srdonaldson.thepowerthatpreserves-第57节

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　　　　〃What　has　happened？〃　repeated　Mhoram　firmly。
　　　　〃At　your　mand；　we　followed　him。　When　he　learned　that　we　did　not　mean　to　leave　him；　he　reviled　us。　But　his　cursing　showed　us　a　part　of　the　reason　for　your　mand。　We　were　resolved　to　obey　you。　At　last　he　turned　from　us　like　a　broken　man　and　led　us　to　the　Close。
　　　　〃There　he　went　to　the　great　graveling　pit　and　knelt　beside　it。　While　we　watched　over　him　from　the　doors；　he　wept　and　prayed；　begging。　High　Lord；　it　is　in　my　heart　that　he　begged　for　peace。　But　he　found　no　peace。　When　he　raised　his　head；　we　saw…we　saw　abomination　in　his　face。　He…the　graveling…flame　came　from　the　fire…stones。　Fire　sprang　from　the　floor。　We　ran　down　to　him。　But　the　flames　forbade　us。　They　consumed　my　rade。　I　ran　to　you。〃
　　　　The　words　chilled　Mhoram's　heart；　but　he　replied　to　meet　the　pain　and　faltering　in　the　warrior's　face。　〃His　Oath　of　Peace　was　broken。　He　lost　self…trust；　and　fell　into　despair。　This　is　the　shadow　of　the　Gray　Slayer　upon　him。〃
　　　　After　a　moment；　the　warrior　said　hesitantly；　〃I　have　heard…it　is　said…is　this　not　the　Unbeliever's　doing？〃
　　　　〃Perhaps。　In　some　measure；　the　Unbeliever　is　Lord　Foul's　doing。　But　Trell's　despair　is　also　in　part　my　doing。　It　is　Trell's　own　doing。　The　Slayer's　great　strength　is　that　our　mortal　weakness　may　be　so　turned　against　us。〃
　　　　He　spoke　as　calmly　as　he　could；　but　before　he　was　within　a　hundred　yards　of　the　Close；　he　began　to　feel　the　heat　of　the　flames。　He　had　no　doubt　that　this　was　the　source　of　the　other　ill　Tohrm　had　sensed。　Hot　waves　of　desecration　radiated　in　all　directions　from　the　council　chamber。　As　he　neared　the　high　wooden　doors；　he　saw　that　they　were　smoldering；　nearly　aflame；　and　the　walls　shimmered　as　if　the　stone　were　about　to　melt。　He　was　panting　for　breath；　wincing　against　the　heat；　even　before　he　reached　the　open　doorway　and　looked　down　into　the　Close。
　　　　An　inferno　raged　within　it。　Floor；　tables；　seats…all　burned　madly；　spouted　roaring　flames　like　a　convulsion　of　thunder。　Heat　scorched　Mhoram's　face；　crisped　his　hair。　He　had　to　blink　tears　away　before　he　could　peer　down　through　the　conflagration　to　its　center。
　　　　There　Trell　stood　in　the　graveling　pit　like　the　core　of　a　holocaust；　bursting　with　flames　and　hurling　great　gouts　of　fire　at　the　ceiling　with　both　fists。　His　whole　form　blazed　like　incarnated　damnation；　white…hot　torment　striking　out　at　the　stone　it　loved　and　could　not　save。
　　　　The　sheer　power　of　it　staggered　Mhoram。　He　was　looking　at　the　onset　of　a　Ritual　of　Desecration。　Trell　had　found　in　his　own　despair　the　secret　which　Mhoram　had　guarded　so　fearfully；　and　he　was　using　that　secret　against　Revelstone。　If　he　were　not　stopped；　the　gates　would　only　be　the　first　part　of　the　Keep　to　break；　the　first　and　least　link　in　a　chain　of　destruction　which　might　tear　the　whole　plateau　to　rubble。
　　　　He　had　to　be　stopped。　That　was　imperative。　But　Mhoram　was　not　a　Gravelingas；　had　no　stone…lore　to　counter　the　might　which　made　this　fire　possible。　He　turned　to　Tohrm。
　　　　〃You　are　of　the　rhadhamaerl！''　he　shouted　over　the　raving　of　the　fire。　〃You　must　silence　this　flame！〃
　　　　〃Silence　it？〃　Tohrm　was　staring；　aghast；　into　the　blaze；　he　had　the　stricken　look　of　a　man　witnessing　the　ravage　of　his　dearest　love。　〃Silence　it？〃　He　did　not　shout；　Mhoram　could　only　prehend　him　by　reading　his　lips。　〃I　have　no　strength　to　equal　this。　I　am　a　Gravelingas　of　the　rhadhamaerl…not　Earthpower　incarnate。　He　will　destroy　us　all。〃
　　　　〃Tohrm！〃　the　High　Lord　cried。　〃You　are　the　Hearthrall　of　Lord's　Keep！　You　or　no　one　can　meet　this　need！〃
　　　　Tohrm　mouthed　soundlessly；　〃How？〃
　　　　〃I　will　acpany　you！　I　will　give　you　my　strength…I　will　place　all　my　power　in　you！〃
　　　　The　Hearthrall's　eyes　rolled　fearfully　away　from　the　Close　and　hauled　themselves　by　sheer　force　of　will　into　focus　on　the　High　Lord's　face。
　　　　〃We　will　burn。〃
　　　　〃We　will　endure！〃
　　　　Tohrm　met　Mhoram's　demand　for　a　long　moment。　Then　he　groaned。　He　could　not　refuse　to　give　himself　for　the　sake　of　the　Keep'　s　stone。　〃　If　you　are　with　me；〃　he　said　silently　through　the　roar。
　　　　Mhoram　whirled　to　Amatin。　〃Tohrm　and　I　will　go　into　the　Close。　You　must　preserve　us　from　the　fire。　Put　your　power　around　us…protect　us。〃
　　　　She　nodded　distractedly；　pushed　a　damp　strand　of　hair　out　of　her　face。　〃Go；〃　she　said　weakly。　〃Already　the　table　melts。〃
　　　　The　High　Lord　saw　that　she　was　right。　Before　their　eyes；　the　table　slumped　into　magma；　poured　down　to　the　lowest　level　of　the　Close　and　into　the　pit　around　Trell's　feet。
　　　　Mhoram　called　his　power　into　readiness　and　rested　the　shaft　of　his　staff　on　Tohrm's　shoulder。　Together；　they　faced　the　Close；　waited　while　Amatin　built　a　defense　around　them。　The　sensation　of　it　swarmed　over　their　skin　like　hiving　insects；　but　it　kept　back　the　heat。
　　　　When　she　signaled　to　them；　they　started　down　into　the　Close　as　if　they　were　struggling　into　a　furnace。
　　　　Despite　Amatin's　protection；　the　heat　slammed　into　them　like　the　fist　of　a　cataclysm。　Tohrm's　tunic　began　to　scorch。　Mhoram　felt　his　own　robe　blackening。　All　the　hair　on　their　heads　and　arms　shriveled。　But　the　High　Lord　put　heat　out　of　his　mind；　he　concentrated　on　his　staff　and　Tohrm。　He　could　feel　the　Hearthrall　singing　now；　though　he　heard　nothing　but　the　deep；　ravenous　howl　of　the　blaze。　Tuning　his　power　to　the　pitch　of　Tohrm's　song；　he　sent　all　his　resources　running　through　it。
　　　　The　savage　flames　backed　slightly　away　from　them　as　they　moved；　and　patches　of　unburned　rock　appeared　like　stepping…stones　under　Tohrm's　feet。　They　walked　downward　like　a　gap　in　the　hell　of　Trell's　rage。
　　　　But　the　conflagration　sealed　behind　them　instantly。　As　they　drew　farther　from　the　doors；　Amatin's　defense　weakened；　distance　and　flame　interfered。　Mhoram's　flesh　stung　where　his　robe　smoldered　against　it；　and　his　eyes　hurt　so　badly　that　he　could　no　longer　see。　Tohrm's　song　became　more　and　more　like　a　scream　as　they　descended。　By　the　time　they　reached　the　level　of　the　pit；　where　Loric's　krill　still　stood　embedded　in　its　stone；　Mhoram　knew　that　if　he　did　not　take　his　strength　away　from　Tohrm　and　use　it　for　protection　they　would　both　roast　at　Trell's　feet。
　　　　〃Trell！〃　Tohrm　screamed　soundlessly。　〃You　are　a　Gravelingas　of　the　rhadhamaerl！　Do　not　do　this！〃
　　　　For　an　instant；　the　fury　of　the　inferno　paused。　Trell　looked　at　them；　seemed　to　see　them；　recognize　them。
　　　　〃Trell！〃
　　　　But　he　had　fallen　too　far　under　the　power　of　his　own　holocaust。　He　pointed　a　rigid；　accusing　finger；　then　stooped　to　the　graveling　and　heaved　a　double　armful　of　fire　at　them。
　　　　At　the　same　moment；　a　thrill　of　strength　ran　through　Mhoram。　Amatin's　protection　steadied；　stiffened。　Though　the　force　of　Trell's　attack　knocked　Tohrm　back　into　Mhoram's　arms；　the　fire　did　not　touch　them。　And　Amatin's　sudden　discovery　of　power　called　up　an　answer　in　the　High　Lord。　With　a　look　like　joy　gleaming　in　his　eyes；　he　swept　aside　all　his　self…restraints　and　turned　to　his　secret　understanding　of　desecration。　That　secret　contained　might…might　which　the　Lords　had　failed　to　discover　because　of　their　Oath　of　Peace…might　which　could　be　used　to　preserve　as　well　as　destroy。　Despair　was　not　the　only　unlocking　emotion。　Mhoram　freed　his　own　passion　and　stood　against　the　devastation　of　the　Close。
　　　　Power　coursed　vividly　in　his　chest　and　arms　and　staff。　Power　made　even　his　flesh　and　blood　seem　like　invulnerable　bone。　Power　shone　out　from　him　to　oppose　Trell's　ill。　And　the　surge　of　his　strength　restored　Tohrm。　The　Hearthrall　regained　his　feet；　summoned　his　lore；　with　all　of　his　and　Mhoram's　energy；　he　resisted　Trell。
　　　　Confronting　each　other；　standing　almost　face　to　face；　the　two　Gravelingases　wove　their　lore…secret　gestures；　sang　their　potent　rhadhamaerl　invocations。　While　the　fire　raged　as　if　Revelstone　were　about　to　crash　down　upon　them；　they　manded　the　blaze；　wrestled　will　against　will　for　mastery　of　it。
　　　　Tohrm　was　exalted　by　Mhoram's　support。　With　the　High　Lord's　power　resonating　in　every　word　and　note　and　gesture；　renewing　him；　fulfilling　his　love　for　the　stone；　he　bent　back　the　desecration。　After　a　last　convulsive　exertion；　Trell　fell　to　his　knees；　and　his　fire　began　to　fail。
　　　　It　ran　out　of　the　Close　like　the　recession　of　a　tide…slowly　at　first；　then　faster；　as　the　force　which　had　raised　it　broke。　The　heat　declined；　cool　fresh　air　poured　around　Mhoram　from　the　airways　of　the　Keep。　Sight　returned　to　his　scorched　eyes。　For　a　moment；　he　feared　that　he　would　lose　consciousness　in　relief。
　　　　Weeping　with　joy　and　grief；　he　went　to　help　Tohrm　lift　Trell　Atiaran…mate　from　the　graveling　pit。　Trell　gave　no　sign　that　he　felt　them；　knew　in　any　way　that　they　were　present。　He　looked　around　with　hollow　eyes；　muttering　brokenly；　〃Intact。　There　is　nothing　intact。　Nothing。〃　Then　he　covered　his　head　with　his　arms　and　huddled　into　himself　on　the　floor　at　Mhoram's　feet；　shaking　as　if　he　needed　to　sob　and　could　not。
　　　　Tohrm　met　Mhoram's　gaze。　For　a　long　moment；　they　looked　into　each　other's　faces；　measuring　what　they　had　done　together。　Tohrm's　features　had　the　burned　aspect　of　a　wilderland；　a　place　that　would　never　grin　again。　But　his　emotion　was　clear　and　clean　as　he　murmured　at　last；　〃We　will　grieve　for　him。　The　rhadhamaerl　will　griev