friend。　You　cannot　succor　her。　CaerCaveral；　remain　and　serve！〃
　The　song　molded　Troy's　form。　Slowly；　his　legs　grew　together。　His　feet　began　to　send　roots　into　the　soil。　His　apparel　turned　to　thick　dark　moss。　He　became　an　old
　stump　with　one　last　limb　upraised。　From　his　fist　green　leaves　uncurled。
　Softly；　the　singer　concluded；　〃Together　we　will　restore　life　to　Gallows　Howe。〃　Then　he　turned　toward　the　Lords　and　Covenant。　The　silver　brilliance　of　his　eyes　increased；　dimming　even　the　orcrest　fire；　and　he　sang　in　a　tone　of　dewy　freshness：
　Ax　and　fire　leave　me　dead。
　I　know　the　hate　of　hands　grown　bold。　Depart　to　save　your　heart…sap's　red：
　My　hate　knows　neither　rest　nor　weal
　As　the　words　fluted　through　them；　he　disappeared　into　the　music　as　if　he　had　wrapped　it　about　him　and　passed　beyond　the　range　of　sight。　But　the　warning　melody　lingered　behind　him　like　an　echo　in　the　air；　repeating　his　mand　and　repeating　it　until　it　could　not　be　forgotten。
　Gradually；　like　figures　lumbering　stiffly　out　of　a　dream；　the　people　on　the　hilltop　began　to　move　again。　Quaan　and　Amorine　hastened　to　the　mossy　stump。　Grief　filled　their　faces。　But　they　had　endured　too　much；　struggled　too　hard；　in　their　long　ordeal。　They　had　no　strength　left　for　horror　or　protest。　Amorine　stared　as　if　she　could　not　prehend　what　had　happened；　and　tears　glistened　in　Quaan's　old　eyes。　He　called；　〃Hail；　Warmark！〃　But　his　voice　sounded　weak　and　dim　on　the　Howe；　and　he　said　no　more。　。
　Behind　them；　Lord　Mhoram　sagged。　His　hands　trembled　as　he　held　up　his　staff　in　mute　farewell。　Lord　Callindrill　joined　him；　and　they　stood　together　as　if　they　were　leaning　on　each　other。
　Covenant　dropped　numbly　to　his　knees　to　pick　up　his　ring。
　He　reached　for　it　like　an　acolyte　bending　his　forehead　to　the　ground；　and　when　his　fingers　closed　on　it；　he　slid　it　into　place　on　his　wedding　finger。　Then；　with　both　hands；　he　tried　to　wipe　the　blood　out　of　his　eyes。
　But　as　he　made　the　attempt；　a　blast　from　Rivenrock
　staggered　the　air。　The　mountain　groaned　as　if　it　were　grievously　wounded。　The　concussion　threw　him　on　his　face　in　the　dirt。　Blackness　filled　the　remains　of　his　sight　as　if　it　were　flooding　into　him　from　the　barren　Howe。　And　behind　it　he　heard　the　blast　howling　like　the　livid　triumph　of　fiends。
　A　long　tremor　passed　through　the　Deep；　and　after　it　came　an　extended　shattering　sound；　as　if　the　whole　cliff　of　Rivenrock　were　crumbling。　People　moved；　voices　called　back　and　forth。　But　Covenant　could　not　hear　them　clearly。　His　ears　were　deluged　by　tumult；　a　yammering；　multitudinous　yell　of