mck.harpistinthewind-第55部分

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ried　under　snow　to　see　her　face。　All　along　both　sides　of　the　plain　hundreds　of　fires　had　been　lit　all　night；　as　men　and　women　of　the　realm　waited　sleeplessly　while　he　wrested　their　fates；　moment　by　moment；　out　of　the　passing　hours。　They　nursed　their　wounded　and　wondered　if　they　would　survive　the　passage　of　power　from　the　High　One　to　his　heir。　At　last；　he　gave　them　dawn。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　It　came　as　a　single　eye　staring　at　him　through　white　mist。　He　drew　back　into　himself；　his　hands　full　of　winds。　He　was　alone　on　a　quiet　plain。　The　Earth…Masters　had　shifted　their　battleground　eastward；　moving　across　Ruhn。　He　stood　quietly　a　moment；　wondering　if　he　had　lived　through　a　single　night　or　a　century　of　them。　Then　he　turned　his　mind　away　from　the　night　to　scent　the　path　of　the　Earth…Masters。
　　　　　　　They　had　fled　across　Ruhn。　Towns　and　farms；　lords'　houses　lay　in　ruins；　fields；　woods；　and　orchards　had　been　harrowed　and　seared　with　power。　Men；　children；　animals　trapped　in　the　range　of　their　minds　had　been　killed。　As　his　awareness　moved　across　the　wasteland；　he　felt　a　harp　song　building　through　bun。　Winds　in　his　control　stirred　to　it；　angry；　dangerous；　pulling　him　out　of　his　shape　until　he　was　half…man；　half…wind；　a　harpist　playing　a　death　song　on　a　harp　with　no　strings。
　　　　　　　Then　he　roused　all　the　power　that　lay　buried　under　the　great　cities　across　Ymris。　He　had　sensed　it　in　the　High　One's　mind；　and　he　knew　at　last　why　the　Earth…Masters　had　warred　for　possession　of　their　cities。　They　were　all　cairns；　broken　monuments　to　their　dead。　The　power　had　lain　dormant　under　the　earth　for　thousands　of　years。　But；　as　with　the　wraiths　of　An；　their　minds　could　be　roused　with　memory；　and　Morgon；　his　mind　burrowing　under　the　stones；　shocked　them　awake　with　his　grief。　He　did　not　see　them。　But　on　Wind　Plain　and　King's　Mouth　Plain；　in　the　ruins　across　Ruhn　and　east　Umber；　a　power　gathered；　hung　over　the　stones　like　the　eerie；　unbearable　tension　in　the　sky　before　a　storm　breaks。　The　tension　was　felt　in　Caerweddin　and　in　towns　still　surviving　around　the　ruins。　No　one　spoke　that　dawn；　they　waited。
　　　　　　　Morgon　began　to　move　across　Wind　Plain。　An　army　of　the　Earth…Masters'　dead　moved　with　him；　flowed　across　Ymris；　searching　out　the　living　Earth…Masters　to　finish　a　war。　Winds　hounded　the　Earth…Masters　out　of　the　shape　of　stone　and　leaf　they　hid　in；　the　dead　forced　them　with　a　silent；　relentless　purpose　out　of　the　land　they　had　once　loved。　They　scattered　across　the　back　lands；　through　wet；　dark　forests；　across　bare　hills；　across　the　icy　surfaces　of　the　Lungold　Lakes。　Morgon；　the　winds　running　before　him；　the　dead　at　his　back；　pursued　them　across　the　threshold　of　winter。　He　drove　them　as　inflexibly　as　they　had　once　driven　him　toward　Erlenstar　Mountain。
　　　　　　　They　tried　to　fight　him　one　last　time　before　he　pelled　them　into　the　mountain。　But　the　dead　rose　around　him　like　stone；　and　the　winds　raged　against　them。　He　could　have　destroyed　them；　stripped　them　of　their　power；　as　they　had　tried　to　do　to　him。　But　something　of　their　beauty　lingered　in　Raederle；　showing　him　what　they　might　have　been　once；　and　he　could　not　kill　them。　He　did　not　even　touch　their　power。　He　forced　them　into　Erlenstar　Mountain；　where　they　fled　from　him　into　the　shape　of　water　and　jewel。　He　sealed　the　entire　Mountain　…　all　shafts　and　hidden　springs；　the　surface　of　the　earth；　and　ground　floor　of　rock　…　with　his　name。　Among　trees　and　stones；　light　and　wind；　around　the　mountain；　he　bound　the　dead　once　more；　to　guard　the　mountain。　Then　he　loosed　the　winds　from　his　song；　and　they　drew　winter　down　from　the　northlands　across　the　whole　of　the　realm。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　XXI
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　HE　RETURNED　TO　WIND　PLAIN；　THEN；　DRAWN　BY　MEMORY。　There　was　snow　all　over　the　plain　and　on　all　the　jagged；　piled　faces　of　the　stones。　There　was　smoke　among　the　trees　around　the　plain；　for　no　one　had　left　it。　The　gathering　of　men；　women；　animals　was　still　there；　waiting　for　his　return。　They　had　buried　their　dead　and　sent　for　supplies；　they　were　settling　for　the　winter；　bound　to　the　plain。
　　　　　　　Morgon　took　his　shape　out　of　the　winds；　beside　the　ruined　tower。　He　heard　the　Morgol　talking　to　Goh；　he　saw　Har　checking　the　splint　on　a　crippled　vesta。　He　did　not　know　if　Eliard　was　still　alive。　Looking　up　at　the　huge　cairn；　he　stepped　forward　into　his　sorrow。　He　laid　his　face　against　one　of　the　cold；　beautiful　stones；　stretched　his　arms　across　it；　wanting　to　enpass　the　entire　cairn；　hold　it　in　his　heart。　He　felt　bound；　suddenly；　as　if　he　were　a　wraith；　and　all　his　past　was　buried　in　those　stones。　As　he　mourned；　men　began　to　move　across　the　plain。　He　saw　them　without　thinking　about　them　in　his　mind's　eye：　tiny　figures　drawn　across　the　blank；　snow…covered　plain。　When　he　finally　turned；　he　found　them　in　a　silent　ring　around　him。
　　　　　　　They　had　been　drawn　to　him；　he　sensed；　the　way　be　had　always　been　drawn　to　Deth：　with　no　reason；　no　question；　simply　instinct。　The　land…rulers　of　the　realm；　the　four　wizards　stood　quietly　with　him。　They　did　not　know　what　to　say　to　him　as　he　stood　there　in　his　power　and　his　grief；　they　were　simply　responding　to　something　in　him　that　had　brought　peace　to　the　ancient　plain。
　　　　　　　He　looked　at　the　faces　he　knew　so　well。　They　were　scarred　with　sorrow　for　the　High　One；　for　their　own　dead。　Finding　Eliard　among　them；　he　felt　something　quicken　painfully　in　his　heart。　Eliard's　face　was　as　he　had　never　seen　it：　colorless　and　hard　as　winter　ground。　A　third　of　the　farmers　of　Hed　had　been　sent　back　to　Hed；　to　be　buried　beneath　the　frozen　ground。　The　winter　would　be　hard　for　the　living；　and　Morgon　did　not　know　how　to　fort　him。　But　as　he　looked　at　Morgon　mutely；　something　else　came　into　his　eyes　that　had　never　been　in　the　changeless；　stolid　heritage　of　the　Princes　of　Hed：　he　had　been　touched　by　mystery。
　　　　　　　Morgon's　eyes　moved　to　Astrin。　He　seemed　still　dazed　by　Heureu's　death　and　the　sudden；　far…flung　power　he　possessed。　〃I'm　sorry；〃　Morgon　said。　The　words　sounded　as　light　and　meaningless　as　the　snow　flecking　the　massive　stones　behind　him。　〃I　felt　him　die。　But　I　couldn't。。。　I　couldn't　help　him。　I　felt　so　much　death。。。〃
　　　　　　　The　single　white　eye　seemed　to　gaze　into　him　at　the　word。　〃You're　alive；〃　he　whispered。　〃High　One。　You　survived　to　name　yourself　at　last；　and　you　brought　peace　to　this　morning。〃
　　　　　　　〃Peace。〃　He　felt　the　stones　behind　him；　cold　as　ice。
　　　　　　　〃Morgon；〃　Danan　said　softly；　〃when　we　saw　that　tower　fall；　none　of　us　expected　to　see　another　dawn。〃
　　　　　　　〃So　many　didn't。　So　many　of　your　miners　died。〃
　　　　　　　〃So　many　didn't。　I　have　a　great　mountain　full　of　trees；　you　gave　it　back　to　us；　our　home　to　return　to。〃
　　　　　　　〃We　have　lived　to　see　the　passage　of　power　from　the　High　One　to　his　heir；〃　Har　said。　〃We　paid　a　price　for　our　seeing；　but。。。　we　survived。〃　His　eyes　were　oddly　gentle　in　the　pure；　cold　light。　He　shifted　the　cloak　over　his　shoulders：　an　old；　gnarled　king；　with　the　first　memories　of　the　realm　in　his　heart。　〃You　played　a　wondrous　game　and　won。　Don't　grieve　for　the　High　One。　He　was　old　and　near　the　end　of　his　power。　He　left　you　a　realm　at　war；　an　almost　impossible　heritage；　and　all　his　hope。　You　did　not　fail　him。　Now　we　can　return　home　in　peace；　without　having　to　fear　the　stranger　at　our　thresholds。　When　the　door　opens　unexpectedly　to　the　winter　winds；　and　we　look　up　from　our　warm　hearths　to　find　the　High　One　in　our　house；　it　will　be　you。　He　left　us　that　gift。〃
　　　　　　　Morgon　was　silent。　Sorrow　touched　him　again；　lightly；　like　a　searching　flame；　in　spite　of　all　their　words。　Then　he　felt　from　one　of　them　an　answering　sorrow　that　no　words　could　fort。　He　sought　it；　something　of　himself；　and　found　it　in　Mathom；　tired　and　shadowed　by　death。
　　　　　　　Morgon　took　a　step　toward　him。　〃Who？〃
　　　　　　　〃Duac；〃　the　King　said。　He　drew　a　dry　breath；　standing　dark　as　a　wraith　against　the　snow。　〃He　refused　to　stay　in　An。。。　the　only　argument　I　have　ever　lost。　My　land…heir　with　his　eyes　of　the　sea。。。〃
　　　　　　　Morgon　was　mute　again；　wondering　how　many　of　his　bindings　had　been　broken；　how　many　deaths　he　had　not　sensed。　He　said　suddenly；　remembering；　〃You　knew　the　High　One　would　die　here。〃
　　　　　　　〃He　named　himself；〃　Mathom　said。　〃I　did　not　need　to　dream　that。　Bury　him　here；　where　he　chose　to　die。　Let　h