srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第89章

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　〃The　sun　stands　overhead；〃　Mhoram　answered。　〃We　have　survived　the　vortex　and　its　creatures。　But　now　Fleshharrower's　army　enters　Doriendor　Corishev。　We　must　depart　swiftly。〃
　〃Mhoram；〃　Troy　coughed　hoarsely。　〃Mhoram。〃　Stumbling　forward；　he　fell　into　the　Lord's　arms。
　Mhoram　held　him　in　a　forting　grip。　Without　a　word；　the　Lord　supported　him　until　some　of　his　pain　passed；　and　he　began　to　breathe　more　easily。　Then　Mhoram　said　quietly；　〃I　see　that　you　slew　one　of　the　Despiser's　birds。　You　have　done　well；　my　friend。　Lord　Callindrill　and　I　remain。　Perhaps　seventy　of　the　Bloodguard　survive。　First　Haft　Amorine　has　preserved
　a　handful　of　her　warriors。　After　the　passing　of　the　vortex；　all　the　Ranyhyn　returned。　They　saved　many　horses。　My　friend；　we　must　go。〃
　Some　of　Mhoram's　steadiness　reached　Troy；　and　he　began　to　regain　control　of　himself。　He　did　not　want　to　be　a　burden　to　the　Lord。　Slowly；　he　drew　back；　stood　on　his　own。　Covering　his　burned　forehead　with　his　hands　as　if　he　were　trying　to　hide　his　eyelessness；　he　said；　〃I've　got　to　tell　you　the　rest　of　my　plan。〃
　〃May　it　wait？　We　must　depart　at　once。〃
　〃Mhoram；〃　Troy　moaned　brokenly；　〃I　can't　see。〃
　
　
　TWENTY：　Garroting　Deep
　
　Two　days　later…shortly　after　noon　on　the　day　before　the　dark　of　the　moon…Lord　Mhoram　led　the　Warward　to　Cravenhaw；　the　southmost　edge　of　Garroting　Deep。　In　noon　heat；　the　army　had　swung　stumbling　and　lurching　like　a　dying　man　around　the　foothills；　and　had　marched　northward　to　a　quivering　halt　before　the　very　lips　of　the　fatal　Deep。　The　warriors　stood　on　a　wide；　grassy　plain…the　first　healthy　green　they　had　seen　since　leaving　the　South　Plains。　Ahead　was　the　Forest。　Perhaps　half　a　league　away　on　either　side；　east　and　west；　were　mountains；　steep　and　forbidding　peaks　like　the　jaws　of　the　Deep。　And　behind　was　the　army　of　moksha　Fleshharrower。
　The　Giant…Raver　drove　his　forces　savagely。　Despite　the　delay　at　Doriendor　Corishev；　he　was　now　no　more　than　two　leagues　away。
　That　knowledge　tightened　Lord　Mhoram's　cold；　weary　dread。　He　had　so　little　time　in　which　to　attempt　Warmark　Troy's　plan。　From　this　position；　there　were　no　escapes　and　no　hopes　except　the　one　Troy　had　envisioned。　If　Mhoram　were　not　successful…successful　soon！…the　Warward　would　be　crushed　between　the　Raver　and　Garroting　Deep。
　Yet　he　doubted　that　he　could　succeed　at　all；　regardless　of　the　time　at　his　disposal。　In　a　year　or　a　score　of　years；　he　might　still　fail。　The　demand　was　so　great…　Even　the　vortex　of　trepidation　had　not　made　him　feel　so　helpless。
　Yet　he　shuddered　when　he　thought　of　the　vortex。　Although　Troy　had　saved　virtually　all　the　Warward；　the　men　and　women　who　had　remained　in　the　masterplace　had　paid　heavily　for　their　survival。　Something　in　Lord　Callindrill　had　been　damaged　by　Fleshharrower's　attack。　The　strain　of　bat　against　bitter　ill　had　humiliated　him　in　some　way；　taught　him　a　deep　distrust　of　himself。　He　had　not　been　able　to　resist　the　fear。　Now　his　clear　soft　eyes　were　clouded；　pained。　When　he　melded　his　thoughts　with　Lord　Mhoram；　he　shared　knowledge　and　concern；　but　not　strength；　he　no　longer　believed　in　his　strength。
　In　her　own　way；　First　Haft　Amorine　suffered　similarly。　During　the　Raver's　onslaught；　she　had　held　the　collapsing　remains　of　her　mand　together　by　the　simple　force　of　her　courage。　She　had　taken　the　terror　of　her　warriors　upon　herself。　Every　time　one　of　them　fell　under　the　power　of　the　vortex；　or　died　in　the　talons　of　the　birds；　she　had　tightened　her　grip　on　the　survivors。　And　after　that；　when　the　sirocco　had　passed；　she　began　a　frantic　search　for　Warmark　Troy。　The　perverted；　manlike　creatures　that　rushed　into　the　ruins　…some　with　claws　for　fingers；　others　with　cleft　faces　and　limbs　covered　with　suckers；　still　others　with　extra　eyes　or　arms；　all　of　them　warped　in　some　way　by　the　power　of　the　Stone…steadily　brought　more　and　more　of　the　city　under　their　control。　But　she　fought　her　way　through　them　as　if　they　were　mere　shades　to　haunt　her　while　she　hunted。　The　idea　of　following　Mehryl　was　hers。
　But　the　Warmark's　blindness　was　too　much　for　her。　The　cause　of　it　was　clear。　The　slain　bird's　corrosive　blood　had　ravaged　his　face；　and　that　burning　had　undone　the　Land's　gift　of　sight。　Neither　of　the　Lords　had　any　hurtloam；　rillinlure；　or　other　arts　of　healing
　with　which　to　counteract　the　hurt。　When　she　understood　Troy's　plight；　she　appeared　to　lose　herself；　independent　will　deserted　her。　Until　she　rejoined　the　Warward；　she　followed　Lord　Mhoram's　requests　and　instructions　blankly；　like　a　puppet　from　which　all　authority　had　evaporated。　And　when　she　saw　Hiltmark　Quaan　again；　she　transferred　herself　to　him。　As　she　told　him　of　Troy's　plan；　she　was　so　numb　that　she　did　not　even　falter。
　The　Warmark　himself　had　said　nothing　more　after　describing　his　final　strategy。　He　wrapped　himself　in　his　blindness　and　allowed　Mhoram　to　place　him　on　Mehryl's　back。　He　did　not　ask　about　Fleshharrower's　army；　though　only　the　speed　of　the　Ranyhyn　saved　him　and　his　panions　from　being　trapped　in　the　city。　Despite　the　scream　of　frustration　which　roared　after　the　riders；　he　carried　himself　like　an　invalid　who　had　turned　his　face　to　the　wall。
　And　Lord　Mhoram　also　suffered。　After　the　battle　of　the　masterplace；　fatigue　and　dread　had　forced　tenacious　fingers　into　the　crevices　and　crannies　of　his　soul；　so　that　he　could　not　shake　them　off。　Yet　he　helped　the　First　Haft　and　Lord　Callindrill　as　best　he　could。　He　knew　that　only　time　and　victory　could　heal　their　wounds；　but　he　absorbed　those　parts　of　their　burdens　which　came　within　his　reach；　and　gave　back　to　them　all　the　consolation　he　possessed。
　There　was　nothing　he　could　do　to　ease　the　shock　which　Amorine's　report　of　the　Warmark's　final　plan　gave　Quaan。　As　she　spoke；　the　Hiltmark's　concern　for　her　gave　way　to　a　livid　horror　on　behalf　of　the　warriors。　His　expression　flared；　and　he　erupted；　〃Madness！　Every　man　and　woman　will　be　slain！　Troy；　what　has　bee　of　you？　By　the　Seven！　TroyWarmark！〃he　hesitated　awkwardly　before　uttering　his　thought　〃Do　you　rave？　My　friend；〃　he　breathed　gripping　Troy's　shoulders；　〃how　can　you　meditate　such　folly？〃
　Troy　spoke　for　the　first　time　since　he　had　left　Doriendor　Corishev。　〃I'm　blind；〃　he　said　in　a　hollow　voice；　as　if　that　explained　everything。　〃I　can't　help　it。〃　He　pulled　himself　out　of　Quaan's　grasp；　sat　down　near　the　fire。　Locating　the　flames　by　their　heat；　he
　hunched　toward　them　like　a　man　studying　secrets　in　the　coals。
　Quaan　turned　to　Mhoram。　〃Lord；　do　you　accept　this　madness？　It　will　mean　death　for　us　all…and　destruction　for　the　Land。〃
　Quaan's　protest　made　the　Lord's　heart　ache。　But　before　he　could　find　words　for　any　answer；　Troy　spoke　suddenly。
　〃No；　he　doesn't；〃　the　Warmark　said。　〃He　doesn't　actually　think　I'm　a　Raver。〃　Inner　pain　made　his　voice　harsh。　〃He　thinks　Foul　had　a　hand　in　summoning　me…interfered　with　Atiaran　somehow　so　that　I　showed　up；　instead　of　somebody　else　who　might　have　looked　less　friendly。〃　He　stressed　the　word　looked；　as　if　sight　itself　were　inherently　untrustworthy。　〃Foul　wanted　the　Lords　to　trust　me　because　he　knew　what　kind　of　man　I　am。　Dear　God！　It　doesn't　matter　how　much　I　hate　him。　He　knew　I'm　the　kind　of　man　who　backs　into　corners　where　just　being　fallible　is　the　same　thing　as　treachery。
　〃But　you　forget　that　it　isn't　up　to　me　anymore。　I've　done　my　part…I've　put　you　where　you　haven't　got　any　choice。　Now　Mhoram　has　got　to　save　you。　It's　on　his　head。〃
　Quaan　appeared　torn　between　dismay　for　the　Warward　and　concern　for　Troy。　〃Even　a　Lord　may　be　defeated；〃　he　replied　gruffly。
　〃I'm　not　talking　about　a　Lord；〃　Troy　rasped。　〃I'm　talking　about　Mhoram。〃
　In　his　weariness；　Lord　Mhoram　ached　to　deny　this；　to　refuse　the　burden。　He　said；　〃Warmark；　of　course　I　will　do　all　that　lies　within　my　strength。　But　if　Lord　Foul　has　chosen　you　for　the　work　of　our　destruction…ah；　then；　my　friend；　all　aid　will　not　avail。　The　burden　of　this　plan　will　return　to　you　at　the　last。〃
　〃No。〃　Troy　kept　his　face　toward　the　fire；　as　if　here　reliving　the　acid　burn　which　had　blinded　him。　〃You've　given　your　whole　life　to　the　Land；　and　you're　going　to　give　it　now。〃
　〃The　Despiser　knows　me　well；〃　Mhoram　breathed。　〃He　ridicules　me　in　my　dreams。〃　He　could　hear　echoes　of　that　belittling　mirth