rj.eyeoftheworld-第20节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


into　the　trees　a　way；　then　stopped　to　catch　his　breath　and　let　his　heart　stop　pounding。　Still　panting；　he　turned　east；　toward　Emond's　Field。
　　　　　　　Traveling　through　the　trees　was　more　difficult　than　taking　Tam　down　the　road；　and　the　night　surely　did　not　help；　but　going　out　onto　the　road　itself　would　be　madness。　The　idea　was　to　reach　the　village　without　meeting　any　Trollocs；　without　even　seeing　any；　if　he　had　his　wish。　He　had　to　assume　the　Trollocs　were　still　hunting　them；　and　sooner　or　later　they　would　realize　the　two　had　set　off　for　the　village。　That　was　the　most　likely　place　to　go；　and　the　Quarry　Road　the　most　likely　route。　In　truth；　he　found　himself　closer　to　the　road　than　he　liked。　The　night　and　the　shadows　under　the　trees　seemed　awfully　bare　cover　in　which　to　hide　from　the　eyes　of　anyone　traveling　along　it。
　　　　　　　Moonlight　filtering　through　bare　branches　gave　only　enough　illumination　to　fool　his　eyes　into　thinking　they　saw　what　was　underfoot。　Roots　threatened　to　trip　him　at　every　step；　old　brambles　snagged　his　legs；　and　sudden　dips　or　rises　in　the　ground　had　him　half　falling　as　his　foot　met　nothing　but　air　where　he　expected　firm　earth；　or　stumbling　when　his　toe　struck　dirt　while　still　moving　forward。　Tam's　mutterings　broke　into　a　sharp　groan　whenever　one　of　the　shafts　bumped　too　quickly　over　root　or　rock。
　　　　　　　Uncertainty　made　him　peer　into　the　darkness　until　his　eyes　burned；　listen　as　he　had　never　listened　before。　Every　scrape　of　branch　against　branch；　every　rustle　of　pine　needles；　brought　him　to　a　halt；　ears　straining；　hardly　daring　to　breathe　for　fear　he　might　not　hear　some　warning　sound；　for　fear　he　might　hear　that　sound。　Only　when　he　was　sure　it　was　just　the　wind　would　he　go　on。
　　　　　　　Slowly　weariness　crept　into　his　arms　and　legs；　driven　home　by　a　night　wind　that　mocked　his　cloak　and　coat。　The　weight　of　the　litter；　so　little　at　the　start；　now　tried　to　pull　him　to　the　ground。　His　stumbles　were　no　longer　all　from　tripping。　The　almost　constant　struggle　not　to　fall　took　as　much　out　of　him　as　did　the　actual　work　of　pulling　the　litter。　He　had　been　up　before　dawn　to　begin　his　chores；　and　even　with　the　trip　to　Emond's　Field　he　had　done　almost　a　full　day's　work。　On　any　normal　night　he　would　be　resting　before　the　fireplace；　reading　one　of　Tam's　small　collection　of　books　before　going　to　bed。　The　sharp　chill　soaked　into　his　bones；　and　his　stomach　reminded　him　that　he　had　had　nothing　to　eat　since　Mistress　al'Vere's　honeycakes。
　　　　　　　He　muttered　to　himself；　angry　at　not　taking　some　food　at　the　farm。　A　few　minutes　more　could　not　have　made　any　difference。　A　few　minutes　to　find　some　bread　and　cheese。　The　Trollocs　would　not　have　e　back　in　just　a　few　minutes　more。　Or　just　the　bread。　Of　course；　Mistress　al'Vere　would　insist　on　putting　a　hot　meal　in　front　of　him　once　they　reached　the　inn。　A　steaming　plate　of　her　thick　lamb　stew；　probably。　And　some　of　that　bread　she　had　been　baking。　And　lots　of　hot　tea。
　　　　　　　〃They　came　over　the　Dragonwall　like　a　flood；〃　Tam　said　suddenly；　in　a　strong；　angry　voice；　〃and　washed　the　land　with　blood。　How　many　died　for　Laman's　sin？〃
　　　　　　　Rand　almost　fell　from　surprise。　Wearily　he　lowered　the　litter　to　the　ground　and　untangled　himself。　The　strip　of　blanket　left　a　burning　groove　in　his　shoulders。　Shrugging　to　work　the　knots　out；　he　knelt　beside　Tam。　Fumbling　for　the　waterbag；　he　peered　through　the　trees；　trying　vainly　in　the　dim　moonlight　to　see　up　and　down　the　road；　not　twenty　paces　away。　Nothing　moved　there　but　shadows。　Nothing　but　shadows。
　　　　　　　〃There　isn't　any　flood　of　Trollocs；　father。　Not　now；　anyway。　We'll　be　safe　in　Emond's　Field　soon。　Drink　a　little　water。〃
　　　　　　　Tam　brushed　aside　the　waterbag　with　an　arm　that　seemed　to　have　regained　all　of　its　strength。　He　seized　Rand's　collar；　pulling　him　close　enough　to　feel　the　heat　of　his　father's　fever　in　his　own　cheek。　〃They　called　them　savages；〃　Tam　said　urgently。　〃The　fools　said　they　could　be　swept　aside　like　rubbish。　How　many　battles　lost；　how　many　cities　burned；　before　they　faced　the　truth？　Before　the　nations　stood　together　against　them？〃　He　loosed　his　hold　on　Rand；　and　sadness　filled　his　voice。　〃The　field　at　Marath　carpeted　with　the　dead；　and　no　sound　but　the　cries　of　ravens　and　the　buzzing　of　files。　The　topless　towers　of　Cairhien　burning　in　the　night　like　torches。　All　the　way　to　the　Shining　Walls　they　burned　and　slew　before　they　were　turned　back。　All　the　way　to　…　〃
　　　　　　　Rand　clamped　a　hand　over　his　father's　mouth。　The　sound　came　again；　a　rhythmic　thudding；　directionless　in　the　trees；　fading　then　growing　stronger　again　as　the　wind　shifted。　Frowning；　he　turned　his　head　slowly；　trying　to　decide　from　where　it　came。　A　flicker　of　motion　caught　the　er　of　his　eye；　and　in　an　instant　he　was　crouched　over　Tam。　He　was　startled　to　feel　the　hilt　of　the　sword　clutched　tight　in　his　hand；　but　most　of　him　concentrated　on　the　Quarry　Road　as　if　the　road　were　the　only　real　thing　in　the　entire　world。
　　　　　　　Wavering　shadows　to　the　east　slowly　resolved　themselves　into　a　horse　and　rider　followed　up　the　road　by　tall；　bulky　shapes　trotting　to　keep　up　with；　the　animal。　The　pale　light　of　the　moon　glittered　from　spearheads　and　axe　blades。　Rand　never　even　considered　that　they　might　be　villagers　ing　to　help。　He　knew　what　they　were。　He　could　feel　it；　like　grit　scraping　his　bones；　even　before　they　drew　close　enough　for　moonlight　to　reveal　the　hooded　cloak　swathing　the　horseman；　a　cloak　that　hung　undisturbed　by　the　wind。　All　of　the　shapes　appeared　black　in　the　night；　and　the　horse's　hooves　made　the　same　sounds　that　any　other's　would；　but　Rand　knew　this　horse　from　any　other。
　　　　　　　Behind　the　dark　rider　came　nightmare　forms　with　horns　and　muzzles　and　beaks；　Trollocs　in　a　double　file；　all　in　step；　boots　and　hooves　striking　the　ground　at　the　same　instant　as　if　obeying　a　single　mind。　Rand　counted　twenty　as　they　ran　past。　He　wondered　what　kind　of　man　would　dare　turn　his　back　on　so　many　Trollocs。　Or　on　one；　for　that　matter。
　　　　　　　The　trotting　column　disappeared　westward；　thumping　footfalls　fading　into　the　darkness；　but　Rand　remained　where　he　was；　not　moving　a　muscle　except　to　breathe。　Something　told　him　to　be　certain；　absolutely　certain；　they　were　gone　before　he　moved。　At　long　last　he　drew　a　deep　breath　and　began　to　straighten。
　　　　　　　This　time　the　horse　made　no　sound　at　all。　In　eerie　silence　the　dark　rider　returned；　his　shadowy　mount　stopping　every　few　steps　as　it　walked　slowly　back　down　the　road。　The　wind　gusted　higher；　moaning　through　the　trees；　the　horseman's　cloak　lay　still　as　death。　Whenever　the　horse　halted；　that　hooded　head　swung　from　side　to　side　as　the　rider　peered　into　the　forest；　searching。　Exactly　opposite　Rand　the　horse　stopped　again；　the　shadowed　opening　of　the　hood　turning　toward　where　he　crouched　above　his　father。
　　　　　　　Rand's　hand　tightened　convulsively　on　the　sword　hilt。　He　felt　the　gaze；　just　as　he　had　that　morning；　and　shivered　again　from　the　hatred　even　if　he　could　not　see　it。　That　shrouded　man　hated　everyone　and　everything；　everything　that　lived。　Despite　the　cold　wind；　sweat　beaded　on　Rand's　face。
　　　　　　　Then　the　horse　was　moving　on；　a　few　soundless　steps　and　stop；　until　all　Rand　could　see　was　a　barely　distinguishable　blur　in　the　night　far　down　the　road。　It　could　have　been　anything；　but　he　had　not　taken　his　eyes　off　it　for　a　second。　If　he　lost　it；　he　was　afraid　the　next　time　he　saw　the　black…cloaked　rider　might　be　when　that　silent　horse　was　on　top　of　him。
　　　　　　　Abruptly　the　shadow　was　rushing　back；　passing　him　in　a　silent　gallop。　The　rider　looked　only　ahead　of　him　as　he　sped　westward　into　the　night；　toward　the　Mountains　of　Mist。　Toward　the　farm。
　　　　　　　Rand　sagged；　gulping　air　and　scrubbing　cold　sweat　off　his　face　with　his　sleeve。　He　did　not　care　any　more　about　why　the　Trollocs　had　e。　If　he　never　found　out　why；　that　would　be　fine；　just　as　long　as　it　was　all　ended。
　　　　　　　With　a　shake　he　gathered　himself；　hastily　checking　his　father。　Tam　was　still　murmuring；　but　so　softly　Rand　could　not　make　out　the　words。　He　tried　to　give　him　a　drink；　but　the　water　spilled　over　his　father's　chin。　Tam　coughed　and　choked　on　the　trickle　that　made　it　into　his　mouth；　then　began　muttering　again　as　if　there　had　not　been　any　interruption。
　　　　　　　Rand　splashed　a　little　more　water　on　the　cloth　on　Tam's　forehead；　pushed　the　waterbag　back　on　the　litter；　and　scrambled　between　the　shafts　again。
　　　　　　　He　started　out　as　if　he　had　had　a　good　night's　sleep；　but　the　new　strength　did　not　last　long。　Fear　masked　his　tiredness　in　the　beginning；　but　though　the　fear　remained；　the　mask　melted　away　quickly。　Soon　he　was　back　to　stumbling　forward；　trying　to　ignore　hunger　and　aching　muscles。　He　concentrated　on　putting　one　foot　in　front　of　the　other　without　tripping。　
　　　　　　　In　his　mind　he　pictured　Emond's　Field；　shutters　thrown　back　and　the　houses　lit　for　Winternight；　people　shouting　greetings　as　they　passed　back　and　forth　on　their　visits；　fiddles　filling　the　streets　with　〃Jaem's　Folly〃　and　〃Heron　on　the　Wing。〃　Haral　Luhhan　would　have　one　too　many　brandies　and　start　singing　〃The　Wind　in　the　Barley〃　in　a　voice　like　a　bullfrog　…　he　always　did　…　until　his　wife　managed　to　shush　him；　and　Cenn　Buie　would　decide　to　prove　he　could　still　dance　as　well　as　ever；　and　Mat　would　have　something　planned　tha