rj.thepathofdaggers-第105部分

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t　feel？　Rand　hoped　they　were　not　all　ing　down　with　his　new　sickness。
　　　　　　　Nalaam's　gateway　opened；　and　vanished　behind　him　and　his　prisoner。　Rand　let　himself　really　feel　saidin。　Life　and　corruption　mingled；　ice　to　make　winter's　heart　seem　warm；　and　fire　to　make　a　forge's　flames　cold；　death；　waiting　for　him　to　slip。　Wanting　him　to　slip。　It　did　not　feel　any　different。　Did　it？　He　scowled　at　where　Nalaam　had　disappeared。　Nalaam　and　the　woman。
　　　　　　　She　was　the　fourth　sul'dam　taken　this　afternoon。　That　made　twenty…three　sul'dam　prisoners　with　the　carts。　And　two　damane；　each　still　in　her　silvery　leash　and　collar；　carried　on　separate　carts；　in　those　collars；　they　could　not　walk　three　steps　before　being　more　violently　sick　than　Rand　did　seizing　the　Source。　He　was　not　sure　the　sisters　with　Mat　would　be　pleased　to　receive　them　after　all。　The　first　damane；　three　days　before；　he　had　not　thought　of　as　a　prisoner。　A　slender　woman　with　pale　yellow　hair　and　big　blue　eyes；　she　was　a　Seanchan　captive　to　be　freed。　He　thought。　But　when　he　forced　a　sul'dam　to　remove　the　woman's　collar；　her　a'dam；　she　screamed　for　the　sul'dam　to　help　her　and　immediately　began　lashing　out　with　the　Power。　She　had　even　offered　her　neck　for　the　sul'dam　to　replace　the　thing！　Nine　Defenders　and　a　Soldier　died　before　she　could　be　shielded。　Gedwyn　would　have　killed　her　on　the　spot　had　Rand　not　stopped　it。　The　Defenders；　nearly　as　unfortable　around　women　who　could　channel　as　others　were　around　men　who　could　…　the　Defenders　still　wanted　her　dead。　They　had　taken　casualties　in　the　fighting　these　past　days；　but　having　men　killed　by　a　prisoner　seemed　to　offend　them。
　　　　　　　There　had　been　more　casualties　than　Rand　had　expected。　Thirty…one　Defenders　dead；　and　forty…six　panions。　More　than　two　hundred　among　the　Legionmen　and　the　noble's　armsmen。　Seven　Soldiers　and　a　Dedicated；　men　Rand　had　never　met　before　they　answered　his　summons　to　Illian。　Too　many；　considering　that　all　except　the　gravest　injury　could　be　Healed；　if　a　man　could　only　hang　on　until　there　was　time。　But　he　was　driving　the　Seanchan　west。　Driving　them　hard。
　　　　　　　More　shouting　rose　somewhere　far　off　down　in　the　valley。　Fire　blossomed　a　good　three　miles　to　the　west；　and　lightning　struck；　toppling　trees。　Trees　and　stone　erupted　from　a　mountainside　farther　on；　strange　fountains　marching　along　the　slope。　The　roaring　booms　swallowed　shouts。　The　Seanchan　were　retreating。
　　　　　　　〃Get　down　there；〃　Rand　told　Flinn　and　Dashiva。　〃Both　of　you。　Find　Gedwyn　and　tell　him　I　said　push！　Push！〃
　　　　　　　Dashiva　grimaced　at　the　forest　below；　then　began　awkwardly　tugging　his　horse　along　the　ridge。　The　man　was　ungainly　with　horses；　riding　or　leading。　He　nearly　tripped　over　his　sword！
　　　　　　　Flinn　looked　up　at　Rand　worriedly。　〃You　mean　to　stay　here　alone；　my　Lord　Dragon？〃
　　　　　　　〃I'm　hardly　alone；〃　Rand　said　dryly；　glancing　at　Ailil　and　Anaiyella。　They　had　ridden　back　to　their　armsmen；　almost　two　hundred　lancers　waiting　just　short　of　where　the　ridge　began　to　slope　down　to　the　east。　At　their　head；　Denharad　frowned　through　the　face…bars　of　his　helmet。　He　had　mand　of　both　lots；　now；　and　if　his　concern　was　for　Ailil　and　Anaiyella；　his　fellows　still　made　a　show　fit　to　keep　away　most　attackers。　Besides；　Weiramon　had　the　northern　end　of　this　ridge　secured　so　a　fly　could　not　pass；　he　claimed；　and　Bashere　held　the　south。　Without　boasting；　Bashere　just　erected　a　wall　of　lances　without　talking　about　it。　And　the　Seanchan　were　retreating。　〃And　I'm　hardly　helpless；　anyway；　Flinn。〃
　　　　　　　Flinn　actually　looked　doubtful　and　scratched　his　fringe　of　white　hair　before　saluting　and　leading　his　horse　toward　where　Dashiva's　gateway　was　already　winking　out。　Limping　along；　Flinn　shook　his　head；　muttering　to　himself　fit　for　Dashiva。　Rand　wanted　to　snarl。　He　could　not　go　mad；　and　neither　could　they。
　　　　　　　Flinn's　gateway　vanished；　and　Rand　returned　to　his　study　of　the　treetops。　It　was　quiet　again。　Time　stretched　in　stillness。　This　notion　of　taking　the　outposts　in　the　mountains　had　been　a　bad　one；　he　was　willing　to　admit　that；　now。　In　this　terrain；　you　could　be　half　a　mile　from　an　army　without　knowing。　In　those　tangled　woods　down　there；　you　could　be　ten　feet　from　them　without　knowing！　He　needed　to　face　the　Seanchan　on　better　ground。　He　needed。。。
　　　　　　　Abruptly　he　was　fighting　saidin；　fighting　wild　surges　that　tried　to　ream　out　his　skull。　The　Void　was　vanishing；　melting　beneath　the　onslaught。　Frantic；　dazed；　he　released　the　Source　before　it　could　kill　him。　Nausea　twisted　his　middle。　Double　vision　showed　him　two　Crowns　of　Swords。　Lying　on　the　thick　mulch　of　dead　leaves　in　front　of　his　face！　He　was　on　the　ground！　He　could　not　seem　to　breathe　properly；　and　struggled　to　suck　in　air。　There　was　a　chip　broken　off　one　of　the　crown's　golden　laurel　leaves；　and　blood　stained　several　of　the　tiny　golden　swordpoints。　A　knot　of　hot　pain　in　his　side　told　him　those　never…healing　wounds　had　broken　open。　He　tried　to　push　himself　up；　and　cried　out。　In　stunned　amazement　he　stared　at　the　dark　fletchings　of　an　arrow　stuck　through　his　right　arm。　With　a　groan　he　collapsed。　Something　ran　down　his　face。　Something　dripped　in　front　of　his　eye。　Blood。
　　　　　　　Vaguely　he　became　aware　of　ululating　cries。　Horsemen　appeared　among　the　trees　to　the　north；　galloping　along　the　ridge；　some　with　lowered　lances；　some　working　short　bows　as　fast　as　they　could　nock　and　draw。　Horsemen　in　blue…and…yellow　armor　of　overlapping　plates；　and　helmets　like　huge　insects'　heads。　Seanchan；　several　hundred　of　them　it　seemed。　From　the　north。　So　much　for　Weiramon's　fly。
　　　　　　　Rand　struggled　to　reach　the　Source。　Too　late　to　worry　about　sicking　up；　or　falling　on　his　face。　Another　time；　he　might　have　laughed　at　that。　He　struggled。。。　It　was　like　fumbling　for　a　pin　in　the　dark　with　numbed　fingers。
　　　　　　　Time　to　die；　Lews　Therin　whispered。　Rand　had　always　known　Lews　Therin　would　be　there　at　the　end。
　　　　　　　Not　fifty　paces　from　Rand；　screaming　Tairens　and　Cairhien　plowed　into　the　Seanchan。
　　　　　　　〃Fight；　you　dogs！〃　Anaiyella　shrieked；　swinging　down　from　her　saddle　beside　him。　〃Fight！〃　The　willow　lady　in　her　silks　and　laces　hurled　a　string　of　curses　that　would　have　made　a　wagon　driver's　tongue　go　dry。
　　　　　　　Anaiyella　stood　holding　her　mount's　reins；　glaring　from　the　mill　of　men　and　steel　to　Rand。　It　was　Ailil　who　turned　him　onto　his　back。　Kneeling　there；　she　looked　down　at　him　with　an　unreadable　expression　in　her　big　dark　eyes。　He　could　not　seem　to　move。　He　felt　drained。　He　was　not　sure　he　could　blink。　Screams　and　the　clash　of　steel　rang　in　his　ears。
　　　　　　　〃If　he　dies　on　our　hands；　Bashere　will　hang　both　of　us！〃　Anaiyella　certainly　was　not　simpering　now。　〃If　those　black…coated　monsters　get　hold　of　us。。。！〃　She　shuddered；　and　bent　closer　to　Ailil；　gesturing　with　a　belt　knife　he　had　not　noticed　in　her　hand　before。　A　ruby　sparkled　blood…red　on　the　hilt。　〃Your　Lance…captain　could　break　off　enough　men　to　get　us　away。　We　could　be　miles　away　before　he's　found；　and　back　to　our　estates　by　the　time　…　〃
　　　　　　　〃I　think　he　can　hear　us；〃　Ailil　broke　in　calmly。　Her　red…gloved　hands　moved　at　her　waist。　Sheathing　a　belt　knife？　Or　drawing　one？　〃If　he　dies　here　…　〃　She　cut　off　as　sharply　as　the　other　woman　had；　and　her　head　jerked　around。
　　　　　　　Hooves　thundered　past　Rand　on　either　side　in　thick　streams。　Galloping　north；　toward　the　Seanchan。　Sword　in　hand；　Bashere　barely　reined　in　before　leaping　from　his　saddle。　Gregorin　Panar　dismounted　more　slowly；　but　he　waved　his　sword　at　the　men　flooding　by。　〃Strike　home　for　King　and　Illian！〃　he　shouted。　〃Strike　home！　The　Lord　of　the　Morning！　The　Lord　of　the　Morning！〃　The　crash　of　steel　rose　higher。　And　the　screaming。
　　　　　　　〃It　would　be　like　this　at　the　last　of　it；〃　Bashere　growled；　favoring　the　two　women　with　suspicious　glares。　He　wasted　only　an　instant；　though；　before　raising　his　voice　above　the　din　of　battle。　〃Morr！　Burn　your　Asha'man　hide！　Here；　now！〃　He　did　not　shout　that　the　Lord　Dragon　was　down；　thank　the　Light。
　　　　　　　With　an　effort；　Rand　turned　his　head　perhaps　a　hand。　Enough　to　see　Illianers　and　Saldaeans　driving　on　north。　The　Seanchan　must　have　given　way。
　　　　　　　〃Morr！〃　The　name　roared　through　Bashere's　mustaches；　and　Morr　himself　dropped　from　a　galloping　horse　nearly　on　top　of　Anaiyella。　She　looked　disgruntled　at　the　lack　of　an　apology　as　the　man　knelt　beside　Rand；　scrubbing　dark　hair　out　of　his　face。　She　moved　back　quickly　enough　when　she　realized　he　intended　to　channel；　though；　practically　bounding　away。　Ailil　was　much　smoother　about　rising；　but　not　noticeably　slower　in　stepping　clear。　And　she　slipped　a　silver…handled　belt　knife　back　into　its　sheath　at　her　waist。
　　　　　　　Healing　was　a　simple　matter；　if　not　exactly　fortable。　The　fletchings　were　broken　off　and　the　arrow　drawn　the　rest　of　the　way　through　with　a　sharp　jerk　that　brought　a　gasp　to　Rand's　lips；　but　that　was　just　to　clear　the　way。　Dirt　and　lightly　embedded　fragments　would　fall　way　as　flesh　knit　itself　up；　but　only　Flinn　and　a　few　others　could　use　the　Power　to　remove　what　was　driven　deep。　Resting　two　fingers　on　Rand's　chest；　Morr　caught　his　tongue　between　his　teeth　with　a　fixed　expression　and　wove　Healing。　That　was　how　he　always　did　it；　it　did　not　work　for　him；　otherwise。　It　was　not　the　plex　weaves　that　Flinn　used。　Few　could