df.therunelords-第110部分

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　Then　Raj　Ahten　fled。　He　leaped　a　stone　fence；　raced　over　the　downs。
　Orden　counted　off　seconds；　trying　to　guess　Raj　Ahten's　speed。　A　hundred　and　ten；　perhaps　a　hundred　and　twenty　miles　per　hour　the　Runelord　raced　over　the　flats；　slowing　as　he　careered　round　the　castle；　taking　to　the　air　as　he　raced　over　a　hill　up　the　north　roadtoward　the　old　observatory。
　If　that　is　the　fastest　you　can　run；　I　can　beat　you；　Orden　exulted。　He　glanced　at　his　men　along　the　wall…walk。
　He　had　a　hundred　young　men　lying　beneath　the　merlons；　waiting　for　flameweavers　to　send　their　infernal　missiles　to　smash　against　the　castle。　Spurts　of　fire　would　rise　up　through　the　grillwork　of　the　machicolations。　Each　four　or　five　times　such　a　missile　hit；　the　young　men　were　to　cry　out　as　if　wounded。　Some　young　men　were　very　dramatic；　and　at　that　moment；　one　of　them　leapt　up；　holding　a　leather　vest　against　himself　and　batting　at　it　furiously　before　pretending　to　fall　as　one　slain。　The　boy　had　set　the　vest　there　ten　minutes　earlier；　waiting　for　it　to　catch　fire。
　Many　boys　nearby　tried　to　stifle　chuckles　at　these　antics。　But　those　antics　served　a　purpose。　So　long　as　Raj　Ahten　believed　his　tactics　wore　the　castle　down；　he'd　keep　at　them。
　Orden　took　quick　stock。　If　he　could　follow　Raj　Ahten；　catch　him；　he'd　be　able　to　battle　him　alone；　man　to　man。
　〃I'd　better　go；〃　Orden　said。
　Beside　him；　one　of　his　captains　gazed　longingly　toward　Raj　Ahten。　〃May　the　Powers　be　with　you！〃　The　captain　clapped　Orden　on　the　back。
　〃You　and　I　and　Sylvarresta　shall　be　hunting　in　the　Dunnwood　by　nightfall；〃　Orden　said。　〃Have　no　fear。〃
　Orden　blew　a　deep；　bass　hunting　horn　in　signal。　Immediately　his　men　at　the　gates　let　the　drawbridge　drop。　His　energies　swelled　as　all　through　the　castle　the　men　in　his　serpent　ring　held　perfectly　still。
　Suddenly　the　air　seemed　to　thicken　to　the　consistency　of　syrup。　Orden　had　the　strength　of　twelve　men；　but　with　the　metabolism　of　sixty；　it　required　considerable　effort　to　breathe。
　He　leapt　forward；　bearing　a　single　weapona　thin　half…sword；　sharp　enough　to　strike　off　Raj　Ahten's　head。　He　planned　to　take　Gaborn's　warning　to　heart；　decapitate　the　Wolf　Lord。　And　he　carried　his　shield。
　He　began　running；　leaping　down　the　stairs　from　the　castle　wall；　surprised　at　the　initial　push　it　took　to　bat　inertia。　Running　required　constant；　steady　pressure。　As　he　spun　round　a　corner；　his　momentum　was　such　that　he　accidentally　veered　from　his　course。
　He　raced　down　to　the　gate；　and　already　his　men　had　begun　raising　the　drawbridge；　as　he　had　ordered。　He　bounded　up　the　slight　incline；　gingerly　leapt　forty　feet　to　clear　the　moat；　running　as　he　landed；　and　hurried　after　Raj　Ahten。
　The　resistance　of　the　wind　against　his　shield　felt　tremendous。　After　a　few　yards　he　dropped　it；　hurried　through　the　charred　streets　of　the　city；　then　veered　onto　a　footpath　that　led　over　the　downs。
　The　grass　seemed　marvelously　green　this　morning；　having　been　cleansed　by　last　night's　rains；　and　everywhere　the　little　white　winterstar　flowers　lay　among　the　fields。
　Orden　raced　over　the　downs；　found　that　like　Raj　Ahten；　when　he　reached　the　top　of　a　mound；　he　was　traveling　so　fast　that　he　became　airborne。
　Orden　had　read　of　men　who　had　taken　great　endowments　of　metabolism。　He　knew　that　going　airborne　was　of　little　danger；　so　long　as　when　he　landed　he　made　certain　that　he　sped　a　little；　kept　his　feet　moving　to　absorb　the　impact　of　his　fall。
　He　turned　a　corner。　Learning　to　lean　into　a　turn；　he　knew；　was　perhaps　the　most　difficult　aspect　of　running　with　high　metabolism。
　Many　people　found　it　difficult　to　adopt　the　easy　rolling　gait　necessary　to　run。　They　wanted　to　move　fast　by　pressing　hard　with　their　feet；　as　a　normal　man　would　when　seeking　a　quick　start；　but　those　who　tried　it　would　snap　their　legs。　The　resting　body　had　too　much　inertia　to　overe。
　Orden　understood　this　principle　well。
　But　remembering　to　lean　into　curves　at　the　proper　angle；　that　just　felt　unnatural。　As　Orden　gained　speed；　he　found　he'd　be　running；　trying　to　make　a　turn　in　the　trail；　and　it　seemed　that　strange　forces　grasped　him。　Gravity　did　not　pull　down　so　much　as　momentum　kept　him　running　in　whatever　direction　he'd　taken；　and　as　he　hit　a　muddy　spot　on　one　turn；　only　a　great　deal　of　dancing　let　him　stay　afoot　and　keep　from　smashing　into　a　tree　beside　the　trail。
　Now　he　saw　that　Raj　Ahten　had　kept　his　running　speed　down　to　a　hundred　miles　per　hour　for　good　reason。　It　didn't　feel　safe　to　run　faster。
　Yet　Orden　sped　up；　for　his　life　and　the　lives　of　all　his　people　depended　on　it。　He　raced　higher　up　Tor　Loman；　through　the　white…trunked　aspens；　under　their　golden　leaves。
　As　he　climbed　one　hill；　looked　down　into　the　sun…dappled　glen　below；　he　saw　a　huge　hart；　its　antlers　wider　than　a　man's　arm　span。　Startled；　it　leapt　gracefully　in　the　air；　seemingly　to　hang　just　a　few　feet　above　the　ground。
　I　could　run　that　deer　down　in　a　heartbeat；　Orden　realized；　as　he　raced　toward　it；　passing　a　span　behind　as　it　dropped　toward　a　creek。
　Orden　climbed　toward　the　pines；　running　up　a　rocky；　narrow　crag。　Ahead；　he　saw　the　glint　of　dark　metal　as　Raj　Ahten　entered　the　woods。
　The　sound　of　the　steel　rings　in　mail　warned　Raj　Ahten　of　a　pursuer。　He　glanced　back。　Orden　rushed　up　the　trail。
　Raj　Ahten　could　not　imagine　someone　running　fast　enough　to　catch　him。　He　redoubled　his　speed。　The　trail　now　led　straight　between　the　dark　pines。　A　shaft　of　sunlight　shone　at　the　trail's　end。　Beyond　it　stood　the　red　sandstone　of　the　Eyes　of　Tor　Loman。
　Raj　Ahten　knew　that　fleeing　was　useless。　Orden　was　gaining　on　him；　and　had　the　greater　speed。
　〃I　have　you！〃　Orden　shouted　in　triumph；　a　hundred　yards　behind。
　Raj　Ahten　decided　to　use　Orden's　speed　against　him。　He　crested　a　small　rise；　leapt。　He　felt　a　sharp　pain　in　his　right　leg；　for　his　fibula　snapped　on　takeoff。
　He　knew　he　could　heal　in　seconds。
　As　Raj　Ahten　rose；　he　twisted；　drew　the　hatchet　from　his　belt；　and　hurled　just　where　Orden　should　be。
　To　his　surprise；　Orden　had　begun　to　stutter…step；　slowing。　The　hatchet　should　have　cleaved　him　at　something　close　to　two　hundred　miles　per　hour；　but　the　aim　was　high。
　Deftly；　Orden　dodged　under　the　projectile。
　Raj　Ahten's　trajectory　carried　him　high。　Though　the　break　in　his　leg　seemed　minor；　it　did　not　have　time　to　do　more　than　begin　healing　before　he　hit　ground。
　His　tibia　snapped；　along　with　the　first　break；　and　he　tried　to　let　himself　roll　forward；　take　the　weight　from　his　fall　on　his　good　leg　and　shoulders。
　As　Raj　Ahten　came　up；　Orden　fell　on　him；　hacking　viciously　with　his　short　sword。　With　Orden　having　so　many　endowments　of　metabolism；　Raj　Ahten　could　not　prepare　for　the　assault。
　Raj　Ahten　leaned　back　from　the　attack。　Orden's　first　swing　hit　him　full　in　the　throat。　Crimson　droplets　sprayed　from　Raj　Ahten's　neck；　and　he　felt　the　chink　of　metal　as　the　blade　struck　bone。
　King　Orden　exulted　as　he　saw　the　horrible　wound；　watched　flesh　peel　from　Raj　Ahten's　throat；　saw　the　Wolf　Lord's　handsome　eyes　widen　in　terror。
　Yet　the　blade　had　hardly　cleared　Raj　Ahten's　flesh　when　the　wound　began　to　close　over；　seamlessly。　The　man　had　so　many　endowments　of　stamina；　he　seemed　no　longer　human。
　The　Sum　of　All　Men；　Orden　feared；　that　creature　which　drew　life　from　so　many　people　that　it　could　no　longer　be　classified　as　mortal；　could　no　longer　die。　Raj　Ahten　was　being　a　Power；　one　to　vie　the　elements　or　the　Time　Lords。
　The　chronicles　spoke　of　it。　The　chronicles　said　Daylan　Hammer　had　lived　in　Mystarria　for　a　time；　sixteen　centuries　past；　before　he　went　south；　seeking　to　suffer　in　silence。　For　immortality　had　bee　a　burden。　Daylan's　Dedicates　passed　away；　yet　he　could　not　die；　for　in　some　fashion　he　had　been　transformed。　The　gifts　transmitted　through　the　forcibles　remained　with　him　eternallyunwanted；　a　curse。
　Orden　had　perfect　recall；　and　he　saw　the　words　now　before　him；　as　he'd　read　them　while　young；　studying　the　fragment　of　an　ancient　chronicle　written　by　a　distant　forefather：
　〃Having　loved　his　fellow　men　too　deeply；　Daylan　found　that　life　became　a　burden。　For　men　he　befriended；　women　he　loved；　blossomed　and　died　like　the　roses　of　a　single　season；　while　he　alone　remained　perennial。　So　he　sought　solitude　bey