df.therunelords-第113章

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　For　long　minutes；　the　three　danced　within　the　fire；　letting　it　caress　their　naked　flesh；　each　of　them　walking　around　the　edge　of　the　bonfire；　drawing　magical　signs　in　the　air；　emblems　of　blue…glowing　fire　that　clung　in　the　smoke　as　if　they　hung　on　a　castle　wall。
　It　was　an　eerie；　mesmerizing　sight。
　Then　they　began　to　whirl　and　chant　in　an　odd　dance；　as　if　each　man　himself　were　synchronizing　with　the　flames；　dancing　with　the　flickering　lights　of　the　fire；　being　one　with　it。
　Thus　each　flameweaver　weaved　and　bobbed　and　cavorted；　and　began　to　sing　a　song　of　desire；　calling；　calling。
　It　was　one　of　the　flameweaver's　greatest　powersthat　of　summoning　fell　creatures　from　the　netherworld。　Tempest　had　heard　of　such　things；　but　few　men　ever　witnessed　a　Summoning。
　Here　and　there；　men　on　the　walls　began　drawing　symbols　of　protection；　vainly　muttering　half…remembered　spells。　Some　hedge　wizard　from　out　of　the　wild　began　to　draw　runes　in　the　air；　and　the　men　around　him　clustered　near　for　protection。
　Tempest　chewed　his　lip　nervously　as　the　wizards　gathered　their　powers。　Now；　in　the　bonfire；　the　walls　of　flame　thickened；　being　green　things　like　no　earthly　fire。　A　luminous　portal　was　forming。
　In　another　moment；　Tempest　saw　shapes　materialize　within　that　light…white　flaming　salamanders　from　the　netherworld；　bobbing　and　leaping；　not　wholly　formed。
　At　the　sight　of　those　creatures　summoned　into　the　flames；　Cedrick　Tempest　was　chilled　to　the　bone。　His　men　could　not　fight　such　monsters。　It　was　folly　to　stay　here；　folly　to　fight。
　A　cry　of　consternation　caught　in　Tempest's　throat。　Help。　We　need　help；　he　thought。
　He'd　hardly　thought　this；　when　he　spotted　a　blur　to　the　east　of　the　castle；　someone　rushing　over　the　downs；　returning　from　Tor　Loman。　He　hoped　it　was　King　Orden；　pleaded　to　the　Powers　that　Orden　had　returned　victorious。
　But　the　man　racing　over　the　downs　did　not　wear　Orden's　shimmering　cape　of　green　samite。　Raj　Ahten　raced　toward　them；　his　helm　gone。
　Tempest　wondered　if　Orden　had　even　caught　the　Wolf　Lord；　then　glanced　down　into　the　keep。　Shostag　the　Axeman　was　Orden's　second。　If　Orden　had　died；　then　Shostag　should　be　up；　should　be　the　new　head　of　the　serpent。　Tempest　saw　no　sign　of　the　burly　outlaw　down　in　the　keep。
　Perhaps　Orden　still　lived；　would　e　to　fight　in　their　behalf。
　Raj　Ahten　shouted　a　mand；　ordering　his　troops　to　prepare　for　battle。
　An　old　adage　said；　〃When　Runelords　battle；　it　is　the　moners　who　die。〃　It　was　true。　The　Dedicates　in　their　well…protected　keeps；　the　mon　archers；　the　farm　boys　skirmishing　for　their　livesall　would　fall　without　notice　before　a　Runelord's　wrath。
　All　his　life；　Cedrick　Tempest　had　sought　to　be　more　than　a　moner；　to　avoid　such　a　fate。　He'd　bee　a　force　soldier　at　the　age　of　twelve；　made　sergeant　at　sixteen；　captain　of　the　guard　at　twenty…two。　In　all　those　years；　he'd　grown　accustomed　to　feeling　the　strength　of　others　in　his　arms；　to　having　the　health　of　Dedicates　flowing　in　his　blood。
　Until　now。　He　stood　in　nominal　mand　of　Longmont；　struggling　to　marshal　his　forces　against　Raj　Ahten's　troops。　Yet　he　was　little　more　than　a　moner。　In　the　battle　for　Longmont；　most　of　his　Dedicates　had　been　slaughtered。　He　had　an　endowment　of　wit；　one　of　stamina；　one　of　grace。　Nothing　more。
　His　chain　mail　weighed　on　him　heavily；　and　his　warhammer　felt　clumsy　in　his　hand。
　The　winds　sweeping　from　the　south　chilled　him；　and　he　wondered　what　this　day　would　bring。　He　cowered　behind　the　battlements。　Certainly；　he　felt　death　in　the　air。
　Yet　for　the　moment　the　preparation　for　battle　stood　at　a　standstill。　The　soldiers　and　giants　and　dogs　of　Raj　Ahten　all　kept　beyond　bowshot。　For　several　more　long　minutes；　only　the　flameweavers　worked；　dancing；　twisting；　gyrating　in　the　heart　of　their　bonfire；　one　with　the　flames；　and　the　glowing　salamanders　took　clearer　form；　being　worms　of　white　light；　adding　their　own　magical　powers　to　those　of　the　flameweavers。
　Now；　in　the　center　of　the　great　fire；　the　flameweavers　stopped　their　wild　dance　and　raised　their　hands　to　the　sky　as　one。
　The　skies　went　black　as　onyx　as　the　flameweavers　began　drawing　ropes　of　energy　from　the　heavens。　Time　and　again；　the　flameweavers　reached　into　the　sky　and　caught　the　light。　Time　and　again；　they　gathered　it　into　their　hands　and　merely　held　it；　so　that　their　hands　became　green　blazing　lights　of　their　own　that　glowed　brighter　and　brighter。
　The　hedge　wizard　muttered　and　cursed。
　The　flameweavers'　magics　took　more　than　the　mere　light　from　heaven。　For　minutes　now；　the　air　had　been　growing　colder。　Tempest　saw　that　a　rime　of　frost　began　to　cover　the　castle　walls；　and　the　haft　of　the　warhammer　in　his　hand　had　gradually　bee　stinging　cold。
　Frost　formed　along　the　groundheaviest　near　the　bonfire；　and　fanning　out　over　the　fields　and　all　around　the　army；　as　if　this　otherworldly　fire　drew　heat；　rather　than　gave　it　off。　The　flameweavers　were　drawing　the　energy　from　the　fire　so　efficiently　now　that　Tempest　imagined　that　even　he　could　have　stood　in　those　emerald　flames；　walked　through　them　unburned。
　Tempest's　teeth　chattered。　It　seemed　that　the　very　heat　of　his　body　was　beginning　to　be　sucked　from　him。　Indeed；　he　could　see　the　salamanders　more　clearly　in　the　flames　nowethereal　beings　with　tails　of　flame；　leaping　and　dancing　about；　staring　at　the　men　on　the　castle　walls。
　〃Beware　the　salamander's　eyes。　Don't　look　into　the　flames！〃　the　hedge　wizard　began　to　shout。　Tempest　recognized　the　danger。　For　when　his　eyes　met　those　pinpricks　of　flame　that　formed　the　orbs　of　a　salamander；　though　for　only　a　flickering　instant；　the　salamander　grew　more　solid　in　form　while　Tempest's　blood　ran　all　the　colder。　Men　averted　their　gaze；　studied　the　Frowth　giants　or　the　mastiffs　or　the　Invincibles　in　Raj　Ahten's　armyanything　but　the　salamanders。
　In　the　foreboding　gloom；　the　bonfire　grew　surrealbecame　a　green　flaming　world　of　its　own；　its　walls　decorated　in　fierce　runes；　the　creatures　at　its　heart　growing　in　power　with　each　passing　moment。
　The　clouds　above　had　bee　so　cold　that　a　thunderous　hail　now　began　to　fall　lightly；　bouncing　like　gravel　from　the　battlements；　pinging　against　the　helms　and　armor　of　the　castle's　defenders。
　Tempest　felt　frightened　to　the　core　of　his　soul。　He　did　not　know　what　the　flameweavers　might　try。　Would　they　simply　suck　the　life　heat　from　the　men　on　the　walls？　Or　would　they　send　gouts　of　fire　lancing　into　the　ranks？　Or　did　they　have　some　scheme　that　was　even　more　nefarious？
　As　if　to　answer　his　question；　one　flameweaver　suddenly　stopped　his　gyrations　among　the　heart　of　the　emerald　flames。　For　a　long　moment；　ropes　of　green　energy　coiled　from　the　skies；　falling　into　each　of　his　hands。　Now；　the　skies　all　around　grew　blacker　than　the　darkest　night。　Distantly；　thunder　grumbled；　yet　if　lightning　flashed；　Tempest　never　saw　it。
　In　that　moment；　it　seemed　as　if　all　time；　all　sound；　suddenly　stilled　in　expectation。
　Then　the　flameweaver　pacted　the　energy　in　his　hand；　as　if　he　were　forming　a　snowball；　and　hurled　a　green　bolt　of　fire　toward　the　castle　walls。　Immediately　the　flameweaver　dropped　back；　as　if　spent。
　The　green　bolt　exploded　into　the　drawbridge　with　a　sound　of　thunder；　as　if　answering　the　heavens。　The　castle　rattled　under　the　impact；　and　Tempest　grasped　a　merlon　for　support。　The　ancient　earth　spells　that　bound　the　oak　planks　and　stone　of　the　bridge　were　supposed　to　resist　fire。　Even　the　touch　of　the　elemental　some　fifteen　minutes　earlier　had　only　barely　charred　the　wood　of　the　bridge。
　But　never　was　anything　made　to　resist　an　accursed　fire　like　this。　The　green　flames　smote　the　iron　crossbars　on　the　bridge；　then　raced　up　the　metal；　burning　the　iron　with　a　fierce　light；　racing　up　the　chains　that　held　the　drawbridge　closed。　Wondrously；　the　flames　did　not　scorch　the　wooden　planks　of　the　bridge；　did　not　burn　the　stone　casements　around　it。　Instead；　they　ate　only　the　iron；　burned　only　iron。
　In　horror；　Cedrick　Tempest　imagined　how　the　touch　of　that　flame　would　have　affected　an　armored　warrior。
　With　a　creaking　sound；　the　bridge　fell　open。
　Tempest　shouted；　ordering　defenders　down　from　the　walls；　to　bolster　the　troops　behind　the　ruined　bridge。　Three　hundred　knights　were　down　in　the　bailey；　mounted　on　warhorses