grrm.astormofswords-第53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！


ing　his　shoulders　raw；　despite　the　layers　of　cloth　and　quilt　between　the　steel　and　skin。　The　only　thing　he　could　do　was　cry；　and　when　he　cried　the　tears　froze　on　his　cheeks。
　Sobbing；　he　took　another　step。　The　crust　was　broken　where　he　set　his　feet；　otherwise　he　did　not　think　he　could　have　moved　at　all。　Off　to　the　left　and　right；　half…seen　through　the　silent　trees；　torches　turned　to　vague　orange　haloes　in　the　falling　snow。　When　he　turned　his　head　he　could　see　them；　slipping　silent　through　the　wood；　bobbing　up　and　down　and　back　and　forth。　The　Old　Bear's　ring　of　fire；　he　reminded　himself；　and　woe　to　him　who　leaves　it。　As　he　walked；　it　seemed　as　if　he　were　chasing　the　torches　ahead　of　him；　but　they　had　legs　as　well；　longer　and　stronger　than　his；　so　he　could　never　catch　them。
　Yesterday　he　begged　for　them　to　let　him　be　one　of　the　torchbearers；　even　if　it　meant　walking　outside　of　the　column　with　the　darkness　pressing　close。　He　wanted　the　fire；　dreamed　of　the　fire。　If　I　had　the　fire；　I　would　not　be　cold。　But　someone　reminded　him　that　he'd　had　a　torch　at　the　start；　but　he'd　dropped　it　in　the　snow　and　snuffed　the　fire　out。　Sam　didn't　remember　dropping　any　torch；　but　he　supposed　it　was　true。　He　was　too　weak　to　hold　his　arm　up　for　long。　Was　it　Edd　who　reminded　him　about　the　torch；　or　Grenn？　He　couldn't　remember　that　either。　Fat　and　weak　and　useless；　even　my　wits　are　freezing　now　He　took　another　step。
　He　had　wrapped　his　scarf　over　his　nose　and　mouth；　but　it　was　covered　with　snot　now；　and　so　stiff　he　feared　it　must　be　frozen　to　his　face。　Even　breathing　was　hard；　and　the　air　was　so　cold　it　hurt　to　swallow　it。　〃Mother　have　mercy；〃　he　muttered　in　a　hushed　husky　voice　beneath　the　frozen　mask。　〃Mother　have　mercy；　Mother　have　mercy；　Mother　have　mercy。〃　With　each　prayer　he　took　another　step；　dragging　his　legs　through　the　snow。　〃Mother　have　mercy；　Mother　have　mercy；　Mother　have　mercy。〃
　His　own　mother　was　a　thousand　leagues　south；　safe　with　his　sisters　and　his　little　brother　Dickon　in　the　keep　at　Horn　Hill。　She　can't　hear　me；　no　more　than　the　Mother　Above。　The　Mother　was　merciful；　all　the　septons　agreed；　but　the　Seven　had　no　power　beyond　the　Wall。　This　was　where　the　old　gods　ruled；　the　nameless　gods　of　the　trees　and　the　wolves　and　the　snows。　〃Mercy；〃　he　whispered　then；　to　whatever　might　be　listening；　old　gods　or　new；　or　demons　too；　〃oh；　mercy；　mercy　me；　mercy　me。〃
　Maslyn　screamed　for　mercy。　Why　had　he　suddenly　remembered　that？　It　was　nothing　he　wanted　to　remember。　The　man　had　stumbled　backward；　dropping　his　sword；　pleading；　yielding；　even　yanking　off　his　thick　black　glove　and　thrusting　it　up　before　him　as　if　it　were　a　gauntlet。　He　was　still　shrieking　for　quarter　as　the　wight　lifted　him　in　the　air　by　the　throat　and　near　ripped　the　head　off　him。　The　dead　have　no　mercy　left　in　them；　and　the　Others　。　。　。　no；　I　mustn't　think　of　that；　don't　think；　don't　remember；　just　walk；　just　walk；　just　walk。
　Sobbing；　he　took　another　step。
　A　root　beneath　the　crust　caught　his　toe；　and　Sam　tripped　and　fell　heavily　to　one　knee；　so　hard　he　bit　his　tongue。　He　could　taste　the　blood　in　his　mouth；　warmer　than　anything　he　had　tasted　since　the　Fist。　This　is　the　end；　he　thought。　Now　that　he　had　fallen　he　could　not　seem　to　find　the　strength　to　rise　again。　He　groped　for　a　tree　branch　and　clutched　it　tight；　trying　to　pull　himself　back　to　his　feet；　but　his　stiff　legs　would　not　support　him。　The　mail　was　too　heavy；　and　he　was　too　fat　besides；　and　too　weak；　and　too　tired。
　〃Back　on　your　feet；　Piggy；〃　someone　growled　as　he　went　past；　but　Sam　paid　him　no　mind。　I'll　just　lie　down　in　the　snow　and　close　my　eyes。　It　wouldn't　be　so　bad；　dying　here。　He　couldn't　possibly　be　any　colder；　and　after　a　little　while　he　wouldn't　be　able　to　feel　the　ache　in　his　lower　back　or　the　terrible　pain　in　his　shoulders；　no　more　than　he　could　feel　his　feet。　I　won't　be　the　first　to　die；　they　can't　say　I　was。　Hundreds　had　died　on　the　Fist；　they　had　died　all　around　him；　and　more　had　died　after；　he'd　seen　them。　Shivering；　Sam　released　his　grip　on　the　tree　and　eased　himself　down　in　the　snow。　It　was　cold　and　wet；　he　knew；　but　he　could　scarcely　feel　it　through　all　his　clothing。　He　stared　upward　at　the　pale　white　sky　as　snowflakes　drifted　down　upon　his　stomach　and　his　chest　and　his　eyelids。　The　snow　will　cover　me　like　a　thick　white　blanket。　It　will　be　warm　under　the　snow；　and　if　they　speak　of　me　they'll　have　to　say　I　died　a　man　of　the　Night's　Watch。　I　did。　I　did。　I　did　my　duty。　No　one　can　say　I　forswore　myself。　I'm　fat　and　I'm　weak　and　I'm　craven；　but　I　did　my　duty。
　The　ravens　had　been　his　responsibility。　That　was　why　they　had　brought　him　along。　He　hadn't　wanted　to　go；　he'd　told　them　so；　he'd　told　them　all　what　a　big　coward　he　was。　But　Maester　Aemon　was　very　old　and　blind　besides；　so　they　had　to　send　Sam　to　tend　to　the　ravens。　The　Lord　mander　had　given　him　his　orders　when　they　made　their　camp　on　the　Fist。　〃You're　no　fighter。　We　both　know　that；　boy。　If　it　happens　that　we're　attacked；　don't　go　trying　to　prove　otherwise；　you'll　just　get　in　the　way。　You're　to　send　a　message。　And　don't　e　running　to　ask　what　the　letter　should　say。　Write　it　out　yourself；　and　send　one　bird　to　Castle　Black　and　another　to　the　Shadow　Tower。〃　The　Old　Bear　pointed　a　gloved　finger　right　in　Sam's　face。　〃I　don't　care　if　you're　so　scared　you　foul　your　breeches；　and　I　don't　care　if　a　thousand　wildlings　are　ing　over　the　walls　howling　for　your　blood；　you　get　those　birds　off；　or　I　swear　I'll　hunt　you　through　all　seven　hells　and　make　you　damn　sorry　that　you　didn't。〃　And　Mormont's　own　raven　had　bobbed　its　head　up　and　down　and　croaked；　〃Sorry；　sorry；　sorry。〃
　Sam　was　sorry；　sorry　he　hadn't　been　braver；　or　stronger；　or　good　with　swords；　that　he　hadn't　been　a　better　son　to　his　father　and　a　better　brother　to　Dickon　and　the　girls。　He　was　sorry　to　die　too；　but　better　men　had　died　on　the　Fist；　good　men　and　true；　not　squeaking　fat　boys　like　him。　At　least　he　would　not　have　the　Old　Bear　hunting　him　through　hell；　though。　I　got　the　birds　off。　I　did　that　right；　at　least。　He　had　written　out　the　messages　ahead　of　time；　short　messages　and　simple；　telling　of　an　attack　on　the　Fist　of　the　First　Men；　and　then　he　had　tucked　them　away　safe　in　his　parchment　pouch；　hoping　he　would　never　need　to　send　them。
　When　the　horns　blew　Sam　had　been　sleeping。　He　thought　he　was　dreaming　them　at　first；　but　when　he　opened　his　eyes　snow　was　falling　on　the　camp　and　the　black　brothers　were　all　grabbing　bows　and　spears　and　running　toward　the　ringwall。　Chett　was　the　only　one　nearby；　Maester　Aemon's　old　steward　with　the　face　full　of　boils　and　the　big　wen　on　his　neck。　Sam　had　never　seen　so　much　fear　on　a　man's　face　as　he　saw　on　Chett's　when　that　third　blast　came　moaning　through　the　trees。　〃Help　me　get　the　birds　off；〃　he　pleaded；　but　the　other　steward　had　turned　and　run　off；　dagger　in　hand。　He　has　the　dogs　to　care　for；　Sam　remembered。　Probably　the　Lord　mander　had　given　him　some　orders　as　well。
　His　fingers　had　been　so　stiff　and　clumsy　in　the　gloves；　and　he　was　shaking　from　fear　and　cold；　but　he　found　the　parchment　pouch　and　dug　out　the　messages　he'd　written。　The　ravens　were　shrieking　furiously；　and　when　he　opened　the　Castle　Black　cage　one　of　them　flew　right　in　his　face。　Two　more　escaped　before　Sam　could　catch　one；　and　when　he　did　it　pecked　him　through　his　glove；　drawing　blood。　Yet　somehow　he　held　on　long　enough　to　attach　the　little　roll　of　parchment。　The　warhorn　had　fallen　silent　by　then；　but　the　Fist　rang　with　shouted　mands　and　the　clatter　of　steel。　〃Fly！〃　Sam　called　as　he　tossed　the　raven　into　the　air。
　The　birds　in　the　Shadow　Tower　cage　were　screaming　and　fluttering　about　so　madly　that　he　was　afraid　to　open　the　door；　but　he　made　himself　do　it　anyway。　This　time　he　caught　the　first　raven　that　tried　to　escape。　A　moment　later；　it　was　clawing　its　way　up　through　the　falling　snow；　bearing　word　of　the　attack。
　His　duty　done；　he　finished　dressing　with　clumsy；　frightened　fingers；　donning　his　cap　and　surcoat　and　hooded　cloak　and　buckling　on　his　swordbelt；　buckling　it　real　tight　so　it　wouldn't　fall　down。　Then　he　found　his　pack　and　stuffed　all　his　things　inside；　spare　smallclothes　and　dry　socks；　the　dragonglass　arrowheads　and　spearhead　Jon　had　given　him　and　the　old　horn　too；　his　parchments；　inks；　and　quills；　the　maps　he'd　been　drawing；　and　a　rock…hard　garlic　sausage　he'd　been　saving　since　the　Wall。　He　tied　it　all　up　and　shouldered　the　pack　onto　his　back。　The　Lord　mander　said　I　wasn't　to　rush　to　the　ringwall；　he　recalled；　but　he　said　I　shouldn't　e　running　to　him　either。　Sam　took　a　deep　breath　and　realized　that　he　did　not　know　what　to　do　next。
　He　remembered　turning　in　a　circle；　lost；　the　fear　growing　inside　him　as　it　always　did。　There　were　dogs　barking　and　horses　trumpeting；　but　the　snow　muffled　the　sounds　and　made　them　seem　far　away。　Sam　could　see　nothing　beyond　three　yards；　not　even　the　torches　burning　along　the　low　stone　wall　that　ringed　the　crown　of　the　hill。　Could　the　torches　have　gone　out？　That　was　too　scary　to　think　about。　The　horn　blew　thrice　long；　three　long　blasts　means　Others。　The　white　walkers　of　the　wood；　the　cold　shadows；　the　monsters　of　the　tales　that　made　him　squeak　and　tremble　as　a　boy；　riding　their　giant　ice…spiders；　hungry　for　blood　。　。　。
　Awkwardly　he　drew　his　sword；　an