srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第82部分

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ogether。　The　Eoward　had　to　retreat。
　It　was　a　grim　and　silent　struggle。　After　the　first　hungry　yell　of　the　attack；　Fleshharrower's　army　fought　with　dumb；　maniacal　ferocity。　And　the　warriors　had　no　strength　for　shouts　or　cries。　Only　the　tumult　of　feet；　and　the　clash　of　weapons；　and　the　moans　of　the　maimed　and　dying；　and　the　barking　of　orders；　punctuated　the　mute　engagement。　Yet　Lord　Mhoram　felt　these　clenched　sounds　like　a　deafening　din；　they　seemed　to　echo　off　his　dread。　The　effort　to　ignore　the　battle　and　concentrate　on　his　work　squeezed　sweat　out　of　his　bones；　made　his　pulse　hammer　like　a　prisoner　against　his　temples。
　When　…traditional　names　and　invocations　failed　to　bring　the　Forestal；　he　began　using　signs　and　arcane
　symbols。　He　drew　pentacles　and　circles　on　the　grass　with　his　staff；　set　fires　burning　within　them；　waved　eldritch　gestures　over　them。　He　murmured　labyrinthian　chants　under　his　breath。
　All　were　useless。　The　silence　of　the　Deep's　gloom　sounded　like　laughter　in　his　ears。
　Yet　the　sounds　of　killing　came　steadily　nearer。　All　the　valiance　of　the　warriors　was　not　enough；　they　were　driven　back。
　Troy　heard　the　retreat　also。　At　last　he　could　no　longer　contain　himself。　〃Dear　God；　Mhoram！''　he　whispered　urgently。　〃They　are　being　butchered。〃
　Mhoram　spun　on　Troy；　raging；　〃Do　you　think　I　am　unaware？〃　But　when　he　beheld　the　Warmark；　he　stopped。　He　could　see　Troy's　torment。　The　sting　of　sweat　made　the　Warmark's　burns　flame　garishly；　they　throbbed　with　pain。　His　hands　groped　aimlessly　about　him；　as　if　he　were　lost。　He　was　blind。　For　all　his　power　to　plan　and　conceive；　he　was　helpless　to　execute　even　the　simplest　of　his　ideas。
　Lord　Mhoram　wrenched　his　anger　into　another　channel。　With　its　strength；　he　made　his　decision。
　〃Very　well；　my　friend；〃　he　breathed　heavily。　〃There　are　other　attempts　to　be　made；　but　perhaps　only　one　is　perilous　enough　to　have　some　hope　of　success。　Stand　ready。　You　must　take　my　place　if　I　fall。　Legends　say　that　the　song　I　mean　to　sing　is　fatal。〃
　As　he　strode　forward；　he　felt　a　new　calm。　Confronting　his　dread；　he　could　see　that　it　was　only　fear。　He　had　met　and　mastered　its　kindred　when　a　Raver　had　laid　hands　on　him。　And　the　knowledge　he　had　gained　then　could　save　the　Wayward　now。　With　peril　in　his　eyes；　he　went　toward　the　Deep　until　he　was　among　the　first　trees。　There　he　ignited　his　staff　and　raised　it　over　his　head；　carefully　holding　it　away　from　any　of　the　branches。　Then　he　began　to　sing。
　The　words　came　awkwardly　to　his　lips；　and　the　accents　of　the　melody　seemed　to　miss　their　beats。　He　was　singing　a　song　to　which　no　former　Lord　had　ever　given　utterance。　It　was　one　of　the　dark　mysteries　of　the　Land；　forbidden　because　of　the　hazard　it　earned。　Yet　the　words　of　the　song　were　clear　and　simple。　Their
　peril　lay　elsewhere。　According　to　Kevin's　Lore；　they　belonged　like　cherished　treasure　to　the　Forestall　of　the　One　Forest。　The　forestall　slew　all　mortals　who　profaned　those　words。
　Nevertheless；　Lord　Mhoram　lifted　up　his　voice　and　sang　them　boldly。
　Branches　spread　and　tree　trunks　grow
　Through　rain　and　heat　and　snow　and　cold：　Though　wide　world's　winds　untimely　blow；
　And　earthquakes　rock　and　cliff　unseal；
　My　leaves　grow　green　and　seedlings　bloom。
　Since　days　before　the　Earth　was　old　And　Time　began　its　walk　to　doom；
　The　Forests　world's　bare　rock　anneal；
　Forbidding　dusty　waste　and　death。
　I　am　the　Land's　Creator's　hold：　I　inhale　all　expiring　breath；
　And　breathe　out　life　to　bind　and　heal。
　As　his　singing　faded　into　the　distance；　he　heard　the　reply。　Its　music　far　surpassed　his　own。　It　seemed　to　fall　from　the　branches　like　leaves　bedewed　with　rare　melody…to　fall　and　flutter　around　him；　so　that　he　stared　as　if　he　were　dazzled。　The　voice　had　a　light；　high；　clear　sound；　like　a　splashing　brook；　but　the　power　it　implied　filled　him　with　awe。
　But　ax　and　fire　leave　me　dead。
　I　know　the　hate　of　hands　grown　bold。　Depart　to　save　your　heart…sap's　red：
　My　hate　knows　neither　rest　nor　weal。
　A　shimmer　of　music　rippled　his　sight。　When　it　cleared；　he　saw　Caerroil　Wildwood　walking　toward　him　across　the　greensward。
　The　Forestal　was　a　tall　man　with　a　long　white　beard　and　flowing　white　hair。　He　wore　a　robe　of　purest　samite；　and　carried　a　gnarled　wooden　rod　like　a　scepter　in　the　crook　of　one　arm。　A　garland　of　purple　and
　white　orchids　about　his　neck　only　heightened　his　austere　dignity。　He　appeared　out　of　the　gloaming　of　the　Deep　as　if　he　had　stepped　from　behind　a　veil；　and　he　moved　like　a　monarch　between　the　trees。　They　nodded　to　him　as　he　passed。　With　every　step；　he　scattered　droplets　of　melody　about　him　as　if　his　whole　person　were　drenched　in　song。　His　sparkling　voice　softened　the　severity　of　his　mien。　But　his　eyes　were　not　soft。　From　under　his　thick　white　brows；　a　silver　light　shone　from　orbs　without　pupil　or　iris；　and　his　glances　had　the　force　of　physical　impact。
　Still　humming　the　refrain　of　his　song；　he　approached　Lord　Mhoram。　His　gaze　held　the　Lord　motionless　until　they　were　almost　within　arm's　reach　of　each　other。　Mhoram　felt　himself　being　probed。　The　sound　of　music　continued；　and　some　time　passed　before　he　realized　that　the　Forestal　was　speaking　to　him；　asking　him；　〃Who　dares　taint　my　song？〃
　With　an　effort；　Lord　Mhoram　set　aside　his　awe　to　answer；　〃Caerroil　Wildwood；　Forestal　and　servant　of　the　Tree…soul；　please　pardon　my　presumption。　I　intend　no　offense　or　taint。　But　my　need　is　urgent；　surpassing　both　fear　and　caution。　I　am　Mhoram　son　of　Variol；　Lord　of　the　Council　of　Revelstone；　and　a　defender　of　the　Land　in　tree　and　rock。　I　seek　a　boon；　Caerroil　Wildwood。〃
　〃A　boon？〃　the　Forestal　mused　musically。　〃You　bring　a　fire　among　my　trees；　and　then　ask　a　boon？　You　are　a　fool；　Mhoram　son　of　Variol。　I　make　no　bargains　with　men。　I　grant　no　boons　to　any　creature　with　knowledge　of　blade　or　flame。　Begone。〃　He　did　not　raise　his　voice　or　sharpen　his　song；　but　the　might　of　his　mand　made　Mhoram　stagger。
　〃Forestal；　hear　me。〃　Mhoram　strove　to　keep　his　voice　calm。　〃I　have　used　this　fire　only　to　gain　your　notice。〃　Extinguishing　his　staff；　he　lowered　it　to　the　ground　and　gripped　it　as　a　brace　against　the　Forestal's　refusal。　〃I　am　a　Lord；　a　servant　of　the　Earthpower。　Since　the　Lords　began；　all　have　sworn　all　their　might　to　the　preservation　of　Land　and　Forest。　We　love　and　honor　the　wood　of　the　world。　I　have　done　no　harm　to
　these　trees…and　never　shall；　though　you　refuse　my　boon　and　condemn　the　Land　to　fire　and　death。〃
　Humming　as　if　to　himself；　Caerroil　Wildwood　said；　〃I　know　nothing　of　Lords。　They　are　nothing　to　me。　But　I　know　men；　mortals。　The　Ritual　of　Desecration　is　not　forgotten　in　the　Deep。〃
　〃Yet　hear　me；　Caerroil　Wildwood。〃　Mhoram　could　feel　the　sounds　of　battle　beating　against　his　back。　But　he　remembered　what　he　had　learned　of　the　history　of　the　One　Forest；　and　remained　steady；　serene。　〃I　do　not　ask　a　boon　for　which　I　can　make　no　return。　Forestal；　I　offer　you　a　Raven〃
　At　the　word　Raven　Caerroil　Wildwood　changed。　The　dewy；　glistening　aura　of　his　music　took　on　an　inflection　of　anger。　His　eyes　darkened；　their　silver　light　gave　way　to　thunderheads。　Mist　spread　from　his　orbs；　and　drifted　upward　through　his　eyebrows。　But　he　said　nothing；　and　Mhoram　continued。
　〃The　people　of　the　Land　fight　a　war　against　the　Despiser；　the　ancient　tree　ravager。　His　great　army　has　driven　us　here；　and　the　last　battle　now　rages　in　Cravenhaw。　Without　your　aid；　we　will　surely　be　destroyed。　But　with　our　death；　the　Land　bees　defenseless。　Then　the　tree　ravager　will　make　war　upon　all　the　Forest…upon　the　trees　in　beautiful　Andelain；　upon　slumbering　Grimmerdhore　and　restless　Morinmoss。　In　the　end；　he　will　attack　the　Deep　and　you。　He　must　be　defeated　now。〃
　The　Forestal　appeared　unmoved　by　this　appeal。　Instead　of　replying　to　it；　he　hummed　darkly；　〃You　spoke　of　a　Raven〃
　〃The　army　which　destroys　us　even　now　is　manded　by　a　Raver；　one　of　the　three　decimators　of　the　One　Forest。〃
　〃Give　me　a　token　that　you　speak　the　truth。〃
　Lord　Mhoram　did　not　dare　hesitate。　Though　the　ground　he　trod　was　pletely　trackless；　unmapped　by　any　lore　but　his　own　intuition；　he　answered　promptly；　〃He　is　moksha　Raver；　also　named　Jehannum　and　Fleshharrower。　In　ages　long　past；　he　and　turiya　his　brother　taught　the　despising　of　trees　to　the　once　friendly　Demondim。　Samadhi　his　brother　guided　the
　monarch　of　Doriendor　Corishev　when　that　mad　king　sought　to　master　the　life　and　death　of　the　One　Forest。〃
　〃Moksha　Raven〃　Caerroil　Wildwood　trilled　lightly；　dangerously。　〃I　have　a　particular　hunger　for　Ravers。〃
　〃Their　might　is　greatly　increased　now。　They　share　the　unnatural　power　of　the　Illearth　Stone。〃
　〃I　care　nothing　for　that；〃　the　Forestal　replied　almost　brusquely。　〃But　you　offered　m　Raver　to　me。　How　can　that　be　done；　when　he　defeats　you　even　now？〃
　The　sounds　of　battle　came　inexorably　nearer　as　the　Warward　was　driven　back。　Lord　Mhoram　heard　less　bat　and　more　slaughter　with　every　passing　moment。　And　he　could　feel　Warmark　Troy　panting　behind　him。　With　all　his　hard　won　serenity；　he　answered；　〃That　is　the　boon　I　ask；　Caerroil　Wildwood。　I　ask　safe　passage　for　all　my　people　through　Garroting　Deep。　This　boon　will　deliver　moksha　Raver　into　your　hands。　He　and　all　his　army；　all　his　ur…viles　and　Cavewights　and　creatures；　will　be　yours。