fs.thefirstbookofswords-第40部分
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e canoe were working frantically to free it； and they seemed on the point of success when the gray wave overtook them； and the first handless arms reached out。 To the acpaniment of human screams the canoe tipped over； and its passengers vanished。
Those who had already gained the shore turned from the scene in renewed panic。 Crying to one another in a fear that needed no translation； they ran for the temple。
Nestor hesitated no longer over whether to show himself； but jumped up into their full view。 He was not going to be able to outrun the oning threat； particularly not on a small island； nor were the refugees from the boats。 In union lay their only possible chance of making a successful stand against it； and that possible of course only if Townsaver's latent powers could somehow be called into action； and if they were as great as Nestor had been led to expect。 The mental map that he had formed during his exploration of the temple showed him another key factor in his hope： a certain high room； open only on one side； that would perhaps be defensible by three or four determined fighters。
The people Nestor was calling to now； who paused in their frightened flight at the sight of his figure in their path with a sword； probably did not understand his language any more than he knew theirs。 But they were ready to follow shouts and gestures； to grasp at any straw of hope。 In obedience to Nestor's energetic waves； they came running to him now； and past him。 Then they let him get ahead and lead them； at a run over piled rubble and up tilted slabs and collapsing stairs； to reach the place he had in mind。
This was one of the highest； surviving rooms of what had once been a towering structure。 The only way to approach it now was up a long； rough slope of rubble。 When Nestor had led the whole group toiling up this ascent； and had them gathered in the high room； they came to a reluctant stop； looking about them in bewilderment。
He gestured with sword and empty hand。 〃I'm afraid this is it； my friends。 This is the best that we can do。〃
He could see the understanding growing in the adults' faces； and the renewed terror and despair that came with it。
Nestor turned away from those looks； facing downslope and to the north as he looked out of the room's open side。 Not a very large width to defend； hardly more than a wide doorway； but it was a little more space than any one man with any one sword could cover。 From this high place he could see now that which made his heart sink： the ranks of the larvae； that had e sweeping across the swamp from the north； extended to both east and west across and； beyond the entire width of the island； and farther； for some indeterminate but great distance out into the swamp。 There must certainly be thousands of them。
There was movement among the people behind Nestor； and he turned around。 Slowly the four or five males of fighting age among the group of refugees were taking their places on his right and left； their bows and clubs as ready as they were ever going to be。 Nestor looked at them； and they at him。 Fortunately there seemed to be no need to discuss strategy or tactics。
The wave of the enemy had some time ago reached the island； and was now sweeping across it。 The gray ones had swarmed into the temple； perhaps in extra numbers because of fleeing prey in sight； the ranks looked thicker than ever when they came into Nestor's view at the foot of the long slope of rubble。 They paused there； continuing to thicken with reinforcements behind the steady upward stare of a hundred faceless heads that gazed upslope as if already aware of determined resistance waiting at the top。 What sounded like a thousand larval voices were whistling； whining； mocking； making a drone as of discordant bagpipes that seemed to fill the world。
The ranks of the Gray Horde paused briefly to strengthen themselves at the foot of the long hill of rubble。 Then they began to mount。
The women behind Nestor； brought to bay now with their young； were arming themselves too。 He glanced back … and saw them picking up sharp fragments from the rubble； ready to throw and strike。 Something flashed across Nestor's mind about all the concern that warriors； himself included； had for their own ing deaths； all the wondering and worrying and fretting that they gave the subject whether they talked about it or not。 And these women； now； had never had a thought in their lives about image and honor and courage； and they were doing as well as any。。。
As for Nestor himself； the thousand voices of the larvae assured him that his time was now； that he was never going to have to worry about it again。 Just behind Nestor； a baby cried。
And at the same moment something thrummed faintly in Nestor's right hand。 The swordhilt。 His own imagination？ Wishful thinking？ No。。。
The gray wave was ing up on limping； ill…made legs； brandishing its dead forest of handless arms； aiming its mad variety of weapons； shrieking its song of terror。
Nestor opened his mouth and shouted something back at them； some warcry bursting from he knew not what almost…buried memory。 And now around him the bowmen loosed their first pitiful volley of arrows； that stuck in their targets without effect。 Other men murmured and swung their clubs。 Nestor realized that he was holding the sword two…handed now； and he could feel the power of it flowing into his arms； as natural as his own blood。 Now the blade moved up into guard position； in a movement so smooth that Nestor could not really tell if it had been acplished by his own volition or by the forces that drove the sword itself。 And now with the blade high he could see the threaded vapor ing out of the air around it； seeming to flow into the metal。
He had not a moment in which to marvel at any of these things； or to try to estimate his chances； for now a dart sang past his shoulder； and now the awkwardly clambering gray mass of the enemy was almost in reach。
He yelled at them again； something from the wars of years ago； he knew not what。 Townsaver； pronounced a secret voice within his mind； and he knew that it had named the sword for him。
Townsaver screamed exultantly； and drew the line of its blade through a gray rank as neatly as it had sliced the fruit。 It mowed the weapon…sprouting limbs like grass。
Chapter 14
〃This is it； Your Grace；〃 said the lieutenant in blue and white。 〃This is the place where the dragon…pack attacked us。〃
Duke Fraktin halted his riding…beast under a tree still dripping from the morning's rain； and with an easy motion dismounted from the saddle。 He made a great gesture with both arms to stretch the muscles in his back； stiffening somewhat after hours of riding。 He looked about him。
He did not ask his lieutenant if he were sure about the place； there was no need。 From where the Duke now stood； surrounded by a strong force of his mounted men； he could see and smell the carcass of a giant landwalker。 The dead beast lay forty meters or so away among some more trees； and now that the Duke looked carefully in that direction he could see a dead man lying close to the dead dragon； and a little farther on one of his own cavalry mounts stiffened with its four feet in the air。
The pestilential aftermath of war； thought the Duke； and stretched again； and started walking unhurriedly closer to the scene of carnage。 With a war ing； indeed at hand already； he decided it would be wise to reaccustom his senses as soon as possible to what they were going to be required to experience。
As he walked； with his right hand he loosened Coinspinner in its fine scabbard at his side。 〃And where；〃 he asked his lieutenant； 〃is the wagon you were chasing？ Did you not tell me that it tipped over in the chase； and then the dragons sprang out and attacked you before you could gather up the people who were in it？〃
〃That's how it was； Your Grace。〃 And the pair of survivors of that ill…fated patrol who were now acpanying the Duke began a low； urgent debate between themselves as to just where that cursed wagon had been and ought to be。 The Duke listened with impatient attention； meanwhile using his eyes for himself though without result。 According to the best magical advice he had been able to obtain； that wagon might well have had another of the swords hidden in it somewhere … possibly even two of them。
Before his subordinates argument was settled； the Duke's attention was drawn away from it by a rider who came cantering up with the report that another kind of wagon was arriving on the road that led from the southwest。 This； when it presently came into sight； proved to be a humble； battered vehicle； a limping farm…cart in fact； pulled by a pair of loadbeasts even more decrepit than itself。 The Duke at first was mystified as to why some of his advance guard should have doubled back to escort this apparition into his presence。
And then he saw who was riding in the middle of the one sagging seat； and he understood； or began to understand。
〃Gentle kinsman；〃 said the Lady Marat； as she held out her hand for the Duke's aid in dismounting。 His voice and gesture were as casual as if her humiliation did not con
