mck.harpistinthewind-第31部分

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　other；　buried　their　children　beneath　a　mountain　to　die。　They　knew　all　the　languages　of　the　earth；　all　the　laws　of　its　shapes　and　movement。　What　happened　to　them？　Did　they　stumble　into　the　shape　of　something　that　had　no　law　but　power？〃　His　voice　was　whispering　away　from　him　as　if　out　of　a　dream。　〃What　shape？〃
　　　　　　　He　fell　silent　abruptly。　He　was　shivering；　yet　sweating。　The　smell　of　water　pulled　at　him　mercilessly。　He　reached　out　to　it　again；　his　throat　tormented　with　thirst。　His　hands　halted　before　they　broke　the　surface。　Raederle's　face；　dreamlike　in　its　beauty；　looked　back　at　him　from　the　still　water　between　his　hands。　Her　long　hair　flowed　away　from　her　face　like　the　sun's　fire。　He　forgot　his　thirst。　He　knelt　motionlessly　for　a　long　time；　gazing　down　at　it；　not　knowing　if　it　was　real　or　if　he　had　fashioned　it　out　of　longing；　and　not　caring。
　　　　　　　Then　a　hand　struck　at　it；　shattering　the　image；　sending　rings　of　movement　shivering　to　the　far　edges　of　the　lake。
　　　　　　　A　murderous；　uncontrollable　fury　swept　Morgon　to　his　feet。　He　wanted　to　kill　Ghisteslwchlohm　with　his　hands；　but　he　could　not　even　see　the　wizard。　A　power　battered　him　away　again　and　again。　He　scarcely　felt　pain；　shapes　were　reeling　faster　than　language　in　his　mind。　He　discarded　them；　searching　for　the　one　shape　powerful　enough　to　contain　his　rage。　He　felt　his　body　fray　into　shapelessness；　a　sound　filled　his　mind；　deep；　harsh；　wild；　the　voices　out　of　the　farthest　reaches　of　the　backlands。　But　they　were　no　longer　empty。　Something　shuddered　through　him；　flinging　off　a　light　snapping　through　the　air。　He　felt　thoughts　groping　into　his　mind；　but　his　own　thoughts　held　no　language　except　a　sound　like　a　vibrant；　untuned　harp　string。　He　felt　the　fury　in　him　expand；　shape　itself　to　all　the　hollows　and　forms　of　the　stone　chamber。　He　flung　the　wizard　across　the　cavern；　held　him　like　a　leaf　before　the　wind；　splayed　against　the　stones。
　　　　　　　Then　he　realized　what　shape　he　had　taken。
　　　　　　　He　fell　back　into　his　own　shape；　the　wild　energy　in　him　suddenly　gone。　He　knelt　on　the　stones；　trembling；　half…sobbing　in　fear　and　amazement。　He　heard　the　wizard　stumble　away　from　the　wall；　breathing　haltingly；　as　if　his　ribs　were　cracked。　As　he　moved　across　the　cavern；　Morgon　heard　voices　all　around　him；　speaking　various　plex　languages　of　the　earth。
　　　　　　　He　heard　the　whispering　of　fire；　the　shiver　of　leaves；　the　howl　of　a　wolf　in　the　lonely；　moonlit　backlands；　the　dry　riddling　of　corn　leaves。　Then；　far　away；　he　heard　a　sound；　as　if　the　mountain　itself　had　sighed。　He　felt　the　stone　shift　slightly　under　him。　A　sea　bird　cried　harshly。　Someone　with　a　hand　of　tree　bark　and　light　flung　Morgon　onto　his　back。
　　　　　　　He　whispered　bitterly；　feeling　the　starred　sword　wrenched　from　his　side；　〃One　riddle　and　one　door。〃
　　　　　　　But；　though　he　waited　in　the　eye　of　darkness　for　the　sword　to　fall；　nothing　touched　him。　He　was　caught　suddenly；　breathless；　in　their　tension　of　waiting。　Then　Raederle's　voice；　raised　in　a　Great　Shout；　shook　stones　loose　from　the　ceiling　and　jarred　him　out　of　his　waiting。　〃Morgon！〃
　　　　　　　The　sword　hummed　wildly　with　the　aftermath　of　the　shout。　Morgon　heard　it　bounce　against　the　stones。　He　shouted　Raederle's　name　involuntarily；　in　horror；　and　the　floor　lurched　under　him　again；　shrugging　him　toward　the　lake。　The　sword　slid　after　him。　It　was　still　vibrating；　a　strange　high　note　that　stilled　as　Morgon　caught　it　and　sheathed　it。　There　was　a　sound　as　if　a　crystal　in　one　of　the　walls　had　cracked。
　　　　　　　It　sang　as　it　broke：　a　low；　tuned　note　that　shattered　its　own　core。　Other　crystals　began　to　hum；　the　ground　floor　of　the　mountain　rumbled。　The　great　slabs　of　ceiling　stone　ground　themselves　together。　Dust　and　rubble　hissed　down；　half…formed　crystals　snapped　and　pounded　to　pieces　on　the　floor。　Languages　of　bats；　dolphins；　bees　brushed　through　the　chamber。　A　tension　snaked　through　the　air；　and　Morgon　heard　Raederle　scream。　Sobbing　a　curse；　he　pulted　himself　to　his　feet　The　floor　grumbled　beneath　him；　then　roared。　One　side　of　it　lifted；　fell　ponderously　onto　the　other。　It　flung　him　into　the　lake。　The　whole　lake　basin；　a　huge；　round　bowl　carved　into　solid　stone；　began　to　tilt。
　　　　　　　He　was　buried　for　a　few　moments　in　a　wave　of　black　water。　When　he　surfaced　again；　he　heard　a　sound　as　if　the　mountain　itself；　torn　apart　at　its　roots；　had　groaned。
　　　　　　　A　wind　blasted　into　the　stone　chamber。　It　blinded　Morgon；　drove　his　own　cry　back　into　his　throat。　It　whirled　the　lake　into　a　black　vortex　that　dragged　him　down　into　it。　He　heard；　before　he　was　engulfed；　something　that　was　either　the　ring　of　blood　in　his　ears　or　a　note　like　a　fine…tuned　string　at　the　core　of　the　deep　wind's　voice。
　　　　　　　The　water　spat　him　back　up。　The　basin　had　tilted　farther；　pouring　him　out　with　the　water　toward　the　sheer　wall　at　the　far　side。　He　snatched　a　breath；　dove　under　water；　trying　to　swim　against　the　wave。　But　it　hurled　him　back；　heaved　him　at　solid　stone。　As　he　sensed　the　wall　blur　up　before　him；　it　split　open。　The　wave　poured　through　the　crack；　dragging　him　with　it。Through　the　thunder　of　water；　he　heard　the　final　reverberations　of　the　mountain　burying　its　own　heart。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　The　lake　water　dragged　him　through　the　jagged　split；　poured　over　a　lip　of　stone　into　a　roiling　stream。　He　tried　to　pull　himself　out；　catching　at　ledges；　at　walls　rough　with　jewels；　but　the　wind　was　still　with　him；　pushing　him　back　into　the　water；　driving　the　water　before　it。　The　stream　flooded　into　another；　a　whirlpool　dragged　him　under　a　ledge　of　stone　into　another　river。　The　river　cast　him　finally　out　of　the　mountain；　dragged　him　down　foaming　rapids；　and　threw　him；　half…drowned；　his　veins　full　of　bitter　water；　into　the　Ose。
　　　　　　　He　pulled　himself　ashore　finally；　lay　hugging　the　sunlit　ground。　The　wild　winds　still　pounded　at　him；　the　great　pines　were　groaning　as　they　bent。　He　coughed　up　the　bitter　water　he　had　swallowed。　When　he　moved　finally　to　drink　the　sweet　waters　of　the　Ose；　the　wind　nearly　flung　him　back　in。　He　raised　his　head；　looked　at　the　mountain。　A　portion　of　its　side　had　been　sucked　in；　trees　lay　uprooted；　splintered　in　the　shift　of　stone　and　earth。　All　down　the　pass；　as　far　as　he　could　see；　the　wind　raged；　bending　trees　to　their　breaking　point。
　　　　　　　He　tried　to　stand；　but　he　had　no　strength　left。　The　wind　seemed　to　be　hounding　him　out　of　his　own　shape。　He　reached　out；　bis　hands　closed　on　huge　roots。　He　felt；　as　the　tree　shivered　in　his　hold；　the　core　of　its　great　strength。　Clinging　to　it；　he　pulled　himself　up　by　its　knots　and　holes。　Then　he　stepped　away　from　it　and　lifted　his　arms　as　if　to　enclose　the　wind。
　　　　　　　Branches　grew　from　his　hands；　his　hair。　His　thoughts　tangled　like　roots　in　the　ground。　He　strained　upward。　Pitch　ran　like　tears　down　his　bark。　His　name　formed　his　core；　ring　upon　ring　of　silence　built　around　it。　His　face　rose　high　above　the　forests。　Gripped　to　earth；　bending　to　the　wind's　fury；　he　disappeared　within　himself；　behind　the　hard；　wind…scrolled　shield　of　his　experiences。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　XII
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　HE　DWINDLED　BACK　INTO　HIS　OWN　SHAPE　ON　A　rainy；　blustery　autumn　day。　He　stood　in　the　cold　winds；　blinking　rain　out　of　his　eyes；　trying　to　remember　a　long；　wordless　passage　of　time。　The　Ose；　grey　as　a　knife　blade；　shivered　past　him；　the　stone　peaks　of　the　pass　were　half…buried　under　heavy　cloud。　The　trees　around　him　clung　deeply　to　the　earth；　engrossed　in　their　own　existences。　They　pulled　at　him　again。　His　mind　slid　past　their　tough　wet　bark；　back　into　a　slow　peace　around　which　tree　rings　formed　and　hardened。　But　a　wind　vibrated　through　his　memories；　shook　a　mountain　down　around　him；　throwing　him　back　into　water；　back　into　the　rain。　He　moved　reluctantly；　breaking　a　binding　with　the　earth；　and　turned　toward　Erlenstar　Mountain。　He　saw　the　scar　in　its　side　under　a　blur　of　mist　and　the　dark　water　still　swirling　out　of　it　to　join　the　Ose。
　　　　　　　He　gazed　at　it　a　long　time；　piecing　together　fragments　of　a　dark；　troubling　dream。　The　implications　of　it　woke　him　pletely；　he　began　to　shiver　in　the　driving　rain。　He　scented　through　the　afternoon　with　his　mind。　He　found　no　one　…　trapper；　wizard；　shape…changer　…　in　the　pass。　A　windblown　crow　sailed　past　him　on　an　updraft；　he　caught　eagerly　at　it