tg.wizardfirstrule-第47章

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nly　way　that　was　clear　was　ahead。
　
　〃Richard；〃　Kahlan　whispered；　〃do　you　think　you　should　take　out　the　night　stone？　I　can　hardly　see　the　path。〃　She　was　gripping　his　hand　tightly。
　
　Richard　hesitated。　〃I　don't　want　to　until　we　absolutely　need　it。　I'm　afraid　of　what　might　happen。〃
　
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　
　〃Well；　those　shadows　haven't　e　for　us　yet。　Maybe　because　they　can't　see　us；　because　of　the　bones。〃　He　paused　a　moment。　〃But　what　if　they　can　see　the　light　from　the　night　stone？〃
　
　Kahlan　bit　her　bottom　lip　in　worry。　They　strained　to　pick　out　the　trail　as　it　twisted　to　go　around　trees　and　boulders；　over　rocks　and　roots；　cutting　its　way　across　the　hillside。　The　soft　scraping　sound　was　nearer；　all　around。　It　sounded　like　。　。　。　It　sounded　like　claws　on　rock；　he　thought。
　
　Two　shadows　stood　ahead；　close；　the　trail　between　them。　Kahlan　pressed　tight　against　him　and　held　her　breath　as　they　squeezed　past。　She　buried　her　face　against　his　shoulder　when　they　were　even　with　the　shadow　things。　Richard　put　his　arm　around　her；　holding　her　tight。　He　knew　how　she　felt。　He　was　terrified；　too。　His　heart　pounded。　It　seemed　they　were　going　too　far　with　each　step；　getting　in　too　deep。　He　looked　behind；　but　in　the　darkness　there　was　not　enough　light　to　see　if　the　shadows　were　standing　on　the　trail。
　
　Abruptly；　an　inky　black　shape　loomed　up　before　them。　It　was　an　enormous　boulder；　split　down　the　middle。
　
　The　Narrows。
　
　They　pressed　their　backs　up　against　the　boulder；　at　the　split。　It　was　too　dark　to　see　the　trail　anymore；　or　if　there　were　any　shadow　things　close。　They　couldn't　follow　the　trail　through　the　Narrows　without　the　light　of　the　night　stone；　it　was　far　too　dangerous。　One　wrong　step　in　the　Narrows　and　they　were　dead。　In　the　stillness　the　scraping　sound　was　closer；　and　all　around　them。　Richard　reached　into　his　pocket　and　pulled　out　the　leather　pouch。　He　loosened　the　drawstring　and　dumped　the　night　stone　into　his　palm。
　
　Warm　light　flared　into　the　night；　lighting　the　woods　around；　casting　eerie　shadows。　He　held　the　stone　out；　to　see　better。
　
　Kahlan　gasped。
　
　In　the　warm　yellowish　illumination；　they　could　see　a　wall　of　the　shadow　things；　hundreds　of　them；　not　an　inch　between　any　two。　They　formed　a　half　circle　less　than　twenty　feet　away。　On　the　ground　were　dozens　and　dozens　of　hump…shaped　creatures；　almost　looking　like　rocks　at　first。　But　they　weren't　rocks。　Gray　armor　bands　interlocked　across　their　backs；　jagged　spikes　poked　out　around　the　bottom　edge。
　
　Grippers。
　
　That　was　what　the　sound　was；　their　claws　on　the　rocks。　The　grippers　were　moving　with　an　odd；　waddling　gait；　their　humped　bodies　swaying　from　side　to　side　as　they　struggled　forward。　Not　fast；　but　steady。　Some　were　only　a　few　feet　away。
　
　For　the　first　time；　the　shadows　began　to　move；　floating；　drifting；　tightening　their　ring。
　
　Kahlan　stood　frozen；　her　back　against　the　boulder；　her　eyes　wide。　Richard　reached　across　the　split；　grabbed　a　fistful　of　her　shirt　and　pulled　her　into　the　opening。　The　walls　were　wet　and　slick。　The　tightness　of　the　space　made　him　feel　as　if　his　heart　were　ing　up　in　his　throat。　He　didn't　like　tight　places。　They　backed　through；　turning　occasionally　to　check　their　way。　He　held　the　night　stone　out；　lighting　the　shadow　things　as　they　came。　Grippers　crawled　into　the　split。
　
　Richard　could　hear　the　sound　of　Kahlan's　rapid　breathing　echoing　in　the　confining；　dank　space。　They　continued　backing　up；　their　shoulders　sliding　against　the　sides　of　the　rock。　Cold；　slimy　water　soaked　their　shirts。　In　one　spot　they　had　to　duck　down　and　turn　sideways　because　the　crack　narrowed；　almost　closing　together；　open　just　enough　for　them　to　pass　down　low。　Forest　debris　fallen　into　the　split　lay　in　the　dampness；　deposing。　The　place　smelled　of　sickening　rot。　They　continued　moving　sideways；　and　at　last　reached　the　other　side。　The　shadows　stopped　when　they　reached　the　opening　in　the　rock。　The　grippers　didn't。
　
　Richard　kicked　one　that　got　too　close；　sending　it　tumbling　through　the　leaves　and　sticks　on　the　floor　of　the　split。　Landing　on　its　back；　it　clawed　at　the　air；　snapping　and　hissing；　twisting　and　rocking；　until　it　righted　itself。　When　it　did；　the　gripper　rose　up　on　its　claw…tipped　feet　and　let　out　a　clicking　growl　before　ing　on　once　again。
　
　Both　turned　quickly　to　follow　the　path。　Richard　held　the　night　stone　out　to　light　the　Narrows　trail
　
　Kahlan　drew　a　sharp　breath。
　
　The　warm　light　illuminated　the　hillside　where　the　Narrows　path　should　have　been。　Spread　out　before　them　as　far　as　they　could　see　was　a　mass　of　rubble。　Rocks；　tree　limbs；　splintered　wood；　and　mud；　all　tumbled　together。　A　slide　had　recently　plunged　down　the　hillside。
　
　The　Narrows　trail　had　been　swept　away。
　
　They　took　a　step　beyond　the　rock　to　have　a　better　look。
　
　Green　light　of　the　boundary　came　on；　surprising　them。　They　stepped　back　as　one。
　
　〃Richard　。。。
　
　Kahlan　clutched　his　arm。　The　grippers　were　at　their　heels。　The　shadows　floated　in　the　split
　
　CHAPTER　19
　TORCHES　SET　IN　ORNATE　gold　brackets　lit　the　walls　of　the　crypt　with　flickering　light；　reflected　off　the　polished　pink　granite　of　the　huge；　vaulted　room；　lending　their　smell　of　pitch　to　the　fragrance　of　roses　in　the　dead；　still　air。　White　roses；　replaced　every　morning　without　fail　for　the　last　three　decades；　filled　each　of　the　fifty…seven　gold　vases　set　in　the　wall　beneath　each　of　the　fifty…seven　torches　that　represented　each　year　in　the　life　of　the　deceased。　The　floor　was　white　marble；　so　that　any　white　rose　petal　that　fell　would　not　be　a　distraction　before　it　could　be　whisked　away。　A　large　staff　saw　to　it　that　no　torch　was　allowed　to　go　spent　for　longer　than　a　few　moments；　and　that　rose　petals　were　not　allowed　to　rest　long　upon　the　floor。　The　staff　was　attentive　and　devoted　to　their　tasks。　Failure　to　be　so　resulted　in　an　immediate　beheading。　Guards　watched　the　tomb　day　and　night　to　be　sure　the　torches　burned；　the　flowers　were　fresh；　and　no　rose　petal　sat　too　long　on　the　floor。　And　of　course　to　carry　out　executions。
　
　Staff　positions　were　filled　from　the　surrounding　D'Haran　countryside。　Being　a　member　of　the　crypt　staff　was　an　honor；　by　law。　The　honor　brought　with　it　the　promise　of　a　quick　death　if　an　execution　was　in　order。　A　slow　death　in　D'Hara　was　greatly　feared；　and　mon。　New　recruits；　for　fear　they　would　speak　ill　of　the　dead　king　while　in　the　crypt；　had　their　tongues　cut　out。
　
　The　Master；　on　the　evenings　when　he　was　at　home　in　the　People's　Palace；　would　visit　the　tomb。　No　staff　or　tomb　guards　were　allowed　to　be　present　during　these　visits。　The　staff　had　spent　a　busy　afternoon　replacing　the　torches　with　freshly　burning　ones　and　testing　each　of　the　hundreds　of　white　roses　by　gently　shaking　them　to　make　sure　none　of　the　petals　were　loose；　since　any　torch　going　out　during　the　royal　visit；　or　any　rose　petal　falling　to　the　floor；　would　result　in　an　execution。
　
　A　short　pillar　in　the　center　of　the　immense　room　supported　the　coffin　itself；　giving　it　the　effect　of　floating　in　the　air。　The　golden　shrouded　coffin　glowed　in　the　torchlight。　Carved　symbols　covered　its　sides；　and　continued　in　a　ring　around　the　room；　cut　into　the　granite　beneath　the　torches　and　gold　vases：　instructions　in　an　ancient　language　from　a　father　to　a　son　on　the　process　of　going　to　the　underworld；　and　returning。　Instructions　in　an　ancient　language　understood　by　only　a　handful　other　than　the　son；　none　but　the　son　lived　in　D'Hara。　All　the　others　in　D'Hara　who　understood　had　long　ago　been　put　to　death。　Someday；　the　rest　would　be。
　
　The　crypt　staff　and　guards　had　been　sent　away。　The　Master　was　visiting　his　father's　tomb。　Two　of　his　personal　guards　stood　watch　over　him；　one　to　each　side　of　the　massive；　elaborately　carved　and　polished　door。　Their　sleeveless　leather…and…mail　uniforms　helped　display　their　bulky　forms；　the　sharp　contours　of　their　heavy　muscles；　and　the　bands　they　wore　around　their　arms　just　above　their　elbows；　bands　with　raised　projections　sharpened　to　deadly　edges；　used　in　close　bat　to　tear　apart　an　adversary。
　
　Darken　Rahl　ran　his　delicate　fingers　over　the　carved　symbols　on　his　father's　tomb。　An　immaculate　white　robe；　its　only　decoration　gold　embroidery　in　a　narrow　band　around　the　neck　and　down　the　front；　covered　his　lean　frame　to　within　an　inch　of　the　floor。　He　wore　no　jewelry；　other　than　a　curved　knife　in　a　gold　scabbard　embossed　with　symbols　warning　the　spirits　to　give　way。　The　belt　that　held　it　was　woven　of　gold　wire。　Fine；　straight；　blond　hair　hung　almost　to　his　shoulders。　His　eyes　were　a　pain…　fully　handsome　shade　of　blue。　His　features　set　off　his　eyes　perfectly。
　
　Many　women　had　been　taken　to　his　bed。　Because　of　his　striking　looks；　and　his　power；　some　went　eagerly。　The　others　went　despite　his　looks；　but　because　of　his　power。　Whether　or　not　they　were　eager　did　not　concern　him。　Were　they　unwise　enough　to　be　repulsed　when　they　saw　the　scars；　they　entertained　him　in　ways　they　could　not　have　foreseen。
　
　Darken　Rahl；　as　had　his　father　before　him；　considered　women　merely　vessels　for　the　man's　seed；　the　dirt　it　grew　in；　unworthy　of　higher　recognition。　Darken　Rahl；　as　his　father　before　him；　would　have　no　wife。　His　own　mother　had　been　nothing　more　than　the　first　to　sprout　his　father's　wondrous　seed；　and　then　she　had　been　discarded；　as　was　only　fitting。　If　he　had　siblings；　he　didn't　know；　nor　did　it　matter；　he　was　firstborn；　all　glory　fell　to　him。　He　was　the　one　born　with　the　gift；　and　the　one　to　whom　his　father　passed　the　knowledge。　If　he　had　half　brothers　or　sisters；　they　were　merely　weeds；　to　be　expunged　if　discovered。
　
　Darken　Rahl　spoke　the　words　silently　in　his　mind　as　his　fingers　traced　the　symbols。　Although　it　was　of　the　utmost　importance　that　the　directives　were　followed　exactly；　he　had　no　fear　of　making　an　error；　the　instructions　were　burned　into　his　memory。　But　he　enjoyed　reliving　the　thrill　of　the　passage；　of　hanging　between　life　and　death。　He　savored　going　into　the　underworld；　manding　the　dead。　He　was　impatient　for　the　next　journey。
　
　Footsteps　echoed　at　someone's　approach。　Darken　Rahl　showed　no　concern；　or　interest；　but　his　guards　did；　they　drew　their　swords。　No　one　was　allowed　to　e　into　the　crypt　with　the　Master。　When　they　saw　who　it　was；　they　stood　down；　replacing　their　weapons。　No　one　but　Demmin　Nass；　that　is。
　
　Demmin　Nass；　the　right　hand　of　Rahl；　the　lightning　of　the　Master's　dark　thoughts；　was　a　man　as　big　as　those　he　manded。　As　he　strode　in；　ignoring　the　guards；　his　sharply　chiseled　muscles　stood　out　in　stark　relief　in　the　torchlight。　His　chest　was　covered　with　skin　as　smooth　as　that　of　the　young　boys　he　had　a　weakness　for。　In　stark　contrast；　his　face　was　riddled　with　pockmarks。　His　blond　hair　was　cropped　close　enough　to　cause　it　to　stand　up　in　a　collection　of　spikes。　A　streak　of　black　hair　started　in　the　middle　of　his　right　eyebrow　and　continued　back　over　his　head；　to　the　right　of　center。　It　made　him　recognizable　from　a　distance；　a　fact　appreciated　by　those　who　had　cause　to　know　of　him。
　
　Darken　Rahl　stood　absorbed　in　the　reading　of　the　symbols；　and　did　not　look　when　his　guards　drew　their　weapons；　or　when　they　replaced　them。　Although　his　guards　were　formidable；　they　were　unnecessary；　mere　accoutremen