Questing Knight(科幻战争)-第4部分

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shivered。
‘It　is　like　the　edge　of　the　world；’　said　Chlod。　‘And　we　are　sailing　straight　towards　it。’
‘Nonsense；’　said　Calard。　‘It　is　fog；　nothing　more。’
He　was　turning　a　sword　over　in　his　hands；　marvelling　at　its　workmanship。　The　blade　was　flawless；
gleaming　silver　and　the　pommel　was　beautifully　crafted　into　the　shape　of　a　fleur…de…lys。
The　Sword　of　Garamont　was　a　priceless　heirloom；　and　it　had　been　in　the　family　for　generations。　Said
to　have　been　blessed　by　the　kiss　of　the　Lady　herself；　Calard　had　presented　it　to　his　nephew　Orlando
when　he　had　taken　up　his　quest。　He　had　feared　it　lost；　stolen　or　destroyed　when　his　castle　was　sacked；
but　such　fears　had　been　proven　unfounded。　Before　he　had　left　Sangasse　three　weeks　earlier；　Maloric　had
brought　it　to　him；　wrapped　in　velvet。
‘My　men　found　it　in　the　ruins；’　the　Earl　of　Sangasse　had　said。　‘I　thought　it　best　not　to　leave　it　for

scavengers。’
Miraculously；　perhaps　protected　by　the　Lady’s　blessing；　the　blade　had　survived　the　fire　unscathed。
Calard　sheathed　the　sword；　and　buckled　it　around　his　waist。
They　were　approaching　the　midway　point　of　the　Grismarie；　and　the　river’s　black　water　was　flowing
fast　and　deep　beneath　them。　Squat　guard　towers　could　be　seen　along　the　river　bank　in　the　distance
behind　them；　on　the　Bastonne　side　of　the　Grismarie。　Similar　towers　were　positioned　all　along　the　many
hundreds　of　miles　of　Mousillon’s　borders。　Funded　by　the　king’s　coffers；　these　bastions　had　been　erected
almost　five　hundred　years　earlier；　and　they　stood　as　silent　sentinels；　ever　watchful　for　a　threat　from
Mousillon。　At　the　first　sign　of　trouble；　the　massive　pyres　atop　the　towers　would　be　lit；　one　after　another；
spreading　the　word　faster　than　an　eagle　could　fly。
Calard’s　horse　whinnied　and　shuffled　uneasily；　hooves　sounding　sharply　on　the　barge’s　deck。
Standing；　Calard　moved　back　to　where　the　destrier　was　tethered　and　spoke　to　her　in　soothing　tones；
stroking　her　neck。　Five　surly　boatmen　worked　the　barge　in　silence；　but　Calard　ignored　them。　Having
settled　his　warhorse；　he　made　his　way　towards　the　bow；　where　Chlod　sat　clutching　the　gunwale。　The
barge　rocked　gently　to　and　fro；　and　Calard；　unused　to　being　on　the　water；　kept　a　solid　grip　on　the　railing
as　he　moved　to　the　front　of　the　barge。
‘No　good　will　come　of　this；’　said　Chlod。　The　peasant　was　clearly　terrified。
The　fog　loomed　hundreds　of　feet　above　them；　like　the　sheer　walls　of　a　castle　marking　the　midway
point　across　the　Grismarie。　The　hunch…backed　peasant　closed　his　eyes　and　muttered　a　prayer　as　the
barge　entered　the　murk。
A　chill　descended　on　them；　its　touch　wet　and　cloying；　and　visibility　was　suddenly　reduced　to　less　than
a　few　feet。　The　mist　seemed　to　swallow　up　all　sound；　making　even　the　lapping　of　water　upon　the　hull　of
the　barge　sound　strangely　distant。　The　fog　seeped　in　under　Calard’s　armour；　making　his　skin　wet　and
clammy；　and　he　began　to　shiver。
Something　ground　against　the　underside　of　the　barge；　which　began　to　rock　back　and　forth　alarmingly。
‘What　was　that？’　squeaked　Chlod；　eyes　snapping　open；　fingernails　digging　into　the　wooden　gunwale。
‘Big　fish；’　said　one　of　the　grim…faced　boatmen。　Calard　was　unsure　if　the　man　was　joking　or　not。
Within　minutes；　Calard　was　soaked　to　the　skin；　his　hair　clinging　in　long　wet　strands　down　his　neck。
The　journey　through　the　fog　seemed　to　last　an　eternity。　Strange　noises　echoed　around　them：　creaks；
groans　and　distant　screams　that　Calard　guessed　were　seabirds　but　sounded　distinctly　human。　On　more
than　one　occasion　he　was　convinced　he　heard　whispering　voices　nearby；　but　saw　nothing。
Chlod　gave　a　yelp　at　one　point；　and　Calard　glared　at　him。
‘I　felt　someone　breathing　on　my　neck；’　said　Chlod；　his　voice　strained。
‘You　imagined　it；’　said　Calard。　‘Be　silent。’
Calard　was　starting　to　doubt　the　boatmen’s　ability　to　guide　the　barge　safely　through　the　fog　when　the
sound　of　gravel　scraping　against　the　hull　signalled　their　arrival　on　the　shores　of　Mousillon。
The　riverbank　appeared　like　a　mirage　through　the　fog　as　the　barge　came　to　a　grinding　halt　in　the
shallows。　The　land　was　rendered　in　shades　of　grey　and　hidden　in　mist；　but　a　narrow　strip　of　black　sand
soon　emerged　forming　a　beach　in　front　of　them。
Clearly　eager　to　be　away；　the　boatmen　unloaded　the　barge　hastily。　There　was　a　brief　struggle　to　get
Chlod’s　mule　off　the　deck。　The　obstinate　beast　was　reluctant　to　step　ashore；　and　the　struggle　only　ended
after　Calard　slapped　it　hard　on　the　flank。　His　own　steed　was　equally　uneasy；　but　did　as　it　was　bid　with
less　complaint；　stepping　off　the　front　of　the　vessel　and　splashing　into　the　shallow　black　water。　Without　a

word　of　farewell；　the　boatmen　poled　the　barge　off　the　river　bank　and　were　swallowed　by　the　fog。
It　was　as　dark　as　twilight；　though　it　couldn’t　have　been　an　hour　past　midday。　Looking　around　them；　it
seemed　to　Calard　as　if　all　colour　had　been　bleached　from　the　land。　The　sun　had　been　shining　through　the
clouds　on　the　other　side　of　the　river；　but　it　was　nowhere　to　be　seen　here。　The　grass　and　vegetation　was
shrivelled　and　dead。　A　lone　tree　stood　nearby；　its　trunk　twisted。　A　raven　the　size　of　a　small　dog　perched
on　a　leafless　branch；　watching　them　with　its　head　cocked　to　one　side。　Calard　saw　movement　in　the
corner　of　his　eye；　but　whenever　he　turned　to　face　it；　it　was　gone。
‘We’re　never　leaving　here　alive；’　said　Chlod。
Somewhere　in　the　mist；　a　wolf　began　to　howl。
IV
SOMETHING　WAS　HUNTING　them。
They　had　barely　halted；　riding　westwards　through　lonely；　wind…swept　landscapes　and　muddy　fields
filled　with　rotting　crops。　They　had　passed　through　a　number　of　isolated　peasant　hamlets；　but　seen　only
glimpses　of　the　inhabitants　peeking　out　at　them　through　barred　windows。
The　haunted　realm　had　at　first　seemed　to　exist　in　a　permanent　state　of　twilight；　but　the　shadows
deepened　as　that　twilight　gave　way　to　night。　With　no　visible　moon　or　star　in　the　sky　overhead；　the
darkness　was　soon　all…consuming。　Only　far　beneath　the　Worlds　Edge　Mountains　had　Calard　experienced
such　utter　blackness。　Lighting　torches；　they　continued　on　through　that　first；　nightmarish　night。
The　darkness　was　filled　with　the　howling　of　wolves；　the　beat　of　heavy；　leathery　wings；　and　the　rustle
of　unseen　creatures　in　the　undergrowth　nearby。　They　dared　not　rest；　and　pushed　on　through　the　night。　A
multitude　of　eyes　glinted　in　the　torchlight；　watching　their　progress。　In　a　break　in　the　ever…present　fog；
Calard　glimpsed　huge；　black…furred　wolves　loping　alongside　the　road；　dogging　their　progress。
Wolves　were　not　the　only　things　stalking　them。　On　more　than　one　occasion　Calard　glimpsed　hunched
figures　on　the　road　behind　them。
‘They’re　back　again；’　said　Chlod；　his　voice　strained　as　he　looked　back　along　the　road　behind。
‘They　have　been　there　for　some　time；’　Calard　replied。
‘They　are　growing　bolder。’
‘‘We　need　to　find　shelter；’　said　Calard。　‘We　cannot　travel　on　through　another　night　without　rest；　not
hounded　by　those。。。　things。’
They　continued　on　in　silence　as　the　shadows　deepened　around　them。　Abruptly；　the　muddy　road
turned　and　veered　over　a　small　creek；　angling　straight　into　the　dark　forest　they　had　so　far　been　skirting。
The　wood　was　shadowy　and　threatening；　its　trees　bloated　and　misshapen。　Their　trunks　were　rotten　and
covered　in　lichen　and　fungus。
‘Do　we　go　in？’　asked　Chlod。
‘It　has　to　lead　somewhere；’　said　Calard。　‘And　we　have　to　keep　moving。’
With　a　nudge；　he　urged　his　steed　on。　Its　hooves　sank　into　the　marshy　ground　as　it　stepped　down　to
the　shallow　creek。　The　water　stank；　and　was　covered　in　a　film　of　scum。　With　a　kick　of　encouragement；
Calard’s　warhorse　leapt　forward；　clearing　the　stream　and　climbing　the　bank　on　the　other　side。
Chlod’s　mule　was　incapable　of　such　a　leap　and　seemed　reluctant　to　step　into　the　foul　waters。　As
Chlod　kicked　and　swore　at　the　stubborn　beast；　Calard’s　gaze　was　drawn　upwards　by　the　ugly　cawing　of
carrion　birds。
More　than　a　dozen　corpses　were　strung　up　in　the　trees　overhead；　hanging　from　ropes　and　gibbets。

They　spun　gently　as　black　birds　tore　strips　of　flesh　from　the　bodies。
Movement　in　the　trees　dragged　his　attention　down　from　the　grisly　sight。　Shadows　were　detaching
themselves　from　the　surrounding　darkness；　edging　towards　them。
Calard　reached　over　his　back　and　drew　his　massive　bastard　sword　from　its　sheath；　holding　it
one…handed。
‘Hurry　up；　peasant！’　he　hissed。
Perhaps　catching　a　scent　of　the　hunters　on　the　breeze；　the　mule　lurched　forwards　suddenly；　almost
throwing　Chlod　from　its　back；　and　the　peasant　lost　his　grip　on　the　reins。
‘Whoa！’　shouted　Chlod；　clinging　on　desperately　as　the　mule　set　off　down　the　roadway；　ears　flat
against　its　skull。
Calard’s　steed　flared　its　nostrils　and　stamped　its　hooves；　and　he　fought　to　keep　it　under　control；
guiding　it　skilfully　with　his　knees　as　he　took　his　sword　in　both　hands。　He　heard　something　hiss　nearby；　the
sound　low　and　sibilant；　and　he　kicked　his　steed　into　a　canter。　It　needed　no　encouragement；　and　took
after　Chlod　instantly。
Glancing　back；　Calard　saw　a　pack　of　hunched　creatures　loping　after　them。　He　could　not　tell　if　they
were　human　or　beast；　or　some　horrid　blend　of　the　two。
Something　caught　at　his　hair；　scratching　his　neck；　and　Calard　swung　his　sword