grrm.astormofswords-第44章

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ask　what　the　letter　should　say。　Write　it　out　yourself；　and　send　one　bird　to　Castle　Black　and　another　to　the　Shadow　Tower。〃　The　Old　Bear　pointed　a　gloved　finger　right　in　Sam's　face。　〃I　don't　care　if　you're　so　scared　you　foul　your　breeches；　and　I　don't　care　if　a　thousand　wildlings　are　ing　over　the　walls　howling　for　your　blood；　you　get　those　birds　off；　or　I　swear　I'll　hunt　you　through　all　seven　hells　and　make　you　damn　sorry　that　you　didn't。〃　And　Mormont's　own　raven　had　bobbed　its　head　up　and　down　and　croaked；　〃Sorry；　sorry；　sorry。〃
　Sam　was　sorry；　sorry　he　hadn't　been　braver；　or　stronger；　or　good　with　swords；　that　he　hadn't　been　a　better　son　to　his　father　and　a　better　brother　to　Dickon　and　the　girls。　He　was　sorry　to　die　too；　but　better　men　had　died　on　the　Fist；　good　men　and　true；　not　squeaking　fat　boys　like　him。　At　least　he　would　not　have　the　Old　Bear　hunting　him　through　hell；　though。　I　got　the　birds　off。　I　did　that　right；　at　least。　He　had　written　out　the　messages　ahead　of　time；　short　messages　and　simple；　telling　of　an　attack　on　the　Fist　of　the　First　Men；　and　then　he　had　tucked　them　away　safe　in　his　parchment　pouch；　hoping　he　would　never　need　to　send　them。
　When　the　horns　blew　Sam　had　been　sleeping。　He　thought　he　was　dreaming　them　at　first；　but　when　he　opened　his　eyes　snow　was　falling　on　the　camp　and　the　black　brothers　were　all　grabbing　bows　and　spears　and　running　toward　the　ringwall。　Chett　was　the　only　one　nearby；　Maester　Aemon's　old　steward　with　the　face　full　of　boils　and　the　big　wen　on　his　neck。　Sam　had　never　seen　so　much　fear　on　a　man's　face　as　he　saw　on　Chett's　when　that　third　blast　came　moaning　through　the　trees。　〃Help　me　get　the　birds　off；〃　he　pleaded；　but　the　other　steward　had　turned　and　run　off；　dagger　in　hand。　He　has　the　dogs　to　care　for；　Sam　remembered。　Probably　the　Lord　mander　had　given　him　some　orders　as　well。
　His　fingers　had　been　so　stiff　and　clumsy　in　the　gloves；　and　he　was　shaking　from　fear　and　cold；　but　he　found　the　parchment　pouch　and　dug　out　the　messages　he'd　written。　The　ravens　were　shrieking　furiously；　and　when　he　opened　the　Castle　Black　cage　one　of　them　flew　right　in　his　face。　Two　more　escaped　before　Sam　could　catch　one；　and　when　he　did　it　pecked　him　through　his　glove；　drawing　blood。　Yet　somehow　he　held　on　long　enough　to　attach　the　little　roll　of　parchment。　The　warhorn　had　fallen　silent　by　then；　but　the　Fist　rang　with　shouted　mands　and　the　clatter　of　steel。　〃Fly！〃　Sam　called　as　he　tossed　the　raven　into　the　air。
　The　birds　in　the　Shadow　Tower　cage　were　screaming　and　fluttering　about　so　madly　that　he　was　afraid　to　open　the　door；　but　he　made　himself　do　it　anyway。　This　time　he　caught　the　first　raven　that　tried　to　escape。　A　moment　later；　it　was　clawing　its　way　up　through　the　falling　snow；　bearing　word　of　the　attack。
　His　duty　done；　he　finished　dressing　with　clumsy；　frightened　fingers；　donning　his　cap　and　surcoat　and　hooded　cloak　and　buckling　on　his　swordbelt；　buckling　it　real　tight　so　it　wouldn't　fall　down。　Then　he　found　his　pack　and　stuffed　all　his　things　inside；　spare　smallclothes　and　dry　socks；　the　dragonglass　arrowheads　and　spearhead　Jon　had　given　him　and　the　old　horn　too；　his　parchments；　inks；　and　quills；　the　maps　he'd　been　drawing；　and　a　rock…hard　garlic　sausage　he'd　been　saving　since　the　Wall。　He　tied　it　all　up　and　shouldered　the　pack　onto　his　back。　The　Lord　mander　said　I　wasn't　to　rush　to　the　ringwall；　he　recalled；　but　he　said　I　shouldn't　e　running　to　him　either。　Sam　took　a　deep　breath　and　realized　that　he　did　not　know　what　to　do　next。
　He　remembered　turning　in　a　circle；　lost；　the　fear　growing　inside　him　as　it　always　did。　There　were　dogs　barking　and　horses　trumpeting；　but　the　snow　muffled　the　sounds　and　made　them　seem　far　away。　Sam　could　see　nothing　beyond　three　yards；　not　even　the　torches　burning　along　the　low　stone　wall　that　ringed　the　crown　of　the　hill。　Could　the　torches　have　gone　out？　That　was　too　scary　to　think　about。　The　horn　blew　thrice　long；　three　long　blasts　means　Others。　The　white　walkers　of　the　wood；　the　cold　shadows；　the　monsters　of　the　tales　that　made　him　squeak　and　tremble　as　a　boy；　riding　their　giant　ice…spiders；　hungry　for　blood　。　。　。
　Awkwardly　he　drew　his　sword；　and　plodded　heavily　through　the　snow　holding　it。　A　dog　ran　past　barking；　and　he　saw　some　of　the　men　from　the　Shadow　Tower；　big　bearded　men　with　longaxes　and　eight…foot　spears。　He　felt　safer　for　their　pany；　so　he　followed　them　to　the　wall。　When　he　saw　the　torches　still　burning　atop　the　ring　of　stones　a　shudder　of　relief　went　through　him。
　The　black　brothers　stood　with　swords　and　spears　in　hand；　watching　the　snow　fall；　waiting。　Ser　Mallador　Locke　went　by　on　his　horse；　wearing　a　snow…speckled　helm。　Sam　stood　well　back　behind　the　others；　looking　for　Grenn　or　Dolorous　Edd。　If　I　have　to　die；　let　me　die　beside　my　friends；　he　remembered　thinking。　But　all　the　men　around　him　were　strangers；　Shadow　Tower　men　under　the　mand　of　the　ranger　named　Blane。
　〃Here　they　e；〃　he　heard　a　brother　say。
　〃Notch；〃　said　Blane；　and　twenty　black　arrows　were　pulled　from　as　many　quivers；　and　notched　to　as　many　bowstrings。
　〃Gods　be　good；　there's　hundreds；〃　a　voice　said　softly。
　〃Draw；〃　Blane　said；　and　then；　〃hold。〃　Sam　could　not　see　and　did　not　want　to　see。　The　men　of　the　Night's　Watch　stood　behind　their　torches；　waiting　with　arrows　pulled　back　to　their　ears；　as　something　came　up　that　dark；　slippery　slope　through　the　snow。　〃Hold；〃　Blane　said　again；　〃hold；　hold。〃　And　then；　〃Loose。〃
　The　arrows　whispered　as　they　flew。
　A　ragged　cheer　went　up　from　the　men　along　the　ringwall；　but　it　died　quickly。　〃They're　not　stopping；　m'lord；〃　a　man　said　to　Blane；　and　another　shouted；　〃More！　Look　there；　ing　from　the　trees；　〃　and　yet　another　said；　〃Gods　ha'　mercy；　they's　crawling。　They's　almost　here；　they's　on　us！〃　Sam　had　been　backing　away　by　then；　shaking　like　the　last　leaf　on　the　tree　when　the　wind　kicks　up；　as　much　from　cold　as　from　fear。　it　had　been　very　cold　that　night。　Even　colder　than　now　The　snow　feels　almost　warm。　I　feel　better　now　A　little　rest　was　all　I　needed。　Maybe　in　a　little　while　I'll　be　strong　enough　to　walk　again。　In　a　little　while。
　A　horse　stepped　past　his　head；　a　shaggy　grey　beast　with　snow　in　its　mane　and　hooves　crusted　with　ice。　Sam　watched　it　e　and　watched　it　go。　Another　appeared　from　out　of　the　falling　snow；　with　a　man　in　black　leading　it。　When　he　saw　Sam　in　his　path　he　cursed　him　and　led　the　horse　around。　I　wish　I　had　a　horse；　he　thought。　If　I　had　a　horse　I　could　keep　going。　I　could　sit；　and　even　sleep　some　in　the　saddle。　Most　of　their　mounts　had　been　lost　at　the　Fist；　though；　and　those　that　remained　carried　their　food；　their　torches；　and　their　wounded。　Sam　wasn't　wounded。　Only　fat　and　weak；　and　the　greatest　craven　in　the　Seven　Kingdoms。
　He　was　such　a　coward。　Lord　Randyll；　his　father；　had　always　said　so；　and　he　had　been　right。　Sam　was　his　heir；　but　he　had　never　been　worthy；　so　his　father　had　sent　him　away　to　the　Wall。　His　little　brother　Dickon　would　inherit　the　Tarly　lands　and　castle；　and　the　greatsword　Heartsbane　that　the　lords　of　Horn　Hill　had　borne　so　proudly　for　centuries。　He　wondered　whether　Dickon　would　shed　a　tear　for　his　brother　who　died　in　the　snow；　somewhere　off　beyond　the　edge　of　the　world。　Why　should　he？　A　coward's　not　worth　weeping　over。　He　had　heard　his　father　tell　his　mother　as　much；　half　a　hundred　times。　The　Old　Bear　knew　it　too。
　〃Fire　arrows；〃　the　Lord　mander　roared　that　night　on　the　Fist；　when　he　appeared　suddenly　astride　his　horse；　〃give　them　flame。〃　It　was　then　he　noticed　Sam　there　quaking。　〃Tarly！　Get　out　of　here！　Your　place　is　with　the　ravens。〃
　〃I　。　。　。　I　。　。　。　I　got　the　messages　away。〃
　〃Good。〃　On　Mormont's　shoulder　his　own　raven　echoed；　〃Good；　good。
　The　Lord　mander　looked　huge　in　fur　and　mail。　Behind　his　black　iron　visor；　his　eyes　were　fierce。　〃You're　in　the　way　here。　Go　back　to　your　cages。　If　I　need　to　send　another　message；　I　don't　want　to　have　to　find　you　first。　See　that　the　birds　are　ready。〃　He　did　not　wait　for　a　response；　but　turned　his　horse　and　trotted　around　the　ring；　shouting；　〃Fire！　Give　them　fire！〃
　Sam　did　not　need　to　be　told　twice。　He　went　back　to　the　birds；　as　fast　as　his　fat　legs　could　carry　him。　I　should　write　the　message　ahead　of　time；　he　thought；　so　we　can　get　the　birds　away　as　fast　as　need　be。　It　took　him　longer　than　it　should　have　to　light　his　little　fire；　to　warm　the　frozen　ink。　He　sat　beside　it　on　a　rock　with　quill　and　parchment；　and　wrote　his　messages。
　Attacked　amidst　snow　and　cold；　but　we've　thrown　them　back　with　fire　arrows；　he　wrote；　as　he　heard　Thoren　Smallwood's　voice　ring　out　with　a　mand　of；　〃Notch；　draw　。　。　。　loose。〃　The　flight　of　arrows　made　a　sound　as　sweet　as　a　mother's　prayer。　〃Burn；　you　dead　bastards；　burn；〃　Dywen　sang　out；　cackling。　The　brothers　cheered　and　cursed。　All　safe；　he　wrote。　We　remain　on　the　Fist　of　the　First　Men。　Sam　hoped　they　were　better　archers　than　him。
　He　put　that　note　aside　and　found　another　blank　parchment。　Still　fighting　on　the　Fist；　amidst　heavy　snow；　he　wrote　when　someone　shouted；　〃They're　still　ing。〃　Result　uncertain。　〃Spears；〃　someone　said。　It　might　have　been　Ser　Mallador；　but　Sam　could　not　swear　to　it。　Wights　attacked　us　on　the　Fist；　in　snow；　he　wrote；　but　we　drove　them　off　with　fire。　He　turned　his　head。　Through　the　drifting　snow；　all　he　could　see　was　the　huge　fire　at　the　center　of　the　camp；　with　mounted　men　moving　restlessly　around　it。　The　reserve；　he　knew；　ready　to　ride　down　anything　that　breached　the　ringwall。　They　had　armed　themselves　with　torches　in　place　of　swords；　and　were　lighting　them　in　the　flames。
　Wights　all　around　us；　he　wrote；　when　he　heard　the　shouts　from　the　north　face。　ing　up　from　north　and　south　at　once。　Spears　and　swords　don't　stop　them；　only　fire。　〃Loose；　loose；　loose；〃　a　voice　screamed　in　the　night；　and　another　shouted；　〃Bloody　huge；〃　and　a　third　voice　said；　〃A　giant！〃　and　a　fourth　insisted；　〃A　bear；　a　bear！〃　A　horse　shrieked　and　the　hounds　began　to　bay；　and　there　was　so　much　shouting　that　Sam　couldn't　make　out　the　voices　anymore。　He　wrote　faster；　note　after　note。　Dead　wildlings；　and　a　giant；　or　maybe　a　bear；　on　us；　all　around。　He　heard　the　crash　of　steel　on　wood；　which　could　only　mean　one　thing。　Wights　over　the　ringwall。　Fighting　inside　the　camp。　A　dozen　mounted　brothers　pounded　past　him　toward　the　east　wall；　burning　brands　streaming　flames　in　each　rider's　hand。　Lord　mander　Mormont　is　meeting　them　with　fire。　We've　won。　We're　winning。　We're　holding　our　own。　We're　cutting　our　way　free　and　retreating　for　the　Wall。　We're　trapped　on　the　Fist；　hard　pressed。
　One　of　the　Shadow　Tower　men　came　staggering　out　of　the　darkness　to　fall　at　Sam's　feet。　He　crawled　within　a　foot　of　the　fire　before　he　died。　Lost；　Sam　wrote；　the　battle's　lost。　We're　all　lost。
　Why　must　he　remember　the　fight　at　the　Fist？　He　didn't　want　to　remember。　Not　that。　He　tried　to　make　himself　remember　his　mother；　or　his　little　sister　Talla；　or　that　girl　Gilly　at　Craster's　Keep。　Someone　was　shaking　him　by　the　shoulder。　〃Get　up；〃　a　voice　said。　〃Sam；　you　can't　go　to　sleep　here。　Get　up　and　keep　walking。〃
　I　wasn't　asleep；　I　was　remembering。　〃Go　away；〃　he　said；　his　words　frosting　in　the　cold　air。　〃I'm　well。　I　want　to　rest。〃
　〃Get　up。〃　Grenn's　voice；　harsh　and　husky。　He　loomed　over　Sam；　his　blacks　crusty　with　snow。　〃There's　no　resting；　the　Old　Bear　said。　You'll