ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第58部分

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exactly　what　this　first　installment　of　the　parias　meant。　Almost　contemptuously　he　blocked　an　outlaw's　slash　and　drove　the　man　staggering　back　with　a　counterblow。
　　It　was　all　beginning　here；　with　him　and　this　small　pany。　The　men　of　Jalona　would　be　ing　back　south　once　more；　again　and　again。　The　long　tide　of　centuries　was　turning；　and　it　was　going　to　sweep　all　the　way　through　Al…Rassan　to　the　southern　straits。
　　First；　though；　there　was　this　matter　of　bandits　in　a　defile。　They　ought　to　have　broken　by　now；　Nino　thought　again。　Grimly　he　hacked　and　chopped；　with　more　space　to　move　now；　and　even；　at　moments；　room　to　advance　a　few　paces。　They　were　brave　enough；　these　outlaws　from　the　south；　but　Jaddite　iron　and　Jaddite　courage　were　going　to　prevail。
　　Someone　fell　with　a　grunt　beside　him；　Nino　pivoted　and　thrust　his　sword　deep　into　the　guts　of　the　man　who　had　just　killed　one　of　his　soldiers。　The　bandit　shrieked；　his　eyes　bulged。　Nino　twisted　his　blade　deliberately　before　hauling　it　free。　The　fellow's　hands　clutched　at　his　oozing；　slippery　intestines；　trying　to　keep　them　from　spilling　out。
　　Nino　was　laughing　at　that；　as　it　happened；　when　the　fifty　new　riders　swept　into　the　defile。
　　They　were　Jaddites；　he　saw　that　much　in　the　first　astonished　glance。　Then　he　saw…and　tried　desperately　to　understand…that　their　mounts　were　small；　nondescript　horses　of　Al…Rassan。　Then　he　realized；　with　a　cold　pressing　of　blackness　against　his　heart；　that　they　had　e　not　to　aid　him　but　to　kill。
　　It　was　in　that　frozen　moment　of　revelation　that　Nino　recognized　the　first　of　these　riders　by　the　image　of　an　eagle　on　the　crown　of　his　old…fashioned　helmet。
　　He　knew　that　emblem。　Every　fighting　man　in　Esperana　knew　of　that　helmet　and　the　man　who　wore　it。　There　was　a　paralyzing　weight　of　disbelief　in　Nino's　mind。　He　experienced　an　appalling　sense　of　the　unfairness　of　things。　He　raised　his　sword　as　the　eagle…helmed　horseman　came　straight　towards　him。　Nino　feinted；　then　swung　savagely　for　the　man's　ribs。　His　blow　was　parried；　casually；　and　then；　before　he　could　right　himself；　Nino　saw　a　long；　bright；　final　blade　e　scything　and　he　left　the　world　of　living　men　and　fell　down　into　the　dark。
　　
　　Idar；　fighting　beside　his　father；　had　been　struggling　to　summon　the　courage　to　suggest　retreat。
　　It　had　never　happened　before　that　his　father　had　persisted　this　long　with　what　was　clearly　a　failed　assault。　They　had　established　their　name；　their　fortune；　their　castle　at　Arbastro；　by　knowing　when　to　engage　and　when…as　now；　surely！…to　withdraw　and　fight　another　time。
　　It　was　his　brother's　wound；　Idar　knew；　laboring　with　his　sword　in　the　trammeling　press。　Abir　was　dying　on　the　hard　ground　behind　them　and　their　father　was　out　of　his　head　with　grief。　One　of　their　men　was　beside　Abir　on　his　knees；　cradling　his　head；　two　others　stood　by；　to　defend　him　should　any　of　the　accursed　Jaddites　break　free　of　their　tight　circle。
　　Their　father　was　a　wild；　terrifying　figure　beside　Idar；　frenzied　in　his　attacks　on　the　ring　of　their　enemies；　oblivious　to　circumstance　and　need；　to　the　devastating　fact　that　more　than　half　their　number　were　dead。　There　were　barely　thirty　men　doing　battle　now　with　almost　as　many　of　the　dung…eating　Horsemen。　Their　weapons　and　armor　were　less　good；　their　style　of　bat　was　not　and　never　had　been　this　kind　of　savage　face…to…face　confrontation。
　　The　ambush　had　almost　succeeded　but　it　had　not　quite　been　enough。　It　was　time　to　break　free；　to　run　south；　to　accept　that　a　huge　risk　had　nearly　worked；　but　had　not。　They　had　a　desperately　long　way　to　go　to　get　home　to　Arbastro；　on　evil　winter　paths；　through　mud　and　rain；　and　with　the　wounded　to　slow　them。　It　was　past　time　to　pull　out　while　they　could；　while　yet　some　of　them　lived。
　　As　if　to　mark　the　truth　of　his　thought；　Idar　was　forced　in　that　moment　to　duck　swiftly　down　and　to　one　side　as　a　burly　Jaddite　with　a　studded　mace　stepped　forward　and　hammered　a　sideswung　blow　at　his　face。　The　Jaddite　was　armored　from　head　to　calves；　Idar　wore　a　leather　helm　and　a　light　chain　breastpiece。　What　were　they　doing　fighting　face　to　face？
　　Twisting　under　the　lethal　mace；　Idar　chopped　sharply　at　the　back　of　the　Jaddite's　ankle。　He　felt　his　sword　bite　through　the　boot　and　into　flesh。　The　man　screamed　and　fell　to　one　knee。　They　would　say　it　was　a　coward's　way　to　fight；　Idar　knew。　They　had　their　armor　and　their　iron。　The　men　of　Arbastro　had　decades　of　experience　in　the　tactics　of　cunning　and　entrapment。　When　it　came　to　killing　or　dying　there　were　no　rules；　his　father　had　drilled　that　into　them　from　the　beginning。
　　Idar　killed　the　fallen　giant　with　a　slicing　blow　to　the　neck；　where　the　helmet　did　not　quite　meet　his　body　armor。　He　thought　about　grabbing　the　mace；　but　decided　it　would　be　too　heavy　for　him；　especially　if　they　had　to　run。
　　And　they　did　have　to　run；　or　they　were　going　to　die　in　this　defile。　He　watched　his　father；　still　wild　with　rage；　pounding　his　blade　over　and　again　against　a　Jaddite　shield。　The　Jaddite　withdrew；　one　pace　and　then　another；　but　the　shield　arm　held；　steady　and　resilient。　Just　beyond　his　father　Idar　saw　the　Jaddite　captain；　the　yellow…haired　one；　dispatch　another　of　their　men。　They　were　going　to　die　here。
　　It　was　in　that　moment　that　the　second　wave　of　Jaddites　came　galloping　up　behind　them；　the　hooves　of　their　horses　like　sudden　thunder　in　the　defile。
　　Idar　wheeled　about；　aghast。　Too　late　now；　he　thought；　and　in　his　mind　he　saw　a　swift；　vivid　image　of　a　white…faced；　black…haired　maiden　ing　for　him；　her　long　fingernails　reaching　for　his　red　heart。　And　then；　a　pulsebeat　later；　Idar　realized　that　he　understood　nothing　at　all　of　what　was　happening　here　today。
　　The　leader　of　this　new　wave　of　Horsemen　came　sweeping　through　the　outlaw　line。　He　rode　straight　up　to　where　the　yellow…haired　man　wielded　his　heavy　sword。　Leaning　in　the　saddle；　he　blocked　a　thrust　and　then；　curbing　his　horse　tightly；　swept　his　own　long　blade　down　with　incisive　mastery　and　killed　the　other　Jaddite　where　he　stood。
　　Idar　became　aware　that　his　mouth　was　gaping　open。　He　closed　it。　He　looked　desperately　towards　the　red…smeared　figure　of　blood　and　grief　and　fury　that　was　his　father　and　he　saw　the　sharp…eyed　clarity　that　he　remembered…that　he　needed…suddenly　return。
　　〃We　have　been　used；〃　his　father　said　to　him　then；　quiet　amid　the　roiling　chaos　of　new　horses　and　dying　men　in　front　of　them。　He　had　lowered　his　sword。　〃I　am　in　my　dotage。　Too　old　to　be　allowed　to　lead　men。　I　ought　to　have　died　before　today。〃
　　And；　amazingly；　he　sheathed　his　blade　and　stepped　back；　seemingly　indifferent；　as　the　new　Jaddites　killed　the　first　ones　without　mercy　or　respite；　even　though　swords　were　being　thrown　down　in　the　circle　around　the　gold　and　men　were　crying　aloud　for　ransom。
　　No　one's　surrender　was　accepted。　Idar；　who　had　killed　many　men　in　his　time；　watched　in　silence　from　where　he　and　his　father　had　withdrawn　beside　his　dying　brother。
　　The　men　from　Jalona；　who　had　e　south　for　a　fortune　in　parias　gold；　who　had　ridden　foolishly　into　a　trap　and　then　survived　it　by　main　courage　and　discipline；　died　that　morning；　every　one　of　them；　in　that　dark　place。
　　Afterwards　it　was　quiet；　save　for　the　moaning　of　injured　outlaws。　Idar　realized　that　some　of　the　new　Jaddite　archers　were　shooting　the　wounded　horses；　which　is　why　those　sounds　had　stopped。　The　animals'　screaming　had　been　going　on　so　long　he　had　almost　blocked　it　out。　He　watched　as　the　undamaged　horses　were　rounded　up。　They　were　magnificent　stallions；　no　mounts　in　Al…Rassan　could　match　those　from　the　ranches　of　Esperana。
　　Idar　and　his　father　and　the　others　laid　aside　their　weapons；　as　ordered：　there　was　no　point　resisting。　They　numbered　barely　more　than　twenty；　all　exhausted　and　many　wounded；　with　nowhere　to　run；　facing　fifty　mounted　warriors。　On　the　ground　beside　them；　his　head　now　pillowed　on　a　saddle　cloth；　Abir　breathed　raggedly；　dealing　with　pain。　The　wound　in　his　thigh　was　too　deep；　Idar　saw；　it　was　still　bleeding　despite　the　knot　tied　above　it。　Idar　had　seen　that　kind　of　wound　before。　His　brother　was　going　to　die。　There　was　a　kind　of　blankness　in　Idar's　mind　because　of　that；　an　inability　to　think　properly。　He　remembered；　quite　suddenly；　the　vision　he　had　had　when　the　new　Horsemen　had　appeared：　death　as　a　woman；　her　nails　raking　for　his　life。
　　It　wasn't　his　life；　after　all。　He　knelt　and　touched　his　younger　brother's　cheek。　He　found　that　he　could　not　speak。　Abir　looked　up　at　him。　He　lifted　a　hand　so　their　fingers　touched。　There　was　fear　in　his　eyes　but　he　said　nothing　at　all。　Idar　swallowed　hard。　It　would　not　do　to　cry。　They　were　still　on　a　battlefield。　He　squeezed　Abir's　hand　and　stood　up。　He　walked　a　few　steps　back　to　stand　beside　their　father。　The　old　man's　blood…smeared　head　was　high；　his　shoulders　straight　as　he　looked　up　at　the　new　men　on　their　horses。
　　Tarif　ibn　Hassan　of　Arbastro；　captured　at　last　after　almost　forty　years。
　　The　outlaw　who　had　bee　more　a　king…and　who　had　always　been　more　a　lion…than　any　of　the　myriad　pretenders　to　royalty　since　Silvenes　fell。
　　The　numbness　in　Idar　extended　to　this　as　well。　Their　world　was　ending　in　this　defile。　A　new　legend　to　go　with　the　old　ones　about　the　haunted　Emin　ha'Nazar。　His　fath