df.therunelords-第87部分

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　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　blight　on　the　land；　the　charred　ruins　of　the　city　before　the　castle；　the　burned　farmhouses　dotting　the　downs。
　The　hills　and　mountains　to　the　north　and　northwest　of　Longmont　were　still　part　of　the　Dunnwood；　covered　in　oak　and　aspen　and　pine。　But　the　hills　south　of　the　castle　undulated　like　huge；　gentle　waves。　Grasslands；　orchards；　vineyards；　and　gardens　covered　these　hills。
　Fences　made　of　piled　stones　or　hedgerows　of　sturdy　thorns　divided　the　land　into　squares　and　rectangles；　each　of　different　colors；　like　the　rags　in　a　quilt。
　But　the　land　lay　empty　now。　Wherever　a　farmhouse　or　a　barn　or　a　dovecote　had　stood；　now　there　squatted　only　a　blackened　ruin；　like　an　open　sore　upon　the　land。　All　the　gardens　and　orchards　had　been　harvested。　Not　a　cow　or　horse　or　pig　or　duck　could　be　seen　in　the　fields。
　Myrrima　understood　why　the　people　of　Longmont　had　done　it；　why　the　soldiers　had　burned　the　town；　salted　their　own　wells。　They　would　not　give　succor　to　Heredon's　enemies。　So　they　had　destroyed　everything　of　value　near　the　castle。
　This　land。。。looked　too　much　like　the　fertile　fields　of　Bannisferre。　That　was　why　Myrrima　mourned　it。　Seeing　the　houses　black；　the　fields　empty；　gave　her　a　chill；　for　it　seemed　a　portent　of　the　future。
　When　the　wagon　reached　the　castle　gates；　the　gates　stood　closed。　The　guards　nervously　watched　the　fields　and　hills　to　the　west。
　Seeing　the　men　who　stood　on　those　walls；　Myrrima　became　even　more　nervous。　If　most　of　those　defenders　were　mon　boys　like　those　she　rode　with；　how　could　Orden　hope　to　defend　himself　against　Raj　Ahten's　Invincibles？
　〃Who　are　you？　Where　do　you　hail　from？〃　a　guard　at　the　gate　asked　gruffly。
　〃Bannisferre；〃　Wyeth　Able　shouted；　raising　his　bow。　〃We've　e　to　avenge　the　deaths　of　our　people。〃
　Above　the　gates；　on　the　castle　wall；　stepped　a　man　with　a　broad　face；　wide…set　smoldering　eyes。　He　was　dressed　in　full　armor。　His　fine　breastplate　was　enameled　with　the　image　of　the　green　knight；　and　he　wore　a　cape　of　shimmering　green　samite；　embroidered　with　gold。
　King　Orden。
　〃Can　you　gentlemen　hit　anything　with　those　bows？〃　Orden　asked。　〃Raj　Ahten's　soldiers　move　quickly。〃
　〃I've　dropped　my　share　of　pigeons；〃　Wyeth　answered。
　Orden　jutted　a　chin　at　Wyeth's　portly　figure。　〃I'd　say　you'd　dropped　more　than　your　share　of　pigeons。　Wele。〃
　Then　his　eyes　lighted　on　Myrrima；　and　there　was　such　admiration　in　them　that　his　glance　took　her　breath　away。
　〃And　what　have　we　here；　a　swordswoman？　A　noble？〃
　Myrrima　looked　down　at　her　hands　folded　in　her　lap；　more　from　shyness　than　from　respect。
　〃A　friend。。。of　your　son's。　I'm　betrothed　to　one　of　your　guardBorenson。　I　came　to　be　with　him。　I'm　no　swordswoman；　but　I　can　cook　a　good　stew；　and　I　can　wrap　bandages。〃
　〃I　see；〃　Orden　said　softly。　〃Borenson　is　a　worthy　man。　I　had　not　known　he　was　betrothed。〃
　〃Only　recently；〃　Myrrima　said。
　〃Milady；　he　has　not　reached　the　castle　yet。　I'd　hoped　he　would　have　e　by　now；　but　I　left　him　with　an　assignment　at　Castle　Sylvarresta。　I　hope　to　see　him　shortly；　but　t