srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第84节

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　Now　moksha　Fleshharrower　hung　from　the　gibbet。　Black　fury　congested　his　face；　his　swollen　tongue　protruded　like　contempt　between　his　teeth；　and　his　eyes　stared　emptily。　A　rictus　of　hate　strained　and　stretched　all　his　muscles。　His　dying　frenzy　had　been　so
　extravagant　that　many　of　his　blood　vessels　had　ruptured；　staining　his　skin　with　dark　hemorrhages。
　As　Lord　Mhoram　gazed　upward　through　the　thickening　dusk；　he　felt　suddenly　tired　and　thirsty。　Several　moments　passed　before　he　noticed　that　Caerroil　Wildwood　was　nearby。　The　Forestal　stood　to　one　side　of　the　hill；　singing　quietly；　and　his　eyes　shone　with　a　red　and　silver　light。
　At　Mhoram's　side；　Warmark　Troy　stirred　as　if　he　were　awakening；　and　asked　dimly；　〃What　is　it？　What　do　you　see？〃
　Mhoram　had　to　swallow　several　times　before　he　could　find　his　voice。　〃It　is　Fleshharrower。　The　Forestal　has　slain　him。〃
　A　sharp　intensity　crossed　Troy's　face；　as　if　he　were　straining　to　see。　Then　he　smiled。　〃Thank　God。〃
　〃It　is　a　worthy　bargain；〃　Caerroil　Wildwood　sang。　〃I　know　that　I　cannot　slay　the　spirit　of　a　Raver。　But　it　is　a　great　satisfaction　to　kill　the　flesh。　He　is　garroted。〃　His　eyes　flared　redly　for　a　moment；　then　faded　toward　silver　again。　〃Therefore　do　not　think　that　I　have　rescinded　my　word。　Your　people　are　unharmed。　The　presence　of　so　many　faithless　mortals　disturbed　the　trees。　To　shorten　their　disfort；　I　have　sent　your　people　out　of　Garroting　Deep　to　the　north。　But　because　of　the　bargain；　and　the　price　yet　to　be　paid；　I　have　brought　you　hers。　Behold　the　retribution　of　the　Forest。〃
　Something　in　his　high　clear　voice　made　Mhoram　shudder。　But　he　remembered　himself　enough　to　ask；　〃What　has　bee　of　the　Raver's　Stone？〃
　〃It　was　a　great　evil；〃　the　Forestal　hummed　severely。　〃I　have　destroyed　it。〃
　Quietly；　Lord　Mhoram　nodded。　〃That　is　well。〃　Then　he　tried　to　focus　his　attention　on　the　matter　of　Caerroil　Wildwood's　price。　He　wanted　to　argue　that　Troy　should　not　be　held　to　the　bargain；　the　Warmark　had　not　understood　what　was　being　asked　of　him。　But　while　Mhoram　was　still　searching　for　words；　Terrel　distracted　him。　Silently；　the　Bloodguard　pointed　away　upriver。
　The　night　was　almost　plete；　only　open　starlight
　and　the　glow　of　Caerroil　Wildwood's　eyes　illumined　Gallows　Howe。　But　when　the　Lord　followed　Terrel's　indication；　he　saw　two　different　lights。　Far　in　the　distance；　Rivenrock's　fiery　holocaust　was　visible。　The　violence　there　seemed　to　be　approaching　its　climacteric。　The　fires　spouted　furiously；　and　dark　thunder　rolled　over　the　Deep　as　if　great　cliffs　were　cracking。　The　other　light　was　much　closer。　A　small；　grave；　white　gleam　shone　through　the　trees　between　Mhoram　and　the　river。　As　he　looked　at　it；　it　moved　out　of　sight　beyond　the　Howe。
　Someone　was　traveling　through　Garroting　Deep　along　the　Black　River。
　An　intuition　clutched　Lord　Mhoram；　and　at　once　he　found　he　was　afraid。　Glimpses　and　visions　which　he　had　forgotten　during　the　past　days；　returned　to　him。　Quickly；　he　turned　to　the　Forestal。　〃Who　es？　Have　you　made　other　bargains？〃
　〃If　I　have；〃　sang　the　Forestal；　〃they　are　no　concern　of　yours。　But　these　two　pass　on　sufferance。　They　have　not　spoken　to　me。　I　allow　them　because　the　light　they　bear　presents　no　peril　to　the　trees…and　because　they　hold　a　power　which　I　must　respect。　I　am　bound　by　the　Law　of　creation。〃
　〃Melenkurion！〃　Mhoram　breathed。　〃Creator　preserve　us！〃　Catching　hold　of　Troy's　arm；　he　started　up　the　bald　hill。　His　panions　hastened　after　him。　He　passed　the　gibbet；　gained　the　crest　of　the　Howe；　and　looked　down　beyond　it　at　the　river。
　Two　men　climbed　the　hill　toward　him　from　the　riverbank。　One　of　them　held　a　shining　stone　in　his　right　hand；　and　supported　his　rade　with　his　left　arm。　They　moved　painfully；　as　if　they　ascended　against　a　weight　of　barrenness。　When　they　were　near　the　hilltop；　in　full　view　of　all　Mhoram's　pany；　they　stopped。
　Slowly；　Bannor　held　up　the　orcrest　so　that　it　lighted　the　crest　of　the　Howe。　With　a　nod；　he　acknowledged　the　Lords。
　When　Thomas　Covenant　realized　that　all　the　people　on　the　hill　were　watching　him；　he　pushed　away　from　Bannor's　support；　stood　on　his　own。　The　exertion　cost　him　a　sharp　effort。　As　he　stood；　he　wavered　unsteadily。　In　the　orcrest　light；　his　forehead　gleamed　atrociously。　His　eyes　held　a　sightless　stare…a　stare　without　object；　and　yet　of　such　intensity　that　his　eyes　appeared　to　be　crossed；　as　if　he　were　so　conscious　of　his　own　duplicities　that　he　could　not　see　singly。　His　hands　clenched　each　other　against　his　chest。　But　then　a　fierce　blast　from　Rivenrock　struck　him；　and　he　almost　lost　his　balance。　He　was　forced　to　reach　his　halfhand　toward　Bannor。　The　movement　bared　his　left　fist。
　On　his　wedding　finger；　the　argent　ring　throbbed　hotly。
　
　
　PART　III
　The　Blood　of　the　Earth
　
　
　TWENTY…ONE：；　Lena's　Daughter
　
　
　TROY　had　called　Thomas　Covenant's　Unbelief　a　bluff。　But　Covenant　was　not　playing　a　mental　game。　He　was　a　leper。　He　was　fighting　for　his　life。
　Unbelief　was　his　only　defense　against　the　Land；　his　only　way　to　control　the　intensity；　the　potential　suicide；　of　his　response　to　the　Land。　He　felt　that　he　had　lost　every　other　form　of　self…protection。　And　without　self　protection　he　would　end　up　like　the　old　man　he　had　met　in　the　leprosarium…crippled　and　fetid　beyond　all　endurance。　Even　madness　would　be　preferable。　If　he　went　mad；　he　would　at　least　be　insulated　from　knowing　what　was　happening　to　him；　blind　and　deaf　and　numb　to　the　vulturine　disease　that　gnawed　his　flesh。
　Yet　as　he　rode　westward　away　from　Revelwood　with　High　Lord　Elena；　Amok；　and　the　two　Bloodguard；　in　quest　of　Kevin　Landwaster's　Seventh　Ward；　he　knew　that　he　was　changing。　By　fits　and　starts；　his　ground　shifted　under　him；　some　potent；　subtle　Earthpower　altered　his　personal　terrain。　Unstable　footing　shrugged　him　toward　a　precipice。　And　he　felt　helpless　to　do　anything　about　it。
　The　most　threatening　aspect　of　his　immediate　situation　was　Elena。　Her　nameless　inner　force；　her　ancestry；　and　her　strange　irrefusability　both　disturbed　and　attracted　him。　As　they　left　the　Valley　of　Two　Rivers；　he　was　already　cursing　himself　for　accepting　her　invitation。　And　yet　she　had　the　power　to　sway　him。　She　tangled　his　emotions；　and　pulled　unexpected　strands　of　assent　out　of　the　knot。
　This　was　not　like　his　other　acquiescences。　When　Lord　Mhoram　had　asked　him　to　go　with　the　Warward；　he　had　agreed　because　he　pletely　lacked　alternatives。　He　urgently　needed　to　keep　moving；　keep　searching　for　an　escape。　No　similar　reasoning　vindicated　him　when　the　High　Lord　had　asked　him　to　acpany　her。　He　felt　that　he　was　riding　away　from　the　crux　of　his　dilemma；　the　battle　against　Lord　Foul　…evading　it　like　a　coward。　But　in　the　moment　of　decision　he　had　not　even　considered　　refusing。　And　he　sensed　that　she　could　draw　him　farther。　Hopelessly；　without　one　jot　or　tittle　of　belief　to　his　name；　he　could　be　made　to　follow　her；　even　if　she　went　to　attack　the　Despiser　himself。　Her　beauty；　her　physical　presence；　her　treatment　of　him；　ate　away　portions　of　his　armor；　exposing　his　vulnerable　flesh。
　Traveling　through　the　crisp　autumn　of　Trothgard；　he　watched　her　alertly；　timorously。
　High　and　proud　on　the　back　of　Myrha；　her　Ranyhyn；　she　looked　like　a　crowned　vestal；　somehow　both　powerful　and　fragile…as　if　she　could　have　shattered　his　bones　with　a　glance；　and　yet　would　have　fallen　from　her　seat　at　the　touch　of　a　single　hurled　handful　of　mud。　She　daunted　him。
　When　Amok　appeared　beside　her　as　if　concretized　abruptly　out　of　blank　air；　she　turned　to　speak　with　him。　They　exchanged　greetings；　and　bantered　pleasantly　like　old　friends　while　Revelwood　fell　into　the　distance　behind　them。　Amok's　reticence　on　the　subject　of　his　Ward　did　not　prevent　him　from　gay　prolixity　in　other　matters。　Soon　he　was　singing　and　talking　happily　as　if　his　sole　function　were　to　entertain　the　High　Lord。
　As　Amok　whiled　away　the　morning；　Covenant　gazed　over　the　countryside　around　him。
　The　party　of　the　quest　rode　easily　up　out　of　the　lowlands　of　Trothgard。　They　traveled　a　few　points　south　of　westward；　roughly　paralleling　the　course　of　the　Rill　River　toward　the　Westron　Mountains。　The　western　edge　of　Trothgard；　still　sixty　or　sixty…five　leagues　away；　was　at　least　three　thousand　feet　higher　than　the　Valley　of　Two　Rivers；　and　the　whole　region　slowly　climbed　toward　the　mountains。　Already　the　High　Lord's　party　moved　into　the　gradual　uprise。　Covenant　could　feel　their　relaxed　ascent　as　they　rode　through
　woodlands　anademed　in　autumn；　ablaze　with　orange；　yellow；　gold；　red　leaf…flames；　and　over　lush　grassy　hillsides；　where　the　scars　of　Stricken　Stone's　ancient　wars　had　been　effaced　by　thick　heather　and　timothy　like　healthy　new　flesh　over　the　wounds；　green　with　healing。
　He　was　barely　able　to　sense　the　last　hints　of　Trothgard's　convalescence。　Under　the　mantling　growth　of　grass　and　trees；　all　the　injuries　of　Kevin's　last　war　had　not　been　undone。　From　time　to　time；　the　riders　passed　near　festering　barren　patches　which　still　refused　all　repair；　and　some　of　the　hills　seemed　to　lie　awkwardly；　like　broken　bones　imperfectly　set。　But　the　Lords　had　labored　to　good　effect。　The　air　of　Trothgard　was　tangy；　animate；　vital。　Very　few　of　the　trees　showed　that　their　roots　ran　down　into　once…desecrated　soil。　The　new　Coun