srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第8章

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　memories　of　the　Land's　beauty。　He　recalled　the　bewitching　Dance　of　the　Celebration　of　Spring；　and　the　lush；　heart…soothing　health　of　the　Andelainian　Hills；　the　uneasy　eldritch　gleaming　of　Morinmoss；　the　stern　swift　Plains　of　Ra　and　the　rampant　Ranyhyn；　the　great　horses。　And　he　remembered　what　it　was　like　to　feel；　to　have　lively　nerves　in　his　fingers；　capable　of　touching　grass　and　stone。　The　poignancy　of　it　made　his　heart　ache。
　〃Your　hope　misleads　you；〃　he　groaned　into　the　stillness　after　Elena's　appeal。　〃I　don't　know　anything　about　power。　It　has　something　to　do　with　life；　and　I'm　as　good　as　dead。　Or　what　do　you　think　life　is？　Life　is　feeling。　I've　lost　that。　I'm　a　leper。〃
　He　might　have　started　to　rage　again；　but　a　new　voice　cut　sharply　through　his　protest。　〃Then　why　don't　you　throw　away　your　ring？〃
　He　turned；　and　found　himself　confronting　the　warrior　who　had　been　sitting　at　the　end　of　the　Lords'　table。　The　man　had　e　down　to　the　bottom　of　the　Close；　where　he　faced　Covenant　with　his　hands　on　his　hips。　To　Covenant's　surprise；　the　man's　eyes　were　covered　with　dark；　wraparound　sunglasses。　Behind　the　glasses；　his　head　moved　alertly；　as　if　he　were　studying　everything。　He　seemed　to　possess　a　secret。　Without　the　support　of　his　eyes；　the　slight　smile　on　his　lips　looked　private　and　unfathomable；　like　an　utterance　in　an　alien　tongue。
　Covenant　grasped　the　inconsistency　of　the　sunglasses…they。　were　oddly　out　of　place　in　the　Close　but　he　was　too　stung　by　the　speaker's　question　to　stop　for　discrepancies。　Stiffly；　he　answered；　〃It's　my　wedding　ring。〃
　The　man　shrugged　away　this　reply。　〃You　talk　about　your　wife　in　the　past　tense。　You're　separated…or　divorced。　You　can't　have　your　life　both　ways　now。　Either　get　rid　of　the　ring　and　stick　to　whatever　it　is　you　seem　to　think　is　real；　or　get　rid　of　her　and　do　your　duty　here。〃
　〃My　duty？〃　The　affront　of　the　man's　judgment　gave　Covenant　the　energy　to　object。　〃How　do　you　know　what　my　duty　is？〃
　〃My　name　is　Hile　Troy。〃　The　man　gave　a　slight　bow。　〃I'm　the　Warmark　of　the　Warward　of　Lord's　Keep。　My　job　is　to　figure　out　how　to　meet　Foul's　army。〃
　〃Rile　Troy；〃　added　Elena　slowly；　almost　hesitantly；　〃es　from　your　world；　Unbeliever。〃
　What？
　The　High　Lord's　assertion　seemed　to　snatch　the　ground　from　under　Covenant。　The　enervation　in　his　bones　suddenly　swamped　him。　Vertigo　came　over　him　as　if　he　were　on　the　edge　of　a　cliff；　and　he　stumbled。
　Mhoram　caught　him　as　he　dropped　heavily　to　his　knees。
　His　movement　distracted　the　Bloodguard　holding　dukkha。　Before　they　could　react；　the　Waynhim　broke　away　from　them　and　sprang　at　Covenant；　screaming　with　fury。
　To　save　Covenant；　Mhoram　spun　and　blocked　dukkha's　charge　with　his　staff。　The　next　instant；　the　Bloodguard　recaptured　the　Waynhim。　But　Covenant　did　not　see　it。　When　Mhoram　turned　away　from　him；　he　fell　on　his　face　beside　the　graveling　pit。　He　felt　weak；　overburdened　with　despair；　as　if　he　were　bleeding　to　death。　For　a　few　moments；　he　lost　consciousness。
　He　awoke　to　the　touch　of　cool　relief　on　his　forehead。　His　head　was　in　Mhoram's　lap；　and　the　Lord　was　gently　spreading　hurtloam　over　his　cut　brow。
　He　could　already　feel　the　effect　of　the　mud。　A　soothing　caress　spread　from　his　forehead　into　the　muscles　of　his　face；　relaxing　the　tension　which　gripped　his　features。　Drowsiness　welled　up　in　him　as　the　healing　earth　unfettered　him；　anodyned　the　restless　bondage　of　his　spirit。　Though　his　weariness；　he　saw　the　trap　of　his　delusion　winding　about　him。　With　as　much　supplication　as　he　could　put　into　his　voice；　he　said　to　Mhoram；　〃Get　me　out　of　here。〃
　The　Lord　seemed　to　understand。　He　nodded　firmly；　then　got　to　his　feet；　lifting　Covenant　with　him。　Without　a　word　to　the　Council；　he　turned　his　back　and　went　up　the　stairs；　half　carrying　Covenant　out　of　the　Close。
　
　
　FOUR：　〃May　Be　Lost〃
　
　COVENANT　hardly　heard　the　shutting　of　the　great　doors　behind　him；　he　was　hardly　conscious　of　his　surroundings　at　all。　His　attention　was　focused　inward　on　the　hurtloam's　progress。　It　seemed　to　spread　around　his　skull　and　down　his　flesh；　soothing　as　it　radiated　within　him。　It　made　his　skin　tingle；　and　the　sensation　soon　covered　his　face　and　neck。　He　scrutinized　it　as　if　it　were　a　poison　he　had　taken　to　end　his　life。
　When　the　touch　of　the　loam　reached　past　the　base　of　his　throat　into　his　chest；　he　stumbled；　and　could　not　recover。　Bannor　took　his　other　arm。　The　Lord　and　the　Bloodguard　carried　him　on　through　the　stone　city；　working　generally　upward　through　the　interlocking　levels　of　Lord's　Keep。　At　last；　they　brought　him　to　a　spacious　suite　of　living　quarters。　Gently；　they　bore　him　into　the　bedroom；　laid　him　on　the　bed；　and　undressed　him　enough　to　make　him　fortable。
　Then　Mhoram　bent　close　to　him　and　said　reassuringly；　〃；This　is　the　power　of　the　hurtloam。　When　it　works　upon　a　dire　wound；　it　brings　a　deep　sleep　to　speed　healing。　You　will　rest　well　now。　You　have　done　without　rest　too　long。〃　He　and　Bannor　turned　to　go。
　But　Covenant　could　feel　the　cool；　tingling　touch　near　his　heart。　Weakly；　he　called　Mhoram　back。　He　was　full　of　dread；　he　could　not　bear　to　be　alone。　Without　caring　what　he　said…seeking　only　to　keep　Mhoram　near　him…he　asked；　〃Why　did　that…dukkha　attack　me？〃
　Again；　Lord　Mhoram　appeared　to　understand。　He　brought　a　wooden　stool　near　the　head　of　the　bed；　and　seated　himself　there。　In　a　quiet；　steady　voice；　he　said；
　〃That　is　a　searching　question；　my　friend。　Dukkha　has　been　tormented　out　of　all　recognition；　and　I　can　only　guess　at　the　sore　impulses　which　drive　it。　But　you　must　remember　that　it　is　a　Waynhim。　For　many　generations　after　the　Desecration；　when　the　new　Lords　began　their　work　at　Revelstone；　the　Waynhim　served　the　Land…not　out　of　allegiance　to　the　Lords；　but　rather　out　of　their　desire　to　expiate　to　the　Land　for　the　dangerous　works　and　dark　lore　of　the　ur…viles。　Such　a　creature　still　lives；　somewhere　far　within　dukkha。　Despite　what　has　been　done　to　it…even　if　its　soul　has　been　enslaved　by　the　power　of　the　Stone；　so　that　now　it　serves　the　Despiser…it　still　remembers　what　it　was；　and　hates　what　it　is。　That　is　Lord　Foul's　way　in　all　things…to　force　his　foes　to　bee　that　which　they　most　hate；　and　to　destroy　that　which　they；　most　love。
　　〃My　friend；　this　is　not　pleasant　to　say。　But　it　is　in　my　heart　that　dukkha　attacked　you　because　you　refuse　to　aid　the　Land。　The　Waynhim　knows　the　might　you　possess…it　is　of　the　Demondim；　and　in　all　likelihood　prehends　more　of　the　uses　and　power　of　white　gold　than　any　Lord。　Now　it　is　in　pain　too　great　to　allow　it　to　understand　you。　The　last　remnant　of　itself　saw　dimly　that　you…that　you　refuse。　For　a　moment；　it　became　its　former　self　enough　to　act。
　〃Ah；　ur…Lord。　You　have　said　that　the　Land　is　a　dream　for　you…and　that　you　fear　to　be　made　mad　But　madness　is　not　the　only　danger　in　dreams。　There　is　also　the　danger　that　something　may　be　lost　which　can　never　be　regained。〃
　Covenant　sighed。　The　Lord　had　given　him　an　explanation　he　could　grasp。　But　when　Mhoram's　steady　voice　stopped；　he　felt　how　much　he　needed　it…how　close　he　was　to　the　brink　of　some　precipice　which　appalled　him。　He　reached　a　hand　outward；　into　the　void　around　him；　and　felt　his　fingers　clasped　firmly　in　Mhoram's。　He　tried　once　more　to　make　himself　understood。
　〃She　was　my　wife；〃　he　breathed。　〃She　needed　me　She…she'll　never　forgive　me　for　doing　this　to　her。〃
　He　was　so　exhausted　that　he　could　no　longer　see　Mhoram's　face。　But　as　he　ran　out　of　consciousness；　he　felt　the　Lord's　unfaltering　hold　on　his　hand。　Mhoram's　care　forted　him；　and　he　slept。
　Then　he　hung　under　a　broad　sky　of　dreams；　measurable　only　by　the　strides　of　stars。　Out　of　the　dim　heavens；　a　succession　of　dark　shapes　seemed　to　hover　and　strike。　Like　carrion；　he　was　helpless　to　fend　them　off。　But　always　a　hand　gripped　his　and　consoled　him。　It　anchored　him　until　he　returned　to　consciousness。
　Without　opening　his　eyes；　he　lay　still　and　probed　himself　tentatively；　as　if　he　were　testing　buboes。　He　was　enfolded　from　his　chest　down　in　soft　clean　sheets。　And　he　could　feel　the　fabric　with　his　toes。　The　cold　numbness　of　dead　nerves　was　gone　from　them；　warmed　away　by　a　healing　glow　which　reached　into　the　marrow　of　his　bones。
　The　change　in　his　fingers　was　even　'more　obvious。　His　right　fist　was　knotted　in　the　sheets。　When　he　moved　his　fingers；　he　could　feel　the　texture　of　the　cloth　with　their　tips。　The　grip　on　his　left　hand　was　so　hard　that　he　could　feel　the　pulse　in　his　knuckles。
　But　nerves　do　not　regenerate…cannot
　Damnation！　he　groaned。　The　sensation　of　touch　prodded　his　heart　like　fear。　Involuntarily；　he　whispered；　〃No。　No。〃　But　his　tone　was　full　of　futility。
　〃Ah；　my　friend；〃　Mhoram　sighed；　〃your　dreams　have　been　full　of　such　refusals。　But　I　do　not　understand　them。　I　hear　in　your　breathing　that　you　have　resisted　your　own　healing。　And　the　oute　is　obscure　to　me。　I　cannot　tell　whether　your　denials　have　brought　you　to　good　or　ill。〃
　Covenant　looked　up　into　Mhoram's　sympathetic　face。　The　Lord　still　sat　beside　the　bed；　his　iron…shod　staff　leaned　against　the　wall　within　easy　reach　of　his　hand。　But　now　there　were　no　torches　in　the　room。　Sunlight　poured　through　a　large　oriel　beside　the　bed。
　Mhoram's　gaze　made　Covenant　acutely　conscious　of　their　clasped　hands。　Carefully；　he　extricated　his　fingers。　Then　he　propped　himself　up　on　his　elbows；　and　asked　how　long　he　had　been　asleep。　His　rest　after　the　shouting　he　had　done　in　the　Close　made　his　voice　rattle　harshly　in　his　throat。
　〃It　is　now　early　afternoon；〃　Mhoram　replied。　〃The　summoning　was　performed　in　the　evening　yesterday。〃
　〃Have　you　been　here…all　that　time？〃
　The　Lord　smiled。　〃No。　During　the　night　How　shall　I　say　it？　I　was　called　away。　High　Lord　Elena　sat　with　you　in　my　absence。〃　After　a　moment；　he　added；　〃She　will　speak　with　you　this　evening；　if　you　are　willing。〃　Covenant　did　not　respond。　The　mention　of　Elena　reawakened　his　outrage　and　fear　at　the　act　which　had　pelled　him　into　the　Land。　He　thought　of　the　summoning　as　her　doing；　it　was　her　voice　which　had　snatched　him　away　from　Joan。　Joan！　he　wailed。　To　a　cover　his　distress；　he　climbed　out　of　bed；　gathered　up　his　clothes；　and　went　in　search　of　a　place　to　wash　himself。
　In　the　next　room；　he　found　a　stone　basin　and　tub　j　connected　to　a　series　of　balanced　stone　valves　which　allowed　him　to　run　water　where　he　wanted　it。　He　filled　；　the　basin。　When　he　put　his　hands　into　the　water；　its　sharp　chill　thrilled　the　new　vitality　of　his　nerves。　Angrily；　he　thrust　his　head　down　into　the　water；　and　did　not　raise　it　until　the　cold　began　to　make　the　bones　of　his　skull　hurt。　Then　he　went　and　stood　dripping　over　a　warm　pot　of　graveling　near　the　tub。
　While　the　glow　of　the　fire…stones　dried　him；　he　silenced　the　aching　of　his　heart。　He　was　a　leper；　and　knew　down　to　the　core　of　his　skeleton　the　vital　importance　of　recognizing　facts。　Joan　was　lost　to　him；　that　was　a　fact；　like　his　disease；　beyond　any　possibility　of　change。　She　would　bee　angry　when　he　did　not　speak　to　her；　and　would　hang　up；　thinking　that　he　had　deliberately　rebuffed　her　appeal；　her　proud；　brave　effort　to　bridge　the　loneliness　between　them。　And　he　could　do　nothing　about　it。　He　was　trapped　in　his　delusion　again。　If　he　meant　to　survive；　he　could　not　afford　the　luxury　of　grieving　over　lost　hopes。　He　was　a　leper；　all　his　hopes　were　false。　The