df.therunelords-第21部分

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　Apes？　Gaborn　wondered。　He'd　seen　such　creatures　brought　north　as　curiosities。　Raj　Ahten　had　Frowth　giants　and　flameweavers　in　his　retinue；　along　with　Invincibles　and　war　dogs。　Gaborn　thought　it　might　be　possible　to　grant　endowments　to　apes；　turn　them　into　warriors。
　But　instinctively　Gaborn　knew　that　these　creatures　were　nothing　he'd　ever　seen。　Larger　than　apes。　Nomen；　perhapscreatures　recalled　only　in　ancient　tales。　Or　maybe　some　new　horror　in　the　earth。　Thousands　of　them　issued　from　the　woods；　a　dark　tide　of　bodies。
　Frowth　giants　waded　among　them；　and　Raj　Ahten's　Invincibles　rode　behind　in　armor　that　flashed　in　the　starlight。
　Far　below　to　the　west；　war　dogs　howled　and　snarled；　following　Gaborn's　blood　scent。　Gaborn　glimpsed　a　dog　on　the　trail　in　the　starlighta　huge　mastiff　with　an　iron　collar　and　a　leather　mask　to　protect　its　face　and　eyes。　The　pack　leader。　It　would　be　branded　with　runes　of　power；　to　let　it　run　faster　and　farther　than　its　brothers；　smell　Gaborn　more　easily；　and　plot　with　the　supernatural　cunning　of　its　kind。
　Gaborn　couldn't　escape　the　pack；　not　with　that　dog　alive。
　He　nocked　an　arrow；　the　last　in　his　quiver。　The　grizzled　mastiff　raced　up　the　path　at　incredible　speed；　its　back　and　head　showing　from　time　to　time　as　it　leapt　through　low　ferns。　With　endowments　of　strength　and　metabolism；　such　dogs　could　cover　miles　in　minutes。
　Gaborn　watched　its　progress；　gauged　where　it　would　exit　the　ferns　below　him。　The　mastiff　burst　from　the　ferns　a　hundred　yards　down；　snarling　in　rage；　its　mask　making　it　look　skeletal　in　the　starlight。
　The　beast　was　only　fifty　yards　away　when　Gaborn　loosed　his　arrow。　It　flew　to　its　mark；　striking　the　dog's　leather　mask；　then　ricocheted　over　its　head。
　The　mastiff　raced　forward。
　Gaborn　didn't　have　time　to　clear　his　saber　from　its　scabbard。
　The　mastiff　leapt。　Gaborn　saw　its　jaws　gaping；　the　huge　nick　in　its　forehead　where　the　arrow　had　pierced　the　leather；　scraped　away　flesh。
　Gaborn　threw　himself　back　in　the　saddle。　The　mastiff　jumped　and　brushed　past　Gaborn's　chest；　the　spikes　on　its　collar　slashing　Gaborn's　robe；　drawing　blood　on　his　chest。
　The　stallion　whinnied　in　terror　and　leapt　over　the　crest　of　the　hill；　raced　through　the　pines　as　Gaborn　struggled　to　dodge　low　branches　and　remain　a　horse。
　Then　his　steed　was　racing　down　a　steep；　rocky　hill。　Gaborn　managed　to　draw　his　sword　clear；　though　his　bow　had　been　swept　away　in　the　branches。
　I　don't　need　it；　Gaborn　tried　to　reassure　himself。　I'm　ahead　of　Raj　Ahten's　army　now。　I　only　need　to　race　him。
　He　put　heels　to　horse　flesh；　let　the　beast　run　its　heart　out；　and　raised　his　sword　flashing　in　the　night。
　Here　in　the　mountains；　the　trees　had　begun　to　thin；　so　that　for　the　first　time　in　hours　he　could　test　this　horse's　speed。
　It　leapt　an　outcropping　of　rocks；　and　Gaborn　heard　a　snarl　at　his　left　elbow。
　The　mastiff　had　caught　up　with　him　again；　was　running　under　the　horse's　hoofs。
　〃Clear！〃　Gaborn　shouted。　His　steed　leapt　and　kickeda　maneuver　all　his　father's　hunting　horses　were　taught。　It　was　meant　to　clear　wolves　or　charging　boars　from　beneath　the　horse's　hooves。
　Now　the　war　dog　took　an　iron　shoe　full　in　the　muzzle；　yelped　as　its　neck　snapped。
　But　on　the　ridge　above　him；　Gaborn　heard　yammers　and　growls　of　another　dozen　dogs。　He　looked　up。　Riders　in　dark　mantles　thundered　behind　the　dogs；　and　one　man　raised　a　horn　to　his　lips　and　blew；　calling　his　fellows　to　the　hunt。
　Too　close；　I'm　too　close　to　the　army；　he　realized。
　But　Raj　Ahten　was　only　skirting　the　edge　of　the　Dunnwood；　afraid　to　get　too　far　under　the　older　trees。　For　good　reason。
　Last　fall；　when　Gaborn　had　hunted　here　with　his　father　and　King　Sylvarresta；　a　hundred　men　had　ringed　themselves　with　campfires；　feasting　on　roasted　chestnuts；　fresh　venison；　mushrooms；　and　mulled　wine。
　Sir　Borenson　and　Captain　Derrow　had　practiced　their　swordplay；　each　man　mesmerizing　the　crowd　with　his　tactics。　Borenson　was　a　master　of　the　Dancing　Arms　style　of　battle；　could　swing　a　sword　or　axe　in　dizzying　patterns　so　quickly　that　one　seldom　saw　when　he　would　deal　his　deadly　blow。　Captain　Derrow　was　a　more　thoughtful　fighter；　who　could　choose　his　moment；　then　lunge　in　with　a　spear　and　slash　a　man　into　morsels　with　fascinating　precision。
　Gabon's　father　and　King　Sylvarresta　had　been　playing　chess　on　the　ground；　beside　a　lamp；　ignoring　the　mock　bats；　when　a　moaning　floated　through　the　trees；　a　sound　so　distinctly　odd　and　eerie　that　goose　pimples　rose；　cold　as　ice；　on　Gaborn's　back。
　Borenson；　Derrow；　and　a　hundred　retainers　had　all　stopped　instantly　at　that　sound；　and　someone　called；　〃Hold！　Hold！　No　one　move！〃　for　everyone　knew　it　was　deadly　dangerous　to　attract　a　wight's　attention。
　Gaborn　recalled　clearly　how　Borenson　had　smiled；　his　teeth　flashing　in　that　deadly　way　of　his；　as　he　stood　sweating；　looking　up　the　hillside　of　the　narrow　gully　outside　camp。
　A　pale　figure　rode　there；　a　lone　man　on　a　horse；　moaning　like　some　strange　wind　that　whipped　through　lonely　crags。　A　gray　light　shone　from　him。
　Gaborn　only　glimpsed　the　wight；　yet　his　heart　had　pounded　in　terror　at　the　sight。　His　mouth　went　dry；　and　he　could　not　catch　his　breath。
　He'd　looked　over　at　his　father　to　see　his　reaction。　Both　his　father　and　King　Sylvarresta　remained　playing　at　their　board；　neither　bothering　to　glance　up　toward　the　wight。
　Yet　Gaborn's　father　moved　his　wizard　on　the　board；　taking　a　pawn；　then　caught　Gaborn's　eye。　Gaborn's　face　must　have　been　pale　as　death；　for　his　father　smiled　wryly　and　said；　〃Gaborn；　calm　yourself。　No　prince　of　Mystarria　need　fear　the　wights　of　the　Dunnwood。　We　are　permitted　here。〃
　King　Sylvarresta　had　laughed　mirthlessly　and　turned　to　give　Gaborn　a　sly；　secretive　look；　as　if　the　men　shared　a　private　joke。
　Yet　Gaborn　had　felt　it　was　true；　felt　he　was　somehow　protected　from　the　wights。　It　was　said　that　in　days　of　old；　the　King　of　Heredon　had　manded　this　forest；　and　all　the　creatures　in　the　wood　had　obeyed　him。　The　kings　of　Heredon　had　fallen　in　stature。　Still；　Gaborn　wondered　if　Sylvarresta　really　did　mand　the　wights　of　Dunnwood。
　Now；　as　the　war　dogs　and　the　hunters　trailed　him；　Gaborn　gambled　that　it　was　true。　He　spurred　his　horse　west；　deeper　into　the　forest；　shouting；　〃Spirits　of　the　wood；　I　am　Gaborn　Val　Orden；　Prince　of　Mystarria。　I　beg　you；　protect　me！〃
　Even　as　he　called　for　aid；　he　knew　it　would　do　no　good。　The　spirits　of　the　dead　care　nothing　for　the　concerns　of　mortal　men。　If　Gaborn　attracted　their　attention；　they'd　only　seek　to　make　sure　he　joined　them　in　the　afterlife。
　His　horse　thundered　down　a　long　ridge；　under　the　boughs　of　some　huge　oaks　and　into　a　swamp；　where　it　had　to　swim　through　brackish　water　to　reach　the　brush　on　the　far　bank。
　Gaborn　heard　no　haunting　moans　as　his　horse　climbed　the　far　shore；　only　the　grunts　and　squeals　of　hundreds　of　huge　pigs　that　raced　from　him　as　if　they　were　hunted。　He'd　inadvertently　wandered　into　a　sounder　of　wild　boar。　One　of　the　great　black　shaggy　beasts；　as　tall　as　his　horse；　stood　its　ground　for　a　moment；　ivory　tusks　curling　out　like　sabers；　and　Gaborn　thought　it　would　skewer　his　mount。　At　the　last　second　the　boar　turned　and　rushed　away　with　the　herd。
　Gaborn　took　the　opportunity　to　ride　his　horse　under　the　oaks　in　a　few　quick　circles；　then　drove　his　mount　harder　than　everjumped　a　screen　of　rushes　over　a　steep　embankment　and　landed　sixty　feet　out　into　the　deep　water　before　swimming　to　the　far　shore。
　Just　past　noon　the　next　day；　Gaborn　raced　out　of　the　Dunnwood。　Bedraggled　and　smeared　with　blood；　he　shouted　to　the　guards　at　the　city　gates　a　warning　of　the　impending　attack。　Upon　showing　the　guards　his　signet　ring；　which　identified　him　as　the　Prince　of　Mystarria；　he　was　immediately　escorted　to　King　Sylvarresta。
　The　King　met　Gaborn　in　the　Great　Hall；　where　he　was　already　closeted　with　all　his　counselors。　Gaborn　rushed　forward　to　grasp　hands；　but　the　King　stopped　him　with　a　look。　Though　Gaborn　had　met　him　before；　Sylvarresta　seemed　distant。
　〃Milord；〃　Gaborn　said；　bowing　only　slightly；　as　befitting　his　rank。　〃I've　e　to　warn　you　of　an　attack。　Raj　Ahten's　armies　are　southin　the　Dunnwood；　ing　fast。　They　should　arrive　by　nightfall。〃
　A　look　of　concern　and　uncertainty　flas