fs.thefirstbookofswords-第44章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


imed　that　the　sword　rang　off　the　flagstones　of　the　paved　yard。
　　　Taking　the　head　pletely　off　settled　the　thing　at　last。　With　that；　whatever　spells　had　given　the　larva　the　semblance　of　life　were　undone。　The　gray　chitin　of　its　outer　surfaces　immediately　started　to　turn　friable。　It　crumbled　at　a　poke；　and　the　inner　grayness　that　ran　out　of　it　thinned　out　now　and　spread　like　mud　and　water。
　　　Which；　as　Nestor　could　now　see；　what　all　it　was。
　　　Some　huge　raindrops　had　already　begun　to　fall。　These　now　multiplied　in　a　white　rush。　Parts　of　what　had　been　the　larva　were　already　dissolving；　washing　away　into　the　ground　between　the　paving　stones。
　　　Nestor　deliberately　remained　for　a　time　standing　in　the　rain；　letting　it　cool　him。　He　raised　his　face　to　the　leaking　skies；　wanting　to　be　cleansed。　The　downpour　grew　fiercer；　yet　still　he　remained；　letting　it　wash　the　sword　as　well。　From　his　experience　with　Dragonslicer；　he　did　not　think　that　this　blade　was　going　to　rust。
　　　When　Nestor　felt　tolerably　clean　again　he　went　back　into　the　temple。　Just　inside　the　doorway　he　leaned　against　the　wall；　dripping　rainwater　from　his　hair　and　clothing；　watching　the　continuing　rain　and　listening　to　it。　The　thing　he　had　just　destroyed　with　his　sword　was　already　no　more　than　a　heap　of　wet　muck；　rapidly　losing　all　shape　as　it　was　washed　back　into　the　earth。
　　　〃Draffut　…　god　or　not；　Beastlord；　healer；　whatever　you　may　or　may；　not　be　…　I　am　sorry　to　have　destroyed　your　pet。　No；　that's　doubly　wrong。　It　wasn't　your　pet；　of　course。　Your　experiment　in　magic；　or　whatever。　And　naturally　I'm　not　really　sorry；　it　was　a　hideous　thing。　When　something　es　sneaking　up　and　attacks　a　man　with　a　hook　and　a　peeling　knife；　he　really　has　no　choice。　What's　that？〃
　　　What　it　had　sounded　like　was　human　voices；　a　small　burst　of　excited　conversation。　Nestor　waited　in　silence；　listening；　and　presently　the　voices　came　again。　They　were　in　the　middle　distance　somewhere。　He　couldn't　make　out　words；　but　they　sounded　like　the　voices　of　panicked　people　who　were　trying　to　be　quiet。
　　　What　now？
　　　The　sounds　came　again。　Nestor　still　could　not　make　out　any　of　the　words。　Some　language　that　he　did　not　know。　Most　likely　that　meant　some　of　the　savages　of　the　swamp。
　　　Muttering　a　brief　prayer　that　he　might　have　to　do　no　more　fighting；　to　gods　whose　existence　he　still　partly　doubted；　Nestor　took　a　good　grip　on　his　sword　and　went　to　see　what　he　could　see；　through　a　ruined　room　and　out　into　the　slackening　rain　again。　He　would　move；　then　wait　until　he　heard　the　voices　and　move　again。
　　　Climbing　a　tumbled　corner　of　the　temple；　past　a　tilted　deity　with　rain　dripping　from　his　nose；　Nestor　had　a　good　view　out　to　the　northeast。　In　that　direction　an　arm　of　the　swamp　came　in　closer　to　the　center　of　the　island　than　in　any　other。　This　inlet　was　visible　from　the　high　place　where　Nestor　crouched；　and　he　could　see　that　a　handful　of　dugout　canoes　had　just　arrived　there。　The　last　of　them　was　still　being　pulled　up　on　the　muddy　shore。　There　were　about　a　dozen　people；　with　straight　black　hair　and　nearly　naked　coppery　skins；　already　landed　or　still　disembarking。　It　wasn't　a　war　party。　Among　them　they　were　armed　with　no　more　than　a　couple　of　small　bows　and　a　few　clubs　…　not　that　they　were　carrying　much　of　anything　else。　There　were　women　and　children　among　them；　in　fact　making　up　a　majority　of　the　group。　Everything　they　had　looked　poor　…　the　Emperor's　children；　these　were；　born　losers　if　Nestor　had　ever　seen　any。
　　　One　of　the　women　pointed　back　into　the　swamp；　away　from　Nestor　and　the　temple；　and　made　some　statement　to　the　others　in　the　language　that　Nestor　did　not　know。　Then　the　whole　small　mob；　now　gathered　on　shore；　turned　inland　and　began　hurrying　through　low　bush　toward　the　temple。　They　were　certainly　not　aware　of　Nestor　yet；　and　he　crouched　a　little　lower；　concealing　himself　until　he　could　decide　what　he　ought　to　do　next。
　　　Before　he　could　make　a　plan；　something　that　looked　like　a　large；　low…slung　lizard　came　scrambling　up　out　of　the　swamp　behind　the　people。　Though　it　was　mostly　obscured　by　bushes；　Nestor　could　tell　it　was　moving　with　an　awkward　run　in　the　same　general　direction　as　the　humans　…　but　it　was　riot　pursuing　them。　It　passed　them　up　and　they　ignored　it。　A　general　migration　of　some　kind？　A　general　flight。。？
　　　Farther　back　to　the　northeast；　in　the　depths　of　the　swamp；　another　shape　was　approaching；　with　Nestor's　view　of　it　still　dimmed　by　rain。　Presently　he　made　it　out　to　be　another　canoe；　paddled　by　two　more　copperskinned　men。　Two　women　crouched　amidships；　slashing　at　the　water　with　their　cupped　hands　as　if　determined　to　do　everything　possible　to　add　speed。　The　people　on　shore　ceased　their　progress　inland　to　turn　and　watch。
　　　When　the　craft　was　just　a　little　nearer；　Nestor　could　see　a　horizontal　gray　shape　ing　after　it。　For　a　moment　he　thought　this　new　form　was　some　kind　of　peculiar　wave　troubling　the　water　of　the　swamp；　bearing　dead　logs　on　its　crest。　But　then　he　realized　that　what　he　had　first　taken　for　a　wave　was　really　an　almost　solid　rank　of　larvae　like　the　one　he　had　just　destroyed；　marching；　swimming；　clambering　forward　through　the　swamp。　Beyond　this　first　jumbled　rank　there　appeared　a　second；　Nestor；　looking　to　right　and　left；　could　not　see　the　end　of　either。　Scores　of　the　things　at　least　were　ing　toward　the　island；　and　more　probably　hundreds。　He　could　hear　them　now；　what　sounded　like　a　thousand　whistling　utterances　that　could　not　be　called　voices；　he　could　hear　the　multitudinous　splash　of　their　advance；　and　the　forest　of　their　dead　limbs；　knocking　together　softly　like　tumbled　logs　in　a　flood。
　　　Now　more　animals　and　birds；　large　and　small　together；　came　fleeing　the　swamp；　as　if　before　a　line　of　beaters　in　a　hunt。　The　approaching　terror　came　closer；　and　Nestor's　view　of　it　grew　less　blurred　by　rain。　Now　he　could　see；　all　along　the　advancing　lines　of　larvae；　how　arms　ended　in　spears；　in　flails；　in　maces；　clubs；　and　blades。　No　two　pair　of　raised　arms　appeared　quite　alike；　but　all　of　them　were　weapons。
　　　A　hundred　meters　to　Nestor's　right；　he　saw　a　mansized　dragon　climb　from　the　muck　onto　a　hummock　and　turn　at　bay　before　the　advancing　horde；　snarling　defiance。　In　an　instant　the　dragon　was　surrounded　by　half　a　dozen　of　the　dead…wood　figures。　It　hurled　one　back；　another　and　another；　but　more　kept　crowding　in；　their　deadly　arms　rising　and　falling。　Somewhere　farther　in　the　distance；　a　great　landwalker　bellowed；　and　Nestor　wondered　briefly　whether　it　too　would　choose　to　stand　and　fight；　and　what　success　it　might　have　if　it　did。
　　　The　people　who　had　already　reached　the　island　were　waving　their　arms　and　calling　now；　trying　to　cheer　on　the　last　canoe。　Its　paddlers　appeared　to　Nestor　to　be　gaining　on　the　pursuing　horror。　But　then　the　bottom　of　their　craft　scraped　on　some　large　object；　log　or　mud…hump；　under　water。　The　next　moment；　despite　all　their　frantic　paddling；　they　were　stuck　fast。
　　　Nestor　could　see　now　that　both　of　the　women　in　the　canoe　were　carrying；　or　wearing；　infants　strapped　to　their　bodies。　All　four　of　the　adults　in　the　canoe　were　working　frantically　to　free　it；　and　they　seemed　on　the　point　of　success　when　the　gray　wave　overtook　them；　and　the　first　handless　arms　reached　out。　To　the　acpaniment　of　human　screams　the　canoe　tipped　over；　and　its　passengers　vanished。
　　　Those　who　had　already　gained　the　shore　turned　from　the　scene　in　renewed　panic。　Crying　to　one　another　in　a　fear　that　needed　no　translation；　they　ran　for　the　temple。
　　　Nestor　hesitated　no　longer　over　whether　to　show　himself；　but　jumped　up　into　their　full　view。　He　was　not　going　to　be　able　to　outrun　the　oning　threat；　particularly　not　on　a　small　island；　nor　were　the　refugees　from　the　boats。　In　union　lay　their　only　possible　chance　of　making　a　successful　stand　against　it；　and　that　possible　of　course　only　if　Townsaver's　latent　powers　could　somehow　be　called　into　action；　and　if　they　were　as　great　as　Nestor　had　been　led　to　expect。　The　mental　map　that　he　had　formed　during　his　exploration　of　the　temple　showed　him　another　key　factor　in　his　hope：　a　certain　high　room；　open　only　on　one　side；　that　would　perhaps　be　defensible　by　three　or　four　determined　fighters。