srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第77节

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ering；　translucent　cocoon　of　power。　Within　the　power；　he　was　as　erect　as　an　icon。　He　held　his　scepter　rigidly　above　his　head；
　he　did　not　move；　he　made　no　sound。　But　when　the　sunlight　touched　him；　the　wind　leaped　suddenly　into　a　hard　blow　like　a　violent　exhalation　through　the　teeth　of　the　Desert。　And　it　increased　in　ragged　gusts　like　the　leading　edge　of　a　sirocco。
　Then　a　low　cry　from　one　of　the　warriors　pulled　Troy's　attention　away　from　Fleshharrower。　Turning　his　head；　he　looked　down　the　throat　of　the　mounting　gale。　。
　From　the　southeast；　where　the　Southron　Range　met　the　Gray　Desert；　a　tornado　came　rushing　toward　Doriendor　Corishev。　Its　undulating　shaft　plowed　straight　across　the　Wastes。
　It　conveyed　such　an　impression　of　might　that　several　moments　passed　before　Troy　realized　it　was　not　the　kind　of　whirlwind　he　understood。
　It　brought　no　rain　or　clouds　with　it；　it　was　as　dry　as　the　Desert。　And　it　carried　no　dust　or　sand；　it　was　as　clean　as　empty　air。　It　should　not　have　been　visible　at　all。　But　its　sheer　force　made　it　palpable　to　Troy's　sight。　He　could　feel　it　ing。　It　was　so　vivid　to　him　that　at　first　he　could　not　grasp　the　fact　that　the　tornado　was　not　moving　with　the　wind。
　The　gale　blew　straight　out　of　the　south；　tearing　dust　savagely　from　the　ground　as　it　came。　And　the　tornado　cut　diagonally　across　it；　ignored　the　wind　to　howl　straight　toward　Doriendor　Corishev。
　Troy　stared　at　it。　Dust　clogged　his　mouth；　but　he　did　not　know　this　until　he　tried　to　shout　something。　Then；　coughing　convulsively；　he　wrenched　himself　away　from　the　sight。　At　once；　the　sirocco　hit　him。　When　he　stopped　looking　at　the　tornado；　the　force　of　the　wind　sent　him　reeling。　Ruel　caught　him。　He　pivoted　around　the　Bloodguard；　and　threw　himself　toward　Lord　Mhoram。
　When　he　reached　Mhoram；　he　shouted；　〃What　is　it。
　〃Creator　preserve　us！〃　Mhoram　replied。　The　yowling　wind　whipped　his　voice　from　his　lips；　and　Troy　barely　heard　him。　〃It　is　a　vortex　of　trepidation。〃
　Troy　tried　to　thrust　his　words　past　the　wind　to　Mhoram's　ears。　〃What　will　it　do？〃
　Shouting　squarely　into　Troy's　face；　Mhoram　answered；　〃It　will　make　us　afraid！〃
　The　next　moment；　he　pulled　at　Troy's　arm；　and　pointed　upward；　toward　the　top　of　the　tornado。　There　a　score　of　dark　creatures　flew；　riding　the　upper　reaches　of　the　vortex。
　The　tornado　had　already　covered　more　than　half　the　distance　to　Doriendor　Corishev；　and　Troy　saw　the　creatures　vividly。　They　were　birds　as　large　as　kresh。　They　had　clenched　satanic　faces　like　bats；　wide　eaglewings；　and　massive　barbed　claws。　As　they　flew；　they　called　to　each　other；　showing　double　rows　of　hooked　teeth。　Their　wings　beat　with　lust。
　They　were　the　most　fearsome　creatures　Troy　had　ever　seen。　As　he　stared；　he　tried　to　rally　himself　against　them…judge　their　speed；　calculate　the　time　left　before　their　arrival；　plan　a　defense。　But　they　staggered　his　mind；　he　could　not　prehend　an　existence　which　permitted　them。
　He　struggled　to　move；　regain　his　balance　enough　to　tell　himself　that　he　was　already　tasting　the　vortex　of　trepidation。　But　he　was　paralyzed。　Voices　shouted　around　him。　He　had　a　vague　impression　that　Fleshharrower's　hordes　greeted　the　vortex　with　glee…or　were　they　afraid　of　it；　too？　He　could　not　tell。
　Then　Ruel　grabbed　his　arm；　snatched　him　away　from　the　wall；　shouted　into　his　ear；　〃Warmark；　e！　We　must　make　a　defense！〃
　Troy　could　not　remember　ever　having　heard　a　Bloodguard　shout　before。　But　even　now　Ruel's　voice　did　not　sound　like　panic。　Troy　felt　that　there　was　something　terrible　in　such　immunity。　He　tried　to　look　around　him；　but　the　wind　lashed　so　much　dust　across　the　ruins　that　all　details　were　lost。　Both　Lords　were　gone。　Warriors　ran　in　all　directions；　stumbling　against　the　wind。　Bloodguard　bobbed　in　and　out　of　view　like　ghouls。
　Ruel　shouted　at　him　again。　〃We　must　save　the　horses！　They　will　go　mad　with　fear！〃
　For　one　long　moment；　Troy　wished　High　Lord　Elena　were　with　him；　so　that　he　could　tell　her　this　was　not　his　fault。　Then；　abruptly；　he　realized　that　he　had
　made　another　mistake。　If　he　were　killed；　no　one　would　know　how　to　save　the　Warward。　His　final　plan　would　die　with　him；　and　every　man　and　woman　of　his　army　would　be　butchered　as　a　result。
　The　realization　seemed　to　push　him　over　an　edge。　He　plunged　to　his　knees。　The　sirocco　and　the　dust　were　strangling　him。
　Ruel　shouted；　〃Warmark！　Corruption　attacks！〃
　At　the　word　Corruption；　a　plete　lucidity　came　over　Troy。　Fear　filled　all　his　thoughts　with　crystalline　incisiveness。　At　once；　he　perceived　that　the　Bloodguard　was　trying　to　undo　him；　Ruel's　impenetrable　fidelity　was　a　deliberate　assault　upon　his　fitness　for　mand。
　The　understanding　made　him　reel；　but　he　reacted　lucidly；　adroitly。　He　took　one　last　look　around　him；　saw　one　or　two　figures　still　surging　back　and　forth　through　the　livid　anguish　of　the　dust。　Ruel　was　moving　to　capture　him。　Overhead；　the　dark　birds　dropped　toward　the　ruins。　Troy　picked　up　a　rock　and　climbed　to　his　feet。　When　Ruel　touched　him；　he　suddenly　gestured　away　behind　the　Bloodguard。　Ruel　turned　to　look。　Troy　hit　him　on　the　back　of　the　skull　with　the　rock。
　Then　the　Warmark　ran。　He　could　not　make　progress　against　the　wind；　so　he　worked　across　it。　The　walls　of　buildings　loomed　out　of　the　dust　at　him。　He　started　toward　a　door。
　Without　warning；　he　stumbled　into　First　Haft　Amorive。
　She　caught　at　him；　buffeted　him　with　cries　like　fear。　But　she；　too；　was　someone　faithful；　someone　who　threatened　him。　He　lunged　at　her　with　his　shoulder；　sent　her　sprawling。　Immediately；　he　dodged　into　the　maze　of　the　masterplace。
　He　fell　several　times　as　the　wind　sprang　at　him　through　unexpected　gaps　in　the　walls。　But　he　forced　himself　ahead。　The　clarity　of　his　terror　was　plete；　he　knew　what　he　had　to　do。
　After　a　swift；　chaotic　battle；　he　found　what　he　needed。　With　a　rush；　he　lurched　out　into　the　center　of　a　large；　open　space…the　remains　of　one　of　Doriendor
　Corishev's　meeting　halls。　In　this　unsheltered　expanse；　the　force　of　the　wind　belabored　him　venomously。　He　weled　it。　He　felt　a　paradoxical　glee　of　fear；　his　own　terror　delighted　him。　He　stood　like　an　exalted　fanatic　in　the　open　space；　and　looked　up　to　see　how　long　he　would　have　to　wait。
　When　he　glanced　behind　him；　his　heart　leaped。　One　of　the　birds　glided　effortlessly　toward　him；　as　if　it　were　in　total　mand　of　the　wind。　It　had　a　clear　approach　to　him。　The　ease　of　its　movement　thrilled　him；　and　he　poised　himself　to　jump　into　its　jaws。
　But　as　it　neared　him；　he　saw　that　it　carried　Ruel's　crumpled　body　in　its　mighty　talons。　He　could　see　Ruel's　flat；　dispassionate　features。　The　Bloodguard　looked　as　if　he　had　been　betrayed。
　A　convulsion　shook　Troy。　As　the　bird　swooped　toward　him；　he　remembered　who　he　was。　The　strength　of　terror　galvanized　his　muscles；　he　snatched　out　his　sword　and　struck。
　His　blow　split　the　bird's　skull。　Its　weight　bowled　him　over。　Green　blood　spewed　from　it　over　his　head　and　shoulders。　The　hot　blood　burned　him　like　a　corrosive；　and　it　smelled　so　thickly　of　attar　that　it　asphyxiated　him。　With　a　choked　cry；　he　clawed　at　his　forehead；　trying　to　tear　the　pain　away。　But　the　acid　fire　consumed　his　headband；　burned　through　his　skull　into　his　brain。　He　lost　consciousness。
　He　awoke　to　silence　and　the　darkness　of　night。
　After　a　long　lapse　of　time　like　an　interminable　scream；　he　raised　his　head。　The　wind　had　piled　dust　over　him；　and　his　movement　disturbed　it。　It　filled　his　throat　and　mouth　and　lungs。　But　he　bit　back　a　spasm　of　coughing；　and　listened　to　the　darkness。
　All　around　him；　Doriendor　Corishev　was　as　still　as　a　cairn。　The　wind　and　the　vortex　were　gone；　leaving　only　midnight　dust　and　death　to　mark　their　path。　Silence　lay　over　the　ruins　like　a　bane。
　Then　he　had　to　cough。　Gasping；　retching；　he　pushed　himself　to　his　knees。　He　sounded　explosively　loud　to　himself。　He　tried　to　control　the　violence　of　his　coughing；　but　he　was　helpless　until　the　spasm　passed。
　As　it　released　him；　he　realized　that　he　was　still　clutching　his　sword。　Instinctively；　he　tightened　his　grip　on　it。　He　cursed　his　night　blindness；　then　told　himself　that　the　darkness　was　his　only　hope。
　His　face　throbbed　painfully；　but　he　ignored　it。
　He　kept　himself　still　while　he　thought。
　This　long　after　the　vortex；　he　reasoned；　all　his　allies　were　either　dead　or　gone。　If　the　vortex　and　the　birds　had　not　killed　them；　they　had　been　swept　from　the　ruins　by　Fleshharrower's　army。　So　they　could　not　help　him。　He　did　not　know　how　much　of　that　army　had　stayed　behind　in　the　masterplace。
　And　he　could　not　see。　He　was　vulnerable　until　daylight。　Only　the　darkness　protected　him；　he　could　not　defend　himself。
　His　first　reaction　was　to　remain　where　he　was；　and　pray　that　he　was　not　discovered。　But　he　recognized　the　futility　of　that　plan。　At　best；　it　would　only　postpone　his　death。　When　dawn　came；　he　would　still　be　alone　against　an　unknown　number　of　enemies。　No；　his　one　chance　was　to　sneak　out　of　the　city　now　and　lose　himself　in　the　Wastes。　There　he　might　find　a　gully　or　hole　in　which　to　hide。
　That　escape　was　possible；　barely　possible；　because　he　had　one　advantage；　none　of　Fleshharrower's　creatures　except　the　ur…viles　could　move　through　the　ruins　at　night　as　well　as　he。　And　the　Raver　would　not　have　left　ur…viles　behind。　They　w