tw.togreenangeltower2-第105章

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the　shadow　that　has　been　all　our　consideration；　and　I　am　thinking…　Kikkasut！　To　be　saying　such　words！…that　the　monk　may　have　spoken　rightly。　There　may　be　nothing　left　for　our　doing　at　all。〃
　　　　　　　With　those　words　hanging　in　the　air；　he　turned　from　her　and　hastened　after　the　dwarrows。　As　though　his　sudden　despair　had　passed　to　her　like　a　fever；　she　felt　hopelessness　enwrap　her。

29
The　Hand　of　the　North

　　　　　　　The　winds　howled　around　Stormspike's　summit；　but　beneath　the　mountain　all　was　silent。　The　Lightless　Ones　had　fallen　into　a　deep　slumber。　The　corridors　of　Under…Nakkiga　were　nearly　empty。
　　　　　　　Utuk'ku's　gloved　fingers；　slender　and　brittle　as　cricket　legs；　flexed　upon　the　arm　of　her　throne。　She　settled　her　ancient　bones　against　the　rock　and　let　her　thoughts　move　through　the　Breathing　Harp；　following　its　twistings　and　turnings　until　Stormspike　fell　away　and　she　became　pure　mind　moving　through　the　black　between…spaces。
The　angry　Dark　One　was　gone　from　the　Harp。　He　had　moved　himself　to　the　place…if　it　could　be　called　a　place…where　he　could　act　in　concert　with　her　to　enact　the　final　step　of　their　centuried　scheme；　but　she　could　still　feel　the　weight　of　his　hatred　and　envy；　personified　in　the　net　of　storms　that　spread　across　the　land　above。
In　Nabban；　where　the　upstart　Imperators　had　once　ruled；　snow　piled　high　in　the　streets；　in　the　great　harbor　high　waves　flung　the　anchored　ships　against　each　other；　or　drove　them　into　the　shore　where　their　splintered　timbers　lay　like　the　bones　of　giants。　The　kilpa；　frenzied；　struck　at　everything　that　moved　across　the　water；　and　even　began　to　make　sluggish　forays　into　the　coastal　towns。　And　deep　within　the　heart　of　the　Sancellan　Aedonitis；　the　Clavean　Bell　hung　silent；　immobilized　by　ice　just　as　the　mortals'　Mother　Church　was　frozen　by　fear。
The　Wran；　although　its　interior　was　sheltered　from　the　worst　of　the　storm；　nevertheless　turned　chillingly　cold。　The　ghants；　undeterred　as　a　group；　though　countless　individuals　died　in　the　harsh　weather；　continued　to　boil　out　of　the　swamps　and　harry　the　coastal　villages。　Those　few　mortals　of　Kwanitupul　who　braved　the　icy　winds　to　walk　outside　went　only　in　groups；　armed　with　iron　weapons　and　wind…whipped　torches　against　the　ghants　who　now　seemed　to　be　crawling　in　every　shadowy　place。　Children　were　kept　inside；　and　doors　and　windows　were　shuttered　even　during　those　few　hours　when　the　storm　abated。
　　　　　　　Even　Aldheorte　Forest　slept　beneath　a　blanket　of　white；　but　if　its　ageless　trees　suffered　beneath　the　freezing　hand　of　the　North；　they　did　so　in　silence。　In　the　heart　of　the　woods　Jao　e…Tinukai'i　lay　empty；　misty　with　cold。
　　　　　　　All　the　mortal　lands　lay　trembling　beneath　Stormspike's　hand。　The　storms　kept　Rimmersgard　and　the　Frostmarch　an　icy　wasteland；　and　Hernystir　suffered　only　a　little　less。　Before　the　Hernystiri　could　truly　reclaim　the　homes　from　which　they　had　been　driven　by　Skali　of　Kaldskryke；　they　had　been　forced　back　into　the　caves　of　the　Grianspog。　The　spirit　of　the　people　the　Sithi　had　loved；　a　spirit　which　had　flamed　high　for　a　short　time；　sank　back　to　a　guttering　flicker。
The　storm　hung　low　over　Erkynland。　Black　winds　bent　and　broke　the　trees　and　piled　snow　high　on　the　houses；　thunder　growled　like　an　angry　beast　up　and　down　the　length　of　the　land。　The　storm's　malevolent　heart；　as　it　seemed；　full　of　whirling　sleet　and　jagged　lightning；　pulsed　above　Erchester　and　the　Hayholt。
Utuk'ku　noted　all　this　with　calm　satisfaction；　but　did　not　pause　to　savor　the　terror　and　hopelessness　of　the　hated　mortals。　She　had　something　to　do；　a　task　she　had　awaited　since　her　son　Drukhi's　pale；　cold　body　had　been　set　before　her。　Utuk'ku　was　old　and　subtle。　The　irony　that　it　was　her　own　great…great…grandchild　who　had　led　her　to　her　revenge　at　last；　that　he　was　also　a　scion　of　the　very　family　that　had　destroyed　her　happiness；　was　not　lost　on　her。　She　almost　smiled。
　　　　　　　Her　thoughts　raced　on；　out　along　the　whispery　threads　of　being　until　they　passed　into　the　farther　regions；　the　places　only　she　of　all　the　living　could　go。　When　she　felt　the　presence　of　the　thing　she　sought；　she　reached　out　for　it；　praying　to　forces　that　had　been　old　in　Venyha　Do'sae　that　it　would　give　her　what　she　needed　to　acplish　her　final；　long…awaited　goal。
A　flare　of　joy　passed　through　her。　The　power　was　there；　more　than　enough　for　her　purposes；　now　all　that　remained　was　to　master　it　and　make　it　hers。　The　hour　was　ap…　proaching；　and　Utuk'ku　had　no　need　to　be　patient　any　longer。

　　　　　　　〃My　eyes　are　not　good　at　the　best　of　times；〃　Strangyeard　plained。　〃And　with　this　sunless　day　and　the　blowing　snow；　I　cannot　see　anything！　Sangfugol；　tell　me　what　is　happening；　please！〃
　　　　　　　〃There's　nothing　to　see；　yet。〃　They　were　perched　on　the　side　of　one　of　Swertclif's　foothills；　looking　down　on　Erchester　and　the　Hayholt。　The　tree　beneath　which　the　pair　huddled　and　the　low　wall　of　stones　they　had　made　provided　scant　protection　against　the　wind。　Despite　his　hooded　cloak　and　the　two　blankets　he　had　wrapped　around　himself；　the　harper　was　shivering。　〃Our　army　is　before　the　walls　and　the　heralds　have　blown　the　trumpets。　Isgrimnur　or　someone　must　be　reading　the　Writ　of　Demand。　I　still　don't　see　any　of　the　king's　soldiers　。。。　no；　there　are　some　shapes　moving　on　the　battlements。　I　had　begun　to　wonder　if　anyone　was　inside　at　all。。。。〃
　　　　　　　〃Who？　Who　is　on　the　battlements？〃
〃Aedon's　mercy；　Strangeyeard；　I　can't　tell。　They　are　shapes；　that's　all。〃
　　　　　　　〃We　should　be　closer；〃　the　priest　said　fretfully。　〃This　hillside　is　too　distant　in　weather　like　this。〃
　　　　　　　The　harper　darted　a　glance　at　him。　〃You　must　be　mad。　I　am　a　musician；　you　are　a　librarian。　We　are　too　close　as　it　is…we　should　have　stayed　in　Nabban。　But　here　we　are；　and　here　we　will　stay。　Closer；　indeed！〃　He　blew　into　his　cupped　palms。
　　　　　　　A　faint　clamor　of　horns　drifted　over　the　wind。　〃What　is　it？〃　Strangyeard　asked。　〃What　is　happening？〃　
　　　　　　　'They　have　finished　the　Writ　and　I　suppose　they've　gotten　no　answer。　That　is　just　like　Josua；　to　give　Elias　a　chance　to　surrender　honorably　when　we　know　already　he　will　do　nothing　of　the　sort。〃
〃The　prince　is　。。。　determined　to　do　the　right　thing；〃　Strangyeard　replied。　〃Goodness；　I　hope　he　is　well。　It　makes　me　sick　to　think　of　him　and　Camaris　wandering　lost　in　those　caverns。〃
〃There　is　that　Nabbanman；〃　Sangfugol　said　excitedly。　〃He　does　look　rather　like　Josua…from　here；　anyway。〃　He　turned　suddenly　toward　the　priest。　〃Did　you　really　suggest　I　should　mimic　the　prince？〃
　　　　　　　〃You　look　much　like　him。〃
　　　　　　　Sangfugol　stared　at　him　with　disgust　and　bitter　amusement。　〃Mother　of　God；　Strangyeard；　do　me　no　favors。〃　He　huddled　deeper　into　his　blankets。　〃Imagine　me　riding　around　waving　a　sword。　Ransomer　save　us　all。〃
〃But　we　all　must　do　what　we　can。〃
　　　　　　　〃Yes…and　what　I　can　do　is　play　my　harp；　or　my　lute；　and　sing。　And　if　we　win；　I　will　most　assuredly　do　that。　And　if　we　don't…well；　1　may　do　that　anyway　if　I　live；　but　it　won't　be　here。　But　what　I　cannot　do　is　ride　and　fight　and　convince　people　that　I　am　Josua。〃
　　　　　　　They　were　silent　for　a　time；　listening　to　the　wind。　
　　　　　　　〃If　we　lose；　I　fear　there　will　be　nowhere　else　to　run　to；　Sangfugol。〃
　　　　　　　〃Perhaps。〃　The　harper　sat　unspeaking　a　while　longer；　then　said：　〃Finally！〃
〃What？　Is　something　happening？〃
　　　　　　　〃They　are　bringing　forward　the　battering　ram…save　me；　but　it　is　a　frightening　thing。　It　has　a　great　iron　head　on　it　that　looks　like　a　real　ram；　with　curling　horns　and　all。　But　it's　so　big！　Even　with　all　those　men；　it　is　a　miracle　they　can　push　it　along。〃　He　took　a　sharp　breath。　〃The　king's　men　are　firing　arrows　from　the　walls！　There；　someone　is　down。　More　than　one。　But　the　ram　is　still　going　forward。〃
〃May　God　keep　them　safe；〃　Strangyeard　said　quietly。　〃It　is　so　cold　up　here；　Sangfugol。〃
　　　　　　　〃How　can　anyone　shoot　an　arrow　in　this　wind；　let　alone　hit　anything？　Ah！　Someone　has　fallen　from　the　wall。　That's　one　of　theirs　gone；　in　any　case。〃　The　harper's　voice　rose　in　excitment。　〃It　is　hard　to　see　what　is　happening；　but　our　men　are　close　to　the　walls　now。　There；　someone　has　put　up　a　ladder。　There　are　soldiers　swarming　up　it。〃　A　moment　later　he　made　a　noise　of　surprise　and　horror。
　　　　　　　〃What　do　you　see？〃　Strangyeard　squinted　his　eye；　trying　to　see　through　the　swirling　snows。
〃Something　was　dropped　on　them。〃　The　harper　was　shaken。　〃A　big　stone；　I　think。　I　am　sure　they　are　all　dead。〃
　　　　　　　〃May　the　Ransomer　protect　us；〃　Strangyeard　said　miserably。　〃It　has　begun　in　earnest。　Now　we　can　only　wait　for　the　ending；　whatever　that　may　be。〃

　　　　　　　Isgrimnur　held　his　hands　close　to　his　face；　trying　to　shield　himself　from　the　wind…flung　snow。　He　was　having　great　difficulty　keeping　track　of　what　was　happening；　although　the　Hayholt's　walls　were　less　than　five　hundred　cubits　up　the　hillside　from　where　he　watched。　Hundreds　of　armored　men　floundered　in　the　drifts　before　the　wall；　busy　as　insects。　Hundreds　more；　even　dimmer　shapes　from　Isgrimnur's　vantage　point；　scurried　about　atop　the　Hayholt's　walls。　The　duke　cursed　quietly。　Everything　seemed　so　damnably　distant！
Freosel　climbed　onto　the　wooden　platform　the　engineers　had　built　between　the　bottom　of　the　hill　and　the　empty；　storm…raddled　husk　of　Erchester。　The　Falshireman　was　visibly　struggling　against　the　wind。　〃Ram's　almost　to　the　gates。　The　wind；　it'll　be　our　friend　today…hard　on　their　bowmen；　it　be。〃
〃But　we're　not　able　to　shoot　any　better；〃　the　duke　snarled。　〃They've　got　free　run　of　the　walls　and　they're　pushing　our　scaling　ladders　off　easy　as　you　〃please。〃　He　smacked　his　fist　into　his　gloved　hand。　〃The　sun's　been　up　for　hours　and　all　we've　done　is　wear　a　few　trenches　in　the　snow。〃
The　Falshireman　looked　at　him　quizzically。　〃Pardon；　Sir　Duke；　but　seems　you　think　we　should　knock　these　walls　down　'fore　sunset。〃
〃No；　no。　God　knows　the　Hayhoit　is　built　strong。　But　I　don't　know　how　much　time　we　have。〃　He　looked　up　into　the　murky　sky。　〃That　cursed　star　they　all　talk　about　is　right　overhead。　I　can　almost　feel　it　glaring。　The　prince　and　Camaris　are　gone。　Miriamele's　gone。〃　He　turned　his　gaze　to　the　Hayhoit；　peering　through　the　snow　flurries。　〃And　our　men　are　going　to　freeze　solid　if　we　keep　them　out　there　too　long。　I　wish　we　could　knock　the　walls　down　by　sunset…but　I　don't　hold　much　hope。〃

　　　　　　　Isorn　pointed　upward。　The　soldiers　gathered　around　him　looked　up。
　　　　　　　〃There。　On　the　walls。〃
　　　　　　　Beside　the　helmeted　heads　peering　through　the　crenellations　were　more　than　a　few　whose　heads　were　bare；　their　faces　were　ghostly；　and　their　white　hair　blew　in　the　strong　wind。
〃White　Foxes？〃　asked　Sludig。　He　made　the　sign　of　the　Tree。
〃Indeed。　And　inside　the　Hayhoit。　Cursed　things！〃　Isorn　lifted　his　black…painted　sword　and　waved　it　back　and　forth　in　challenge；　but　the　distant　figures　on　the　walls　did　not　seem　to　notice。　〃And　curse　Elias　for　whatever　foul　bargain　he　made。〃
　　　　　　　Sludig　was　staring。　〃I　have　not　seen　them　before；〃　he　cried　above　the　tumult。　〃Merciful　Aedon；　they　look　like　demons！〃
　　　　　　　〃They　are　demons。　And　now　the　Hayhoit　is　their　nest。〃
　　　　　　　〃But　they　are　doing　nothing　that　I　can　see。〃
〃Just　as　well；〃　Isorn　replied。　〃Perhaps　they　are　too　few。　But　they　are　fearsome　archers。　I　wonder　why　none　of　them　seem　to　have　bows。〃
　　　　　　　Sludig　shook　his　head；　mystified