bl.necroscope2-第12部分

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　The　huge　Wallach　shook　his　head。　〃Only　if　they　attack；〃　he　answered。
　〃You　think　the　Ferenczy　controls　them；　then？　But。。。　is　it　possible？〃
　〃It　seems　our　quarry　has　powers；〃　said　Thibor。　〃Look　at　the　gypsy's　face。〃
　Arvos'gaze　had　bee　fixed。　Thibor　had　seen　that　look　before；　when　the　old　man　used　the　frying…pan　mirror　down　in　the　village：　as　if　a　film　of　milk　had　been　painted　on　each　eyeball。
　Then　the　Gypsy　spoke：　〃Master？〃　Arvos'　mouth　scarce　moved。　His　words　were　the　merest　breath；　vying　with　the　mountain　breeze　at　first　but　rapidly　growing　louder。　〃Master？　But　Master；　I　have　always　been　your　faithful…〃　He　paused　suddenly；　as　if　cut　short；　and　his　filmed　eyes　bulged。　〃No；　master；　no。r　His　voice　was　now　a　shriek；　he　clawed　at　the　hands　and　brawny　arms　that　alone　sustained　him　against　gravity；　shifted　his　once　more　clear　gaze　to　the　ledge　and　the　wolves　where　they　gathered　themselves。
　Thibor　had　almost　felt　the　surge　of　power　emanating　from　the　distant　castle；　had　almost　tasted　the　rejection　which　had　surely　doomed　the　Szgany　to　his　death。　The　Ferenczy　was　finished　with　him；　so　why　delay　it？
　The　leading　pair　of　wolves；　massive　beasts；　crept　for…ward　in　unison；　muscles　bunching。
　〃Drop　him！〃　Thibor　rasped。　Utterly　pitiless；　he　urged；　〃Let　him　die…and　then　fight　for　your　own　life！　The　ledge　is　narrow…side　by　side　we've　a　chance。〃
　His　panion　tried　to　shake　the　old　man　loose　but　couldn't。　The　gypsy　clung　like　thorns　to　his　arms；　fought　desperately　to　swing　his　legs　back　onto　the　ledge。　But　already　it　was　too　late　for　both　men。　Heedless　of　their　own　lives；　the　pair　of　great　grey　wolves　sprang　as　one　creature；　as　if　triggered。　Not　at　Thibor…not　even　looking　at　him…but　directly　at　his　squat　rade　where　he　tried　to　break　Arvos'　grip。　They　struck　together；　dead　weight　against　a　lurching　double…silhouette；　and　bore　the　apish　Wallach；　Arvos；　and　themselves　out　over　the　rim　and　down　into　darkness。
　It　was　beyond　Thibor。　He　gave　it　only　a　moment's　thought。　The　pack　leaders　had　sacrificed　themselves　in　answer　to　a　call　he　had　not　heard…or　had　he？　But　in　any　case；　they'd　died　willingly　for　a　cause　he　could　not　possibly　prehend。　He　still　lived；　however；　and　he　wouldn't　sell　his　life　cheaply。
　〃All　of　you；　then！〃　he　howled　at　the　pack；　almost　in　its　own　tongue。　〃e　on；　who'll　be　first　to　taste　my　steel？〃　And　for　long　moments　not　a　beast　of　them　moved。
　Then…Then　they　did　move；　but　not　forward。　Instead　they　turned；　slunk　away；　paused　and　looked　back　over　lean　shoulders。
　〃Cowards！〃　Thibor　raged。　He　took　a　pace　towards　them；　they　slunk　further　away；　looked　back。　And　the　Wallach's　jaw　dropped。　He　knew…suddenly　knew…that　they　weren't　here　to　harm　him；　only　to　ensure　that　he　came　on　alone！
　For　the　first　time　he　began　to　understand　something　of　the　true　power　of　the　mysterious　Boyar；　knew　why　the　Vlad　wanted　him　dead。　And　now；　too；　he　wished　he　hadn't　scoffed　so　much　at　the　warnings　of　his　court　informant。　Of　course；　he　could　always　go　back　to　the　village　and　bring　up　the　rest　of　his　men…couldn't　he？　Behind　him；　pale　tongues　lolling；　a　crush　of　furry　bodies　crowded　the　track　cut　from　the　face　of　the　cliff。
　Thibor　took　a　pace　their　way；　they　didn't　move　an　inch；　but　their　dog　grins　at　once　turned　to　snarls。　A　pace　in　the　other　direction；　and　they　crept　after。　He　had　an　escort。
　〃My　own　free　will；　eh？〃　he　muttered；　and　looked　at　the　sword　in　his　hand。　The　sword　of　some　warrior　Varyagi…a　good　Viking　sword…but　useless　if　the　pack　should　decide　to　attack　in　a　body。　Or　if　that　were　decided　for　them。　Thibor　knew　it；　and　he　suspected　that　they　knew　it；　too。
　He　sheathed　the　weapon；　found　nerve　to　mand：　〃Lead　on；　then；　my　lads…but　not　too　close　or　I'll　have　your　paws　for　lucky　charms！〃　And　so　they　took　him　to　the　castle　in　the　riven　rock。。。
　In　his　shallow　grave；　the　old　Thing　in　the　ground　shivered　again；　this　time　from　fear。　However　monstrous　a　man　may　bee　in　this　world；　when　he　dreams　of　his　youth　the　things　which　frightened　him　then　frighten　him　anew。　So　it　was　with　the　Thibor…creature；　and　now　his　dream　was　carrying　him　to　the　edge　of　terror　itself。
　The　sun　was　down；　its　rim　forming　the　merest　red　blister　on　the　hills；　but　still　its　rays　lanced　across　the　earth　and　gleamed　fitfully　on　land　where　shadows　visibly　lengthened；　quickly　blotting　out　the　sun's　golden　stains。　But　even　when　the　sun　was　fully　down；　burning　on　other　lands；　still　Thibor　might　not　〃waken〃　in　the　sense　that　men　waken；　for　he　was　one　who　might　dream　for　many　a　year　between　bouts　of　that　black　hatred　called　waking。　It　is　not　pleasant　to　be　a　Thing　in　the　ground　awake；　alone；　immobile；　undead。
　But　the　rich　blood　which　soaked　the　earth　would　waken　him；　certainly；　in　that　instant　when　it　touched　him。　Even　now　the　nearness　of　that　warm；　precious　liquid　roused　passions　in　him。　His　nostrils　gaped　for　its　scent；　his　desiccated　heart　urged　his　own　ancient　blood　faster　in　his　veins；　his　vampire　core　moaned　soundlessly　in　the　sleep　it　shared　with　him。
　Thibor's　dream；　however；　was　stronger。　It　was　a　magnet　of　the　mind；　luring　him　to　a　conclusion　he　knew　and　dreaded　of　old　but　which　he　must　always　experience　again。　And　down　in　the　cold　earth　in　the　glade　of　stirless　trees；　where　the　stones　of　his　mausoleum　lay　broken　and　matted　with　lichens；　the　nightmare　Thing　dreamed　on。。。
　The　way　widened；　grew　into　an　avenue　of　tall　dark　pines　atop　a　broad　levelled　rim　of　ages…impacted　scree。　On　Thibor's　left　hand；　beyond　the　straight　boles　of　the　pines；　smooth　black　rocks　rose　vertical　through　hundreds　of　feet　to　an　indigo　sky　strewn　with　stars；　on　his　right　the　trees　massed；　marched　down　the　no　longer　sheer　〃V　of　the　gorge　and　steeply　up　the　other　side。　At　the　bottom　water　gushed　and　gurgled；　invisible　beneath　a　night…black　canopy。　The　Vlad　had　been　right：　given　a　handful　of　men…or　wolves…the　Ferenczy　could　easily　defend　his　castle　against　an　army。　Inside　the　castle　itself；　however；　things　might　be　different。　Especially　if　the　Boyar　were　indeed　a　man　alone　or　nearly　so。
　Finally　the　ancient　pile　itself　loomed。　Its　stonework　was　massive；　but　pitted；　rotten。　On　both　sides　of　the　defile　huge　towers　rose　up　eighty　feet　and　more；　square　and　very　nearly　featureless　at　their　broad　bases；　higher　up　there　were　arched；　fortified　windows；　ledges　and　balconies　with　deep　embrasures；　and　gaping　stone　spouts　projecting　from　the　mouths　of　carved　gargoyle　or　kraken　heads。　At　the　top　of　each　tower；　more　embrasures　fronted　tiled　pyramid　spires；　but　with　gaping　holes　showing　through；　where　repairs　were　badly　needed；　and　over　everything　a　heavy　miasma　of　decay；　a　dank　and　clinging　patina；　as　if　the　very　stone　issued　a　cold　and　clammy　sweat。
　Half…way　up；　the　inward…facing　walls　sprouted　flying　buttresses　almost　as　massive　as　the　towers　themselves；　which　met　across　the　gorge　in　a　single　span…like　a　stone　bridge　some　eighty　or　ninety　feet　from　tower　to　tower。　Supported　by　the　buttresses；　a　long　single…storey　hall　with　small　square　windows　was　constructed　of　timbers。　It　had　a　peaked　roof　of　heavy　slates；　hall　and　roof　both　were　in　the　same　generally　poor　condition　as　the　towers。　But　for　the　fact　that　two　of　the　windows　were　lit　with　a　flickering　illumination；　the　entire　pile　might　seem　deserted；　derelict。　It　was　not　how　Thibor　imagined　the　residence　of　a　great　Boyar　should　look；　on　the　other　hand；　if　he　were　a　superstitious　man；　certainly　he　might　believe　that　demons　lived　there。
　The　ranks　of　wolves　began　to　thin　out　as　they　drew　closer　to　the　castle's　walls。　Moving　forward；　it　was　not　until　the　Wallach　stood　in　the　very　shadow　of　those　walls　that　he　saw　the　castle's　simple　defences：　a　trench　fifteen　feet　wide　and　fifteen　deep；　excavated　right　down　to　solid　rock；　the　bottom　furnished　with　long　pointed　stakes　setso　close　to　each　other　that　any　man　falling　in　must　surelybe　speared。　Then；　too；　he　saw　the　door：　a　heavy；　oak…　boarded；　iron…banded　affair　extended　at　its　top　to　form　adrawbridge。　And　even　as　he　looked；　so　the　door　was　creakingly　lowered；　heavy　chains　rattling　as　the　trench　was　bridged。
　In　the　opening　thus　revealed　stood　a　cloaked　figure　holding　before　him　a　flaring　torch。　Behind　the　glare　of　that　brand；　little　could　be　seen　of　features　but　a　blur；　all　that　Thibor　could　make　of　them　was　their　paleness；　and　a　vague　awareness　of　grotesque　proportions。　He　had　his　suspicions；　however；　and　more　than　suspicions…which　were　fully　borne　out　on　the　instant　that　the　figure　spoke：　〃And　so　you　have　e…of　your　own　free　will。〃
　Thibor　had　often　been　accused　of　being　a　cold　man　with　a　cold；　emotionless　voice。　It　was　something　he　had　never　denied。　But　if　his　voice　was　cold；　this　voice　might　have　issued　from　the　grave　itself。　And　where　Thibor　had　found　the　voice　soothing　in　the　first　instance；　now　it　grated　on　his　nerves　like　the　ache　of　a　rotten　tooth；　or　cold　steel　on　a　living　bone。　It　was　old…hoary　as　the　mountains；　and　possibly　entrusted　with　as　many　secrets…but　it　was　certainly　not　infirm。　It　held　the　authority　of　all　dark　knowledge。
　〃My　own　free　will？〃　Thibor　dared　to　look　away　from　the　figure；　saw　that　he　was　quite　alone。　The　wolves　had　melted　into　the　night；　into　the　mountains。　Perhaps　a　single　pair　of　yellow　eyes　gleamed　for　a　moment　under　the　trees；　but　that　was　all。　He　turned　ba