tw.togreenangeltower2-第169章

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es。
　　　　　　　The　thing　paused；　flickering　and　shifting。　It　seemed　saggingly　weary；　like　a　butterfly　newly　emerged　from　a　cocoon。
　　　　　　　Pryrates　took　a　step　back　and　averted　his　face。　〃I　have　。。。　I　have　done　what　you　asked；　mighty　one。〃　His　smug　grin　was　gone：　the　priest　had　willingly　opened　the　door；　but　what　had　entered　shocked　even　him。　He　took　a　deep　breath　and　appeared　to　find　some　core　of　strength。　His　face　again　became　feral。　〃The　hour　is　e…but　it　is　not　your　hour；　it　is　mine。　How　could　I　trust　one　who　hated　every　living　thing　to　keep　its　bargain？　I　knew　that　once　you　had　no　need　of　me；　your　promises　would　be　wind　in　darkness。〃　He　spread　his　wide…sleeved　arms。　〃Mortal　I　may　be；　but　I　am　no　fool。　You　gave　me　the　Words　of　Changing；　thinking　them　a　toy　that　would　keep　me　childishly　amused　as　I　did　your　bidding。　But　I　have　learned；　too。　Those　Words　will　bee　your　cage；　and　then　you　will　be　my　servant。　All　creation　will　bend　to　you…but　you　will　bow　to　me！〃
　　　　　　　The　unstable　thing　at　the　room's　center　eddied　like　blown　smoke；　but　its　black；　scarlet…streaming　heart　remained　solid。　Pryrates　began　to　chant　loudly　in　something　only　recognizable　as　language　because　of　the　empty　spaces　between　noises。　The　alchemist　seemed　to　change；　reeling　in　the　red…shot　darkness　that　surrounded　the　king　like　a　fog；　his　limbs　curled　and　snapped　in　a　ghastly；　serpentine　way；　then　he　faded　into　a　coiling　shadow；　a　wide　rope　of　blackness　that　drifted　around　the　place　where　the　king　or　whatever　had　devoured　him　now　stood。　The　shadowy　coils　tightened　around　the　smoldering　heart。　The　world　seemed　to　bend　farther　inward；　distorting　the　two　shapes　until　only　flame　and　steam　and　darkness　pulsed　at　the　center　of　the　bellchamber。
　　　　　　　The　whole　of　creation　seemed　to　collapse　in　on　this　place；　on　this　moment。　Simon　fell　his　own　terror　surge　out；　crackling　through　his　arms；　through　Bright…Nail　and　into　the　midst　of　the　clotted　dark。
　　　　　　　The　blackness　bulged。　Tiny　arcs　of　lightning　flickered　about　the　room。　Somewhere　outside；　Simon　knew；　the　Asu'a　of　five　centuries　before　was　burning；　its　inhabitants　dying　at　the　hands　of　Fingil's　long…dead　army。　And　what　of　everyone　else？　Was　all　Simon　knew　gone；　borne　away　by　Time's　circling　wheel？
The　lightnings　jittered　about　the　chamber。　Something　pulsed　at　the　center；　a　storm　of　fire　and　thunderheads　that　suddenly　gaped；　filling　the　room　with　blinding　light。　Pryrates；　his　real　form　restored；　staggered　backward　out　of　the　beating　radiance；　which　promptly　collapsed　back　into　shadow。　For　a　moment　the　priest　raised　his　arms　triumphantly　over　his　head；　then　he　teetered　and　dropped　to　his　knees。　A　vaguely　manlike　form　coalesced　out　of　the　darkness　and　stood　over　him；　a　scarlet　suggestion　of　a　face　fluttering　atop　its　misshapen　head。　
　　　　　　　Pryrates　shuddered　and　wept。　〃Forgive　me！　Forgive　my　arrogance；　my　foolishness！　Oh；　please。　Master；　forgive　me！〃　He　crawled　toward　the　thing；　banging　his　forehead　against　the　almost　invisible　floor。　〃I　can　still　do　you　great　service！　Remember　what　you　promised　me。　Lord…that　if　I　served　you　well　I　would　be　first　among　mortals。〃
The　thing　retained　its　grip　on　shifting　Sorrow；　but　extended　its　other　blackened　hand　until　it　touched　the　alchemist。　The　fingers　cupped　his　smooth　wet　head。　A　voice　more　powerful　than　the　bell；　as　ragged　and　deadly　as　the　hiss　of　freezing　wind；　scraped　through　the　darkness。　Despite　everything　else　that　had　happened；　Simon's　eyes　filled　with　frightened　tears　at　the　sound　of　it。

〃YES。　YOU　WILL　BE　FIRST。〃

　　　　　　　Jets　of　steam　lifted　from　beneath　the　king's　fingers。　Pryrates　shrieked　and　threw　up　his　arms；　grabbing　at　the　hand；　but　the　king　did　not　move　and　Pryrates　could　not　free　himself。　Runnels　of　flame　sped　down　the　alchemist's　robe。　Above　him；　the　king's　face　was　an　indistinct　lump　of　darkness；　but　eyes　and　ragged　mouth　blazed　scarlet。　The　priest's　scream　was　a　sound　no　human　throat　should　have　loosed。　Vapors　enveloped　him；　but　Simon　saw　his　threshing　arms　steaming；　cracking；　shriveling　into　wag…　gling　things　like　tree　limbs。　After　a　long　moment；　the　priest；　all　bones　and　burning　tatters；　fell　to　the　floor　and　twitched　like　a　smashed　cricket。　The　jerking　movements　slowed；　then　stopped。
　　　　　　　The　thing　that　had　been　Elias　slumped；　head　down；　so　that　nothing　could　be　seen　of　it　but　shadow。　Still；　Simon　could　feel　it　drinking　the　energies　that　raced　through　Bright…Nail；　Thorn；　and　Sorrow；　regaining　the　strength　to　control　its　stolen　body。　Pryrates　had　hurt　it；　somehow；　but　Simon　could　sense　that　it　would　be　only　the　work　of　moments　before　it　recovered。　He　felt　a　tiny　flutter　of　hope；　and　tried　to　let　go　of　his　sword　hilt；　but　it　was　as　much　a　part　of　him　as　his　arm。　There　was　no　escape。
As　though　it　sensed　his　attempt　to　break　free；　the　black　thing　looked　up　at　him；　and　even　as　his　heart　stumbled　and　almost　failed；　he　could　glean　its　implacable　thought。　It　had　smashed　Time　itself　to　return。　Even　the　mortal　priest；　no　matter　what　powers　he　had　wielded；　would　not　have　been　allowed　to　close　the　door　again…what　possible　chance　could　Simon　have？
　　　　　　　In　this　moment　of　horror；　Simon　suddenly　felt　the　shock　of　the　dragon　blood　that　had　once　scorched　his　flesh　and　changed　him。　He　stared　at　the　unsteady　black　shape　that　had　been　Elias；　the　ruined　husk　and　its　fiery　occupant；　and　felt　an　answering　stab　of　pain　where　the　dragon's　black　essence　had　scarred　him。　Through　the　pulsing　unlight　that　moved　between　Bright…Nail　and　Sorrow；　Simon　felt　not　only　the　all…consuming　hatred　that　had　been　the　blood　of　the　Storm　King's　deathly　exile；　but　also　Ineluki's　terrible；　mad　loneliness。
　　　　　　　He　loved　his　people；　Simon　thought。　He　gave　his　life　for　them　but　did　not　die。
　　　　　　　Staring　helplessly　across　the　short　distance　between　them；　watching　as　the　thing　regathered　its　strength；　Simon　remembered　the　vision　Leieth　had　shown　him　of　Ineluki　beside　the　great　pool。　Such　shattering　unhappiness　had　been　in　that　face；　but　the　determination　had　been　a　mirror　of　Eahlstan's　as　he　had　sat　in　his　chair　and　waited　for　the　terrible　worm　he　knew　he　must　meet；　the　dragon　that　he　knew　would　slay　him。　They　were　somehow　the　same；　Ineluki　and　Eahlstan；　doing　what　must　be　done；　though　life　itself　was　the　price。　And　Simon　was　no　different。
Sorrow。　His　thoughts　flittered　and　died　like　moths　in　a　flame；　but　he　clung　to　this　one。　Ineluki　named　his　sword　Sorrow。　Why　did　she　show　me　that？
　　　　　　　Something　was　moving　af　the　edge　of　his　vision。　Binabik　and　Miriamele；　freed　by　Pryrates'　death；　reeled　a　few　steps　forward。　Miriamele　fell　to　her　knees。　Binabik　staggered　closer；　head　held　low　as　though　he　walked　into　a　powerful　wind。
　　　　　　　〃You　will　destroy　this　world；〃　the　troll　gasped。　Although　his　mouth　was　stretched　wide；　his　words　seemed　quiet　as　the　whir　of　velvety　wings。　〃You　have　lost　your　belonging；　Ineluki。　There　will　be　nothing　for　your　governing。　You　do　not　belong　here！〃
　　　　　　　The　clot　of　darkness　turned　to　look　at　him；　then　raised　a　flickering　hand。　Simon；　seeing　Binabik　quail　before　the　destroying　touch；　felt　his　fear　and　hatred　rise　anew。　He　fought　against　that　surge　of　loathing；　although　he　did　not　know　why。
　　　　　　　Hatred　kept　him　alive　in　the　dark　places。　Five　centuries；　burning　in　emptiness。　Haired　is　all　he　has。　And　I　have　hated；　too。　I　have　felt　like　him。　We　are　the　same。
　　　　　　　Simon　struggled　to　keep　the　image　of　the　living　Ineluki's　suffering　face　before　him。　That　was　the　truth　beneath　this　horrible；　burning　thing。　No　creature　in　all　the　cosmos　deserved　what　had　happened　to　the　Storm　King。
〃I'm　sorry；〃　he　whispered　to　the　face　in　his　memory。　〃You　should　not　have　suffered　so。〃
The　surge　of　energy　from　Bright…Nail　suddenly　grew　less。　The　thing　that　held　Sorrow　turned　back　to　him；　and　waves　of　terror　broke　over　Simon　again。　His　heart　was　being　crushed。
〃No；〃　he　gasped；　and　groped　inside　himself　for　a　solid　place　to　stand　and　live。　〃I　will　。。。　fear　you；　but　I　。。。　will　not　hate　you。〃
　　　　　　　There　came　a　still　instant　that　seemed　like　years。　Then　Sir　Camaris　rose　slowly　from　his　knees　and　stood；　swaying。　In　his　hands；　Thorn　still　throbbed　with　blackness；　but　Simon　felt　the　drain　of　its　forces　weaken；　as　though　what　he　himself　felt　had　somehow　run　down　through　the　point