fs.thefirstbookofswords-第43部分

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ny　as　three　of　them；　since　their　steel　was　infused　with　the　gods'　magic。　And　a　question　that　has　nagged　at　me　was　answered　here；　last　night；　in　part：　what　would　happen　if　a　person；　a　being　of　any　nature；　were　to　touch　and　use　more　than　one　of　the　swords　at　the　same　time？〃
　　　Dame　Yoldi　paused；　looking　around　at　all　the　people　in　the　room。　〃And　what　if　two　or　more　of　the　gods'　swords　were　to　touch　each　other？　What　if　they　should　be　used　directly　against　each　other　in　battle？〃
　　　No　one　could　answer　her。
　　　All　were　thinking　that　Duke　Fraktin　soon　would　have　two　swords；　unless　his　courier　were　somehow　stopped。
Mark　met　Barbara's　expressive　eyes；　and　knew　what　she　was　thinking：　In　our　old　wagon　we　had　two　swords　at　once；　and　never　tried。。。
Chapter　13
　　　Nestor；　after　making　that　first　parry　in　time　to　save　his　life；　got　quickly　to　his　feet　and　stepped　back　from　the　attacking　larva。　As　it　came　after　him　he　backed　away。　It　continued　to　advance；　limping　even　as　he　had　imagined　it　must　move。　Nestor　was　backing　up　with　cautious　steps　that　took　him　along　the　jagged　edge　of　a　broken　roof。　On　his　left　was　the　paved　courtyard；　seven　meters　below；　sloping　upward　on　his　right　was　the　jumble　of　tilted；　fallen　slabs；　which　would　be　sure　to　offer　abominable　footing。
　　　The　thing　that　limped　after　Nestor　blew　little　moaning　cries　at　him　out　of　its　absence　of　a　face；　as　if　it　might　be　in　agony；　or　perhaps　in　love。　On　the　almost　featureless　front　of　its　head　only　the　dark　eyes　moved　a　little；　staying　locked　on　Nestor。　The　larva　was　advancing　with　its　bent　arms　raised；　both　its　weapons　held　up　near　its　head；　ready　to　parry　a　swordstroke　or　to　swing　at　him　again。　Not　only　were　those　forearms　armed　with　barbed　hook　and　torture…knife；　but　they　were　in　themselves　as　hard　as　bronze。　Nestor　had　a　good　gauge　now　of　that　metallic…hardness；　his　first　edged　parry　had　nicked　and　dented　the　thing's　right　wrist；　but　no　more　than　dented　it。　A　human　arm　would　almost　certainly　have　been　pletely　severed。
　　　After　backing　up　only　a　few　steps　along　the　rim　of　the　roof；　Nestor　decided　retreating　was　more　dangerous　than　standing　his　ground　would　be。　He　was　a　petent　swordsman；　and　the　blade　in　his　hand　a　superb　weapon；　even　when；　as　now；　whatever　magic　it　might　possess　was　in　abeyance。　Why　then　had　he　automatically　retreated；　and　why　did　deep　terror　still　lie　in　his　stomach　like　a　lump　of　ice？　The　terror　must　e；　he　realized；　only　from　the　peculiar　nature　of　his　enemy；　and　not　from　any　powers　that　it　had　so　far　demonstrated。　The　movements　of　his　foe　showed　speed　and　strength　…　but　no　more　speed　or　strength　than　many　human　opponents　might　have　shown。　And　the　larva　was　fighting　with　one　considerable；　obvious　disadvantage　…　though　its　weapons　were　two　in　number；　they　were　no　longer　than　its　arms。　If　Nestor　could　keep　his　nerve　and　his　footing；　and　use　his　own　magnificent　weapon　as　it　deserved　to　be　used；　such　an　attacker　ought　not　to　be　able　to　defeat　him。
　　　On　the　other　hand；　it　was　already　plain　that　the　larva　had　certain　advantages　as　well：　devilish　persistence；　and　a　horrible　durability。　When　Nestor　stood　his　ground　and　struck　back；　landing　a　hard　chop　on　its　torso；　he　had　the　sensation　of　having　hewn　into　frozen　mud。　The　gray　shell　cracked　at　the　spot　where　the　blow　landed；　and　substance　of　a　deeper　gray　began　oozing　out。　But　the　larva　was　not　disabled；　and　it　seemed　to　feel　nothing。　It　still　came　after　Nestor；　nor　was　it　minded　to　seek　its　own　safety　after　what　the　sword　had　begun　to　do　to　it。
　　　Nestor　feinted　a　high　blow；　and　then　hit　his　opponent　in　the　leg。　And　now　the　limp　that　he　had　so　accurately　forecast　became　more　pronounced。　When　Nestor　experimentally　retreated　a　step　again　to　see　what　the　thing　would　do；　it　followed。　Its　gait　was　now　a　trifle　slower。
　　　Of　course　it　might　be　keeping　speed　in　reserve；　something　to　surprise　the　man　with　at　a　critical　moment。　But　somehow　Nestor　doubted　that。　He　had　trouble　imagining　that　there　could　be　much　in　the　way　of　cleverness　behind　that　lack　of　face。　The　larva　blew　its　whistling；　forlorn　whine　at　him；　and　advanced　on　him　implacably。
　　　He　hit　it　again；　this　time　in　the　arm；　stopping　its　advance。　This　was　a　harder　blow；　with　much　of　the　swordsman's　weight　and　strength　behind　the　driving　edge；　and　now　one　of　the　larva's　wrists　and　weapons　dangled　from　a　forearm　that　had　been　almost　severed　for　all　its　hardness。　The　cut　was　leaking　slow　gray　slime　instead　of　blood。
　　　Nestor；　gaining　confidence　now；　made　up　his　mind　and　charged　the　larva　suddenly。　He　caught　it　with　its　weight　on　what　seemed　to　be　its　weaker　leg；　and　it　went　back　and　over　the　edge　of　the　roof　under　the　impact　of　a　hard　swordthrust　that　only　started　to　pierce　its　tough　breastplate。　As　it　went　back　and　over；　the　larva　made　grabbing　motions；　trying　to　seize　the　blade；　but　it　lacked　the　hands　with　which　to　grab　anything；　and　anyway　one　of　its　arms　was　almost　severed；　its　weapon　flapping　like　some　deadly　glove。　Still；　Nestor　had　one　horrible　moment；　in　which　he　feared　that　the　sword　was　stuck　so　firmly　into　the　chitinous　armor　that　it　might　be　pulled　from　his　hands　or　else　pull　him　after　the　larva　as　it　fell。　But　the　point　tugged　free　when　the　weight　of　the　gray　body　came　on　it　fully。
　　　No　skill　or　magic　broke　that　fall；　and　the　paved　court　was　a　full　seven　meters　down。　Looking　over　the　edge　of　the　roof　at　the　inert；　sprawled　figure　after　it　had　bounced；　Nestor　could　see　that　the　whole　gray　torso　was　now　networked　with　fine　cracks。　More　of　the　varied　grayness　that　must　serve　the　thing　as　life　was　oozing　from　inside。
　　　Nestor　had　no　more　than　started　his　first　easy　breath　when　the　thing　stirred。　Slowly　it　flexed　its　limbs；　then　got　back　to　its　feet。　It　tilted　its　head　back　to　let　its　eyes　find　its　human　enemy　again。　Then；　moving　deliberately；　it　limped　back　into　the　temple　on　the　level　below　Nestor。　He　felt　sure　that　it　was　ing　after　him　again。
　　　He　was　sweating　as　he　stood　there　on　the　broken　roof；　though　heavy　clouds　were　ing　over　the　sun。　He　had　the　feeling　that　he　had　entered　the　realm　of　nightmare。　But　the　urgency　of　bat　was　still　pumping　in　his　veins；　and　before　it　could　dissipate　back　into　fear　he　made　himself　start　looking　for　the　stairway　where　the　thing　would　logically　e　up　if　it　was　ing。　He　was　going　to　have　to　finish　it　off。
　　　They　faced　each　other；　Nestor　at　the　top　of　a　flight　of　halfruined；　vine…grown　stairs；　the　larva　at　the　bottom。　A　monkbird　screamed　somewhere；　still　mocking　the　noise　that　they　had　made。　With　scarcely　a　pause；　the　larva　started　up；　dragging　one　foot　after　it　in　its　methodical　limp；　dripping　spots　of　grayness　from　its　cracked　carapace。　It　raised　the　twisted　little　knife　that　was　its　one　remaining　weapon。
　　　Nestor；　watching　with　great　alertness；　saw　a　tiny　tip　of　something　appear　like　a　pointed　tongue　just　inside　the　larva's　small　round　mouth。　He　ducked；　swiftly　and　deeply；　and　heard　the　small　hiss　of　the　spat　dart　going　past　his　head。　Then　Nestor　leaped　forward　to　meet　his　enemy　halfway　on　the　stair。　He　piled　one　swordstroke　upon　another；　driving　the　thing　backwards　down　the　stairs　again；　and　then　into　a　stone　corner　where　it　collapsed　at　last。
　　　Though　it　went　down；　Nestor　kept　on　hacking　at　his　foe。　When　both　of　the　larva's　arms　had　been　disabled；　and　one　leg　taken　off　pletely；　he　went　for　the　torso；　which　at　last　burst　like　a　gray　boil。　Nestor　had　to　fight　down　the　urge　to　retch；　the　smell　that　arose　was　of　swamp　mud　and　putridity。
　　　〃And　no　heart；　by　all　the　demons；〃　he　muttered　to　himself。　〃No　heart　to　stop　in　the　damned　thing　anywhere。〃　Indeed；　nothing　that　he　could　recognize　as　an　internal　organ　of　any　kind　was　visible；　only　thicker　and　thinner　grayness　that　varied　in　its　consistency　and　hue。
　　　Still；　the　broken　arms　of　the　thing　kept　trying　to　hit　at　Nestor's　feet；　or　grab　his　legs。　The　attached　gray　leg　still　wanted　to　get　the　body　up。　Nestor；　reciting　all　the　demons'　names　he　knew；　swore　that　he　was　going　to　finish　the　horror　off；　and　he　went　at　it　like　a　woodchopper；　or　rather　a　madman；　abandoning　skill。　Some　of　his　strokes　now　were　so　ill…aimed　that　the　sword　rang　off　the　flagstones　of　the　paved　yard。
　　　Taking　the　head　pletely　off　se