srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第76部分

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e　reached　up　to　adjust　the　sunglasses　he　no　lodger　possessed。　The　movement　was　like　an　involuntary　prayer　or　appeal。　But　neither　of　the　Lords　observed　him。　Their　faces　were　set　toward　Fleshharrower。
　Troy　almost　shouted　with　elation　when　the　GiantRaver　stopped　his　army　at　the　foot　of　the　hill。　The　halt　ran　through　his　hordes　like　a　shock；　as　if　the　force　which　drove　them　had　struck　a　wall。　The　wolves　smelled　prey；　they　sent　up　a　howl　of　frustration　at　the　halt。　Ur…viles　barked　furiously。　Warped　humans　groaned；　and　Cavewights　hopped　hungrily　from　foot　to　foot。　But　Fleshharrower's　mand　mastered　them　all。　They　spread　out　until　they　formed　a　ready　arc　around　the　entire　eastern　side　of　the　hill；　then　set　themselves　to　wait。
　When　he　was　satisfied　with　the　position　of　his　army；　the　Raver　took　a　few　steps　up　the　hill；　placed　his　fists　on　his　hips；　and　shouted　sardonically；　〃Lords！　Warriors！　I　know　you　hear　me！　Listen　to　my　words！　Surrender！　You　cannot　escape…you　are　ensnared　between　the　Desert　and　the　Deep。　I　can　eradicate　you　from　the　Earth　with　only　a　tenth　of　my　strength。　Surrender！　If　you　join　me；　I　may　be　merciful。〃　At　the　word　merciful；　a　yammer　of　protest　and　hunger　went　up　from　his　army。　He　waited　for　the　outcry　to　pass　before　he　continued：　〃If　not；　I　will　destroy　you！　I　will　burn　and　blast　your　homes。　I　will　make　Revelwood　a　charnal；　and　use　Revelstone　for　an　offal　ground。　I
　will　wreck　and　ravage　the　Land　until　Time　itself　breaks！　Hear　me　and　despair！　Surrender　or　die！〃
　At　this；　an　irresistible　impulse　caught　hold　of　the　Warmark；　frustration　and　rage　boiled　up　in　him。　Without　warning；　he　leaped　onto　the　wall。　He　braced　his　feet　to　steady　himself；　and　raised　his　fists　defiantly。　〃Fleshharrower！〃　he　shouted。　〃Vermin！　I　am　Warmark　Hile　Troy！　I　mand　here！　I　spit　in　your　face；　Raver！　You're　only　a　slave！　And　your　master　is　only　a　slave！　He's　a　slave　to　hunger；　and　he　gnaws　his　worthlessness　like　an　old　bone。　Go　back！　Leave　the　Land！　We're　free　people。　Despair　has　no　power　over　us。　But　I'll　teach　you　despair　if　you　dare　to　fight　me！〃
　Fleshharrower　snapped　an　order。　A　dozen　bowstrings　thrummed；　shafts　flew　past　Troy's　head　as　Ruel　snatched　him　down　from　the　wall。　Troy　stumbled　as　he　landed；　but　Ruel　upheld　him。　When　the　Warmark　regained　his　balance；　Mhoram　said；　〃You　took　a　grave　risk。　What　have　you　gained？〃
　〃I've　made　him　mad；〃　Troy　replied　unsteadily。　〃This　has　got　to　be　done　right；　and　I'm　going　to　do　it。　The　madder　he　gets；　the　better　off　we　are。〃
　〃Are　you　so　certain　of　what　he　will　do？〃
　　〃Yes。〃　Troy　felt　an　odd　confidence；　a　conviction
　that　he　would　not　be　proved　wrong　until　the　end。
　〃He's　already　doing　it　he's　stopped。　If　he's　mad
　enough；　he'll　attack　us　first　himself。　His　army　will　stay
　stopped。　That's　what　we　want。〃
　〃Then　I　believe　that　you　have　succeeded；〃　Lord　Callindrill　inserted　quietly。　He　was　gazing　over　the　wall　as　he　spoke。　Mhoram　and　Troy　joined　him；　and　saw　what　he　meant。
　Fleshharrower　had　retreated　until　there　was　a　flat　space　of　ground　between　himself　and　the　hill。　Around　him；　the　army　shifted。　Several　thousand　ur…viles　moved　to　form　wedges　with　their　loremasters　poised　on　both　sides　of　the　space。　There　they　waited　while　the　Giant…Raver　marked　out　a　wide　circle　in　the　dirt；　using　the　tip　of　one　of　the　loremaster's　staves。　Then　Fleshharrower　ordered　all　but　the　ur…viles　away　from　the　circle。
　When　the　space　was　cleared；　the　loremasters　began　their　work。
　Chanting　in　arhythmic　unison　like　a　mesmerized　chorus　of　dogs；　the　ur…viles　bent　their　might　forward；　into　the　hands　of　their　loremasters。　The　loremasters　thrust　the　points　of　their　staves　into　the　rim　of　Fleshharrower's　circle；　and　began　to　rock　the　irons　slowly　back　and　forth。
　A　low　buzzing　noise　became　audible。　The　ur…viles　were　singing　in　their　own　roynish　tongue；　and　their　song　made　the　flat；　hard　ground　vibrate。　Slowly；　the　buzz　scaled　upward；　as　if　a　swarm　of　huge；　mad　bees　were　emprisoned　in　the　dirt。　And　the　earth　in　the　circle　began　to　pulse　visibly。　A　change　like　an　increase　of　heat　came　over　the　rock　and　soil；　hot；　red　gleams　played　through　the　circle　erratically；　and　its　surface　seethed。　The　buzz　became　fiercer；　sharper。
　The　process　was　slow；　but　its　horrible　fascination　made　it　seem　swift　to　the　onlookers。　As　daylight　started　to　fall　out　of　the　stricken　sky；　the　buzz　replaced　it　like　a　cry　of　pain　from　the　ground　itself。　The　Raver's　circle　throbbed　and　boiled　as　if　the　dirt　within　it　were　molten。
　The　sound　tormented　Troy；　it　clawed　at　his　ears；　crawled　like　lice　over　his　flesh。　Sweat　slicked　his　eyeless　brows。　For　a　time；　he　feared　that　he　would　be　pelled　to　scream。　But　at　last　the　cry　scaled　past　the　range　of　his　senses。　He　was　able　to　turn　away；　rest　briefly。
　When　he　looked　back　toward　the　circle；　he　found　that　the　ur…viles　had　withdrawn　from　it。　Fleshharrower　stood　there　alone。　A　demonic　look　clenched　his　face　as　he　stared　into　the　hot；　red；　boiling　soil。
　In　his　hands；　he　held　one　of　the　loremasters。　It　gibbered　fearfully；　clung　to　its　stave；　but　it　could　not　break　his　grip。
　Laughing；　Flesbharrower　lifted　the　loremaster　over　his　head　and　hurled　it　into　the　circle。　As　it　hit　the　ground；　its　scream　died　in　a　flash　of　fire。　Only　its　stave　remained；　slowly　melting　on　the　surface。
　As　the　sun　set；　Fleshharrower　began　using　his　fragment　of　the　Stone　to　reshape　the　molten　iron；　forge　it　into　something　new。
　Softly；　as　if　he　feared　that　the　Giant…Raver　might　hear　him；　Troy　asked　the　Lords；　〃What's　this　for？　What's　he　doing？〃
　〃He　makes　a　tool；〃　Mhoram　whispered；　〃some　means　to　increase　or　concentrate　his　power。〃
　The　implications　of　that　gave　Troy　a　feeling　of　grim　gratification。　His　strategy　was　justified　at　least　to　the　extent　that　the　main　body　of　the　Warward　would　be　spared　this　particular　attack。　But　he　knew　that　such　justification　was　not　enough。　His　final　play　lay　like　a　dead　weight　in　his　stomach。　He　expected　to　lose　mand　of　the　Warward　as　soon　as　he　revealed　it；　it　would　appall　the　warriors　so　much　that　they　would　rebel。　After　all　his　promises　of　victory；　he　felt　like　a　false　prophet。　Yet　his　plan　was　the　Warward's　only　hope；　the　Land's　only　hope。
　He　prayed　that　Lord　Mhoram　would　be　equal　to　it。
　With　the　sunset；　his　sight　failed。　He　was　forced　to　rely　on　Mhoram　to　report　the　Raver's　progress。　In　the　darkness；　he　felt　trapped；　bereft　of　mand。　All　that　he　could　see　was　the　amorphous；　dull　glow　of　the　liquid　earth。　Occasionally；　he　made　out　flares　and　flashes　of　lurid　green　across　the　red；　but　they　meant　nothing　to　him。　His　only　consolation　lay　in　the　fact　that　Fleshharrower's　preparations　were　consuming　time。
　Along　the　wall　on　both　sides　of　him；　First　Haft　Amorine's　Eoward　kept　watch　over　the　Raver's　labors。　No　one　slept；　the　poised　threat　of　Fleshharrower's　army　transfixed　everyone。　Moonrise　did　not　ease　the　blackness；　the　dark　of　the　moon　was　only　three　nights　away。　But　the　Raver's　forge…work　was　bright　enough　to　pale　the　stars。
　During　the　whole　long　watch；　Fleshharrower　never　left　his　molten　circle。　Sometime　after　midnight；　he　retrieved　his　newly　made　scepter；　and　cooled　it　by　waving　it　in　a　shower　of　sparks　over　his　head。　Then　he　affixed　his　fragment　of　the　Stone　to　its　end。　But　when　that　was　done；　he　remained　by　the　circle。　As　night　waned　toward　day；　he　gestured　and　sang　over
　the　molten　stone；　weaving　incantations　out　of　its　hot　power。　It　lit　his　movements　luridly；　and　the　Stone　flashed　across　it　at　intervals；　giving　green　glimpses　of　his　malice。
　But　this　was　indistinct　to　Troy。　He　clung　to　his　hope。　In　the　darkness；　his　calculations　were　the　only　reality　left　to　him；　and　he　recited　them　like　counters　against　the　night。　When　the　first　slit　of　dawn　touched　him　from　the　east；　he　felt　a　kind　of　elation。
　Softly；　he　asked　for　Amorine。
　〃Warmark。〃　She　was　right　beside　him。
　〃Amorine；　listen。　That　monster　has　made　his　mistake…he's　wasted　too　much　time。　Now　we're　going　to　make　him　pay　for　it。　Get　the　warriors　out　of　here。　Send　them　after　the　Warward。　Whatever　happens；　that　Giant　won't　get　as　many　of　us　as　he　thinks。　Just　keep　one　warrior　for　every　good　horse　we　have〃
　〃Perhaps　all　should　depart　now；〃　she　replied；　〃before　the　Raver　attacks。〃
　Troy　grinned　at　the　idea。　He　could　imagine　Fleshharrower's　fury　if　the　Giant's　attack　found　Doriendor　Corishev　empty。　But　he　knew　that　he　had　not　yet　gained　enough　time。　He　answered；　〃I　want　to　squeeze　another　half　day　out　of　him。　With　the　Bloodguard　and　a　couple　hundred　warriors；　we'll　be　able　to　do　it。　Now　get　going。〃
　〃Yes；　Warmark。〃　She　left　his　side　at　once；　and　soon　he　could　hear　most　of　the　warriors　withdrawing。　He　gripped　the　wall　again；　and　stared　away　into　the　sunrise；　waiting　for　sight。
　Shortly；　he　became　aware　that　the　dry　breeze　out　of　the　south　was　stiffening。
　Then　the　haze　faded　from　his　mind。　First　he　became　able　to　see　the　ruined　wall；　then　the　hillside；　finally　he　caught　sight　of　the　waiting　army。
　It　had　not　moved　during　the　night。
　It　did　not　need　to　move。
　Fleshharrower　still　stood　beside　his　circle。　The　fire　in　the　ground　had　died；　but　before　it　failed；　he　had　used　it　to　wrap　himself　in　a　shimmering；　translucent　cocoon　of　power。　Within　the　power；　he　was　as　erect　as　an　icon。　He　held　his　scepte