fs.thefirstbookofswords-第39部分
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。 But the urgency of bat was still pumping in his veins； and before it could dissipate back into fear he made himself start looking for the stairway where the thing would logically e up if it was ing。 He was going to have to finish it off。
They faced each other； Nestor at the top of a flight of halfruined； vine…grown stairs； the larva at the bottom。 A monkbird screamed somewhere； still mocking the noise that they had made。 With scarcely a pause； the larva started up； dragging one foot after it in its methodical limp； dripping spots of grayness from its cracked carapace。 It raised the twisted little knife that was its one remaining weapon。
Nestor； watching with great alertness； saw a tiny tip of something appear like a pointed tongue just inside the larva's small round mouth。 He ducked； swiftly and deeply； and heard the small hiss of the spat dart going past his head。 Then Nestor leaped forward to meet his enemy halfway on the stair。 He piled one swordstroke upon another； driving the thing backwards down the stairs again； and then into a stone corner where it collapsed at last。
Though it went down； Nestor kept on hacking at his foe。 When both of the larva's arms had been disabled； and one leg taken off pletely； he went for the torso； which at last burst like a gray boil。 Nestor had to fight down the urge to retch； the smell that arose was of swamp mud and putridity。
〃And no heart； by all the demons；〃 he muttered to himself。 〃No heart to stop in the damned thing anywhere。〃 Indeed； nothing that he could recognize as an internal organ of any kind was visible； only thicker and thinner grayness that varied in its consistency and hue。
Still； the broken arms of the thing kept trying to hit at Nestor's feet； or grab his legs。 The attached gray leg still wanted to get the body up。 Nestor； reciting all the demons' names he knew； swore that he was going to finish the horror off； and he went at it like a woodchopper； or rather a madman； abandoning skill。 Some of his strokes now were so ill…aimed that the sword rang off the flagstones of the paved yard。
Taking the head pletely off settled the thing at last。 With that； whatever spells had given the larva the semblance of life were undone。 The gray chitin of its outer surfaces immediately started to turn friable。 It crumbled at a poke； and the inner grayness that ran out of it thinned out now and spread like mud and water。
Which； as Nestor could now see； what all it was。
Some huge raindrops had already begun to fall。 These now multiplied in a white rush。 Parts of what had been the larva were already dissolving； washing away into the ground between the paving stones。
Nestor deliberately remained for a time standing in the rain； letting it cool him。 He raised his face to the leaking skies； wanting to be cleansed。 The downpour grew fiercer； yet still he remained； letting it wash the sword as well。 From his experience with Dragonslicer； he did not think that this blade was going to rust。
When Nestor felt tolerably clean again he went back into the temple。 Just inside the doorway he leaned against the wall； dripping rainwater from his hair and clothing； watching the continuing rain and listening to it。 The thing he had just destroyed with his sword was already no more than a heap of wet muck； rapidly losing all shape as it was washed back into the earth。
〃Draffut … god or not； Beastlord； healer； whatever you may or may； not be … I am sorry to have destroyed your pet。 No； that's doubly wrong。 It wasn't your pet； of course。 Your experiment in magic； or whatever。 And naturally I'm not really sorry； it was a hideous thing。 When something es sneaking up and attacks a man with a hook and a peeling knife； he really has no choice。 What's that？〃
What it had sounded like was human voices； a small burst of excited conversation。 Nestor waited in silence； listening； and presently the voices came again。 They were in the middle distance somewhere。 He couldn't make out words； but they sounded like the voices of panicked people who were trying to be quiet。
What now？
The sounds came again。 Nestor still could not make out any of the words。 Some language that he did not know。 Most likely that meant some of the savages of the swamp。
Muttering a brief prayer that he might have to do no more fighting； to gods whose existence he still partly doubted； Nestor took a good grip on his sword and went to see what he could see； through a ruined room and out into the slackening rain again。 He would move； then wait until he heard the voices and move again。
Climbing a tumbled corner of the temple； past a tilted deity with rain dripping from his nose； Nestor had a good view out to the northeast。 In that direction an arm of the swamp came in closer to the center of the island than in any other。 This inlet was visible from the high place where Nestor crouched； and he could see that a handful of dugout canoes had just arrived there。 The last of them was still being pulled up on the muddy shore。 There were about a dozen people； with straight black hair and nearly naked coppery skins； already landed or still disembarking。 It wasn't a war party。 Among them they were armed with no more than a couple of small bows and a few clubs … not that they were carrying much of anything else。 There were women and children among them； in fact making up a majority of the group。 Everything they had looked poor … the Emperor's children； these were； born losers if Nestor had ever seen any。
One of the women pointed back into the swamp； away from Nestor and the temple； and made some statement to the others in the language that Nestor did not know。 Then the whole small mob； now gathered on shore； turned inland and began hurrying through low bush toward the temple。 They were certainly not aware of Nestor yet； and he crouched a little lower； concealing himself until he could decide what he ought to do next。
Before he could make a plan； something that looked like a large； low…slung lizard came scrambling up out of the swamp behind the people。 Though it was mostly obscured by bushes； Nestor could tell it was moving with an awkward run in the same general direction as the humans … but it was riot pursuing them。 It passed them up and they ignored it。 A general migration of some kind？ A general flight。。？
Farther back to the northeast； in the depths of the swamp； another shape was approaching； with Nestor's view of it still dimmed by rain。 Presently he made it out to be another canoe； paddled by two more copperskinned men。 Two women crouched amidships； slashing at the water with their cupped hands as if determined to do everything possible to add speed。 The people on shore ceased their progress inland to turn and watch。
When the craft was just a little nearer； Nestor could see a horizontal gray shape ing after it。 For a moment he thought this new form was some kind of peculiar wave troubling the water of the swamp； bearing dead logs on its crest。 But then he realized that what he had first taken for a wave was really an almost solid rank of larvae like the one he had just destroyed； marching； swimming； clambering forward through the swamp。 Beyond this first jumbled rank there appeared a second； Nestor； looking to right and left； could not see the end of either。 Scores of the things at least were ing toward the island； and more probably hundreds。 He could hear them now； what sounded like a thousand whistling utterances that could not be called voices； he could hear the multitudinous splash of their advance； and the forest of their dead limbs； knocking together softly like tumbled logs in a flood。
Now more animals and birds； large and small together； came fleeing the swamp； as if before a line of beaters in a hunt。 The approaching terror came closer； and Nestor's view of it grew less blurred by rain。 Now he could see； all along the advancing lines of larvae； how arms ended in spears； in flails； in maces； clubs； and blades。 No two pair of raised arms appeared quite alike； but all of them were weapons。
A hundred meters to Nestor's right； he saw a mansized dragon climb from the muck onto a hummock and turn at bay before the advancing horde； snarling defiance。 In an instant the dragon was surrounded by half a dozen of the dead…wood figures。 It hurled one back； another and another； but more kept crowding in； their deadly arms rising and falling。 Somewhere farther in the distance； a great landwalker bellowed； and Nestor wondered briefly whether it too would choose to stand and fight； and what success it might have if it did。
The people who had already reached the island were waving their arms and calling now； trying to cheer on the last canoe。 Its paddlers appeared to Nestor to be gaining on the pursuing horror。 But then the bottom of their craft scraped on some large object； log or mud…hump； under water。 The next moment； despite all their frantic paddling； they were stuck fast。
Nestor could see now that both of the women in the canoe were carrying； or wearing； infants strapped to their bodies。 All four of the adults in the canoe were working frantically to free it； and they seemed on the point of success when the gray w
