rj.eyeoftheworld-第18节

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t　the　lit　windows　of　the　house；　or　in　the　doorway。　Bela　and　the　cart　first；　or　the　blankets　and　other　things。　It　was　the　light　that　decided　him。　The　barn　was　dark。　Anything　could　be　waiting　inside；　and　he　would　have　no　way　of　knowing　until　it　was　too　late。　At　least　he　would　be　able　to　see　what　was　inside　the　house。
　　　　　　　As　he　started　to　lower　himself　again；　he　stopped　suddenly。　There　was　no　sound。　Most　of　the　sheep　might　have　settled　down　already　and　gone　back　to　sleep；　though　it　was　not　likely；　but　a　few　were　always　awake　even　in　the　middle　of　the　night；　rustling　about；　bleating　now　and　again。　He　could　barely　make　out　the　shadowy　mounds　of　sheep　on　the　ground。　One　lay　almost　beneath　him。
　　　　　　　Trying　to　make　no　noise；　he　hoisted　himself　onto　the　wall　until　he　could　stretch　out　a　hand　to　the　dim　shape。　His　fingers　touched　curly　wool；　then　wetness；　the　sheep　did　not　move。　Breath　left　him　in　a　rush　as　he　pushed　back；　almost　dropping　the　sword　as　he　fell　to　the　ground　outside　the　pen。　They　kill　for　fun。　Shakily　he　scrubbed　the　wetness　from　his　hand　in　the　dirt。
　　　　　　　Fiercely　he　told　himself　that　nothing　had　changed。　The　Trollocs　had　done　their　butchery　and　gone。　Repeating　that　in　his　mind；　he　crawled　on　across　the　farmyard；　keeping　as　low　as　he　could；　but　trying　to　watch　every　direction；　too。　He　had　never　thought　he　would　envy　an　earthworm。
　　　　　　　At　the　front　of　the　house　he　lay　close　beside　the　wall；　beneath　the　broken　window；　and　listened。　The　dull　thudding　of　blood　in　his　ears　was　the　loudest　sound　he　heard。　Slowly　he　reared　up　and　peered　inside。
　　　　　　　The　stewpot　lay　upside　down　in　the　ashes　on　the　hearth。　Splintered；　broken　wood　littered　the　room；　not　a　single　piece　of　furniture　remained　whole。　Even　the　table　rested　at　an　angle；　two　legs　hacked　to　rough　stubs。　Every　drawer　had　been　pulled　out　and　smashed；　every　cupboard　and　cabinet　stood　open；　many　doors　hanging　by　one　hinge。　Their　contents　were　strewn　over　the　wreckage；　and　everything　was　dusted　with　white。　Flour　and　salt；　to　judge　from　the　slashed　sacks　tossed　down　by　the　fireplace。　Four　twisted　bodies　made　a　tangle　in　the　remnants　of　the　furnishings。　Trollocs。
　　　　　　　Rand　recognized　one　by　its　ram's　horns。　The　others　were　much　the　same；　even　in　their　differences；　a　repulsive　mйlange　of　human　faces　distorted　by　muzzles；　horns；　feathers；　and　fur。　Their　hands；　almost　human；　only　made　it　worse。　Two　wore　boots；　the　others　had　hooves。　He　watched　without　blinking　until　his　eyes　burned。　None　of　the　Trollocs　moved。　They　had　to　be　dead。　And　Tam　was　waiting。
　　　　　　　He　ran　in　through　the　front　door　and　stopped；　gagging　at　the　stench。　A　stable　that　had　not　been　mucked　out　in　months　was　the　only　thing　he　could　think　of　that　might　e　close　to　matching　it。　Vile　smears　defiled　the　walls。　Trying　to　breathe　through　his　mouth；　he　hurriedly　began　poking　through　the　mess　on　the　floor。　There　had　been　a　waterbag　in　one　of　the　cupboards。
　　　　　　　A　scraping　sound　behind　him　sent　a　chill　to　his　marrow；　and　he　spun；　almost　falling　over　the　remains　of　the　table。　He　caught　himself；　and　moaned　behind　teeth　that　would　have　chattered　had　he　not　had　them　clenched　until　his　jaw　ached。
　　　　　　　One　of　the　Trollocs　was　getting　to　its　feet。　A　wolf's　muzzle　jutted　out　below　sunken　eyes。　Flat；　emotionless　eyes；　and　all　too　human。　Hairy；　pointed　ears　twitched　incessantly。　It　stepped　over　one　of　its　dead　panions　on　sharp　goat　hooves。　The　same　black　mail　the　others　wore　rasped　against　leather　trousers；　and　one　of　the　huge；　scythe…curved　swords　swung　at　its　side。
　　　　　　　It　muttered　something；　guttural　and　sharp；　then　said；　〃Others　go　away。　Narg　stay。　Narg　smart。〃　The　words　were　distorted　and　hard　to　understand；　ing　from　a　mouth　never　meant　for　human　speech。　Its　tone　was　meant　to　be　soothing；　he　thought；　but　he　could　not　take　his　eyes　off　the　stained　teeth；　long　and　sharp；　that　flashed　every　time　the　creature　spoke。　〃Narg　know　some　e　back　sometime。　Narg　wait。　You　no　need　sword。　Put　sword　down。〃
　　　　　　　Until　the　Trolloc　spoke　Rand　had　not　realized　that　he　held　Tam's　sword　wavering　before　him　in　both　hands；　its　point　aimed　at　the　huge　creature。　It　towered　head　and　shoulders　above　him；　with　a　chest　and　arms　to　dwarf　Master　Luhhan。
　　　　　　　〃Narg　no　hurt。〃　It　took　a　step　closer；　gesturing。　〃You　put　sword　down。〃　The　dark　hair　on　the　backs　of　its　hands　was　thick；　like　fur。
　　　　　　　〃Stay　back；〃　Rand　said；　wishing　his　voice　were　steadier。　〃Why　did　you　do　this？　Why？〃
　　　　　　　〃Vlja　daeg　roghda！〃　The　snarl　quickly　became　a　toothy　smile。　〃Put　sword　down。　Narg　no　hurt。　Myrddraal　want　talk　you。〃　A　flash　of　emotion　crossed　the　distorted　face。　Fear。　〃Others　e　back；　you　talk　Myrddraal。〃　It　took　another　step；　one　big　hand　ing　to　rest　on　its　own　sword　hilt。　〃You　put　sword　down。〃
　　　　　　　Rand　wet　his　lips。　Myrddraal！　The　worst　of　the　stories　was　walking　tonight。　If　a　Fade　was　ing；　it　made　a　Trolloc　pale　by　parison。　He　had　to　get　away。　But　if　the　Trolloc　drew　that　massive　blade　he　would　not　have　a　chance。　He　forced　his　lips　into　a　shaky　smile。　〃All　right。〃　Grip　tightening　on　the　sword；　he　let　both　hands　drop　to　his　sides。　〃I'll　talk。〃
　　　　　　　The　wolf…smile　became　a　snarl；　and　the　Trolloc　lunged　for　him。　Rand　had　not　thought　anything　that　big　could　move　so　fast。　Desperately　he　brought　his　sword　up。　The　monstrous　body　crashed　into　him；　slamming　him　against　the　wall。　Breath　left　his　lungs　in　one　gasp。　He　fought　for　air　as　they　fell　to　the　floor　together；　the　Trolloc　on　top。　Frantically　he　struggled　beneath　the　crushing　weight；　trying　to　avoid　thick　hands　groping　for　him；　and　snapping　jaws。
　　　　　　　Abruptly　the　Trolloc　spasmed　and　was　still。　Battered　and　bruised；　half　suffocated　by　the　bulk　on　top　of　him；　for　a　moment　Rand　could　only　lie　there　in　disbelief。　Quickly　he　came　to　his　senses；　though；　enough　to　writhe　out　from　under　the　body；　at　least。　And　body　it　was。　The　bloodied　blade　of　Tam's　sword　stood　out　from　the　center　of　the　Trolloc's　back。　He　had　gotten　it　up　in　time　after　all。　Blood　covered　Rand's　hands；　as　well；　and　made　a　blackish　smear　across　the　front　of　his　shirt。　His　stomach　churned；　and　he　swallowed　hard　to　keep　from　being　sick。　He　shook　as　hard　as　he　had　in　the　worst　of　his　fear；　but　this　time　in　relief　at　still　being　alive。
　　　　　　　Others　e　back；　the　Trolloc　had　said。　The　other　Trollocs　would　be　returning　to　the　farmhouse。　And　a　Myrddraal；　a　Fade。　The　stories　said　Fades　were　twenty　feet　tall；　with　eyes　of　fire；　and　they　rode　shadows　like　horses。　When　a　Fade　turned　sideways；　it　disappeared；　and　no　wall　could　stop　them。　He　had　to　do　what　he　had　e　for；　and　get　away　quickly。
　　　　　　　Grunting　with　the　effort　he　heaved　the　Trolloc's　body　over　to　get　to　the　sword　…　and　almost　ran　when　open　eyes　stared　at　him。　It　took　him　a　minute　to　realize　they　were　staring　through　the　glaze　of　death。
　　　　　　　He　wiped　his　hands　on　a　tattered　rag　…　it　had　been　one　of　Tam's　shirts　only　that　morning　…　and　tugged　the　blade　free。　Cleaning　the　sword；　he　reluctantly　dropped　the　rag　on　the　floor。　There　was　no　time　for　neatness；　he　thought　with　a　laugh　that　he　had　to　clamp　his　teeth　shut　to　stop。　He　did　not　see　how　they　could　ever　clean　the　house　well　enough　for　it　to　be　lived　in　again。　The　horrible　stench　had　probably　already　soaked　right　into　the　timbers。　But　there　was　no　time　to　think　of　that。　No　time　for　neatness。　No　time　for　anything；　maybe。
　　　　　　　He　was　sure　he　was　forgetting　any　number　of　things　they　would　need；　but　Tam　was　waiting；　and　the　Trollocs　were　ing　back。　He　gathered　what　he　could　think　of　on　the　run。　Blankets　from　the　bedrooms　upstairs；　and　clean　cloths　to　bandage　Tam's　wound。　Their　cloaks　and　coats。　A　waterbag　that　he　carried　when　he　took　the　sheep　to　pasture。　A　clean　shirt。　He　did　not　know　when　he　would　have　time　to　change；　but　he　wanted　to　get　out　of　his　blood…smeared　shirt　at　the　first　opportunity。　The　small　bags　of　willowbark　and　their　other　medicines　were　part　of　a　dark；　muddy…looking　pile　he　could　not　bring　himself　to　touch。
　　　　　　　One　bucket　of　the　water　Tam　had　brought　in　still　stood　by　the　fireplace；　miraculously　unspilled　and　untouched。　He　filled　the　waterbag　from　it；　gave　his　hands　a　hasty　wash　in　the　rest；　and　made　one　more　quick　search　for　anything　he　might　have　forgotten。　He　found　his　bow　among　the　wreckage；　broken　cleanly　in　two　at　the　thickest　point。　He　shuddered　as　he　let　the　pieces　fall。　What　he　had　gathered　already　would　have　to　do；　he　decided。　Quickly　he　piled　everything　outside　the　door。
　　　　　　　The　last　thing　before　leaving　the　house；　he　dug　a　shuttered　lantern　from　the　mess　on　the　floor。　It　still　held　oil。　Lighting　it　from　one　of　the　candles；　he　closed　the　shutters…partly　against　the　wind；　but　mostly　to　keep　from　drawing　attention　…　and　hurried　outside　with　the　lantern　in　one　hand　and　the　sword　in　the　other。　He　was　not　sure　what　he　would　find　in　the　barn。　The　sheep　pen　kept　him　from　hoping　too　much。　But　he　needed　the　cart　to　get　Tam　to　Emond's　Field；　and　for　the　cart　he　needed　Bela。　Necessity　made　him　hope　a　little。
　　　　　　　The　barn　doors　stood　open；　one　creaking　on　its　hinges　as　it　shifted　in　the　wind。　The　interior　looked　as　it　always　had；　at　first。　Then　his　eyes　fell　on　empty　stalls；　the　stall　doors　ripped　from　their　hinges。　Bela　and　the　cow　were　gone。　Quickly　he　went　to　the　back　of　the　barn。　The　cart　lay　on