mck.harpistinthewind-第21章

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　could　not　help　her；　he　felt　incapable　even　of　thought。　Then　a　power　gripped　his　exhausted　mind；　wrenched　him　out　of　shape。　He　cried　out；　a　fierce；　piercing；　hawk's　protest。　The　power　held　him；　flung　him　like　a　dark；　wild　wind　out　of　the　burning　School　of　Wizards；　out　of　the　embattled　city　into　the　vast；　pathless　wasteland　of　the　night。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　XI
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　THE　SHAPE…CHANGERS　PURSUED　HIM　ACROSS　THE　backlands。　The　first　night；　he　bolted　across　the　sky　in　hawk…shape；　the　fiery　city　behind　him　growing　smaller　and　smaller　in　the　darkness。　He　flew　northward　instinctively；　away　from　the　kingdoms；　marking　his　path　by　the　smell　of　water　beneath　him。　By　dawn　he　felt　safe。　He　dropped　downward　toward　the　lake　shore。　Birds　drifting　to　the　gentle　morning　tide　swarmed　up　at　his　approach。　He　felt　strands　of　their　minds　like　a　network。　He　broke　through　it；　arching　back　up　in　midair。　They　drove　him　across　the　lake　into　the　trees；　where　he　dropped　again　suddenly；　plummeting　through　air　and　light　tike　a　dark　fist；　until　he　touched　the　ground　and　vanished。　Miles　away　to　the　north；　he　appeared　again；　kneeling　beside　the　channel　of　water　between　two　lakes；　retching　with　exhaustion。　He　sagged　down　on　the　bank　beside　the　water。　After　a　while　he　moved　again；　dropped　his　face　in　the　current　and　drank。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　They　found　him　again　at　dusk。　He　had　caught　fish　and　eaten　for　the　first　time　in　two　days。　The　changeless　afternoon　light；　the　river's　monotonous　voice　had　lulled　him　to　sleep。　He　woke　abruptly　at　a　squirrel's　chattering；　and　saw　high　in　the　blue…grey　air　a　great　flock　of　wheeling　birds。　Rolling　into　the　water；　he　changed　shape。　The　current　flung　him　from　one　relentless　sluice　of　water　to　another；　spun　him　back　downstream　into　still　pools；　where　hungry　water　birds　dove　at　him。　He　fought　his　way　upstream；　seeing　nothing　but　a　constant；　darkening　blur　that　shrugged　him　from　side　to　side　and　roared　whenever　he　broke　the　surface。　Finally　he　foundered　into　still　water。　It　deepened　as　he　swam。　He　dove　toward　the　bottom　to　rest；　but　the　water　grew　dark　and　still；　so　deep　he　had　to　e　up　to　breathe　before　he　found　the　bottom。　He　swam　slowly　near　the　surface；　watching　moths　flutter　in　the　moonlight。　He　drifted　until　the　lake　bottom　angled　upward；　and　he　found　weeds　to　hide　in。　He　did　not　move　until　morning。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　Then　a　tiny　fish　dove　into　the　sunlight　near　him；　snapped　at　an　insect。　Rings　of　water　broke　above　him。　He　rose　out　of　the　weeds；　the　water　burned　around　him　with　the　morning　sun　as　he　changed　shape。　He　waded　out　of　the　lake；　stood　listening　to　the　silence。　It　seemed　to　roar　soundlessly　out　of　lands　beyond　the　known　world。　The　soft　morning　wind　seemed　alien；　speaking　a　language　he　had　never　learned。　He　remembered　the　wild；　ancient　voices　of　Wind　Plain　that　had　echoed　across　Ymris　with　a　thousand　names　and　memories。　But　the　voices　of　the　backlands　seemed　even　older；　a　rootwork　of　winds　that　held　nothing　he　could　prehend　except　their　emptiness。　He　stood　for　a　long　time；　breathing　their　loneliness　until　he　felt　them　begin　to　hollow　him　into　something　as　nameless　as　themselves。
　　　　　　　He　whispered　Raederle's　name　then。　He　turned　blindly；　his　thoughts　tangling　into　a　hard　knot　of　fear。　He　wondered　if　she　were　still　alive；　if　anyone　were　left　alive　in　Lungold。　He　wondered　if　he　should　return　to　the　city。　His　fists　pounded　rhythmically　agaist　tree　bark　as　he　thought　of　her。　The　tree　shivered　with　his　uncertainty；　a　crow　startled　out　of　it；　squawking。　He　raised　his　head　suddenly；　stood　still　as　an　animal；　scenting。　The　placid　lake　waters　began　to　stir；　boil　shapes　out　of　their　depths。　The　blood　hammered　through　him。　He　opened　his　mind　to　the　minds　of　the　backland。　Several　miles　away　he　joined　a　vast　herd　of　elk　moving　northward　toward　the　Thul。
　　　　　　　He　stayed　with　them　as　they　grazed。　He　decided　to　break　away　at　the　Thul；　follow　it　eastward　until　the　shape…changers　lost　him；　and　then　double　back　to　Lungold。　Two　days　later；　when　the　slow　herd　began　gathering　at　the　river；　he　roamed　away　from　it；　eastward　along　the　banks。　But　part　of　the　herd　followed　him。　He　changed　shape　again；　desperately；　began　flying　south　in　the　night。　But　shapes　rose；　swirling　out　of　the　darkness；　beat　him　northward　across　the　Thul；　northward　toward　White　Lady　Lake；　northward；　he　began　to　realize；　toward　Erlenstar　Mountain。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　The　realization　filled　him　with　both　fury　and　terror。　On　the　shores　of　White　Lady　Lake；　he　turned　to　fight。　He　waited　for　them　in　his　own　shape；　the　stars　in　his　sword…hilt　flaring　a　blood…red　signal　to　them　across　the　backlands。　But　nothing　answered　his　challenge。　The　hot　afternoon　was　motionless；　the　waters　of　the　huge　lake　lay　still　as　beaten　silver。　Groping；　he　could　not　even　touch　their　minds。　Finally；　as　the　waning　sun　drew　shadows　after　it　across　the　lake；　he　began　to　breathe　a　tentative　freedom。　He　sheathed　his　sword；　shrugged　himself　into　wolf…shape。　And　then　he　saw　them；　motionless　as　air；　ranged　across　his　path；　shaping　themselves　out　of　the　blur　of　light　and　darkness。
　　　　　　　He　sparked　a　flame　from　the　dying　sun　in　his　sword　hilt；　let　it　burn　down　the　blade。　Then　he　frayed　himself　into　shadow；　filled　his　mind　with　darkness。　He　attacked　to　kill；　yet　in　his　exhaustion　and　hopelessness；　he　knew　he　was　half…goading　them　to　kill　him。　He　killed　two　shape…changers　before　he　realized　that　in　some　terrible　mockery；　they　had　permitted　it。　They　would　not　fight；　they　would　not　let　him　go　south。　He　changed　back　into　wolf…shape；　ran　northward　along　the　lake　shore　into　the　trees。　A　great　herd　of　wolves　massed　behind　him。　He　turned　again；　flung　himself　at　them。　They　grappled　with　him；　snarling；　snapping　until　he　realized；　as　he　rolled　over　and　over　on　the　bracken　with　a　great　wolf　whose　teeth　were　locked　on　his　forearm；　that　it　was　real。　He　shook　it　away　from　him　with　a　shudder　of　energy；　burned　a　circle　of　light　around　himself。　They　milled　around　him　restlessly　in　the　dusk；　not　sure　what　he　was；　smelling　blood　from　his　torn　shoulder。　Looking　at　them；　he　wanted　to　laugh　suddenly　at　his　mistake。　But　something　far　more　bitter　than　laughter　spilled　into　his　throat。　For　a　while　he　could　not　think。　He　could　only　watch　a　starless　night　flowing　across　the　wastes　and　smell　the　musk　of　a　hundred　wolves　as　they　circled　him。　Then；　with　a　vague　idea　of　attacking　the　shape…changers；　he　squatted；　holding　wolves'　eyes；　drawing　their　minds　under　his　control。　But　something　broke　his　binding。　The　wolves　faded　away　into　the　night；　leaving　him　alone。　He　could　not　fly；　his　arm　was　stiffening；　burning。　The　smell　of　loneliness　from　the　cold；　darkening　water　overwhelmed　him。　He　let　the　fire　around　him　go　out。　Trapped　between　the　shape…changers　and　the　black　horror　of　Erlenstar　Mountain；　he　could　not　move。　He　stood　shivering　in　the　dark　wind；　while　the　night　built　around　him；　memory　by　memory。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　The　light　wing…brush　of　another　mind　touched　his　mind；　and　then　his　heart。　He　found　he　could　move　again；　as　though　a　spell　had　been　broken。　The　voice　of　the　wind　changed；　it　filled　the　black　night　from　every　direction　with　the　whisper　of　Raederle's　name。　His　awareness　of　her　lasted　only　a　moment。　But　he　felt；　reaching　down　to　touch　the　bracken　into　flame；　that　she　might　be　anywhere　and　everywhere　around　him；　the　great　tree　rising　beside　him；　the　fire　sparking　up　from　dead　leaves　to　warm　his　face。　He　ripped　the　sleeves　off　his　tunic；　washed　his　arm　and　bound　it。　He　lay　beside　the　fire；　gazing　into　the　heart　of　it；　trying　to　prehend　the　shape…changers　and　their　intentions。　He　realized　suddenly　that　tears　were　burning　down　his　face；　because　Raederle　was　alive；　because　she　was　with　him。　He　reached　out；　buried　the　fire　under　a　handful　of　earth。　He　hid　himself　within　an　illusion　of　darkness　and　began　to　move　again；　northward；　following　the　vast　shore　of　White　Lady　Lake。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　He　did　not　meet　the　shape…changers　again　until　he　reached　the　raging　white　waters　of　the　Cwill　River；　as　it　broke　away　from　the　northernmost　tip　of　the　lake。　From　there；　he　could　see　the　back　of　Isig　Pass；　the　distant　rolling　foothills　and　bare　peaks　of　Isig　Mountain　and　Erlenstar　Mountain。　He　made　another　desperate　bid　for　freedom　then。　He　dropped　into　the　wild　current　of　the　Cwill；　let　it　whirl　him；　now　as　a　fish；　now　a　dead　branch；　through　deep；　churning　waters；　down　rapids　and　thundering　falls　until　he　lost　all　sense　of　time；　direction；　light。　The　current　jarred　him　over　endless　rapids　before　it　loosed　him　finally　in　a　slow；　green　pool。　He　spun　awhile；　a　piece　of　water…soaked　wood；　aware　of　nothing　but　a　fibrous　darkness。　The　gentle　current　edged　him　toward　the　shore　into　a　snarl　of　dead　leaves　and　branches。　He　pulled　himself　onto　the　snag　finally；　a　wet；　bedraggled　muskrat；　and　picked　his　way　across　the　branches　onto　the　shore。
　　　　　　　He　changed　shape　again　in　the　shadows。　He　had　not　gone　as　far　east　as　he　had　thought。　Erlenstar　Mountain；　flanked　with　evening　shadows；　stood　enormous　and　still　in　the　distance。　But　he　was　closer　to　Isig；　he　knew；　if　he　could　reach　it　safely；　he　could　hide　himself　interminably　in　its　maze　of　underground　passages。　He　waited　until　nightfall　to　move　again。　Then；　in　the　shape　of　a　bear；　he　lumbered　off　into　the　dark　toward　the　pattern　of　stars　above　Isig　Mountain。
　　　　　　　He　followed　the　stars　until　they　faded　at　dawn；　and　then；　without　realizing　it；　he　began　to　alter　his　path。　Trees　thickened　around　him；　hiding　his　view　of　the　mountain；　thick　patches　of　scrub　and　bramble　forced　him　to　veer　again　and　again。　The　land　sloped　downward　sharply；　he　followed　a　dry　stream　bed　through　a　ravine；　thinking　he　was　going　north；　until　the　stream　bed　rose　up　to　level　ground　and　he　found　himself　facing　Erlenstar　Mountain。　He　angled　eastward　again。　The　trees　clustered　around　him；　murmuring　in　the　wind；　the　underbrush　thickened；　crossing　his　path；　imperceptibly　changing　his　direction　until；　shambling　across　a　shallow　river；　he　saw　Erlenstar　Mountain　again　in　a　break　between　the　trees　ahead　of　him。
　　　　　　　He　stopped　in　the　middle　of　the　river。　The　sun　hung　suspended　far　to　the　west；　crackling　in　the　sky　like　a　torch。　He　felt　hot；　dusty；　and　hungry　within　the　shaggy　bear　pelt。　He　heard　bees　droning　and　scented　the　air　for　honey。　A　fish　flickered　past　him　in　the　shallow　water；　he　slapped　at　it　and　missed。　Then　something　rumbling　beneath　the　bear…brain　sharpened　into　language。　He　reared　in　the　water；　his　head　weaving　from　side　to　side；　his　muzzle　wrinkled；　as　if　he　could　smell　the　shapes　that　had　been　forming　around　him；　pushing　him　away　from　Isig。
　　　　　　　He　felt　something　build　in　him　and　loosed　it：　a　deep；　grumbling　roar　that　shattered　the　silence　and　bellowed　back　at　him　from　hills　and　stone　peaks。　Then；　in　hawk…shape；　he　burned　a　golden　path　upward　high　into　the　sky　until　the　backlands　stretched　endlessly　beneath　him；　and　he　shot　towards　Isig　Mountain。
　　　　　　　The　shape…changers　melted　out　of　the　trees；　flew　after　him。　For　a　while　he　raced　ahead　of　them　in　a　bunding　surge　of　speed　toward　the　distant　green　mountain。　But　as　the　sun　set；　they　began　to　catch　up　with　him。　They　were　of　a　nameless　shape。　Their　wings　gathered　gold　and　red　from　the　sunset；　their　eyes　and　talons　were　of　flame。　Their　sharp　beaks　were　bone…white。　They　surrounded　him；　dove　at　him；　snapp