df.therunelords-第14部分

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　〃Wouldn't　I　be　safer　with　you？〃　Gaborn　asked。
　Borenson　considered；　nodded。　He　retrieved　his　own　horse　from　behind　the　house；　just　as　the　Days　rode　up　through　the　mist。
　〃We'll　be　back　in　a　bit；〃　Gaborn　told　Myrrima；　then　spurred　his　stallion　out　into　the　meadow　behind　her　cottage。　He　felt　uneasy　leaving　her；　with　giants　about。　Yet　he　and　Borenson　were　certainly　riding　into　danger。
　A　slight　breeze　sighed　from　the　north；　carrying　the　haze。　They　rode　toward　it；　over　green　meadows。　The　river　twisted　west；　and　they　soon　found　themselves　riding　along　the　banks　of　River　Dwindell；　on　a　hay　trail。
　Along　the　river；　the　unnatural　fog　deepened；　rising　in　a　great　cloud；　waking　it　dark；　dark　enough　so　swallows　quit　dipping　in　the　water；　and　instead　a　few　bats　began　diving　for　insects。　Fireflies　rose　like　green　sparks　out　of　the　bushes。　The　grass　along　the　river　was　deep；　lush；　but　cropped　short。
　All　along　here　in　the　floodplain　the　farmers　had　harvested　hay。　The　haycocks　stood　out　along　the　river；　like　great　rocks　in　a　sea；　and　each　time　Gaborn　saw　one　rising　from　the　mist；　he　wondered　if　it　was　a　giant；　wondered　if　a　giant　might　be　hiding　behind　it。
　Gaborn　could　smell　giants　now；　too。　Their　greasy　hair　smelled　bitter；　the　musk　and　dung　on　their　skins　overwhelming。　Mold　and　lichens　grew　on　their　aging　bodies。
　Until　a　hundred　and　twenty　years　ago；　no　one　in　all　Rofehavan　had　heard　of　Frowth　giants。　Then；　a　tribe　of　four　hundred　of　the　huge　creatures　had　e　over　the　northern　ice　one　winter；　battle…scarred；　fearful。　Many　of　them　wounded。
　The　Frowth　could　not　speak　well　in　any　human　tongue；　had　never　quite　been　able　to　municate　what　fearful　enemies　chased　them　over　the　ice。　Yet　with　a　few　gestures　and　the　odd　spoken　mand；　the　giants　had　learned　to　work　beside　men　to　some　extentlugging　huge　boulders　in　quarries；　or　trees　for　foresters。　The　rich　lords　of　Indhopal　in　particular　had　taken　to　hiring　Frowth　giants；　so　that；　in　time；　most　of　them　migrated　south。
　But　the　Frowth　excelled　in　only　one　thingmaking　war。
　Gaborn　and　Borenson　came　to　a　small　croft　on　a　hill　beneath　some　trees；　beside　the　river。　The　cottage's　windows　were　dark。　No　smoke　roiled　from　its　chimney。　A　dead　farmer　lay　half　in　the　doorway；　hand　outstretched。　His　head　lay　as　if　he'd　died　trying　to　reach　for　it　as　it　rolled　away。　The　coppery　scent　of　blood　hung　heavy　in　the　air。
　Borenson　swore；　rode　forward。　The　mist　ahead　grew　thicker。　Heavier。
　In　the　green　grass；　they　found　steaming　human　footprints。　The　grass　beneath　the　footprints　was　blackened；　dead。　Gaborn　had　never　seen　the　like。
　〃Flameweavers；〃　Borenson　said。　〃Powerful　onespowerful　enough　to　transmute　to　flame。　Five　of　them。〃
　There　were　flameweavers　in　Mystarria；　of　course；　sorcerers　who　could　warm　a　room　or　cause　a　log　to　burst　into　flame；　but　none　so　powerful　that　they　blackened　the　ground　they　trod　upon。　Not　like　this。
　These　were　creatures　of　legend；　wizards　of　such　power　that　they　could　pry　secrets　from　men's　souls；　or　summon　beings　of　terror　from　the　netherworld。
　Gaborn's　heart　pounded；　he　looked　at　Borenson；　who　was　suddenly　wary。　There　were　no　flameweavers　like　this　in　the　northern　kingdoms；　nor　so　many　Frowth　giants。　They　could　only　have　e　from　the　south。　Gaborn　tasted　the　air　again。　That　fog；　that　strange　fog；　a　thinly　disguised　smoke？　Raised　by　the　flameweavers？　How　big　an　army　did　it　hide？
　So　our　spies　were　wrong；　Gaborn　realized。　Raj　Ahten's　invasion　won't　wait　for　spring。
　The　flameweavers'　footsteps　led　north；　along　the　banks　of　the　River　Dwindell。　Raj　Ahten's　troops　must　be　marching　through　the　woods；　to　hide　their　numbers。　But　they　would　not　go　far　into　the　wood；　for　this　was　the　Dunnwood。　Wild；　old；　and　powerful。　Few　men　dared　enter　its　heart。　Even　Raj　Ahten　would　not　do　so。
　If　Gaborn　took　the　road　north；　he　could　reach　Sylvarresta　in　half　a　day。
　But　of　course　that　was　why　the　assassins　watched　the　road；　looking　to　waylay　anyone　who　sought　to　warn　King　Sylvarresta。　Gaborn　reasoned　that　given　the　nature　of　his　horse；　a　good　solid　hunter；　he　might　be　safer　riding　through　the　woods。　He　knew　the　dangers。　He'd　been　in　the　Dunnwood　before；　hunting　the　great　black　boars。
　The　giant　boars　in　the　wood　often　grew　almost　as　tall　as　Gaborn's　stallion；　and　over　the　centuries　they　had　learned　to　attack　riders。　But　there　were　more　dangerous　things　in　these　woods；　it　was　saidancient　duskin　ruins　still　guarded　by　magic；　and　the　spirits　of　those　who'd　died　here。　Gaborn　had　once　seen　such　a　spirit。
　Raj　Ahten's　men　would　be　on　warhorses；　heavy　creatures　bred　for　battle　in　the　desert；　not　for　speed　in　the　woods。
　But　even　riding　fast　through　the　woods；　it　would　take　Gaborn　a　day　to　reach　Lord　Sylvarresta。　Such　a　journey　would　be　hard　on　his　stallion。
　Meanwhile；　Gaborn's　own　father　was　not　far　south。　King　Orden　was　ing　north　for　the　autumn　hunt；　as　was　his　custom；　and　this　time　he　had　a　pany　of　over　two　thousand　soldiers。　Gaborn　was　to　have　formally　proposed　betrothal　to　Iome　Sylvarresta　in　a　week；　and　King　Orden　had　brought　an　impressive　retinue　for　his　son。
　Now　those　troops　might　well　be　needed　in　battle。
　Gaborn　raised　his　hand；　manipulated　his　fingers　quickly　in　battle　sign。　Retreat。　Warn　King　Orden。
　Borenson　looked　wary；　signed；　Where　are　you　going？
　To　warn　Sylvarresta。
　No！　Dangerous！　Borenson　signed。　Let　me　go！
　Gaborn　shook　his　head；　pointed　south。
　Borenson　glared；　signed；　I'll　go　north。　Too　dangerous　for　you！
　But　Gaborn　could　not　let　him。　He'd　intended　to　take　a　dangerous　road　to　power；　to　try　to　bee　the　kind　of　lord　who　would　win　men's　hearts。　How　better　to　win　the　hearts　of　the　people　of　Heredon；　than　to　e　to　their　aid　now？　I　must　go；　Gaborn　signed　forcefully。
　Borenson　began　to　argue　again。　Gaborn　whipped　out　his　own　saber；　aiming　just　so；　slashing　Borenson's　cheek。　The　cut　was　so　shallow；　the　soldier　could　have　got　it　shaving。
　Gaborn　fought　down　his　rage。　Almost　immediately　he　regretted　this　impetuous　act。　Yet　Borenson　knew　better　than　to　argue　with　his　prince　in　a　dangerous　situation。　Arguments　were　poison。　A　man　who　believes　he　is　doomed　to　fail　tends　to　fail。　Gaborn　would　listen　to　no　poison　arguments。
　Gaborn　pointed　south　with　his　sword；　looked　at　both　the　Days　and　Borenson　meaningfully。　With　his　free　hand；　he　signed；　Check　on　Myrrima。　If　Raj　Ahten's　troops　slaughtered　peasants　just　to　make　certain　their　force　wasn't　discovered；　Myrrima　would　be　in　danger。
　It　seemed　a　long　moment　as　Borenson　considered。　Gaborn　was　no　moner。　With　his　endowments　of　wit　and　brawn；　he　acted　more　like　a　man　than　he　did　a　child；　and　in　the　past　year；　Borenson　had　begun　treating　him　as　an　equal；　rather　than　as　a　charge。
　Perhaps　more　to　the　point；　Borenson　himself　had　to　be　torn。　Both　King　Orden　and　King　Sylvarresta　needed　to　be　warned　as　soon　as　possible。　He　couldn't　ride　two　directions　at　once。
　There　are　assassins　on　the　road；　Gaborn　reminded　him。　The　woods　are　safer。　I　will　be　safe。
　To　Gaborn's　surprise；　the　Days　turned　his　mule；　headed　back。　Gaborn　had　seldom　been　free　of　the　historian's　scrutiny。　But　the　Days'　mule　couldn't　keep　up　with　a　force　stallion。　If　he　tried　to　follow；　the　historian　would　only　get　killed。
　Borenson　reached　behind　his　saddle；　pulled　his　bow　and　quiver；　backed　his　horse；　and　handed　the　weapons　to　Gaborn。　He　whispered；　〃May　the　Glories　guide　you　safely。〃
　Gaborn　would　need　the　bow。　He　nodded；　grateful。
　When　the　men　had　disappeared　through　the　mist；　Gaborn　licked　his　lips；　his　mouth　dry　with　fear。　Preparedness　is　the　father　of　courage；　he　reminded　himself。　A　teaching　from　the　Room　of　the　Heart。　Yet　suddenly　all　that　he'd　learned　in　the　House　of　Understanding　seemed。。。inadequate。
　He　prepared　to　fight。　First　he　dismounted；　removed　his　fancy　feathered　hat；　tossed　it　to　the　ground。　It　wouldn't　do　to　ride　ahead　looking　like　a　wealthy　merchant。　He　needed　to　seem　a　humble　peasant；　without　benefit　of　endowments。
　He　reached　into　his　saddlebags；　drew　out　a　stained　cloak　of　gray；　threw　it　over　his　shoulders。　He　strung　the　bow。　He　had　no　battle…axe　to　cut　through　armoronly　his　dueling　saber；　and　the　dirk　strapped　at　his　knee。
　Gaborn　stretched　his　arms　and　shoulders；　limbering　them。　He　slid　his　saber　from　its　sheath；　as　familiar　with　its　balance　as　if　it　were　part　of　his　own　body；　then　slid　it　back　carefully。
　He　couldn't　disguise　his　horse。　The　beast　stood　too　proudly；　like　a　being　of　stone　or　iron　e　to　life。　Its　eyes　glowed　with　fierce　intelligence。
　Gaborn　whispered　in　his　horse's　ear。　〃We　must　hurry；　my　friend；　but　travel　quietly。〃
　The　horse　nodded。　Gaborn　couldn't　be　certain　how　much　it　understood。　It　couldn't　follow　a　conversation。　But　with　endowments　of　wit　from　other　horses　in　its　herd；　it　followed　several　simple　verbal　mandswhich　was　more　than　could　be　said　of　some　men。
　Gaborn　dared　not　ride　the　beast　at　first。　Instead；　he　led　it。　There　would　be　outriders；　he　knew；　both　behind　and　before　Raj　Ahten's　army。　Gaborn　didn't　want　to　be　a　silhouette　in　the　fog　for　some　archer　to　practice　on。
　He　began　running　lightly　at　a　pace　he　could　keep　up　for　days。　In　the　unnatural　fog；　the　fields　were　strangely　quiet。
　Field　mice　scurried　from　his　approach；　a　lone　crow　cawed　from　an　oak。　Sparrows　flew　up　in　a　cl