fs.thethirdbookofswords-第50章
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e was directing him； ordering the whole attack； straight to Vilkata's pavilion。 The huge tent stood plain in the light of several watch…fires near it； its black…gold fabric wrinkling in a chiaroscuro wrought by the night breeze。
The first few of the Dark King's soldiers to blunder innocently into the way of the advancing column were cut down in savage silence。 For those few endless…seeming moments； the advantage of surprise held。 Then the alarm went up； in a dozen voices at once。 The thin column of raiders broke into a charge； still； half or more of their total number had not yet e out of the tunnel。
Now resistance began； weapon against weapon； fierce and growing stronger。 But it was still too disorganized to stop the charge。 Mark； near the front of the attack； used Coinspinner as a physical weapon。 Troops were gathering to oppose the raiders； the alarm was spreading。 But now for a moment the pavilion was within reach； the Sword of Chance could touch its fabric。 Fine cloth parted with a shriek before its edge。
Men who had been inside burst out with weapons in their hands to bar the way。 Already a counterattack was taking form； against both sides of the column and its front。 The formation shattered； with its front forced back by opposing swords and shields； the fight became a great melee； a free…for…all。
A different and even deadlier resistance was gathering too。 Above the watch…fires； over the huge tent itself； the air roiled now with more than rising heat。 The demonic guardians of the Dark King and of his chief magicians were readying themselves to pounce upon intruders。
The Lord Mayor's best sorceress； stumbling near Mark's side in the darkness； stopped suddenly and seized Mark by the arm。 He could feel the woman's whole body quivering。
〃Do what you can；〃 she demanded of him。 〃And quickly！ Else we are all lost。 I had hoped they would not be this strong。。。〃
Mark himself with his experience had been grimly certain that they would。 Still the Sword had brought him here。 And he had another power of his own； already tested once。
His faith in it was tested now。 Suddenly the Emperor was only one more man； and far away； while the ravening airborne presences that lowered themselves now toward Mark were the most overwhelmingly real things in all the universe。
Mark had rehearsed no incantations beforehand。 If he meant to trust the Emperor； he would trust him in that as well； that no special words were needed。 The words that came to him now were those of Ariane； uttered in the Blue Temple cave four years ago：
〃In the Emperor's name； forsake this game； and let us pass！〃
Vilkata； awakened by the sounds of the attack； had just rolled groggily out of bed。 The demon that served as his eyes； recalled abruptly to duty； had just begun to send sight…images to the Dark King's brain。 Then in a moment the demon was catapulted into a blank distance； and those images were blanked away again。
For a moment the Dark King did not grasp the full import of his full and sudden blindness。 Certainly some emergency had arisen； and his first thought was for the Mindsword。 He groped for it； but his hands found only a tangled fall of cloth； part of his pavilion was collapsing around him。 And the weapon was not where he thought it ought to be。 Could he possibly； in last night's drunkenness； have failed to keep the Sword with him； beside his bed as always？ He could remember； at some time in the party； using it in sport； trying to drive one of his women mad with devotion to him。 But after that。。。
Surrounded by the sounds of fighting； groans； oaths； and the clash of arms； he groped frantically about him on the floor； amid soft pillows and spilled wine。 Between the confusion of his awakening and his sudden blindness he was disoriented。 No； he had brought the Mindsword with him to his bedchamber； he remembered and was sure。 But now he could not find it。 Where was it？
The clamor of the fighting continued very near him。 The fabric and the supports of the tent must have been assaulted； the bodies of people running and fighting had jostled into it； and more great sheets of loosened cloth were falling； crumpling。 They settled and collapsed right on the groping blind man。
The Sword had to be right here； he knew that it was here。 But still he could not lay his hands on it。 Frantically； sightlessly； he burrowed into the heaps of soft； fine fabric that were ing down and piling up like snow。 But his searching fingers were baffled by the cloth； as the eyes of a normally sighted man would be in fog。
And Vilkata was aware by now that not only his vision…demon but all the other demons as well were gone； a great part of his defense dissolved。 It was unbelievable； but true。 Somehow they had all been hurled away。 In the middle distance he could hear the voice of Burslem； screaming incantations； trying to call other； non…demonic； forces of magic into play。 What success the magician might be having； Vilkata could not tell。 His ears assured him that the physical fight still raged nearby； but the enemy weapons had not yet found his skin。 Perhaps； under this baffling cloth； he was invisible as well as blind。
And still； in his confusion； he could not find the Sword。 He'd grope his way back to his bed； and start over again from there。 If only he knew which way to crawl to find his bed。
Mark was wielding Coinspinner constantly now； as a physical weapon in his own defense。 The demons had been satisfactorily expelled； at least for the time being； but minute by minute the Dark King's other defenses were being better organized。 Confusion still dominated； and because of that fact the bulk of the attacking force still survived。 Mark thought that； to the enemy； his attacking force must have seemed to number in the thousands； it would seem inconceivable to the Dark King that any force much smaller than that would dare to attack him in this fashion。
In the outer darkness around the periphery of the struggle； the Dark King's people must often have been fighting one another。 Closer to the pavilion； in the light of the watch…fires； they prospered better； and began to assert some of the real advantage of their numbers。 Mark was wounded lightly in his left arm； when even superb luck ran thin； by a blow that doubtless would have killed him outright but for his possession of the Sword of Chance。
He had lost sight of Ben； and of the sorceress。 His Tasavaltan guard were fighting near him。 Coinspinner still pointed at the half…collapsed pavilion； but Mark no longer saw how he could get there。 The whole invading party was being forced back now； farther away from it。
Only Doomgiver； in the hands of one of Sir Andrew's officers； saved the attacking party from plete annihilation at this point。 It repelled blows； missiles； and magic spells； making its holder a center of invulnerable strength； turning each weapon used against him back upon its user。 Alone it worked considerable destruction in the ranks of the Dark King's guardians。 And； along with the Sword of Chance that Mark still had in his grasp； it allowed a tenacious survival for the attackers even after their hopes of being able to seize the Mindsword had dwindled almost to the vanishing point。
〃Back！〃 Whether Mark was the one who actually voiced the word or not； it was in his throat。 〃We must retreat。 We can't let our two Swords be captured here。〃
So what had been a forced withdrawal became a calculated one。 Now Coinspinner； faithful as always to its users' wishes； also pointed the way back。 Mark fought； and moved； and fought again； hampered by his wounded arm； swinging the Sword of Chance as best he could。 His Tasavaltan bodyguard was trying to keep close around him； and more than once they saved his life。 〃By all the gods； what's that？〃
It was not all the gods； but only some of them。 No more than three or four； perhaps。 They were out near the horizon； kilometers from the walls of Tashigang and the field of human bat。 Several large sparks； like burning brands； could be seen out there in the distance； moving back and forth over the earth erratically。 Those sparks must be whole burning tree…trunks at the least。
Momentarily a near…hush spread across the battlefield； as most of the people on it bec
